Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on Apr 25, 2013 16:47:28 GMT -8
The Residential Quarters of the Praxeum span the lowest two levels, and can be categorised into four broad types.
PILOTS' QUARTERS
Closest to the Hangar bay on the ground level are the pilot's quarters - the very same rooms that had once billeted the famous pilots of Red and Gold Squadron at the time they destroyed the Death Star. These rooms typically serve as barracks for the defensive squadrons based on planet, and many Jedi Aces, including some of the pilots of Dragon Squadron. Their location grants them quickest access to the Hangar. Whereas the military barracks are often utilised in rotation and therefore are arranged with simple function in mind, usually consisting of groups of two-person bunk rooms surrounding communal refresher facilities, the permanent residences of the Jedi Aces and Dragon Squadron pilots tend to be larger, personalised dwellings more akin to the Jedi Quarters, often extending into two rooms with their own en suite facilities.
STUDENT'S QUARTERS
Spread across levels one and two, rooms categorised as Student's Quarters are the most numerous in the Praxeum. Every Student, Initiate, and Padawan of the Yavin IV Praxeum is assigned their own, personal bedroom to use and decorate as they will. The initial interior is rather spartan in nature, consisting of only a bed (appropriately sized to account for differences in species), a desk and chair, a small closet and accompanying wardrobe (where a student will find his first set of traditional robes), and little else. Some of these dormitories are meant for single students, and Padawan level trainees are always granted their own private rooms, while others live in a paired setting where a second set of each piece of furniture can be found. Refreshers and Showers are often shared between two to four different rooms.
JEDI QUARTERS
Located predominantly on the second level, with just a few examples of this category near the student's quarters on the ground level, are the rooms of the Jedi Knights and Masters based at the Praxeum. The rooms vary in size, but are generally spacious one-room affairs with small ensuite refresher facilities. Some of the rooms have been expanded to two rooms, providing rudimentary social areas, and usually house the Praxeum's most senior Jedi. These rooms are often customised by their owners, and it is very rare to see any two rooms looking the same.
GUEST FACILITIES
The guest facilities within the Praxeum are simple but comfortable, with rooms able to house a wide variety of species with their own personal environmental needs. Almost always single-person rooms, most of the guest quarters are situated four to a communal refresher facility. Most of the guest rooms can be found on the first level, though a few larger quarters are available on the second level, and include en suite refreshers.
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Lita Trykk
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Affiliation: Iridonian Empire
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Post by Lita Trykk on Apr 30, 2013 17:01:49 GMT -8
*Dawn came to the Praxeum in a slow and lethargic sort of way, the halls darkened by the heavy fall of rain from black clouds that stretched horizon to horizon. The rain fell in sheets upon the jungle moon, a soothing and constant thousand-voice whisper within the stone walls that brought with it no wind, no thunder, and no relief from the sultry heat.
Most of the students and faculty were not awake yet at this hour, and those few that were would be content to move with as little urgency as the humid day itself promised to give. But there was a soundless shadow that moved in solitude, cast in a darker light than those of the Jedi around her. She strode with slow determination, a reluctant intent evident in the way that she clutched the inert staff at her hip. She had been avoiding the dormitories of the praxeum since her arrival on Yavin IV days ago, but she could not put this off forever, and it was not in a Zabrak's nature to delay either decision or action. If she could not face it now, five decades later, then, so be it.
She moved down the furthest wing of the private rooms of Padawans, the memories of her past like a presence lingering at her shoulder.*
*She slowed to a stop in front of the door, its arching frame coated in a fine layer of dust. The room had not been used in some time. There were some resonating echoes within the Force that could not be so easily exorcised, even after all of these years. She released the latch, pushed the door inward and stepped into the small chamber.*
*She leaned out against the stone sill, the downpour soaking her dark hair with rivulets of water streaming around her orat. She couldn't breathe in this sweltering heat, and she drew in slow lungfuls of air. The sparse furnishings of the room were covered in ghostly white sheets and stacked in storage against one wall, but they were not the same furnishings from before. The room didn't even look the same as before, but she could feel it. Icy cold fingers, soft whispers in her mind, oily darkness beginning to well from every pore of her body. She pushed away from the open window to face the door.*
*She cried out and fell to her knees, slapping her hands against the scratched stone. Lightning crackled from her palms in an increasing manifestation of the dark side, causing the shadows to dance against the walls. A darker swirl of clouds was beginning to gather and spiral upon the ceiling above her.*
*Her choked scream was lodged in her throat. She had run, that night. Taken off into the endless rain through the wild jungles of Yavin IV, with her master's weapon clutched in her small hands, and just...ran. A small labor outpost picked her up the day after, a child caked in mud and mulch, where a pair of smugglers took pity and removed her from the moon's surface. She never returned to this place. Until now. The spiraling clouds above her began to thicken.*
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Apr 30, 2013 18:01:34 GMT -8
~ " Oh no you don't."
Hands clasped firmly over Lita's, ignoring the immediate jolt of pain that made his muscles go tense from the electricity rushing towards a new source. His teeth were ground against themselves, being driven to his knees, but his hands refused to let go. The thought had never even crossed his mind.
He had been electrocuted before. It was not a pleasant experience. The searing heat, the loss of control, the spasms and convulsions: it destroyed any concept of thought. You could only exist in the moment, that moment, as your insides were filled with fire and your throat wouldn't dare let you scream.
But none of that concerned him.
If it could be Force Generated, it could be Force Repelled.
When he first felt her enter this room, his feet had carried him there as swiftly as he could manage. Every step, he heard her grow quieter. He saw her grow darker. He tasted her anger and fear. It only made him run faster. No longer was he going to sit back and just let things happen when it came to his relationship with her. He was done standing by. No more watching his life happen around him: it was going to get a piece of his damn mind nowadays, whether Life liked it or not.
