[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [cm / hm / y] [3 / adv / an / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / x] [rs] [status / ? / @] [Settings] [Home]
Board:  
Settings   Home
4chan
/qst/ - Quests


File: SWI - EP. 3 Title Image.png (1.7 MB, 1500x750)
1.7 MB
1.7 MB PNG
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away...

STAR WARS
INTERREGNUM

EPISODE III

>>RECAP of the last thread:

The Exodus from Kakarit. The duel between Jedi Farren Gaelle and the Herald of Jombaral in the Womb of the world comes to a climactic ending. But his triumph is short-lived; a fleet comprised of twenty-eight Star Destroyer-class ships warps into the system, led by Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, to carry out the Base Delta Zero on Kakarit.

In a ploy of desperation to buy the refugees time to escape, Grand Shamanka Boslzoh and the Communion of Spirits turn the gaze of the Godseye skyward. However, treachery and tragedy befall the evacuation effort. In a fit of madness and misplaced pride, Warrior-King Trax kills Bos and takes the Communion hostage, demanding Farren raise the shield in an effort to preserve the planet from its destruction. But the Jedi is not deterred, blasting the hostages and the king’s men out of the way before slaying the traitorous regent in a pitched duel.

Yet all hope is not lost. The spirit of the Grand Shamanka lingered, offering words of comfort for the Communion and instructions to carry out her legacy. To Farren, she imparts shards of the Godseye, and a warning about the Sith Lords at the head of the Empire. With these final gifts given, Farren and the Communion depart from Kakarit aboard the Albatross, escaping the system and the wrath of the Empire with seven hundred Kakari refugees.

Upon his return to Mylar-3/Amagi, Farren is greeted by Master Larid. For his deeds and passing the Trial of Spirit, Larid bestows upon him the rank of Jedi Knight. From there, the pair exchange stories, and Larid divulges the identities of the Sith Lords. Much to Farren’s shock and horror, Darth Sidioius and Darth Vader are none other than the Supreme Chancellor Palpatine and Anakin Skywalker, the latter a friend from early years in the Order.

Master Larid departs from Amagi, pursuing a cadre of missing Younglings who've accidentally smuggled themselves into a warzone at the edge of the system. In his absence, Farren constructs a new pair of lightsabers, using the gift from Bos as the core for his new weapons. The following day, he sought Arotta Bashur, his erstwhile lover and rival, as she was being treated for injuries sustained by Jombaral. In a quiet ward room, they discussed their relationship, their conflicting emotions, and came to an understanding…

==================

Previous Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/4489818/
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Star%20Wars%20Interregnum
Character Pastebin (WIP): https://pastebin.com/u/TaskForceKaz
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TaskForceKaz

===================
>>
LETS FUCKING GO
>>
=======

>>Farren Gaelle
>Brawn: 2
>Finesse: 3
>Intellect: 2
>Cunning: 2
>Resolve: 3
>Panache: 2

>>Skills:
>Astronavigation 1 (Intellect) – knowledge about the galaxy’s stellar composition, allowing for the correct plotting of routes and hyperspace jumps.
>Cool 1 (Panache) – a character’s ability to remain calm under danger. Rolled to resist Charm and Negotiation.
>Coordination 1 (Finesse) – a measure of a character’s nimbleness and flexibility.
>Deception 1 (Cunning) – judges the character’s ability to trick others into believing falsehoods.
>Force Entities 1 (Intellect) – how much a character knows of entities strong in the Force.
>Lore 2 (Intellect) – how much the character knows of the ancient galaxy and its history.
>Mechanics 1 (Intellect) – skill in working on all things from weapons to droids and ships.
>Melee 2 (Brawn) – proficiency with melee weapons such as knives and swords.
>Medicine 1 (Intellect) - used to treat wounds as minor as scrapes to life-threatening injuries.
>Perception 2 (Cunning) – used to notice clues, perceive hidden dangers, and all manner of hidden objects or persons.
>Piloting [Space] 1 (Agility) – the ability to pilot starships and other stellar vessels.
>Sith 1 (Intellect) – knowledge regarding the Sith and Dark Side of the Force.
>Stealth 1 (Agility) – a measure of how easily a character can hide or appear inconspicuous.
>Vigilance 2 (Resolve) – represents a character’s ability to take notice and react to events happening in their surroundings/peripheral vision.

>>Traits:
>Jedi Shadow [Add +2 to checks made for Deception, Perception, Stealth and Vigilance]
>Makashi Expert [Roll 3d6 when using Form II/Makashi]
>Indistinguishable [You are but a face in the crowd, and add 1d6 to Stealth rolls]

>>Lightsaber Rating: 3
>>Weapons: “Makashi/Duelist” lightsaber, curved hilt with gold-yellow blade; “Niman/Dual-wielding” lightsaber, straight hilt with gold-yellow blade.
>>Lightsaber Forms:
>Form II, Makashi [Finesse]
>Form VI, Niman [Finesse+Cunning]

>>Force Rating: 2 (2d10+Resolve)
>>Force Affinity: Alter (+5 bonus to Alter-type powers)

>>Force Powers:
>Force Fire 2 (Alter) – a pyrokinetic ability that allows the practitioner to manipulate and conjure flames with the Force.
>Force Pull/Push 1 (Alter) – The iconic telekinesis of every Jedi, determines lifting limit and push power.
>Force Speed 1 (Alter) – The universe seems to slow around you, and you are react faster as a result of it.
>Force Weapon 3 (Alter) – You imbue a mundane weapon with the Force, increasing its durability and damage. At third rank, your lightsabers now do more damage. At fifth rank...?
>Mystic Weapon 1 (Alter). You can imbue a lightsaber with the Force and make it fight remotely at your side. At third rank, you may add an additional lightsaber.
>Sever Force 2 (Alter) – A rare technique that severs one’s connection with the Force. Leveling this increases duration and potency.

=======
>>
File: Farren's Weapons.png (474 KB, 600x945)
474 KB
474 KB PNG
===Weapons===

>>Farren Gaelle’s Lightsabers – a pair of lightsabers constructed after Farren Gaelle’s elevation to a Jedi Knight.

>Lightsaber Stats:
>Skill: Lightsaber
>Range: Engaged

- Makashi/Dueling ‘saber
-- Curved Hilt (1) - Preferred by duelists and Makashi/Form II wielders, adds a +4 to lightsaber checks when using Makashi/Form II in combat against a single foe.
-- Dual-Phase Mod (2) - Allows you to change the length of your blade once per encounter, catching your opponent off-guard to ignore melee defense for one attack.
-- Kakerox Crystals (2) - A shard of the Godseye given to you by Grand Shamanka Bos. You may make a Resolve Check to draw upon the power within the crystal, adding +5 to the next Force Power check. This can be done twice per the wielder's Force Rating before the crystal needs to be recharged via exposure to a solar body for a full 24 hours. The blade created is dense and vibrant, intensifying in plain view of a star or sun.
-- Shadowsheathe (1) - A specialized sheathe or holster made to conceal weaponry using optical camouflage. Doubles the DC made to find the affected weapon on your person.

- Niman/Dual-wielding ‘saber
-- Dual-Phase (2) - Allows you to change the length of your blade once per encounter, catching your opponent off-guard to ignore melee defense for one attack.
-- Stabilizing Coils (1) - When using this lightsaber, negate the first Critical Failure that occurs naturally for that encounter/situation.
-- Kakerox Crystals (2) - A shard of the Godseye given to you by Grand Shamanka Bos. You may make a Resolve Check to draw upon the power within the crystal, adding +5 to the next Force Power check. This can be done twice per the wielder's Force Rating before the crystal needs to be recharged via exposure to a solar body for a full 24 hours. The blade created is dense and vibrant, intensifying in plain view of a star or sun.
-- Shadowsheathe (1) - A specialized sheathe or holster made to conceal weaponry using optical camouflage. Doubles the DC made to find the affected weapon on your person.

>>Nomi’s Mandalorian Blaster – a Mandalorian pistol given to you by Nomiana Whrul after an evening of dancing on Mylar-3 prior to the Slave Revolution. She gave it to you in the hopes that it would keep you alive in the Unknown Regions.
>Pistol Stats:
- Skill: Ranged (Light)
- Range: (Medium)
- Hardpoints (3/3):
-- Blaster Actuating Module - Increases power/penetration of blaster bolts at the cost of increased maintenance.
-- Hair Trigger - Allows the weapon to be fired twice in a single action at the cost of decreased accuracy.
-- Multi-Optic Sight - Reduces any penalties due to smoke, darkness and other vision-affecting environmental effects.
>>
File: The Albatross.png (293 KB, 655x369)
293 KB
293 KB PNG
==INVENTORY==

>Farren’s Padawan Lightsaber – the last of a pair of lightsabers you constructed as a Padawan. It bears no special modifications, but has carried you through thick and thin for the better part of almost fifteen years. Among noteworthy opponents of this lightsaber include the Accuser of Pilgrims, the Herald of Jombaral, and the Mad Warrior-King Trax.
>Golden Lightsaber Crystal – one of two lightsaber crystals you had taken from the caves of Illum when you were a youngling. The lightsaber it had been embedded in had been destroyed by the Herald of Jombaral.
>Holocron of the Betrayer – a Jedi Holocron containing the persona of Kreia, an enigmatic Jedi Master from the time of Revan and the Old Republic.
>Liar’s Blade – the spearhead carried into battle by the Liar Chieftain against the Herald of Jombaral thousands of years ago. Used to slay the Herald and free the souls it had absorbed into itself. Seemingly anathematic to Force-users, you watched it burn Grand Shamanka Bos from within herself.

==ALLEANA'S LEADS==
>Arkinnea, a planet in the Expanse Region, where refugees of both Separatist and Republic bent flee.
>Bracca, a planet in the Mid Rim, where the only fortune to be made is from shipbreaking and scrapping.
>Dagobah, a planet in the Outer Rim, a desolate swamp void of any significant or advanced civilization.
>U’haon, a planet in the Tingel Arm, suspected to be the planet you saw in the Revenant’s vision.
>Uliea, a planet in the Outer Rim, alleged homeworld of Alleana and Farren Gaelle, largely unknown by the galaxy.

==============

=The Albatross=

>>Class: Lonrar E-9 Explorer

>Silhouette – [4]
>Speed – [4]
>Handling – [-1]
>Hull: [25/25]
>System: [14/14]

>Shield (Fore) – [1]
> Shield (Port) – N/A
>Shield (Starboard) – N/A
>Shield (Aft) – [1]
>Armor – [4]

>Cargo Capacity: 60 Metric Tons

>>Customization Hardpoints [2/4]:
>Electronic Countermeasures – doubles the DC for enemy shits to hit you.
>Security Measures – doubles the DC for Computers/Skullduggery checks made for unauthorized access.

>>Misc.
>Engineering Access – sub-deck access passages grant easy access to nearly any internal engineering system in the ship, allowing for quick response to problems. Lowers the DC made for Mechanics or Computer checks thanks to ease of reaching systems typically hidden behind bulkheads or sealed beneath deck plating.
>Namesake Bonus – increases engines/sublight speed by 1.

>>Weapons:
>>1x Dorsal & 1x Ventral Turret- mounted Medium Laser Cannon(s).
>Fire Arc: ALL; Damage 6; Critical 3; Range [Close], Linked 1

>>Crew & Compliment:
> 1 Pilot, 1 Co-Pilot, 1 Engineer, 1 Quartermaster.
>4 Passengers.

===============
>>
Prelude:

The 15th of Month 8 in 19 BBY came as any other day in the galaxy might have. Almost two months after the end of the Clone Wars, the newly-christened Galactic Empire had begun to consolidate its grip upon the Core Worlds. For the most part, the populace of the former Republic had accepted any and all changes in policies both domestic and foreign without much in the way of resistance.

Certainly, there were elements that embraced the change. COMPNOR (Commission for the Preservation of a New Order) had been salvaged into a radically pro-Empire organization, promoting both its virtues as well as its might against detractors of the new regime. Humanocentrist factions, emboldened by their victory over the Separatists, were all but drunk on the sudden influence and power they’d come to wield.

This political windfall, however, had come with a cost, and it was the nonhuman population within the Empire that had to pay. At the University of Coruscant, nonhumans were barred from applying, and a full third of the student body had been subsequently expelled. Youth brigades and bands of pro-Empire activists roamed the streets, harassing and intimidating any nonhumans they could find. Petitions to the Imperial Senate went unheard. Several dozens of Senators (human or otherwise) had suddenly been found to be harbor sympathy for the Separatist cause, and been forced to retire or outright disappear into the ether.

Outwards of the Core, however, pockets of resistance continued to wage a noble, if not helpless and ultimately doomed series of campaigns. The Wookiees, formerly staunch allies of the Republic, fight a bloody insurrection against the Clones they once fought alongside. New Plympto saw a Separatist Remnant engaging in guerilla warfare, led by the Jedi General who once warred against them. And in the Ciutric Sector, a coalition of Muun refugees, Thalassian slavers and pirate forces disrupted trade and supply lines between the Mid and Outer Rim.

These examples are only among a handful of seditious and rebellious movements observed in the month after the formation of the New Order, among the conflict later to be referred to as the {Reconquest of the Rim}. But perhaps the most noteworthy observation is the emergence of Lord Vader, the Empire’s most powerful servant and Supreme Commander of the New Order. Few know of his true origins, but even more know of his deeds as the merciless, ruthless enforcer of Emperor Palpatine’s will.

But beyond the known galaxy, within the Unknown Regions, Tuesday the 15th marked the beginning of the end of the Mylar Slave Revolution. With the aid of Jedi Farren Gaelle and Torok Lamal, the slaves of Mylar-3 overthrew the shackles of their Tof masters and established their own military government. Though a young stratocracy, the Mylar Star Alliance seeks to not only pursue their own interests and self-determination, but be prepared for the day when the Tof Kingdoms return for a bloody vengeance.

(cont.)
>>
File: Arotta Bashur_04.jpg (69 KB, 470x810)
69 KB
69 KB JPG
In the last planet of the Mylus System, the subzero sphere known colloquially as “the Chiller”, the final campaign to purge the Tof remnant has begun. Supreme Archon Keimann has committed the bulk and best of his military forces upon the planet, whose water supplies are sorely needed by the Alliance. The Tof Remnant, led by General Dugrash the Jolly, have dug in and made the preparations for a fierce defense, intending to hold out until reinforcements can arrive to relieve them.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object as the pages of history continue to turn, penned in both ink and blood.

>>Amagi, Mylus System, Unknown Regions

“I don’t know what we have. Neither of us know what we are. But...we could still explore them together.”

“…you really mean that, don’t you?”

“I…I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”

“…I don’t know how to respond.”

“A ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ would be nice.”

“...dumbass…but, yes. Yes…yes! Force me, this is...”

“…I’m not expecting everything to change overnight. That wouldn’t be fair for either of us.”

“Is this what it means to ‘go steady’, then?”

“Probably not, but…that’ll work. Just…slow, for now. No point in getting the others worried…or startle the younglings.”

“Hah…! We wouldn’t want to set a bad example to the future of the Jedi.”

“…the future of the Jedi…”

“What’s wrong?”

“…nothing. It’s…fine. Just the...gravity of that statement is...”

“…Farren…?”

“…it’s getting late. I have to return to my ship. But…I’ll come visit you again. I promise.”

“…sure, sure. Just…take care of yourself, alright? And don’t make me hunt you down…again.”

“I won’t. Good night, Arotta…”


The holocron of Master Kreia lies innocuously on the table, emanating a soft, green light that illuminates the mess hall of the Albatross. It offers nothing beyond a source of light as you chase down the last of Master Larid’s Corellian whiskey. With a grimace, you set the glasses down and massage the sides of your temple. Alcohol had never been one of your vices, but you found yourself reaching for the bottle after your discussion with Arotta.

Not out of frustration or grief, nor in anger as some drunkards might. Speaking to Arotta without bandying words or rejoining japes is…difficult. The fortress the two of you had created has fallen; a mighty structure bristling with sharp barbs, stocked with acidic comments, enshrouded with dark humor and plagued by storms of intense rivalry…

It is gone, razed to the ground by the decision the two of you had come to make in that small hospital room. All that remains are the original builders atop the foundation, equally naked and vulnerable perhaps for the first time since their first meeting. A fresh start for both and what the desire to build, but no idea where to possibly start.

(cont.)
>>
File: Kreia_03.jpg (75 KB, 500x715)
75 KB
75 KB JPG
How does a Jedi go about pursuing a relationship, anyway? Or at the very least, a relationship that goes beyond camaraderie? There’s ample precedent of such things happening. In the time of the Old Republic, there had been Jedi dynasties. One needn’t look further than Revan and Bastilla Shan…

Revan and the Old Republic, you think quietly as you glance towards Kreia’s holocron.

You aren’t nearly about to activate the relic and simply ask the Jedi for relationship advice, like a teenager does to a parent. Although even though Masters Larid and Kosa know about your and Arotta’s relationship, you have doubts that either could offer anything constructive. Or if not constructive, at least helpful to advancing a purely carnal relationship into something more.

You exhale roughly. What a complicated mess. You’d set a time and date speak with Kreia. Between the events of Kakarit, the Exodus to Mylar, the revelation of the Sith Lords, there is much to speak to her about. It’s just bad luck that this latest…development with Arotta happened before you decided to speak with her.

But there isn’t any point in putting it off any longer. Even if you’re still on the bench of whether or not to share the events of the last few hours with her. Let alone anything else beyond a recounting of Kakarit.

The elderly Jedi emerges from her holocron in a soft burst of light. Master Kreia’s image settles into the familiar form of a hooded elder, arms at her side and a critical eye towards the supplicant. The sight of the Corellian whiskey does not escape her notice, and her nose crinkles in what might appear to be an amused disapproval.

“I’m not drunk,” you preemptively lead just before she can open her mouth. When her frown doesn’t go away, you sigh, elaborating, “…it’s just been a long day.”

She holds onto her silence for the span of a few breaths. When she deigns to speak, she breathes, “You have come with questions. I am more than willing to provide them, in spite of your…current unbalanced state. I may not be your official master, but it would be a mark against my pride as a teacher to leave you bereft of guidance when you clearly need it.”

In spite of yourself, you offer a wan smile. “I appreciate that, thank you.”

Kreia sniffs. “I would certainly hope that you not make this sort of entrance habitual.” Yet the Jedi pauses, peering at you through the tip of her cowl. “Let us then start from the beginning; the fact that you are speaking to me indicates that you have concluded your Trial of Spirit. You are now a Jedi Knight.”

It’s hard to not feel a surge of pride, even if you don’t visibly puff out your chest. “I am.”

“Indeed, you have grown stronger since we have last spoken,” she pointedly observes. Her lips curl into an enigmatic line, not quite a smile but not a frown either. “And the Force resonates more clearly within you than it had for our first meeting.”

(cont.)
>>
“I would hope that I’ve made some improvement,” you reply with a wry grin.

Kreia frowns. Returning a stern tone, she admonishes, “Pride and arrogance are dangerous traits to have, but indulging in false modesty is ill-fitting for someone with your accomplishments. True humility is not one thinking less of him or herself, but thinking less of one’s self. A lesson that many among the Jedi seem to have forgotten…”

Even as it audibly sours towards the end, unexpected platitude brings an unexpected blush to your cheeks. Rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, you answer, “Fair enough. But the thing is…there’s a lot of stuff that’s happened since we last spoke.”

That is the understatement of the century. But the Jedi merely folds her hands within her robes, intoning dryly, “Of that, I have no doubt. You carry yourself differently, but your stature is diminished by a weight upon your shoulders. Speak freely, then. Share with simulacra what troubles the current generation of Jedi.”

>>Concerning of what to share with Kreia, you decide to…
>Speak only of Kakarit and the Sith Lords. Kreia has knowledge of surviving a Jedi Purge, but your relationship with Arotta is none of her concern.
>Speak of everything: Kakarit, the Sith Lords, and your relationship with Arotta. She asked for you to share your troubles, thus you will give her everything.
>Custom option. (Write-in)

[VOTE OPEN FOR FIVE HOURS]

Thank you for your patience. We're back in business!
>>
>>4669344
>>Speak only of Kakarit and the Sith Lords. Kreia has knowledge of surviving a Jedi Purge, but your relationship with Arotta is none of her concern.
>>
>>4669344
>Speak only of Kakarit and the Sith Lords. Kreia has knowledge of surviving a Jedi Purge, but your relationship with Arotta is none of her concern.
Farren survived space 'nam, jedi relationship autism won' t kill him.
Right?
>>
>>4669323
>>4669326
>>4669328
>>4669331
>>4669335
>>4669338
>>4669341
>>4669344
>tfw nkt only is Kaz back, he's still using the images of your sabers
Welcome back Kaz! did you see the other cool SW quest currently suffering technical issues? If not you should check it out, it's a great draw-quest.


>Speak of everything: Kakarit, the Sith Lords, and your relationship with Arotta. She asked for you to share your troubles, thus you will give her everything.

Kreia's trust worthy. Well not necessarily trustworthy but solid enough that she won't go blabbing about anything. Plus she's an expert on the Sith, having been one herself
>>
>>4669344
>Speak of everything: Kakarit, the Sith Lords, and your relationship with Arotta. She asked for you to share your troubles, thus you will give her everything.
>>
File: EqL14FYW8AE-Wvo.jpg (192 KB, 1280x1811)
192 KB
192 KB JPG
>>4669344
>>Speak of everything: Kakarit, the Sith Lords, and your relationship with Arotta. She asked for you to share your troubles, thus you will give her everything.
>>
>>4669344
>Speak only of Kakarit and the Sith Lords. Kreia has knowledge of surviving a Jedi Purge, but your relationship with Arotta is none of her concern.
>>
>>4669341
>>4669344
>Speak of everything: Kakarit, the Sith Lords, and your relationship with Arotta. She asked for you to share your troubles, thus you will give her everything.
>>
>>4669344
>>Speak only of Kakarit and the Sith Lords. Kreia has knowledge of surviving a Jedi Purge, but your relationship with Arotta is none of her concern.
Hope we'll get to Kashyyyk at some point, absolute fuckton of Jedi there. Good to have you back, boss.
>>
>>4669465
Also, Kaz, you forgot to put down Ranged (Light) on our skill list here >>4669326
>>
>>4669344
>Speak of everything: Kakarit, the Sith Lords, and your relationship with Arotta. She asked for you to share your troubles, thus you will give her everything.
>>
Rolled 76 (1d100)

>>4669344
>>Speak only of Kakarit and the Sith Lords. Kreia has knowledge of surviving a Jedi Purge, but your relationship with Arotta is none of her concern

Love problem is reserved for the Outer Rim Loveline Podcast. A hundo makes this cannon.
>>
>>4669344
>Kakarit
>Sith Lords
>Babies being born in force-rich environments
>Adventurous younglings
>>
File: Separatist Core Ship.jpg (1.96 MB, 2001x2978)
1.96 MB
1.96 MB JPG
>>4669390
>>4669404
>>4669423
>>4669465
>>4669502
>>4669531

You exhale warily as you lean back into your seat. And with a half-joking tone, you inquire, “…I don’t suppose you’d mind me pouring myself one more glass? It’s gonna be a long story.”

She makes no remark or movement beyond a quirked eyebrow. Taking that as her sanction, if not her blessing, you pour yourself another glassful of Corellian whiskey. Swirling the drink and nosing the bouquet, you take a small sip. It goes down easily enough, and loosens your tongue as you prepare to lay down all the cards on the table.

Clearing your throat, you begin: “After I spoke with you, I ended up going to the Separatist encampment…”

Your recounting of the story passes not entirely unlike your time with Master Larid. But where your master was content to simply listen until you’d finished, Kreia occasionally interjects, offering her own commentary or request for clarification. She isn’t too obtrusive, but the questions she poses cause your skin to crawl more often than not.

“The Separatist commodore is only useful insofar as her collection of droids,” she observes tartly. “And the laser-ridden carcass of half a ship. When those currencies have been spent, what else does she have to offer beyond a solitary blaster? Her machines have deprived her of even a modicum of hardship that both you and the Kakari have endured, especially in the case of the latter.”

“Are you saying that it was wrong of me to save her and her husband?” you counter, utterly perplexed.

“You offered partnership when you might have obtained subordination.”

“Partnership in name only. She ended up obeying my orders more often than not.”

“Because while she is slothful, she isn’t a fool,” Kreia refutes. “Do you think that she did not fear what might happen to her husband if she failed to secure your aid or obey your orders? You would never bring any direct harm to either of them, as is the Jedi way. But beyond droids she clearly does not have the means to replace, you were the only definitive bulwark standing between the Mercantors and the Children of Jombaral."

Your fingers twitch for the entire bottle of whiskey as you stare agog at the simulacra. Shaking your head, you hiss, “I needed her ship to evacuate the Kakari! And without her droids, repairing the Globus in time before the Empire arrived would’ve been impossible!”

“It is not wrong to use or exploit a resource while in your possession. But Mercantor and others like her ilk rely far too much upon their droids, mindless automatons dead to the Force. It speaks ill of a general for their preferred troops to simply be unquestioning machines, to be spent and simply replaced as best they see fit.”

She pauses, considering. “And from what you told me of the clones, the late Republic seems to have been no better.”

“The clones have the ability to think and question orders,” you protest.

(cont.)
>>
File: Alleana Gaelle_00.jpg (1.28 MB, 1181x1748)
1.28 MB
1.28 MB JPG
“Yet how easy was it for the Herald of Jombaral to seize their will and turn their guns towards you?” She muses. “The Commander gave you his word that he would refuse to comply with the order. But he is no different from a droid if his baser instincts or ‘programming’ can so easily be seized and override what free will he claims to have.”

You have no immediate answer to that.

But Kreia isn’t nearly finished. She adds, “The clones are a valuable resource, I will readily agree to that. But you cannot deny that they are a security risk to you and the rest of the Jedi. Are you willing to risk another repeat of the Battle of Nest’s End, and possibly face the consequences of their continued companionship?”

In a way, it’s kind of messed up how the discussion is going. You came to Kreia to seek for aid and share your troubles. Instead, the elder Jedi seems content to screw with your head with questions of philosophy, and touch upon issues that you either hadn’t thought about, or otherwise buried in the back of your mind.

Still…there’s something oddly therapeutic about the exchange between the two of you.

Much like Master Larid, Kreia displays mild interest at the Accuser of Pilgrims, and the more esoteric practices of the Communion of Spirits. And in a similar vein, she is keenly interested with the discussion you had with Alleana, almost to a disturbing degree. Going so far as to lean forward as you recount the conversation and offer that your…mother had given you.

To your surprise, Kreia seems oddly satisfied with how you handled yourself. The gatekeeper takes a moment to compose her thoughts before saying, “You were wise to be wary. One can never be too careful when confronting echoes or apparitions of the Force.”

And she presses you no further, offering little more than a shallow nod of approval when you eschewed martial talent, skill proficiency or knowledge in the Force in lieu of three questions. The Exodus and the final battle with the Herald are done relatively quickly. But Kreia takes a moment to scorn the late Warrior-King Trax, with an audible sneer in her voice.

“Foolish king…” She shakes her head, and the whites of her eyes hold a visible contempt. “So blinded by pride, to have been brought the truth about what lies above his head, and to deny it so violently? The arrogance. The murder of Grand Shamanka Bos is an unforgivable crime that was only punishable by death and disgrace by his son.”

You try to suppress a shudder at the very not Jedi-like response. But you take a measure of pride in not squirming as Kreia turns her eyes towards you. “Compromised as you were by the death of the Shamanka, you were wise to not fall for his ploy. Or perhaps, strong or confident enough in your abilities. To rise above your Jedi training is no easy thing.”

…that isn’t quite what happened, but you aren’t about to argue or protest.

>>You have gained influence with Kreia.

(cont.)
>>
File: Anakin Skywalker.png (1.25 MB, 922x1400)
1.25 MB
1.25 MB PNG
And the discussion inevitably turns towards the Sith Lords.

This time, Kreia waits for you to finish your story. You have little to say about Emperor Palpatine, as you’d never met the man personally, even prior to the Clone Wars. He had seemed to be the genuine deal, a fresh politician from a planet in crisis, sick of the red tape and ineffectiveness of the Senate.

>>For actions taken in the first thread...

It is difficult to think of Anakin Skywalker as Darth Vader, but the footage you saw did not lie. Your guts churn as you describe your relationship with the former slave from Tatooine. You welcomed him into the Temple when the other Younglings kept their distance. And for a time, you were close for just a little over a year before Master Larid had taken you away from the temple as his padawan.

“Sometimes I feel that Obi-wan doesn’t care for me…”

But you had maintained a relationship as best you could. You exchanged letters, kept in semi-regular contact, in spite of the cloak-and-dagger lifestyle of a Jedi Shadow. You remember the gripes Anakin had with Ferus “Wonderboy” Olin, the grief he felt with Master Yaddle’s sacrifice, loosing an arm to Count Dooku…

“If it were up to me, you’d be a Knight! You’re more than ready, and older than me! Isn’t there something you can say to your master about taking the Trials?”

In hindsight, small talk wasn’t something either of you engaged with. Even going into the Clone Wars, the bulk of your exchanges were incredibly serious. And the frequency of your messages gradually decreased, as was natural in war. But there is…had been a friendship observed from what few times you’d been able to meet up.

“Hey, Farren? I know Master Skyguy isn’t the most…verbose Jedi, but he’s really glad to have you with us on the mission.”

“…he was a good friend,” you finish, shaking your head. “But all that’s left is Darth Vader, and whatever machinations the Emperor has planned for him.”

Kreia shifts, peering at you with an inscrutable gaze. “Are you saying this as a question for me to affirm?”

You shake your head, almost angry at the question. “No! No, I know what my duty is. That hasn’t changed.”

“But you are saddened by the betrayal of your friend?”

“…I just don’t understand,” you admit, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I get why Palpatine might bring him into the fold. But what was the catalyst that caused him to fall?”

Silence descends within the interior of the Albatross. The only source of noise is the occasional creak and groan of the hull, and the soft hum of the holocron that Kreia resides in…the Holocron of the Betrayer.

“…it is such a quiet thing to fall,” she eventually says, “Do you believe Skywalker to be the first Jedi to become a Sith without clear or obvious explanation? Would it make you feel better had you seen him roar and below his reason for betrayal?”

(cont.)
>>
Maybe… you think dryly, but otherwise remain silent as you sense the elder preparing for another pontification.
“What I know of Skywalker, I have learned from you. Thus, any conclusions I have regarding him are heavily biased. But I would impart with you this advice, building upon what your master had told you: dwelling on the ‘why’ or the ‘how’ does nothing. If you are that curious, ask Vader should you ever come across him.”

In spite of yourself, you chortle, even if it comes out like a strangled cough. “I would hope that meeting doesn’t happen for a long time.”

The corner of her mouth curls upwards. “A better response than what a certain youngling had said.”

Wait, what-?

“Regardless,” she says, either unknowingly or willfully oblivious to you any sort of explanation, “A confrontation may be inevitable, no, will be inevitable should you return to the known galaxy and make yourself too visible. Of course, with your unique career choice, that might only happen if you are reckless in your continued duties.

“But never forget,” she warns, adopting a grave tone, “That the Emperor is the real power behind your friend’s downfall. And that he has won the support of the ignorant masses and turned them against the Jedi. Much like the machinations of Darth Sidious, any sort of action to not only depose the Sith but win the heart of the galaxy must be undertaken with care so as not to alienate the other.”

You nod. That’s more than fair enough, even if you weren’t as reckless as some of the other Jedi you know. “I’ll keep that in mind. I haven’t forgotten about the Rule of Two.”

“The Rule of Two?” she inquires.

Ah, that’s right. Given how her holocron comes from the time of the Old Republic, it would make sense for her to be unfamiliar with that particular tenant of the Sith. That particular tidbit was one of the first things Master Larid taught you.

>Farren takes 8 on a Sith (Intellect) check, and is able to explain the Rule of Two to Kreia.

Once you finish, she nods in understanding. “That is interesting. A philosophy that ensures consistent struggle and growth, ensuring only the strongest emerges. All the while maintaining secrecy…truly an insidious plot.”

“You almost sound like you’re praising them,” you say, not quite accusing her.

“Is it praise if I merely observe that it was successful in not only staying hidden, but wiping out the Jedi?” she calmly replies.

That response causes you glare at her, and drink straight from the bottle without breaking eye contact.

She scoffs, and you can almost hear the way her eyes roll. “If you will allow me to impart one final reflection on this Skywalker before we shift topics…” At the gesture you make, a sort of half-hearted wave of your hand, she affixes you with a keen look, and intones gravely:

(cont.)
>>
“To rely on prophecy and portents, waiting for a superior being to come and alleviate you of your burdens and troubles, is slothful, but not in a manner like Mercantor. Waiting for the arrival of some sort of savior, messiah or Chosen One to alleviate you of the troubles of the age is apathy of the worst kind. It takes responsibility and duty for action out of those who can act, and thrusts it either upon others or the next generation.

“There is nothing more repugnant than doing nothing,” she hisses, in a voice full of venomous bile, “To simply stagnate and remain static while hoping for change either promised or foretold. Apathy is death, Farren Gaelle. Worse than death, because even a rotting carcass can feed the beasts and insects.”

Kreia pauses, staring at you once more. The bottle doesn’t slip from your hands, but you set it down as she looks at you with the intensity of a burning star. “Have a care that your own indecisiveness about your friend’s betrayal does not cause you to become paralyzed with despair. Pray that you find the resolution in your heart before Darth Vader finds you…”

If nothing else, you can safely say that finishing the discussion of the Sith causes the mood to take a turn, lightening up if not completely changing in tone or tenor. The subject of Octavia’s pregnancy is of mild interest, owing to the possibility of a child strong in the Force due to exposure on Kakarit. Such things hadn’t been uncommon in the Old Republic, apparently.

Of course, you’ll have to wait for the child’s arrival. Six months to decide how to proceed should the newest Mercantor be Force-sensitive.

But when the topic of Arotta hesitantly comes up, Kreia is mercifully blunt, or otherwise not keen on making far to big of a deal out of it. Perhaps her energy had been better spent on more caustic focuses, such as rebuking droids and clones, the apathetic and the Sith. Thus, she is comparatively placid as she dispenses her advice.

“If you are so certain that you wish to pursue a romantic relationship,” she says dryly, “Then who am I to stop you? Even as you’ve shown me your unorthodox beliefs and contradictions with the Jedi Code, you’ve also shown both resilience against temptation against the Dark Side. It is certainly an improvement beyond the more passionate and carnal affair you’d carried on before.”

You aren’t nearly drunk in spite of how much you’ve had. But the hue of red on your cheeks is mostly embarrassment.

“I am more concerned about her than with you,” muses Kreia. “Based on what you have told me of her 'colorful' personality. It boggles the mind as to how you might have come together in the first place. But it is no matter. I would be sorely disappointed if this liaison would be the cause for your downfall…”

(cont.)
>>
File: Jedi Holocron.jpg (80 KB, 1210x672)
80 KB
80 KB JPG
And with that, there is nothing else to talk about. Even as you prepare to turn off the holocron, you aren’t…satisfied? No, because you received answers, but were also given a slew of things to think about. Even as you thank her for her wisdom, she seems to pick up on your reservations.

“I am but a mirror whose only purpose is to show you what your eyes cannot yet see,” Kreia says enigmatically as she disappears back into the holocron. “Until you call me again, Farren Gaelle…”

It’s been two days since you returned from Kakarit. But as you settle into bed, even as the rest of the crew comes back for the evening, you aren’t nearly as well-rested as you’d like to be…

>>Kreia has given you two questions to think about.

>>Are you willing to risk the aid of the Clones in spite of what happened in Nest’s End? [Select one]
>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.
>Yes. But at the first sign of any trouble, you will cut them down yourself.
>No. Perhaps it’s time for you and the Clones to go your separate ways.
>No. The Clones are a risk, and must be dealt with, effective immediately.

>>How is it that you will find resolution in your heart should you fight Darth Vader? [Select one]
>Anger at your friend’s betrayal, and burning desire to see justice for the Jedi Order.
>Nothing. You are a Jedi, and you must rise above any sort of emotional response.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.

>>What will you do tomorrow? [Select two, unless taking a mutually exclusive option.]
>Ask around if anyone knew where Nomiana Whrul departed.
>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>Gather your crew and join the campaign/search on the Chiller. [MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE WITH OTHER OPTIONS]
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>Inquire about hiring additional crew for the Albatross.
>Custom option. (Write-in)


>>Please structure your answers as the following.
>Clone answer.
>Vader answer.
>Activity one.
>Activity two. (If not taking a mutually exclusive option)

[VOTE OPEN FOR SIX HOURS]
>>
>>4669816
>>Clone answer.
>No. The Clones are a risk, and must be dealt with, effective immediately.

>>Vader answer.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.

>>Activity one.
>Ask around if anyone knew where Nomiana Whrul departed.

