Opening Crawl

”This is Korath Lorren, captain of the Jedi Star. Requesting permission to land.”

As the jedi craft approaches the the asteroid belt that the Kafrene mining colony, he would earn a lazy response over the com unit. 'Jedi Star? Weird name for a ship man' the operator would drawl. 'Anyway, there's a bay clear at the moment, errm, bay four. You can land your ship there but you need to be out before tomorrow. Sending coordinates now Korath Lorren of the Jedi Star'. With that the com would fall silent as Korath is left alone with his thoughts and the low hum of engines.

It would be a few minutes of piloting through a line of congested shuttles and craft coming to and fro from the area before the port came into view. It was a rather squalid looking place. The metal was blackened from general grime and filth, and only just seemed to be operating as the hanger door grated open on entry. The hanger would be deserted, and only just being enough to fit Korath's vessel inside. It looked like it was made for smaller ships, but needs must, and he needed to be able to refuel his vessel and to lay low long enough for the First Order to lose track of him.

The squat chassis of Korath's droid hacker would sidle into the cockpit to look through the window at their destination. 'Charming' he would state, his mechanical voice laced with sarcasm. 'Alright, our little friend back there said his contact was an Arconian, goes by the name Zicktag'. The 'friend' that Hacker was referring to was an astromech that they had aquired from their time on Kamino. Good fortune or planning had meant that the little droid had collected a staggering amount of information on the first order, as well as suspected force users. R7-D7 was more of a traditional astromech than Hacker, who had seen numerous 'upgrades' over the years. The astromech's head would swivel to look up at Korath. 'The woman's a spice pusher. Now I know you've got your whole moral code thing going on, but she's literally the only contact we have here, and unless you want to turn into the human equivalent of scrap metal, we'll need her to grab fuel low key, and keep away from the First Order troops here.

It was in this cantina near the exit of the spaceport that the Gank Ro'Ka had been summoned. She had been given the thankless task of dealing with a warehouse on an outlying asteroid of the system which had been used to house spice for transportation to planets all over the sector. The reason she had been sent was because this warehouse was owned by a competitor of her employer, and because Ro'Ka was famously good at removals of competition, especially when subtlety wasn't the key.

The job hadn't paid, but it had cleared her current debt from her employer, at least it was supposed to. But here she was again, back at the cantina where it all started. As she walks through the entrance she would see the all too familiar sight of the interior. Bright lights flashed from the ceiling as a dance floor was packed with all manner of person. Most of them were young and heavily inebriated on one thing or another, be it booze or spice. It was less of an cantina these days and more of a club, a distinction made easy by the thumping music that reverberated through the building. Frankly it's amazing such a place exists in this bedraggled colony, but it does help business when a spice business deals right out of the back room.

As Ro'Ka stands there one of the bouncers; a large middle aged Klatooinian would lean across to her, practically shouting to be heard over the music. 'The boss wants to talk to you in the back! Best not hang around too long, she's in a bad mood!' This was usually the case, Zicktag had been fighting an addiction of her own for months, and was losing. The result was a fowl temper and a death sentence for anyone who brings it up.

Meanwhile, all across the far flung reaches of the galaxy, there is a stirring, a change that is slowly coming to be. Figures who had been lost or considered unimportant were being prepared to resurface by the force. As a lost jedi and hardened warrior are drawn together at the Ring of Kafrene, in the red sands of Korriban a pupil of ancient ways hones her skills and teachings, preparing for an unknowable destiny. In the crushing depths of Manaan, a former master remains frozen in time, waiting patiently to reemerge into a galaxy he has not be a part of for decades. On the gentle world of Dantooine, a survivor had found endless work protecting the farmers from the more sinister elements that come to his precious world. On Drall, the last Green Knight finds safety and solace among his own people. On the tropical wolrd of Aurea, a famed smuggler is summoned before an exceedingly wealthy employer for a job to make history, if it can be done. Finally, aboard a shuttle heading for Zygeria, a hunter contemplates his future with a heavy heart and heavier conscience. Each one of this strangers could not know what the force had in store for the galaxy, nor could they know what part they would play. The only true certainty was that the galaxy was about to change once again, and each and every one of these strangers would play a pivotal role in it. But they are not to be the heroes of this story. Relics of the past, warriors who have lost their way and figures who have hidden in the shadows for fear of their own lives. No, it is those they will help, they are to be the true heroes of this tale.