So it came to be that Jago Pulastra was in the room with Lita Trykk, struggling to keep his fingers locked around her palms. It burned: the contact of pure energy to feeble flesh. The spirit in this man, however, was something that not even a lightning bolt could dissuade. Even as he was driven down, even as he could barely speak, his grip only tightened, refusing to let her go.
He couldn't breathe. The shadows in the room ... They were oppressive. A vise strangling him, the Darkness was a weight upon his being, his thoughts, his emotions. It called to him, a sickeningly sweet seductress begging for rage and lust, selfishness and power, greed and terror. He laughed in its face.
It was no dark thought that brought him here, upon feeling Lita's struggle with her inner emotions. He did not come to chastise her. Not to lecture her. Not to be enraged at bringing The Dark Side to Yavin IV. No. He came because his closest friend, his dearest companion, called, whether she realized it or not. In no way was Jago about to turn her aside. She needed him now, more than ever. What had called her to this room, he did not know. She had been avoiding this part of the Temple since she first came to Yavin IV, finding any reason or excuse to brush over it, sometimes not even saying a word as she strode past, not a break in her stride. Whatever was here, it was bad. A memory, a vision: it mattered very little to him.
Let the sparks turn him to ashes. Let the inky blackness crush his very core. He'd suffered worse before, and he'd suffer again.
For her.
" It's me, Lita!" he forced out through gritting teeth, forcing his eyes to stay open so that they could ensnare her own, hopefully bringing her back to the world of the present.
His voice was harsh: authoritative. He asked her nothing, because he wasn't going to give her a chance to try and reason, to explain. Not now, at least. Right now, he needed her to listen. He needed her to see and feel just who it was that was risking himself to cleanse her nightmare. He was firm with her: Zabraks understood that intention. Gentleness wouldn't work, and was liable to get himself killed. No, Lita didn't need Jago Pulastra, Jedi Master. She needed Jago Pulastra, Jedi Knight.
" It's Jago! Now wake up and pull yourself together!"~
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on May 1, 2013 21:26:24 GMT -8
*Light crashed against darkness, an explosion like that of a rushing wave of magma striking against searing rocks to send up a plume and spray of fire. The moment he gripped her, her hands locked onto his own with an iron clasp. No longer being directed into the stone, arcs of lightning now snapped around them with claps of thunder, most of the power now punishing the Jedi's flesh. Lost within this torrent, Lita's only thought was to unleash. To annhilate.
A voice called into the darkness, familiar to her, but so distant. Lightyears away. It called her name, and was filled with pain. Her eyes lifted to his, blue that pierced down to her center. The light that emanated from such eyes stung her own, dissolving away the comforting shadows that concealed the stains of her mistakes and misdeeds, shedding an adjudicating light upon them instead. But she did not shy from them, to skitter away like an insect that did not want to be seen. In a swirling sea of blinding chaos where no paths could be found, this light was the only pillar of stability, guiding her mind back to awareness...
The scent of burnt flesh joined that of ozone and fresh rain in the air of the small chamber.*
" It's Jago! Now wake up and pull yourself together!"
*Her eyes snapped open, the pupils within bloodred pools enlarging as focus returned to them. Focus, and alarm.*
"Jago-"
*The name came out on a gasp that brought no air to her lungs. She immediately released his hands and attempted to pull away, but his grip on her was unrelenting. How had her control been so mislaid?! She clenched her teeth, biting against her tongue until she tasted blood as she battled with her own passions that had unleashed this energy. It is one of the most painful experiences a force user can suffer, drawing this build up of destructive power back into one's own self.
The electricity dissipated with a final flash of blue sparks, leaving behind only small, drifting tendrils of smoke. The crushing darkness above them broke apart, gradually losing its momentum until it, too, had faded to nothing. It was only when Lita could trust herself to that her fingers curled once more around Jago's severely burned hands, and she pulled him against her rain-dampened hair at her neck, cursing in the words of her own, long-dead language.*
"Jendnouk Jeedai ay'Vyshtal <Foolish Jedi Knight>!"
*She closed her eyes tightly and rested her temple gently against his.*
"...Jendnouk shuree, ido <Foolish me, too>. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Jago. I thought I could face it alone."
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Jago
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Post by Jago on May 2, 2013 7:55:06 GMT -8
~ The surge of electricity did very little to help the young Jedi Master, even after Lita go finally and drew him close. The room was spinning, his field of vision seeming to flicker in and out, as if changing the frequencies on a HoloProjector and coming up with static. He worked his jaw slowly: everything felt numb, his body sedated as it went through the natural action of pumping his every cell with adrenaline to stave off pain and shock. Grabbing someone unleashing the raw power of lightning was probably not the smartest move Jago could have done. Then again, he wasn't necessarily the smartest Jedi in the Temple. He saw his friend was in trouble, and acted on raw instinct.
He had tried his damnedest to redirect and control the flow of energy, a Jedi technique known as tutaminis, meant to mitigate the flow of harmful energy into and out of the body. Sadly, Jago was no master at the skill (much to his chagrin as a being mostly composed of the raw, mystical power known simply as The Force), and had only managed to at least keep his heart from overloading and stopping. He could feel it pounding against his ribcage, a drumroll growing louder in his ears with each passing second. Lita's touch nearly made him jump as he looked down at his hands.
