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==========

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

>>Skills:
>Astronavigation 1 (Intellect) – a measure of knowledge about the galaxy’s stellar composition, allowing for the correct plotting of routes and hyperspace jumps.
>Cool 1 (Panache) – a measure of a character’s ability to remain calm under danger. Rolled to resist Charm and Negotiation.
>Coordination 1 (Finesse) – a measure of a character’s nimbleness and flexibility.
>Deception 1 (Cunning) – judges the character’s ability to trick others into believing falsehoods.
>Lore 2 (Intellect) – how much the character knows of the ancient galaxy and its history.
>Mechanics 1 (Intellect) – skill and prowess in working on all things from weapons to droids and ships.
>Melee 2 (Brawn) – a character’s proficiency with melee weapons such as knives and swords.
>Perception 2 (Cunning) – a skill used to notice clues, perceive hidden dangers, and all manner of hidden objects or persons.
>Piloting [Space] 1 (Agility) – the ability to pilot starships and other stellar vessels.
>Sith 1 (Intellect) – a measure of a character’s knowledge regarding the Sith and Dark Side of the Force.
>Stealth 1 (Agility) – a measure of how easily a character can hide or appear inconspicuous.
>Vigilance1 (Resolve) – represents a character’s ability to take notice and react to events happening in their surroundings/peripheral vision.

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

>>Lightsaber Rating: 3
>>Weapons: One yellow-gold, single-blade lightsaber
>>Lightsaber Forms:
>Form II, Makashi [Finesse]
>Form VI, Niman [Finesse+Cunning]

>>Force Rating: 1 (1d10+Resolve)
>>Force Affinity: Alter (+5)
>>Force Powers:
>Force Fire 2 (Alter) – a pyrokinetic ability that allows the practitioner to manipulate and conjure flames with the Force. Especially deadly against the Children of Jombaral.
>Force Pull/Push 1 (Alter) – The iconic telekinesis of every Jedi, determines lifting limit and push power.
>Force Speed 1 (Alter) – The universe seems to slow around you, and you are react faster as a result of it.
>Force Weapon 1 (Alter) – You imbue a weapon with the Force, increasing its durability and damage. At third rank, you can imbue your lightsaber. At fifth rank...?
>Sever Force 2 (Alter) – A rare and seldom-taught and used technique by the Jedi of the Old Republic that strips one’s connection with the Force. Leveling this increases duration and potency. At third rank...?

==========

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>>Misc. Inventory:
>Golden Lightsaber Crystal – one of two lightsaber crystals you had taken from the caves of Illum when you were a Youngling. The lightsaber it had been embedded in had been destroyed by the Herald of Jombaral.
>Holocron of the Betrayer – a Jedi Holocron containing the persona of Kreia, an enigmatic Jedi from the time of Revan.
>Liar’s Blade – the spearhead carried into battle by the Liar Chieftain against the Herald of Jombaral thousands of years ago. Use it against the Herald to release the souls it devoured.
>Mandalorian Blaster – a Mandalorian pistol given to you by Nomiana Whrul after a passionate evening on Mylar-3, in the hopes of keeping you alive in the Unknown Regions.

=====

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>19 BBY
>Settlement of Nest’s End, the World Beneath, Kakarit

>2 Days Remain...

“Glad to see you haven’t kicked it boss,” Suzel exhales in obvious relief. The Nagai certainly looks disheveled and no small amount of stressed, but he perks up at the sight of your return. “But next time, can you leave the only translator with us? The Clones were able to speak Shyriiwook well enough, but it was a bloody awful nightmare trying to play charades with Elba.”

The only response Elba has to offer is an enigmatic shrug that neither confirms nor denies the Nagai’s protests.

“Fair enough...” But there’s still a certain matter that needs to be discussed. “You didn’t tell them I was a Jedi, did you?”

The wookie shakes his head. “Wrrraah...”

“What he said,” echoes your copilot, “I didn’t tell them anything. I just said that you were with the Republic, and that we came in response to the distress call.” He pauses, adopting a thinker’s pose. “...I’m not quite sure they bought it, but they weren’t about to complain since we had a ride out of the Desolation.”

And to think that they did it without you telling them to! Well done. Or perhaps they’d picked up on your absolute need for cloak-and-dagger and applied it as best they could. Regardless, your ‘secret’ is safe, for the most part. Although, is it still a secret when the Kakari and Separatist Remnant know you're a Jedi?

Curiosity suddenly overtakes your own paranoia. To the pair, you inquire: “What was it like? The Desolation where you found the clones. I heard from Bos and Troxl that it was some sort of swamp.”

Elba sneezes, and Suzel trembles as if someone had walked on his grave. “...very unpleasant. Not the kind of thing I expected when my parents sent me out with you. You know, the old bosses back on Mylar-3 never let us swim. Wasn’t nearly enough water to go around, and I thought that this forest planet would be a great place to try it...”

He shivers, “Please make the next planet we go to as dry as possible, with as little humidity in the air, if you please. If we’re going to wade, I want to be able to see my calves and not jump at every little object that slithers or kriffing grabs at my legs...I don’t want to get into a pool deeper than a few inches for the next few adventures, boss.”

...you don't make any promises, but express your sympathy as best you can.

>>Line Break

One of the Kakari is kind enough to guide you to the mustering ground of the Clone Troopers. Just beyond the walls of the settlement, they’d set up a camp and makeshift F.O.B. with what little they had with them. Several go about their business, cleaning weapons and equipment, scrolling through datapads and talking in low, subdued voices.

(cont.)

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It’s...not easy looking at the white armor. While you aren’t nearly as uncomfortable as Torok might have been, it’s still hard to think that they were responsible for carrying out the order that wiped out nearly all of your extended family. No mercy, no hesitation...the generals and warriors they’d fought alongside with for the better part of three years were cut down without any fanfare or warning.

At least, with Acting-Commander Marcs, he’d been brainwashed by a Force Entity. These Clones, however...their loyalty remains suspect at best, even if they had been abandoned to die in the quarantine by their fleet.

As you near the camp, your Kakari escort bows politely and leaves you to your business. The Clones stop their activities, setting down accouterments and blasters to stare at you, measuring, judging, evaluating...

“It’s rude to stare, boys.” One of the Clones stands up, brushing the dirt and dust off his Phase II trooper armor. “Thought the Cloners would’ve taught you better manners than that.”

A long, jagged scar runs down the side of his right eye, a mark that not even years in a bacta tank would be able to heal. The iris itself is cloudy, paler than its leftmost counterpart. A veritable maze of scar tissue and lines are scrawled all over his face, from the thick of combat and what might appear to be the stress of leadership.

Obviously, this is their leader. There isn’t any mistaking the deference in the rest of their posture. “Sorry about that. It’s been a hard couple of months since we were stuck here...friendly faces are a sight for sore eyes.”

“I can imagine,” you answer neutrally, offering a tentative hand. “You might have already been told, but my name is Ren. I’m the captain of the ship that my crew flew into the Desolation.”

The Clone nods, snapping to attention with a crisp salute. “Commander Skipp, 57th Elite Corps of the Grand Army of the Republic...or at least, what’s left of the corps, at any rate. The boys and I can’t thank you enough for coming to our rescue.”

>>How will you respond?
>Maintain the cover of a freebooting mercenary/explorer. [Lie]
>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]
>Tell him you’re a Jedi, but make it clear that at the first sign of trouble... [Threaten]
>Custom option. [Write-in.]

VOTE OPEN FOR TWO HOURS

>>4237272
>Maintain the cover of a freebooting mercenary/explorer. [Lie]


>It's finally back!!

>>4237282
Ditto
Been waiting for this to come bak

>>4237272
>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]

>>4237272
>Maintain the cover of a freebooting mercenary/explorer. [Lie]

>>4237272
>Maintain the cover of a freebooting mercenary/explorer. [Lie]

>>4237272
Wait, wouldn't our lie unravel the moment we rescue the other Jedi?
>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]

>>4237272
>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]

>>4237272
>>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]

>>4237272
>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]

>>4237272
>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]
Best to get this over with now. Also, AAAAAAAAAAAAAA IT'S BACK

>>4237272
>>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]
ITS BAAAAACK

>>4237272
>>Tell him you’re a Jedi, and express your sympathies about being used by the Sith. [Diplomacy]

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>>4237282
>>4237294
>>4237297
>>4237298
>>4237299
>>4237314
>>4237317
>>4237319
>>4237330
>>4237336
>>4237342
>>4237360

...it’s time to put all the cards on the table. You already did that for the Kakari and the Separatists. May as well go all in and add the clones into the mix. Besides...when you go to rescue Arotta and Master Kosa, wouldn’t that raise more questions than necessary? Sure, maybe you could wiggle around it...

“...but that’d be too much trouble,” you vocalize.

Skipp frowns, lowering his hand. “Sir?”

There’s no easy way to go about this...

You reach out with the Force, and pull your lightsaber from your boot and into your good hand. Skipp’s eyes widen in surprise, and his hands instinctively go for the sidearm at his hip. You don’t ignite the weapon, merely holding it up for the commander to see. Behind him, you notice the troopers stiffen, and you have only seconds to make your case:

“I’m a Jedi, Commander. Same as General Uyer Kosa and Padawan Arotta Bashur. I came to rescue them, but...the circumstances have changed. I need your help if we all want to get off this planet alive. It’s not just the trees that want us dead; the Empire’s coming back, and I don’t doubt that they’ll perform a Base Delta Zero to make sure the quarantine’s enforced.

“...from one person used by the Sith to another...” You sheath your lightsaber to its proper place, open and undisguised upon your belt. “I want to work with you, Commander. So that we can get to the bottom of this entire...mess."

Skipp’s jaw works, tensing and loosening as he tries to find the words he wants to say. Behind him, his soldiers try to pretend they aren’t eavesdropping. But they haven’t reached for weapons yet...as good a sign as any.

Eventually, the commander releases a heavy breath. “...how much do you know about me?”

“Enough that you’ve got significantly autonomy than the normal clone trooper,” you answer, “Acting-Commander Marcs had nothing but good things to say about your service record.”

His gaze hardens, and a snarl of emotion enters his voice: “Marcs...then, I take it-?”

“He died as himself, with all the dignity as a loyal soldier of the Republic.”

“...hmph. That’s all I could ask for.” He takes a moment of silence, one you observe with him before he continues, “...but you have the gist of it. Long story short, Cloners made me and ninety-nine other troopers to be a bit more independent than the others. When we get off this hellhole, I’ll tell you more about it.”