"Hacker, make a copy of the files Seventy Seven downloaded and put it on a data card; everything but the list of potential Force users. We may need it. Then watch the ship."

'You really need to learn to do your own work!' Hacker would shout after Korath as he leaves the ship. The hanger would remain deserted, although the door at the end of it would be open. Korath would be able to see figures in the distance passing in front of the door, coming and going from their business. The place looked like it was still a bustling place, despite the rather squalid conditions of the place. The interior of the hanger was no better than the exterior, It looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks, months even. There was little of interest here for him. What would be of interest was this contact. Somewhere in the spaceport is a cantina with what he needs. All he needs to do now it hind it.

Pulling his hood up, Korath descends the Jedi Star's boarding ramp and activates the ship's security systems, before heading out of the hangar. It doesn't take him long to find this cantina. Having an excellent sense of direction comes in handy. Entering the cantina, Korath heads for the bar.

"Bartender! An Ottegan Mead, please"

The bartender; a young man with dark skin and overly stylized facial hair would glance up from the drink he was making. The bartender would look Korath up and down for a moment before going back to work. 'Yeah, this isn't really a mead kind of place pal' he'd half shout so he could be heard over the music that emanated from the dance floor.

With one hand he would gesture to a menu on the drink spatter bar. It would list a wide variety of expensive and very complicated cocktails. Behind the bar there were a few bottles of generic looking beer, kept in a fridge with a glass door. However it seemed that it was the more complicated drinks that were the most popular.

After serving a second patron who nearly fell over while waiting for their bright red drink, the bartender would look back at Korath the man would raise an eyelid. 'You must be an offworlder huh, definitely not a regular here anyway'. It was accurate to say that among the latest fashions of the youth of this system that the robed figure did stand out rather.

11 minutes ago, Rabobankrider said:

The bartender; a young man with dark skin and overly stylized facial hair would glance up from the drink he was making. The bartender would look Korath up and down for a moment before going back to work. 'Yeah, this isn't really a mead kind of place pal' he'd half shout so he could be heard over the music that emanated from the dance floor.

With one hand he would gesture to a menu on the drink spatter bar. It would list a wide variety of expensive and very complicated cocktails. Behind the bar there were a few bottles of generic looking beer, kept in a fridge with a glass door. However it seemed that it was the more complicated drinks that were the most popular.

After serving a second patron who nearly fell over while waiting for their bright red drink, the bartender would look back at Korath the man would raise an eyelid. 'You must be an offworlder huh, definitely not a regular here anyway'. It was accurate to say that among the latest fashions of the youth of this system that the robed figure did stand out rather.

"That's a surprise to me. I've heard Ottegan Mead is very popular with the type of clientele that normally frequents this establishment."

The bartender would pause in his work to give his full attention to 'And what clientele is that?' he would say in a cautious voice. 'Just who are you exactly?' As he speaks he would look up towards the door for a moment, making eye contact with the bouncer at the door before looking back to Korath.

"Someone with some business with your boss."

On 5/21/2018 at 7:07 PM, Rabobankrider said:

As  Ro'Ka stands there one of the bouncers; a large middle aged Klatooinian would lean across to her, practically shouting to be heard over the music. 'The boss wants to talk to you in the back! Best not hang around too  long, she's in a bad mood!' This was usually the case, Zicktag had been fighting an addiction of her own for months, and was losing. The result was a fowl temper and a death sentence for anyone who brings it up.

Ro'Ka would reply with a mechanical but still feminine voice, "I have some news that should pick up Zicktag's spirits." She begin to walk into the club but the Klatooinian would grab her cybernetic arm firmly. Ro'Ka would follow its eyes to the huge blaster cannon on her back. "It seems I have forgotten something." She reaches for a hidden compartment inside her left arm and a container of spice from her most recent job. Ro'Ka tucks the spice into the bouncers shirt, staring blankly through her mask at him. The bouncer releases her arm allowing her to continue.

Ro'Ka would shuffle past the the usual patreons to the rear offices as the noise of the club was distracting enough to allow her to go unnoticed until she reached a bodyguard outside of Zicktag's office. He scowled at the large weapon but let Ro'Ka continue without interuption.