They were raw, yellow, already beginning to bubble and crack. He had unleashed the energy of Force Lightning once. Once. It had taken him days before he could even curl his fingers again. Thankfully, this time the damage was expected, somewhat halted, and much less severe than a direct application of the power. The pain would come later, once his body had time to relax and assess what had just happened to it. For now, he could accept his blistered palms and fingers, much as they would surely sting (to put it mildly) after a few minutes. He was certainly concerned that his hands were not red, as he could only hope they would be. It was his arms that had that saving grace. That being the case, what little Jago knew of medicine meant that the tissue damage in his fingers and palms went deep, just like the last time. When the pain finally set in, it would not be pretty. Not in the slightest. If that was the price he had to pay to snap Lita out of a torrential cyclone of the Darkness itself, that was well worth it to him. He knew his priority should have been to get to a medbay, to get himself looked over and treated immediately before the headaches and muscle seizures set in, but ...
Ahh, how comfortable she was to rest against. When she drew him close, he could only nestle against her neck, woozy and seeing double, but content in his exhaustion. Her hair was cool on his warm skin. With great effort, he lightly wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him as his face slipped against her shoulder. He was trying to catch his breath, to form words, to make his brain work when it needed to most.
He let out a soft laugh, enjoying her being near, regardless of the circumstances. The Force would hold off the pain for now: that was something he understood well. Out of most Jedi at the Praxeum, Jago had an uncanny knack for being able to regulate and augment his physical body with energy and strength. It was how he had endured death twice, now: an electrical burn was minor in comparison. Already he could sense the familiar sensation: the natural instinct to draw in, to drink the sweet nectar of life around him. He could taste the trees and grass just outside the stone walls, their dew under the stormy sky being an earthy freshness that coursed its way through his bloodstream. It slowed the pain, calmed his heart some. His ragged breathing evened out slightly with no input from him. Jago let himself slide into a small meditation, willing himself to stay conscious and alert, and The Force, hearing his prayers, answered, wrapping around his figure and piercing kindly under his skin: a ward against the troubles that befell him. It was cool warmth: the breeze on the hottest of days. It had the secondary effect of washing the room in peace as the last of the violent shadow retreated, the presence of the Jedi Master being a powerful and awesome thing.
He drew in a deep, slow breath. Tilted his head back enough so that he could press his forehead to hers. Her scent was comforting: it made him smile. His nose lightly nuzzled against hers, trying to encourage her to open her eyes to the cerulean sky that would be gazing back at her.
" S'okay, Lita," he forced out, sorely wishing for a tall glass of water (of all things).
" You didn't face it alone. I came, didn't I? Maybe not my best entrance ... I give it a six-out-of-ten."
Jago chuckled softly at his own joke, satisfied with just sitting there for a moment with her. He felt tired, so very tired, but also knew he could stay there for days if she needed it.
Stubborn, to the last.~
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on May 2, 2013 14:10:55 GMT -8
*Contrition snaked around her chest, its coiled tail constricting tightly and choking off her air.*
"I am a danger, here. A menace to you."
*She didn't know how he could still be alert, much less in a mood to laugh and make jokes. He obviously failed to understand the gravity of what had occurred. What she had done to him was no small amount of damage. He entered this room, and had he not been able to reach her mind and pull it free of her fear and anger, if that dark power manifesting above them had fallen upon him, just as it had the only other time she had unleashed it in her long life, he would have most certainly been killed by her hand. She had her dark sight, but the blackness of those clouds obscured even her vision. Like any berserk rage, she would have not had control of herself, and she would likely have, in her confusion, repeated history with her own weapon against Jago's neck.
Her foolish pride, she always thought she was in control. She had never taken any action against Jago that was not perfectly of her own design. But now, to her own endless horror and chagrin, she understood how slippery that control was, and how close she came to killing the man she- Her thoughts cut off there, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a fierce scowl.*
"I would have killed you."
*Not 'almost,' or 'could have,' but 'would have killed you.' She hadn't. He was alive, his injuries recoverable, but it was her own potential for carrying it out that appalled the Zabrak beyond anything else. Dav Man'Sell would likely banish her from the academy for this, or worse, but she could only agree with the decision. Jago had moved slightly against her neck as she held him against her, his own arms resting lightly about her middle with no strength in them, before resting his brow against hers. Her eyes opened, a confusing mix of emotions in their depths as they looked into his clear, unclouded ones. Her fingers slid into the tangled locks of his hair, then curled against the white strands. Was he...was he actually enjoying this...? His nose brushed slightly against hers, bringing their faces closer together. She could feel the warmth of his slow breathing, his lips too close to hers. She hissed quietly.
The sound of drums beat in a rhythm that could only be described as tribal, buried somewhere deep in the most draconian part of her mind. Something ancient, and purely Iridonian, had awakened. An instinct that every Zabrak child had, in their earliest years of life, explained to them by an elder clan member, and was warned of so that they understood and would be prepared for when it happened to them. But Jago was no Zabrak. He would not understand what was happening, humans having a far different sort of reaction to such things.
She turned her eyes away from his. Both physically and emotionally, she withdrew from him like the recoil of a whip, refusing to meet his gaze again.*
"Come. I must get you to the medical centre."
*Her voice was oddly rough. Not that she was not frequently rough, but this was...a little moreso. She tucked her shoulder beneath one of his arms, carefully pulling the limb around her shoulders so that she could help him to his feet. Though her body was a great deal more slender than even that of the lean Jedi, a throwback from her mixed blood, she was also built with a heavy density, and about an extra inch of height on him. She pulled him close against her side to aid him in his weakened state, leaving the empty dorm room full of dark memories behind.*
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Paden von'ki
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The greatest leaders are not always the first to come foreward
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Post by Paden von'ki on May 12, 2013 10:46:59 GMT -8
*A dim light, lights a scond flow dorm room shared by Paden and Kaz. Paden sits at his desk reading about the finer points of Lightsabre combat and defence his face half lite by the lanturn on the desk. The young teen was a tall and slender and was wearing his traditional robes but not his cloak which was hung near the door next to Kaz's. He had been studying at the temple since the age of 3 and was yet to become a padawan. His days had been spent pooring over text and holocrons and training from the teachers at the academy. He had made a bond with Kaz a 17 year old female human from naboo. who had been at the academy the same time as Paden and the jedi allowed them to be room mates since. They were like brother and sister and trained together in many things, At this moment Kaz was laid on her bed reading from her datapad.*
"Do you read the latest news"
*Kaz ask the back of Padens head*
"You know am not up on events Kaz"
*Kaz shakes her head and puts the pad down and sits up*
"You should pay more attention to whats going on in the galaxy. What if you get ask about current events or something happens?"