“When”, not “if”. His morale is certainly infectious. The tension in the air bleeds out somewhat, and his men visibly relax. You’re in a far more comfortable position that you had been earlier...but you still need at least one answer.

Clearing your throat, you ask, “What can you tell me about Order 66?”

“Where’d you hear that from?” he counters, surprised.

(cont.)

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“I pulled some of the logs off the F.O.B. before we had to make a hot escape. A man in black had instructed Marcs to execute it. He wasn’t able to for two reasons: he believed he was the Mother’s child, no longer a soldier of the Republic...”

You pause, taking a moment to bitterly finish, “...and there weren’t any Jedi in the immediate area. Skipp...I have to know.”

A complicated expression breaks out across his features. There’s discomfort, certainly, as well as a certainly large portion of apprehension. But he cooperates, standing straight and clearing his throat:

“In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interest of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander, the Chancellor, G.A.R. commanders will remove those officers by lethal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander (Chancellor) until a new command structure is established.”

The mere implications of the Order are nearly enough to bring you to your knees. The man in black...no, it couldn’t have been the Supreme Chancellor. You’ve never met the man, but Sheev Palpatine is nowhere near as wrinkled or hideously deformed as the figure that had demanded the order and shied away from Jombaral.

A...an imposter, perhaps? Or a figure manipulating the Chancellor from behind the shadows...the Sith must have subverted the office, fed lies and manipulated him into shaping the Republic into an Empire...but that still doesn’t explain why such an order was included by the Kaminoans in the Clone Army...

...but those are questions for another day, in another place where you aren’t in immediate danger of being subsumed into a collective or glassed from orbit. Still, considering where you intend to go after you get off the planet, returning to Mylar-3 with the rest of the Jedi...

Slowly, you say, “...and if you were to receive the Order again?”

His answer comes swifttly, and laced with disgust, “Pardon the profanity, but fuck no, sir. I’ve served the Jedi since Day One of this bloody war. I’ve had a few bad commanders and sanctimonious incompetents, but high treason against the Republic? You’d have better odds of convincing me that banthas can fly.”

>Skipp is telling the truth.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, but quickly covered it up with a hasty cough. “That’s nice to hear...and the rest of your men-?”

“They’ll listen to me,” he insists, “They owe me that much after I saved all from the trees. They’re...newer and less independent than I am. But I don’t think they’re too fond of serving a political power that condemned them to a fate worse than death.”

Skipp salutes again, heels clacking together. “My loyalty is to the Republic, and as of a year ago, General Uyer Kosa. But for the time being, we’re more than willing to serve once more with a Jedi. We await your orders, General Ren.”

(cont.)

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It’s a hard thing to squash the excitement bubbling up within you, but you manage to do it. Returning his salute with a nod of your own, you gently correct, “I never made general. I’ll answer to either ‘Jedi’, or ‘Ren’ or ‘Gaelle’ easily enough.”

“Very good, sir.”

...that’ll work, too.

Most of the Clones are certainly more prosaic than their commander. Trykov had been a supply officer prior to the disaster. Beyond an affinity for explosives, ordinance specialist Cooper had a talent for making field rations taste somewhat palatable. Field medic Oann had been one tour away from retirement.

Of course, there are a few that stand out and catch your attention. The stiff and stern Roppock is a rookie fresh out of the cloners’ tanks. AT-RT driver Evo could seldom be seen a few meters beyond the vehicle that aided his escape from the infected. And Stye is counted among the rare and much vaunted Blaze troopers.

When asked about how they all joined up, Oann laughed bitterly, “It wasn’t easy. We all thought the other was infected at one point or another. And since the thing that got the rest of our brothers could get inside our heads...”

“Turns out there’s an easy enough trick,” grunts Stye, “...the seeds start doing weird things to your innards as it turns you into a plant. Turns all your bodily fluids slowly green as chlorophyll gets in your system, but it’s more easily found in...ahem excrement and vomit.”

“Oy, Roppock!” the cheerful Evo ribs his younger squadmate, “What was the rhyme we had going, again?”

“This is beneath our dignity as Clone troopers,” the rookie snaps.

“‘If your shit is green and you don’t bleed red, then stay right there, because you’re worse than dead,’” dryly answers Cooper as he doles out reheated rations. At your own offered plate, the explosive specialist smiles. “Don’t worry, Jedi. They’re safe to eat.”

“You had a few tons of prepackaged rations in your cargo hold,” Trykov observes clinically, “...I hope you don’t mind. Your crewmates were very generous with sharing.”

>>The survivors of the 57th Elite, Scrapper Squad, are at your command!

One quick breakfast later finds you plodding your way towards the Hearth-Hall of Nest’s End, in order to inform the authorities of your plan for the day. Already, you’d committed yourself to first rescuing Arotta, venturing into the Heart of Kakarit. You don’t quite know what or where that is, beyond the fact that it is on the surface, but perhaps the natives might know what it meant.

The light of the great sunstone glows a warm and soft orange as it simulates sunlight as best it can. The denizens of Nest’s End begin their day, throwing out chamber pots and opening their stores, purchasing commodities and hawking their wares. They seem to be used to your presence, no longer staring or otherwise pointing you out.

(cont.)

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They carry on in spite of the fact that in two days, they might not be on the planet any more, with all the haste and diligence as if they had not been in hiding for several thousand years. You’re more than certain that Octavia’s core ship can handle the entire population...there could hardly be more than a few thousand, especially with all the empty droid racks.

As you continue your course, the buildings steadily got larger and grander, transitioning from single-floor units to proper multi-story complexes. It was a trick commonly seen in more primitive societies – simply pile earth and rubble over collapsed structures and build atop them rather than clear them away. But the view afforded still increased the property’s value accordingly.

By the time you’re mostly the way up the artificial hill, you’re able to look over several of the buildings’ rooftops and see the rest of the city, picking out a few other such mottes as well as landmarks the likes of Bos’ little island and the Ancestor Pillars.

At the top of the hill, the true center of Nest’s End, stands a building that would have put the Opulent Palace on Mylar-3 to shame. Granted, the pre-industrial conditions of the Kakarit would have limited their access to metallic materials, but the fortress of the Chieftain-King had no need of such things. The fortress was not hewn from solid rock as much as it was shaped by molten lava.

“Bos is holding out on me,” you murmur as you inspect the walls, tapping one of them with a wayward finger. It’s not a compound you’re familiar with, and it certainly looks hard enough to withstand the worst of what a Tall Walker could lob into it. “Molding magma with the Force sounds like a useful skill...”

The guards allow you entrance, withdrawing their spears to let you through the curtain. What greets you is a rustic, but well-furnished great hall. Prince Troxl, the Kakari who had rescued you, stands before a table and discussing something with other Kakari distinguished by great ornamental beads and jewelry. War-summons, perhaps? Or perhaps the day-to-day beurocracy of running Nest’s End?

The prince notices you, and bids you welcome. “Ancestor’s blessings upon you, Farren.”

“And to you as well,” you return with a bow, “Where is your father?”

He sniffs, “Trax-Chief is purging tunnels, raiding and cleaning before roots can settle. Will not be back before dawn’s light on next day.”

...hopefully Bos had told either Trax or Troxl about your plan to evacuate the Kakari. The Firmament just might hold up against the forces of Jombaral, but there are few things in the galaxy that can withstand a saturated, concentrated series of turbo-laser volleys from orbit.

The prince interjects, “Sit, eat! Will have cooks fetch supplies-”

“Your hospitality is appreciated, but I already ate. I came to inform you about my actions for the day...”

>>You explained your course of action to Troxl.

(cont.)

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“I see, I see...” he murmurs, stroking the scales beneath his chin with a thoughtful talon, “...you will need tunnel-riders!”

It isn’t hard to deduce with what he might mean. A farmer had transported you towards the Separatist lines through a tunnel via craft pulled by some reptilian beast of burden. It hadn’t been the fastest, but it had certainly drawn far less attention that if you had taken the Albatross through the secret temple entrance.

“Heart of Jungle...” the prince gestures, and a servant retrieves a map from a nearby table. Delicately inked on fine vellum and protected by the scaly hide of a blue creature, Troxl traces a path along the labyrinthian scrawls that the tunnels take. “...sacred clutch-temple of Kakarit before False Mother attacked. Nothing there but broken eggs, painful memories of the clutch. Your friend...”

‘Friend’ would be stretching it considering your own uncertain relationship with her, but you nod, “Yes. My friend was reportedly going into the Heart.”

Troxl’s nostrils flare. “Perilous journey awaits you...even in tunnels, wilder areas where False Mother’s influence can whisper...brave you are, Farren. Few venture even to the border. Even fewer return once crossing threshold.”

If he’s trying to scare you...it’s working. And even in spite of the painkiller you took, the phantom sensation of your arm being crushed by the Herald still courses along your arm. Granted, you now have a weapon that could kill the abomination for good this time.

“...somebody has to do it,” you answer in a determined voice, “I won’t be a Jedi otherwise.”

The prince nods, lips parting in what might be an admirable smile. “Tunnel-riders, I will have within the hour. And wherever, use your Shamanka flame to burn roots leading back home. How many you need?”

>>Suzel and Elbawaraak will not be available for this mission, as they will be repairing the ship for minor damage sustained on the mission to rescue the Clones.

>>However, the following squad members are available to you:
>Commander Skipp, Clone ARC-Trooper, tactical specialist.
>Stye, Blaze Trooper, heavy shock trooper, flamethrower specialist.
>Cooper, Ordinance specialist, explosive weapons and munitions expert.
>Oann, Field Medic, veteran survivalist expert and medical support.

>>Who is coming with you? [Max of two]
>No-one. This is a task that a Jedi must accomplish by himself. [Alone] [High Danger, greater reward yield.]
>One other person, to watch your back and cover your injury. [Write-in.] [Average Danger, average reward yield.]
>Two people, to fill out a small fireteam for an easier foray. [Write-in.] [Low Danger, lesser reward yield.]

>>[TUTORIAL]: Similar to facing down the Tof Purebreed, overcoming obstacles with disadvantages (i.e., your broken arm) will yield greater rewards in the form of bonus traits/perks, skills and/or unique items.

[VOTE OPEN FOR SIX HOURS

>>4237507
>>No-one. This is a task that a Jedi must accomplish by himself. [Alone] [High Danger, greater reward yield.]

>>4237507
>Oann, Field Medic, veteran survivalist expert and medical support.
>One other person, to watch your back and cover your injury. [Write-in.]

>>4237192
Oh shit, welcome back dude.