Zicktag was seating on a large couch inside a decorative office, her face clearly upset. Without a word, Ro'Ka walks up and from the same arm as before pulls out a blood covered spice container. It's slammed down on the short table in front of Zicktag. "It is done, Zicktag. It is all done. You said this was the last job. The spice trade is yours. I am out."

...on another planet,

-Southern Ice Cap, Drall

A lone figure treks up a rocky ridge. A trail of prints in the snow extends behind him as far as the eye can see.

He reaches a ledge and spreads a blanket on a large flat lichen covered rock. He sits cross legged and closes his eyes.

Nothing but a trickle. He breaths in deeply. He straightens himself and tries again. Yes... The trickle widens to become a stream...

---------------------

With the collapse of the New Republic Drez'n has seen nothing but violence and chaos reign across the galaxy. Seemingly dashing the hopes of rebuilding the Jedi Order.

On the run from the New Order, haunted by recent run ins with Dark Side forces and still with a bounty on his head from Imperial remnants, he seeks solace and guidence in the isolation of this remote Drallish landscape.

Here he communes with the force searching for the way through the coming storm.

The bartender would glance up at the bouncer again, who would in turn begin to lumber slowly across to the bar. Looking back at Korath the young man would shake his head. 'Yeah, I don't think so buddy. I don't know you, and you don't exactly seem like someone she'd want to meet. He'd gesture to the door with one hand as he continues. 'I think you should probably get on up out of here, go pester someone else'. It would seem, that Korath had not made a good first impression on the man, but no one said getting hold of this contact would be easy.

In the back of the cantina, the Arcona would look up at Ro'Ka as she plonks down the bloodied vile of spice. Her sickly yellow eyes would flick over the armoured figure for a moment before she turns to look at what she had been brought. 'I would have hoped that after working for me as long as you have that you would learn some manners' she would say curtly. As she pokes at the container with one finger gingerly she would look back up. 'I also hoped you would learn some basic hygiene. Who's blood is this? It doesn't matter' she would say as soon as she asks the question. 'I did say you would be done after this, but then I got to thinking'. She would slowly clamber to her feet from her comfortable spot on the floor and approach the Gank. Her hands were clasped together, but even with this they could be seen to shake slightly. 'The way you go, you will need new parts and upgrades for yourself before long. How long till you come back to me to use my mechanics? A month? Two? I have a new job, one that will put you in the black for once. One that will pay for your upgrades and maintenance for at least a year'. She would pause to give the Gank a wicked grin. This gangster was smart, she knew what made people tick, and had no qualms using it against them. 'Interested?'

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, the lone figure perched in the ice would see nothing. Well, that's not entirely accurate, he saw himself, perched on the ice. It was as if he was seeing a mirror of himself. Slowly he saw the image of himself stretch and break apart till there was six images of the same event. What was it that could keep him here in the freezing cold of his world? Then he felt it. As he reached out into the force, something reached back, something that far exceeded his own power,or any power that he had felt before. Whatever it was it did not feel good or evil, light or dark, it simply felt strong. It wanted him to stay here, it wanted him to wait. For what he did not know, but it would be with him soon.

[Influence] “You will inform your boss that a gentleman sent by the “Silver Mandalorian” is here to see her, and you will do so now”

Korriban. A sandy dead husk floating in space. Once a hub of Sith rule and a jewel in a former Empires crown. Now it only held crumbling tombs and fading ghosts. The last both figuratively and literally. And the literal ghosts were one of the treasures Arissa was seeking. She had been here many times. But a planet was a lot for one lone Twi'lek to explore. The fools she had been travelling with were of no use now. Two that had shown potential were dead and the others were convinced the Light would save them. She laughed as much as she dared at the thought. Unnecessary noise in this tomb, or any here, could attract unwanted attention. Even if the planet was dead some things could live on death for a long time. Or worse the dead would feast on foolish living beings foolish enough to step foot here. So was she a fool? Perhaps. But the reward for that foolishness would be worth it.

1 hour ago, Rabobankrider said:

This  gangster was smart, she knew what made people tick, and had no qualms using it against them. 'Interested    ?' 