*Paden stops what he was doing and turn round to look at Paden. She was sat cross legged and hands clasped together, Her red hair tied up in a pony tail.*
"Ok i give in whats going on in the big wide world?"
"Nothing really apart from a few bounties flying round. Dont worry am sure we will be out there soon"
"I have faith Kaz that we will be call on soon i have a feeling"
*Paden smiles and get up and heads to his bed and lays down his eyes heavy from his studies that day. Kaz herself let out a yawn as if know what he was going to say. The both smiled at each other and laid the head on the soft pillows and fell asleep. Kaz was out like a light as they had been lightsabre training today and as normal Paden head made her work hard. Paden himself was going over moves in his head untill he surcome to his sleep*
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Paden von'ki
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Post by Paden von'ki on May 13, 2013 4:53:21 GMT -8
*Paden woke to a rubber ball bounch of the wall and hitting his head it was Kaz way of waking him up if she was up before Paden. She sat grining to herself with a small movement of her hand to guide the ball.*
"OK ok am up am up"
*Paden pulled himself out of bed and rubs his eyes, he focus on Kaz who was still grining at him. He waves and grabs his things so he could use the refreasher which was 3 doors down. Paden leaves the room and walks to the shared refreasher and begins to get cleaned up ready for the day. He had been thinking about what had been going on with the Mando's, Which felt like a lightyear away from his life but he was not to know what was about to happen to his small life as a jedi.
While Paden gets ready Kaz was all ready for the day and was sat meditating beside her bed, she could feel a growing danger around yavin something was coming or was already here she couldn't tell. Both her and Paden had not been keep in touch with what was going on in the galaxy or even there on planet. Thinking about she had not seen many trainers around and her and paden had been training alone for a while now. So once Paden was back they would go find out what was going on in the galaxy.
Paden strolls back in and puts his robes on and Kaz explains her feelings and they both leave and head to find out what is going.*
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Dr. Levi Rose
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Post by Dr. Levi Rose on May 21, 2013 18:31:11 GMT -8
"This is not right," Levi mumbled to himself, standing in the doorway to his room. Guest quarters at the Jedi Temple were not what he expected. Not by a long shot. I've stayed at hotels with no beds- and they had mini-coolers.
Given the assignment he had for the next three months as a newly attached and temporary physician, he hoped for comfort. Not luxury, not that. These were Jedi after all, and as much as they made him nervous to be around, he still made it a point to understands them and their ways. Wealth didn't come easy to them. They weren't traders or mercenaries, so a lot of their service personnel and supplies came from the public dole. Hard working taxpayers across the galaxy were happily financing a peacekeeping force that demanded the funding of an entire battle-fleet and still lived in poverty.
Somebody aught to do an expose piece on them. Maybe the money is going someplace it shouldn't.
Small chance of that. Resigning himself to a three month stint on a humid jungle world surrounded by militant pacifists, Levi unpacked two of his three cases immediately, hanging his coats on the tiny coat rack, throwing his scrubs into a dresser, and putting his toiletries away in the refresher unit. The Third case, a hard, black box with a combination lock, he slid beneath the bed. It always gave him a headache lugging it through security and the present company he shared the guest quarters with (three squads of Republic security personnel on rotation into the system) would be keen to confiscate its contents in minutes after he opened it up. No bombs, bullets or blasters lay within. Just his life's treasure. His sanity in liquid, bottled, mind-numbing form during his three month stint on this green rock of a moon.
It was a requirement of his that he never travel to any new world in the Outer Rim without a fully stocked wet bar in tow, and he'd suffer any amount of baggage fees and inspections to bring that bar with him.
I get the feeling I'll be needing it soon, too, he thought. He'd not met any of the Jedi representatives since they touched down an hour ago- just hangar personnel and some security officers who saw the new troops billeted until the squads rotating out got their gear bagged and tagged for the trip coreward. But he could sense that whoever ran the place probably preferred his people to be dry as a dusty rock whether or not they were non-coms.
Levi took a glance at his chronometer. His first shift wasn't due to start at the med bay for another nine hours. Not enough time to get a whole lot of nectar in him and sleep, so he compromised. He'd mixed a little Corellian vodka in with his sports drink while up on Yavin station. He smiled as he lay back on the stiff bed, reaching for the punch-red bottle on his night stand.
Just enough to do the job. A little tipsy never killed nobody.
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Dav Man'Sell
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Post by Dav Man'Sell on May 24, 2013 17:37:30 GMT -8
 The Mandalorians have brought war to the Galaxy once more. Under the leadership of Mand'alor ASHRAH INTALBO, and his General CORR VHETT, they have begun a campaign against the Galaxy's Force Users. The Jedi World of Yavin IV was the first hit, a strike at one of the greatest Jedi strongholds. The Mandalorians took YAVIN STATION, the mighty orbital defence platform, thanks to a brilliant infiltration strategy by DUKE AUSTRALIS, and under the order of Jedi Master DAV MAN'SELL, the Jedi forces retreated from orbit. With the Jedi fleets scattered, the Mandalorians took their attack to the surface.