>>4237507
>>No-one. This is a task that a Jedi must accomplish by himself. [Alone] [High Danger, greater reward yield.]

I thought the curse took you!

>>4237507
>One other person, to watch your back and cover your injury. [Write-in.] [Average Danger, average reward yield.]
>Stye, Blaze Trooper, heavy shock trooper, flamethrower specialist.
more FIREpower will be good here

glad you're back man

>>4237517
Ditto
Let’s DO THIS, VODE AN
we’re gonna die aren’t we

>>4237507
>No-one. This is a task that a Jedi must accomplish by himself. [Alone] [High Danger, greater reward yield.]

>>4237507
>>No-one. This is a task that a Jedi must accomplish by himself. [Alone] [High Danger, greater reward yield.]

This is our trial. We must do it alone.

>>4237507
>>No-one. This is a task that a Jedi must accomplish by himself. [Alone] [High Danger, greater reward yield.]
I was a glutton for punishment in the last threads, I'm a glutton for punishment now.

>>4237507
>>One other person, to watch your back and cover your injury. [Write-in.] [Average Danger, average reward yield.]
>>Stye, Blaze Trooper, heavy shock trooper, flamethrower specialist.
Let's at least bring the Blaze Trooper, please.

>>4237779
The window's been closed for a while.

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>>4237517
>>4237518
>>4237526
>>4237541
>>4237552
>>4237650
>>4237710
>>4237747
>>4237779
Troxly’s nostrils flare in surprise. “Just one? Your arm-”

“Courtesy of the Herald,” you finish for him, but you refuse to budge, “And a reminder of what’s gonna happen if I screw up. I know that it’ll be easier if I had the Clone troopers or even one of your own...but this is something I need to do by myself.”

His eyes narrow. “Shamanka thing?”

“...yeah. Shamanka, thing. Rite of passage, really.”

“Pah!” he exclaims, shaking his head, “Trax-Chief say often that there is very fine line between stupid and brave. But shamanka have resistance against the False Mother’s call...others more easily subverted.”

Well, there is that, too.

“So be it!” Troxl claps his hands together. “Arrangements will be made. Servant will bring you to tunnel-rider clutch. A fast mount you will need to traverse the tunnels.”

You bow. “Thank you. And, did Bos happen to tell you about the offer I obtained from the Separatists?” AT his confused look, you hurriedly explain, “Erm...the leaders of Metal without Song.”

His advisors look to the prince curiously, but he catches your meaning. “Yes...yes, will need to bring to Trax-Chieftan! Discuss merits of the metal egg escape, as soon as he returns from the raids...”

At least that’s one thing off your chest. When the deal falls through, hopefully Octavia will have made the preparations for a hasty dust-off once you’ve finished your business here...

>>Later

At the very least, with the cart you’d taken to the Separatist lines, you had some modicum of comfort even as Ixanot had been driving the cart at breakneck speed with his team of snizitrix. Here, you have no such comfort. Brave as he had been, the Bronka-rider had all but swore on the bones of his ancestors that he would not drive his beast or himself within five kilometers of the Heart of the Jungle.

You aren’t entirely unsympathetic, even assuring him that he would only be providing a mount, not a ride and escort. But Prince Troxl’s orders were considered to be given with the authority of his father. A fast mount is needed, one quick enough to traverse the distance between Nest’s End and the Heart of the Jungle within a handful of hours, and smart enough to wait for your return from the temple.

Eventually, he had caved in, motioning for you to stay put as he retreated into his stables. “...take this one, Jedi. The prince asked for a smart mount? I will give you a smart mount. She is very smart, but sometimes too smart for her own good...”

He hadn’t been wrong. At first glance, the bronka he’d brought out appeared to be no different than any other of the beasts that you’d seen the Kakari ride into war. The only difference is a less prominent forehead plate, and less teeth than her male counterpart. But it only took you ten seconds of getting in the saddle to realize what Ixanot had meant.

(cont.)

>>4239099
Welcome back, OP.

PS: You forgot to add Force Entities 1 to the skill list...

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>>4239104

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>>4239099
Brighthorn is certainly the smartest of her kind, easily responding to the commands and orders that Ixanot had issued. The problem is, that only by a few scales and lack of cold blood, you aren’t Ixanot. And Force you, she bloody damn well knows it.

The instant you’d settled comfortably into the saddle and stirrups, the Force barely gave you a moment’s notice as a palpable excitement flared within the beast. The bronka all but twitched, before surging out from the stables, leaping over the gate and running circles around the makeshift ranch.

“When was the last time you took her out?!” you scream as you try to hold on for dear life.

The fact that he has to think about the answer doesn’t comfort you in the lightest. “Five cycles ago!”

“Switch! I demand a switch!”

“She’s the fastest for a reason, Jedi!”

...at the very least, you aren’t going to be smelling of mushrooms.

It takes about thirty minutes into your journey through the tunnels before your vision can begin to comfortably see in the dark. Brighthorn, lacking no such impairment to her eyes, is able to navigate the tunnels at breakneck speeds, even faster than Ixanot with his cart and team. At the most, you trust your rambunctious mount with the ability to not crash into any sort of obstacle, but damn her if she isn’t making this an easy ride!

Clenched tight in the sling of your broken arm, you occasionally check a dim holograph of the map that Troxl had on his war table, cross-referencing topographic data obtained from the Albatross. The tunnels have little in the way of rhyme or reason, deliberately obfuscating any straightforward way back to Nest’s End. A man could easily loose himself within the twisting turns, unexpected inclines, and caverns that stretched on for miles on end.

The only direction you provide to your mount a brief flick of the reins, gesturing with your good arm whenever a turn might approach. Although perhaps it’s just you, but Brighthorn seems to take too much delight in dodging at the last possible second...

“Cheeky girl,” you grumble, even as your heart jackhammers after a particularly tight turn, “If not the Herald or any of the local fauna, then you’re going to be the death of me...”

The low, rumbling chuckle she makes in response couldn’t have been a laugh...could it?

“...I’m talking to a reptile that can store upwards of ten gallons in its neck and upper chest cavity.”

It isn’t your lowest point in your life...but it’s certainly down there.

Troxl had warned you though, that the tunnels aren’t entirely uninhabited. Between the roving patrols of Children hoping to find stray Kakari, uninfected predators what he had worryingly referred to as the Twisting Wyrm...you haven't encountered anything hostile. Yet...

But as you approach the outer boundary of the Heart...

>Roll 1d100 Encounter.
>Best out of three.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>4239154

Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>4239154
Here goes...

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>4239154
Lets hope for the best...

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>4239154

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>>4239158
>>4239160
>>4239162

You smell it before you can even see it, a putrid stench of rotting meat and offal. Brighthorn is similarly affected, snorting and tapping the ground in disgust as you approach the final turn, and the bright light that emanates from it. For the first time in your journey, she responds quickly to your command to stop, coming to a complete halt a dozen meters away from the tunnel.

Dismounting, you gesture for her to remain behind, pulling your lightsaber to your hands as you advance towards the mouth of the tunnel, and take a careful look inside.

The cavern is only slightly smaller than the Senate Rotunda, and completely covered in geode crystals. Multi-colored formations the likes of amethyst and jasper, chalcedony and agate, and several other quartz-like growths. From some unseen crack in the ceiling, a beam of light shines through, filling the cavern with a near-blinding brilliance as light refracts off a crystal atop a stalagmite.

A sunstone, perhaps?

But the source of the smell reveals itself soon enough, a growling, snarling beast that stumbles into view from another tunnel opposite your own. The beast heaves with exertion as it drags a corpse behind it, a beast of burden you might have seen in the mushroom fields of the Kakari. It sniffs the air, scratching tusks the size of your arm as it proceeds into the cavern.

...come to think of it, a Rancor would explain not only the bad smell, but the pile of bones you’d only just noticed to where it made its nest. But it isn’t just any Rancor...of all the things you’d expect to find standing in your way to the Heart, a Bull Rancor was certainly not the first thing that came to mind.

The beast itself doesn't appear to be infected. It's movements are too certain to be a slave. But there’s something you notice about the broken tusks as it settles down to eat. You’d understand breaking off a tusk in a struggle against prey, but even that would come away fragmented and horrifically splintered.

The break isn’t clean as much as it’s lacking in any broken edges, almost cauterized from the lack of growth. And the only type of weapon that could have achieved such a wound could only have come from a lightsaber.

Something awful churns in your stomach. “Arotta...”

The lack of any Clone trooper armor or corpses provides little comfort. Perhaps your erstwhile compatriot had fought off the Rancor, and bought time for the clone contingent she took with her to escape into the back tunnels. Certainly, some of the walls look scored and otherwise corroded from blaster fire...

But enough speculation! Master Larid would scold you for taking so long to come to a decision. Steeling your will to act, you decide to...

>>What will you do?
>Engage the Bull Rancor. Better to take it out now so you don’t have to later. [Attack]
>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]

[VOTE OPEN FOR TWO HOURS.]

>>4239162
>>4239163
>06:26:43
>06:26:42
What Sith fuckery is this?

>>4239192
>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]
Nope.

>>4239192
>>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]
We're a Stealth character to begin with, and we have a busted arm, easy decision for me.

>>4239192
>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]

>>4239192
>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]

>>4239192
>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]
It’s times like these I remember the ancient words of my forefathers,
You don’t have to be faster than the bear, you just have to be faster than your friends

>>4239192
>>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]
what are we going to do if we finde arotta infected?

>>4239192
>>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]

>>4239192
>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]
plot twist, the Bull Rancor is the actual secret recruitable party member

>>4239264
>If we had Force Animal Friend we could have gotten a Bull Rancor with an [EASY] skill check

>>4239192
>Sneak around the Bull Rancor. You don’t have any time to waste with this creature. [Stealth]
SNEAKSNEAKSNEAK

>>4239264
Now that would be funny.

>>4239264
Pft no you chump, it's the frog hiding in the pile of bones. A far more sinister opponent.

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>>4239196
>>4239197
>>4239198
>>4239201
>>4239220
>>4239236
>>4239237
>>4239264
>>4239276
“Stay here, alright? Don’t follow me. I’ll be back in a few hours, hopefully with a friend in tow...”

Brighthorn doesn’t seem to be too pleased with the order. Whether or not it’s loyalty to the rider, or apprehension at staying within a hundred meters of a giant Bull Rancor...realistically, it’s probably the latter. But here you are, talking to a quadruped as if you were speaking with a rambunctious Youngling.

“That thing he killed is gonna keep him full for a solid week. He won’t be going hunting again for a long while. And even if he does see you, I know for a fact that you can run circles around him, even if he wasn’t stuffed to the gills with all that food.”