Ro'Ka took a deep breath, preparing her descision. On one hand Zicktag was slowly loosing a battle with addiction and has proven to be unpredictable, more so when the spice is plentiful, which Ro'Ka has all but garuenteed. On the other hand, Zicktag was right about the cost of these cybernetics, it would not be long before Ro'Ka would need to replace and update what she already has.

A fresh blast burn on her left arm from a blaster bolt was the deciding factor, it would not be the last Ro'Ka knew. She build this prison and is a slave to it. She wiped off the soot from her arm and, as causally as she could, touched a small button on her mask activating her neural recorder. She wanted proof of what Zicktag says, just incase Zicktag was too spiced out of her mind to remember.

Leaving her hand on her mask to make it look like she was thinking, Ro'Ka spoke, "Interested, yes. Committed, no. Info first or I am on the first frieghter out of here. We both know how this goes." Ro'Ka took a seat but kept her eyes, and recorder, fixed on Zicktag.

-Drall

He sits motionless, the icy gusts whipping his dark green cloak, the wind howling across the dark tundra.

...what is this presence?

His brow furrows. Otherwise still a statue in the wind, he tries to decern its nature.

What would B.A. do...? Haha, of course...

He unclips and grasps the lightsaber hilt, rolling it in his palm momentarily before returning to his position of meditative trance. He begins mumbling words, they slowly gain more form. Tumbling out at first till they become a confident and steady flow.

"The flow of the force, current and course, current and past, future in torrents, undertow that turnith, oar the or and navigate the which, and find forth a course, but beware a false ballast which betrays its truth, a preview; capsizing doom...

No rid yourself of it now, now rise on waves, ebb and flow, crests and valleys, slide through troughs and let it break, overheader or under foot, but not your neck, read the look of the pool its words bubble froth and sworl... Catch its voice its crashing wail, its dripping wisper, wisdom washed over, told and boiled.

The current... Feel it..."

He smiles.

Is what comes a match for the wisdom of B.A. Bercilak? For I am not alone here. I speak with a tounge laced with elders, come in peace and commune with it. Come in wearing the dark and you shall come marked...

Ahto City, Manaan, Decades Prior

A somber looking Master Jonas Shaaf stands at the edge of the carbonite chamber with a protocol droid.

"It has been quite a run, hasn't it C3ET?"

The droid responds, "Indeed it has, Master Shaaf. Pardon me asking, Master Shaaf, but are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Sure? No. But I trust in the Brotherhood. And in the Force. You have your instructions on that datapad, correct?"

"Yes, Master Shaaf. After my memory wipe, I am to proceed to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and provide any assistance needed," says C-ET. "If this does work, Master. What will you do when you awaken, if you awaken?"

Master Shaaf laughs and responds, "Smoke a bunch of deathsticks, get laid and drink myself into a stupor!"

"Master Shaaf!" exclaims the shocked droid.

"I'm joking bolts for brains! I'm going to wake up and save the **** galaxy!" Master Shaaf pauses and then looks straight at C3ET, "Goodbye old friend."

"And goodbye to you, Master," notes C3ET solemnly as Master Shaaf submits himself to a carbonite freeze and a long, dreamless sleep.

The young bartenders eyes would seem to glaze over for a moment as he stands up straight. 'I will tell the boss' he would repeat as he turns to move through a small door behind the bar. As he does the bouncer would pause in his approach before heading back to the door. He seemed to be satisfied that there was no problem.

In the back room, the spice deal would explain her planned mission to Rok'Ka with excitement in her voice. 'There are many treasures in the galaxy Ro'Ka, but the most valuable are from those that have been lost or destroyed, and the most recent to join those ranks are the jedi. There tools, their valuables are priceless! There are people out there willing to pay a planets ransom for a single artifact, people I know'. She would point a bony finger at the gank before continuing. 'What I need, is someone to find these treasures, and bring them back for me to sell. We will both benefit, and will not only choose which moon to live on, but which one to buy!'

She would turn to stoop down and pick up a small holo-projector from the low lying table of the room. Activating it she would show Ro'Ka a map of the galaxy, with one location highlighted. I have come across this map which pinpoints what I believe to be a secret cache that the jedi had prepared, here on Manaan. For what, I don't know, maybe to overthrow the republic, it doesn't matter any more'. She would move to press the holo-projector into Ro'Ka's hand. 'I do not doubt that I am not the only one who had this information, it was salvaged from a droid on Corouscant by a competitor, so you must move fast if you want your big pay day'.