However, the Jedi defences were not so easily overcome. With starfighter cover lead by Jedi Master JAGO PULASTRA, and ground defences overseen by Jedi Knight ADI MATANGO and Falleen strategist TZA'UAX, the Jedi were able to force the Mandalorians to withdraw to orbit. However, the defence is not without sacrifice - redeemed former Dark Sider DACE CONCORDIA, at the beginning of his path to reclaim the mantle of Jedi, was slain by the Mand'alor in bloody, vicious combat.
Now the Mandalorians are settling in for a long siege on the Praxeum, blockading the planet and seeking constantly to take out the shield generator and ion cannons that form the backbone of the Praxeum's defence. Dav, Jago, and the other resident Jedi of Yavin lead the hard fought and desperate defence, whilst Adi, working with Master WILL SON'TIR and Jedi Knight DIAMONTE TUHLUTE, and the Jedi Watchmen, seeks to prepare the Jedi, and the worlds of the Republic, for the inevitable assault to come.... |
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Jun 27, 2013 12:36:37 GMT -8
~ Day One had been hell.
When the Mandalorians arrived, the Jedi Defenders of Yavin IV were lucky that anyone escaped at all. That the majority of the Station holding orbit above the Temple had been evacuated was both a blessing and a miracle. A miracle earned through an untold amount of bloodshed, but a miracle nonetheless. The initial fighting had devoured most of the stalwart members of the Jedi Peacekeeping Taskforce: when "inventory" was finally taken on the first day of the blockade, the leaders of the tiny Moon quickly realized that it was not a matter of if the Mandos overwhelmed them, but when. Food, Ammunition, Fuel, everything they needed to mount a staunch resistance would be slowly drained away if they couldn't breach the ring of battleships currently surrounding the Fourth Moon of Yavin.
It was a pressing weight on the mind of Jago Pulastra, Jedi Ace and Master of the Praxeum. He had been up in those stars during the spearhead, slicing a path of fire and destruction through Mandalorian ships. He had witnessed the destruction of the Uptempo and Brilliant Guardian; morale-centered flagships of the beleaguered defenders, under Mando Guns and Steel. He felt the life of the hundreds of pilots who died rush from them, swept away in a torrent of confusion, fear, and pain.
And it did nothing to stem the tide. Mandalorians were here, on his home. They were creeping through the trees, hiding in the streams. They were abusing their skies and caverns. They were turning a peaceful, wild, raw landscape into a military staging ground.
It was very hard to remain centered in this tumultuous warzone. Even today, the first day of being trapped in their hallowed home, the Jedi still resisted their enemies with unmatched vigor and zeal. Jago himself had finally hopped out of the cockpit of his starfighter for the first time in hours. His legs had been wobbly, so used to the crushing pressures of High-G manuevers and instantaneous reflexes that he had forgotten what it felt like to stand on his soles.
He felt tired. Incomparably so. His hair was matted down from being kept tight under a flight helmet for the better part of 24 hours, if not more. It stuck to his scalp, clung to his forehead, dry sweat making the normally soft and disheveled mane into a dry and cracked mop of defeat. His tell-tale cocksure grin was replaced by straight lips, neither pleased with his victories nor mourning the recently dead. Jago simply ... was.
What he desired most of all was sleep. Merciful, dreamless sleep, now that night had fallen, the moons having been hanging in the sky for several hours now. A quick hop in the shower, maybe a bite of a nutrient bar, and his bed. He couldn't save Yavin if he was run completely ragged, and The Force only helped his fatigued state so much. That he had thrown himself into battle so soon after just being released from the MedBay also complicated matters: old injuries were starting to add up. He wasn't as fast as he remembered, as quick-thinking. But that was just the stress, he told himself. He was in the prime of his life, a valiant sword piercing the clouds like a hero out of a child's fairy tale.
... But that wasn't true. He was a man who saw good people, good friends, die alone and afraid, and it sickened him inside that it was all over some stupid prejudice that a karking kath hound of a bucket head had lodged in his brain. If he wanted the Jedi, fine: They were ready for them. Let the Mandalorians come; Jago would slay them by the thousands, and they would beg The Force for forgiveness. Leave the others out of it; the people who spent every day doing their best just to make the Galaxy a little bit quieter, a little safer.
His anger could have been attributed to weariness and stress, but Jago knew better. He understood that it sat deep in his soul, a burning, holy fire intent on turning Ashrah and his cronies into cinders for their unspeakable atrocity.
They came for the Jedi. Unfortunate enough for them, they found Jedi. Selfless, legendary warriors that wielded the power of a Star itself, turning Wars into their plaything. Jago would make it so that Yavin IV would be the last mistake they ever made.
He finally came to his own door, his hand slapping against the control panel to open the durasteel portal without any measure of subtlety. His flight suit felt stiff. Dry blood flecked his cheek: the remnant of laser fire rocking his fighter and crashing his head into the stiff canopy of his X-Wing, the gash still visible under his right eye. His plethora of pains were finally adding up as the adrenaline left his body at the sight of his dark abode, glad to finally have one, brilliant, necessary moment of peace.
However, there was a presence already inside. He could feel it: one he knew well. It shocked him, made him pause by the entry as he pondered why she would be here, of all places. Cautiously, he stepped into the unlit room, his icy eyes taking in the dim setting to try and pry her figure out of the dark.
" Li- ... Lita? Is that you ..?"~
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Sidara Vercopa
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Post by Sidara Vercopa on Jul 4, 2013 16:31:22 GMT -8
".... it will be fine... it will be fine. " She chanted in her head. Her boots echoed on the hardwood floors of the guest quarters. One, two, three, four... seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, turn around and pace back across the room.
