Lake Country

"...Who the hell are you." Replied Jashin absently, a mouthful of nunacrisps spraying all over the floor. He hadn't technically met the man, nor even seen him - Adi had been on the island training and doing things with Ravie for most of his initial visit. When he had been at the villa, he had been fighting the Sith. In fact, Jashin had only seen the man at a distance. "Yeah you and your frelling group are pulling out sabers, waving them around like a giant neon "come get me!" sign." A loud and obnoxious belch followed, And Jashin tipped the bag back, crumbs falling out of the bag into his mouth - and out onto the couch as well.


"Tell them to take the drain tunnels. Troopers are brutal, but stupid. Why do you think I took a cab? No one in their right mind would take a cab to escape somewhere under Imperial control. Besides, by the time they figure out which company, I'll be long gone." Jashin watched the man bring up some kind of complicated holographic droid interface, running through various routes and plans. This amused Jashin more than anything. Jashin was the kind of sentient who didn't hesitate, who leapt before he looked - and, somehow, tended to land on his feet. This man in front of him struck him as the kind that meticulously coordinated and plotted. In other words, the antithesis to Jashin. When the man offered a joint, Jashin shook his head, refusing. "Nah, my vice is the drink. Speaking of..." Standing Jashin stumbled his way outside, pilfering one of the bottles of wine from the speeder that had pulled up; the cargo of said speeder hadn't gone unnoticed, and Jashin was intent on being at least half drunk for this entire fiasco. Returning from the speeder, Jashin wrestled with the foil and old world cork on the bottle, and was just in time to hear the next question.


Glancing up, Jashin took in the display noting the earlier ISB operations ships. "One of those? Yeah. I can steal it. It'll be difficult, though. Those are Guardian-class light cruisers...heavy armor, heavy shields, and armed with heavy weaponry. Real mean punch in a small package." Rolling the bottle around in his hands, Jashin shrugged at the man. "So what? I was already planning on stealing one. You're going to have to elaborate on "crap ton of credits" if you want me to go along with this."

With a level of stoic patience that perhaps only an Umbaran Jedi could master, Vanna Hao simply willed the force to close the speeder door on Jashin's shinbone.

"Son of a Kath hound!" Dropping the blaster, the pain, while not monumental, was an absolute surprise. Rolling onto his back, his eyes watering, he held his bruised leg in both hands, hissing between his teeth. "Blue bitch!"

Jashin...I told you that the force had plans for you. You, apparently, just weren't ready yet. It guided me, however, back into your life...but not before it guided me somewhere else." Dipping a hand into her robes, she retrieved a leather bound journal, holding it to the alien. "I was moved by the force to dig deeper...to search for the truth. I had to know why you were in my visions. Why the force had told me that a great force warrior would fall from the sky - and that you were that warrior. The truth that I found explained all of this, and more..." Vanna paused, shaking her head. "I know now, that my part in all of this was to seek you out. To seek you out once more, and deliver this journal." Pressing the journal into Jashin's hands, she turned on her heel, heading to the villa. "It will change your life, Jashin. It will change every aspect of it. So be sure...very sure...before you read it." And then she was gone, disappearing into the villa.

He was alone. The journal was in his hand, and, silently, Jashin's jaw worked. Why was it, when he was about to leave, about to abandon all sense of duty and moral obligation, something - someone - showed up to stop it? Here he was, once again, being drawn back into these peoples lives. Being posed questions, and supposed answers, to him and his life. He stared at the journal in hand, the leather old, the pages fading. Another war, another battle, another set of peoples and their troubles trying to draw him in, entrap him, and get him killed. He had abandoned this life. Why wouldn't it abandon him? That time had come, and gone. He hadn't always been like this. A morally bankrupt outlaw who'd sell his sister for a glass of gin. He remembered a time when his sword was at his side, his rifle at arms. A master of the arts of combat, a lethal soldier, who would protect his house and planet - even if it meant giving his life to do it. A proud adherent to an ancient tradition of duty and servitude, to the betterment of all. He had sworn an oath to make their world a better place, drive out evil, and stand as a beacon to the people that not only Serenno, but their livelihood, their safety and welfare, would be absolutely and utterly safe. He had been Jashin Rau'Draggo Deveaux, of House Sorreaux, thirteenth of his line, second to his name. None could question his honor. None could question his commitment. And then the day came...the day came to test his sensitivity, and to ascend to the title of lord to sit beside his father. He had failed that test, and in the coming years had devolved further and further into drunkenness and criminal behavior. It was easier to cope, that way. It was easier to say that he had been a failure from birth; after all, a failure from birth would be expected to fail. This was a far easier and gentler truth than someone who had dedicated every fiber of their being to their planet, their home, their family - who had dedicated every moment to honor and duty...and then fell far short of the mark. Becoming an embarrassment, and someone to be pitied.