>>Activity two.
>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>>
>>4669816
>Yes. But at the first sign of any trouble, you will cut them down yourself.
>Nothing. You are a Jedi, and you must rise above any sort of emotional response.
>Gather your crew and join the campaign/search on the Chiller. [MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE WITH OTHER OPTIONS]
>>
>>4669816
Clones
>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.
We might as well look into what happened to them when the black robed sith popped up, and if any other clones had the same type of experience when it happened. Helping a bunch of clones realizing they got duped into killing there comrades would be an effective way to deny the Empire of highly trained troops while adding to our own small army.

Darth Vader
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.

>Activity one.
>Ask around if anyone knew where Nomiana Whrul departed.

>Activity two.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>>
>>4669816
>Yes. But at the first sign of any trouble, you will cut them down yourself.

Clones are bros, but just, you know, be VERY careful around the O-word and 6th number.

I don't like ANY of those choices for the 2nd one so imma write-in
>Being sorrowful or wrathful won't do anything to change the situation, but not feeling anything isn't healthy. You will recognize your emotions as a natural reaction, but you will control them, not let them control you. When the opportunity comes you will unload your sorrow and anger on Vader.

>Activity
I'm torn between the chiller and searching a new home for the Kakari and storyteller... though if I had to choose I choose one I'd go with:
>Chiller
Those piece of shit slavers need to be eliminated so the Empire doesn't have ANY chance of getting a legit claim on literally the only friendly sector we have.
>>
>>4669816
>No. Perhaps it’s time for you and the Clones to go your separate ways.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.

>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.

We should take a breather. I think its fair we let others take charge after all we went through. Goodluck lost padawans
>>
>>4669816
>Clone answer.
>Yes. But at the first sign of any trouble, you will cut them down yourself.
>Vader answer.
>Resignation, ultimately he made his choice, and we have made ours. He has become a monster, and as such needs to be put down.
>Activity one.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>Activity two. (If not taking a mutually exclusive option)
Look into the matter of the Clones and the sith ordering them, to see what caused it and to ensure it will not happen again.
>>
>>4669843
>>4669825
Why y'all hating on the clones bro?
>>
>>4669845
>bro
>>
>>4669849
Yes, I used ironic language on a cambodian story telling board, fucking sue me, now tell me why you want the professionally trained military grade meat puppets gone when they could train the kakari/younglings and THEN be on their way?
>>
>>4669816
>No. Perhaps it’s time for you and the Clones to go your separate ways.
It really is for the best, they deserve to live their own lives.

>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.
RiP The homie

>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>>
>>4669853
I dont want risks in my plays. Unless we have Jedi tricks to counter the suggestion I'd very much not want to risk it. Though now that I think about it. Its they now know where our base of operations. Hmmmmmm
>>
>>4669816
>Yes. But at the first sign of any trouble, you will cut them down yourself.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.
>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>>
>>4669862
we could look into it easily with an action
>>
>>4669862
This >>4669877 . Cause the clones ought to know SOMETHING is up, and depending on what Kaz says, it could just be those tumor things. Rex had his removed, maybe we can remove everyone elses?
>>
>>4669862
We did pretty well with Force Sever.
>>
>>4669892
Eeeh, I don't think Force Sever would work on something like the Clone's tumors since they're not force related.
>>
>>4669816
>Clone answer
>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.

>Vader answer
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.

>Activity one
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.

>Activity two
>Inquire about hiring additional crew for the Albatross.
>>
>>4669816
>>Clone answer.
>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.
>>Vader answer.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.
>>Activity one.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>>Activity two.
>Ask around if anyone knew where Nomiana Whrul departed.
>>
>>4669816
>>Clone answer.
>>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.

>>Vader answer.
>>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.

>>Activity one.
>>Inquire about hiring additional crew for the Albatross.

>>Activity two.
>>Ask around if anyone knew where Nomiana Whrul departed.
>>
>>4669816
>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.
I'm sure it can be drilled out of them.

>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.
Anakin was a good kid, but we gotta do what we gotta do.

>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
We have a spear to return, goddammit.

Who is Nomiana Whrul?
>>
>>4669816
>>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.
>Gather your crew and join the campaign/search on the Chiller.
>>
>>4669927
>Who is Nomiana Whrul?

The Mando pilot we danced with at the Tipsy Toffer in the first thread.
>>
>>4669816
>>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.
>>>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.
>>Ask around if anyone knew where Nomiana Whrul departed.
>>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>>
>>4669816
>Yes. You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen.
That being said, DEFINITELY talk with both them and Larid about what happened, see if we can't look at them from a force sensitive and medical angle to figure out what made them so easily swayed. I mean, it should be obvious in-character that it wasn't just a force persuasion, right? They're pretty clearly not foolish or weak willed, and it seemed to overpower them resisting rather than just...push them in that direction.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side purged.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>>
>>4669829
>>4669954
If you want to look into it, you'll need to take an action guys.
>>
>>4669966
My suggestion was assuming that it would be used as a story mission that would constitute a stealthy infiltration mission that would run a few threads. We need more than just the clones in Scrapper Squad to do it, and that's going to take a lot of time trying to infiltrate the Imperial Navy and finding clones who had regular contact with Jedi commanders who they liked. Y'know, something long term, with story repercussions.
>>
>>4669984
We're in no shape to do that, and we'd need somewhere to start before we'd even do it. If you don't vote to at least interact with hem we'll do nothing of the sort. This isn't like skyrim where people drop issues at your feet for you to solve. Gotta do groundwork first, and ignoring them means we don;t do it.
>>
>>4669966
Oh, I figured that sort of thing would be just a part of that decision. Kaz, do I need to delete and repost with "Get Scrapper Squad check out" as its own action?
>>
>>4670008

The choice was more of an attitude to take in regards to the clones. Not necessarily an action. But if you want, you can leave the post up there and just make a new one, linking to the old post that you wanted to change something.

Incidentally, I mentioned in thread #2 that I won’t be using inhibitor/control chips, in spite of the fact that they’re “technically” a part of Legends/EU prior to Disney. Never did like that addition.
>>
>>4669816
>Yes. But at the first sign of any trouble, you will cut them down yourself.
The control is not particularly subtle. We only have to worry about a blaster in the back, nothing like political machinations, so even they themselves can consider how to be restrained.

>Anger at your friend’s betrayal, and burning desire to see justice for the Jedi Order.
Curiosity is fine for the fall, but dude murdered all the younglings.

>Follow up on any leads with the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>Help Troxl find a suitable place to settle the Kakari Tribes.
>>
Another thread at long last? A surprise to be sure, but a welcome one.

Kreia spitting straight facts about Apathy and waiting on a savior, +1

Yes, but at the first sign of trouble...
and have them begin training the local planetary militia.

Supporting Resignation regarding Vader

Nomiana

Gecko Integration
>>
Also, I agree 100% on inhibitor chips being wacky, taking any sort of agency and impact away from characters, just like making everyone reluctant revenants in the new MKs.
>>
File: Suzel_01.jpg (23 KB, 221x500)
23 KB
23 KB JPG
>>4669825
>>4669826
>>4669829
>>4669840
>>4669843
>>4669844
>>4669857
>>4669863
>>4669903
>>4669910
>>4669924
>>4669927
>>4669929
>>4669947
>>4669954
>>4670163

>You have faith in Skipp and Scrapper Squad that a repeat won’t happen again.
>Sorrow at how things have become, but determined to see the Dark Side Purged.

>Troxl/Kakari (10)
>Revenant (7)
>Nomiana (5)

The third day since your return begins no differently than any other day. The time differential between Amagi and Kakarit is mercifully small, only three or so odd hours. You rouse yourself, blinking the dust out of your eyes and the slight headache that had come with too much inebriation. You aren’t quite hungover, but it takes a good, long soak in the shower before you’re approaching maximum efficiency.

“You alright, boss?” Suzel inquires as you stumble into the mess hall. Elbawaraak makes a similar grunt of concern as you settle at the table for a quick breakfast of reheated protein. “…you look like you went a few rounds against a rancor.”

You frown. Surely you don’t look that bad? But you sigh quietly, picking up a fork to shove grains into your mouth. “Everything’s fine. Just had a long day yesterday, and another one ahead of me.”

Elba grunts. “Wrruuuuuhhh?”

“Physically? I’m fine. But mentally…” Pausing, you shrug as you chew on an unidentifiable strip of meat. “Feels like I did go a few rounds against a rancor.”

“Suggestion,” HK-82 declares on the countertop. The disembodied head alternates watching the organic crewmembers and B-33, the latter of whom struggles to handle cooking utensils. “Master, may I suggest taking iron or Vitamin D supplements? The merchant who sold me to you took them regularly in order to fight off scurvy and fatigue from long voyages in space.”

Not an entirely bad idea. As you make a mental note to ask for a prescription, you glance at your crew. In an effort to prevent any sort of awkward silence, you venture, “So, how’s shore leave been?”

Suzel beams as he chases down a glass of coffee. “Great, thanks for asking. Took some time to visit my father and see his new office, a modern miracle of architectural engineering. Thankfully devoid of undergrowth or jungle canopy!”

“Wruuuuh,” agrees the wookiee, before gesturing to the entirety of the ship. “Wraaaaah, wreeeeeh.”

HK-82, quick on the draw, dutifully states: “Translation: the wookiee has been spending his shore leave repairing damage sustained from Kakarit. He is nearly finished, but requires at least another day of work before setting off on another adventure.”

You whistle low, impressed. “You fixed everything by yourself?”

“Oy!” protests the nagai, scattering food as he waves his fork indignantly. “It was a group effort! Me, him, both droids…tried to get some of the M.D.S.F. engineers to help, but they had their hands full repairing ships limping back from the Chiller.”

(cont.)
>>
File: Torok Lamal.png (99 KB, 400x400)
99 KB
99 KB PNG
Ah, of course. It seems that your favor seems to have reached a limit, understandable as it might be. Wiping the corner of your mouth, you ask, “Any news from the front? I’ve heard that it’s a meatgrinder down there.”
Suzel nods. “Yeah, it’s…not bad, per se? We’re making progress and taking territory, but the bloody Tof aren’t making it easy.”

“Corner a rat, and it’ll bite,” you muse grimly. “Any specifics?”

He definitely had more than a few. Apparently, Hol had been getting regular reports from Suzui, now a colonel in the M.S.D.F., and had passed on the news to his son during a visit. More likely than not breaking a few security protocols in the process…not that anyone seems to be enforcing anything too strictly.

The first wave of the operation had involved starfighters making attack runs into the colony, and any outlying bunkers where the Tof had dug in. Between destroying artillery and anti-aircraft weaponry, they provided a distraction for the vanguard to make planetfall on the far side of the planet. The “beachhead” was a plateau just along the side of a high mountain, naturally shielding the invasion force from any sort of surface-borne ordinance.

To your surprise, you learn that Torok had made a name for himself among the other aces. Your brother had led the first wave of fighters into the primary base, blowing up weapons batteries and disabling generators. And as the latest intelligence had it, he’d been placed in charge of his own team, Blitz Squadron!

The corner of your mouth curves into a grin as relief spreads across your body. In your absence, it seems that your fellow Salamander had passed whatever test that Master Larid had set before him. You’ll definitely have to take time to catch up whenever he’s rotated out from the frontlines.

Suzel regales you of Master Aure and his mother, co-commanders of the vanguard fighting in brutal, subzero trench warfare. The nagai hesitantly notes that Suzui had been present when Aure discovered the younglings were missing…and regretfully within earshot of her furious shriek. But before he gets too far into describing the body count the two of them had made, the chrono on your wrist emits an electronic trill.

Hastily shoving food into your mouth, you thank your crew for the company and food before sprinting out of the Albatross. There wasn’t nearly enough time to ask about the missing younglings or Master Larid’s search, but you have a feeling that Suzel would’ve told you if something was amiss.

A shudder ripples through your body as you recall the “exercises” Master Larid made you do whenever you got too fresh for your own good. Recalling the mad gleam in his eyes that still haunts your nightmares, you almost feel bad for the brats and what’s coming to them.

Almost.

(cont.)
>>
File: Hero-King Troxl.jpg (183 KB, 581x1144)
183 KB
183 KB JPG
>>Later...

With Supreme Archon Keimann supervising the invasion of the Chiller, maintenance of the government fell to the myriad Archons he’d left in charge. The nature of the stratocracy meant the ministers were all entirely military, each with the gold bars denoting ranks of at least colonel or higher. But each had a cabinet of civilian experts and advisors to educate them as best they could in their respective subjects.

The Archon of Planetary Development, a lithe pantoran with the rank of brigadier general, looks uncomfortable as Hero-King Troxl stares unblinkingly towards him. The Kakari had not spared any expense in presenting himself as the leader of his people, appearing in his full battle-dress and regalia. Occasionally, Troxl licks his lips, but otherwise remains intensely focused upon the Archon.

Upon your arrival, visible relief breaks across the bureaucrat’s face. He stands up, almost shoving his chair backwards as you step into his office, a modest space decorated with maps of Amagi. These run the gamut from topographic to biome, with most devoted to the myriad cities and settlements scattered across the planet.

“Ah, Master Jedi!” He takes your hand and pumps it vigorously. “Thank you for taking the time to schedule this meeting. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Brigadier General Sheng Sanada, Archon of Planetary Development. Please, take a seat. Do you require any refreshments?”

You politely decline, and meet Troxl’s gaze.

“Sings-of-Devouring-Darkness,” the Kakari grunts. “Where’s my Sunstone Spear?”

You nod in return. “Hero-King Troxl. Did you need to dress up for all of this?”

His lips spread into a grin as you take the seat adjacent to him. “Only dressing as necessary for stately function.”
“The Sunstone Spear locked in my starship, awaiting delivery to the Globus upon completion of this meeting,” you quietly finish.

With pleasantries out of the way, the three of you prepare to talk business.

“We are, of course, more than willing to accommodate your arrival,” Sanada explains. He takes a moment to activate the holoprojector on his desk, displaying a 3D map of the immediate area. “I have the immediate authority to prepare a space within Serano Spaceport for interim housing for the Kakari.”

Troxl squints. “Interim?”

“Temporary housing. We’ve taken your physiology into account, and feel that it would be prudent to settle you first within the city. You’ll be able to start moving your people into the area as soon as the conclusion of this meeting!”

Jedi and King squint at the offered land. To call it a “ghetto” would be rude, especially since it’s two square blocks of warehouses. Warehouses, in the Archon’s defense, that look like they’d been recently renovated and reinforced to be brought up to standard. Most likely stored raw materials, by their close proximity to the market and industrial district.

(cont.)
>>
“Can the city bear the burden of seven hundred refugees?” you inquire.

Sanada nodded. “I understand that your ship has surplus-”

“Where is the grazing land for our beasts of burden?” Troxl suddenly interrupts, scrutinizing the hologram with a narrow eye.

“Beasts of burden…?” The Archon frowns, perplexed. “I was…unaware that you had brought livestock with you-”

But before he can finish, the Kakari interjects once more, “You say this is interim. Temporary. How long is this ‘interim’? Where will my people go?”

Sanada’s smile is only slightly strained at the Kakari’s bluntness, but doesn’t break his professionalism. “Regretfully, the bulk of our resources are currently engaged in warfare at the edge of the system. But once the conflict is over, we’ll have the manpower to add a neighborhood in Serano-”

“‘Neighborhood?’” Troxl looks at you. “What is a ‘neighborhood?’”

Resisting the urge to sigh, you quietly answer, “They’re planning to have you live within the city…”

“In city?” The Hero-King looks amazed, but not in awe or wonder. Shaking his head, Troxl raises a talon, pointing first at the blip representing Serano Spaceport, then trailing away with a wide, sweeping gesture. “More space out here in the wild, outside of the city! Kakari have no need for the metal buildings. We will be perfectly fine to build Nest’s Beginnings without your help.”

“The wilderness?” Sanada’s tone is equal measures offended and befuddled. “Hero-King, please be reasonable! You’ve only just arrived on Amagi, and have only begun to settle in. We are still in the middle of processing your tribe and clans. And development of the wilds is currently not on the books for at least another decade!”

That causes you to start. “A decade? But you’re the Archon of Planetary Development.”

“And the Supreme Archon wants to focus on urbanization of the current cities before thinking of expanding into the wilderness,” the pantoran explains with a huff. But his attention returns to Troxl, and he entreats him once more. “The wilderness may not be ready for the livestock you bring. Already, the savannahs and plains are inhabited by fearsome predators: Roque Ja! They have no fear in attacking our armed convoys, and easily shrug off laser fire. What more for…”

He pauses, gawking at the crude collection of feathers and armor that hang off of Troxl’s body. “…what more for unprepared settlers?”

Troxl looks contemplative. “…how big do these Roque Jas get?”

“Only slightly shorter than a Tall Walker,” you reply, recalling an image that Keimann had showed you, “…but they make up in their weight by almost half a ton.”

Without being prompted, Sanada reaches for a datapad, and pulls an image of said predator onto the screen. Passing it on to Troxl, however, seems to have an opposite effect of deterrence. The Hero-King rubs the pommel of his tooth-sword.

(cont.)
>>
“…it has been far too long since a Great Hunt,” he eventually says, handing the pad back with a wide smile. “Wilderness is perfect for the Kakari!”

The Archon looks a hop, skip and a jump away from his wits’ end. “Your…your highness, please be reasonable! The land you might wish to settle might become designated as part of a zoning project. I would hate to have to relocate you-”

“Ten years is plenty time to build another settlement,” Troxl states flatly.

“How…” Sanada tugs at the collar of his uniform. “…how many do you intend to build?”

“However many are needed to house a stable population of my people. I predict many egg-clutches to be born soon. And I fear that this…warehouse neighborhood will not be enough.”

“We can always clear out more buildings! And renovate them for your use!”

“I do not wish to impose any further than necessary. The Kakari are hardy and strong. We survived far worse than an oversized, half-ton of fur and claw. Can easily settle wilderness, far away from any major city for a very long time. We'll come to trade and offer tithe as you see fit.”

You’ve been silent as they keep on going back and forth. Both have valid points and weaknesses. There doesn’t seem to be an immediate right answer that either of them can come to. Which is why they turn towards you: Sanada, with a plea for help and reason in his eyes; Troxl, with the gaze of one friend to another.

>>Please select an option:
>Take Sanada’s side, and convince Troxl to make compromises with the hosts of his new homeworld.
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
>Custom option. (Write-in)

[VOTE OPEN FOR EIGHT HOURS]
>>
>>4670533
>>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
I really don’t see much of a reason to disagree with Troxl
>>
>>4670533
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
"If the Kakari say they can handle it, they can handle it. And this way, they do not detract from the war effort. A win-win scenario, for the moment."
>>
>>4670533
>>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
fuck cities, kill monsters
>>
>>4670533
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.

I mean doesnt that solve the ambush problems?
>>
>>4670533
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
For the Kakari to carry themselves with pride, they need to challenge themselves among the local fauna and prove that they can adapt. They may not be ready to help with the war effort now, but this way that time may come much sooner than we expect.

But there may be problems with population and territory.
>Insist that some of the Kakari take lessons in family planning and tour the city to understand how they house many in small spaces.
>Float the idea of a rock-shifted underground network, whether for transport, evacuation bunkers, or otherwise.
>>
>>4670533
>>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
>>
Seconding the anon about Kakari needing to conquer the wilderness, although family planning seems redundant since they survived with scant resources underground for untold generations.

What exactly was meant when Kreia said this?
"True humility is not one thinking less of him or herself, but thinking less of one’s self."
>>
>>4670590
Thats the problem dude. Theyve been living on scarce resources for centuries, before Jombaral even came. They are not prepared for abundant resources, radically increased life expectancy, and overpopulation.

They might know about waste disposal though
>>
>>4669853
>much edge, wow
>>
>>4670590
>What exactly was meant when Kreia said this?
>"True humility is not one thinking less of him or herself, but thinking less of one’s self."
She’s saying that humility isn’t thinking less (qualitative) about yourself but thinking less (quantitative) about yourself overall. That’s my take on it
>>
>>4670533
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.

I mean I don't see why not. Think of it this way, the Kakari can hekp you kick start your wilderness settlement project early!
>>
>>4670570
Support

Also glad to see this quest back
>>
>>4670533
>>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
>>
>>4670533
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.
>>
>>4670533
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.

Ask Troxl if he’s okay with a few Kakari stay in the city to integrate with the citizens and act as the tribe’s representatives to the city.
>>
>>4670533
>Before taking a side try to better explain the viewpoints of the other to their peer.
>>
>>4670533
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.

Introduce them to blasters, they could be given older models. Useful for kill birds or animals at longer distances.... beside the army might like to recruit a few of them for wars in future years.
As well other technologies. Agriculture, construction and so on.
>>
>Take Troxl’s side, and insist that the Kakari be given land in the wilderness to create a new settlement.

Even slugthrowers would be of use to them, and require less maintenance than blasters.
>>
>>4670720
It’s a bit late, but adding onto this, maybe we could ask if the Kakari could build a temple or embassy in one of the designated areas, as some sort of means for the government to meet with Kakari leaders without needing to go into the wilderness, and to allow the Tribe a voice in local politics.
>>
>>4670538
>>4670544
>>4670551
>>4670568
>>4670570
>>4670581
>>4670590
>>4670665
>>4670667
>>4670672
>>4670688
>>4670720
>>4670984
>>4671009
>>4671036

“If the Hero-King says that his people can handle it,” you smoothly interject, “Then I believe that they can handle it. And in this way, they won’t detract from the war effort. They’ll be in charge of clearing out their own living space. A win-win effort for both parties involved.”

The Kakari are a hardy people, fiercely proud and stubborn in the face of adversary. One needn’t look further than the threat of extinction, whether it be a slow attrition to an outright invasion of Nest’s End. Of course, they aren’t nearly stupid enough to accept help when they clearly need it…at least, with the exception of Troxl’s late father.

Partnership and services exchanged is more than welcome. Charity, on the other hand, seems to be something to be viewed with wariness. A scholar of xenoscience might attribute this way of thinking to the last four thousand years they spent in hiding underground. While not nearly so cold as to begin culling their own numbers for the sake of maintaining efficiency, a mentality of “survival of the fittest” seems to pervade the Kakari culture.

Troxl makes no effort to hide his approval. But the Archon isn’t bothering either to hide his reservations. Clearing his throat, he looks askance at the projected space where the Kakari’s talon points. “…this is…highly unorthodox. New as it is, there is a certain degree of protocol that needs to be followed.”

“What manner of protocol?” you query.

The pantoran coughs, sipping from a glass before speaking, “The Supreme Archon and your Jedi Master Aure took the time to outline several laws in regards to refugees. They felt that in light of how…blatant and provocative the revolution had been, the system might become a haven for slaves fleeing oppression. There were, of course, several other vessels that managed to escape from the spaceport, not only just those of the Tof remnant. And word of mouth is a very powerful tool, no?”

Ah. That…would make enough sense. “I take it that we aren’t the first then?”

“No, you aren’t,” confirms the Archon, idly glancing towards a stack of papers on the other side of his desk. “Protocol dictates that we give the refugees a certain amount of time to acclimate to life in the stratocracy as they get their bearings in order. I won’t bore you with the minutia, but while it’s expected for refugees to clique together, they’ll be mostly…assimilated into the Alliance as part of a persistent war economy.

“Those that aren’t soldiers will be laborers in either construction, agriculture, industry, and what have you based upon their skills. Master Aure might be able to explain it better, but she’s currently spearheading the invasion on the Chiller.”

(cont.)
>>
That’s…well, they’ve certainly come a long way from a barely cohesive mob of slaves. With that said, you’re still somewhat leery in regards to “assimilation”. As is Troxl, even if he didn’t understand everything. Just the bare minimum to be leery towards the Archon.

“…the Kakari will pay tithe for living on the planet, and send soldiers to march with you,” the Wise King states with the placidness of the calm before the storm, “But we will not be deprived of our identity. Allies, yes. Assimilated? Never.

“No one is demanding of such a thing,” assures Sanada, almost offended at how much bite the last word had.

But you know why Troxl is leery. Even if it isn’t quite the same “literal” assimilation that Jombaral wished for the Kakari, the integration within the Mylar Star Alliance isn’t something the Kakari would be too keen with. Pride and stubbornness, and their own streak of self-reliance, for better or worse.

Coughing to clear the air, you interject, “Archon, I think we can agree that there are many arguments and points to be made. But first and foremost is that the Kakari are not like any refugees that’ve arrived since the revolution.”

He gives you a flat look, almost as if saying “get on with it”. And to that, you acquiesce: “The Kakari aren’t slaves. Refugees, certainly, but of something hellbent on giving them a fate worse than death. Normal protocol doesn’t apply to them.”

It’s rules-lawyering at its best, and both you and the Archon know it. But to mollify him, you add, “Troxl, perhaps it would be best to establish an embassy in the space provided by the Archon.”

“An embassy,” repeats the Kakarit with a dubious tone.

“An intermediary place for you to meet and discuss affairs of state. Not unlike your own Obsidian Throne, but a more…neutral ground for both parties to meet.”

He seems to be receptive to that idea, at the very least. “That is…acceptable. Embassy and settlement in the wilds…”

Switching tactics, you speak to Sanada, “The Kakari will tame the wilderness beyond the spaceport. I’ve seen first hand with what they can offer as ‘tithe’. Their fighters are fierce, and will be even more deadly once you teach them how to use blasters. Their beasts of burden require little water to survive, and they’re masters of underground exploration.

“It will be an investment that you’d be ill-pressed not to take.”

Sanada looks almost ready to agree. You can see the gears turning in his head as he runs the math in his thoughts. But he isn’t about to cave nearly just yet. With a sigh, he replies: “The Supreme Archon will be notified about this development.”

You nod. “Of course.”

“…this may set a dangerous precedent for future refugees to create their own enclaves outside of the M.S.D.F. purview,” he grumbles.

(cont.)
>>
File: Bloody Page.jpg (98 KB, 736x460)
98 KB
98 KB JPG
True. But you’ll have to get word to Keimann that the Kakari are a special case. And both you and Sanada know that he’ll listen to you. Besides, if you’re going to call in a favor owed from the revolution, you might as well do them on someone else’s behalf. The Albatross had been a perfect gift.

The pantoran exhales wearily, finishing the remainder of water in his glass. Then, he regards the two of you with perhaps the driest look he can muster before offering his hand to Troxl.

“…until the Supreme Archon returns with a final verdict, this meeting is adjourned,” he intones, “But should he send word of his approval…I’ll begin making both the preparations and arrangements to best place the Kakari.”

Unlike your first few meetings, Troxl now knows the significance of a handshake. The feathers in his headdress and charms bob as the Kakari and Sanada clasp hands and pump once before letting go.

Diplomacy is truly a wonderful thing.

>>Later…

There are a few errands you need to complete before you can pursue any leads on the Revenant. There is a matter of messaging Kiemann, and giving an abridged, watered-down version of the events that took place on Kakarit. Interwoven between the text are hints of cashing in a favor that have the subtlety of an exploding star.

And then the Sunstone Spear. You gave the weapon a final cleaning before returning it to the Kakari. The Communion personally arrives to receive it, with Eztil at the lead. Bos’ apprentice still looks uncertain at both her new role as Grand Shamanka, advisor to Troxl, and the new planet the Kakari will be calling home. But she visibly relaxes as you give her the spear, managing a soft smile and a bow before they’re shuttled back to the Globus.

Now, for the Revenant and the Storyteller…

The only leading clue from the site where she fell had been a page. Said page, according to the report you read, had spontaneously combusted before it could be retrieved and secured. But the workers had managed to take a picture before its immolation. It had been neatly delivered to the Albatross on a dataslate, in addition to some observations the Aure had made upon its discovery.

Master Larid didn’t have time to take too close of a look. He’d had to settle in the additional members of his crew, as well as prepare for your return from Kakarit. But you have enough information to work with.

Sitting in the mess hall, with a steaming mug of tea courtesy of B-33, you study the image with a fierce intensity. The ancient language of the Sith is certainly not an easy thing to read. But you have a firm grasp of it, even if you have no desire to speak or commit it to paper. Master Aure’s rough translation provides just enough of a springboard for you to base your research on…

(cont.)
>>
But from there, it’s brute force heuristics as you try and puzzle out what the hell the damned thing’s referring to. The fact that the page is covered in half-dried blood does absolutely no favors in making heads or tails out of the runes of the ancient foe.

“Leviathan…” you murmur, frowning at Aure’s scribbles, then to what few notes you have on your own dataslate on the subject. Which admittedly isn’t much; the bulk of knowledge of the Sith is on the Bantha, but it's enough to provide context and speculation, if not immediate one-to-one vocabulary. “…threshold…chase, follow…action not undone…exultation…joy…?”

>>Roll 2d6 + 6 Sith (+2 Stat, +1 Skill, +3 Bonus)
>Best out of three.
>>
Rolled 2, 1 + 6 = 9 (2d6 + 6)

>>4671699
>>
Rolled 1, 1 + 6 = 8 (2d6 + 6)

>>4671699
Not off to a good start, I see.
>>
File: 1568813007700.png (24 KB, 124x128)
24 KB
24 KB PNG
>>4671726
>snake eyes
>>
Rolled 5, 6 + 6 = 17 (2d6 + 6)

>>4671699
>>
Rolled 3, 5 + 6 = 14 (2d6 + 6)

>>4671699
DOUBLES
>>
File: The_sound_of_poggers.png (190 KB, 340x330)
190 KB
190 KB PNG
>>4671743
Clutch
>>
>>4671743
Good show, anon
>>
File: Datapad.jpg (105 KB, 700x700)
105 KB
105 KB JPG
>>4671700
>>4671726
>>4671743

>>Clutch, but with a Critical Failure.
>>Interpreting this from the FFG Narrative Dice system...
>>Interpreted as a successful roll, albeit significant Despair.

What is written on the image is not merely the Common Sith found in the relics of the Old Republic. These would be the tarnished records that detail everyday life, the mundane and observations clinically noted and drier in prose than legal code. This is High Sith, the hieroglyphs and letterings reserved exclusively for the highest castes when the Sith flourished on Korriban. Comparable runes could be found in the forbidden holocrons stored in the Jedi Temple, created by only the darkest adepts and masters of Sith Sorcery.

Your skin crawls with every passing minute you take to decipher the page. Every so often, you have to shift in your seat, scratch your arm, distract yourself or do anything to alleviate the discomfort that comes from scrutinizing the letters. Progress, if nothing else, is at least being made. But even as you eke out word after word, analyze grammar and syntax, you dare not speak the language used by the enemies of the Jedi.

At least, you won’t speak what’s on the page before running it through Basic first.

“…shall pass…hero…threshold…?” you translate, scribbling the words onto a nearby scrap of paper. “The hero shall pass the threshold…”

Verb, subject and object. This is the most typical declarative word order of the language. And for the most part, the words on the page don’t break this structure. But the cost for this relative straightforward presentation is infuriatingly vague or outright abstract statements that don’t make any sense.

Of course, this is to be expected, given you have only one page. The text continues a line of thought from a prior page, referencing a formless monster before diverging into a wild tangent about the sexuality of…honestly, you have no idea. The author at least took the time to add footnotes when referencing an alien species that believe in what you can roughly translate to “women between the trees”, and then to another that holds superstition about a one-legged, one-eyed demon that offers treasure should it be defeated.

How delightful. The Revenant seems to have dropped a page from her cultural studies textbook…that just so happens to have been written by a Sith, quite literally with blood. And some sort of vellum. You aren’t quite sure what died to give the page a very…off-color hue, but something had donated its skin to the cause. Or someone, in the case of those ghoulish enough to bind their books with the skin of sentient beings.

“I’m a Jedi Shadow, not a xenoscientist, dammit,” you curse as you collapse back into your seat. The coffee B-33 poured for you has long since gone cold, but you down it anyway. The joints of your spine pop and crack as you stretch, flexing like a cat before you stand up to go refill your mug and go back to the grind.

(cont.)
>>
“I’m a Jedi Shadow, not a xenoscientist, dammit."

Hah! I love a good Buck Rogers reference.
>>
>>4672900
Of course, knowing how insidious the Sith can go…you wouldn’t be surprised to discover if someone had been forced to “donate” their skin in some sort of depraved ritual of the Dark Side. You shiver, suppressing a sneeze as you scratch your arm lightly. The discomfort you feel lodged firmly in your bones won’t be going away for a long time, you think.

But armed with what knowledge you have and Master Aure’s notes, you’re able to make significant progress. Disregarding any cultures or species that might now be extinct, you manage to eke out a sort of…

…honestly, you aren’t sure what it is. But zooming in as close as you can without losing the image to hyper-pixilation reveals a series of words dotting the corners of the page. Someone had written in the margins as well, detailing an incomplete story. Not nearly enough to make out anything concrete, as it references stars without coordinates or aliens without discernable features. But a consistent subject remains, described by the epithets ascribed to her:

Anguished One who Speaks and Lives for the Dead.

Dark Disciple of a Vanished Star and Blackened Moon.

Final, Vengeful Scream of the Shadowed Valley..

The itch in your arm abates as you address it, idly scratching as you jot down the titles borne by the Revenant. Borne, self-assigned, or chosen? The madwoman doesn’t seem the kind to assign herself flowery epithets. Logically, you can assume that these were chosen by her dark master, the pureblood Sith referring to himself as the Storyteller.

Which suddenly makes a surprising amount of sense, considering the subject of the page. But you aren’t nearly done. Just a final sentence in the margins before you’ll call it quits. Beyond the physical discomfort of being hunched over, and the mental fatigue of parsing through the teachings of the Dark Side, you need a very long, nice, hot shower.

“…pursue or chase…I, or the person speaking…” You take a moment to squint at the last word. Master Aure had been on the right track with this last translation. “Bliss” is the right translation, referencing exaltation as a feeling. But the addition of a singular word changes everything, structuring the joy not as some abstract emotion, but something owned and specific.

“…I follow my bliss,” you whisper softly, as all noise seems to flee the interior of the mess hall. Then, you restructure the sentence in the context of the page. It is equal measures a commandment, as well as a teaching. “Follow your bliss…?”

Indeed.

There is no warning as the itching, uncomfortable sensation in your arm explodes violently, and turns your world into pain.

(cont.)
>>
Oh dear.
>>
>>4672934
Oh, well that's not good.
>>
Really starting to dislike this Storyteller guy. He keeps pulling this kind of stunt whenever we meet.
>>
>>4672934

Appliances and equipment come crashing down, following you to the floor as you writhe in agony. A scream tears itself from your throat, raw and guttural as an unseen vice. The pain is familiar enough, the same kind of agony your arm had suffered when you tried to save the Revenant from falling down the Opulent Palace. But there isn’t any physical damage, even as your fingers gesticulate wildly and your muscles strain and ripple beneath your skin.

Even severed from the whole, the shard persists.

For a brief moment, as the agony reaches a new height, your mind almost seems to disconnect from your senses. And in that moment of clarity, you struggle to reconcile the reality of the situation.

Is this destiny or fate to mark both Revenant and Shadow?

“How-?!” The question comes out of your throat more like a snarling croak than any verbal query. But your thoughts finish for you. Prior to your departure to rescue Arotta, you’d taken the time to purge the taint of the Dark Side from your arm. How does that golden-eyed bastard have any connection-?

That is the wrong question.

And all coherent thought leaves your mind as the flesh of your right hand begins to visibly warp. Skin distends, bones grind, and muscle tears as meat of your hand contorts, shaping itself into something resembling a rune.

Don’t struggle, Jedi, the voice croons, This is merely a form of bliss...

>>Please roll 2d10 + 10 to Sever Force. (+3 Will, +2 Skill, +5 Affinity).
>Best out of three.
>>
>>4673140
what the fug
>>
Rolled 10, 5 + 10 = 25 (2d10 + 10)

>>4673140
>>
Rolled 3, 6 + 10 = 19 (2d10 + 10)

>>4673140
YOU PICKED THE WRONG HOUSE FOOL
>>
Rolled 6, 4 + 10 = 20 (2d10 + 10)

>>4673140
Ow ow ow
>>
"Coughio up el Sith secretos before I blast your brains out all over the transparisteelio"

I take it our arm troubles will not cease until we get robit-arms.
>>
File: K-Wing_NEGVV.jpg (210 KB, 1200x791)
210 KB
210 KB JPG
>>4669323
WE BACK IN BUSINESS, BOYS!
>>
>>4673144
>>4673148
>>4673156

The Force responds to your plea for aid, rushing to your side as you conjure power within yourself. Discharging an ability in the heat of passion is a dangerous thing to do, but you have little choice. Whatever happens, you’d rather deal with that fallout than with whatever the Storyteller is doing with your hand.

“Get out…of my head!” you scream, and release the power.

Objects go flying as the telekinetic wave rushes across the mess hall. Glass shatters and electronics short-circuit as the Force causes the surrounding area to shudder and warp.

In an instant, the sensation of your flesh breaking down and forming into something utterly alien ceases. The sensation of lightning and liquid metal coursing through your arm vanishes, and the offending limb drops slack against your side. But the damage is done, if no longer threatening.