She levels you a look that all but screamed: “Yeah, sure, and I also happen to have a degree in xeno-biology.”

Sighing, you reluctantly say, “...if it gets too dangerous, then you can retreat. But I do expect to find you back here when I return.”

Snorting derisively, the bronka settles down into small little alcove, one that affords her a view of the tunnel and protection from anyone’s sight. The only way one would detect her is by either smell or talent with the Force.

“...see you in a bit.”

Sneaking past the Rancor is a relatively easy affair. The rocks and geode formations are large enough to afford you great cover, even with the light and illumination playing off the crystals. All the Rancor is focused on is the consumption of its prize, slurping down sinew and bone and making a bloody mess of its nest. As far as it appears to be concerned, there are only two things in the beast’s world: its appetite and the prey it devours.

>>You sneak past the Bull Rancor without any trouble, and it remains ignorant of your existence.

Following the map, the tunnel you enter begins to take a gradual incline towards the surface. Troxl said that there’s a sort of boundary, an invisible line that once crossed, would mark your entrance into the Heart of the Jungle. So far, after thirty minutes of brisk jogging through an otherwise bleak and barren tunnel, you have yet to find one-

“...en...”

It came no louder than a whisper, and you could have sworn that you heard something. But the change is so abrupt that it comes nearly as a physical slap to the face. The dusty air of the underground quickly gives way to fresher air, and the tunnel soon fills with the scents and smells of a dense jungle. What starts off as a shy breath of wind quickly turns into a full-fledged draft that seems to breathe air from the exit...

The tunnel itself leads towards a small antechamber, seemingly build around the roots of a great tree. Cold, unyielding stone gives way to life-giving soil as you emerge from the darkness into the dim space of the area.

(cont.)

>>4239287
What a cliffhanger.

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>>4239287
>>4239683

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>>4239287
“How pictorial...” you murmur, eying your surroundings. Kneeling down, you brush the dust off of a spent blaster pack, lifting it carefully with your good hand. Standard G.A.R. issue munitions for a clone weapon. “...they definitely stopped here...”

Any sort of footprints or signs of evidence end here in the little room. You poke around a small earthen pit, sifting through the ashes of a campfire that went out several weeks ago. With a wayward glance in all directions, double-checking to make sure you haven’t missed anything...

You lick your finger, sticking it up in the air to catch the direction of the draft. And sure enough...
...is there even enough room between the roots for you to contort yourself through?

“...ren...”

>>The Heart of Kakarit

It must have been beautiful, once.

Troxl had undersold the description of the Heart. It isn’t just a temple as much as it is a large city, entirely built around a great ziggurat. The height of the temple affords you a view that goes on for miles. A great, dome-like thicket seems to cover the entirety of the Heart in a canopy of inter-woven, thorny tendrils.

“No one gets in...no one gets out...” you murmur.

Much like the planet and her people, the Heart has completely succumbed to the relentless advance of Jombaral. Curtains of thick moss and creeping vine are scrawled along the walls and surfaces, leaving everything tinged with a verdant shade. Tree roots snarl through stone, upending walkways or snaking through whatever gap they could find, uncaring of their blasphemy in their quest for sustenance. But in some cases, the overgrowth appears to support rather than undermine the buildings.

The ziggurat’s spires resemble those of the ones found in Nest’s End, although many have long crumbled into ruin. Those that remained had yellowed over time, and the sandstone resembles old ivory rather than the midnight, volcanic stone of the settlement. Thick vines wind like bandages around the forking spires of a great tower.

The ancient gods of the Kakari stare impassively at your arrival as you brush the dirt from your tunic and swallow another set of painkillers. If the tomb-like structures are anything to go by, then it seems that the tunnel seems to have deposited you in a crypt. How utterly morbid.

Exiting the catacombs and walking into an open-paved courtyard, you conclude that you have never seen a more dismal place. To the east stand four tall, free-standing columns that support nothing. A huge depression in the center of the temple housed a great pool of water. A quick inspection of the ruins reveal that this might have been a well or pool for ritualistic cleansing. Through the thick overhead of the canopy, what brief light shines through affords you a brief glace at your reflection, before giving way to a murky, impenetrable surface.

(cont.)

>>4239803
>10 & 1/2 hours in between updates
I’m glad you’re back man, but dude please

>>4239821
Yeah, sorry. I crashed hard in the middle of typing this last night. EST time sucks.

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>>4239803
For a brief moment, you entertain tossing a stone or a stick to test how deep the water goes, before chastising yourself for a stupid thought. It’s deep enough that you can’t see the bottom, which means that there could be something living inside of it.

“...Ren...”

The Heart is silent. It is a location painfully rich in the Living Force, but there is an eerie lifelessness that encircles the place. Where you might have expected to find birdsong or the insidious chirping of the porgs, there is nothing. It is an empty vacuum of sound where even the lightest footstep appears to be amplified.

Gripping your lightsaber in your good hand, you slowly stalk towards the temple depths. “...you aren’t making this easy for me, blueberry...”

>Roll 2d6+6 Perception [+2 Cunning, +2 Skill, +2 Jedi Shadow]
>Best out of three.

Rolled 5, 4 + 6 = 15 (2d6 + 6)

>>4239836

Rolled 5, 1 + 6 = 12 (2d6 + 6)

>>4239836

Rolled 6, 5 + 6 = 17 (2d6 + 6)

>>4239836

>>4239846
Hory shit.

>>4239846
Noice.

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>>4239846
Nice
Someone please tell me Arotta’s gonna be alright
or at least that she didn’t suffer

>>4239896
She's probably 9/10ths redwood tree Anon. You gotta put the gasoline on her body and toss the lit match. You gotta let her go.

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>>4239839
>>4239840
>>4239846
You never were really good at hide and seek, were you, Arotta? It’s hard to not grin as you pick up a trail. Between the long, heavy strides of clones in full armor, you spot the light, smaller steps of an unarmored person between them. Then again, all we were ever good at was fighting...

Among other things...

The trail that leads from the crypts and the tunnel is old, but you easily deduce where they had gone. Towards the north of the courtyard and the purification pool, only one of the spires appeared to be relatively untouched by vines. It is finely constructed of pure white stone, supported by tall, slender columns. A large pair of double-doors bearing the visage of some lizard god match your impassive gaze.

They had stopped in front of the temple, but hadn’t been able to enter. From the dried blood and half-melted stones beneath your feet, a desperate fight had broken out between the Children and Arotta’s Clones. You spot up more spent ammunition clips, pins for thermal detonators...but no corpses of either side in the conflict.

“...they barely managed to escape...” you murmur to yourself, following the footprints around the spire. A row of ruined columns line a gravel pathway, leading to an overgrown garden. The Kakari statues that once stood atop them lay broken, and in some cases, grotesquely defaced. Everything is old, so old that you think it might make Master Yoda feel young.

Suddenly, you tense. Within the garden itself, you spot a small grove of the dreaded Eeche fruit, gently swaying in the wind. A foul mood settles within you, you have to resist the urge to test your new Force power against it. It is with the detached, clinical apathy of an observer that you approach the garden.
“...arren...”

Here, you find your first proper remnants of the Clones. Several Phase II helmets lie about the garden in various states of damage and disrepair. You count at least eight of them, scattered haphazardly without a care in the world. Some appear to have been removed voluntarily...others, not so much given the rotting heads within them.

From the looks of things, they seem to have made a last stand against the Children, and sold themselves dearly against the False Mother. Worryingly, several of the branches of the eeche tree are missing fruit. And judging from the sickeningly, saccharine smell and dried fruit stains that have congealed against their helmets...

“The survivors were forced to kneel...” you observe a set of heavy-set prints, “...stripped and force-fed ...and then they were dragged off somewhere...” You notice a particularly violent crater within the otherwise immaculate garden...and a pair of light footsteps breaking away like a bat out of hell.

“...they sacrificed themselves so that she could escape...”

>>What will you do?
>Burn the Eeche grove with Force Fire and see what happens.
>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.

>>4239953
>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.
Stealth is all we have here. Keep moving.

>>4239953
>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.
Why is "set shit on fire out of curiosity" even an option.

>>4239953
>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.

>>4239953
>>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.

>>4239953
>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.

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>>4239953
>>Burn the Eeche grove with Force Fire and see what happens.
It wouldn't have been offered if it wouldn't make things interesting.

>>4239953
>Burn the Eeche grove with Force Fire and see what happens.
Let's get dangerous

>>4239953
>>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.

>>4239953
>Proceed on your way towards the trail Arotta took.
Because lighting a fire is SO stealthy.

>>4240047
>implying the sentient jungle doesn't already know where we are

>>4240059
You're right, we need to learn the Art of the Small from Vergere...

>>4240063
Shit here on Kakarit is about as vongy as it gets without being vong. I'd half expected the natives to mention some feathered witch chilling in the jungle, but it looks like Kaz is going full Supernatural Encounters on us, which is so much better imo

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>>4239960
>>4239964
>>4239966
>>4239971
>>4239973
>>4239975
>>4239990
>>4240025
>>4240047
Tempting as that particular thought is...

“...bad idea...”

The footsteps lead away from the garden; the distance between each step, easily a meter apart, could only have belonged to Arotta. With the Force, the length of her stride and speed could easily surpass that of even the most conditioned soldier. It would have been easy for her to outrun the Children without much trouble.

Still, a thought suddenly occurs. At the very least, Arotta didn’t have to witness or experience the effects and aftermath of Order 66. Her latest memory of the clones would be of them as loyal soldiers. But you shake off any maudlin thoughts before they can go any further, and proceed on your way.

The trail leads down a gradual incline, snaking around the ziggurat to one of the lower levels behind the spire. The garden and the putrid scent of the eeche give way to something more earthen, like a fresh mound of soil exposed to the air. Your nose wrinkles at the unpleasant smell...

...and you nearly walk head-long into one of the Children.

Years of training stay your hand, even as your instincts scream at you to ignite your lightsaber. You swiftly backpedal behind the mausoleum, taking cover beneath the alcove of a forgotten god, surreptitiously peering around the corner to where the Children gather.

They...aren’t quite Tall Walkers. The five creatures no less than a few meters away appear to be smaller, more compact versions of the terrifying giants. But they still have two heads on you, gently swaying in the breeze as they remain rooted to the soil...resting, perhaps? To your own growing discomfort, their own patch of soil appears to be only one among dozens that stretch across the level...