"Gods I wish I hadn't quit smoking. I need a cigarette... or a drink. Really, Sid? You had to give up both vices at the same time??"
She wrung her hands as she paced back across the room. "Corr will figure this out. He will come through for me, he always does." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Ok.. a plan. She needed a plan. Stay incognito as long as she could. She couldn't let them know she was Mandalorian. Luckily she had left her armor in CAT. She was always bad about wearing her buy'ce.. but a chance to not wear any of it? It was good that she had decided to wear her "civilian" clothes.
Sid stopped in the middle of the room. "First things, first. Kirith. I need to talk to Kirith."
Sid pulled out her comlink: Kirith, I need you and I need you now. We have a problem. A big one.
Sid slipped her comlink in it's holster on her belt and continued to pace the room, waiting on Kirith.
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Jul 4, 2013 17:15:24 GMT -8
Five minutes later, the door opened, Kirith quickly entering the room, promptly shutting and locking the door behind her after looking down the hallway.
Almost immediately she began pacing back and forth across the room. "Sid, this isn't good. From what I heard around the mess hall it's looking like it's an all out siege out there. If they find out about you and Corr, we are royally screwed - even if we did tell them we're only here because we heard the beer was good. Nevermind the fact that I have a history of working for the Mandalorians."
She paused her pacing and looked up at Sid. "Have you heard anything from Corr? Any reason why they randomly would decide to attack the Jedi? Because I thought Corr liked Jedi."
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Sidara Vercopa
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Post by Sidara Vercopa on Jul 4, 2013 17:22:08 GMT -8
Sidara chewed on the inside of her cheek. Everything Kirith said was legit.
I know, Kirith, I know. I haven't heard anything from him, and I have no idea. I've been with you all this time.... but if they find my armor... and connect you to me, we aren't leaving Yavin alive, I can tell you that.
Sid paced some more.
We need to leave the planet. How can we leave the planet, Kirith? I need to get to Corr. He needs to know where we are. He must know we are in trouble... at least I hope he does.
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Lita Trykk
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Post by Lita Trykk on Jul 8, 2013 13:27:19 GMT -8
*Of course, the coldness makes sense, Iridonians are accustomed to devastation in war. It could not possibly wear on their morale in the same way. The Zabrak has been through many of them, has witnessed it destroy entire cities. Entire planets. Wortan herself remains an apocalyptic centerpiece to what Iridonia endures decade after decade. The whispers echoed softly off of the burnt hangar walls as she and the patrol that had chosen to follow her made their way out of the night-darkened jungles of Yavin, Lita's image wavering like an insubstantial shadow as the effects of the still-warm stygium crystals in her weapon had yet to wear off. Battle-hardened, unaffected, probably feels even more at home now than before-
Her garnet eyes flashed icily over her shoulder, the words ceasing.
It wasn't true what they said. None of it. Iridonians grieved just as fiercely for the blood spilled, for the homes that were lost, for the way of life that seemed so difficult to piece back together time and time again. Her sense of horror was no less potent. Her spirit hurt as much as theirs, her shock just as palpable that first moment when the Mandalorians poured into the hangar to begin a senseless slaughtering of Jedi pilots and destruction of their ships. And she did not worry any less for the ones she cared for that might have been lost in the initial surge, for Tebana and Dav, for the children they taught, for Jago. But true to an Iridonian's sense of single-minded purpose, she acted without hesitation, fought back as battle precognition and honed instincts melded into one. A blur of bloodlust followed, screams of blasterfire and lightsabers slicing the air. And when the invaders broke to retreat, Lita did not fall back to help the injured lick their wounds.
She pursued them. Pursued with extreme prejudice, into the sweltering heat and rain that would have blinded the Mandalorians if they had not had the technology of their helms aiding them. Technology that was useless against the Force Stealth techniques she employed. She did not ask for any Jedi warriors to follow her, but wordlessly, some of them did. They followed, perhaps, because in the midst of chaos and uncertainty, Lita moved with intent and purpose; a pinpoint of focus.
They did not return to the temple until they had established a perimeter through guerilla tactics and ambush operations. The Jedi organized a system of patrol shifts, and carved out small, hidden paths to the generators so vital to their survival. She had no authority in this place to lead, or to give orders, but when the knights looked to her for her opinion, they listened to it. She wasn't entirely certain how she felt about that.
Apparently, neither were the Jedi, as some of those who patrolled with her tried to grasp onto reasons and explanations for something they did not understand. She recognized the symptoms of shock. Gossip was better than silence.
She left the hangar behind. Despite the emotional drain, her adrenaline-fueled mind did not particularly want sleep, but her body was numb with fatigue, and covered in jungle muck and other unidentifiable viscous fluids. She could barely hold herself upright. Her eyes lifted to the long corridor that led deeper into the residential areas, but it suddenly seemed too great a distance to make it to her chamber, isolated from the rest of the campus. For a moment, curling up on the floor where she stood seemed a more viable option. Then her gaze lit with recognition upon the door she was outside of. Of course. The Dragon Squadron housed close to the hangar, to their ships. Jago was not making use of his room at the moment, and she'd be close on hand if the Mandalorians broke through the perimeter.
A perfectly sound justification to sleep here instead, and not for any reason of undesirable emotional attachments or concerns for a Jedi who can more than fend for himself in battle and survived enough of them to know how. No concerns whatsoever.
She growled quietly under her breath.*
"Liar."
*Furious as she was with herself, it did not stop her from activating the panel and entering his room.*
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*Her black hair was still damp and curled from the long soak in the refresher, borrowed robes that did not fit her shape thrown on haphazardly before she'd fallen onto the bed face-down, her horned head almost hanging over the foot of it as she laid at the oddest of angles. But she would not be granted the luxury of true sleep, as the thunder of cannon fire shook the walls in incessant intervals.