A half-formed rune juts from the back of your right hand, almost resembling the scar tissue of a brand. Extensive treatment will be required to undo the damage, possibly including enclosure in bacta.

An interesting decision...to starve the shard of power...

Bile rises to the back of your throat, but you swallow it fiercely. However it's happened, the bastard's still here.

Little wonder the shard was broken from the whole, with power such as this...

The voice is a whisper, fading with every passing word and second. It makes no effort to raise its voice, to shout or rave like the Dark Jedi you'd brought to ruin. It almost seems disappointed, like a father to a particularly petulant child. Speaking from nowhere, unable to see as you turn frantically in the mess hall, it only continues to posture as its voice diminishes.

You would make an excellent hero...and your journey would be a worthy addition...

You breathe hard, isolating the source of the voice as a faint, lingering presence at the tip of your fingers. It pulses weakly, a sliver of the Dark Side cut off from the host it had latched upon.

But no matter. When you meet the whole once more, another offer may be made...another story collected...

>>What will you do?
>Attempt negotiations with the shard.
>Let the fragment starve and die.
>Custom option.

[VOTE OPEN FOR THREE HOURS]
>>
>>4673259
>>Let the fragment starve and die.
>>
>>4673259
>>Custom option.
Push it into a pinky and then sever it from your body
>>
>>4673259
>Let the fragment starve and die.
>>
>>4673259
>>Let the fragment starve and die.
>>
>>4673259
>>Let the fragment starve and die.
>>
>>4673259
>Let the fragment starve and die.
The only evil force entity we're serving is Sidious once he gets tired of Vader.
>>
>>4673259
>>Attempt negotiations with the shard.
i need to know more
>>
>>4673259
>>Attempt negotiations with the shard.
>>
Negotiations
>>
>>4673259
This isn't the sort of thing you can stick in a holocron, right?
>Pull out the kakerox crystal as a focus, try to figure out more specific mental models for attacking the shard as it dies.
>>
Changing my "negotiations" vote to seconding the crystal focus plan.
>>
File: maxresdefault.jpg (92 KB, 1280x720)
92 KB
92 KB JPG
>>4673259
>Attempt negotiations with the shard
Are we seriously dealing with another evil force entity so close to the last one? How many assholes are on this ship anyhow?
>>
File: EtTiCtwXMAcRKCR.jpg (24 KB, 540x456)
24 KB
24 KB JPG
>>4673489
>>4673508
>>4673611
HERETICS!
>>
>>4673259
>Pull out the kakerox crystal as a focus, try to figure out more specific mental models for attacking the shard as it dies.
>>
>>4673259
>Let the fragment starve and die.
In an Ideal world, though, if possible, I'd say
>Keep it barely alive till Larid can be contacted again, because it would be good to get a second set of eyes on this what-the-fuckery before removing it completely.
>>
>>4673722
That's actually not a terrible idea, he is an expert on these sorts of things

Supporting
>>
>>4673259
>Let the fragment starve and die.
>>
>>4673263
>>4673267
>>4673269
>>4673273
>>4673298
>>4673315
>>4673722
>>4673823

You’ll give the damned thing no quarter. Even if it had made overtures to try and negotiate, you’d have refused in in the span of a heartbeat. A Jedi Shadow gives no quarter against the machinations against those seeped of the Dark Side. And you’d be a damned idiot to try and talk after it tried to brand you with Force knows what.

>>You have gained Light Side points.

This is no matter…you will still serve, in one way or another...

The voice is little more than a quiet whisper, mist that only lingers before the arrival of the dawn. Starved of the energy to sustain itself, it only has seconds of self-realization before utter oblivion.

…every heroine needs a dragon to slay, to test herself against…

The presence within your fingertips, like an oil befouling a spring, disappears into the void. All that it leaves behind is a disoriented Jedi, a terrible mess within the Albatross, and a satisfied leer.

…a stepping stone on the journey towards the object of her vengeance …

>>Later

Elba and Suzel know better than to ask questions when they return to the ship and find you meditating on the floor. Professionalism gives them a handful of seconds to look agape at the mess before they start cleaning up. Not to say you aren’t a slob; you’d taken the time to mop up the coffee so it wouldn’t stain the floor.

But beyond that, you aren’t taking any chances. The rest of your day was spent in meditation, embracing the Light Side of the Force to scourge your body of whatever taint might be left. The Storyteller, Jombaral…you don’t give a damn, and are certainly not taking any chances. Only once you’re absolutely sure that your soul is as clean as it can get before you unstick your legs and exit the trance.

“Sorry about the mess,” you apologize lowly, joining your crew in the cleanup effort. “…homework got the better of me.”

Elba doesn’t look too bothered, merely grunting as you help replace the pots and pans in their respective cubbyholes. But Suzel’s eyes are sharper than the wookiee’s. The nagai points a nervous finger towards your right hand, venturing hesitantly, “I knew a slave back before the revolution who was good with tattoos. He could…get that removed for you…?”

If only the damage to your hand was the result of some drunken, impulse tattoo the likes of which could be found on the students at the University of Coruscant. The worst of the damage is purely superficial; your nerves still function as well as they can, and your talent with a lightsaber remains undiminished. With all that said, it’s incredibly unpleasant to look at.

Still, you bark a dry, sardonic laugh and shake your head. “…maybe later. And only once I get a doctor to look at this.”

(cont.)
>>
File: Sha Koon.png (410 KB, 540x720)
410 KB
410 KB PNG
>>Line Break

On the fourth day since your return, Master Larid calls you to let you know that all twelve younglings on the Chiller are in his custody.

Even through the communicator, you can hear both the disappointment and the blood pressure in his voice as he recounts the story. And when he’s finished, you can feel the onset of a migraine approaching. To say that you’re angry would be wrong; it isn’t anger as much as both relief that no one was killed, as well as the fact that these children might literally be the death of you.

“I’ll be back on Amagi in the afternoon, local time,” he says in a clipped tone, “So take care of whatever business you need to do before meeting me at the docks. Beyond giving one hell of a scolding, there’s a matter of discussion that needs to happen.”

“Potential padawans?” you ask with an uncertain feeling in your chest.

“Potential padawans,” he confirms. “Because at the very least, I know we can elevate two, maybe three of the brat pack to that rank…even if they’re still immature to do something as stupid as sneaking onto the Chiller.”

You wisely decide to not mention that in the thirteen years of apprenticeship, the two of you had done similar acts of reckless idiocy. But it doesn’t take much brain power to figure out that at least two of those three Jedi are yourself and Larid. Arotta and Master Kosa are still recovering from Kakarit campaign; Aure and Torok are on the Chiller with the M.S.D.F.

“Who is the third Jedi?” you ask.

“That would be me,” breathes a thin, modulated voice, entering the conversation on another line. “Jedi Knight Sha Koon. I believe we met briefly upon your return from the jungle planet?”

Sha Koon! The niece of Master Plo Koon, renowned Jedi Master and General during the Clone Wars. You don’t bother holding back a grin as you reply, “Yeah, I think we did. Not more than a handful of seconds, though.”

“Indeed. I look forward to a second, more prolonged encounter.”

Once her line’s gone slack, and she’s confirmed to be out of the conversation, you query, “What do you mean when you said ‘maybe’ three? Is there something wrong with Koon?”

It’s not too hard to visualize the look of consternation on his face. “It’s…complicated.”

“How so?”

He clicks his tongue, inhaling sharply. “…I’ll explain it in full once we make planetfall. But I’ll give you the abridged version: she was there in the Temple when Vader led the clones, and she’s got it in her head that she’s supposed to be the one to kill him.”

The emotional whiplash you feel could’ve snapped your neck, even as the blood in your veins turns to ice. “What?!”

(cont.)
>>
“…like I said: complicated, as well as the fact that she knows that Vader is Skywalker. Finish whatever business you need taking care of. I’ll see you in eight hours.”

With little more than a grunt of farewell, Larid cuts the line, leaving you and that doozy of a mental image stuck in your head.

>>Please select one activity:
>Ask around if anyone knew where Nomiana Whrul departed.
>Check in with the Clones to discuss what happened in Nest's End.
>Help the local milita flush out a recently-excavated Tof panic bunker.
>Inquire about hiring more crewmates for the Albatross.
>Search for more leads on the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>Custom option. [Write-in]

[VOTE OPEN FOR FIVE HOURS
>>
>>4674027
>>Search for more leads on the Revenant and the Storyteller.
>>
File: cc8.png (63 KB, 225x225)
63 KB
63 KB PNG
>>4674015
>Wanting to kill Vader
>Every Heroine needs a Dragon
>A stepping stone to Vengeance
Call me crazy but I think we're in the middle of a self-fulfilling prophecy. If that is the case then I think our best bet is to stay the hell away from the this storyteller dude. it's a lose-lose situation, either she wants to go kill Vader and we stop her, likely dyijg or being injured in the process, or she goes to off to kill Vader and gets merced regardless, all according to his design.

>>4674027
>Help the local milita flush out a recently-excavated Tof panic bunker.

We've been meaning to for a while, I say we go do it already.
>>
>>4674027
>>Help the local milita flush out a recently-excavated Tof panic bunker.
>>
>>4674027
>>Check in with the Clones to discuss what happened in Nest's End.
>>
>>4674027
>>Check in with the Clones to discuss what happened in Nest's End.
>>
>>4674027
>Search for more leads on the Revenant and the Storyteller.
Rather not have a True Sith running around with a direct hotline into our head.
>>
>>4674027
>Help the local milita flush out a recently-excavated Tof panic bunker.
>>
>>4674027
>Check in with the Clones to discuss what happened in Nest's End.

If we're not cutting ties with them, best to make sure the situation is resolved.
>>
Nomiana Whrul

Then look for new companions.

We might have time to raid the bunker after that, those shouldn't take up too much time.
>>
>>4674174
>Please select one activity
>>
>>4674027
>>4674111
> >Check in with the Clones
Switching to clones to move this faster, and to ensure they don’t accidentally scare the younglings to death.
>>
>>4674027
>>Check in with the Clones to discuss what happened in Nest's End.
>>
>>4674027
>Check in with the Clones to discuss what happened in Nest's End.
>>
File: Commander Skipp.png (798 KB, 801x1167)
798 KB
798 KB PNG
>>4674062
>>4674079
>>4674134
>>4674253
>>4674335
>>4674571

The Clones linger on the Globus, stuck in military limbo for lack of a better term. You aren’t quite sure how to introduce them to the rest of the Jedi, even if you and Master Kosa could have vouched for them. Of course, that line of thinking is only possible in a reality where they nearly didn’t loose control and try to shoot you.

Still, they don’t seem to mind. The borrowed hangar they’ve settled into is comfortable enough, in their own words. But you have the feeling that until Cooper gets the hang of his new limbs, mechanical or otherwise, they won’t be going too far away.

Thus, the scene. Oann walks Cooper through some physical therapy, an exercise in stacking blocks of metal with a shiny, new cybernetic arm. Trykov helps Stye polish and repair the Burn Trooper’s armor as Evo’s legs peek out from out of his AT-RT. Roppock has disassembled his weapon, inspecting it for wear and tear under the watchful eye of his commanding officer.

“Master Jedi,” Skipp greets as you enter into the hangar. “Wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

You smile wryly. “Yeah, sorry for dropping in on short notice.”

“Not a problem. You ready to resume your firearms training?”

“Maybe next time.” The glib drains out of your voice, and Skipp stands to attention as your posture shifts. “…my master’s coming back from the Chiller. He’ll be here in a couple of hours.”

The commander nods. “He found your younglings, then?”

“Yep. All twelve, and I don’t pity ‘em in the slightest for what they’ve brought down on themselves.”

“How so?”

It’s hard to suppress a shudder. “…my master was very…creative whenever the time for remedial punishment came to be.”

The clone snorts. “I’ll believe that. Sneaking onto a frozen world…”

But you aren’t nearly finished. “There’s something else that we need to discuss.”

Skipp immediately catches the trepidation in your voice. “What's wrong?"

You take a glance at the rest of the troops. As far the situation is concerned, the noise of repairs and other activities would have drowned out your conversation. But you can see Roppock, even as the rookie fumbles with the reassembly of his weapon, trying to strain in and eavesdrop on the conversation. Similarly, Oann and Cooper have taken a break, quaffing water as they sneak glances towards you and Skipp.

Staring him straight in the eyes, you whisper in a delicate, diplomatic sotto voice: “We didn’t have time back then or in the aftermath of the Exodus, but we need to talk about what happened on the Harvester’s back.”

(cont.)
>>
“…ah.” His stance visibly changes, becoming more wary, guarded. “…thought you’d might want to clear that bit up, sir.”

“…yeah.”

“…because of the younglings?”

Because it only now came to mind after the sardonic, mean-spirited gatekeeper within a holocron raised a very valid point, commander…[/b]

>>Concerning matters of speaking, you will… [Choose one]
>Ask Skipp if you could speak to him in private. Better to respect the chain of command.
>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.

>>And as to how you will open the discussion…[Choose one]
>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>Insist that you aren’t going to do anything dramatic, but imply that the next time it happens…
>Custom option. [Write-in]

>>Please structure your votes like this:
>Matters of speaking.
>Opening discussion.

[VOTE OPEN FOR EIGHT HOURS]
>>
>>4675296
>Matters of speaking.
>>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.
>Opening discussion.
>>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>>
>>4675296
>>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.

>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>Warn them of the likely possibility of being interrogated by Larid or Kosa. Whether they trust our word or not, they would probably want.....closure, regarding their former comrades.
>>
>>4675296
>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.

>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident
>>
>>4675296
>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.

>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident

How many clones are in here anyways? Can we explain to them the origins of Orderyay ixtysixsay?
>>
>>4675296
>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.

>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>>
>>4675296
>>Ask Skipp if you could speak to him in private. Better to respect the chain of command.
>>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>>
>>4675296
>>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.
>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>>
>>4675296
>Ask Skipp if you could speak to him in private. Better to respect the chain of command.
>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>>
>>4675296
>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.
>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>>
>>4675296
>Ask Skipp if you could speak to him in private. Better to respect the chain of command.
We weren't their general, addressing Skipp should be enough.

>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.
>>
>>4675296
>Have all the clones stop what they’re doing and fall in line. Better to address them all.

>Affirm your faith in Scrapper Squad, but raise the worrying possibility of a repeat incident.

>Offer to buy them a drink
>>
Speak in private, affirm faith yet concern, offer to buy them a drink
>>
File: Field Medic Oann.png (474 KB, 500x728)
474 KB
474 KB PNG
>>4675304
>>4675306
>>4675352
>>4675356
>>4675401
>>4675422
>>4675432
>>4675512
>>4675610
>>4675620
>>4675935
>>4676765

Glancing at the wayward clones, you discretely mutter, “Has Master Kosa…?”

Skipp shakes his head. “Not since Mercantor brought her aboard the Globus. Whenever she isn’t stewing in that jury-rigged bacta tank Evo and Trykov put together, the general’s been laid up in ordinary. Oann’s the only one with any real contact with her since he’s overseeing her recovery.”

That makes enough sense. “But in the brief moment when you saw her, you didn’t speak about anything?”

The corner of his mouth tweaks upward in an amused grin. “We weren’t exactly in the best time to speak when the shuttle reached the Globus. But Scrapper Squad and General Kosa had a brief moment to go ‘oh, thank the Force you survived’. No more than a minute of relief and gushy emotions before we had to prep for the jump to hyperspace.”

It’s hard not to cringe as you think about Kosa. Not that you’d done anything wrong, per se. Although, perhaps it seems like a faux pas to visit Arotta, and not her master.

“She’s doing alright?”

The clone shrugs, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling of the hangar. “So far as I can tell. Oann is always grumbling that she’s trying to speed-run her treatment.”

“Because if she overeats,” the medic calls, shouting from his position with Cooper, “She’ll develop fluid and electrolyte imbalance, hypophosphatemia, along with an entire basketcase worth of health complications. All at once!”

You blink, surprised at the vehemence in the clone’s voice. “It was that bad…?”

Oann grimaces, spitting venomously, “You saw what that plant bastard did to her. The general was little more than skin and bones, and drained of nearly half of her blood. It was nothing short of a miracle that the medical wards were well-stocked, even if we didn’t have surplus twilek blood on standby.”

“Nothing but human or nemodian,” clarifies Skipp, “But a borderline smorgasbord of supplies. Nowhere near Republic or cloner standards, of course, but still very well-kept.”

“Not like the organic crew of this bloody ghost vessel was going to use it.”

Of that, you have no doubt. The crew of the Globus that weren’t droids or the Mercantors had fallen sway underneath Jombaral, either fleeing into the forest or “decimated” at Octavia’s hand.

But you shake your head, clearing your throat before you address Skipp. “Can you gather your men? I don’t want to have you deliver it after the fact when we’re all here now.”

The commander nods. “Of course.”

Skipp whistles sharply. At once, all of the clones stop what they’re doing, and immediately move to fall in line. Cooper, understandably, needs more time and aid, leaning against Oann’s side to stand at attention. Uneasy at forcing him to stand, you gesture for the ordinance specialist to sit.

(cont.)
>>
I forgot just how bad Kosa's condition was.
>>
>>4677153
It was practically a blessing that we didn't waste any time going planetside.
>>
File: Blaze Trooper Armor.jpg (29 KB, 333x536)
29 KB
29 KB JPG
>>4677060
“With respect, sir,” he grunts, hissing as the prosthetic strapped to the stump of his knee shifts awkwardly, “…this is just some extra training. And I won’t have my brothers standing on ceremony while I sit myself down.”

Oann nods briefly when you give him a questioning look. Very well, if he’s that certain, and the medic’s okay with it, then who are you to question him?

With that out of the way, you’re ready to begin. You breathe, in and out, and intone, “There aren’t any words that I can use to thank you for what you’ve done. Getting to this point here and now wouldn’t have been possible with your help. The Battle of Nest’s End, the evacuation and exodus off Kakarit…”

Pausing to scratch the back of your neck in sheepish embarrassment, you continue, “Much like Master Kosa, I’m not much for flowery speeches. Words, but not long-winded tirades that you’d hear in the senate.”

That rouses a series of humorless chuckles from the assembled clones. Even the rookie, the freshest one out of the cloners’ tanks, smiles slightly. A verifiable win in your book, if Roppock was able to dislodge the stick up his ass, if only slightly.

Recalling that it is best to preface stern omens with humor, you slowly shift the tone of your voice. “That being said, there’s a matter of future proofing that needs to be discussed. The snafu that was the Exodus didn’t give us much time to talk, but we need to discuss what happened towards the end of the Battle of Nest’s End.”

There isn’t a single man among them that otherwise doesn’t tense or grimace visibly. Even their commanding officer shifts uncomfortably from one sole to another.

“…there isn’t any way for me to say this,” you state neutrally, glancing to where Skipp stands adjacent to you, “But I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I have nothing short of the highest regard for your abilities, and faith in the integrity of your character. That being said, it would be…remiss of me to otherwise presume that such a thing won’t happen in the future.”

No one speaks at first. Maybe its their training or discipline, but they continue to look straight ahead, even if the tension is thick enough to cut a knife. Tension that is somewhat mollified by the fact that you aren’t immediately throwing them to the curb or otherwise pointing fingers.

Roppock is the first to break the silence, coughing, “It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Yeah, what he said,” rumbles Stye, tilting his head to pop the joints in his neck.

Oann shakes his head, grousing, “I fear that it won’t be that easy to assure him.”

“Even if it was, we still needed to discuss it at one point or another,” Skipp dryly notes.

(cont.)
>>
Cooper, Evo and Trykov are noticeably quiet. While they share concerns about being mind controlled, they hadn’t been with you atop the Harvester. Cooper was being medivac’d, Evo was in the calvary with Prince Troxl’s host, and Trykov had been manning a turret in the Albatross. The four that spoke up were the ones with you, and the only clones affected by the Herald’s domination.

But all of them look equally downcast. The fact that Skipp had promised you that he’d ignore the order if he’d ever gotten it again. Of course, that was only when said order was being delivered via holocomm with then-Supreme Chancellor Palpatine. Not by some Force abomination that violated their minds.

This, you make perfectly clear. “I get that the circumstances were…unusual, to say the least. That much, we all can agree on. I’m not blaming anybody. I just wanted to point out that there’s the chance of possibility, and discuss…preventive measures.”

“Define, ‘preventive measures’, sir,” queries Roppock, even as the rest of Scrapper Squad tense nervously.

Honestly? You have no idea where to begin to base your measures off of. Even if you knew the pop culture definition of cloning, whatever the Kaminoans did is an entirely different ball game. And these aren’t matters of simply cloning an extinct species back to life, or cloning organs to be prepared for donation.

War had been the sole purpose of the Clone Army. War was their reason for existence. And to that effect, their combat record across three years of war spoke plenty for their abilities. What it also speaks for, however, is the alleged “superiority” of their donor, Jango Fett…as well as the methodology in how the Kaminoans raised and trained them.

Oann pinches the bridge of his nose as you ask. “Clones aren’t bred to be loyal to the Jedi, sir. Our loyalty’s to the Republic. The cloners made sure to indoctrinate that into us, even as fetuses.”

And to the Supreme Chancellor, the hidden Sith mastermind behind the downfall of the Jedi, something within you murmurs. But you quash that line of thought before it goes to a dark place.

What Skipp said makes enough sense. That might explain Torok and Aure’s stories – clones that they’d fought and bled with over several campaigns showed no hesitation in turning on their Jedi commanders. By that logic, the next question to come up is the matter of compulsion.

…good soldiers follow orders,” Trykov replies hesitantly. “That’s what we were taught, day in and day out. Obey your superiors, whether it was the cloners, a brother of superior rank, a Jedi commander, or the representatives of the Republic.”

Skipp coughs, drawing everyone’s attention. “As is the case for many among the rank and file. But there were some batches that didn’t get that much indoctrination. Beyond test and control groups, the cloners bred some early batches to be more independent.”

(cont.)
>>
Its way sadder if there is no chip, gives more agency to the clones and their betrayal
>>
File: Alpha-class ARC Troopers.jpg (4.8 MB, 1791x3056)
4.8 MB
4.8 MB JPG
>>4677188
Now that comes as a surprise. Both Jedi and Scrapper Squad are visibly surprised at the ARC-Trooper’s words.

“Sir?” no less than three of the clones question, some with genuine confusion, some with apprehensive caution.

>>For putting your faith in the Clones, Skipp has decided to put his trust in you.
>>You have gained influence with Skipp & Scrapper Squad.

The commander shakes his head, a tired smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “The Jedi’s put his faith in us. Honor demands that we reciprocate in kind.”

Honor?

Skipp’s heels click as he turns about face, raising his arm in a formal salute towards you. “Sir. Alpha-34, callsign ‘Skipp’, reporting for duty.”

You go very, very still. “…Alpha? But when I spoke to…to Marks, he said you were just early batch?”

Even as a pained expression creases his features, he nods. “Yes, sir. I’m early batch, but I didn’t tell you how early I was back when we first met in Nest’s End. I promised I’d tell you more about it when we got off the planet, so…figure now’s as good a time as any.

“I’m Alpha Class,” he says, thumping his chest, “One of a hundred from the second batch of clones the Kaminoans created ten years prior to the start of the war. They not only bred us to be more independent, but had Jango Fett himself personally oversee our training.”

That’s…! Well, even with what little you know about the culture of the clones, that’s certainly impressive. Even if his mentor had met a comparatively ignoble end at the hands of Master Windu, Skipp seems to have not only risen to his mentor’s skills, but surpassed them with the events on Kakarit.

You pause, thinking on what the commander had said. Alpha class was the second batch of clones created, not the first in spite of its name. What did that leave the first batch of clones? Failures? Prototypes? Questions that you’d file away for another date and time.

But even as you try to process what you’ve heard, Scrapper Squad has mixed reactions, better than bad, and more cautious than malignant. Roppock looks like he’s met the closest thing to Mandalore, even as Evo and Trykov’s jaws visibly drop. Stye merely shakes his head, and Cooper’s expression is one of bemusement.

“Next time, sir, pull the rug from our brother’s feet when there’s a rug beneath them,” Oann drawls in a sardonic tone.

Skipp rolls his eyes at that, before turning back to you. “I’m not trying to flaunt my pedigree. It’s relevant to the discussion at hand.”

“How so?” you ask, perplexed.

“I’ve got some level of obedience indoctrination, I won’t deny that,” he admits, “I’ll follow orders like any good soldier, and we all got the same one hundred fifty Contingency Orders. But Fett taught us to think for ourselves, to question orders if the one issuing them was either incompetent or lacking enough strategy.”

(cont.)
>>
>>4677446
>What did that leave the first batch of clones? Failures? Prototypes? Questions that you’d file away for another date and time.
Kaz, you Null-class tease.
>>
>>4677446
You have a rough idea of where he’s going with this. "Even before I told you about the truth behind Order 66?”

He shakes his head. “I might just be speaking for myself, but I know General Kosa and Arotta. They aren’t paragons of sainthood or master tacticians, but they’re good people. And the last I’d ever suspect of participating in any sort of treason.”

In spite of the situation, you smile inwardly. You might not know Master Kosa, but you sure as hell know Arotta. And your erstwhile lover certainly fits the bill of what their commander had described.

“Order 66 doesn’t make any sense. All of the Jedi, even the younglings in their cribs, in on some sort of conspiracy theory against the republic? Mace Windu, maybe. But not most of the Jedi I’ve come across. Even the ones that cracked and went renegade were little more than lone wolves.”

Maybe there’s just a little bit of resentment towards Master Windu regarding the death of Skipp’s mentor. Not that you’re eager to chastise him. Master Larid had never gotten along with Windu. Your dislike is secondhand, mostly stemming from how distraught Skywalker had been when the Council turned their backs on his apprentice.

Skipp continues, “It didn’t make any sense when you spoke to me in Nest's End. And it sure as hell didn’t make any sense when the plant hut’uun tried to get me to kill you in the middle of a war that certainly had the Republic’s interests in mind, even if it had now been the Empire.”

“So why…?” you simply ask.

He hesitates, pursing his lips as he struggles to arrange his thoughts into coherent speech. The rest of the clones shift uneasily as their commander reaches for the right words. More so for the other three that had fallen sway underneath the Herald’s influence.

“…when it touched us,” he eventually begins, shivering in spite of the climate-controlled environment, “…I felt as if I’d just gotten out of the incubation tank for the very first time. Everything was blank. I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know who I was. I was helpless, vulnerable…and needed commands. All I knew was that good soldiers follow orders, the 66th Contingency had been activated, a Jedi was a handful of meters away, and the black-robbed bastard its voice was coming out of was the ultimate form of authority.”

The Herald preyed on their indoctrination. Manipulating people with the Force is the second-most iconic power to a Jedi, just right behind pulling and pushing objects.

His tone is uncharacteristically desperate, and his eyes a hopeless plea as he tries to convince you of his perspective. “…I’ve fought against Dark Jedi. They reached into your mind to twist your thoughts, sifting through them to make you doubt what you perceive. Those kinds of people, you could resist their mind games.”

“But not with the Herald,” you finish grimly.

(cont.)
>>
>>4677503
“No, sir,” he confirms, shivering. “Not with that…that thing. I don’t know how you were able to fight against it. It took away everything from me: my memories, my personality, my independence, my training...it stripped me to nothing beyond the orders the cloners installed within me.”

He’s telling the truth. That much you can see. Morbidly, you certainly saw that for yourself. When the Order had been given, everyone’s shots had been far less accurate, less precise, more desperate to hit and undisciplined in coordination.

“And for the rest of your brothers,” you eventually reply, glancing warily towards the rest of Scrapper Squad. They immediately go ramrod straight at your attention. “…they don’t have the same independence as you.”

“It made the Herald’s job easier,” Skipp hurriedly answers. “But they aren’t at fault. It’s how they were born and bred! If you want someone to blame beyond that abomination, then look no further than the cloners. They made it so easy for the False Mother to corrupt Major Marks and damn near almost all of the men underneath my command.”

He has a point, even if you suspect that he’s using the death of the Acting-Commander. But it is the truth. Only a heartless bastard could walk away from Kakarit and think that the clones were anything but victims. Even if that same sympathy doesn’t extend towards the other clones that might’ve had an easier time throwing away their relationships with their Jedi.

What a mess. And one that doesn’t have an easy, immediate solution.

“So…” Cooper pipes up hesitantly, glancing nervously around the room, “…sir, what is it that we’re supposed to do now? How do we prevent from what that monster did to our brothers…?”

"You'd have better luck asking the cloners to go and de-program us," rumbles Stye.

"We wouldn't get within a handful of parsecs of Kamino before they shoot us out of the sky," Evo complains.

Skipp frowns as discipline breaks, and Scrapper Squad voices their own thoughts in an disorder cacophony. Clicking his boots together, he shouts, "At attention!"

They all go quiet and turn to you.

"The Jedi needs to make a decision."

"I'm not your general," you point out.

"General Kosa's still recovering, and you're the senior-most officer here," counters Oann.

"That's gonna change when Master Larid arrives."

"He didn't command us at Nest's End," Skipp replies stiffly, "You took over General Kosa and Commander Bashur when they were both...indisposed. And nothing's changed, even if they're alive; they aren't fit to give orders. Like it or not, you're the Acting-Commander of Scrapper Squad, sir."

>>How will you respond?
>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
>Keep the Clones at arm’s length while maintaining good relations until a cure is found. [Distance]
>Custom option. [Write-in]

[VOTE OPEN FOR FOUR HOURS]
>>
>>4677531
>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
>>
>>4677531
>>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
>>Custom option. [Write-in]
We should try and reinforce the Clones' independence and ability to resist mind control. maybe Skipp can teach the others some of the stuff Jango taught him on how to do it.
>>
>>4677531
>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
Maybe look at reinforcing the training they received from Jango and see if Mando training might help them with counteracting their indoctrination.
>>
>>4677531
>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
Do however come up with some protocols for if we suspect we're coming up against a mind manipulating enemy. I trust the clones when they're themselves but as the past shows there's a rather disturbing weakness in them
>>
>>4677531
>>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
Making some protocols and increasing their independence sounds like a good plan
>>
>>4677531
>>Keep the Clones at arm’s length while maintaining good relations until a cure is found. [Distance]
if we are really unlucky they will kill all our younglings. i like the clones, but it is not worth it to keep them in the loop at the moment. maybe if one of the senior jedis have maxed out some mind powers. until then they are on snooze for me.
>>
>>4677531
>>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
>>
>>4677531
>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]

Long as no one mentions the You Know What number we're fine
>>
>>4677531
>>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]
Seconding the reinforcing independence and Skipp passing on his training. Let them make armor and weapon modifications and use gear that the GAR would've frowned upon. No rules now, they have free reign to do whatever they think'll give them the edge fighting the Empire.
>>
>>4677531
>>Insist that the Herald was an extremely unique case, and that nothing’s changed anything. [Maintain]

>write in

Offer to buy them all drink
>>
>>4677531
>>Keep the Clones at arm’s length while maintaining good relations until a cure is found. [Distance]
I really like scrapper squad, but keeping them close can go so wrong and i frankly dont see the benefit of keeping them as close, except for enjoying their company more i guess
>>
Seconding maintaining, having Skipp pass on training, customizing gear, and buying a drink.

Also, let's try training them to resist our mental influence in the Force.
>>
>>4677531
Kinda feels like we've got 2 routes: Being more thorough in creating distinct personalities for each clone, or having Skipp act as a more direct superior and moral lifeline as a sort of death pact.
>Unless any of the orders affects the Mylar Alliance, nothing should change about their stay around here. [Maintain]
>But thinking about what they're going to do with their lives is a lot more urgent now. Do they even still want to fight as soldiers?
>>
>>4677578
Support the personalization idea, the less they feel like a cog and the more they feel like an individual the better.
>>
>>4677534
>>4677535
>>4677546
>>4677554
>>4677567
>>4677568
>>4677569
>>4677572
>>4677578
>>4677579
>>4677749
>>4677813
>>4677925

“The Herald was an extremely unique case,” you insist, “And while we aren’t in the Empire anymore, let alone mapped space, I don’t see any reason for anything to change.”

Skipp hides his relief better than his squad. They all visibly sag, sporting grins and smiles as you affirm your faith in them. True enough, the Herald was an anomaly, but there is still a non-zero chance that the clones might just be susceptible to mind control, given a powerful Force user among any future enemy. But that isn’t about to make you cast them to the wayside like defective battle droids.

You’re better than that, dammit. Even if some might accuse you of being sentimental.

Clearing your throat, you turn to Skipp and say, “We can take some time to figure out some protocols, maybe figure out how to increase their independence?”

He mulls on that, rubbing the bottom of his chin. “…doable, but it won’t be an overnight thing.”

“Of course not. Just merely suggesting or otherwise offering advice.” You pause, considering something that he’d said before you query, “Could you teach them what Jango Fett taught you?”

Skipp comes to a halt. He looks at you, then back to his men, and takes even longer to mull over that. It takes a few moments, but he eventually answers, “I’m not Jango Fett.”

“Of course.”

“…I’ll see what I can do.”

Nodding, you prepare to dismiss the clones to go about their business, but a sudden thought occurs. This time, you address all of them, and ask, “Do you still want to be soldiers?”

They blink, surprised as if you’d asked such a simple question. Then, they frown because they legitimately hadn’t thought about the possibility of “retiring”.

You shake your head, holding your hand up. “Sorry if I just sprung it out of the blue. Just an option I think you all deserve to at least consider.”

Scrapper Squad shares a collective glance, exchanging looks and hand signs in silent communication. Then as one, they turn back to attention, and Skipp answers for them: “We’ll take it under advisory, sir. But for the time being, even if the Republic’s gone, we’ll still fight for its ideals. These Tof we’ve been briefed on seem exactly the kind of scum we’d have no compunction fighting against.”

Their enthusiasm is certainly infectious, even as Cooper cracks a remark about having to be “wheeled into battle”. They’d certainly be an asset to the Mylar Star Alliance. Willing to serve as well of their own volition. But it wouldn’t be wise to send them in just yet. For one, you’d have to let Keimann know about the “reinforcements” you’d be sending his way. And the other…

“CLONES?! You compound your crimes by collaborating with traitors! You damn yourself and your family with your testimony, woman!”

(cont.)
>>
…Master Aure and Torok might still have some (justified) reservations.

Exhaling, you nod towards Skipp, and he dismisses his troops. As Scrapper Squad returns to their own business, you pull the commander aside to a nearby sitting area. Which isn’t much beyond crates repurposed as chairs and a table, but still better than just standing.

“My master won’t be back for a few hours,” you explain as you take a seat. “Maybe we could spend some time going over how we’ll proceed?”

Skipp smiles. “I don't mind.”

Nodding in affirmation, you reach for your communicator, adding, “I hope you don’t mind my summoning some refreshments. It’s been a heavy discussion, and I don’t think you’ve all gotten proper shore leave.”

“No, we haven’t,” he confirms wryly, motioning for you to continue. “By all means, fresh supplies are always welcome.”

“These aren’t supplies,” you say, only slightly feigning your exasperation. “Commander, they’re a reward intended to boost morale.”

Skipp nods, and the utter seriousness in his voice does absolutely nothing to prepare you for the contrast in his answer. “I don’t suppose dancing girls are part and parcel with the effort to boost morale?”

If you’d been sipping on a drink, you might’ve choked or spat it out. You stare at the commander, absolutely agog as he maintains his disaffected demeanor. And just as quickly, he suggests, “The first thing that Jango Fett taught us was the value of independence, but not to the point of being an obstinate lone wolf. Which was a bit of an inside joke, considering his track record…”

>>The two of you share ideas, and discuss possible ways to increase the independence of Scrapper Squad.
>>You have gained influence with Skipp & Scrapper Squad.

>>The Clones of Scrapper Squad:
>Commander Skipp, an Alpha-class ARC Trooper personally trained by Jango Fett.
>Oann, a seasoned, no-nonsense field medic just as likely to hurt someone if they don’t follow his orders.
>Cooper, an ordinance specialist with a “hearts and minds” mentality. Lost his right arm and leg in the Battle of Nest’s End.
>Stye, a blaze trooper with somewhat of a flat affect personality, but cuts absolutely loose during shore leave.
>Evo, an AT-RT scout trooper. Pulls more than his weight in his endeavors, even if he gripes and moans.
>Trykov, a logistics officer with a mind for mechanics. Borderline neurotic with logistics and organization.
>Roppock, an infantry trooper fresh out of the tanks, and a stick up his ass that Kakarit’s only slightly dislodged.

>>Later…

As the Bantha makes its final checks for landing, you notice more than a handful of blast marks that score the underside of the hell. Not quite nearly enough to penetrate through the armor, but bad enough to necessitate replacing some of the warped paneling. The Jedi Sojourner’s gonna be out of commission for at least a handful of days to get everything fixed.