The journal was in hand, and, slowly, he opened it to see inside. Leather and old world paper, the hand written Firrerrese inside was unmistakably his father's. The journal seemed to be a diary, detailing personal thoughts, and moments in his life. There was no doubt that it was authentic; Dante had hated technology, and had never trusted a machine in his life. Glancing over the notes, he couldn't see anything particularly life changing. Entries on his wife, entries on his three mistresses, entries on battle formations, irritating advisors, etcetera. Vanna had tabbed a particular entry, marked with a sliver of paper. Turning to the entry, he began to read...



Jashin couldn't read anymore. The journal falling out of his hands to the ground, he fell to his knees, animal keen of grief escaping his lips - a true Firrerreo reaction if ever there was one. Tears roiled down his face, and sobs racked his body. A complete and utter existential reaction to a handful of simple words. Years ago, he had gone to the monks, had tried his best to do the exercises, to make his father and his clan proud. He had failed miserably. He remembered keenly his father turning away in disappointment and in anger. He knew now, that it was relief. He remembered how hard his father had pushed him in training, to the peak of his physical abilities and beyond: Jashin always assumed that it was because he was never good enough, and was always disappointing his father - for, no matter how hard he trained, how accurate his shot was, or how strong his swing was...his father always criticized. He understood, now, that Dante had done it out of love, so that he would survive the trials of his clan as best he could. They were dangerous without force sensitivity, and his sons had to be ready - beyond ready - for the danger they would encounter. He remembered his father dying, a stern look on his face, and a set of lips pressed into a thin line. He understood now, that he had trying to hold back the great secret of what he had done from his boys. And that his father had taken the words to his grave, content to let his boys think he was an unloving father than to ever put them in the sights of their grandfather.

Grief, hard and pure, wracked Jashin. He would stay beside the speeder, likely until Vanna came back. To distraught to move.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Walking back to the villa, wiping away her own tears - for she heard the Firrerreo and his grief - Vanna smiled brightly at the former Jedi who cradled his head on the couch. Adieumus Matango, "Adi" for short. She knew him on sight...he wasn't exactly popular with the order at the moment. Nor was his group popular with most people in the galaxy. But this was no time for that, and Vanna was not that kind of Jedi; she saw a sentient who was in shock and in grief over what had happened. Such a being was not evil, as some would have her believe. Desperate, perhaps. Lost, most likely. Grief stricken, and bearing too much weight...undeniably. But not evil. Without so much as an introduction, she stoically chastised the man. Never raising her voice, never making a gesture - always calm, collected, and in control.

"You blame yourself? That the presence of you, and yours, is responsible for this? Truly you are lost, and have lost your objectivity and control, as the Jedi say. Had the First Order not come here, then they would have killed and slaughtered somewhere else. It is because they came here, that something can be done about them. It is because they killed these people, of all people in the universe, that they will face judgement - judgement according to the destiny the force has set aside for them. And you, Adieumus Matango, are an agent of that judgement..."

Vanna turned in the doorway, then, turning her back to the man - the strongest show of outright disapproval the woman would probably ever muster.

"But you are only an agent of the force, so long as you act like one. So stand up, stop feeling sorry for yourself, unclip your saber, and get to work doing what you were destined to do. Stop bearing the weight of the galaxy on your shoulders like you own a monopoly on it...it is a disservice to the dead, and a disservice to the people who fight beside you. I don't care what you call yourself...but as long as you feel sadness and grief over such wanton destruction, then you have an undeniable duty to do something about it. For this reason...you are no enemy to me, or the order. This person on this couch, though? That's an enemy, and an insult, to every force-user everywhere."

And without a further word or glance, she walked out of the door, and headed back to the speeder, quietly waiting for Jashin to recover.

Raven stood beside Adieumus, watching the news broadcast with a frown. She knew the First Order could be brutal but she hadn't seen it up close like this before. Mind, the Jedi Master had seen some cruel things- but at least there was a purpose for it. This, there was no planning involved with this. There was no excuse for it, and inside, it broke the Jedi's heart as she felt the life force of people who had nothing to do with them, blink out of existence.