Is this some sort of nursery? you can’t help but wonder. But what would make the ‘Womb of Jombaral’, if not a place for new Children to grow? Certainly, it would be a logistical nightmare to bring any of their victims deep into the underground...

But none of those thoughts matter. The trail seems to stop here. There doesn’t appear to be any sign of a struggle...Arotta’s footprints just cease a handful of meters after you round the corner.

Damn...this certainly complicates things-

“...Farren...!”

A roar the likes you’ve never heard before suddenly erupts from some uncertain point within the Heart. It isn’t quite as awful as the noise made by the Tall Walkers, but it still curdles your blood, and chills you to the core. Not even a second after its utterance, a terrific explosion obliterates a section of the ziggurat in a fiery ball.

The Heart trembles, and the overhead canopy shudders from the violence. Almost at once, the entirety of the city stirs to life. With a tearing noise, the Tall Saplings uproot themselves from their bed of loam, stumbling, tripping and falling over themselves as they race towards the source of the noise.

(cont.)

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Cursing, you retreat further into the alcove, using only the barest amount of Force power to mute your presence as the city-temple becomes a cacophony of sound. Not entirely dissimilar to a body fighting off an infection, the Saplings and whatever forces they can muster (including infected Clone Troopers, much to your chagrin) are mustering towards the foreign body. Which in that case, might include you if you aren’t too careful.

By sheer happenstance, the wind blows the acrid fumes caused by the explosion over your hiding place. A cautious whiff and taste of the air...

...just as you confirm the scent of a thermal detonator, the distinctive snap-hiss of a lightsaber cuts through the pandemonium of the jungle.

“...show-off...” you grunt, stepping out from the alcove to chase after the Saplings, jumping from ruin to pillar, uncaring of the discomfort in your arm. Still, you can’t keep the hope in your chest from leaking into your voice. “...always have to one-up me, why don’t you?”

=Line Break=

Kakarit had not been kind to Arrota. In lieu of the Jedi robes, your rival fights the Children in little more than scraps of cloth barely held together by lengths of rope. The loincloth that girdles her waist hides little in the way of her thighs and hips, fluttering dangerously above her groin as she flips above a Sapling.

She could care little about her modesty, electing to devote the sturdier parts of her equipment and what appear to be trophies. A necklace of what appear to be either teeth or droid parts rattles with every breath, with every blow that lops a limb off a Sapling. The sky-blue hue of her skin seems to have bronzed after months in the sun, glistening with sweat and exertion...

If nothing else, the patchwork mess of clothing seems to highlight and accentuate the best of her features...nothing that you haven’t seen before. Force help you, but it’s incredibly arousing to watch her dispatch a Sapling with a lightsaber, before ripping it to shreds with the Force.

At the approaching reinforcements, Arotta screams something in her native tongue, a wild look in her bloodshot eyes: “ Sva bahko! Togruta watap d'mehkt!”

"Come, poison", if your Togruti isn’t wrong, "Dance of the dead with this Togruta..."

>>What will you do?
>Join her in the fight. She needs your help.
>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.
>Custom option. [Write-in.]

[VOTE OPEN FOR THREE HOURS]

Gonna grab some dinner, BRB.

>>4240268
>Join her in the fight. She needs your help.
Hmmmmm...

>>4240268
>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.
With this much activity, something's coming.

>>4240268
>>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.
She ate three of these fruits, she probably be trippin' balls and shittin' green.

>>4240277
It seems to me that she may have gone feral with the influence of The Force and fruits.

>>4240268
>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.
A reminder that this ain't tarzan.

>>4240268
>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.
Sounds like we'll need to take her round the space shed with a blaster.

>>4240268
>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.

>>4240268
>>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.
Either big root energy plantboi is coming or this is just some weird flora foreplay. Either way an ambush would help.

>>4240268
>>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.
C’mon please let us save her
I just want Farren to be happy

>>4240268
>>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.

>>4240268
>>Remain hidden. Something isn’t right.

>>4240268
Join her, then fight her

>>4240278
She's probably infected, but I'm willing to bet that Force Sensitivity gives you a fighting chance at driving out the influence.

File: Feral Eyes.gif (1.01 MB, 568x320)

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>>4240272
>>4240277
>>4240278
>>4240301
>>4240311
>>4240313
>>4240335
>>4240378
>>4240390
>>4240408
>>4240444
It’s so tempting for you to reveal yourself, to run out towards her and apologize for all the stupidity, all the bad blood you shared in your childhoods and adolescence. It all was so immature, a waste of time and effort. Whether or not you actually had feelings for her beyond sentimentality’s sake could wait to be sorted out when you’d returned to Mylar-3.

All you want more than anything else is another reminder of a time before Order 66, before everything went to hell. Kristen lies comatose within the Bantha, Torok came too close to indulging in the Dark Side...at least, you’d be able to save Arotta-

“...Farren, stop...!”

But something’s wrong. There’s something horribly wrong...

As the battle intensifies, Arotta’s behavior seems to deteriorate with every passing strike. The togruta laughter is maniacal, bordering on ecstatic as she leaps from one Sapling to the next in an orgy of violence. Aratu has always been her best form, in addition to her own Makashi to counter you in the dueling grounds, but she has long since abandoned those for a far more brutal, efficient butchery.

This...this is a battle in every sense of the word. But what your rival is performing is not even Jedi Arts, or the teachings of the Order. And her eyes...not quite Sith in the way of other Dark Jedi you’d battled before, but bloodshot, almost glowing with an animalistic bloodlust.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you watch the ground erupt behind her. A Sapling pulls itself from the soil, rearing its talons for a flanking strike. Caught up in the kill of the Children before her, Arotta has little time to react as it rakes its claws across her back.

The scream of pain that erupts from her throat is enough to drive you mad. Just barely, you resist the urge to leap from your hiding spot and strike down the monster. The knuckles around your lightsaber are white, trembling as your rival stumbles forward, falling to the ground as blood seeps down her back. The Saplings close in, a dozen from all sides with talons raised and outstretched...

“Mi grut det...” she growls, past a smile far too wide, far too predatory to be anything but beautiful. The shredded cloth that holds her top together fall away in bloody rags, leaving her chest exposed to the elements. But she doesn’t care, not as she raises her empty hands together and the Force swells within her. “Yeh...hoba det...”

I am the hunter. You are the prey.

In your own puerile games of beating each other senseless with training lightsabers, Arotta had never had the time to hone her own talents in the Force. It would not be inaccurate to say she is just as proficient as you are...but the explosion of power that erupts from her body is nothing like you'd ever seen before.

(cont.)

Eating dinner, gonna post the rest soon.

>>4241832
>she growls, past a smile far too wide, far too predatory to be anything but beautiful
>Arotta had never had the time to hone her own talents in the Force. It would not be inaccurate to say she is just as proficient as you are
Slightly confused by these lines. I assume what is meant is that the smile is too wide to be beautiful and that while she never quite measured up to us in the past, she’s uncontrollably powerful here in the jungle.

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>>4241832
>But what your rival is performing is not even Jedi Arts, or the teachings of the Order. And her eyes...not quite Sith in the way of other Dark Jedi you’d battled before, but bloodshot, almost glowing with an animalistic bloodlust.
On the plus side, putting down rabid Jedi seems to be our bread and butter.

>>4241832
She'll be awesome in bed.

>>4241934
>>4241875
I don't know about you guys but I think I'm ready to put old yeller down.

>>4241946
>>4241875
I think Arotta's force soul thingy is displaced from her body.

Fucking space nam. My feet hurt. I want to hang out with the droids. Never should have come here. And put your damn tits away you stupid blue thot.

You spend a week or two in the green hell and suddenly you go native. What a terrible resolve.

>>4241989
>Week or two
You mean months right?

>>4242006
Doesn't matter. She's a goof.

>>4242012
>Survived several months with dwindling rations and poisoned fruits as the only easily accessible source of food while fighting never-ending swarms of enemies.
>goof
wrong term here.

>>4242015
>doesn't know how to properly survive and instead gets into fights all the time
You're right, she's a turbogoof.

>>4242024
>Being hunted day and night by the forest that Wants to kill you and can see your every move
she's becoming more competent the longer this conversation goes on.

>>4242044
>some lizards have been doing it for an undisclosed and far longer period of time
Not impressed that she's doing what literal savages have managed. And that she's dumb enough to try doing it in the worst way possible. Capable or not she's a goof. It's inevitable. She cannot escape the goofdom.

>>4242058
>The savages who are intimately familiar with the threat and live in places where it can't reach them.
>Compared to the girl who went into the heart and has been surviving in there for several months.
really makes you thonk doesn't it?

>>4242066
I can eat soup with a fork. She can hide where she knows they can get.

Yeah it makes me think she's a dumbass for eating her soup with a fork. She's the eternal goof.

>>4242074
>you can go in but everyone who has has never returned.
>the enemy's surveillance network is absolutely pervasive, preventing any meaningful rest.
>going progressively more insane due to the fruity influence.
>still managing to put up a significant offense against tireless enemies.
>eating soup with a fork.

>>4242089
You're right. I gave her too much credit. Eating soup with a fork is a conscious decision to do something in an utterly inefficient and difficult way. She's just too stupid to realize she's making things harder on herself.

Omegagoof.

>>4242094
>too stupid to realize
>can't leave even if she wanted to
irreconcilable

>>4242113
Yes, you've only strengthened my resolve that she is the queen goof. We will never see eye to eye.

>>4241832
>Feral Torgruta
>battle horny to begin with
>we’re her husbando
Incoming Rape alert

>>4242203
>She still fights off a fuck load of tree people while riding our hips into pure dust
There are worse ways to die as a Jedi.

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>>4241934
>>4242203
>>4242209
>the cumbrains came back

>>4242229
>Implying they ever left
You are like the jedi order. Prideful and blind to the ways of the sith.

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>>4241832
The Saplings caught within the immediate vicinity don’t break or snap as much as disintegrate into ash. Plants wither and die, the soil becomes chalky and barren, stone crumbles into dust as pure, undiluted Force energy violently floods everything and anything round Arotta within a twenty-foot radius. Tendrils of lighting dance at the edge of her fingertips, lashing and ravaging the area in a chaotic maelstrom...

The hilt of your lightsaber groans as you grip it tightly. There hadn’t been any of the Dark Side in her technique, nothing but pure, unbridled energies of the Force channeled in her desperation to survive. But there’s no mistaking the technique for what it is...especially when Force Lighting was a necessary component.

Unlike Torok, there is no font of Dark Side bubbling up within her. Closing your eyes, gently extending your senses out with the Force...and the power that radiates off her body is nearly enough to scald you. It’s wild and feral, full of life and energy that fought to be released. Not entirely dissimilar to the Force signature you’d found on the Herald...