(cont.)
>>
File: Larid_01.jpg (675 KB, 2894x4093)
675 KB
675 KB JPG
A sudden chill runs up and down the length of your spine as the ramp hits the dust of the private dock. Out steps Master Larid, looking as if he’d aged a full decade in the few days he’d been gone. His black robes, the iconic dress of a Jedi Shadow, are an immaculate contrast to the rest of his disheveled appearance.

“Master,” you politely acknowledge.

He grunts, stepping heavily onto the ground. “Farren.”

The two of you maintain a comfortable, familiar silence. Then, he breaks it, dragging his hand down the expanse of his face. “…those children are going to be the death of me.”

“…I hope you didn’t scare them too much,” you say.

"Hah…” He shakes his head. “How awful of you, to not worry about your master’s wellbeing, but instead focus on the brat pack that caused grave peril to his wellbeing in the first place.”

More people descend from the ramp. Sha Koon isn’t hard to miss, both on account of her species’ iconic oxygen breathers and goggles. Right behind her are the twelve younglings in question, huddled together and hesitant to step off the ship. Some of them wave to you, the younger ones who don’t know any better.

But a handful of the older ones aren’t able to meet your eyes, either too mortified or embarrassed at having been dragged back to Serano Spaceport like recalcitrant children. The more outspoken and brash, you privately observe, seem to be the most downcast or otherwise pensive.

You’re torn between comeuppance in them getting a slice of humble pie, and sympathy for whatever they saw on the Chiller. Suzel’s reports from his mother had been getting increasingly bloody as the M.S.D.F. gained more ground against the Tof Remnant. It would only be a matter of weeks, maybe even days before they reached the main settlement, and General Durgash the Jolly. That was when the worst of the fighting would start.

“…sonic showers,” orders Larid with perhaps the most severe tone you’d ever heard him muster. “Now.”

They don’t argue. Koon herds them towards the prefab shelters, bidding you and your master a shallow nod. As you watch them disappear, you fall beside your master. “…I could’ve sworn that you had at least two more people with you.”

He exhales through his nostrils, breathing heavily as he answers, “Noirah took a bad hit, but it’s nothing she won’t recover from. Slug through her shoulder, damn near shattered her collarbone on its way out.”

You wince at the image that conjures up. “Ouch.”

“You should see the other guy. Although you’re gonna need an excavator to get him out from under the tunnel I brought down on his head.” Larid takes a moment to reach for the pipe in his robes, igniting the tobacco and taking a long, deep drag. “Riven, the new hire, is keeping an eye on her. Figured that she’d need a friendly face to wake up to that wasn’t Doc.”

(cont.)
>>
Ain’t that the truth. The medical droid had always been skilled in many things, but its bedside manner had much to be desired. Although considering the rumors about droids imprinting on their owners after years of service…perhaps its more indicative of your master’s behavior rather than some faulty programming.

“…come to think of it,” you suddenly interject, “I don’t think you ever told me how you managed to find Noirah, or take Riven on as your new engineer before you ran off to the Chiller.”

Larid’s eyes glitter with amusement. “Long story short? Tracked her to a run-down slum, scared the hell out of her, and convinced her that I was the bonafide real deal. And that unlike that bastard of a former friend, I wasn’t about to leave her by herself on Coruscant with only five thousand fucking credits to her name.

“As for the kid…” He rubs the length of his jaw as his lips curl into a smirk. “It took some convincing to let the gang that owned him to let him go. Wasn’t easy, but we all walked away satisfied with the deal we struck.”

“And that deal was…?” you inquire.

“Paid off his contract. When they realized that I was rich, they tried to extort more out of me, even had the idiocy to pull blasters and try to frisk me.” He shakes his head, almost pityingly as he blows out another stream of smoke. “The folly of youth is truly something else…at least they very much lived to their motto of ‘dying fast and young.’”

…ignoring the glibness at his casual mention of killing, you pinch the bridge of your nose as you feel a migraine coming. “I thought you said everyone walked away satisfied with what happened?”

“Everyone who was capable of walking had walked away satisfied,” he amends. “I got my money back, and the boy got his freedom…I didn’t break a sweat, let alone have to take out my lightsaber. No survivors, and most importantly, no witnesses. The gang next door is about to have a field day with their main competition out of the picture.”

Sounds about right. “And Riven’s disposition of the Jedi…?”

“A mixture of apathy and gratitude. He’s out here in the ass-end of the galaxy, having the life of adventure he always wanted. And the freedom as well, can’t forget about that. Had to dye his hair to get him off-world, but he isn't complaining.

“But the Coruscant underworld aside,” he concludes, dumping the ashes of his tobacco out of his pipe, “There’s been a few developments with the younglings. The Force was merciful enough to keep them alive, but the brats that were eligible got a brief taste of combat.”

You still, turning to look up at Larid with visible concern. “They’re not hurt, are they?”

“No. But I figure it’d be good for you to speak with them. Whatever preconceptions or decisions you might’ve taken, it’s best to listen to the brats share their stories with what happened on the Chiller.”

(cont.)
>>
File: Younglings_03.jpg (401 KB, 1600x1320)
401 KB
401 KB JPG
From the way he words it, it honestly sounds as if something traumatizing had happened! But there hadn’t been anything you could feel that indicated something so…dramatic.

“Is this some kind of test, master?” you ask. “Are you trying to push a certain youngling to be my padawan?”

Larid barks a sardonic laugh. “Force, no! It’s your choice. Back in the day, you’d might’ve been eligible to simply not take a padawan, but I don’t think I need to explain why we don’t have that luxury anymore.”

He doesn’t. “So how’s this going to work?”

“You go wait in the Albatross. I’ll let you know when the brats are done, and I’ll send them to you.”

Even as you nod, you raise a curious eyebrow. “…what about you? Aren’t you going to pick a new padawan?”

“Only when you’re finished,” he replies. “As is the tradition. Why, do you still want to be mine?”

>>The Seven Youngling Padawan Candidates:
>Luaine Nataini, Human female. (14)
-- Hot-tempered and competitive, fiercely protective of her friends. Secretively insecure and constantly second-guessing herself, her worst nightmare was being sent to the Service Corps prior to Order 66.

>Joz Kalgar, Mon Calamri male (13).
-- Cautious and methodical, slow to anger and quick to befriend. A calming presence for the group and model student, albeit somewhat alienated by peers due to this maturity.

>Parn Telate, Human male. (13).
-- Proactive and full of vigor, a young boy full of drive and energy. Inconsiderate at times, and somewhat reckless when it comes to personal safety, but ultimately means well with a big heart.

>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female (13).
-- Quiet and withdrawn, soft-spoken and keenly in-tune with the Force. Dislikes being treated with pity because of her "blindness", and takes every opportunity to prove herself otherwise.

>Ritho Gad, Nautolan female (13).
-- Fretful and moody, still recovering from the abrupt life change and fearful of the unknown future. A reluctant heroine with hidden courage and talent for organization.

>Vuqu Dahae, Mirialan female (12).
-- Inquisitive and blunt, sporting an unexpected talent for droids and machinery. Not exactly the most socially aware and prone to accidentally offending, but offers unique insights with a utilitarian worldview.

>Nujem Clavis, Kalleran male (11).
-- Optimistic and eager, quick to please and thrives on conflict. A diabolical(?) mastermind with a talent for mischief, approaching the crisis no differently than one might a puzzle.

(cont.)
>>
File: Younglings_01.png (832 KB, 1280x913)
832 KB
832 KB PNG
>>Other Younglings
>Ceana, Selphi female (8).
-- Enigmatic and introspective, but is not so cold as to be a friendless entity. Inspired by the late Master Fay, she envisions herself using only the Force and her bare hands over lightsabers.

>Fusan Al-Jhenat, Arconan male (7).
-- Innocent and full of wonder, he considers the trials ahead to be the great adventure of his lifetime. The only sadness he feels is missing the warmth of the Jedi Temple and its inhabitants.

>Zabrys Tel, Togruta male (6)
-- Shy and somewhat hesitant to speak, though not for a lack of vocabulary; he doesn't believe in wasting words when nods or hand signals might convey things faster and more efficiently.

>Prisma Edelhav, Human female (6).
-- A lover of history and aspirant peacekeeper, she aspires to be like the heroic Jedi she reads about, particularly of one she learned from an unknown source: Revan.

>Ruksali, Twi'lek male (5).
-- An empathic soul who sees the good in all things, desiring to become a healer after being inspired by the Jedi who saved his life.

>>Please select a set of younglings to interview first:
>Joz Kalgar and Nujem Clavis. [How they crash-landed on the Chiller and survived a kill-team sent to the crash site.]
>Parn Telate and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
>Luaine Natani, Ceyla Vikol and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to infiltrate a Tof outpost and fight their way to a comms array.]

[VOTE OPEN FOR EIGHT HOURS]
>>
>>4678482
>Joz Kalgar and Nujem Clavis. [How they crash-landed on the Chiller and survived a kill-team sent to the crash site.]
Let's start with the ones who kicked off this whole kerfuffle in the first place.
>>
>>4678482
>>Joz Kalgar and Nujem Clavis. [How they crash-landed on the Chiller and survived a kill-team sent to the crash site.]
>>
>>4678482
>>Joz Kalgar and Nujem Clavis. [How they crash-landed on the Chiller and survived a kill-team sent to the crash site.]
Let's get to workin' our way down.
>>
>>4678486
So, are these interviews going to be like the Youngling intermissions in the previous thread, or is it just them telling us what happened?
>>
>>4678501
There’s gonna be interview segments that take place in the present spliced in between “interlude” bits that take place in the past. Closest comparison I can think off the top of my head is the opening of “Batman Begins” where the film cuts between Bruce’s training with the League of Shadows, and the events of his life that led up to that moment. Not nearly as drastic and long-stretched in years, mind you, but just the closest comparison I can think of that interweaves past and present. Or like “Man of Steel” where it does the same thing of intercutting the present with Clark’s childhood...huh.

Thank you Zack Snyder, very cool.

But, I digress. Figure that way there’s gonna be some level of interactivity where you can write in questions to ask the younglings at your discretion. Altering between tenses and perspective is gonna be a pain, but I figure it’ll get the interview process faster than just writing a traditional intermission. And if not, I can at least test this method at the very least.
>>
>>4678482
>Luaine Natani, Ceyla Vikol and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to infiltrate a Tof outpost and fight their way to a comms array.]
>>
>>4678482
>>Parn Telate and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
>>
>>4678482
I'm gonna be that asshole that's already chosen who we take.
>Joz Kalgar and Ceyla Vikol
Yeah that's right. We're fucking taking TWO padawans. Reasoning is we do not have time to fuck around like before where a master can slowly shape and mold a padawan. We will still do that but it's gonna happen faster than it did. AND there are not enough higher rank jedi to teach them on a one to one basis. If we take these two, the mature and cautious Joz and the quiet and in tune Miraluka as padawans, that would leave the others who really need a far more seasoned teacher for the actual masters.

TL;DR
We take the two most stable and oldest padawans Joz and Ceyla and train them.

Fuck if this has a chance of happening we will need baller dice rolls and one hell of a write in.
>>
>>4678482
>Joz Kalgar and Nujem Clavis. [How they crash-landed on the Chiller and survived a kill-team sent to the crash site.]


>>4678690
I dont think it is wise AT ALL for us to take the most stable padawans, because we are the most stable knight. Arotta and tigerfriend whos name i forgot are not as mentally stable right now, whether because of ptsd or dark side shenanigans. They need a stable padawan.
Its easy to forget that often a teacher learns from their students, even if it is in a different way.
>>
>>4678482
>Parn Telate and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
Literally the only responsible ones, I don't know why anyone would choose the guys who thought up the incredibly irresponsible plan with no exit strategy
>>
>>4678709
Actually, shit you know what, having read it, I'm gonna change my vote from >>4678719 to >>4678709

If we're going to take a padawan we need to hone the crazy ones into crazy ones with backup backup plans.
>>
Anyone else think we need to practice our Niman? We've been reliant on Makashi pretty much this whole time which is gonna put us at a severe disadvantage against Form V/Strong style users and non-melee enemies. A fight with Vader or Vader-trained combatants, should such an undesirable thing occur, will end with our severe injury or death as Vader is not only a Djem So master, but the man who killed the man who's style of Makashi we appropriated. I think we need another trick and Niman, with its emphasis on adaptability and two-weapon fighting, can very well be that trick. Jedi like Exar Kun, who never lost a duel and Kao Cen Darach, who was once Battlemaster, and Sith like Maul were masters of Form VI and incredibly lethal. It's also a stepping stone to Jar Kai, should we want to learn that as well.
>>
>>4678974
Bruh we need to practice fucking PERIOD. We've been stuck in space nam for the better part of 2 threads with no saber-wielding or blaster-firing enemies to speak of, we are out of friggin practice.
>>
>>4678975
We dueled two people on Kakarit, did we not? The Herald and the Accuser, if memory serves. As for blasters, maybe we should have gone to the Chiller to get back into the swing of things.
>>
>>4678482
>Luaine Natani, Ceyla Vikol and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to infiltrate a Tof outpost and fight their way to a comms array.]
>>
>>4678482
Kaz, did you mean to put Vuqu up twice and Ritho not at all? It seems to me like Ritho should be talked to with Parn.
>>
File: embarassed.jpg (119 KB, 1280x720)
119 KB
119 KB JPG
>>4679282
Ack, that's my bad. I meant to put Ritho with Parn. That's what it's supposed to be.
>>
File: Nujem Clavis.png (278 KB, 500x608)
278 KB
278 KB PNG
>>4678486
>>4678491
>>4678494
>>4678709

“Hey, Farren…I, erm…I hope you still aren’t too sore about the bucket of water back on Nazira?”

“…are we supposed to call you ‘Master Gaelle’ now? Or ‘Master Farren’, now that you’re a Jedi Knight?”

The first to enter the Albatross are Nujem and Joz. The pair shrink away at the flat glare, the one full of disappointment that they were the catalyst for the entire mess. But you can’t stay angry at them for long, much as you’d like to. You’re here to interview them, not scold them.

Besides, from the way they had acted once they got off the ship, Master Larid must have already taken care of it. Back on Nariza, in the Jedi Outpost you’d been assigned to prior to the war’s end, there was much in the way your master would let them get away with. Not so much now.

“…a swim in the Supreme Archon’s pool…” You shake your head as you look up from the report. The aquatic aliens shift uncomfortably as you set down the datapad. “Really?”

Nujem nods his head hesitantly, but Joz answers, “Admittedly, I’m to blame as well. While not a necessity for my kind, it is…uncomfortable to go without complete submersion for a time. I was weak and fell to temptation.”

“You do realize that you could’ve asked Master Aure.”

“We…” the Kalleran pipes up, “…we didn’t want to distract her from her duties on the Chiller…”

A bit late for that now, you think dryly to yourself. But you make no further issue of it. B-33 approaches the table, bearing a tray with glasses of water and a large pitcher. The younglings jump at the sight of the suptac, almost going for their lightsabers on instinct before you gesture for them to sit down.

“He’s a friend,” you say firmly, taking the offered glass. “Thanks, B-33. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

“This unit is pleased to serve,” the droid answers, shuffling out of the mess hall and towards the rear of the ship. There are some minor repairs that needed addressing, and you figure it wouldn’t hurt for it to get familiar with the Albatross’ subsystems.

“Drink up,” you tell the startled younglings. “There’s plenty of water on my ship.”

They do so, gulping the water almost too quickly for you keep track. By the time they’re ready to begin speaking, they’ve already gone through half of the pitcher’s contents.

“Start from the beginning,” you order them, firmly but not in a demanding tone. Settling against the back of your chair, motion for them to get comfortable. “I want a complete picture of what’s happened.”

They were coming down too quickly. That much was obvious, even to Nujem’s limited perspective. Even without immediate access to the window, the stench of burning fuel and the horrible, violent impacts that rattled their heads had given the younglings knowledge that something had gone terribly wrong.

(cont.)
>>
>>4679440
>Crantz and Stern
Cute.
>>
File: Joz Kalgar.jpg (51 KB, 500x660)
51 KB
51 KB JPG
>>4679386
Suddenly, the intercom burst to life in a cacophony of sparks. From up the top of the cockpit, one of the pilots screamed, “Mayday, mayday! Anyone on this frequency, is M.S.D.F. cargo shuttle {Flying Pan}! We’ve been hit! Tof fighter’s gone and blown out our main reactor and our auxiliary is failing! Advise immediately!”

Nujem and Joz shared a simultaneous, panicked look as they realized that the situation had gone from bad to worse. What they had originally hoped to be a quick mission had quickly spiraled out of control.

The {Flying Pan} was a cargo hauler, ferrying supplies from Amagi to the Chiller. A beachhead of sorts had been established on the far side of the planet, and resources both in manpower and supplies to establish an FOB. Far beyond the range of the modified mining lasers, it should have been safe.

But then the Tof had sent what few starfighters they had, in an effort to disrupt the landing. No sooner had they entered orbit, the communications array had lit up like bonfire, screaming about incoming missiles and enemy contacts on the radar.

Most of the cargo shuttles had two fatal flaws: most were unarmored and unprotected beyond a hard seal and pressurized environment, and fresh pilots that weren’t trained in combat, or not nearly trained as long as they should have.

By some mercy of the Force, the two pilots of the {Flying Pan}, a pair of humans named Crantz and Stern, were at least skilled enough prior to their enslavement, and subsequent liberation. They fought tooth and nail to maintain control, shouting at each other, shouting for advice from the combat controller as bits and pieces of the ship broke away as they descended further through the atmosphere…


“…at that point, we realized that we couldn’t stay hidden any longer,” Joz explains, shivering in spite of the climate-controlled environment of the Albatross. “It wasn’t easy, with cargo being strewn everywhere, but we managed to reach the ladder going up to the cockpit.”

You nod. “It must’ve been an awful shock to the gentlemen to have a pair of Jedi as stowaways.”

Nujem smiles and laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, you…that sounds just about right.”

“WHERE IN THE HELL DID YOU TWO COME OUT FROM?!”

“So what happened next?”

“We broke atmo, and the ship was leaking fuel,” he recites. “Uh…we didn’t have enough to make it towards the FOB. The evasive maneuvers they pulled to not get shot took the Frying Pan off their flight path.”

Joz nods grimly. “The best they could settle for was an emergency landing, but then they realized that they’d lost their landing gear in the attack.”

Even as you wince, you debate the merits of trying to use landing gear on the slick, icy surfaces of the Chiller.

(cont.)
>>
>>4679444
Need a name for the two stooges that wasn't Tagg or Bink. Working names I had during the rough drafts varied between Crantz and Stern, a riff on Abbott and Costello, or a reference to Benny Youngman and Milton Berle.
>>
>>4679447
“Crantz!” Stern shouted. The bearded pilot struggled with something underneath his seat, eventually fishing out a backpack. A sudden jolt caused it to leap out of his hands, but Nujem caught it…and nearly buckled underneath its weight. “Grab the ‘shute, and get the kids out of here!”

“What about you, mister?!” yelled Nujem, looking and feeling even more green in the gills than normal. He swallowed the bile that had crawled up his throat, forcing it down as he helped Joz off the floor, and threw the backpack to Crantz. “Where’s your parachute!”

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he says through gritted teeth. His hands clutch the wheel in a white-knuckled grip. “The auto-pilot’s kriffed, and visibility’s shot to hell and back with the blizzard. The altimeter’s barely working, but the control wheel’s still working. I don’t want you jumping out the door and splattering yourself across a glacier, or landing in a bottomless ravine!”

“You didn’t answer the kid’s question,” Crantz snarled, even as he slung on the backpack and grabbed the Jedi younglings. “Where’s your parachute, Stern?”

The pilot rolled his eyes. “Underneath your chair. Once we find a safe spot to land, you bail with the kids. I’ll be after you.”


“We ended up ditching in the middle of no-man’s-land,” explains Joz, “Right between the Tof Remnand and the FOB, on a little ice shelf that looked thick enough to support our weight. It was the safest place we could reach with what fuel and working parts the Pan had left.”

“The parachute nearly split from how much weight it was bearing.” Nujem’s eyes lose focus, as if lost in thought from the perilous moment. “…but we made it down. Hit the ground hard enough to bruise, and sliced Crantz out of the pack before the blizzard snatched up the parachute.”

“What about Stern?” you query. “He was right behind you, wasn’t he?” The two younglings share a troubled look. Hurriedly, you add apologetically, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

Joz shakes his head. “No, no! He made it to the airlock. The problem was…”

“Stern was about to jump, but the kriffing Tof came around for another attack run,” spits out Nujem in perhaps the most venomous you’d ever heard the prankster. “Just out of spite. The shuttle exploded, and everything just came tumbling down…”

They later found him buried underneath a pile of scrap metal and twisted crates. The heat of the blast had seared half of his beard off, and left an ugly patch of red going up the side of his head. But he was still alive. A handful of kolto patches had sealed off the worst of the bleeding, but there was only so much he could do with his legs pinned beneath the debris.

“It’s not broken, but it hurts something awful!” the pilot hissed, spitting mad and more furious than fearful. “Get me out of here before I suffocate in the wreckage!”


(cont.)
>>
Crantz glanced around the crash site, looking for anything that they could have used as leverage against the pile. But before he got too far, there was a horrific noise, a sharp CRACK that started beneath their feet, and bounced off the mountain walls of the Chiller. And it was a small shift, but Joz and Nujem both felt it beneath their feet…

“The shelf’s collapsing!” they both screamed.

Crantz turned to his trapped friend, incredulous. “Is this your idea of a safe place to ditch?!”

“Screw you!” Stern’s answer was accompanied by an incredibly rude gesture. “Worked with the best I had, didn’t I?”

“Next time, I’m in charge of the ditching, you four-eyed bat!”

“Why don’t you come down here and say that to my face, shit-for-brains?!”

Utter madness engulfed the survivors as the shelf continued to shatter all around them. The ice wasn’t about to completely give way. Only where the heaviest debris of both the shuttle and the cargo had fallen. Unfortunately, this included the patch where Stern was pinned beneath.

“Take the kids and get out of here!” he screamed.

There was a noise as Crantz wrenched a sheet of metal out of the ice, hurriedly moving towards his comrade’s side. “I’m not leaving you behind!”

He jammed it into the space, just a handful of inches away from the pilot’s legs. And to the Jedi Younglings, he motioned for them to come closer. “Greenie, you’re with me. Push down when I do. Brownie, you’re with Stern. I want you to help him get his legs out once we clear enough room!”

But it wasn’t enough. They strained and groaned, wheezed and panted as they tried to lift the debris off Stern in a desperate race against time. All the while, the shelf lost more and more stability as the cracks widened.

“FUCK!” Cratnz cursed, shaking his fist at the sky as he screamed and ranted. He didn’t seem to care about the danger that was rapidly closing to their position. All he did was rage and shout, even if the objects of his hate were unable to hear him. “Fucking...green-skinned sons of bitches!”

Joz and Nujem shared a worried look, before hardening their resolve. “There’s one more thing we can try…! Misters, when we give the signal, you push and pull!”

They broke away from the debris, taking up positions behind their respective pilots. And even as the world seemed to come down around them, and the cracks in the ice continued to widen, they closed their eyes, and whisper-chanted…

“There is no emotion, there is peace…”


>>Each youngling currently has a Force Rating of 1 without any affinity, granting them a simple 1d10 to checks made to use the Force.
>>Combining their strength, Joz and Nujem can temporarily throw 2d10 in extreme emergencies at the cost of strain and fatigue.

>>Roll 2d10 Force Pull/Push.
>Best out of three.

>>4679460
Typo, the man's name was Henny Youngman. Apologies to the late comedian.
>>
Rolled 9, 4 = 13 (2d10)

>>4679508
>>
Rolled 8, 9 = 17 (2d10)

>>4679508
>>
Rolled 1, 2 = 3 (2d10)

>>4679508
>>
>>4679515
Fuck
>>
>>4679515
Hopefully that doesn't negate the 17.
>>
>>4679558
I think that would only be the case if he had rolled snake eyes.
>>
>>4679513
>>4679514
>>4679515

The crates and scrap groaned as the combined strength of the survivors pressed against them. Which was, admittedly, very little. But the Force lent the younglings a small measure of power. Not nearly as powerful as their elder peers and the masters of the order, but powerful enough to aid Crantz’s efforts in lifting the debris.

All they managed was a handful of inches, but it was more than enough for Stern to pull his feet free. Cursing and hissing, he clawed his way out of the depression, dragging what looked like a broken leg along the ice. Joz and Nujem maintained the power, but released the Force when he had reached a safe enough distance.

The scrap metal crashed back down onto the ice as Crantz hauled his copilot up off the ground, slinging his arm across his shoulder. He took a quick look at his surroundings, then pointed at something. He shouted, “The base of the mountain! Run towards the base of the mountain!”


“It was touch and go for a few moments…” Nujem laughs nervously, scratching the sides of his arms. He gulps down another glass of water, wetting his lips before he continues speaking. “…but we got off the ice with more than enough time to spare. Most of the wreckage was lost when half of the shelf collapsed, but we salvaged what we could.”

“Which wasn’t much,” admits Joz, pausing to run the numbers through his head. “But we managed to grab enough supplies from what was left. Non-perishable rations, weapons and ammunition for the pilots, medicine for Stern…if memory serves correctly, there was enough cargo to outfit at least three company’s worth of troopers.”

“We also thought about getting water…but then realized what planet we were on.”

"Not that we would've risked the chance of infection."

That made enough sense. So far, your opinion of these two troublemakers is slowly going up. But you gesture for them to continue. “What happened next?”

The kalleran sniffs, shivering at something unseen. “The blizzard was getting worse. We had to find shelter quickly or else we’d freeze to death.”

“Crantz actually found a fragment of the navicomputer on a more stable shelf of ice, along with the Flying Pan’s black box.” The Calamari takes a moment to pat Nujem’s shoulder. “They were pretty badly dinged up, but there was enough power and integrity left for him to slice into.”

You raise a cursory brow, prompting the kalleran to blush. In another time, you might make a snide remark about finally putting his hacking talent to something else that isn’t pranks or general mischief. “That couldn’t have been easy.”

“Like he said, it was…” he shrugs, “…it was a mess. The math was all over the place…”

“There’s what looks like a network of caves, bearing…” he had to squint, rubbing snow and icemelt out of the goggles protecting his eyes. “…I can’t read this. Do you guys…?”

(cont.)
>>
He brought the datapad towards Stern, bundled up and laying on a bobsled fashioned out of scrap metal and cargo pallets. His leg had been set into a splint, and he was halfway back to Amagi on a cocktail of painkillers. But the pilot had enough cognizant ability to both argue with his friend, and still able to squint and translate what Nujem had brought.

“True bearing of the caves is 218 degrees by true north…” he had to pause, coughing and spitting out a globule of phlegmy blood, “…distance is at least three clicks, give or take.”

Crantz looked up from what he was doing, arming himself to the teeth with as many weapons he could carry. Hand blasters, rifles, belts of grenades strung across his chest…the man was a veritable armory. He whistled, low and unamused. “That’s gonna be along walk in this damned blizzard. But it’s better than just staying here and waiting for those bastard Tof to come and take a look.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m here all trussed up like a Life-Day swamp turkey,” snarked his friend. “Its you lot that I’m worried about freezing to death.”

Joz and Nujem nodded. They had their Jedi survival kits, already equipping the protective goggles and shucking on heavier robes that came very close to true insulation. As both were amphibious, they needed all the warmth they could get to maintain their body temperature.

“You kids have any luck with those communicators of yours?” Crantz asked.

Joz shook his head. “Unfortunately, not. There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with them. All we’re getting is white noise.”

“Thought so. That means someone’s jamming our communications. Question is…is it one of those bastards up in the air?”

“There’s gotta be a tower or installation somewhere in the area,” drawled Stern. “Wouldn’t be too hard to reconfigure a communications array into a jamming beacon. The M.S.D.F. has everything to gain by traversing this stretch of no-man’s-land. Not so much for the Tof, when they can write the land off as a buffer zone.”

The other human nodded. “That makes too much sense. We’ll have to relay this information back to operational headquarters as soon as possible.”

“Oy. Worry about our asses first before you go save the day. In case you haven’t noticed, the temperature’s getting colder.”


The younglings don’t devote too much of their time to their trek to shelter. The ferocity of the blizzard had worked in their favor, even as it hindered their progress. The soupy mess of the sky made it borderline impossible for any Tof starfighters to overhead, allowing for a relatively unhindered journey to the caves.

Camp had been made once they retreated deep into the caves. They dressed Stern’s wounds as best they could, took a full account of their salvaged equipment, and hunkered down to wait out the storm.

But only a handful of hours after the blizzard had ended, the Tof had come to investigate the crash site.

(cont.)
>>
“We were originally gonna go and scout the terrain,” Nujem explains, “Maybe find a way out of the area, the edge of the jamming signal or a path towards the Alliance’s FOB. But that plan got blown out of the water when we saw the Tof killteam loitering around the crash site when we went to salvage more stuff.”

“How many were there?” you ask.

“Just a little over two dozen of them, crammed into two of what looked like freight haulers,” answers Joz. The calamari takes a pen, drawing a crude map of the encounter. A scribble represents the crash site, and a toothy, frowning face stands in the Tof’s place. Skirting along the edge of the paper, he draws in the symbol of the Jedi, just at the shadow of a mountain range in scribble form.

“Crantz thought it would’ve been a good idea to seize one of the vehicles,” he continues, “And hopefully extract intelligence from the transport’s computer. Unless the Tof had been navigating by pen or paper, or just knew which shelfs weren’t fragile…”

It makes sense. That’s what you might’ve done, maybe take a Tof or two as prisoner for interrogation. But that being said, there’s one problem that while you might’ve had a challenge with, the younglings would have absolutely been severely unprepared for.

“You didn’t charge them, did you?” you ask dryly. “Even if they dress like actors in a period play, still strut around with vibroblades and carry borderline obsolete firearms out of some sort of cultural sense of aesthetic…”

To your amusement, both of them shake their heads in denial, almost too vigorously. “Erm…” chuckles the kellaran, “…you really think we’re that reckless?”

“Do you seriously want the answer to that question.”

Coughing and clearing his throat, Joz picks up the slack, continuing, “…they had the numerical advantage. Two dozen to three…barring Stern with his broken leg. But the element of surprise wasn’t going to be long. They were picking the wreckage clean, and would’ve discovered no bodies among the debris.”

“If we had time, we might’ve planned a bit better,” grumbles Nujem, “But we didn’t. So, we did the best we could.” When they see you nodding in approval, he continues, “Crantz gave me as many thermal detonators I could carry, as well as a flare gun he’d lifted out of the cockpit. Once I made it back to the caves, I was supposed to shoot the gun and…and rig the charges at key locations at the cave’s entrance.”

That’s…certainly a bold move. He doesn’t need to explain any further for you to get a rough idea of what the intended plan was. To Joz, you query, “And what about you and Crantz? What was your part in this plan?”

“Snipe hunt,” he answers bluntly. “Although referring to Crantz as a sniper in any sort of formal capacity beyond ‘amateurish’ would be inaccurate. Once we saw the flare go up an hour later, Tof included, we made our ‘attack.’”

(cont.)
>>
“Come get some, you snaggly-toothed, green-skinned bastards!” the pilot cackled as he fires another high-powered shot down the mountainside. It veered wildly off the mark, but it does more than a good job of spooking his intended target. “How’s this for one of your ‘Great Hunts’ on the Killing Grounds back home?!”

Joz remained impassive, squinting through a pair of binoculars as the Tof scrambled for cover. Some even attempted to fire back, but their shots weren’t any good going too far up. “One soldier, making for a run towards the turret on the back of the transport…”

“I see him, kid…” A moment of silence, then a deafening BANG. “Dammit. I missed!”

“…you struck him in stomach and blew a hole the size of a watermelon right through him!”

“I was aiming for his head!”


Joz scribbles attack vectors and movements on the paper as he gives his recounting of the skirmish. “We didn’t stay too long. Once they rallied, and prepared to move their transports up the hill, we booked it. Didn’t kill too many, either; I only confirmed two definitive kills on Crantz’s part.”

“How did you outrun the transports?” you ask.

“Prior to moving to the caves, we had enough scrap metal in the crash site for two bobsleds. One carried Stern, the other carried the supplies. It was easy building enough speed to slide down the mountain, and reduce the time to return back to the caves.”

“Yeah, a little too quickly,” complains Nujem. “Stern and I barely finished rigging the caves when the two of you showed up, huffing and panting and awfully red-faced.”

Joz looks like he might make a snappy remark about his partner’s work ethic, but ultimately refrains from doing so. He settles for rolling his eyes, before returning his attention back towards you. “The Tof fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Crantz said that they were like rabid dogs chasing after the first sign of trouble…didn’t think better of it and jumped into their transports to chase us all the way back to the cave.”

“This cave does have an exit beyond the front entrance, right?” Stern nervously asks. In one hand, he clutches a holdout blaster, just in case the worst should come to pass. “…because I still remember when the Tof got a shipment of nerve gas and used that to flush out dissidents in the slave shantytowns.”

“Why would they have nerve gas on an inhospitable penal colony on an ice world?”

“…never mind.” Shaking his head, the injured pilot grunts as Crantz prepares to move him. “Easy on the invalid!”


“Crantz left us alone for a few minutes,” muttered Nujem. He shakes his head, clenching his fist. “He needed to get Stern out of the way. But he left me the detonator, slave-linked to all of the bombs. I also took the time to add some of my own…personal touches in the traps.”

That doesn’t sound ominous at all. “Elaborate.”

(cont.)
>>
“Remember that one prank back on Nazira where I had beanbags shoot out of hidden launchers and crude catapults if you broke an infrared line, or tripped on a wire?”

When you say that, yes, you do remember that prank that left a bruise on your ass for a good week, levity flees your body as the kalleran’s expression takes on a troubled frown. “…replace beanbags with unstable ammunition packs…”

…ah. You sit up just a little straighter as you give Nujem a second looking-over. He squirms uncomfortably in his seat, unable to meet your eyes as he hesitantly recites, “…they couldn’t drive their transports into the caves. They had to dismount and go in on foot. They got lost a few times, triggered a few traps that I’d set the night prior…”

He’s unable to finish. Joz squeezes his shoulder in a gesture of solidarity before picking up the slack. “What few made it into the inner sanctum were bloodied and disoriented. They were…easy to dispatch in their weakened state.”

An awkward silence settles in the Albatross. You break it by sitting completely straight, leaning forward and matching their gazes with the most serious expression you can conjure. “…was that your first time taking a life?” you quietly ask.

There were too many of them. They were pouring into the caves, having finally found their way through the labyrinthine tunnels and into their sanctum. Even with Crantz’s return, and the addition of a heavy repeating blaster to the two lightsabers, the trio knew that they were fighting on borrowed time.

It came too soon. One of the Tof, an absolute beast of a humanoid wearing heavy armor, barreled through the open space in a dead sprint towards the pilot. Crantz barely had any time to turn before he was knocked off his feet, thrown back into a nearby crate with a pained yell and scream of metal as his weapon twisted into an irreparable shape.

In an instant, Joz had leapt forward. His lightsaber snapped out, deflecting a stun bolt aimed at his midsection. Just before the Tof would have brought his boots upon the pilot’s head, he sliced the offending limb of with a well-practiced strike. The soldier barely had any time to scream before he subsequently lost his head.

“Are you alright?!” he demanded.

Crantz was bleeding from a wound in his head, dazed and slurring his words. Concussion. He was out of the fight.

It was moment the rest of the Tof had been waiting for. Even as their comrade’s body was cooling, they pushed forward, swarming out of the tunnel, pushing into the cavern. As one, Joz and Nujem reached for the Force, and pulled the pilot back to safety before a flurry of blaster bolts slammed into him.

“Push it!” screamed Joz to Nujem, ducking as a bolt whizzed past his head. He sundered a vibroblade that got too close, but its wielder had over a hundred pounds on him in weight, knew it, and was boxing him in. “Push the button!”


(cont.)
>>
File: Tof soldier.jpg (130 KB, 482x906)
130 KB
130 KB JPG
The kellaran fumbled with the object, pulling it out of his robes with a trembling hand. There was a moment of utter calm and clarity, where everyone stopped what they were doing, staring at the beeping device in the boy’s three fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, before he pressed the switch.

When the ringing in his ears stopped, and he was able to take breath without inhaling a bin’s worth of dust, Nujem crawled out of the sprawl of supplies and debris that had nearly buried him. He fumbled in the darkness, holding out his lightsaber to cast light upon the surrounding area…

“…Joz?” he said, almost afraid of how loud his voice was in the absolute silence. The echoes of the explosions had long since faded away, but he felt as if merely speaking would trigger another reaction. “Crantz?”

Coughing. He hurried over to the source of the noise, nearly stumbling over rocks in his haste to reach the voice, half-buried underneath a mound of rubble. “Joz is that-”

It was not. A green, meaty hand shot out from the rubble, catching Nujem by the throat. It’s owner slowly emerged, an enraged Tof with bloodshot eyes that looked at him with the hatred of a thousand stars. And his hand began to squeeze.