She groaned and crushed a pillow over her head, but the scent on it was familiar and plagued her thoughts all the worse, so she threw it with unnecessary force across the room. She did not know how much time had passed before she heard the door slide open, but she had not counted very many of the cannon blasts, yet.
The only strength she could muster was to lift her eyes, the rest of her dark form unmoving, to find his ice-blue ones shining in the dark. Then her widening gaze dropped to take in the rest. She'd never seen him after a battle. Never seen the clean and well put-together Jedi stained in blood, clothing rendered, the acrid stench of battle clinging to him. And his own scent, stronger than the blood and smoke put together, filling the room and overpowering everything else. She could smell him as though he were intimately close.
Her stomach twisted into a tight knot, her hearts pumping heated blood through her veins. Her teeth flashed in the darkness with a vicious and animalistic snarl, and she suddenly jerked back as though she had been burned by an unseen fire. She slammed against the stone wall hard enough to send a crack resonating off of it, though the Zabrak did not flinch with any sign of pain. Her words came out as a soft hiss through clenched teeth.*
"Keep your distance, Jedi."
*This was unexpected. Very unexpected. Okay, she had an inkling that this biological reaction might happen, as all Zabraks had been warned of it from a young age, but not now. Not like this, not just from him walking into the room-! She couldn't even work her voice around expressing how relieved she was he was unharmed. All she could hear was the inhuman growl in her throat and the pounding of blood in her ears.
She closed her eyes and covered her mouth and nose with a hand, focusing on steadying her breathing and exherting terrible control over the dangerous violence that welled up within her that had absolutely nothing to do with the Dark Side.*
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Jul 8, 2013 15:15:35 GMT -8
Sidara chewed on the inside of her cheek. Everything Kirith said was legit.I know, Kirith, I know. I haven't heard anything from him, and I have no idea. I've been with you all this time.... but if they find my armor... and connect you to me, we aren't leaving Yavin alive, I can tell you that. Sid paced some more. We need to leave the planet. How can we leave the planet, Kirith? I need to get to Corr. He needs to know where we are. He must know we are in trouble... at least I hope he does. "Leaving the planet might be a bit of a problem. The hanger is in lockdown mode until further notice." She frowned, considering the situation."Worse comes to worst, we may be able to get Vesten to vouch for us - but I haven't seen him since we landed on this planet, so who knows. He might have been killed in the initial attack. I mean, he recognized me - so maybe some other Jedi will too. Although Vesten also said I was doing something with the Sith last time he saw me, so chances are the other Jedi might not be so ... forgiving about my presence here." <<That's putting it mildly>> came the voice of the Other inside her head.Well I don't suppose you have any ideas do you, Oh Most Annoying One?[ she asked it. When no suggestion was offered, Kirith decided to take it as the Other was just as clueless as Sid and Kirith."Maybe we could pretend we're victims? You decided to run away from the Mandalorians, and hired me as a pilot to get you out of there - and we came to Yavin, seeking asylum?" Kirith suggested after considering the matter for a moment. "With Cat's help, I could doctor the logs a bit to make it look like that's the case. If anyone asks if you knew about the attack, you can honestly say no." |
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Sidara Vercopa
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Post by Sidara Vercopa on Jul 10, 2013 5:55:06 GMT -8
Sid chewed on her bottom lip and thought about it. Really, she wasn't coming up with anything better. And lying to the Jedi? So what? If it got them out of this bind, then it was well worth it.
I don't see how we have any other choice, Kirith. They are certainly not going to believe we are here on a beer run, that's for sure.... I mean, be honest. That's pretty far fetched.
Sid sat down on the stool next to her and folded her arms in front of her.
I say go for it. What do we have to lose at this point. What can I do to help?
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Jul 10, 2013 15:49:06 GMT -8
"Well, we've got to stick to the truth as much as possible. Far more likely to slip up. And we want to collaborate stories as much as possible and to feel as truthful as possible. Jedi can sense outright lies, but as long as what you're saying is truth, and you believe it's tru - even if it's only from a certain point of view - I think we can fool them."
She paced back and forth, thinking about it. "You haven't heard from Corr since before we came here, and you didn't know this attack was going to happen - so if we say you and I haven't been in contact with the Mandalorians for some time, that shouldn't be a problem. Ditto with knowing about the attack - that came as much of a surprise to you and me as it did the Jedi I suspect. And Corr would have been the only one we told we were here anyway - and I think he would have told you if he knew you were on the planet, so we can safely say that none of the Mandalorians know we're here."
She paused, thinking about the best way to handle the misdirection regarding why they definitely weren't with the Mandalorians, especially if Sid's Mandalorian past was uncovered. "I have worked with Mandalorians in the past, but after my last mission - I decided I didn't want to be working for them. Truth. Even if it is mostly because Corr paid me quite well for what he put us through. You had also decided after the same mission to leave the Mandalorians - also a truth, because we were leaving for a girls trip around the galaxy. You weren't meaning to leave for good, since you're still doing unspeakable things with Corr that I rather not think about, but you're not near a Mandalorian right now - so we'll go with the verb 'left.'"
She looked up at Sid. "Can you think of anything else they might ask us about? I think mostly everything else we could answer easily enough."
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Jago
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Post by Jago on Jul 11, 2013 11:05:22 GMT -8
~ " My distance? You're in my room."
Jago chuckled wearily, stepping inside (but keeping the light off) as he set his helmet down on the small dining table near the door. Lita felt ... tense. The way she pushed herself into the wall to try and create as much space between them as possible in the tiny domicile, the gruffness of her words ... Was she still angry at him for getting himself hurt on her account?