...but you can distinctly make out Arotta’s own personal hue. There’s no way for you to forget it. The rude and brusque togruta that you know far more intimately is still there, fighting to stay in control of the new and sudden energies within her...infecting her...

How many of the fruit had she eaten? Three, you idly recall. Had she eaten more? Swore off them and stuck to rations? How was she surviving in the Heart?

Arotta stands up slowly, wincing as she reaches towards her back. She frowns as her hands come away matted with blood. The gashes themselves aren’t too deep, only a handful of centimeters deep. A flesh wound by any other measures.

But what does concern her, as well as you, is the sight of bright orange sap on her fingernails. Hissing angrily, she wipes her hand across one of the rags on her legs. Arotta plucks what appears to be a bundle of leaves, chewing on them before swallowing bitterly. A natural anti-infectant, perhaps? Or some sort of painkiller-

There is little warning beyond stiff nod of determination and a narrowing of her eyes.

Arotta reverses her grip on her lightsaber, and presses it against the wounds on her back. Flesh steams and blood boils as she presses the beam against her injuries, and the stench of cooked meat causes you to nearly gag. Arotta lets out a pained scream, clenching her teeth as her weapon not only burns away the sap, but cauterizes the wounded flesh...

...that would explain the scars, you think somewhat dumbly to yourself.

>>What will you do?
>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.
>Reveal yourself to her. Enough is enough, and this has gone on for far too long.

[VOTE OPEN FOR TWO HOURS]

>>4242237
I guess then you're like the Sith in that you are completely unaware that you have no control over your life and are just a walking mass of backwards decisions masquerading as "freedom"? Or do you just like black leather?

>>4242229
>muhmbrain
The new marching orders are "coomer", drone.

Anyway, it's a likely outcome if we haven't fixed her by the time she finds us after ripping and tearing.

>>4242242
>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.
Stealth is the way we got in, it's the way we'll get us out.

>>4242242
>>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.
Stop hiding you overgrown houseplant. We all know you felt that. Get down here so we can gank you you leafy fuck.

>>4242243
Personally I like hating my car batteries into having the energy to power my car. The leather on the other is very much so last millennium.

>>4242242
>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.
Stealth is our strength after all.

>>4242242
>>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.
Maybe see if we can find where that voice in our head is coming from. Could be Master Kosa...

>>4242244
>it's a likely outcome
It appears you're mistaking this for a tgchan quest.
>>4242242
>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.

>>4242242
>Reveal yourself to her. Enough is enough, and this has gone on for far too long.

We don't have to kill the herald right now, and our main priority is rescuing Arotta.
The longer we put that off the more danger she'll be in.

>>4242253
>The leather on the other is very much so last millennium.
Well it's a good thing that not only is this a long time ago but also very far away.

>>4242242
>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.
Someone got sap?
Prepare that double tap.

>>4242209
We are likely two very different men, but we are now brothers in spirit
>>4242242
>Reveal yourself to her. Enough is enough, and this has gone on for far too long.
Never approach an animal in its home or where it’s cornered

>>4242242
>Reveal yourself to her. Enough is enough, and this has gone on for far too long.

>>4242284
>Never approach an animal in its home or where it’s cornered
You have a point.

>>4242242
>Reveal yourself to her. Enough is enough, and this has gone on for far too long.

>>4242242
>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.

>>4242242
>>Remain hidden and follow her. She has to have a safe place in the Heart to hide.

>>4242292
>You have a point.
You know he's just trying to get snu-snu, right? Besides, it'd be far better for us to have our big dumb anime fight in the relative safety of her hovel than right out in the middle of the place here.
>inb4 why would she fight us
Because she's gone nutty and she just got out of a fight. Still has the adrenaline going. It'll be a fight either way.

Also he's low-key saying she's sub-sentient or whatever. So that's nice.

>>4242301
>Still has the adrenaline going
Also a good point. Wouldn't he want to get raped in said hovel, though?

I'm abstaining.

>>4242301
Adding to this: Don't forget that shes clearly using force powers that a normal padawan would have problems with, if they were even allowed to learn them, and that the fruit was described as addictive. Plus, don't forget that while force sensitives have a bit of resistance to Jombaral's influence, resistance isn't immunity, especially if the only thing she's been eating is the fruit.

>>4242319
I don't think he really cares where it happens.

>>4242301
It's a shit show either way you slice it. Personally I'm hoping that following her will just let us know where she holds up and we'll be given a choice there to either go in and talk or leave to go tackle the heart.
It's gonna be a pain in the ass fighting with one arm to state the fookin obvious.

>>4242368
Clearly we need a robot arm. Much easier to replace and it hurts less to lose.

>>4242379
Don't stop at just one, get four extra limbs like Doc Ock.

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>>4242249
>>4242250
>>4242253
>>4242257
>>4242259
>>4242266
>>4242280
>>4242288
>>4242292
>>4242294
>>4242296
By the time she’s certain that the purge is complete, Arotta’s back is an ugly mess of scar tissue and smoking flesh. The slightest movement seems to bring discomfort, and she winces with every labored breath. Even with the ability to Control or otherwise regulate pain, that experience could not have been pleasant.

After devouring more of the plant in her pockets, she tastes the air, sifting through the ashes of the Tall Saplings with her foot. The chalky soil yields nothing. With an irritated growl, she affixes her lightsaber to her belt, stumbling down the ziggurat without looking back...

...you wait for a few moments before you follow her.

The Heart, for all intents and purposes, seems to have quieted somewhat. At the base of the temple, you can see dozens of Children fighting the flames from her thermal detonator, smothering the fire with their own bodies. The nursery is still reeling from the sheer power that Arotta’s Maelstrom unleashed; the soil trembles, and what few remaining Saplings stand elect to remain sedentary and stationary...

In the back of your mind, you instinctively know that even with the pandemonium, something should have noticed your arrival. Dampening your own connection to the Force certainly goes a long way. However, what’s stopping one of the Children from simply looking at your direction? If the Heart is one big organism, then certainly, something should have already happened...

“...why the hell am I complaining?” you mutter as you round another bend, hopping from one level of the ziggurat to the next.

Arotta’s trail leads into a corridor at near the bottom of the ziggurat, disappearing into a manhole that you quickly enter into. She hadn’t been nearly thorough enough with her lightsaber; every few steps or so are marred by splotches of her own blood. Most of it is still red. But as per the Clones’ rhyme, a small amount of it looks worryingly green in the dim light of the canopy.

But you shake your head, focusing instead on your immediate surroundings. “Sewage or maintenance tunnel...”

It’s a haphazard guess at best, since you see nearby pedestals with more defaced gods of the Kakarit. But by the Force, the smell! Between the stagnant rain water that drips from the nursery and the overhead canopy...add into what you suspect to be thousands of years’ worth of sewage from before the time of Jombaral...

“You’d think they’d shovel this out,” you wheeze, pinching your nose tight as you slip on a rebreather, “...put it back into the soil...”

The smell of ammonia is overpowering. Little wonder why Arotta might make this her hiding place. From what you remember in the greenhouses in the Temple, too much of the fertilizer is toxic. Of course, it also applied to most carbon-based life forms, barring the few species that breathed it as one might oxygen.

(cont.)

>>4242301
I mean, the word Feral has been thrown around and I’d guess that she wasn’t having a good time BEFORE 66 and the death of her master so I’m also guessing (based on the muttering) that she’s a little nuts and possibly tapping into the Dark Side (which is known to fuck with sanity)
Sure, I want some Blue Snu Snu, but that doesn’t stop me from knowing how to deal with fragile people who are real angry
Cornered Animals Lash Out, doesn’t matter if they’re emotionally cornered or physically cornered and nobody sleeps without their back against a wall

>>4242427
The clones with Kosa didn't get the order, and we just got a description that she's not using the Dark Side at all.

>>4242427
Just to let you know, we don't know what happened to Arotta's master. She ran off into the jungle with a platoon while Master Kosa stuck with the clones until around day 87, along with Skipp.

>>4242434
Jombaral doesn't use the dark side, but it's still dangerous as fuck.

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>>4242414
You have a rebreather. Arotta does not. Between the insidious influence of the fruit she had already eaten, whatever she had to scrounge to survive, and the toxic atmosphere of the sewers...little wonder why she’s gone native. Although one would think her lungs would have corroded over the months she’d been trapped.

Then again, Togruta physiology isn’t your most knowledgeable subject...at least beyond the bedroom or the sparring pad. Something to look into when you get back to Mylar-3.

The trail of blood and footprints lead towards a filthy cistern, and a drain clogged with all manner of debris. The only thing devoid of moss and grime is the statue of a life-sized Kakari, dressed in the same manner of clothing you’d seen on Bos. Her hands are raised in supplication towards a slightly-domed cieling, holding a brazier where one might have lit fire, but there’s something about its features that strikes you odd...

...you can’t quite put your finger on it. You’ve only had a handful of days to stay with the natives. Beyond Troxl’s iconic blue scales, and Bos’ clothing, all of the Kakari look the same.

But when your attention turns back towards the trail, it abruptly vanishes. The footprints on the paved walkway appear to vanish at its end, as if their owner had leapt into the pool. With a grimace, you begin to shuck off your outermost robes. Swimming was not the first thing that you had in mind, unless there’s some sort of secret passage underneath the pedestal...

...oh, what the hell.

Examining the pedestal yields nothing. No secret passages, no hidden buttons, nothing beyond a closer look at the Kakari Shamanka...who starts to bear more of a passing resemblance as you look at its features...perhaps a distant ancestor of sorts?

Bah, at any rate, you’re looking for an excuse to not take the plunge into the filth. An air vent or side grate, anything where she might have gone. Straining against the statue in search of such a thing yields nothing...

It comes no louder than a whisper on the wind: “Mi grut det...maij ghe...”

A drop splatters on your shoulder, reeking of iron and chlorophyll.

The translation of the latter half kicks in only after you look up to where the Kakari’s hands are raised, higher than the features you’d so intently focused on...

...and find Arotta staring back at you with that insane gleam in her eyes, holding herself above the statue with supernatural strength, uncaring of the pain as she presses her back into the dome, uncaring of anything beyond the sight before her eyes:

Fresh meat.

A trip wire breaks with a quiet sigh, the final nail in the reversal of predator and prey as high-tension wire begins to whine.

“Oh, kriff.”

>Roll 2d6+6 Vigilance [+3 Resolve, +1 Skill, +2 Jedi Shadow]
>Best out of three.