It continued to choke him even as Nujem’s lightsaber separated it from the soldier. His vision blurred and he was unable to scream as he charged the Tof, hacking, stabbing, failing wildly with his weapon. Darkness began to ring the edge of his vision. He was only another heartbeat away from oblivion before something had pried the fingers off of his throat, and he was able to breathe.

“Nujem!” shouted Joz. “Nujem, snap out of it. He’s dead! I need your help moving Crantz out to the back-”

There was so much blood. It was everywhere, on his hands, his robes, his face, his skin, leaking from underneath the rubble in great rivers to stain the ice crimson…everywhere but the corpse at his boots. Little more than a smoking hunk of fats and meat. Lightsaber wounds immediately cauterized injuries upon contact.

Nujem doubled over, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ice. He was violently sick, shaking terribly in a way that had nothing to do with the environs of the Chiller. Sensing life had never been one of his strongest suits, but even he had felt that moment. The moment when over two dozen signatures in the Force abruptly vanished when he pushed the button…


The kalleran doesn’t shut down as much as he stammers himself into silence. Joz shoots him a sympathetic look before finishing the encounter. “We got Crantz out of the rubble and treated him for his concussion. After that, we reunited with Stern, and took another tunnel to get back to the front entrance where the transports were.”

Grimacing at the plight of the youngling, you softly inquire, “…were you able to confirm the existence of an outpost?”

(cont.)
>>
>>4680418
Bruh lookit dis dude
>>
>>4680418
He nods. “Crantz and Stern were able to figure it out. We commandeered one, scuttled the other one and sent it over the edge of an ice shelf. From there, we only moved when we were sure there wasn’t anyone watching. They sent more patrols later, even had a few fighters doing strafing runs when they realized the kill team wasn’t coming back.”

“…I felt them all disappear,” Nujem eventually speaks. Silent tears run down the side of his face as the memory of the battle flashes through his mind. He looks at you, and it tears at your heart at how helpless the bright and mischievous prankster had become. “…I still want to be a Jedi. Nothing's changed that. But...no one at the temple...no one ever said anything about...”

No one had ever told you that when a man dies, his organs loosen and he'll stain his pants with piss or shit.

No one had ever told you how if you cut someone open, they'll fight on with pure adrenaline even as their guts fall out.

No one had ever told you about the noises dying men and women make, sobbing and calling for loved ones or parents.

In the clean and hallowed halls of the Jedi Temple, no one had told you any of these things until Master Larid had taken you as his padawan. And even then, he had given ample warning before you had ever seen those aphorisms displayed on the field of battle.

You stand up, and come to the youngling's side of the table. Nujem looks up as you place a hand on his shoulder, and offer a similar gesture of solidarity.

>>What words of comfort and/or wisdom to you have to offer to the troubled youngling?
>“A Jedi is more than justified in killing when all else fails. The Tof are too proud to surrender.” [Code]
>"I hope that this won't affect your pranking. I still owe you for the beanbag launchers..." [Humor]
>“It was your life or his, theirs or your comrades. Don’t let sentimentality get the best of you.” [Kreia]
>“Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
>“This is what it means to be a Jedi. I’m sorry you had to experience it sooner, but it is what it is.” [Blunt]
>“You were more than in the right. The Tof are evil, and it’s okay for Jedi to kill evil people.” [Dogma]
>Custom option. [Write-in.]

[VOTE OPEN FOR SIX HOURS]
>>
>>4680436
>“It was your life or his, theirs or your comrades. Don’t let sentimentality get the best of you.” [Kreia]
>>
>>4680436
As tempting as it is to follow granny Kreia's lead and make some little nihilistic sociopaths I think we're better off with
>“Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
Followed by
>"I hope that this won't affect your pranking. I still owe you for the beanbag launchers..." [Humor]
>>
>>4680436
>Once, a Jedi could seek enough strength to afford mercy to his enemies. We do not have that luxury anymore.
>“Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
>>
>>4680473
Back this but with some
>“It was your life or his, theirs or your comrades. Don’t let sentimentality get the best of you.” [Kreia]

At the end of the day some motherfucker comes at you, you have to take him down. If you can do that without killing him all the better for it, but if that's what it comes down to, then that's what it comes down to.
>>
>>4680436
>>“It was your life or his, theirs or your comrades. Don’t let sentimentality get the best of you.” [Kreia]
>>“Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
>>"I hope that this won't affect your pranking. I still owe you for the beanbag launchers..." [Humor]
A mix of these sounds good to me
>>
>>4680473
+1
>>
>>4680436

+1>>4680473
>>
>>4680436
>“It was your life or his, theirs or your comrades. Don’t let sentimentality get the best of you.” [Kreia]
>“Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
>>
>>4680560
>Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
Fastest way to lose your humanity, at least in my opinion.
>"I hope that this won't affect your pranking. I still owe you for the beanbag launchers..." [Humor]
It is nit best to dwell on these subjects, learn what you can from them and move on.

I feel like the Solemn and Kreia options are opposed in their views on killing: one sees it as a last resort (pacifistic), the other sees it as a means to an end (Machiavellian).

I got Machiavellianism and utilitarianism mixed up somehow.
>>
>>4680436
>“Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
>“This is what it means to be a Jedi. I’m sorry you had to experience it sooner, but it is what it is.” [Blunt]

With the [Blunt] option meaning that situations like that are what Jedi are expected to deal with.
>>
>>4680436
>>"I hope that this won't affect your pranking. I still owe you for the beanbag launchers..." [Humor]
>>“It was your life or his, theirs or your comrades. Don’t let sentimentality get the best of you.” [Kreia]
>>“Pray that taking a life, be it by the Force or with a lightsaber, never becomes easy.” [Solemn]
>>
>>4680436
>“It was your life or his, theirs or your comrades. Don’t let sentimentality get the best of you.” [Kreia]

I also had a thought about the Clones, namely that we should get them involved with teaching and training the kids.

The kids are too independent, the clones aren't independent enough, we got too many to handle ourselves anyways, and finally the biological instincts towards children are the most deep seated impulses so competing against indoctrination should be pretty effective.
>>
>>4680460
>>4680466
>>4680473
>>4680480
>>4680483
>>4680496
>>4680541
>>4680554
>>4680564
>>4680567
>>4680609
>>4680966

>>Tallying the votes, it looks like the most popular votes were the [Solemn] and [Kreia] options, along with a write-in vote. As one anon pointed out, those answers might be in conflict with each other, but there’s a way to draw lessons from both for the better.

“Once, a Jedi might have enough strength to afford mercy to his enemies,” you explain lightly, sitting down beside the troubled kalleran. “But we no longer live in that galaxy anymore. Especially now, since we’re here in the Unknown Regions. Mercy is a luxury, not a right guaranteed to those that might do you harm.

“You shouldn’t let sentimentality blind you to your duty.” Nujem starts at that, nervously crossing and uncrossing his arms and legs. Even as Joz tries not to pay too much attention to avoid embarrassing his companion, the clamari listens intently to the inadvertent lesson. “You’re not wrong to be conflicted, but your duty is to your survival, for the betterment of the galaxy.”

He looks up, taking a deep, troubled breath as he whispers, “…does it get easier?”

You don’t need a further elaboration. Does it get easier killing people? A question that had been certainly thrown out the window for most of the Jedi curing the war. With the bulk of the Separatist forces being mass-produced, lifeless droids with little in the way of individuality, those kinds of concerns were almost entirely nonexistent.

Had Revan felt the same way, had his own doubts and insecurities when he had marched to war against the Mandalorian Crusaders? Beneath the beskar armor, his foes had been flesh and blood, millions of different races united under a singular creed that glorified war and conquest. Under his orders, he had sent millions of his own to their deaths in the belief to not only stem the tide, but utterly crush the Mandalorians after years of brutal warfare.

Did those years of dulling the value of life have anything to do with his fall to the Dark Side?

And what about you? When you draw your lightsaber, fighting against corrupted abominations, slaver pirates, or Dark Jedi…you have done so because you have no other choice. And when you call upon the Force to bring down a ceiling, or redirect a grenade back at its thrower…

“…pray that it never becomes easy,” you tell Nujem, your voice deadly serious. “…pray that when you draw your lightsaber, you do so because you have no other option. Pray that when you call upon the Force, it is because you have no other choice in order to preserve the well-being of good-natured people. Pray that you never loose sight of the value of life, even as you throw yourself into conflict who have no regard or contempt for it."

(cont.)
>>
Some Jedi might have frowned upon such bleak teachings. But Master Larid might have been proud of your response. You know that Kreia certainly would have. Not that you did it because you agree with her cynical disposition. Her lessons supplement what you have come to learn after years of fighting as a Shadow.

You continue in that same solemn voice, “At the end of the day, when someone comes at you with the intent to kill, you have to take him down. It isn’t a sign of weakness or any sort of failure as a Jedi to not have the strength or choice to show mercy. Because if a permanent solution is required, then that is what is needed.”

Judging from the way he looks at you, this is the first time Nujem’s ever heard of such a paradigm. But Joz seems to pick up on it easily enough, nodding with every few words or so. And eventually, you can see the cogs and gears turning in the kalleran’s eyes to know that you’ve definitely planted something in his mind.

Clapping him gently on the shoulder, you stand up, returning to your seat on the opposite end of the table. Pouring everyone a fresh glass of water, you take a handful of sips and massage your throat. Talking certainly takes a toll on the vocal cords, all the more given the heavy subject.

“Just think about what I said, alright?” you gently reassure him. “Meditate on it. You aren’t the first to have this sort of moral quandary, and you won’t be the last.”

And in your honest opinion? All the more power to him if he’s struggling and contemplating instead of blindly following and accepting. Force knows that you’d put some white in Master Larid’s hair with all the questions you’d asked, especially about his more…unorthodox practices.

From there, the discussion becomes rote and straightforward. The four of them had hunkered in the hijacked transport, moving only in the cover of blizzards and nighttime. To their dismay, the walls of the valley were too high for them to exit and return to the Alliance’s beachhead. And the communications jammer seemed to extend for dozens of kilometers.

But everything had changed when they had sensed their fellow younglings coming planetside.

“They had found the note we left them,” Joz explains, “Tucked underneath our pillows. Of course, we only mentioned going to the Opulent Palace for a swim using the Flying Pan but…”

“Ritho overheard on a tour of the docks that the Flying Pan had been shot out of the sky over the Chiller.” Nujem sniffed. “Scared her something awful. Parn told me she all but came screaming into the common area, babbling about how we were dead and killed and…”

“I’m glad to see that she was incorrect,” you dryly muse, “…and how was it that they knew where to find you?”

“Ceyla,” they both answer simultaneously.

The miraluka girl. That would make enough sense, considering her species’ innate talent with the Force.

(cont.)
>>
They don’t divulge anything further, having been told by Master Larid to not “step on each other’s toes”. But they give a quick sketch of what happened afterwards. The shuttle ferrying the younglings had an easier time getting down to the planet. The Mylar Air Cavalry had kept the Tof fighters busy and distracted at a key refueling depot a hundred clicks away.

Unfortunately, in their haste to rescue Joz and Nujem, they had forgotten to check whether or not the shuttle they had hijacked had been overhauled for subzero operations. It had not been. The fuel had frozen in its tanks and the intake pipes had burst while they were searching for each other.

An argument ensued, but the pilots were quick to break it up. Not enough time, not enough supplies for fourteen, and they wouldn’t just sit on their thumbs and wait for someone to rescue them.

The plan was simple: Crantz would take one team of Jedi with him to go find the Tof outpost and disable the communications jammer. With his broken leg still recovering, Stern would watch over the younglings that weren’t combat-ready, alongside a detachment of some who were. Just in case the Tof decided to come looking.

Crantz had departed in the transport, taking with him Joz, Luaine, Ceyla and Vuqu. Remaining in the shuttle with the younger ones was Stern, Nujem, Parn and Ritho. Rescue eventually came once the departure team had brought down the jamming beacon, and the guard team held off a final wave of Tof attackers.

Master Aure had been hissing mad, and Master Larid looked damned near close to having an aneurysm. But those are stories to ask for the next set of younglings…

>>Please select the next set of younglings to interview:
>Parn Telate and Ritho Gad. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
>Luaine Natani, Ceyla Vikol and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to infiltrate a Tof outpost and fight their way to a comms array.]

>>Also, if you have any questions before Joz and Nujem leave, feel free to ask them.
>Custom option. [Write-in]

[VOTE OPEN FOR FIVE HOURS.]
>>
>>4681135
>>Parn Telate and Ritho Gad. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
Someone smarter than me come up with a good question for these potential padawans.
>>
>>4681135
>>Parn Telate and Ritho Gad. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
>>
>>4681135
>>Parn Telate and Ritho Gad. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
>>
>Luaine Natani
One of the masters should probably take her. We could, but Laird would be the wiser choice. She'd be the hardest to train, but also might result in the best payoff, knowing Kaz.

>Joz Kalgar
A good option, as we've played Farren as one reckless SOB, we can probably temper some of his passiveness. Torok or Sha would also be a good choice.

>Parn Telate
Seems a bit too much like Farren, I'd hate for the two of us to compound each other's negative traits. One of the masters should take him.

>Ceyla Vikol
Good kid, looks before she leaps, for the most part. A drive to prove oneself is good too, but needs someone to help bring her out of her shell. Useful ability too, but definite red flags regarding her relationship to Luaine.

>Ritho Gad
Has the capacity for great courage, just needs to realize it. A good quality to have, but she needs to work on her trust, in herself, in others, and in the Force. A middling choice. We could help her, but so could anyone else.

>Vuqu Dahae
Certainly /ourautist/, to be sure. Farren is a pretty empathetic person, we could absolutely start her down the path to personhood. And teach her a smidge more tact. Given two of our companions and our ship, her skills would be helpful. A good choice for anyone but Arotta, I think.

>Nujem Clavis
A good choice for anyone, seems like an easy kid.

>Cal Kestis
I'd hate to deprive him of all the character building that comes with working salvage. Give him a few years, then pick him up. Maybe Bracca is the last of the planets that our mom told us about that we check out.

Posting this from last thread to get us thinking about who we want.
>>
>>4681135
>Parn Telate and Ritho Gad.
>cheer up Nujem and Joz a little by promising that we’ll show them and the others how to do Force Fire someday as a lesson
>>
>>4681135
>Luaine Natani, Ceyla Vikol and Vuqu Dahe. [How they managed to infiltrate a Tof outpost and fight their way to a comms array.]
>>
>>4681135
>>Parn Telate and Ritho Gad. [How they managed to keep the other Younglings in line and defend their hijacked shuttle.]
>>
File: Ritho Gad.jpg (45 KB, 540x406)
45 KB
45 KB JPG
>>4681165
>>4681184
>>4681186
>>4681235
>>4681278

You thank Joz and Nujem for their time. But just before you send them on their way, you elect to cheer them up by showing off the Force ability you learned on Kakarit. Nothing too drastic, just taking a nail-sized tongue of flame from the open stove. It dances around your fingers, and you send it spinning in wild cartwheels above and around their heads.

Nujem’s grin returns and the familiar spark of mischievous joy lights up in his eyes as he watches the flame. Even Joz breaks out into a smile as you set the flame to hover harmlessly in your palm before extinguishing it. “…I’ll see if I can’t show you all how to do this someday.”

They depart from the Albatross, far happier and more chipper than they’d been upon entering. All in all, an interesting interview and debrief, and certainly one that got heavier than you’d expected. It is your sincere hope that they’ll be alright and ready for the transition from youngling to padawan.

The next pair to stumble up the ramp are Parn Telate and Ritho Gad. The young boy sports a black eye and an arm in a sling, but his tired smile remains optimistic and self-assured. His companion, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as upbeat, even beyond only a few bandages scattered across her body. The nautolian nervously fondles the end of the tentacles that drape down the side of her head, waving hesitantly as she approaches the mess hall.

“Hello, Farren,” she says politely, bowing in polite deference. “Or is that Master Farren, now?”

“Yes,” you confirm, pausing to think. “It’s no longer a technicality, even if Master Larid is up and about. But I won’t split hairs. I’ll answer to either ‘Master Farren’ or ‘Master Gaelle’. Both would’ve been appropriate back home.”

“I see…well, congratulations on your promotion.”

“Yeah, congrats!” Parn grins as he all but flops into his seat. He isn’t crass enough to kick up his feet, but he eagerly leans forward. “So, what did you end up fighting? We all saw the Lucrehulk core ship parked outside of the spaceport. And the trick you showed Nujem and Joz, the one with the fire…can we see it?”

His enthusiasm is…certainly a surprise to be sure. It comes in a very stark contrast to the serious Joz and the spooked Nujem that had come prior to their arrival. Then again, he’d always been a font of youthful energy, and never could be put upon for long periods of time.

You crack a smile and chortle as you pour them each a drink. “Tell you what. I’ll show you what the Grand Shamanka taught me once I finish your interview. Does that sound alright?”

Ritho nods, accepting her glass with silent thanks. Parn does likewise, although adds just before he drinks, he adds, “Can you also tell us about your duel with Darth Coniferous?”

You nearly drop the pitcher. “Wh…what? Who told you about…what?”

(cont.)
>>
File: Parn Telate.jpg (38 KB, 400x651)
38 KB
38 KB JPG
“Master Larid said that you’d fought against an evil tree, seeped in the Dark Side,” he says, innocently unaware of how Ritho motions frantically for him to stop talking. “Makes enough sense your new ability to set things on fire.”

…barring the fact that the Herald was of the Living Force, not the Dark Side, you aren’t keen on the fact that it’s not an inaccurate descriptor of the abomination. Darth Coniferus…of all names for him to have chosen. Your hand is mighty tempted to reach for one of the bottles of Correlian whiskey left to you by said master. Causing headaches with his antics, even if he isn’t here!

“…maybe later,” you eventually reply, rubbing the side of your head as you take an incredibly deep breath. “…much, much later after the course of this interview.”

He doesn’t look too dissuaded, nodding enthusiastically as he settles into his seat. “So, what do you wanna know?”

“Start from the beginning, if you please.” You turn to Ritho. “I was told that you were the one who discovered that Nujem and Joz were missing on the Chiller?”

She looks incredibly apologetic, cringing at both her friend’s antics and the memory of that day. “Yes. I…might have panicked.”

“They’re…they’re dead! I overheard…I…some of the d-dockworkers said that the {F-Flying Pan} had been sh-shot over the Chiller!”

An understandable response, given the circumstances. “No fault of your own. Likewise, I heard that it was Ceyla who discovered that they were alive.”

“Yes. She…she’d gotten a vision. She described a valley surrounded by icy mountains overlooking a perilous abyss, a five-fingered peak of jagged stone and snow.”

How poetic. But Parn shakes his head. “Wasn’t pleasant to look at, though. Her eyes…erm, uh…where they would’ve been…”

“It nearly knocked her off her feet,” continued Ritho, glancing to the side nervously. “…blue light filled her eye sockets. The same way a few months ago when…”

You frown. “Same way how?”

“Same way when she freaked out about that dark presence that came to Amagi,” answers the boy. He shivers, sneezing into his robe as he picks something out of his ear. A look from Ritho prompts him to hastily add, “…the, uh…the Dark Jedi we aren’t allowed to speak about or ask questions because Master Larid said it’s an ‘ongoing investigation privy only to Shadows.’”

The Revenant and the Storyteller. It’s hard to suppress a shudder yourself. But beyond that can of worms, it seems that Ceyla has an unexpected talent with Foresight. Something definitely worth speaking with both her and the masters at a later date.

“Luaine got it into her head that we had to go rescue them,” prompts Parn when you motion for him to continue. “Not that most of us didn’t disagree…”

“And I told you we should’ve sent an alert to Master Aure,” Ritho says reproachfully.

(cont.)
>>
“I mean…didn’t you? How else did she figure out to send Master Larid to come search for us?”

“There’s a difference between leaving a message to go out if we don’t return in time, and sending something out before the fact.”

“But it worked! Hardly our fault that Luaine and Vuqu were in a rush to pick out a shuttle.”

“The masters were very upset with what we did.”

“Eh…I guess so,” he reluctantly agrees, “But it’s still better to apologize than to ask for permission.”

“Parn!” she whines, exasperated.

You decide to keep to yourself as to whether or not you’d do the same thing had Torok, Kristen, any Salamander or even Arotta…huh. Well, that answers that question. And it goes without saying that you know them well enough to pull an inverse if you’d gotten your ass into the fire.

But your thoughts take a maudlin turn as you reflect upon Kristen, and the other Salamanders back on the Jedi Temple. They linger for a second, filling your mind with despair before you banish them.

“I was also very upset,” you add, throwing your two credits into the discussion. They both stop their exchange and clam up, mollified at the tone in your voice. “…but I’m also relieved that all of you returned. Don’t be so reckless when you’re only younglings.”

The implication of permissions to be reckless upon elevation to padawan remains unsaid. Not that they seem to notice, merely offering remorseful nods. “Now, tell me what happened once you made it to the Chiller…”

Their journey was, for the most part, the same way the prior pair had described it. The Air Cavalry was keeping the Tof’s defenses occupied with a battle in the opposite direction of the valley. And in the chaotic mess, logistics and comms were either too tied up or busy to pay attention to a singular shuttle that diverged to venture into no-man’s-land.

If Master Aure hadn’t chewed central operations and the combat controllers a new one, then it’d fall to you to scream at them for screwing up so badly.

“Who piloted the ship?” you ask.

“Vuqu,” they both answer, but Ritho explains, “Out of all of us, she knew the console best.”

“Which wasn’t all that good, anyway,” grumbles Parn. “I nearly threw up with how rickety things were before she discovered the internal dampeners.”

Not surprising, given the miriallan’s talent with mechanics. They don’t always translate so easily to starship operations. But they digress, and resume the story of their landing on the Chiller.

The vision made it easy enough to navigate towards the valley. From there, it was a matter of searching. By sheer luck, there hadn’t been any patrols or environmental obstacles to get in their way. But finding them without communications was something they struggled with when they discovered the effects of the jamming field.

“Where the hell are they?! You’d think that they’d make it easier, the jerks!”

(cont.)
>>
>>4681188
Good point about Ceyla and her relationship with Luaine, Torok definetly can't take her, given his reaction to disovering our fellow salamander in her semi-death. The masters could take her, but i think it'd be fun a fun storyline for us to take her
>>
>>4681652
I do think she'd make for an interesting padawan. She is my frontrunner, I'll admit. Ritho and Vuqu are tied in a close second place though. I think ideal pairings would be Kosa and Parn, Larid and Luaine, Aure and Joz, and Torok and Nujem. Sha is in a bit of a predicament with her Vader obsession, I'm not sure who she should be paired with. If any.
>>
>>4681668
I get how ritho and vuqu are more quirky characters with more distinct personalities in a sense, but don't mistake that for being an interesting character (not that they arent, i'd be happy having either of them as padawans). Ceyla, even though she is more level-headed and 'normal' has a really interesting relationship with luaine and her blindness/foresight, it will be less crazy and entertaining maybe in general but i think the highpoints can be much higher with her.
>>
Sorry my dyslexic ass read dont instead of do
>>
>>4681763
All good, Anon.
>>
>Darth Coniferous

My sides have ruptured.
>>
>>4681890
Went out like a Birch if you ask me.
>>
>>4682242
I cedar what you did there.
>>
>>4682286
I hope it was Oakay.
>>
>>4682327
You did a pine job.
>>
>>4682343
I'm willowailing in despair at this trunkton of tree puns.
>>
>>4682353
And yet Yew joined in.
>>
>>4682385
His bark really was worse than his bite.
>>
...Getting back on topic, considering the mess we made when we were nearly Force-possessed, we should really Spruce up the place.
>>
>>4682396
It's not as if we wrecked our living room on a Larch...
>>
>>4682385
I'll have you know I'm perfectly capable of going against the grain if I so wish. For the moment, however, I'll keep on rowan and see if we end up in Shit's Creek.
>>
File: akari sweg.jpg (90 KB, 528x710)
90 KB
90 KB JPG
I'm halfway tempted to post the update, but I'm equally tempted to just keep on watching and see how many tree-related puns you guys can come up with. Oh, the duality of man...

Writing.
>>
>>4682419
Oh, don't let our wordplay keep you rooted to the spot, sitting like a stump.
>>
>>4682409
>>4682419
Go far enough and you may be able to kick back and relax on the Beech.
>>
>>4682419
Don't let our Koa-lity tree punning stop you Frond up-Date-ing, Kaz.
>>
>>4682433
You were truly made Fir this.
>>
>>4682437
>takes a Bough
>>
File: 1471054556549.jpg (47 KB, 186x245)
47 KB
47 KB JPG
>>4682424
>>4682429
>>4682433
>>4682437
>>4682441
>>
>>4682441
We really should branch out. Go out and build a dock down on the lake so we have a place for Moringa boat.
>>
>>4682449
You know how it is Kaz, once anon latches onto a shitpost there's no stopping Neem.
>>
>>4682452
I'm afraid these puns have taken root in this thread.
>>
>>4682457
>>4682458
Yes it may be too late. Maybe it's best if we let it burn so we can sift through the Ash.
>>
>>4682461
It Butternut get thread deleted though.
>>
>>4682470
Yes we should be wary. I can practically hear the jannies Sumac their lips, salivating for an excuse.
>>
>>4682478
Thanks for the warning, we should be fine as long as we pay them Tulip service.
>>
>>4682482
I'm afraid my knowledge of tree puns is coming to an end. The deteriorating vernacular Clusia in.
>>
>>4682478
>>4682482
It would help if you two would stop Banyan-tering and giving them Resins. So Pecan you guys please put a Cork in it and Grove up?
>>
>>4681620
Eventually, through an odd combination of using smoke signals and Ceyla nearly giving herself a migraine, the younglings were able to rendezvous. There had been a lot of shouting. A lot of it, in addition to pointed fingers. Justified as it was, the anger didn’t last for too long. Introductions had been made with the wayward pilots, and plans made to make a break for the Alliance’s FOB.

But that all went out the window when they discovered that the shuttle hadn’t been outfitted for subzero operations. True to Joz and Nujem’s earlier words, Parn and Ritho describe that the fuel had frozen, intake pipes had burst, and the main reactor wasn’t responding.

“…of all the things to forget to check,” Ritho groaned, shivering as a cold breeze blew through the interior of the shuttle. Parts flew as Vuqu and Crantz desperately tore at the reactor, trying to either repair the fuel lines or something way above her tech level. “…you didn’t think it was just a little suspicious that this shuttle wasn’t being as guarded as much of the other vehicles?”

“Ritho, please be quiet…” Ceyla muttered. Even with the bandages around her eyes, the miraluka’s brow was visibly contorted. “I’m sorry, but I could really, really use the silence.”

“Yeah, but, uh…” Parn looked to where the mechanics were frantically trying to restore power to the ship’s systems. “…you wanna get them to be quiet as well?”

“No. Because they’re the only ones who have the knowledge to fix the ship-”

“Shit’s fucked,” shouts Crantz, emerging from the underside of the reactor with a face streaked with grime and soot. “This bird isn’t gonna be flying without repairs from a proper drydock.”

“…never mind.” Ritho didn’t know how, but Ceyla’s frown sharpened into an irritated grimace. “I honestly didn’t know what else I should’ve expected…”

Vuqu followed shortly after, and was helped onto her feet by the human pilot. The mirialan girl shook her head, clicking her tongue in annoyance. “The fuel lines have ruptured, and the electric systems are frozen over. There’s no power, no heating…nothing at all beyond the function to open and close the shuttle doors.”

“Which are manual, by the way,” shouted Stern from his bobsled. Bundled up like some sort of macabre caterpillar from the leftover robes the younglings had packed, he made for an odd sight atop the ice and snow. “But like my copilot said…shit’s fucked.”

Ritho felt herself tensing as she moved towards the other younglings. To their credit, they seemed to remain docile, staying with the main group...but not all of them were there. A trio had broken away to start a snowball fight, of all things!

“Prisma! Zabrys! Fusan!” she shouted. “Get back here right this instant! The ice isn’t safe, and it could collapse if you put your weight on the wrong angle…don’t you roll your eyes at me, young lady!”


(cont.)
>>
>>4682488
It's definitely getting more difficult, I'm Tamarack-ing my brain thinking them up.
>>
>>4682495
>>4682498
Truly a dark time of wordplay. A Torchwood surely help.
>>
>>4682496
>A trio had broken away to start a snowball fight, of all things!
Prisma is my favorite.
>>
>>4682496

Exasperated, she turned towards Stern. “Could you please tell them to get back to the shuttle?”

“Honestly?” the pilot sniffed, “I’d just have everyone crawl into the Tof transport. We might not make the bird space-worthy, but it shouldn’t take too long to get electrical back up and running. At the least, the tykes won’t freeze to death while we work on the shuttle.”

Crantz snorts. “Who’s this ‘we’ you’re speaking about? It’s gonna be me, like usual, fixing the mess we’ve found ourselves in. Only this time, I’ve got someone who actually knows what they’re doing, and she doesn’t even come up to my ribs!”

Had she blinked, Ritho might have missed the faint coloration that had entered Vuqu’s cheeks. But Luaine hadn’t, even as the two pilots began to bicker once again. She rolled her eyes, scoffing at the display as she moved towards Ceyla. “You need anything?”

“A cup of soup would be nice,” answers her friend, wincing at some unseen pain. “…although I wouldn’t mind some headache medication.”

“That won’t be for another hour. Instructions on the survival kit said a max of two every four hours.”

“Drat. I don’t suppose you brought that pillow of yours with you?”

“Not enough room. But I could always take my lightsaber and carve a block out of the ice for you to lay your head on.”

“Harde-har-har, Lu…”

Had she the hair, Ritho might have torn it out of her scalp. As it was, she could barely feel the edges of her tentacles. She turned to her last hope of sanity. “Parn, please help me-”

“Nautoliansayswhat.”

“What-?”

That was all the warning she had before a hand pulled the back of her hood open. She shivered as the arctic wind blew gooseflesh on her skin…and promptly screamed as a fistful of snow had been stuffed down her robes.

Parn was laughing, the jerk! He was laughing, uncaring as she turned, snarled and advanced towards him. He continued to wheeze, even as he raised one hand in supplication, and gathered more snow in another. “Ri, come on! When’s the last time we went somewhere where it was snowing. Ilum?”

“We never went to Ilum,” observes Seana, rubbing her ears tenderly. The pointed ends of the sephi’s ears caused her hood to give her the appearance of a cat, even as she shivered and rubbed her arms together. “Master Larid was supposed to take me and Fusan there after the war’s end.”

That definitely put a noticeable crimp in the boy’s jubilee. Not that it stopped him from throwing the snowball.

“We’re in the middle of enemy territory,” Ritho hissed, “With no communications, no working source of warmth, right out in the bloody open, and you want to have a snowball fight?”

“Well, when you put it that way…yeah,” he said without a hint of shame. “Ri, come on. I get that it’s stressful, but try to loosen up! Relax a little bit while they try to fix the shuttle.”


(cont.)
>>
“I’ll be significantly more relaxed once we have an insulated space and a direct line to Master Aure, thank you very much. And…Parn, I swear to the Force, if you throw that snowball at me-!”

At the very least, the Parn of the present has the awareness to be embarassed of his actions. He isn’t quite able to meet yours or Ritho’s gaze, starring errantly at something just beyond your shoulder. Even as his peer is doing her best to glare a hole into his shoulder.

“…you do know that in those kinds of environs,” you slowly begin, “The echoes can go for miles? Even the tiniest noise can sound like a gunshot if the physics is right.”

He remains silent, stewing in his own chagrin. Ritho answers for him, even as she visibly sulks. “Yes. They didn’t finish the repairs in time before they heard Tof coming down the mountain. As it was, Crantz and Vuqu barely had any time to hitch the shuttle to the transport with a tow cable, and drag it out of the open…”

“Surely you left tracks for them. I can’t imagine that hauling something with a shuttle’s weight on ice wouldn’t leave any evidence behind.”

“We got lucky. By the time the Tof actually made it down the mountain, it started snowing. It wasn’t perfect, since they did see enough to know that something had landed in the valley, but they didn’t know where we took it.”

Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe it. “And Nujem and Joz? What were they doing when all of…this was going down?”

Parn seems to have recovered enough of his dignity to answer, “They were passed out, dead asleep in the transport. Stern said that they overexerted themselves to lift a ton of debris off his leg and save his life.”

Ritho adds, “And I think that this was still only a handful of hours after their skirmish in the caves with the Tof. They made enough time to be awake and greet us, but once the shuttle broke down, and the plan sort of…fell apart…”

Which mean that Joz had been exhausted, and Nujem in a state of shock. But you’d already spoken with the pair about their exhaustion and excursion.

Ritho and Parn continue their side of the story. In the underpass that they’d hauled the shuttle to, the plan had been made to venture into the valley and disable the comm tower. Crantz and Stern had hotly objected to the younglings coming along.

“So you’re skilled enough to take on an entire Tof garrison by yourself,” snarked Luaine, arms crossed beneath her breasts. “I thought you were a pilot, not a spec ops soldier.”

“Don’t get fresh with me, kid,” Crantz snapped, pointing a finger right towards Joz and Nujem. “Those two barely survived an encounter with a kill squad. And you say that the calamari is one of the best in your group?”

Vuqu, for better or worse, decided to add her own two credits. “She won’t admit it, but she’s even better than him. You’d be foolish to not take her along with you.”


(cont.)
>>
There wasn’t a single youngling among the group who didn’t jump at the ferocity of the growl that escaped Luaine’s throat. Ritho involuntarily grabbed Parn’s arm, and dropped her hand towards her belt. Not quite within range of her lightsaber…but just a handful of inches away.

He didn’t have all the details, but from the way Master Aure had responded, something bad had happened between the girls. And apparently, even an indirect compliment of her skills was enough to raise her hackles. Parn was well enough aware that he was a clod, but even he knew that this was the calm before a terrible storm, and moved to protect the rest of the younglings from the potential fallout.

“Lu…” Ceyla was there, placing a hand just above her elbow. She didn’t say anything, merely pursed her lips together and shook her head slightly.

Luaine exhaled slowly, breathing out her mouth in a controlled, slow manner. Only when she was finished did Parn and Ritho relax. But the girl jerked her head towards Crantz, sourly grousing, “She’s…not wrong. Pride isn’t something a Jedi’s supposed to feel, but I frequently emerged the victor whenever I sparred with Joz.”

This time, Stern is the one that argued, “Do you have any experience fighting? And no, I’m not talking about battle droids. Real combatants, flesh and blood…”

She hesitated, but clenched her fist and teeth with a resolved determination. “I’ve trained my whole life for this kind of encounter. Battle isn’t just going to schedule itself around my birthdays or conveniently close to my trials.”


“They tried going back and forth, but apparently,” Ritho recalls, “Luaine was able to win them over, albeit under duress. Although she really wasn’t happy when Vuqu offered to come along as well.”

Parn sneezes. “The look on her face…shivers. But Ceyla decided to go as well. Crantz was skeptical, but ultimately accepting of her sensory abilities. He figured that he might be able to use her as a radar, or something to help find the outpost quicker.”

“Plus, Luaine was in a brighter mood with her coming along. And then once Joz woke up and swallowed a few painkillers, he was ready to leave as well.”

The departure team had stayed long enough to see the shuttle’s power restored. And once that had been finished, they took the transport and set off up the mountainside.

As the eldest among the shuttle team, barring the injured Stern, Parn and Ritho had taken command of the remaining younglings. They set to barricading the area as best they could, moving small boulders and whatever scrap they could find into a defensible position. Nujem had to be coaxed out of his stupor, but he eventually complied with rigging the area with his trademark pranks, albeit flavoring them with a deadly twist.

But no sooner had the sun set, and the night was starless, cloudless sky, that the Tof had found them.

(cont.)
>>
”They found us!” hissed Nujem frantically. It had been his turn to keep watch, and he tugged at Parn’s robes to shake him out of slumber. “They tripped one of the bell traps I set at the entrance of the ravine!”

He was up in an instant, blowing snot out of his nose and checking his belt for his lightsaber. Ritho was only a blanket away, snoring softly into her makeshift pillow of robes. She had been bleary-eyed and befuddled, but Parn could see the adrenaline chasing her fatigue away.

“Stern!” she hissed low towards the pilot, resting by the campfire. “They found us- “

“I heard Nujem the first time,” he grunted. A slew of curses and obscenities escaped the pilot’s throat as he hauled himself out of the bobsled. He hissed as his bad leg hit the ice, but he took up his rifle and began to limp towards the gunner’s nest. “…you guys better not do anything stupid, you hear?”

“Same to you!” whispered Ritho as she hurriedly woke the rest of the younglings. They were wide eyed and terrified, but a handful of reassuring whispers and words calmed their nerves. “Crantz would never let us hear the end of it.”

“Yeah, but he’s not a Jedi,” he drawls, shaking his head as he swallows a fistful of painkillers. “Because I know for a fact that the zabrack in charge of the invasion wouldn’t be too happy with either of us space jockies. And the Supreme Archon likes her well enough that he’d give her cart blanche to have our livers served on a silver platter.”