His eyes were still adjusting to the dark, only able to make out her form amongst the shadows. Wearily, he lowered himself into the seat at the table, his armor making a light tap as it smacked gently into the wooden frame of the chair. She didn't feel ... Right. Not angry. Not ... what was that? It was a sensation Jago had never picked up from her before, the emotion diluted in The For- ... No, not diluted at all. Overwhelming. His presence was causing her some sort of discomfort, but he couldn't quite make it out, so alien was the emotion to him as far as the Zabrak was involved.
He respected her request, though, staying at his table on the complete opposite side of the room from the bed.
For starters.
The flight suit had to come off, and he wasted little time in kicking off his thick boots before undoing the fastenings that secured the jumpsuit around him. It pulled apart at his chest, revealing the plain, white shirt beneath that served little purpose other than comforting his skin against the material on the outside. He paused after drawing his arms out of the long sleeves, keeping an eye on Lita with a soft sigh escaping his lips and breaking the verbal silence that had bolted down the room.
" I'm glad you're okay."
Simple words, but simplicity was what they had built themselves around. A word or two carried far more meaning between Human and Iridonian, and his sincerity was completely clear in the way he focused all of his attention upon her just to deliver the statement. If she had been hurt, or worse ...
Jago didn't want to think about it. He resumed his undressing until the top of scarlet jumpsuit hung off of his hips, an exotic belt that his shirt remained tucked into. The cold air of his dorm felt good upon his heated skin, the aches and pains of the day fading quickly just from the chill, now that they were removed from the humid and stormy environment of the Jungle. Thusly satisfied that he could relax, Jago stood from his seat and made his way over to his bed.
Taking a seat at the very edge of it, Jago rested back on his palms to stretch out his tight back, smiling softly in the dark at his closest of friends.
" Since I landed, I've been hearing talk about a certain Zabrak with black blades who apparently everyone is assuming is a General in the Jay-Pee-Tee from the way she organized the counter-attacks from the Hangar. You uh ... you wouldn't happen to know her, would you?" he grinned with a little more mirth. The tiredness in his bones vanished from being in her presence: he could remain awake the rest of the night if he had to, just from the knowledge of his own eyes that she was safe.
The blue glow of his gaze narrowed a bit, his jumbled thoughts finally registering that there was something he actually didn't know.
" You are okay, though, yes? You weren't injured?"
His own laceration was forgotten in a moment of care towards her. Jago assumed the small talk would at least put both of their minds at ease and help them forget, at least for tonight, that they were stuck in the middle of a warzone where either one of them was going to be called to rush out of that room at any minute. The Jedi silently prayed that this night, such a thing wouldn't happen.
Just give me a few minutes with her. Just a few. Let the Jungle sleep for a night, please.
Jago wanted her tension to ease: whatever it was that she was feeling, he wanted her to know she was safe here. Safe being relative, what with thousands of iron-clad warriors stalking through the trees around him, but the idea instead that with the white-haired warrior here, she could relax. Breathe. She had to have been exhausted as well. If she wanted his bed, it was hers: his nose already told him she had made use of his shower, bringing a pleased smile to his lips.
" And be honest with me," he playfully warned her, willing the screams of the dying away and replacing them with the dawn that Lita Trykk was still alive.
And what a beautiful sunrise that was. Amidst chaos and flame, here was his peace. This was his passion and serenity intermingled. It was obvious in the quiet words of reassurance, the concern in his voice, that having Lita here, unharmed, was all that had mattered to him, had been on his mind even while he danced with the angels along the stars.~
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Post by Kirith Aridigo on Jul 12, 2013 18:06:16 GMT -8
Sudden static burst to life from Kirith's com, causing her to jump. Quickly, she grabbed it off her utility belt, and brought the small device her her mouth. "Cat, is that you?" She was answered by more static. For a second she thought she heard Cat's artificial voice through the static, but it was only answered by more static.
"Sith's balls," she swore. "There's too much interference, probably because of the battle. Wonder what she wanted." His only response was to close his multicolored eyes and reach out with his mind. The result was as he had expected: an onslaught of emotions, of feelings from all the Praxeum's inhabitants; it was still a struggle, sometimes, to sort through everything the Force threw at him without the help of an artificial regulator. As such, he had to clamp down on his feelings as best as he could, in order to focus on what was around him; reaching further out, probing for something familiar, someone familiar.. There.
She wasn't alone, but that was to be expected. Privacy wasn't exactly commonplace in these days, what with the war on and all. He didn't recognize who she was with, not that he expected to. But she was definitely here.
Hello, Kirith.
The darkness continued not to have any malice to it, just tenderness and regret. It was rather shocking to think about, and even more shocking to hear in one's own head.
As if bidden, the Other stirred, and it was like a wall was raised between her and the feelings - which she now identified as being not her own, but belonging to someone else. Someone outside of her. Someone on Yavin. Someone who knew her, and felt things Kirith had never remembered feeling from someone towards her before.
What was that? she asked the Other.Someone we had thought was long gone, it replied to her. Someone it would be best if you stayed away of, or he will destroy you. The Other's anger flared up, but oddly enough it wasn't directed at her - but at whatever the presence had been. She could feel the cold heat of it's anger, like a comforting blanket around her. Made to protect her.Made to hide her.
.. but from what?
Kirith frowned, thinking that the presence hadn't felt particularly dangerous. A bit emo maybe, but not dangerous.
But the Other had never gotten like this before. What in the galaxy could make the Other act like this?
Maybe it was best to leave
It was then she became aware that Sid was attempting to get her attention, her expression worried."We should pack," Kirith said suddenly. "We need to get out of here. I don't have more than an hour's worth of work to do on Cat before she's space worthy. We could try to run the blockade. I don't think we should stay here. It isn't safe."
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