"Adi, make it stop." She found herself wanting to shout. For an instant- she wanted to shout at them all. Why did they come to this planet, after attacking a First order base ? Why did they put these innocent people at risk?

No one's really innocent, Master Alora

She blinked rapidly but refused to look away. She knew the dark words well- from a foe she never could quite defeat from so many years ago. The memory did not make her feel any better. No one deserved to die like the people on the broadcast- except, maybe, the people killing them. She didn't want to dishonor them by hiding from what was happening, but at least for now, she couldn't find words to say- which almost never happened.





Anna didn't need to see the broadcast to know the horrors plaguing Theed. She saw it all quite well- hours ago. She probably even had a memory of the event stored away in the Array.
It didn't matter. None of it mattered.
The only significant thing she knew was those people- and this crew, were being killed and hunted down like animals- because of her- because of what she was, and what she could do. Never before had so many people suffered the consequences of her existence. And through all the knowledge and understanding of the future- above knowing how futile everything eventually ended up being, knowing she was the causing factor for the ending of so many potential futures- hurt. She felt dizzy, sick, and she couldn't figure out if it was from pushing herself too far- or from sheer guilt. And all because she tried to play god- three years ago, on the swampy planet of Dagobah. It felt like an eternity ago.

Going outside for her would be too dangerous, so she found herself alone- sitting in one of the bedrooms, cross legged on the floor, trying to meditate, but really holding her arms to herself shivering in the visions that viciously plagued her mind. At least right now the Array wasn't helping to hold them back.
Pulling the blindfold off her face, she looked down at the dagger setting beside her and frowned.

I never had these feelings when I was with you...

She murmured tightly. After a long, almost envious look at the demonic blade, the Seer put the blindfold back over her eyes and struggled to clear her mind of what was happening miles away.
She had to be aware- because even more was about to happen, and they had to be prepared for it.





Not really being a doctor had it's advantages. Farris had grabbed the one person he cared about in the area after the blase- and sped out of the city, without the bleeding heart of a true physician holding him back.

It's ok lavi. We're going to fix it Lavi. Stay awake.

He held the injured Skytri close to him, careful to support her broken wing so it wouldn't warp it's mending process.
The Polydroxol never even entered the Villa, recalling the medical bay onboard the sun would have at least most of what he needed- at least for now. He just walked right onboard the ship, never once stopping to explain himself or to ask what was going on.

Once inside the med bay, he gently placed the woman on a table and started dosing her with pain killers and a sedative. Ok. You can sleep now- sleep my friend. Everything's going to be fine.

At least he hoped so. He'd mended some pretty crazy injuries- but he'd never actually tried to properly mend an appendage so important as a wing. Obviously he kept this doubt away from his carefully sculpted face as he began to gently bind and set her wing.

Let Naboo burn- His friend would fly again, and those who were responsible for her injury would pay for it. He felt the dark tendrils of revenge start to grow again, clinching around his heart- setting him on a single minded course of action.

And he felt.... like himself again.

*So that was it then. The First Order had come here to get at them, and ended up laying waste to Theed. It was just another reminder of the fact that there were certain factions in the galaxy that were utterly without mercy or pity. It sickened him to think that yet another wannabe Empire had risen up and was now attempting to put the galaxy in a stranglehold in their quest for power. They had to be stopped...

Atton got up and walked over as Adi brought up the schematics of one of the First Order vessels. It was smaller than some Star Destroyers he had seen. Adi was right when he said there'd be more First Order forces arriving soon, but when he said that his plan was to steal the whole damned thing, Atton had to shake his head. For a split second, he thought that this might be some kind of insane joke. As talented at causing trouble as their group was, taking on an entire Star Destroyer's crew, even one of the smaller ones sounded like a suicide mission.

By the Force he was serious...

Atton crossed his arms.*"So let me get this straight. We're just going to waltz into orbit and somehow take control of a whole damn Star Destroyer using just our wits and some fancy tech gadgets. That sounds like a damn suicide mission to me."*Then again, taking on the secret lab on Etti IV also sounded like a suicide mission, and they'd come out of that one all right...mostly. Besides, this was a way to stick it to the FIrst Order, and there was no way he was passing up on that. He shrugged.*"I'm in. When do we leave?"