Before Ritho could ask what the hell he meant by that, Parn had gestured for them to hurry on up. They still had to get into their positions.

The Tof had descended and entered the ravine in pairs and trios. Dressed in ornate fur coats and wielding axes and rifles, they advanced slowly through the gap where they’d hauled the shuttle. From his vantage point, Parn could see their approach, and he held the ropes linked to the boulders high above their heads.

A songbird’s whistle echoed hauntingly through the valley, a noise that caused the Tof to search frantically for the sound. It was a melody not native to the Chiller. That was the signal they’d agreed upon.

With a single tug of the ropes and a tug with the Force, Parn set the stones rolling. The rocks went bounding down the side of the ravine, falling upon the Tof vanguard without as much as a warning. It wasn’t a true avalanche, but the rockslide they had rigged had sent at least a few tons of stone and rock at the chokepoint of the ravine.

They wouldn’t be able to drive a transport through that, at least not after excavating everything.

Growls and war cries quickly banished the triumphant thoughts in his head. Parn hurried along, sliding gently down the incline. He wobbled and cursed, struggling to maintain his balance has he descended down the cliffside. He fell in line beside Ritho, igniting his lightsaber, a deep blue to match the verdant green of her own weapon.


(cont.)
>>
Growls and war cries quickly banished the triumphant thoughts in his head. Parn hurried along, sliding gently down the incline. He wobbled and cursed, struggling to maintain his balance has he descended down the cliffside. He fell in line beside Ritho, igniting his lightsaber, a deep shade of blue to match the verdant green of her own weapon.

“Check your movements,” called Stern from the gunner’s nest. “Try not to stray into my line of fire. And for the love of all that’s good, please don’t get too cocky. Fall back if you need to. I’ve got plenty of ammunition and weapons to go around.”

They nodded, more to each other than to the pilot. Parn and Ritho took up stances as the first of the Tof crawled over the rubble, brandishing an axe and bellowing something unintelligible. He didn’t last long, posturing as he did before Stern unleashed a full volley out of his E-Web heavy repeating blaster.

The rest of the Tof came pouring over the rubble, swarming the ravine in search of blood and battle. Some had no compunction using their comrades as shields, throwing them in the way of the line of fire in order to secure their own leaps to cover. Parn felt sick, but he spat out the urge to vomit and gripped his lightsaber all the tighter.

If Master Larid knew that they might have gotten into this kind of predicament, he might not have removed the restrictions that otherwise limited the full potential of a youngling’s lightsaber. But those early days since their flight from Nariza are few and far between. As Stern moved to reload his weapon, the Tof turned towards the Jedi, eyes mad and slavering with delight at the potential for taking slaves.

But even before the Tof got too close, more traps had been activated. Nujem was in the background, leaping from station to station, triggering traps as benign as improvised caltrops, to outright impalement as they fell into holes lined with jagged scrap metal. By the time they reached the pair of Jedi, they were bloodied and far from peak condition.

“…don’t forget your footwork,” Ritho whispered, falling into a familiar-enough stance. "These aren't going to be anything like training."

Parn snorted, mimicking her posture, albeit with minor adjustments. “I had a good sparing partner to correct my mistakes."

The Force flowed through both of them, no differently than the exercises they had done together upon Amagi. Beyond the correction of footwork and other bad habits, they had trained and trained. Ritho trained to distract and prevent herself from falling into a loop of worry and paranoia. Parn trained to better himself and reach as close to perfection as he could.

The Force flowed through both of them, seemingly unifying two separate entities into a singular movement as they met the Tof’s charge head-on.


>>Having trained extensively together, Parn & Ritho merge their dice pool and Lightsaber Rating of 1.
>>Please roll me 2d6+2 Lightsaber.
>Best out of three.
>>
Apologies if these are getting a bit lengthy. The decision to vote for padawan is incredibly permanent, and I want to showcase all of the younglings in action before we reached the vote and debates. I don't want to be accused of failing to highlight or otherwise depriving an eligible youngling of their fair turn in the narrative sunlight.
>>
Rolled 2, 1 + 2 = 5 (2d6 + 2)

>>4682934
>>
Rolled 4, 6 + 2 = 12 (2d6 + 2)

>>4682934
>>
Rolled 4, 1 + 2 = 7 (2d6 + 2)

>>4682934
>>
Rolled 4, 3 + 2 = 9 (2d6 + 2)

>>4682934
>>
>>4682966
Should be pretty decent, average result would have been a 9.
>>
>>4682939
All good, boss. If I'm reading things right, the padawan-age younglings all have their normal lightsabers, just locked in training mode? Wondering if we'll have to take time in the future to help them get black-market crystals for a great-value version of the Gathering.
>>
>>4683019
Larid took the restrictions off the youngling’s lightsabers. At least, all of the younglings eligible to become padawans. So Nujem and up. Rest of the younglings either have bog standard training lightsabers from out of a box, or no lightsaber at all.
>>
Rolled 3, 2 + 2 = 7 (2d6 + 2)

The longer the posts, the better in most cases, we'll just make more tree puns to balance it out.
>>
File: 1573598689391.png (765 KB, 1001x1001)
765 KB
765 KB PNG
>>4683121
>we'll just make more tree puns to balance it out.
Alright Boswellia asked for it.
>>
Anyone else want to get an astromech? I think one would cover some skills and abilities in areas we're lacking.
>>
>>4684614
I mean, we could, but we've already got two droids. One of which is a head we could get a body for, that can do everything an astromech can. Would avoid cast bloat, and it's not like we use a starfighter than would exclude non-astromechs from being used in that role.
>>
>>4685222
HK units are nothing like astromech droids. They specialize in assassination and protocol. Astromechs are for navigation, slicing, repairs, and piloting. If anything, the potential droid overlap is between HK-82 and B-33. We don't have any way to get through locked doors without using our hyper-illegal and incredibly distinct weapons, an astromech would be worth buying for the scomp link alone.
>>
>>4685233
I know that, but nothing's saying we couldn't kitbash parts together when we get to acquiring a body for HK.
>>
>>4685264
I got the sense that recovering his original body is what he's getting at, not finding/making a new one. Besides, that's a whole project and I'm sure we'll run into a locked door in the non-Unknown Regions before then.
>>
>>4685233
I mean you could totally teach B-33 those things. He has the super autism brain after all.
>>
File: Bolas.jpg (18 KB, 540x320)
18 KB
18 KB JPG
>>4682960
>>4682966
>>4682968

This was not like fighting the training droids. With the remotes, Parn or Ritho only had to worry about ranged threats. The Tof had a predilection of closing the distance, charging close enough to roar and spit, too close to inhale obnoxious amounts of perfume and floral scent. The fancy clothing did little to hide the savagery in how they wielded pistol and axe to brutal effect.

Not a single one of the raiders have a weapon capable of withstanding a lightsaber. But that doesn’t mean that they aren’t any less dangerous. Away from the little ones, Nujem had shown them the bruises around his neck to prove it.

Ritho grimaced, backpedaling as a marauder took a swing at her with his weapon. He had overcompensated, and had buried half of his axe into the frozen ground. The soldier didn’t have enough time, barely managing to lift it out when she made a gesture and concentrated. The Force aided his recovery effort, unsticking the weapon, albeit perhaps too fast and too hard. He screamed as the momentum brought the weapon’s other half into the soft flesh of his face.

Even Parn managed to wince in sympathy. “That’s definitely gonna leave a mark!”

Stern had reloaded his weapon, but the barrel of the repeater had begun to glow an ominous cherry-red. He had switched to a high-powered rifle, firing pot shots as Nujem frantically shoveled snow onto the repeater to cool it down. Unfortunately, Stern was a pilot, not a gunner, and his marksmanship showed for it. More often than not, his shots went wide, gouging steaming furrows in the ice as opposed to flesh.

But accuracy wasn’t his most important priority, as much as it was sowing mayhem in the advancing forces. And it was working well. The relatively open expanse of the ravine had only as much cover as the younglings had allowed themselves to create. Two, maybe three raiders might be able to comfortably hide behind the boulders. Not the entire mass that was spilling through the entrance.

The Force whispered a warning. Ritho saw the object headed her way, a trio of spinning balls linked together by fibercord. The bolas whistled through the air, narrowly missing her legs as she leapt backwards…and got herself tangled in another pair sent her way, face-planting onto the ground with a pained cry. The breath almost left her lungs from how hard the spheres smacked into her chest.

As if sensing her distress, Parn broke off from his opponent, skidding across the ice. His lightsaber drove into the ground, arresting his movement as he flipped into the air. The azure blade flickered out, slicing through the bindings holding her arms and legs pinned together.

“You alright?” he asked, offering a hand up for her to take.

She didn’t answer, eyes widening as the Tof leveled their weapons at the pair of them. Ritho shook the pain out of her arms, fumbling to bring her lightsaber up as she screamed, “Parn, watch out-!”


(cont.)
>>
File: Star Wars #105 - The Tof.jpg (1.39 MB, 1232x1047)
1.39 MB
1.39 MB JPG
>>For actions taken during the first thread…
>>Farren had intensified the younglings’ blaster deflection training in lieu of maintaining appropriate difficulty.

A series of shots that might have struck Parn are parried, if not outright deflected back towards the Tof. He riposted, twisting on his foot to bat away two bolts that would have otherwise stunned or killed him. There wasn’t a single movement wasted as the boy spun his lightsaber defensively, protecting Ritho as she hauled herself onto her feet.

But he wasn’t able to block out everything. He shouted in pain as a bolt sizzled past the skin of his arm, causing him to drop his lightsaber. Ritho hissed as a shot nearly flash-fried the skin of her tentacles. Sensing their weakness, the Tof surged forward and out of cover, weapons raised high and voices shouting in wild exaltation.

“Hit the deck!” screamed Nujem.

Ritho and Parn dropped to the ground as a high-pitched white came from the gunner’s nest. That was all the Tof had for warning as Stern leapt back onto the repeater, spitting out another furious volley. He didn’t even need to aim, sweeping the barrel side-to-side, cutting down the marauders as they tried to get within striking distance of the winded younglings.

They held onto each other, shielding their heads and torsos as the repeater kicked up debris and shrapnel out of the dirt. Parn was just barely able to reach his lightsaber, pulling it back into his left hand. But there was a noticeable discomfort as she saw it settle in his grip. Jedi were trained with some level of ambidexterity, but left-handed wielding was one of his weaker suits.

“You’re hurt,” she said.

“Just a scratch,” he grumbled, pulling something out of his belt. He slapped the bacta patch on his arm, wincing as it contoured to the angry, bloody wound along his forearm. “I can still use a lightsaber and the Force. It isn’t over yet.”

It wasn’t. Even as the last of this wave were cut down to size, they could see more Tof coming over the barrier. They were stepping over the corpses, edging each other on, uncaring for the carnage piled at their feet. Ritho could sense their pheromones, their thoughts at the barest surface level. A brief flash of images entered her mind; their cruel intentions for Stern and Parn, the lust towards any females should they find them...

…she gagged. All of her doubts about Torok and Farren’s brutality in dealing with the Tof during the slave revolution had gone out the window. Supposedly, there was no such thing as a truly evil race. But all she had heard and seen of the Tof made a very good case against that argument.

They crawled back towards cover, keeping low as Stern and Nujem gave them cover to regroup. She fished out a syrette from her survival kit, jamming the narcotic cocktail into her neck. Within seconds, the pain in her head abated, and she turned to dress Parn’s wounds as best she could.


(cont.)
>>
What was up with the Nagai-Tof War in the EU anyway?

I'm loving these descriptions of battle Kaz, great stuff.
>>
File: Spoiler Image (128 KB, 410x800)
128 KB
128 KB JPG
>>4685673
There was this really neat article on StarWars dot com back in the day that went over it in great detail. I'll try my best to summarize it. Spoilers ahead.

Three hundred years ago, the Nagai homeworld was invaded by the Tof when they first started experimenting with FTL and sending scout ships out in their satellite galaxy, Firefist/Companion Besh. They put up a valiant fight, but ultikmately lost, and were either enslaved or scattered to the corners of the galaxy.

In the EU, the Nagai planned invaded the galaxy in order to establish their own empire and base of operations. From there, they would raise armies and ally with species similarly oppressed by the Tof, and launch a counter-invasion back into the Firefist Sector. They thought that in the aftermath of the Separatist Crisis/Clone Wars, they'd be able to take advantage of the confusion, but the Empire solidified their grasp on the Outer Rim too quickly for them to move. Thus, they bid their time, waiting and keeping feelers out for any movements against the Empire, eventually stumbling upon the Rebellion.

Following Endor and the destruction of the Second Death Star, they saw their chance. As the Rebellion was formalizing their transition into the Alliance of Free Planets, and Imperial Warlords began consolidating their territory, they launched their invasion of the galaxy. They made significant headway and caused no small amount of chaos before the Tof caught up to them.

A truce was declared between the Alliance and the Nagai, and they joined forces to repel the Tof. They were successful, but suffered pyrrhic victories due to the savagery of the Tof. They were only defeated when a strike team led by Leia, Han and Luke infiltrated their FOB posing as slaves, and notable soldiers the likes of Kyle Katarn had gone undercover to gather intelligence. After a fierce battle against the Tof, led by the Dark Jedi Lumiya, the Alliance-Nagi coalition emerged the victor when Luke captured the Tof leader and forced their forces to surrender.

The Nagai were offered a planet and place in the New Republic, but most had politely refused, instead taking their ships to return to the Firefist Sector in a liberation campaign. Interestingly enough, they were joined by a cadre of Mandalorians who deemed their cause just and noble. After a humiliating defeat at the hands of Luke, Lumiya managed to escape in spite of her injuries. She would remain undetected for years, emerging only at the end of the Yuuzhan-Vong war to tempt and ultimately sway Jacen Solo to the Dark side.

One noteworthy nagai in the EU includes Darth Nihil, one of Darth Kryat's top enforcers in the Galactic Empire during the Sith-Imperial War/Second Imperial Civil War. He was bested in a duel by Cade Skywalker, losing an arm and subsequently stripped of his Darth title by Kryat. Nihil outlived his master following Kryat and Skywalker's final duel, and took command of the One Sith as they went into hiding.
>>
File: Jedi Starfighter.jpg (112 KB, 1024x514)
112 KB
112 KB JPG
>>4685643

The telltale echo of Stern cursing up a storm was the signal they needed to rejoin the fight. They leapt out of cover as the pilot returned to his rifle, and Nujem resumed the activation of his traps. Parn and Ritho wasted no time in throwing themselves back into the fray, united against the terrible foe that stood before them, coming through the ravine in an unrelenting tide.

Awareness of time was lost to them. The barrel of Stern’s web repeater had melted to slag sometime into the conflict, and the pilot was forced to permanently rely on his rifle. Nujem had lost whatever restraints he had, throwing grenades and overcharged ammunition packs in lieu of boulders and iron spikes.

Their arms ached with strain and lactic acid, and their hearts galloped like panicked horses. Ritho felt all of her hearts struggling to pump oxygen throughout her body. Parn’s lungs desperately sucked in air as he sucked in great mouthfuls between the waves. Their souls and wills quivered with exhaustion, and a dozen different wounds sting them with pain.

But they cannot fall. They could not fall. They saw the marauders before them, a fragment of a larger regime that sowed nothing but pain and suffering upon untold millions. And in their mind’s eye, they see the faces of the little ones, smiling and laughing, playing in either the grasslands of Nariza or in the snow of the Chiller.

Parn Telate and Ritho Gad knew down to their very bones that they cannot allow the two of them to meet. They would not fall. Only when the last of the soldiers was slain, and not a second later, or whenever backup decided to arrive. But it had to come soon, otherwise it might be taken out of their hands.


Ultimately, backup had arrived. Just before the break of dawn, the strike team had managed to infiltrate the communications array. With the jamming gone, their call for aid went through, and did not go unanswered. Torok had led the charge, and the starfighters of Blitz Squadron streaked through the ravine, blasting the Tof and their reinforcements to bits and pieces.

Master Kosa herself had personally arrived to exfil them, commandeering the shuttle the Alliance had sent to retrieve them. She had been furious, understandably so. But her concern and relief had won over, pulling them into a tight embrace. Retribution would come later. But in that moment, joyous relief would suffice.

“And then Master Larid went to go pick up the strike team in the Tof outpost,” finishes Ritho, rubbing her bandages with an absent expression, “I heard there was still fighting over there, even when Master Larid arrived to extract them.”

There had been. But you see little point in expanding upon that, and merely let them finish their story.

(cont.)
>>
Master Kosa rescued them? Do you mean Master Aure?
>>
File: image0.jpg (51 KB, 344x250)
51 KB
51 KB JPG
>>4686190
Ye, that's supposed to be Aure. My bad.
>>
>>4669335
I've been wondering, has pic related happened, or was it just picked to represent Kashyyyk's current feelings towards the Empire? Trying to get a feel for where we are in the timeline and if there's 13 Jedi there instead of a paltry 5.
>>
>>4685736

As far as you can tell, the pair seem to have handled the quandary of killing better than Nujem had. Perhaps that was a mark in their favor, two years of additional maturity that the kellaran didn’t have. Someone else might have suggested apathy or disaffection towards life, but their motives had been pure. They were all that had stood between the little ones and the Tof.

There had been no sentiment for the enemy, but plenty for what they were fighting to protect. An emotion, admittedly, but one that was more than justified in feeling.

Of course, you aren’t just about to let them go off on their way. After everything’s finished, it would be wise for them to speak to the other masters. Pitched battle wasn’t something a youngling their age had to deal with, and yet they had to the point where the corpses had pilled at their feet.

It certainly wouldn’t hurt. At the worst, they’ll simply have a new “mother” beyond Ritho to refer to and grumble beneath their breath.

“I understand that you injured your arm from a stray blaster bolt,” you address Parn, “But how did you get that black eye?”

“Ah, erm…” He flushes, embarrassed, “I, uh…slippedonarocktryingtogetotheshuttle.”

You blink. “I beg your pardon?”

“…I slipped on a rock when Master Aure came to pick us up…” he mutters, shame-faced. Parn’s blush turns a shade darker as you crack a smile.

“I’m relieved that it’s only that, and not something given by the Tof.”

Ritho takes a moment to look somewhat smug, nudging her companion in the ribs. “I guess you still need some practice with your footwork.”

“Ri!” complained Parn, helpless as the two of you had inadvertently ganged up on him. Although you quickly cough as he turns towards you. “Farren…Master Gaelle, come on!”

You wave off his protest with a placating gesture. “Peace, peace…I only jape because I’m glad you’re alive. Truly.”

He mutters something angrily under his breath, but accepts your words with an audible huff.

Ritho shakes her head, and the myriad tentacles that come down the side of her head move in tandem with her motion. The smug look disappears, morphing into something more uncertain, pondering. “Master Farren?”

You immediately become serious once more. “Yes? Is there something the matter?”

“…was I wrong to be so…” She pauses, scrunching her face in consternation, “…I don’t know. Uptight? I’m sorry. It’s just that ever since the fall of the Republic, I’ve been on edge. What happened lately, even before the Chiller and just everything happening on Amagi…”

It takes you a moment to parse the meaning of her question. And much like Joz, Parn listens into her query with concern and worry. Then to you as her question trails off, becoming less certain, hopeful that you might apprehend the question she’s unable to put into words.

(cont.)
>>
Both Ritho and Parn felt what you felt on that dark day, felt what gave Master Larid a heart attack and laid him low for almost two weeks.

Both had been present when Ceyla had her violent vision of the Revenant and the Storyteller, laying her low and injuring her eyes.

Both had likely heard about what had happened to Kristen, even if Aure and Larid weren’t speaking of what happened.

And now, their unexpected visit to the Chiller, and how almost everything had went wrong.

Ritho Gad and Parn Telate are opposites in their approach to life. Even on Nariza, she had always been fussing over the smaller things, the unimportant and grandiose. He had approached every day with a bright smile, certainly not without care, but as nonchalant as a Jedi might be able to while remaining competitive with the others.

But those times will not be coming back any time soon.

>>What words of comfort and/or wisdom do you have to offer?
“Obsessing over everything, no matter how small, is a pitfall that leads to paranoia. Try to relax.” [Caution.]
>“You were right to be concerned. You showed maturity beyond what your peers had displayed.” [Praise]
>“You shouldn’t worry too much. Whatever happens, will happen, as it is the will of the Force.” [Determinist]
>Custom option. [Write-in]

[VOTE OPEN FOR 10 HOURS]

>>4686253
Mostly picked for Kashyyk's feelings towards the Empire. In the timeline, we'd be I'd say...just a little over a month, maybe a month and a half since Order 66. A handful of days to get from Nariza to Amagi, then at least three days for the Slave Revolution. A few days to recover from the Storyteller and outfit the Albatross. Two weeks to undertake the Trial of Spirit on Kakarit and return. Four days for all of this.

So roughly a month after Order 66, unless my math's off or I've forgotten something.

The events in "The Rise of Darth Vader" novel are currently happening. Das Jennir and Bomo Greenbark are going through the events of their "Dark Times" comic. Obi-Wan just dropped Luke off with the Larrs and is about to investigate the Tusken Raider attacks in his "Kenobi" novel. Construction has begun on the first Death Star. The Conclave on Kessel is about to happen. But going back to the picture, the Battle of Kashyyyk is soon coming.
>>
>>4686269
>>“You were right to be concerned. You showed maturity beyond what your peers had displayed.” [Praise]
A bit of paranoia is pretty healthy in this situation and it’s not like paranoia wasn’t helpful in getting us the hell out of known space
>>
>>4686269
>“You were right to be concerned. You showed maturity beyond what your peers had displayed.” [Praise]
>"As long as you don't let your caution lead to being paralyzed when the time comes to do the right thing, it's always good to keep your eyes open to potential danger. Especially in times like these."
>>
>>4686269
>“You were right to be concerned. You showed maturity beyond what your peers had displayed.” [Praise]
>"As long as you don't let your caution lead to being paralyzed when the time comes to do the right thing, it's always good to keep your eyes open to potential danger. Especially in times like these."
>>
>>4686269
>Hug the two little tykes
>"Worrying is one way to be mature and have initiative to improve. But never forget how far you've already come, both in your own accomplishments, and in what you can do by working together." [Praise]
>>
>>4686269
>You were right to be concerned. You showed maturity beyond what your peers had displayed.” [Praise]
And add something along the lines of: "Do not let worry become fear or panic, a jedi must stay calm. Caution is a good thing, but it can easily grow in to a tumor of chaos in your mind
>>
>>4686269
>>“You were right to be concerned. You showed maturity beyond what your peers had displayed.” [Praise]
>>"As long as you don't let your caution lead to being paralyzed when the time comes to do the right thing, it's always good to keep your eyes open to potential danger. Especially in times like these."
>>
Apologies for the delay. It’s finals week and I’m crunching my last projects for the winter quarter. I’ll try and post sometning or intermittent snips, but we should be back to normal posting after this week. Thank you for your patience.
>>
>>4687446
You've got us wrapped around your finger kaz, you can do what you want with us, all for more content.
>>
>>4687446
All good boss. Gives us time to think about padawans. Also, I wonder what happened to Ahsoka in the Kazverse GFFA? I thought her inclusion in >>4669695 was very sneaky.
>>
>>4687706
Until further notice, probably safe to assume it carried out much like it did in canon.
>>
>>4687920
This is legends, with an incredibly small bit of Mousecanon. I wouldn't expect anything from Disney's revived Clone Wars, which is entirely incompatible with the Legends continuity. For Ahsoka, that means no Siege of Mandalore and no inhibitor chips, which puts a rather large dampener on her post-Jedi activities. If I was to speculate on what could be there instead, there was a Legends story about Ahsoka working with Castilla while Anakin was off somewhere. Perhaps post-Purge she went to the Altisian Jedi for safety, as they have a record of harboring their own and lack some of the flaws the mainline order did. They also have a large mobile HQ, so they're pretty safe.
>>
I'm more interested in things like the Teepo Paladins, Antarian Rangers, Sunguard, etc. than Disney stuff. I do like the idea of the Five Syndicates with an unofficial sixth though.

We could potentially use the Miraluka youngling's visions to metagame a bit and find Jedi enclaves before the Empire...
>>
>>4690187
Ventress killed most of the Sun Guard during the war, I believe. The Teepo Paladins went the way as the rest of the Order, at least officially. Laranth is on Coruscant with Jax, but meeting her would require us going into the heart of the lion's den, which we currently have no reason to do. Antarian Rangers are still around doing rebel stuff though. And while we're on the subject of obscure force-using organizations, the Blazing Chain, large band of force sensitive pirates, operates in the Unknown Regions, which is where we are.

Regarding Ceyla's visions and finding Enclaves before the Empire, I got the sense that she lacks fine control over her foresight. Her sense abilities are strong for a youngling, as evidenced by her finding Joz and Nujem, but I don't think she could use them on a galactic scale or induce a prophetic vision on her own. At least not yet.
>>
File: Luaine Natani.jpg (331 KB, 1200x1200)
331 KB
331 KB JPG
>>4686274
>>4686275
>>4686325
>>4686327
>>4686366
>>4686381

“You were right to be concerned,” you say matter-of-factly, smoothing the pleat of your robes, “You showed maturity beyond what your peers had displayed.”

Ritho visibly brightens, not quite preening or otherwise acting too pridefully, but still happy with the praise you direct her way. Yet Parn visibly wilts, inferring the unspoken, other end of your statement. He hadn’t been responsible on the Chiller. Far from it, in all honesty.
Still, his performance in the ravine had been far beyond the call of any youngling his age. There is that mark in his favor.

Both of them are surprised when they discover you aren’t finished. “As long as you don’t let caution paralyze your decision-making at the crucial moment, it’s always good to keep your eyes open to potential danger. Especially in these times, now more than ever.”

It might be hypocritical to say that, admittedly. Master Larid’s paranoia had been the stuff of legends and headaches, but mostly the latter. Then again, his paranoia had more often than not been justified in the long years of his apprenticeship. Could it be really called paranoia if his guts had been spot-on about all those bad feelings?

“Never forget how far you’ve come,” you say, calling to mind the discussion you had with Kreia. Her quote about false modesty still rattles in between your ears. The wording is a bit wonky, but you think you have the gist of what she was trying to convey. “Never forget your accomplishments, and what the two of you can do together.”

Ritho looks confused, but nods in hesitant understanding. However, her companion takes your words differently. Parn still looks uncertain, but he’s no longer crestfallen about his carefree behavior. He’ll be fine, you think to yourself as the three of you finish your discussion.

They depart, but not before you give them…well, as close to a hug as you can. A comforting pat on the shoulder of the nautolian, and a friendly tousling of the boy’s hair. You tell them to return to the prefab, and to send the last trio of younglings right after them. The weight on your heart is lifted as you see tired, but ultimately contented smiles on their faces as they descend out of the Albatross

>>Line Break

You don’t have to wait too long. The last of the eligible younglings waste little time in coming up the ramp of the Albatross. Vuqu Dahe greets you with a polite nod, then takes a moment to examine the inner workings of the mess hall. Ceyla Vikol bows as is the custom of her people, easing herself into her seat. Luaine Natani meets your gaze, hesitant but ultimately deferential as she inclines her head.

It’s with wariness that you behold the trio. There isn’t a single one who isn’t bandaged, bruised or otherwise bearing injuries. Nothing terribly serious or debilitating, but it would take a week or two for their wounds to heal.

(cont.)
>>
File: Vuqu Dahe.jpg (41 KB, 403x512)
41 KB
41 KB JPG
Vuqu is the first to break the silence, clearing her throat and jerking her head upwards. And in a flat voice, intones, “Master Larid wouldn’t have let us go if he thought we were too injured.”

There’s no missing the way Luaine’s eyes roll at that particular statement. But the girl clears her throat, “Yeah…yeah! Honestly? You should see the Tof. For a bunch of hulking thugs, they really can’t take what they dish out.”

You allow yourself a small smile. If all prior accounts are any indication, then you’d certainly believe that. “What a Jedi can dish out is very different than what the scum of the galaxy can conjure.” A pause as you take a moment to let the levity out of your voice. “You kids doing alright, then?”

Ceyla nods, errantly scratching the bandages around her eyes, beneath the silver mask around her head. “Yes, thank you for asking, Farr…Master Farren. Nothing too serious.”

“Good to hear. How’s your eyes doing? I heard you gave the others a bit of a scare.”

She hesitates for a moment, and you can almost hear the cogs turning as she tries to find the right words. “…better. I haven’t had any more visions, self-induced or otherwise.”

Something to look into later. You pour each of them a glass of water, this time having to stretch further to accommodate their seating. Which is…unusual to say the least.

Vuqu sips on her water at the furthest end of the table, eyes focused solely upon the inner workings of the ship. In turn, the raven-haired girl opposite of her doesn’t pay the mirialan much attention. Instead, Luaine focuses the brunt of her gaze alternating between you and Ceyla as the miraluka brings the glass to her lips.

…ah, that’s…right. Prior to their ill-planned rescue mission, there had been mention of some sort of altercation involving the three of them. Details had been sparse. The younglings hadn’t been there; they’d only seen how Master Aure reacted. Master Larid didn’t fare much better, as he had been en-route from Coruscant when everything had happened. By the time he'd gotten back to Amagi, his contemporary was already leading troops in the invasion of the Chiller.

It seems that even having survived perhaps the most dangerous few days of their lives, there’s still some lingering tension between them.

>>What will you do?
>Leap straight into their accounting of their infiltration of the Tof Outpost.
>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.

[VOTE OPEN FOR NINE HOURS]

Done with finals. We now return to the "usual" schedule of posting.
>>
>>4691541
>>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.
Might as well start with the beginning. Glad to have you back boss, hope finals weren't too rough.
>>
>>4691541
>>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.
>>
>>4691541
>>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.
>>
>>4691541
>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.

We have the time
>>
>>4691541
>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.
>>
Voting with the consensus
>>
>>4691541
>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.
>>
>>4691541
>Take a moment to ask about the fight they started in the youngling prefab.
>>
I dunno about you fellas, but I would like to make friends with a Gand.
>>
>>4691553
>>4691584
>>4691605
>>4691633
>>4691704
>>4691901
>>4691977
>>4692030

All three of them jerk still, surprised at the sudden change in topic. You offer no other words, merely pouring yourself another glass of water. It goes down your throat, smooth and easy, as you regard the younglings with little more than a mild expression conveying an unspoken question.

“I…fail to see the logic in this line of questioning,” says Vuqu with an uneasy expression. Her fingers drum on the table in an uneven rhythm. “We thought you were here to debrief us on what happened on the Chiller.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important,” you state neutrally. “You’re right that it doesn’t have anything immediately to do with the Chiller. But your little fight did precede the events on that planet. And I’m curious if that had any impact on your attitudes going into your rescue mission.”

Not to mention the fact that you’re on the prowl for your potential padawan. But you aren’t going to mention that, even if you have an inkling suspicion that they know you’re vetting them. In this instance, the quiet part that both parties wish to not be acknowledged, will be left undisturbed.

The girls on either end of the table aren’t able to answer right away. It is with an irritated huff and a roll of non-existent eyes that Ceyla spills the beans. “…it was a couple of days before we left for the Chiller. We’d just finished the day’s exercises. Luaine and I were going to go for a walk before curfew…”

One might suspect her of bias considering her friendship with Luaine. But Ceyla gives an account that merely states the facts, even if she’s unable to suppress her emotions. Recounting the words that Vuqu had given Luaine prompts a scowl, but not as much anger as you’d thought.

Her tone displays irritation at digging up an old memory. Not the sort of wroth of a fresh wound. Perhaps she’d gotten over her dislike of the mirialan in their soiree into the outpost.

Regardless, you have as full a picture as you can get of the situation. Luaine had behaved in an unacceptable manner, losing her temper and responding with violence at provocation. But it would be grossly negligent of you to not castigate blame upon Vuqu. The human girl had thrown the first punch, but from what Ceyla recalled, she wouldn’t have thrown it had it not been for her words.

And that wasn’t even going into the mess of Vuqu’s “social suicide” and manipulative tendencies, on top of the insecure, self-loathing cocktail that was Luaine. Granted, it had been a few days ago. Things might’ve changed since then…you sincerely hope. For their sakes.

“I think I’m beginning to see what happened.” You give each of them a pointed glance, huffing slightly. It isn’t meant to be judgmental, but it doesn’t stop them from reacting as if it had been. Ceyla cringes, and even Vuqu isn't able to remain unflappable.

(cont.)
>>
But Luaine’s eyes flash with undisguised bitterness. “…what do you want me to say, Farren? That I lost my temper? That it wasn’t becoming of a Jedi? I know all of that! Master Aure made sure as hell I knew that when she-”

“Lu,” warned Ceyla, gripping her arm tightly, hard enough on her injuries to make Luaine wince. The miralukan girl shakes her head.

Her gaze softens, and the energy bleeds out of Luaine. The girl grits her teeth, exhaling a rough breath as she massages the side of her temple. She barely manages a despondent whisper: “…I’m sorry, Farren. It’s…been a stressful couple of days.”

Of that, you don’t doubt in the slightest, and you don’t bother to amend the informal use of your name. For a moment, Vuqu might’ve opened her mouth, but she wisely keeps it shut. Her silence has nothing to do with the dry look you lever at her. Nothing at all…

But you seize upon that, pressing further: “Master Aure already spoke to you about this, then?”
Vuqu shrugs. The mechanic intones, “Perhaps it would be more correct to say ‘yelled’. That aside, she did speak with us about it.”

That certainly sounds about right, given what Kristen had told you about her master. But you aren’t about to lose yourself in thought. “What in all the Force prompted you to say such things?”
She actually shifts, uncomfortable as she takes a large gulp of her water. “It seemed…logical at the time.”

“Logical?” you query, equally perplexed and troubled. “You let her split your lip and punch you into a workbench just so she could let out some steam?”

“Clearly…that had been a mistake,” she admits, “But all of my deductions and observations were indicative of an inability to both balance her own insecurities about becoming a padawan-”

Ceyla finally loses her composure, snarling in the place of her despondent friend. “Oh, blow it out your ass, Dahe. Logic this, logic that…”

“At the time!” she counters fiercely, “In the wake of the events on the Chiller, I’ve come to reconsider several of my positions-”

“Oh, really? That's one funny way to offer an apology-”

Luaine finally snaps out of her stupor, leveling a smoldering glare in her direction. "Hey, look. I saved your life-"

"For which I am grateful, but the fact remains-"

“Enough,” you ground out, shutting them all into silence before another argument can break out.

>>Choose one:
>Chastise Luaine for losing her temper and punching Vuqu. Her anger is a weakness that the Dark Side might exploit and prey upon.
>Scold Vuqu for deliberately provoking Luaine. That level of emotional manipulation is what you’d expect from a Dark Side adept.
>Refrain from chastising either of them. If Aure already read them the riot act, then there’s no need for further disciplinary action.
>Custom option. [Write-in]

[VOTE OPEN FOR SEVEN HOURS]
>>
>>4694548
>Custom option. [Write-in]
Don't really chastise either, but perhaps offer some advice on better ways to handle it in the future? Given how long we've been Larid's padawan, you KNOW we're masters of keeping frustration locked down. And as for the emotional manipulation...well, she knows what she did was wrong, but instead of just saying "don't do that", maybe point out some better ways it could have been handled? I'm tired as hell right now, so sorry that it's all vague, but hopefully this is a decent start for someone to work from?
>>
>>4694552
+1
>>
>>4694548
I don't want to scold them when they've already had it, but the way they're talking about it...
>To Vuqu: Emotional Manipulation is not a tool lightly used, at least not by Jedi. We have more civilized tools. Like talking. You might consider it logical to play to your strengths and neglect your weaknesses, but that will only leave you lacking in experience and options. There will be times when the best choice is one you are not confident in, and in those times you must put your trust in the Force.
>To Luaine: You are not alone. We have lost much, in very little time, but never forget this.
>>
>>4694548
Supporting >>4694552
>>
>>4694548
>To Vuqu: Emotional Manipulation is not a tool lightly used, at least not by Jedi. We have more civilized tools. Like talking. You might consider it logical to play to your strengths and neglect your weaknesses, but that will only leave you lacking in experience and options. There will be times when the best choice is one you are not confident in, and in those times you must put your trust in the Force.
>To Luaine: You are not alone. We have lost much, in very little time, but never forget this.
>>
>>4694560
Support, its not exactly what i'd say but i can't seem to translate my thoughts to text here
>>
>>4694552
+1
>>
>>4694677
Shit, meant to support >>4694560
My bad.
>>
>>4694560
+1
>>
I'm glad the write ins don't mention the Dark Side/Adept like the initial choices and actually try to work through the issue. I always felt it was ironic that the Jedi consistently chastise their padawans that "X leads to the Dark Side" which stokes the less experienced padawan's fear of turning. Fear seems like a stronger gateway to the Dark Side than any personality quirks.