Rolled 6, 4 + 6 = 16 (2d6 + 6)

>>4242439
WEW!

Rolled 5, 5 + 6 = 16 (2d6 + 6)

>>4242439
And this is why you take the advantage.

Rolled 4, 5 + 6 = 15 (2d6 + 6)

>>4242439

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Rolled 3, 6 + 6 = 15 (2d6 + 6)

>>4242439

For Kriff indeed

Rolled 5, 4 + 6 = 15 (2d6 + 6)

>>4242439
Jesus.

She's watched to many holo-flicks. Oldest trick in the book.

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>>4242441
>>4242442
>>4242445
“...Farren, run...!”

It’s only by pure instincts, not even the Force, that compel you to throw yourself across the floor. In the split-second that followed, a tripwire screams and would have caught your foot in a vice, propelling you up towards the dome. The statue, seemingly the counterweight to the trap, falls off the pedestal to smash itself upon the floor as the trap snatches nothing.

Arotta’s scream of fury echoes loudly in the stoneworks of the sewage. Falling down from the ceiling, the togruta lands on her feet, only wincing slightly at the pain that shoots up her legs. Then, with another feral screech, she ignites her lightsaber and throws herself towards you.

You roll, just as her blue blade drives itself into the walkway. Cursing, you leap onto your feet, igniting your own golden blade to block her next attack. For the first time in what might have been several months to her, the sound of lightsabers clashing echoes throughout the sewers as you lock blades and struggle for dominance over the other.

“Arotta!” You curse inwardly at her inhuman strength. She’s always been strong, but not this strong. “Stop, you stupid blueberry, it’s me! Farren Gaelle-”

Her only answer is an inarticulate snarl as she tries to bite you. The sharp canine teeth iconic to her species just barely miss your neck. When you counter with a swift headbutt, she retreats in what might have looked like an Ataru technique. Perhaps she isn’t as gone as you had thought.

...which is gonna make this a whole lot harder than you’d like...

>>What lightsaber form will you use?
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]
>From VI/Niman, the Hybrid’s Form. [2d6+8]

Rolled 4, 1, 3 + 6 = 14 (3d6 + 6)

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]
As much of a problem it has against brute force. It's sadly our greatest strength.

>>4242463
Wait, are we supposed to roll now, or wait until you tell us to?

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]
Welp, time to put the old girl down

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form

Rolled 2, 2, 5 + 6 = 15 (3d6 + 6)

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]

>>4242469
Just hold tight. I'm gonna call for a roll in a few minutes once voting's ended.

Rolled 4, 1, 5 + 6 = 16 (3d6 + 6)

>>4242463

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]

>>4242463
>>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]

Rolled 4, 4, 2 + 6 = 16 (3d6 + 6)

>>4242463
>>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]

>>4242463
>Form II/Makashi, the Duelist’s Form. [3d6+6]
She looks too hyped up on fruit to tire out in the normal way of Ataru, but I wonder if more fundamental lightsaber techniques will jog some muscle memory. Would Form I do anything?

>>4242465
>>4242466
>>4242467
>>4242471
>>4242472
>>4242474
>>4242477
>>4242479
>>4242483
>>4242485
You take a deep breath, pocketing the rebreather. A limited amount of exposure to the ammonia might make you dizzy, but it won’t outright kill you. And you need all the breath you can muster without some machine getting in your way.

“Alright...you wanna spar?” Sighing, you fall into a duelist’s stance. “It’s been a while since we’ve went at it...last time we met, I think I still had more wins than you. Didn’t stop you from hauling me off into the nearest storage unit for some stress relief...”

Arotta growls, stuffing her mouth with more of those leaves in her belt. Definitely some kind of opiate or narcotic, then. With the mess of her back the way it is, there isn’t any other way she’d be able to match you strike-for-strike...and all the more reason for you to be careful.

On some deeper part of your brain that hasn’t evolved out of the Stone Age, it remarks that it would be a shame to scar her up any more than necessary. Or maybe to approach bringing her back to sanity in a lewder way...

“Come on, you big, feral, blueberry,” you gesture, quenching those thoughts with an iron finality. The Force billows around you gently as you offer her a duelist’s salute. “I’ve come too far and suffered too much to simply let you regress back a few thousand years and make a literal snack out of me...”

She spits, thrusting her chest at you provocatively with a sneer on her face. “Yhe’na!”

Survive.

And then the two of you start to kill each other.

>>Please roll 3d6+8 Makashi.
>Best out of three.

Rolled 5, 5, 6 + 6 = 22 (3d6 + 6)

>>4242494

Rolled 6, 3, 2 + 6 = 17 (3d6 + 6)

>>4242494

Rolled 4, 2, 6 + 8 = 20 (3d6 + 8)

>>4242494
WEW!

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>>4242496

>>4242496
Nice. You gotta love Makashi.

>>4242496
Jesus. Apparently we have an innate bonus for battering blueberries.

>>4242496
>you manage to lightsaber parry the Force Maelstorm

>>4242496
Yeahhhh...

>>4242502
...oh no?

>>4242502
>>4242496
good roll!
but it should be even 2 points higher, he only added 6 to the dice

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>>4242496
>24
Goodbye, togruta fuckbuddy

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>>4242508
LET THE BLOOD SPILL AND THE BONES BREAK BENEATH THE WOMB OF THE WORLD!

>>4242502
>>4242508
I make big roll

>>4242496
Word spreads across the Empire of FARREN "WEEDWHACKER" GAELLE

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>>4242506
And here I had this dramatic duel planned out. Damn you, /qst/ dice.

>>4242520
This was never a duel Kaz, merely Farren coming to terms with what is standing before him.

>>4242520
It's okay Kaz.

We'll blind a Padawan by accident during basic training to make up for it.

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>>4242513
MAY THE PENANCE WE DELIVER THIS DAY ONLY CEMENT OUR DEVOTION TO THE PATH OF THE JUST AND RIGHTEOUS

>>4242434
They didn’t get the order, but she felt 99% of all Jedi get gunned down while on Space Nam

>>4242545
Fair 'nuf.

>>4242496
K E K
>>4242546
Thanks, and all a this is kinda what I wanted to avoid although we probably would have been ambushed by a monster and would have had to team up to kill it or have a nifty three way battle with the blue buttcheeks

>>4242515
>Not Farren “BlueSmacker” Gaelle
>Farren “I don’t give a hoot-a if you’re not torgruta” Gaelle
>Farren “if you’re killing plants, then I’m taking off my pants” Gaelle
>Farren “Order 66? But I need my montral fix” Gaelle
>Farren “Lekku Lust” Gaelle
>Farren “As long as she’s got Abs” Gaelle
>Farren “I’m swimmin in Warrior Women” Gaelle

>>4242558
>not literally any decent nickname
You're doing this on purpose, right?

Uh, OP ...I know I’ve already made a post about something missing from the skills list, but I just now realized we’re also missing Force Jump 1 from the powers list...

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>>4242560
>Farren “her booty’s Blue, I know what I must do” Gaelle
>Farren “I want the Blue Snu-Snu” Gaelle

>>4242589
>Farren "A fan of fruit? Give them the boot" Gaelle
>Farren "You like that tree? Stay away from me" Gaelle

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>>4242496
>>4242497
>>4242498
With every clash of your ligthsabers, brilliant bursts of gold and blue illuminate the darkness of the sewer. The little shrine with the Kakari priestess is the first casualty, the dome and pillars sliced to pieces with every backswing or parry that sends someone’s weapon flying. It doesn’t take too long before the very floor beneath you begins to bear molten scars and scorch marks from the ferocity of your duel.

The two of you are arguably more conservative than you could be. Foregoing the more show-stopping techniques afforded by the Force, there seems to be some unspoken agreement to only use lightsabers, and limit Force techniques. A sign of respect between duelists, or the idling machinations of a predator toying with her prey?

But you’d hope that neither of you would be so stupid to use the Force in such close quarters, and in a relatively unstable location. At least a thousand tons worth of stone hang above your heads, thousands of years old and supported only by the roots of the invading plant life. One wrong swing or application with the Force could open a pocket of ammonia gas, and trigger a catastrophic explosion that would see you and Arotta obliterated.

Is she aware of those things? Probably not, given how wild Arotta dances from one surface to the next. Her lightsaber is a blue hornet, ducking and weaving from one attack to the next in an attempt to expose a weakness. There is hardly more than a few seconds when she isn’t moving, snarling or otherwise setting her species back a few hundred thousand years in cultural development.

You, on the other hand, remain steadfast and resolute. Protecting your left side as best you can, you adopt a conservative policy of defending and counter-attacking. The right side of your body is addressed to Arotta, no matter where she flips or flies and strikes from. The slimy, grime-covered walkway goes a long way in helping you pivot or otherwise make quick adjustments with every new angle of attack.

Master Larid would have been proud. True enough, it’s hellishly difficult to parry or block with only a single hand, especially when she comes in with a double-handed strike. But as long as you either dodge away or pivot, Arotta’s doing most of the work. You’ve barely moved more than a meter away from your initial starting point. All she’s done is tire herself out from her flips and acrobatics.

Aratu is certainly a good style for someone like her. It’s an aggressive technique, with kinetic movements that demand its practitioner to stay almost constantly on the offensive. Masters Yoda and Tsu-Choi are (or were) masters of the art. But with its great emphasis on speed and stamina, the style is best employed in short, and devastating bursts.

Hardly ideal for prolonged combat.

Add into the fact that Arotta had the flesh nearly skinned off her back. Sure, she'd ingested some sort of plant. But when she’d come off that high...

(cont,)

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>>4242614
That fuckin pic
> “Imma kriffin do a jump kick at this bitch”
> “did this Force dammed Jeed just leap at me like he’s straight outta prawn lake and not expect me to cut his foot in half”
Kek

>>4242618
>surprise lightsaber foot, bitch

>>4242614
There. You lead in with a thrust towards the side. Her face contorts as she moves to block the attack, nearly screaming with exertion. At the last second, she steps out of the way, propelling herself backwards on the slimy walkway, wincing at the movement, failing to hid the way her limbs tremble...

Your counter-offensive is swift and brutal. Count Dooku might have been proud. Your advance is unforgiving, and leaves no room for error. Slashes and diagonals are easy enough to parry. Not so much with thrusts and lunges. You drive her back into a corner, back against a dead end, giving her no room to flip or maneuver.