At this point the bartender would move into the room unannounced. 'Excuse-' He would be interrupted before he could finish the sentence as Zicktag swipes up the spice container and hurls it at the man. It would narrowly miss him, shattering against the wall as she shrieks at him. 'I was not to be disturbed you cretin!'

'I'm sorry ma'am, I don't know what came over me!' the man would wail as he crouches in an attempt to avoid further projectiles. 'There's someone to see you!'

'Well, if this doesn't turn out to be important you better be off this rock before I can find you' she'd snarl. 'Show him in'.

The bartender would nod, scurrying back into the main room to wave Korath under the bar and into the dimly lit back room.

Back on Drall, the presence that had been felt on the ice slowly subsided, retreating to wherever it had come from. It's intentions had been clear though, it expected the small figure to wait, wait for something that would come soon, changing his life forever. Of course waiting in the frozen wastes liek this could be folly, even considered to be madness by some. Drez'n had been on Drall now for many years, it was likely that there were people awaiting his return from contemplation.

The tomb that Arissa had found herself in was not located in the infamous valley of the sith lords. No, this one was different. It had been dug roughly into a cliff face, with more of a fissure than an entrance. The interior was different again however. It had been masterfully crafted, with smooth angular surfaces that had been preserved and retained their details long after they should have faded. There was ancient text on many pillars and walls, not just the language of the sith, but many others that were older and younger than that. There was even basic scattered here and there, or at least an early incarnation of it. The tomb itself had a fairly linear design, with a huge antechamber taking up most of the space. It was from here that three entrances opened up, one ahead and one on either side of her. She could sense the power hidden inside this place. Its resident was not to be trifled with.

As this was occurring, another remained trapped in the depths of Manaan's waters. Little to nothing had changed fro him in the years he had been frozen. Time has passed around him however. So much had occurred without his knowing, he did not know what had happened to his order, his brotherhood, his friends, none of it. All had passed him by, but there were some drawing close to him. What they had planned was unknown, but time would soon tell.

Entering the room, Korath pulls back his hood.

”Greetings, Lady Zicktag. I am Korath Lorren, Itinerant Jedi, and I have a proposition for you.”

The yellow eyes alien would look between Korath and Ro'Ka before snorting. 'Jedi. really, I didn't believe that would be something a real jedi would announce to strangers'. She would move to seat herself back onto the colourful cushions, letting out a quiet groan as she does. 'That is if jedi even existed any more. Anyway, you're either a liar or a fool, and I have little interest in talking to either'. Perhaps it was the lack of subtly, or her own cynicism, but Zicktag did not seem impressed. She would look up at Ro'Ka and wave her hand lazily on Korath's direction. 'See him out, violently if needs be'.

Korath looks calmly at the druglord. Suddenly, the table in front of her rise up into the air and begin doing gentle “figure eights” in front of her.

“I am neither a liar, nor fool. However, you would be a fool to no at least listen to my proposal,” he says and he gently sets them back down where they were. “Let’s talk, shall we?”

Ro'Ka would stand up and draw out her Blaster Cannon at the sight of the objects and goons floating helpless in the air, its multiple barrels spinning. "Zicktag, he must have a repulsor device on him! Take cover!" Ro'Ka would shout out to Zicktag.

All that talk of credits and adventure had Ro'Ka committed to a new job and she didn't want to lose it so quickly to a fast talking moof milker.

The whirling noise of the cannon had to be shouted over by Ro'Ka as she threatened the man who entered the room, "Drop the repulsor and put your hands up!"

Korath looks at the Gank next to him intently, as he pulls aside the left side of his robe, showing the lightsaber at his belt, “If you were not so quick to jump to conclusions, you would already have noticed that my hands are already empty. Now, if you don’t want this to escalate further, I would suggest you put the weapon away. I am here do do business, not fight.”

Turning back to Zigtack, “Now, as I was saying, I was sent by a certain Mandalorian in silver armor. His droid, Seventyseven, said you could provide certain services; for appropriate payment of course.”