I might be generalizing though, I've only seen the movies and played some of the games.
>>
>>4695068
To quote Yoda, "Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering." It's one of the main things that was different in the philosophy of the NJO. I've been thinking about how Laird and Farren might change their teaching methods to address the faults of the Old Order, the shadows seem like the best people to diagnose what was wrong with things.
>>
>>4695243
I always of the thing the old black jedi in kotor says about love, how love isnt what pushes you to the dark side but it is what saves you from it. Its passion or something like that, that pushes you to the dark side.
>>
>>4695767
>trusting autistic space wizard monks to be able to properly analyze and handle emotions
Bindo was pretty based though, for a Jedi.
>>
File: Luaine_01.png (689 KB, 1350x1800)
689 KB
689 KB PNG
>>4694560
>>4694595
>>4694679
>>4694734
>>4694580

Fearmongering isn’t going to do anyone any favors. The three of them are still fresh off the Chiller. While someone else might traditionally fall back to the argument of restraint against the Dark Side, you decide to buck tradition and apply a softer(?) touch.
It’s still definitely a scolding, no matter how you cut it…albeit not necessarily flavored with too much Jedi philosophy.

Turning to Luaine, you rumble, “…you are not alone. We have lost much, in so very little time, but never forget this.”

She shakes her head, hesitantly venturing, “I know that…it’s just…argh, it’s so stupid, but-”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips, and you offer a humorless chortle. “I made padawan at thirteen. But I was only made a Jedi Knight four days ago, when so many of my peers in the Temple made Knighthood sooner. Especially when the Clone Wars really took off. The Council was handing out Knighthood left and right to match Kamino’s export of clones.”

Much to the detriment of several who’d fallen in battle due to a lack of training. Yet your former friend is perhaps the most striking exception to that, and flourished in the war. But you don’t linger on it for too long, continuing, “Master Larid had his reasons, and I never feared banishment to the Service Corps. But I’d be lying if I said that it wasn’t…frustrating at times.”

Luaine audibly swallows. “I…really?”

You nod. “Really. So, I hope that you believe me when I say that it isn’t empty words or hollow sympathy when I say that you aren’t alone. Be it in friends or your own internal struggles.” You pause, recalling something from what felt like an age ago. “Did you know that Master Rahm Kota was eighteen when he became a Jedi Padawan under Master Yoda?”

The human girl isn’t the only one who has an outburst. All three of the girls’ eyes go wide, and as one, shout, “Eighteen?!”

“Granted, that was a special case…” you admit, wincing at how the noise bounces off the metal surfaces of the ship, “A very special case that even I don’t have the details for. You’d have better luck asking Master Larid as to how that got past the radar. But I digress. I trust that even if I didn’t immediately change your perspective, I’ve given you something to think about, Luaine.”

She nods, uncharacteristically shy as all the attention turns on her. “Ah…yes. I’ll definitely keep that in mind. Thank you, Far…” Luaine catches herself at the last moment, coughing harshly as she corrects herself. “Thank you, Master Farren.”

…that’s going to take some time to get used to. To think it’s what you’d craved for the better part of twelve years, and yet it fits you no differently than new boots that need breaking in. And then, of course, her cognition. It will be a time before either of you are comfortable in your title and her internal thinking.

(cont.)
>>
>>4695767
>>4695788
Bindo was a grey Jedi not a council Jedi. Honestly the grey Jedi always seemed the most sensible ones to me
>>
>>4695882
They're just as bad in their own ways. Fuck da Fours embrace Mando
>>
>>4695882
Stagnation is death.
>>
>>4695882
Grey Jedi is a broad, overused term. Jolee and someone like Qui-Gon, for example, are both considered grey jedi yet have almost wholly conflicting philosophies.
>>
Kaz, your writing is exceptional and Farren is an amazing protagonist on account of the characterization you've developed for him.

To the other anons, who should Torok's padawan be? Blueberry's? Koon's? The masters can handle whoever else we don't pick.
>>
>>4696789
I made this list here >>4681188 a thread ago. There's some reasoning for that sort of thing and I do think it should factor into our choice. I plan on making an updated version once we finish our conversations. Picking a padawan for Sha is hard, there isn't a ton of content with her in it. Hard to get a handle on her, aside from "vader-obsessed."
>>
>>4695882
Grey Jedi are not sustainable.
Historically speaking, they fall to dark side easier than any other form of force practitioner, which is why there's so few of them.

It's not that they're an overlooked "correct answer", it's that if they were the correct answer, they'd have grown more prominent across the generations, rather than dwindled and vanished to thin air.

Being a Grey Jedi doesn't make you a sensible person, but rather the exact opposite. To be a Grey Jedi, you need the strength of character to be able to remain uncorrupted without strict adherence to the Jedi code, meanwhile any idiot who remains true to jedi dogma is fairly resilient to being corrupted.
>>
>>4695882
Issue with Grey Jedi is that rather than being an overlooked answer to the question of Dark Side corruption, historically speaking, they have been the worst answer to it.

Being a Grey Jedi doesn't mean you gain the strength of character to resist the dark side, but rather that in order to be a Grey Jedi which can resist the dark side, you need the strength of character necessary to do so even without their teachings.
This is why students of Grey Jedi tend to fall to the Dark side all the time.

Meanwhile with the Jedi teachings, any idiot who follows their dogma like it's gospel can remain uncorrupted most of the time, which is why the Jedi code persists.
>>
>>4697260
>>4697265
You are right about some things, like some Grey Jedi's students falling to the dark side. The Dark Woman and Aurra Sing come to mind. However, Grey Jedi are less prominent not because they don't survive or are corrupted or can't otherwise pass on their teachings, but because the Jedi Order is so effective at their indoctrination, for lack of a better term. The hyperstrict adherence to the code that the old order advocated for is what kept the numbers of Grey or Dark Jedi down. The Clone Wars changed things because it shone a light onto the hypocrisy, stagnation, and all around degeneration of the Order. Before it, most of the Jedi never questioned what they were taught because there was no reason to.
>>
>>4697274
Exactly, add to this that grey jedi arent a united front. Like another anon said, qui gonn and bindo where both grey jedi, but as different as muslims and buddhists. I personally think being a 'grey' jedi would be the correct philosophy, because it is what aligns with my personal philosophy the most.
I love my tendies too much to be a proper emotionless jedi
>>
>>4697274
>>4697604
In my opinion Luke's NJO had it best. He found that perfect balance between emotions and being human and the force.
Too bad it felt like they were started to stagnate again in Legacy before the One Sith wiped them out.
>>
>>4697807
While their methods and training where a lot better than the old jedi order, they still fell into the trap of being too political. Being attached at the hip to the New Republic/Galactic Alliance I feel caused a lot of problems, especially when the Galactic Alliance went ahead with installing former imperial admirals as heads of state.
>>
>>4697807
I agree with this, the NJO's philosophy was the quote/unquote "best." The Je'daii philosophy was as grey as you could get, even split between light and dark, Potentium and the Way of the Dark are both foolish, it's too easy to lose control with the Sith, and too stifling to maintain it with the classical Jedi. My knowledge of the Legacy era is somewhat lacking, but I'm inclined to agree. They didn't get quite as bad as the OJO, but they could've been better. Luke's leadership must've been a tough act to follow.

>>4697950
That's true too. Though it's hard to separate too much from a government that your leader's sister (who is also part of the order) once lead herself. I think old habits died hard, when your Grand Master, his family, and the first graduating class are supporters of the New Republic and Rebel war heroes, staying apolitical is hard. I think that was going to change, the seeds were planted in LotF and FotJ but then we had the buyout.
>>
>>4669323
WOW THIS CAME BACK WHY DID NOBODY TELL ME

[s]I need to stalk twitter better[/s]
>>
>>4697963
>I think that was going to change, the seeds were planted in LotF and FotJ but then we had the buyout.
Yeah, by Legacy Era the Jedi and the Alliance/Empire seemed seperate. The Empire even had their own order of super elite force using troops.
>>
>>4698260
The Imperial Knights, I know that much. Would've been interesting to see Jaina or Tahiri found them, or maybe Luke started an enclave in Imperial space and they got co-opted.
>>
>>4698024
Caught up and, apparently, we've been at (cont.) for two days now?
>>
File: tfw_tallying_votes.png (267 KB, 728x410)
267 KB
267 KB PNG
>>4698294
Admittedly, I've been having a bit of writer's block for Vuqu's segment. Not that it's inherently difficult to write her, but meshing the write-in and creating dialogue that flows naturally and advances character development without it being too forced or drastic is...taking me a little while longer. Nearly finished though.

>>4696789
Thanks for the praise, Anon. Glad to hear you're enjoying the quest.
>>
File: Miralan Youngling.jpg (122 KB, 1200x1697)
122 KB
122 KB JPG
>>4695851
“You’re welcome,” you reply, even as you quash thoughts of questions in regards to the Jedi Code. And a slew of other emotional quandaries you haven’t nearly enough time to deliberate.

Now, for Vuqu…Force, where do you even begin with this one? And judging from how both Luaine and Ceyla turn towards the mirialan, it seems that they’re curious to see how this is going to play out. The girl in question tries and is ultimately unable to maintain a disaffected, cool air.

But you take a deep breath and steel yourself as you rip off the band-aid. “…emotional manipulation isn’t something that’s lightly used. Especially not by Jedi. We have more civilized tools, Vuqu, and I’m not talking about lightsabers.”

“…and those would be?” she asks.

…deep breaths. It’s very, very tempting to just grab her by the shoulders and show the fine distinction between emotional manipulation and sadistic callousness. But you don’t. Mostly because it's more likely than not that Master Aure had already done that.

Still, it’s hard not to deadpan. "Talking, for one thing. There’s nothing wrong with being logical, or otherwise playing to your strengths and neglecting your weaknesses. But that’s only going to leave you lacking in experience and other options.”

Vuqu frowns. “I…don’t understand. I’m fairly well-rounded with, if not beginning to dabble in, a broad range of skills beyond Jedi talents. Droid and mechanical repairs, for example.”

And there it is. The cold calculus, albeit not nearly as frosty as it apparently had been when she’d goaded Luaine into punching her. That aside…

“Your…concern for your fellow youngling shouldn’t come at the expense of alienating yourself. Certainly, there weren’t any senior Jedi around for you to talk to, but I’d hope that the next time you try to do something like that, you’ll give us advance warning and any concerns you have.”

Unspoken is the fact that it isn’t exactly her place to go gaslighting her fellow younglings while she herself currently is one…hold on, that came out wrong. Hastily coughing, you add, “What I mean to say is that sometimes, the best choice isn’t the one you’re most confident in.”

The terrified faces of the Tof viceroy and his family flash before your eyes, backlit by the menacing glow of Torok’s lightsaber. “Or the easiest one, for that matter…”

“I…see,” she hesitantly offers. “In that case, what would have been the best choice?”

Before Ceyla can snark off something along the lines of “keeping your mouth shut”, you cast her a withering glare. The miraluka flushes, suddenly finding something interesting either on the floor or on her boots. A fact made all the more impressive given her species' hereditary blindness. Not that anyone else besides yourself and Luaine notice.

The answer’s relatively simple. “…in those times, you must place your trust in the Force.”

(cont.)
>>
You get the niggling feeling that Kreia might have disapproved with that last particular bit. The enigmatic woman had gone out of her way to harshly condemn passiveness or apathy. But trusting in the Force isn’t necessarily apathetic, per se.

That said, the notion of “surrendering to the Force” is an entirely different beast. That particular belief advocated by many in the Order never quite settled well in your stomach. Even before consulting the holocron, the notion of predeterminism wasn’t an idea you were keen on. Idleness is anathema to the Shadows.

Now more than ever.

From the way Vuqu’s brow furrows, it seems that she isn’t nearly too sold on the idea. Yet there’s a thoughtfulness that hadn’t been there before. There’s something to work with. But just to steer her in the right direction, you add, “I suggest getting out of your workshop more often. Consider it an exercise in overcoming one of your weaknesses.”

A straightforward challenge, even if you don’t make it mandatory. The mirialan’s eyes focus more sharply, and Vuqu nods. “Very well. That logic is sound enough.”

Luaine’s audible facepalm speaks for nearly everyone in the room. Still…it does pull a tired grin at the corner of your mouth. Baby steps it seems.

>>Line Break

“Don’t worry!” Crantz said, even as Ceyla glared daggers into him, “It’s mostly frozen anyway!”

“Easy for him to say,” muttered Luaine angrily, igniting her lightsaber. The icy wind made it hard to sweat, but she still exerted as she cut a hole through the sewage grate. “He isn’t…the one sneaking through…mounds of Tof shit.”

Even though he wasn’t part of the infiltration team, Joz looked equally disgusted. “Whose idea was this again?”

“His,” Vuqu answered in a placid, neutral tone, begrudgingly helping to clear the bars that Luaine had already severed. “And it makes enough sense, regretfully. Although he didn’t quite have to necessarily use holovid movies as ‘irrefutable proof they always expect spies from the air ducts.’”

The pilot rolled his eyes. “Gaelle and his other Jedi friend did the same thing during the uprising, kid. Snuck in through the sewers and worked their way up the palace.”

True enough. But that was Farren being Farren, the Jedi Shadow. Sneaking around for fun was something plenty of them had done, mostly to dodge chores or pull pranks. Nothing of this sort of caliber, where the slightest misstep would’ve invited death, or worse.

“…you’re just really lucky…” Ceyla’s nostrils flared, and she gagged as the tunnel almost seemed to exhale, blowing an invisible cloud of noxious vapor across the group. “…no, I take it back. Even if we have spare robes back in the shuttle…”

“Hot baths, hot baths, hot baths…” muttered Luaine as she pinched her nose shut and widened the hole. “Once they take the Chiller, no more sonic showers…”


(cont.)
>>
Similar to you and Torok had infiltrated the Opulent Palace, the away team had decided to send its main spies in through the sewers of the outpost. Exhaust ports were out of the question. And the air ducts, while barely large enough for children of their size, carried too much of a chance of being discovered.

Not to mention that Crantz was right, even if his reasoning came from out of left field. While cinematically pleasing, one tended to make an absolute racket in air ducts, no matter their size or weight. That was one of the first myths about spy-hood that Master Larid had dispelled for you.

But you digress. The away team had split up. Once they found the insertion point for the trio, located at the base of an overlooking cliff, Joz and Crantz had returned to the transport. They had synchronized their watches, giving the girls a good two hours to make their way through the sewers and into the base proper. At the end of those two hours, the duo was going to make one hell of a racket on the Tof’s doorstep.

“The green bastards are hedonists,” Crantz spat, offering a warning before he left. “Without a shred of self-preservation. Once we kick at their door, they’ll all be chomping at the bit to be the ones to cover themselves in glory…and our guts. Wouldn’t be surprised if the garrison commander and only his elite guard sallied out just for the sheer sport of it.”

He shakes his head, giving the three younglings a solemn, pained look. “…I wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t have a choice. I’d crawl in that shithole if I could. But I can’t, and it churns my guts something awful to send three girls into their midst.”

“Why?” grunted Luaine as she hefted up her backpack. “You, Joz and the other two were able to do well enough before we came here.”

A pause. Crantz grits his teeth, shaking his head as if to rid himself of fleas or bad thoughts. His fist tightens on his rifle, and he has to take several breaths (but not too deep on account of cracked ribs) before he’s able to speak.

“…the Tof are the kind of people to bet on how well a dancer can perform after the loss of a leg,” the pilot bitterly intones. Even as Ceyla puts a hand to her mouth, and Joz and Vuqu look on in revulsion, he doesn’t stop. “…or wager how an acrobat might faire rope-to-rope while dodging laser fire from the audience. I was a cabby for one of them, and I still have nightmares of taking them to the carnival..."

The girl nods sharply, flashing her teeth in fierce determination as she palms her lightsaber. “They’ll be getting what they deserve, then.”

“No.” The rebuttal comes sharp and harsh. “Do not pick a fight unless you absolutely have to. We got our vengeance when Gaelle and the Supreme Archon threw the viceroy’s wife and some of her children to the mob.”

“…all children over the age of fourteen.” It doesn’t come as a rebuke, but Ceyla doesn’t bother hiding her unease.


(cont.)
>>
File: Mern Ugtek.jpg (45 KB, 564x451)
45 KB
45 KB JPG
The pilot turned his head so quickly that he might’ve given himself whiplash. “You don’t get it, girl. It’s in their culture. Gorging themselves on food and drink, indulging a reckless lust for females regardless of age, treating war no differently than a competitive sport…it’s all a game to them. Anything that isn’t a Tof lives and dies at the whims of their fancy or the sake of their twisted amusement.”

The younglings were stunned. They didn’t know how to respond. The Jedi were no stranger to reports pouring in from the Clone Wars, reports that described the atrocities committed by the Separatists. Not all among them were as noble as Count Dooku. One needn’t look further than General Grievous, or the unscrupulous Admiral Trench.

Even the Hutt Clans and the most repulsive criminal organizations operating in the Outer Rim…at least they had been motivated by money. The Separatists, flawed or violent as a few of their more prominent members had been, waged an ideological war based on what they perceived as corruption. Those motives, they could understand.

But this was a level of savagery and barbarity that they’d never even dreamed or imagined of.

Crantz laughs bitterly. “Sure, most of the children and their guts are strung up and still rotting on the parapet of the Freedomspire. But the Supreme Archon has Merna Ugtek keeping his laundry folded and his bed warm. And the rest of her younger siblings are in ‘rehabilitation.’ Waste of time and resources if you ask me.

“The four of us…me, Stern and the kids,” he gestured towards Joz, “…it’s different for us when we fought them in the caves. We’re all male. I don’t need to say it, but I’m going to, just so you know the stakes.”

His rant ended with a heavy breath, and the obvious discomfort of the younglings. But he shook his head, almost apologetically as he cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t have approved of this if it wasn’t for that sensory ability of the blind one. So, you better keep those ears of yours peeled while you search for the communications room. If you absolutely have to fight, then fight. And don’t waste any time dawdling once you cut the jammer.

“But the moment things start taking a turn for the worse…” his voice turned grave, as serious as it’s ever been. “You better have a way out. It can be an open window over a bank of snow, or just putting that laser sword of yours underneath your chin and flipping the switch. Because during the twelve years I was their captive, I can say as a fact that it’s better to be dead than to be a living, female slave of the Tof.”


>>Due to their size, Ceyla, Luaine and Vuqu combine their Stealth to 3d6.
>>Because of Ceyla’s sensory ability, the first Critical Failure is automatically ignored.

>>Please roll me 3d6+2 Stealth
>>Best out of three.
>>
Rolled 2, 4, 6 + 2 = 14 (3d6 + 2)

>>4698468
>>
Rolled 2, 3, 5 + 2 = 12 (3d6 + 2)

>>4698468
Hm. Must've been the wind.
>>
Rolled 4, 5, 3 + 2 = 14 (3d6 + 2)

>>4698468
Huh? What was that noise?
>>
>>4698468
Plip plop
>>
>>4698474
CHILLER BELONGS TO THE TOF
>>
>>4698437
I can't believe Vuqu doesn't get it to this degree. I didn't think I could be MORE direct.
>>
>>4698594
she's /ourautist/ and honestly probably the most suited for becoming a Jedi Shadow honestly
>>
>>4698594
I'm honestly tempted to vote to take her just on the basis that we need to teach her how to be a person. Granted, she was a frontrunner of mine anyway, but still.
>>
Rolled 4, 4, 2 + 2 = 12 (3d6 + 2)

>>4698468

Let's see if I still remember how this works...
>>
>>4698604
Quite the opposite. As Master Larid displayed in any number of occasions already, Shadows need to be keenly attuned to the social cues around them and ready to put on a play at a moment's notice. The autist can go with Torok and fix his spaceship, and we'll all be happier without having to teach Ms. Logic how people work and why, as a rule, they *don't* follow logic.
>>
>>4698669
>Implying the stone cold autist would want to be apprenticed to an impulsive hothead
>Implying he knows what "we all" want
Vuqu was aware that Luaine and Ceyla weren't going to like what she did, she just didn't care because the upside was more important than the downside. Besides, it doesn't matter what raw material our padawan (whoever we pick) gives us to work with. Our job is to make them the best shadow possible. We'd need to teach them how to schmooze anyway, Vuqu would just need more work. In any case, that was what the old Shadows did. Now, we're in the position the Dark Jedi we hunted were, that of an outcast and criminal. As a shadow, we can either start hunting down Dark Side Adepts, Inquisitors, and the like, or we can track down Jedi before the Empire does. In either case, sociability isn't what'll help us the most.
>>
>>4698709
>Besides, it doesn't matter what raw material our padawan (whoever we pick) gives us to work with. Our job is to make them the best shadow possible.

If it didn't matter we wouldn't be having this discussion in the first place, we could just RNG a padawan and go from there.

>Now, we're in the position the Dark Jedi we hunted were, that of an outcast and criminal.

Yeah, and that's exactly why now more than ever we need to be able to blend in with people. Heck, just her being Mirialan is a problem, non-humans are currently being persecuted by the Empire everywhere and it's one more thing that makes her stand out. We Do Not Want To Stand Out.
>>
>>4698750
>Yeah, and that's exactly why now more than ever we need to be able to blend in with people. Heck, just her being Mirialan is a problem, non-humans are currently being persecuted by the Empire everywhere and it's one more thing that makes her stand out. We Do Not Want To Stand Out.

In my opinion, Ceyla will need our tutelage more. Because while non-humans are being persecuted by the Empire, Miralukans are known to be universally Force-sensitive, so learning how to hide in plain sight would be a crucial survival skill for her. All the others can just ditch their lightsabers and not use their powers to blend in in an emergency, hiding functional sight despite vestigial eye sockets is a bit more challenging.
>>
>>4698750
>If it didn't matter we wouldn't be having this discussion in the first place, we could just RNG a padawan and go from there.
Wrong. The current skills of the padawans don't matter. It is our job to train them in the skills of a shadow. Where they are now has no bearing on our duty. The reason there's going to be a vote is because a) this is a quest and voting is what sets it apart from fanfiction and b) some people prefer the character of one padawan over the others.

>Yeah, and that's exactly why now more than ever we need to be able to blend in with people. Heck, just her being Mirialan is a problem, non-humans are currently being persecuted by the Empire everywhere and it's one more thing that makes her stand out. We Do Not Want To Stand Out.
Being non-human is a non-issue. If you meant that, you'll vote to dump Elba and Suzel off on the next planet we visit, along with our two contraband droids. Autists exist all over the galaxy, you're grasping at straws. I'll bet you anything Vuqu isn't patient zero for autism in Mirialans.
>>
>>4698863
Her being autistic is one problem. Her being Mirialan is a second. Feel free to vote however you want, but don't pretend it's anything but bias.
>>
>>4698942
You're flat-out wrong, Anon. But I suppose I'll be seeing you vote for Parn or Luaine and then voting to recruit an entirely human crew.
>>
I feel like every padawan and even some of the Masters should get some Shadow training considering the state of the Jedi right now. It's a useful skillset in the current situation.
>>
>>4699159

>I have no argument b-b-but you're wrong!!!!

ok
>>
>>4699285
>The current skills of the padawans don't matter. It is our job to train them in the skills of a shadow. Where they are now has no bearing on our duty. The reason there's going to be a vote is because a) this is a quest and voting is what sets it apart from fanfiction and b) some people prefer the character of one padawan over the others.
Reposting this since it seems you're more retarded than previously thought.
>>
>>4699194
>Shadow training
>"Alright everyone, when someone asks if you're a Jedi, what do you say?"
>"No." "Nuh uh." "A what now?" "Yes." "I dunno?"
>"Force dammit Parn."
>>
Wait, so the Tof mostly use archaic slugthrowers right? We should get one to combat dark jedi.
>>
File: 1527861274935.png (311 KB, 963x396)
311 KB
311 KB PNG
>>4699316

>A prospective Padawan's existing skillset, character, appearance, etc don't matter, despite having been clearly outlined and showcased, because I said so
>Yes they do, that's literally the whole reason we're having this vote
>NO THEY DON'T !!!1! *autistic screeching*

Whatever you say, senpai.
>>
I think the autist is in greatest danger of actually falling to the dark side because worship of logic is essentially worship of rationalization, which in turn means she has no problems rationalizing turning to dark side when benefits outweigh the costs.

Ends become more important than means, and then it's a slippery slope to doing the shit palpatine did, because when nobody seems as logical as you, you no longer trust anyone else to have power.
>>
Likewise, she is also one of the best candidates for actually exploring the code of jedi and sith on a philosophical basis, purely on their own merits and on the longer term repercussions they have for the galaxy.
>>
>>4699916
>existing skillset
It doesn't. Because we're in charge of training them in new skills. It's a guide, perhaps even a foundation for the type of shadow they'll be, but it doesn't change what our job is.
>Character
Doesn't change our duty either. Completely personal preference. We might have to be more strict for one padawan than another, but our job is unchanged.
>Appearance
We're travelling with a wookiee (currently or soon-to-be enslaved), a tof (rarely if ever seen outside the unknown regions, a tactical droid (illegal military surplus), and a 3,500-year-old antique head. Nobody's gonna pull us over at a spaceport over Ritho or Nudjem, much less Vuqu or Ceyla.
It's like you aren't even trying. Or rather, not trying to make sense but trying way to hard to ignore what I'm saying.
>>
File: Everyfuckinthread.png (54 KB, 579x270)
54 KB
54 KB PNG
>>4699916
>>
>>4700068
Because you're literally ignoring reality, my dude. No, we aren't going to pick our Padawan solely on whether they're human or not, but it IS a factor. Their personality IS a factor. Their currently existing skills ARE factors. They are not the sum of what they will come to be after their training is over, but that's a decade in the future at best, and we'll have to deal with them all the way from now to then. Insisting that it doesn't matter that one of our prospective Padawans is literally incapable of doing people is just as retarded as insisting it doesn't matter that their skin is bright green. In short, it makes you sound just as autistic as the choice you're trying to push.
>>
>>4700161
Nowhere have I ever said that our choice in padawan doesn't matter. What I have been saying and what is irrefutably true is that our choice in padawan doesn't change our duty. And it doesn't matter if they're incapable of doing something because we are there to teach them. If you've enrolled in a calculus class, the professor isn't going to revoke your registration because you don't know calculus. Because it's their job to teach you. And if this were a setting where bright green skin was abnormal, I'd be inclined to agree with you. However, it's pretty standard. I'm also not trying to "push" any one padawan over another, you can vote to kidnap some Moff's force sensitive daughter for all I care. The points I'm trying to get through to you are as follows: 1. We, as a teacher, are to teach our future apprentice skills they lack that shadow's need, this includes people skills and 2. In a galaxy with sentient tree people and and gas-based life, nobody's going to give us an appreciable amount of shit if we're walking around with someone with green skin or headtails.
>>
>>4700176
>In a galaxy with sentient tree people and and gas-based life, nobody's going to give us an appreciable amount of shit if we're walking around with someone with green skin or headtails.

Galactic Empire & COMPNOR: "Are you sure about that?"
>>
>>4700237
In all fairness we're already have a wookie alongside us (Basically space niggers) So we already have a strange crew to begin with.
>>
>>4700240
>In all fairness we're already have a wookie alongside us (Basically space niggers)
The Gamorrean is right there man.
>>
>>4699781

Tof use a mix of slugthrowers and blaster weaponry, alongside clubs and cutlasses. Mind you, even though a Tof blaster has a flintlock mechanism, it'll still fire a laser bolt no differently than a run-of-the-mill blaster pistol. Although some Tof get large enough where they just prefer to close the distance and pummel you to death with their fists. Due to a lack of adequate weaponry for sniping, their species has a penchant for close-quarters combat, sparing enough survivors at range to ensure the fighting gets up close and personal.

Their culture is intentionally anachronistic in that regard, and that reflects in most of their equipment and/or fashion. Royals wear powdered wigs and tailored greatcoats. In the military, the lowest deckhands wear simple cloth shirts, leather vests and tunics, but the higher up the chain you go, you see starship captains wearing buccaneer boots, sparkling rings on their fingers, and heavily customized pistols with ivory inlay and engraved barrels. Interestingly enough, the Tof don't bathe, they just cover their body odor with perfumed bows on their tunics and boots.

Their shipbuilding reflects this as well. One typical ship in the Tof armada includes the Royal Fortune-class Light Clipper. Reflecting the idiosyncrasy of their builders, the 290-meter vessel has an ornamental wake-cutting hull, and energy emitters fashioned in the configuration of sails. They're surprisingly nimble, easily able to out-maneuver ships a fifth of their size and move just as quickly through hyperspace. Each clipper has 28 laser cannons, 19 each to port/starboard, plus a quad-battery fore and aft. They also have what's essentially a Greek Fire launcher amidships, a weapon called Fotia's Fire that splatters superheated ooze that burns its way through starship hulls. A Royal Fortune-class vessel is crewed by 480, and carries a minimum of 14 starfighters and 4 longboats (capacity of 40). All members of the crew double as troops in the happy event of planetary invasion or boarding action.

A favored tactic of the Tof is to make a flanking pass at high speed, firing all side-mounted cannons simultaneously to shred the enemy's superstructure. They'll also launch Fotia's Fire at their own discretion, mostly to leave enough of the ship intact and survivors for prize money. All Tof ships carry at least one starfighter squadron, which is used to harass the enemy until the larger vessel can move in for a punishing broadside. Once the enemy ship's practically dead in the water, they'll carry out a boarding action and take booty and plunder.

Writing...
>>
>>4698471
>>4698474
>>4698479

Their journey through the sewers isn’t something the trio are too keen on revisiting. It’s kept short, simply stating that there hadn’t been any dangerous encounters or formidable obstacles that got in their way. With Ceyla’s aid, they made good time, seeking out areas in the garrison with less clusters of life. Which she roughly estimated to something just over two hundred Tof.

They had found themselves in a cistern, the Tof’s repository for their freshwater sourced from snowmelt and runoff springs from the mountain. Shucking off their filthy robes and donning a fresher set, they’d settled down and hid in the rafters, waiting for the signal from Crantz and Joz to begin their infiltration. The girls didn’t have to wait too long before they heard and felt an earth-rumbling explosion that shook the mountain.

“Sounds like they triggered an avalanche,” you observe.

Luaine snorts. “Nah, but they sure made it feel like they did! They took as much ordinance out of the transport as they could, and scattered it around the mountain. Crantz had them all slave-linked to his detonator, so it all went off at the same time.”

“It was a logical ruse meant to draw the Tof out,” Vuqu points out, “To give the impression of an attack by larger numbers. And it worked as expected to, ah…what was it that the pilot had said?”

“‘Kick off a pissing match,’” completes Ceyla dryly, “And true to his words, they took the bait.”

The miraluka had felt their auras shift in the heartbeat after the first explosion. The muted hues of discontent and restlessness flared into an excited, ravenous bloodlust. The floor shook above them as the garrison stomped about them, grabbing weapons and equipment to meet the attackers in force.

Of course, there had to be a contingent to stay behind and defend the garrison. That had been an argument that Ceyla felt rather than heard. But there hadn’t been missing the sound of a gunshot, and the subsequent disappearance of an aura. There hadn’t been any complaints after that, even as she felt the urge to gag.

A hand on her shoulder pulled Ceyla out of her reverie. Luaine was there, brow furrowed in concern. “You alright?”

“I’ll…I’ll be fine,” she said, hesitating as she shook the cobwebs out of her head. “We should get moving soon. They’ll be out the front gates soon.”

Vuqu nodded. “The communications room should be at the highest point of the garrison. Logic dictates that the antenna for the jamming signal should be as high as possible. Crantz pointed out a tower that went up the peak.”

Luaine's mouth visibly screwed into a sour frown. “I don’t suppose you have a map of how to get there?”

The miralan shook her head, the sarcasm lost upon her. “No, but we should be able to get one from a power relay station. Maintaining the jamming field over such a large area requires a large amount of energy to sustain.”


(cont)
>>
Luaine blinked, seemingly at a loss. Then, with a heavy breath, rubbed the side of her head and grabbed her lightsaber. “I’ll take the lead. Ceyla in the middle, Vuqu in the rear.”

They nodded, but Ceyla added, “We have to hurry. Crantz told us to not get caught, but if we take too long to bring down the field…”

She didn’t need to finish, nor did she want to comprehend the “what if” of hypothetical failure. But they understood well enough. Dropping down from the rafters, they grabbed their lightsabers, fell into formation and began their infiltration of the Tof outpost.


>>Best Stealth roll comes to 14…

Of the two that went out of the base, at least a full thirty were forced to remain behind. Not quite nearly as impossible of an odds, but still incredibly dangerous. Luaine might’ve exuded a confident aura should they run into one, maybe three Tof at the most. Certainly, there had been precedent that they weren’t (too) much trouble to a pair of Jedi younglings.

But Nujem and Joz had Crantz in the cave skirmish; Parn and Vuqu have Stern in the ravine. And pilots though they might’ve been, the presence of an experienced adult soldier would’ve been a welcome addition to the mission.

The younglings slunk through the long, large halls and corridors of the base. They kept to the shadows, hiding whenever Ceyla had felt someone coming too close. None of them had spotted any cameras, but they weren’t going to chance simply strutting around in the open. They made their way methodically around corners, ducking behind stray crates, flattening themselves against walls…

…and encountered no resistance on their way to the power station. The door was shut, but the lock was mechanical, not electric. It would be a simple matter of manipulating the Force to jigger the mechanism, if not for the presence behind the door.

“…one Tof,” reported Ceyla in a hushed whisper. “His aura’s muddled…anger from being forced to stay behind, along with something else messing with his emotions. Mood swings between sadness and crassness…”

“Drunk, most likely,” Vuqu says, wrinkling her nose. “You smell that?”

Even as she nodded, Luaine squeezed her lightsaber, thumb on the activator switch. “Open it.”

The loud nose did nothing to jolt the Tof out of his stupor. Sprawled in his seat before the power array, the soldier's eyelids fluttered then widened dramatically as he saw the trio enter. His mouth was halfway open, and hand near the blaster just beneath his gut before Luaine activated her lightsaber and rushed the soldier.

It was a merciful kill, far more than he had most likely deserved. He died in his seat, spilling his drink and flopping limply to the ground as the youngling’s lighsaber went through his skull. Ceyla felt no remorse as his aura winked out, and Luaine withdrew her ‘saber. Vuqu was already on the console, tapping rapidly as the others moved to close the door.

(cont.)
>>
The room itself was relatively small, no more than a small observatory overlooking the main generator, a larger enclosure a dozen or so feet below. It’s noticeably smaller than anything she’d ever seen, even with the limited sight she was given with the Force. Scattered about the room were metal cannisters of what she expected to be the main fuel source.

Her attention returned to the immediate when Luaine tapped her shoulder. “I got the door.”

What went unspoken was her desire to not be too close to Vuqu unless absolutely necessary. Their fight was still a sore point, even if she was willing to clench her teeth and work past it. But Ceyla made no notice of it, merely nodding and making her way over towards their companion.

The console was mostly analog, a mess of lights and buttons that didn’t leave much in the way of a digital interface. But Vuqu was there, poking and prodding at whatever there was to work with. Clearing her throat, Ceyla asked, “Find anything yet?”

“No, because I can’t read Tof,” the miralan eventually said, frustration audible. But she tapped the console a few more times, and contentment filled her aura. “But I can read Basic. It looks like the people who constructed the generator made it easier for their slaves to repair or otherwise maintain it.”

That made a disturbing amount of sense. “So, where’s the tower?”

She pointed to the console, going up a trail along the interface where a steady stream of light indicated a flow of power. “I can safely deduce that the tower’s in the northwest direction. We just need to stick to this side of the garrison, and we should make it there in about ten minutes…make that twenty if we’re being careful.”


The corpse had to be hidden, in the event someone might have come back. It was easy enough to find a maintenance shaft, a tunnel leading down to the main reactor room below. Stuffing the Tof inside of it was significantly harder, given the tunnel’s size and the corpse’s girth. In the end, it had been done, but they don’t want to go into too much detail as to how it had been accomplished.

But they digress. True to form, it doesn’t take them too long, even as they keep to the shadows and darker areas. The outpost is on somewhat of a high alert due to the attack, but it’s the calm before the storm. By whatever metric of luck or will of the Force, the Tof hadn’t noticed the dead soldier in the power station.

There had, however, been a slight problem once they reached the base of the tower. Along with a long, winding set of stairs, an elevator provided a way up the odd five stories of elevation. They remained hidden, debating and arguing quietly about the best course of action as Ceyla meditated to catch her breath and replace her bloody bandages with fresh ones.

(cont.)
>>
Going up the elevator was quicker, but guaranteed to draw attention. And while the mirialan had sensed only one Tof in the communication array, there wasn’t any telling how he’d react to what was most likely an unscheduled visit. Taking the stairs would mitigate that risk, but draw precious time away and further imperil the distraction party.

In the end, they voted for the stairs, but only after great deliberation and when Ceyla felt the invisible jackhammer pulling away from her head. They couldn’t risk it. Calling down the elevator would put the Tof on alert, even if he wasn’t actively looking for intruders. And honestly, five stories of stairs in theory weren’t all that bad.

But five stories with the Tof had been very different, rounding out to almost a full eight. By the time they’d made it up, all three of them were sweating profusely, in spite of the cold and thickness of their robes. But they made it, and the guards and the man in the next room over were none the wiser.

“Count of three…” Luaine whispered, unholstering her lightsaber. “I say three, do what you did with the lock…and he isn’t looking this way, right?”

“…no,” hissed Ceyla. “He’s too busy with something else, but he isn’t drunk like the other one.”

Vuqu shrugged, extending her hand out towards the second mechanical lock. The Force was gathered at her fingertips, ready to be called at her yearning. “Count of three, then…”

It wasn’t even a fight, but it was nearly one due to the distance they had to close. The Tof had turned around at the unexpected noise, and was more surprised than angry to see Luaine and Ceyla charging forward. His mouth widened into a sickening, lecherous smile as he propped himself out of his seat and made to grab the club at his waist.

The leer quickly disappeared when he’d brought it down to match Luaine’s attack, and found his weapon sundered in half. He died with a frozen grimace on his face as Ceyla swung upward, opening his chest and destroying his heart.

Vuqu wasted no time, moving quickly to the communications console. But Ceyla had to take a moment to catch her breath, shaking as she deactivated her lightsaber. Surface thoughts weren’t something she was readily able to see, but the Tof had such a vivid image of his intentions toward them…

“…stay with me, Cey.” Luaine’s voice called her out of that depraved thought. Her friend squeezed her shoulder, then gestured towards the corpse. “C’mon. Let’s prop him up against the door. Figure that way, he’ll be at least good for something.”

She nodded, swallowing her bile and shuddering as if to rid herself of a bad omen. The Force aided their efforts, jerking the lumpy mass of flesh off the ground, flopping him down against the door they came out of. Not the best barricade, but it would do for now.


(cont.)
>>
The structure itself was reminiscent of control towers found at spaceports. It was ringed around completely with glass, affording its workers a breath-taking view of the immediate environs. Which wasn’t much given how the sun was setting.

“Aha!” Vuqu pointed triumphantly to the console. The finer points of console operations were lost on Ceyla, but even she could distinguish the 3D map, as well as the semi-sphere that extended out from the center of the map: their current location. “I’ve isolated the source of the jamming beacon. Once we flip that switch, the field goes down.”

Said switch happened to be a breaker-style lever. But just as Luaine moved to pull it down, Vuqu slapped her hand away. The human girl snarled, flashing her teeth. “Hey, what the hell’s your problem?!"

“What?” she answered, seemingly confused. “I was just about to warn you that the instant we turn it off, the Tof will know. And then, they’ll know that something’s gone wrong, and send a party to investigate.”

Luaine looked taken aback. “How’re they gonna know? We’re just turning it off, not destroying it! Tempting as that is…”

“They’ll hear it. All this power coming off the antenna? They’ll hear it cycling down.”

Ceyla coughed, interjecting, “There’s also the fact that we need to radio the Alliance. And if we do it on an open channel, since we don’t know their exact frequencies…”

“More Tof from the surrounding areas might come in.”

“…right,” grimaced Luaine. “So, the plan. Flip the switch, call for backup, make it down…although that doesn’t sound really tempting, since we've kicked the hornet's nest.”

“A valid point. Logically, they'll be coming up the elevator.” Vuqu pointed towards a maintenance hatch, just above the elevator doors. “But that can be easily sabotaged.”

“Which makes the only point of egress the stairs, then.” They followed Ceyla’s gaze towards the Tof corpse they’d laid there. “…and I don’t think that’s gonna be enough.”

Luaine appeared doubtful, apprehensive even as they put all their cards on the table. But the girl breathed, expelling hesitation and fear and drawing in courage to steel herself. “Flip the switch and make the phone call. But only after Cey and I try to barricade the door just a bit more.”

Vuqu nodded. “Understood. Although…”

“Although what?”

To Ceyla’s surprise, the mirialan almost looked guilty. “…should the Tof breach the tower, you'll have to protect me as I radio our positions."

“…yeah, that makes sense,” grumbled Luaine. Shaking her head, she motioned for Ceyla to follow her. “I’ll get the elevator. There’s some shelves and benches we can use as a barricade.”

In spite of herself, Ceyla laughed, scratching at the scabs forming at the corner of her eyes. “Making the blind girl do all the hard work, are we?”


>>Roll 2d6 Lightsaber for Luaine and Ceyla.
>Best out of three.
>>
Rolled 4, 4 = 8 (2d6)

>>4701187
>>
Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d6)

>>4701187
>>
Rolled 2, 4 = 6 (2d6)

>>4701187
>>
Rolled 6, 6 = 12 (2d6)

>>4701187
late
>>
>>4700240
>space niggers

Holy shit my sides, i did NOT expect that after the stupid argument the anons had
>>
>>4701268
I mean, am I wrong?
Wookies are
>Tribal/Pre-industrial
>Good slave material/Slaver's wet dream
>Aggresive/Tard strength
>Can only communicate with weird grumbles
It's almost like... George was trying to tell us something...
>>
>>4701499
Now do the Toydarians.
>>
>>4701192
>>4701197
>>4701198

Vuqu threw the switch. The change was instantaneous. A faint sensation that the girls had felt, a sort of mild numbness in their gums, had abruptly disappeared. Up on the roof, they felt the tower shudder, winding down from a high-pitched drone into a series of slower, duller oscillations until it stopped completely. The jamming signal was down.

Ceyla and Luaine took up positions by the barricade, lightsabers drawn but not yet activated. The longtime friends knew that they were in for a nasty fight, and they didn’t need the Force to sense it in their guts. There was nervousness, of course, and a dread feeling of failure that they weren’t completely able to quash. But for all of their lives, they’d trained for this moment, when the time would come to wield their lightsabers against the scum of the galaxy.

Inwardly, Luaine thought it a sick joke that her first taste of combat would be as a youngling, and not a padawan proper. The girl shook her head, clearing her mind to let the Force flow through her…

Vuqu’s hands were a green blur, rapidly pressing buttons and controls. A fatal flaw of the jamming signal’s deactivation was the necessitation of a hard reset. She clicked her teeth in annoyance, frowning as she drew as much power to force a hard restart of the array. The overhead lights visibly dimmed, and something violently shook above their heads…

…but the terminal lit up in an instant. At her fingertips were antiquated, yet functional, buttons and dials to adjust the output and/or capture rate of a signal. She was momentarily overwhelmed as the utter stillness of the station was quickly overwhelmed with a slurry of signals. Instinct compelled her to slap the emergency mute button, but she’d caught enough to pick out through the mess of signals.

Aerial dogfights both in low and high atmosphere, aces and angels calling their shots and yelling attack vectors. Reports of Alliance troopers taking trench after bloody trench, paving a road of corpses to the main colony as orbital bombardment rains hell from above. Tof marauders performing hit-and-run raids on the supply lines at the beach head, digging their boots into their last stronghold within X number of parsecs…

This was Operation IceBreaker.

There was no time for fine-tuning. The mirialan threw out all the stops, powering up the console for as strong a signal as she’d be able to broadcast. No one would miss it, neither the M.S.D.F. or the Tof Remnant. All she could do was pray that the former slaves were faster to their rescue.

Picking up the mic, she depressed the button. Clearing her throat, she calmly intoned, “This is Vuqu Dahe, speaking for the Jedi Younglings. First, Master Aure. Please accept our most humble apologies for going to rescue Nujem and Joz, as well as the delay in getting back to you. Second, if you could send a rescue party to these coordinates, we’d be incredibly grateful…”


(cont.)
>>
File: Master Aure.jpg (460 KB, 800x800)
460 KB
460 KB JPG
The message was repeated twice before it elicited any kind of reaction. Ceyla and Luaine started, activating their lightsabers as they felt the tower shudder. The elevator shuddered, rumbling as it began a controlled descent down to the base of the structure…before the repulsorlift engine gave out, the emergency brakes failed, and sent the box plummeting down in an uncontrollable fall.

There was a horrific crash, and of the auras the miralukan felt gathered eight stories below them, no less than three were violently extinguished.

Luaine winced, but whistled low and impressed as the noise reverberated up the elevator shaft. “How long do you think it’ll take them to realize what we did to the stairs?”

“Not too long,” opined Ceyla, recalling the section they’d carved away with their lightsabers. Then, she added, “Not that they’ll be quick enough to get up here to find out.”

The banter bled the edge and tension out of their bodies, puerile as it might’ve been. Of course, it didn’t last too long. Their emotions spiked into the red as after Vuqu’s third time at broadcasting the message, a very familiar, very angry voice transmitted a very elaborate swear.

“YOU BRATS REALLY PUT YOUR FOOT INTO IT NOW!” the voice of Master Aure screeched over the radio. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED I WAS?!”

“Of course,” answered Vuqu, “But-”

“Dahe, I swear to the Force if you try to rationalize to me over the radio, I’ll bloody ask Keimann about reinventing the Service Corps under the Ministry of Agriculture.”

That shut her up quickly. Ceyla and Luaine shared a small, smug grin at the chastisement.

“I’d have more to say if I wasn’t in the middle of this bloody trench,” groused the Jedi Master, “So just sit tight. I sent what units we had to secure the garrison. Space Cavalry should be there in a handful of minutes. Although I doubt they can beat the {Bantha} in terms of speed.”

That caused everyone to start. Vuqu hesitantly ventured, “Master Larid…he’s returned?”

“Oh, yes, him and Gaelle. Didn't you know?” The sarcasm was thick in the zabrack’s voice, almost sickeningly sweet if not for the irritation smoldering across the line. But there was no way she could see their faces upon learning that Farren had returned from his Trial of Spirit. “Made it back five, four days ago. Larid only finished knighting Gaelle before he heard about what you did and quite literally burned a hole in the ozone layer to get to the Chiller.

“But to digress. I can’t personally come to save you since it's a fustercluck where I'm at,” Aure finished grimly. Across the line, something sounding like artillery exploded faintly on her end. “...so sit tight for a few minutes, and don’t do anything stupid. Force help you if you aren’t ready to leave once either the cavalry or Larid gets there.”


(cont.)
>>
File: The Chain Warrior.jpg (118 KB, 800x1170)
118 KB
118 KB JPG
All of them shivered. It was one thing for Master Aure to be regularly angry, if not nominally short-tempered due to both recent events and cultural norms. But to upset Master Larid…was something they hadn’t admittedly considered, given how he’d been away when they’d departed. Rescue was all but assured with his return, but the discipline eked out at his hands…

“Confirm, please,” growled Master Aure.

It happened too quickly. Vuqu hastily moved towards the console to both acknowledge and confirm the order that they’d been given. Luaine was moving back towards the stairs, double-checking the barricade. Ceyla was about to follow her in tow when she felt the air shift.

The miraluka only had the faintest warning, a flare up of an aura that hadn’t been there before, and the murky, oily sensation of the Force tainted with the Dark Side. Suddenly, the window overlooking the console shattered. As shards of glass blew in all directions, the cold air was not the only intruder into the communications tower.

Her blood ran cold as she felt hostile intent. “Guys, watch out-!”

The warning came too late. Even as Vuqu shielded her eyes from the glass, their unseen attacker wasted no time. A length of chain slithered from an unseen angle, darting into the room, seemingly bouncing off into invisible attack vectors. It lashed out, wrapping itself around the mirialan’s throat, turning an explanation for Master Aure into a strangled, helpless croak.

But just before the chain would’ve pulled, taking the girl out the window or snapping her neck outright, tragedy was averted at the last possible second. Luaine was already moving before conscious thought reached her, running as fast as her own body would let her, and then some more provided by the Force.

All of her ire, her anger, the ill feelings of Vuqu’s provocation were a distant memory, forgotten in the rush of adrenaline as she leapt into the air and sliced the chain.

The Tof had suddenly become an afterthought. Ceyla reached out with the Force, jerking Vuqu away from the console. The mirialan gasped, her stoic composure gone, clawing and scrabbling to undo the bindings around her neck. But no matter how hard she pulled, or how Luaine joined Ceyla in trying to pry the metal off, it wouldn’t budge.

“What the hell was that?!” Aure demanded, fear overriding the anger in her voice. “Oy, brats. What’s going on?!”

None of them were able to respond. The other half of the chain shook itself in a bestial manner, ridding itself of the slag caused by Luaine’s lightsaber. It twisted, burying itself into the ceiling as its owner pulled himself up and over the edge of the window.

It could only have been a man. The physique and rippling musculature beneath his robes were proof enough, in spite of the glaring mask that obscured his face. But what disturbed Ceyla more beyond his intimidating presence was how the Dark Side within him had abruptly…stilled.


(cont.)
>>
>>4704408
“Who are you?!” Luaine demanded, leveling her lightsaber at their enemy. Somehow, she’d been able to keep her voice even. “The hell did you do to her?!”

The man offered no answer, not even movement beyond a slight tilt of his head. They felt his eyes track towards the end of the chain, then flick upwards to the end of Luaine’s ‘saber.

“…can’t…breathe…” The mirialan’s voice was hoarse. Vuqu’s fingers were bloody as she tried and failed to find leverage against the chain. “…tightening…!”

Ceyla saw the link, the faint tendril in the Force that connected the writhing chains to their attacker. It would’ve been a simple matter to just repeat what Luaine did, but the miraluka didn’t trust herself nearly enough to employ her lightsaber on such a precise level. Not to mention the risk of the slag and melted bits causing irreparable damage to Vuqu’s throat.

“Let her go!” shouted Luaine.

His only response was to draw a knife from his side. He studied it, comparing its length against the lightsabers pointed at him, then gestured to the cherry-red bits Luaine had sliced off his chain. A challenge of some sort?

The posturing was wasted upon the girls. Vuqu was only a handful of moments from asphyxiation, and the Tof were still an issue that needed solving. They were out of their depth, but the younglings knew they still had to fight. Master Aure would certainly be upset with them.

“I’ll take the left,” muttered Luaine. "Let me know if the Tof start coming up the stairs."

Ceyla nodded. “Watch out for the chain. And any Force powers he might use.”

And then they started killing each other.


“A practitioner of the Dark Side?” you say slowly, utterly baffled. “The Tof had such forces among them?”

Vuqu massaged her neck with an unexpected meekness. “…he wasn’t wearing Tof livery. Not nearly fat enough either. Our best guess is a mercenary of some sort.”

“In the heat of the moment, I thought he was some sort of Dark Jedi,” confessed Ceyla, “But he didn’t have a lightsaber. Just the chains and the knife…and the Dark Side at his beck and call.”

A lightsaber doesn’t necessarily make one a Jedi, regardless of affiliation to Light or Dark. One needn't look further than the late Master Fay. But it’s incredibly troubling to hear the news.

The Force makes no distinction on maps in where its power manifests stronger, but where there’s one practitioner of the Dark Side, there tend to be many more on the way. The Revenant and the Storyteller seem to be only the tip of the iceberg, unaffiliated as they are to Darth Sidious and Vader.

Something to discuss with Master Larid with later, then. Continuing, you ask, “Well, you’re standing here now. I take it you made a good show of yourselves.”

Luaine shook her head, wincing as she folded her arms in a bitter huff. “Yeah, sure. A good show…”

(cont.)
>>
>>Lightsaber roll comes out to 4 for Luaine, 4 for Ceyla…

They were fighting a losing battle, and the girls knew it only after a handful of attacks. But it was a battle they were sure as hell determined to drag for as long as possible. Reinforcements and relief were on the way, and Master Larid was at the forefront of the charge. No ship in the entire galaxy was faster than the {Bantha}.

But the warrior was good. Better than good. The bastard was toying with them; several times, there were openings he could have exploited, weaknesses easily punished as they came at him from either flank. The knife was almost more an ornament than anything else, playing second fiddle to punches, kicks and the chain that coiled and struck like a hissing serpent.

All of the senior younglings had a firm grasp on the basics of lightsaber combat. Barring Form VII, the fundamentals of six of the traditional lightsaber forms had been drilled into them. They had trained so that their bodies might respond without conscious thought, flowing from one choreographed strike to the next as they grew further attuned to the Force.

Naturally, some were more effective than others. The complication of the chain made what should’ve been a simple, close-quarters battle a tactical quandary. Shii-Cho and Makashi were not ideal, as they’d been developed for combat against other lightsaber-wielders.

But Soresu had its bladework seeped in deflecting blaster opponents. The chain was as close to a ranged weapon within the immediate situation. And the form lent itself to more prolonged battles, facilitating survival at the cost of swift victory, learning and observing one’s opponent before transitioning to a form more suited for resolution.

Luaine and Ceyla fought in tandem, alternating between defender and aggressor. The miraluka focused on the chain, battering it away with applications of Force Push as needed, Pull in an effort to draw it closer to slice more links off the weapon. Her friend focused on the knife, angling her lightsaber for a strike that might disarm or sunder either limb or blade.

By all accounts, they were keeping to Jedi doctrine. Battlemaster Cin Drallig might have praised them for their footwork, even as the warrior fought with his handicap. They minimized injuries, coming away with only light scrapes and bruises in the mess of limbs.

Yet they were no closer to saving Vuqu. The mirialan was sprawled on the floor, utterly helpless and incapable of helping. The chain hadn’t nearly cut off her windpipe, giving her just enough oxygen to see the battle play itself out. But it was a slow, agonizing death that even in her darkest moments, Luaine would never have wished upon her.

They had to hurry. Ceyla felt Luaine’s eyes on her, and an unspoken communication passed as the Force flowed through them. A plan was made, ratified and shared without a single uttered word from either of the girls.


(cont.)
>>
File: Beskad.jpg (66 KB, 1218x758)
66 KB
66 KB JPG
Luaine took a step forward as Ceyla reached for the Force. Her next steps took her closer to the warrior, becoming a charge as she angled her lightsaber low. The miraluka felt the end of the chain, writhing like an animal underneath her perception.

Several things happened at once. Ceyla envisioned a hand in her mind’s eye, grasping onto the length tightly and pulled with a violent tug. It lost its slack, dragging the warrior forward in a perilous stumble, arm extended at an awkward angle. He only regained his balance as Luaine brought her lightsaber in an arc to slice off his forearm and most of his mask-covered face.

“Gotcha!” shouted Luaine, a triumphant grin on her face.

SKRANG!

The grin had frozen on her face, and the triumph fizzled out like a spent firework as the warrior moved to block the attack. An impossibility lay before them. There was a keening, grinding noise as the lightsaber was locked in a struggle against the warrior’s knife. It hadn’t melted, even as a beam of superheated plasma bore down upon the length of the blade.

“How the-?!” was all that Luaine had to exclaim before the warrior made his counter-attack.

His muscles rippled, and he shoved her blade off with a furious riposte. The chain in his other hand fell to the ground as his fingers curled into a fist. There was a whoosh of air and spittle as the air was driven out of her lungs as the twisting blow went into her midsection. The girl crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, groping for her fallen lightsaber before it was kicked off to the side.

“Luaine!” screamed Ceyla.

The chain was forgotten. In the split second that saw her friend’s lightsaber clattering across the floor, the miraluka had acted accordingly. The Force trembled, and the hilt shot into her empty hand. As the warrior reached for the chain, she crossed the two cobalt blades in front of him, stepping protectively between him and the others.

"Yield!" she shouted.

He didn’t stop, and she nearly took his hand off as he plucked the chain off the ground. But she sheared more of the chain, leaving the warrior with nothing more than a foot of ineffective metal. He regarded the ruined weapon, then turned to regard the younglings. Two on the ground, both gasping for breath, one mere moments from blacking out and another trying to squeeze breath into her lungs. Then to the last one standing.

Ceyla shivered as his eyes swept across her body, appraising her no differently like one might a piece of meat. His emotions were closed off to her, but in his aura, she felt something approaching approval. And not just for her; his praise extended even to Luaine and Vuqu.

But before the duel could resume in earnest, there was a noise at the stairs. The Tof had finally made it up the tower. And judging from the clank and whine of mechanical instruments, were repairing the damaged walkway as best and fast as they could.


(cont.)
>>
The warrior sheathed his knife and wrapped what little of his chain had survived against his wrist. He pointed to Vuqu, and Ceyla felt whatever Dark Side power that had animated the chains around her neck fade away into nothing. The mirialan drew deep breaths, gasping and shaking as she struggled to put the color back in her features.

His gaze passed across Luaine as she stood shakily to her feet, teeth bared in a furious snarl. She stumbled towards Ceyla, who returned her lightsaber without taking her eyes off the warrior. A flicker of amusement passed through his aura, but he remained otherwise silent as he began to walk backwards towards the shattered window.

“…you are worthy,” he said, and the softness of his voice surprised them. “The Chain will be greatly strengthened.” But before they could ask what the hell he was speaking about, his head turned towards something unseen in the distance. “…another time, then.”

He walked backwards, kept walking until his steps took him out the window and into the long drop down the tower. The girls hurried forward, unsure if they were trying to stop him from falling or to ensure he stayed dead. But no sooner had they peered through the opening, they saw no body, no bloody splatter on the parapet or the stones.

What they did see, however, was the silhouette of a speeder bike making its way down the mountain.

They had only a handful of breaths to ponder this development before the door to the stairs was nearly blown off its hinges. The Tof hadn’t decided to wait for their repairs to finish, missing flight of stairs be damned. The green bastards were shooting just for the hell of it.

“…you alright?” Ceyla whispered to Luaine as they hit the deck.

She spat out something very unladylike along with a bloody spittle. “I’m fine. Caught me off-guard is all.”

“Lu…”

Somehow, even as they were crawling beneath the laserfire coming through the door, Luaine was able to shrug. “’s fine. If it wasn’t for that fancy knife of his…”

They made it to Vuqu, who had the similar wherewithal to keep her head down. The skin of her throat was a horrific mess of purpling bruises and raw abrasions where the chains had nearly strangled her to death. But she looked no less defiant, even if her words came out with audible hesitation.

“…they’re preparing a harpoon gun of all things,” she croaked, “…zipline themselves up, three at a time.”

“Three? How unfair…” Luaine laughed, even as she winced at the way her ribs flexed. “…should at least send six at a time. Then it’ll be fair…”

The laserfire stopped, and the girls stood shakily to their feet, gathering their breath and energy for a final stand as the first harpoons were fired. The chain warrior left them exhausted and weary, even injured in Luaine and Vuqu’s case. But they were no less determined to fight them, or about to leap out the window for an escape.


(cont.)
>>
>Shii-Cho and Makashi were not ideal, as they’d been developed for combat against other lightsaber-wielders.

Uh, what? Shii-Cho predates the existence of lightsabers, while Makashi was designed to be as optimized for lightsaber combat as possible to make up for Shii-Cho being made around the use of physical swords.
>>
File: images.jpg (12 KB, 239x211)
12 KB
12 KB JPG
>>4705134
Ah, that's miswording on my part. For that segment, I meant to convey that Shii-Cho and Makashi wasn't ideal for getting into a fight with someone with a knife. Whoops.
>>
>>4705081
Or at the very least, make peace with their deaths should the worst happen.

Yet even as the first wave crashed through the door, leering and shouting obscenities and threats, those fears were laid to rest. Out of the blue, the transceiver squawked, just around the same time that Ceyla felt something large suddenly come overhead, along with four auras. Three strangers, two Jedi and one unfamiliar to her…

…but tired as she was, she couldn’t hide the grin that broke across her mouth as she recognized the fourth one.

“Get your dirty mitts off my kids, you filthy bastards.”

The remaining window in the communications tower shattered as Jedi Master Brethon Larid made his dramatic entrance. Spinning onto his feet, he thrust out his hand, and bowled over the second wave as they were mid-way through the zipline. The Shadow leapt into the battle with a fierce expression on his face, and a golden lightsaber in his hands…


As it turns out, the distress call they put out caused the entire operation to shift focus. The Tof, sensing the sudden diversion in manpower and spaceships to the outpost, sent their own forces to both intercept and reinforce the garrison. And in turn, Supreme Archon Keimann had ordered an increase of air power to intercept the interception, and additional troops on the ground to repel the reinforcements.

What had originally meant to be a simple rescue and exfiltration mission had escalated into a battle of unprecedented proportions. Up in the mountain peaks, Torok and the likes of Blitz Squadron dueled with Tof aces in perhaps the largest furball they’d seen since the Clone Wars. And on the ground, the valley had turned into a bloodbath as M.S.D.F. troopers clashed with Remnant armor and infantry.

Apparently, they were still fighting over the garrison by the time Master Larid and the Bantha exfiltrated from the Chiller. And with that, the story of what would later be called “The Incident” comes to an end as the girls finish their story.

What a glorious mess, as befitting of younglings in the care of Jedi Master Brethon Larid.

But your thoughts turn inward, towards the chain warrior the younglings had described. There are only so many materials in the galaxy that can withstand lightsabers. Cortosis was out, given how it didn’t short any of the girls’ weapons out. Phrik is too rare of a compound, unless there’s a planet in this part of the galaxy where it flows in abundance. Beskar, or Mandalorian iron, is the most likely culprit.

Although that begs the question of how a practitioner of the Dark Side got their hands on the fabled Mandalorian metal. Something to ask Nomiana in the off-chance you see her again…

But you clear your throat, and gesture to the girls. “Your injuries…do you need further medical attention?” They shake their heads and explain that Doc had already patched them up. Bacta or kolto tanks would only be overkill at that point.

(cont.)
>>
File: Jedi Meditation.jpg (249 KB, 639x1250)
249 KB
249 KB JPG
Although a thought comes to mind. The entire mess wouldn't have happened if Luaine and Vuqu had gotten it into their heads to go galivanting off into an active warzone. That said, it would be somewhat hypocritical for you to chastise them when you'd done the same thing no less than a week ago.

Still...it might look extremely odd in the after-action report to have thrown so many resources and lives to save twelve children, special as they might be. You of course have no such compunction, but detractors against Keimann might raise a few qualms. Because as unified as the revolution had been, politics always makes things difficult.

Hopefully the butcher’s bill won’t be too high. If nothing else, the M.S.D.F. is getting a garrison smack in the middle of no-man’s-land. Add in the fact that Torok and Master Aure are fighting on loan for the Alliance itself…the youngling rescue seems only fair.

Politics aside, you assess the girls. You’d already given them a bit of encouraging words prior to their story, but those had mostly concerned the fight in the prefab. Their fight against the chain warrior has certainly rattled them, but they seem to be handling themselves well. Again, there’s still some issues to work out between them, yet that will all come in due time.

All you can really do is send them on their way, offering a few comforting words of encouragement, a smile, an offer to talk should the need arise, and a promise to show them how to manipulate fire with the Force. And to your relief, they all depart from the Albatross with small smiles on their faces, and a lighter load on their shoulders than what they'd had coming in.

>>Line Break

“So, you make up your mind yet?”

“Master, it’s only been ten minutes since the last of them returned.”

“True. Just thought I’d check in. At any rate, I’m hoping to get your answer by tomorrow morning.”

“That soon, then?”

“You’ve had a few days since coming back from Kakarit. Surely you’ve got an inkling of an idea.”

“…perhaps.”

“Hmph. Don’t keep me in the dark for too long, Farren. I’ll see you in the morning for your answer. Because, boy oh boy, we’ve got a hell of a lot to discuss.”

“Yeah…I guess we do."

"...is there something wrong, Farren?"

"...nothing pressing, master."

"...see, now you've got me worried."

"It can wait for tomorrow."

"Hmph. If you say so...g'night, then."

"I'll see you in the morning, master.”

Rest does not come immediately. Sitting yourself in the lotus position, you dim the lights of the ship and enter a meditative trance. Time becomes meaningless as you feel the Force flowing through your body, easing you of your aches and worries. The void opens before you, and you allow it to carry you away beyond the flesh-and-blood confinement of your body.

(cont.)
>>
File: Jedi Training.jpg (1.04 MB, 2197x795)
1.04 MB
1.04 MB JPG
You think upon the seven younglings, weighing their merits and faults, their virtues and vices. They are clay, certainly not raw given the events of the Chiller, but still untested in the wider ways of the galaxy. You are the potter that will shape one of them into a Jedi Shadow, inheriting a mantle passed down to you from Brethon Larid, from his master and through the lineage of the Ancient Order of Shadows.

The destruction of the Sith, their teachings and followers, is a duty not so easily taken. Yet it is one that must be carried out, for the good of the galaxy. Now, more than ever with the Sith not only emergent, but triumphant after a thousand years since the New Sith Wars.

You will teach one, and in turn, be taught. The relationship between master and apprentice goes both ways, reciprocal in the truest sense in knowledge, skill and insight into the Force. A Jedi, no matter their rank or stage in life, never stops learning or training. And Force willing, you might see yourself training more than one padawan in the course of your lifetime.

In your mind’s eye, you behold seven lights that have accompanied you into the void. They dance around you, flitting through empty space, propelled by unseen means. And though they have no eyes or face, there is a weight that you can feel as they turn their collective gaze expectantly towards you.

Waiting for your answer…

==WARNING==

>>You will now choose a padawan.
>>The permanency of this action cannot be stressed enough, as it will have a lasting impact on the narrative going forward.
>>Barring species traits unique to them, all Younglings start with Lightsaber 1 and Force Rating 1.

Please consult >>4678470 for supplementary details to the stories you were just told.

>>Please select one (1) of the eligible Younglings to take as your padawan:
>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)
>Joz Kalgar, Mon Calamari male. (13)
>Parn Telate, Human male. (13)
>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
>Ritho Gad, Nautolan female. (13)
>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
>Nujem Clavis, Kalleran male. (11)

VOTE OPEN FOR TWELVE HOURS.

Apologies for the delay. Writing Luaine/Ceyla/Vuqu's side of the story kind of ran away. And hoo boy. Here's a vote that I'm both looking forward to and dreading counting tomorrow after work...hopefully it won't be as messy as the Arotta vote in Thread #1.5
>>
>>4705834
>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)
>>
Right now I'm picking between Ritho, Parn, and Nujem
>>
>>4705854
Are we still keeping kreia? It's not like we're exclusively in ownership of the holocron
>>
>>4705834
>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
>>
>>4705856
Yeah, you can hold onto it. Incidentally, that's something Master Larid wants to speak with you about. He's had it with him for a few years, but he's surprised you managed to actually pop it open. Just wants to speak with the gatekeeper before you go off on your next mission.
>>
>>4705834
>>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)
>>
>>4705834
>>Nujem Clavis, Kalleran male. (11)
>>
>>4705834
>>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
Her innate gift could be useful for a Shadow
>>
>>4705834
>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)
It's been a while since I read the beginning of this quest, but aren't there a lot of parallels between Farren and Luaine? Apart from the Service Corps thing, she even has a bit of a rivalry with another youngling, albeit in a different manner. Also Sakamoto 2nd best strike witch.
>>
>>4705834
>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
Training her sounds like the most fun, quite frankly.
>>
>>4705834
>>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
>>
File: Spoiler Image (256 KB, 226x628)
256 KB
256 KB PNG
On the fence between Vuqu and Ceyla. Help me out here fellas.
>>4705863
Could we snag a few more from him for teaching purposes? I seem to recall Zayne Carrick's holocron which might be an interesting thing to have around in the event we run into pic related. She's getting defrosted in a month or so?
>>
>>4705834
>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
>>
>>4705834
>>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
>>
File: 1572276579951.jpg (36 KB, 436x428)
36 KB
36 KB JPG
>>4705867
I feel like she would be better suited as a Jedi Consular IMO but she's by far my second pick
>>4705834
>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
Autist time here we go
>>
>>4705834
I'd say either
>Nujem Clavis, Kalleran male. (11)
As I feel he has the most to teach us about being a person
Or
>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
As her innate abilities would best compliment our training
>>
>>4705942
>As I feel he has the most to teach us about being a person
u wot?

That's like, the last thing Farren would need. It's not like he's disconnected with his humanity like some Jedi get.

And don't even try to cite the weird mixed feelings for Arotta as some sort of indicator that he's out of touch with peoplehood. It's a very common and normal occurrence to be confused about your relationships with people. Because people are fluid and ever changing so to are the bonds between them. And not realizing or understanding that is also normal. Because people are dumb.
>>
>>4705834
>Nujem Clavis, Kalleran male. (11)
I think he'll pair well with Farren for making non-lightsaber stuff happen, and maybe he'll see Kreia's manipulation a little quicker than others.

>>4705942
I have no idea what you're on about
>>
>>4705834
>>Nujem Clavis, Kalleran male. (11)
>>
>>4705834
>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
>>
>>4705834
>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
>>
>>4705834
>>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female.
>>
>>4705834
>>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)
>>
>>4705834
Oh shit oh fuck, Kaz, don't dump a huge vote like that when I'm sleeping.

>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)

Whoever wins, I can't wait to see the shitposting.
>>
>>4705834
>>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)

So looking at the votes, its between ceyla, vuqu, luaine and nujem.

Heres my 2 cents. We have a stubborn and emotional streak, we manage to control it well in regards to dark side influence, but it cannot be denied. I think luaine suffers from much the same issues so that could compound each other in a bad way. Nujem is mischievous as well, which isn't neccesarily a bad thing, but i'm unsure to what degree we can teach him.

Leaving ceyla and vuqu, to me its just preference, but i think mechanical autist, that is extremely calm is a perfect match for our furry jedi bro (torok?). So vote Ceyla boys
>>
Ceyla, due to her innate abilities and aloofness lending itself well to the life of a shadow, from a certain point of view.
>>
>>4705834
>>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
Slept on it, made up my mind. Wouldn't mind any of the last three though, they all seem like good options.
>>
>>4705834
>>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)
>>
>>4706098
My current tally stands at Luaine 6, Vuqu 6, Ceyla 6, and Nujem 3 (not counting the anon that was between Nujem and Ceyla). Could go either way.
>>
>>4706123
Really? This is my count.

>>Luaine Natani, Human female. (14)
>>4705838
>>4705865
>>4705873
>>4706089
>>4706094
>>4706111

>>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
>>4705867
>>4705880
>>4705904
>>4705968
>>4706045
>>4706098
>>4706102

>>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
>>4705860
>>4705877
>>4705900
>>4705924
>>4706012
>>4706106

>>Nujem Clavis, Kalleran male. (11)
>>4705866
>>4705952
>>4705965
>>
RIP my girl Ritho.
She's a sweetheart and it's a shame nobody voted for her.
>>
>>4706128
I didn't count >4706102 since it's not linked.
>>
>>4706133
Yeah i actually prefer ritho over ceyla, but i figured i'd do a strategic vote
>>
>>4706133
I like her too, anon. She's too good for us.
>>
miralukan shadow... shouldn't be a problem to use a disguise, right guys?
>>
>>4706143
Easy enough to solve.
>jump cut to Ceyla walking through a crowded bazaar with an angry look on her face and googly eyes in her eye sockets
>>
>>4706143
Blind street urchin comes to mind.
>>4706162
God forbid she gets into a chase wearing those.
>>
>>4706143
I'm really not getting why Luaine and Ceyla are so popular. Vuqu sounds like we're not even going to bother training her as a shadow.
>>
>>4705834
>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
Miraluka are supposed to be extinct.
>>
>>4706168
>I'm really not getting why Luaine and Ceyla are so popular.
Cunny
>>
>>4705834
>>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)
/ourautist/ tfw
>>
>>4706173
*ftw
god, I hate phoneposting
>>
>>4705834
>Vuqu Dahe, Mirialan female (12)

Longtime lurker, first time posting since the hiatus. Good to be back.
>>
>>4706169
They only become extinct after the Empire rises to power. Ceyla was already with us before Order 66 went down.
>>
>>4706182
they went extinct in legends?
thought that Luke got a few at his temple once he stated the order back up
>>
>>4706171
this
>>
>>4705834
>Ceyla Vikol, Miraluka female. (13)
>>
>>4706171
>>4706188
You boys need to calm down, this isn't a Fate quest.
These girls are for grooming in a purely platonic way only!
Besides, Farren doesn't have time to be a predator when he's busy busting nuts in his blueberry baddie.
>>
>>4706168
Likewise, I'm really not sure why people want a turbo-grade autist in an undercover role.
>>
>>4706202
I can see her being a good actor if we train her and that's the only problem with her being a shadow.
She's cold, cool, and collected like a spy should be.
We just need to curb some of her more autistic tendencies and that honestly sounds like it would be a great time, as opposed to trying to turn a hot-headed battler into something she's not.
>>
>>4706209
I mean, Farren is *still* quite the hot-headed fighter, and it doesn't seem to have prevented him from being a good Shadow.
>>
>>4706213
Sure, but that doesn't mean Vuqu isn't better for the job and that I'd prefer the experience of tempering her personality over Luaine's.
I suppose I'm glad Ceyla is in first since her overattachment to Luaine is interesting, but it doesn't pique my interest the way Vuqu does.
She's simply the more entertaining choice.
>>