By the time the last blow comes, the painkillers seem to have worn off. Her hands are trembling terribly, and nothing but sheer force of will keeps her standing. Arotta can barely hold her weapon. The final blow comes as a thrust, which she sloppily attempts to parry. With a deft flick of your wrist, you bat her lightsaber out of the way, swiveling to the ground, up in the air...

...and out of her hands. With a grimace of pain, you extend your left arm as far as it can from the sling, and reach out with the Force. The weapon of your rival leaps into your open hand, and you hold on tightly. Arotta manages an inarticulate roar of anger, abandoning her form in an attempt to tackle you...

“Yield...” you demand heatedly, lowering your lightsaber towards the floor “I know that there’s enough of you in there that can understand be, you stupid, prideful, blueberry. Sit the kriff down. I’ve got rations and some of that miracle laxative Bos-”

She doesn’t listen. When does she ever? Mustering up the last vestiges of her strength, Arotta lunges towards you. But before you can get your lightsaber back up in time, her hands dig into the side of your head. With a tight grip on your hair and padawan braids, she isn’t gentle as she violently brings your lips onto hers.

Much like the other times you’ve come together, the kiss is rough and desperate. The sharpened ends of her canines pierce your lip, filling your mouths with the sharp tang of iron. This close, there’s no getting away from her; her musk fills your nose, the taste of something cloying and a fresh kill sears your tongue...

...you’ve missed this. Try as hard as you want to deny it, reject the sensation of her skin against yours, her warmth against your chest...

She breaks away, gasping as her hands trail down towards your arms, almost tearing at your clothes with desperation: “Ke’leh.”

But before she can go any further...

“Sorry,” you apologize, only an instant before rear back and headbutt her as hard as possible.

Arotta’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she collapses onto the ground in a jumbled, unconscious heap. Scratching the back of your head, and rubbing the taste of what you hope isn’t Eeche off your lips, you get to work as you ponder the last thing she’d said.

Mate.

=====

>>4242242
>Reveal yourself to her. Enough is enough, and this has gone on for far too long.

>>4242629
Forget to F5? You're only about five hours and six story posts late for that.

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I'm taking some of the day off tomorrow (or today [5/8]) for my birthday, but I won't leave you high and dry. I think I can conjure up some snippets based on the notes that I have once I wake up.

>>Please select an interlude:
>Master Aure's Mission to Secure Mylar.
>Master Larid's Journey to Coruscant.
>Youngling Short stories.

[VOTE OPEN FOR SIX HOURS]

>>4242630
Yep, looks like. Could just be me being an idiot though.

>>4242632
Happy birthday man, hope you have a good one!

>>4242632
Happy birthday Kaz!
>>Master Larid's Journey to Coruscant.

>>4242632
>Master Larid's Journey to Coruscant.
More adventures inside the mind of a madman.

And happy birthday Kaz, maybe YHVH will gift you with SMTV news.

>>4242632
>Master Larid's Journey to Coruscant.
Why yes I want to see stealth master in action.
Also have a happy birthday QM.

>>4242632
>Master Larid's Journey to Coruscant.

How many senator’s daughters did he seduce this trip?

>>4242632
Oh, shit, happy birthday OP!

>>4242645
The real question is whether or not that they all know they're fucking the same man.

>>4242632
>>Master Larid's Journey to Coruscant.

>>4242632
>>Youngling Short stories.

>>4242632
>Youngling Short stories.
Larid's face when the younglings start talking about what Kreia told them.

>>4242632
>Master Aure's Mission to Secure Mylar.
I want to learn more about our fledgeling stratocracy.

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>4242632
1- Master Aure's Mission to Secure Mylar.
2- Master Larid's Journey to Coruscant.
3- Youngling Short stories.

>>4242632
>Master Aure's Mission to Secure Mylar.

>>4242632
>>Youngling Short stories.

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>>4242642
>>4242643
>>4242644
>>4242645
>>4242662

>>Jedi Temple, Coruscant

There was hardly a time when Larid thought that Coruscant didn’t stink. In both the literal and metaphorical sense, the ecumenopolis was an absolute cesspit for something supposed to be the capital of law and order. The dirt he had on dozens of Senators would see them permanently disgraced, jailed or executed should they come to light. And for all the veneer of cleanliness and order the upper levels tried to present, the lower levels held a history that couldn’t be completely swept under the rug.

The number of gangs waging war for control over the underworld couldn’t be counted on a single hand. The lower levels gathered the planet’s refuse, the trash discarded by the elite and the literal scoundrels alike, promising thrills and power should one have the means to seize it. Other planets certainly had it worse. Taris and Nar-Shaddaa certainly come to mind, what with the Rakghouls and Nekghouls on the former, and the extreme poverty on the latter.

But no matter how many times Larid had to descend into the lower levels, he never felt quite as clean afterwards. He’d done things, things that would make other Jedi call for his explusion, and bounty hunters blush in order to safeguard the Republic, things that he hadn’t been proud of but were necessary to perform. It still weighed heavily on his heart, that at the Jedi’s doorstep, a festering corruption lay beneath the façade of civility and order.

Maybe if they took care to policing their own backyard, things might have gone differently.

But, he digressed. Coruscant smelled like shit in every possible way, but even in his wildest fever dreams did he think to smell burning corpses at the highest levels.

Undignified as it was, the Clones had at least gone to the trouble of disposing of their leaders’ remains in a way with keeping with Jedi traditions. He couldn’t count how many bodies had been tossed upon the pyre. More than a hundred...maybe even a thousand if he included Younglings. Maybe this was only the latest batch the Clones had decided to burn.

It was a struggle to keep his anger in check. Nearly ten thousand Jedi had lived, breathed and trained in that Temple, good men and women that he’d never see again, children denied of a bright and promising future as protectors of the galaxy. Their stronghold, a smoking and plundered ruin...

As per keeping with the traditions of the Jedi Shadow, Master Brethon Larid did not exist within the archives of the Temple. Still, he’d taken precautions. He’d shaved his head, loping off the thick mane that he’d grown during his sabbatical with the Younglings. The clothes on his back were more in line with a traveling businessman.

Here, he was simply another face in the crowd that had gathered for the funeral of the Jedi, hundreds that stood before the entrance of the temple as the legacy of the Jedi Order and the Republic burned before their eyes.

(cont.)

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“I can’t believe the Jedi tried to overthrow the government!” a bystander whispered in disbelief, “I think they were the ones who were betrayed-”

His companion was quick to silence him, fearful as a pair of Clones completed a patrol around the perimeter. “Quiet, friend! These days, talk like that could land you in jail...”

Those were one of the kinder among the crowd. They were heavily outnumbered by the detractors, who murmured that the Jedi were traitors. And that they deserved everything that they had gotten. Idly, Larid observed that the scathing sentiments were held more often than not by his fellow humans...

What had happened to the Republic since his unwitting departure to the Unknown Regions? He’d heard of the new security measures put in place by the Chancellor, citing a need for safety and security against Separatist infiltrators at the cost of some privacy and rights. It was a measure that he reluctantly approved of. The last thing anybody wanted was another Cad Bane or Aurra Sing easily slipping through the gaps.

He had a terrible feeling in his gut, but he didn’t want to think about it, let alone voice it. Not until he had more proof. As it was, the sight before him was like a sword to the heart. He’d failed in his duties as a Jedi Shadow, failed in the worst possible way...the Sith had returned, and cast a dark pallor across Coruscant and the entire galaxy.

A voice cut through his maudlin thoughts, and the dull roar of the crowd: “People of the Republic!”

It was a Jedi! Not one that he recognized. The fool stood at the forefront of the crowd, waving his lightsaber in an attempt to rile up the crowd. The Clones, too busy watching the pyre burn, had only just noticed, and were barking orders to the rest of their squad to gather.

“The Jedi were your protectors!” he implored to the indifferent crowd. Some were sneering, others horrified, still more indifferent and trying to get away before the shooting started. “They, like you, have been the victims of a corrupt government! Will you stand idly by and allow your freedoms to be taken from you?”

With a snap-hiss, the nameless Jedi ignited his lightsaber, roaring, “Or will you fight?! And my fellow Jedi – I know that some of you are here, in this crowd! I call on you to help me!”

The Jedi’s eyes swept across the mass of people, and for a cold moment, Larid thought that their eyes had met. He quickly looked away, mostly acting the part of a meek business man far too out of his league at the current events unfolding. As for the rest of the crowd...he saw several familiar faces that looked equally disturbed.

Don’t be so stupid to follow him, he thought grimly, I still have a need for Jedi...

“Let us find justice!” the idiot finished, turning to face the Clones, who now saw him for the threat that he possessed and brought their blasters to bear. “For our brother and sister Jedi!”

(cont.)

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Futile as it was, it took every ounce of self-control to not stop the idiot in his vain, self-aggrandizing charge against the Clones. It wasn’t even a battle. He’d only killed one of the Clones before the rest surrounded him. They emptied the clips of their blasters, shooting the corpse until they were absolutely certain that they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the Jedi was dead.

Larid grit his teeth to the point where it nearly hurt as the Clones dragged his body and dumped it with the rest of the pile. Within seconds, the idealistic Jedi had become another shapeless, burning mass on the pyre.

What a stupid, fucking waste...

Fool as he might have been, there was one thing he had been right about. Larid counted five individuals in the crowd who only could have been Jedi. Even if all six of them had gone to help, nothing would have changed. They would only have slaughtered a squad before the entirety of the garrison fell upon them. And if not the garrison, then the entire military of Coruscant and the Sith Lords themselves...

But of those five, only three were able to meet his eyes.

As the crowd dispersed, Larid made a discrete ploy to follow the pair that had caught his eye. The large Bonthan could only have been Kai Hudorra. And the shrinking violet of a girl beside him had to be padawan. The bad haircut just barely managed to hide her gender from the rest of the crowd.

The Shadow frowned as the pair became engrossed in their discussion. Hudorra said something. The padawan presented her lightsaber. To both the girl’s and Larid’s shock, the Bonthan threw both lightsabers into a nearby trash compactor.

Even as the apprentice looked aghast at her master, he placed her hands upon her shoulders, muttering something low in her ears. The mouths of aliens were harder to read, but Larid didn’t have to try too hard to guess what he was trying to tell her. The fact that the Bonthan had produced a pouch of coins and placed it within the girl’s hands ended any speculation.

Run away and forget everything you’ve learned. Forget about your life in the temple, forget everything about the Force...forget about being a Jedi.

Downtrodden and dejected, the girl bid her master a final, forlorn look before she disappeared into the crowd. Larid took note of her appearance, the bad haircut, the large backpack upon her shoulders...easy enough to find again after a short discussion with her master.

The owner of the third pair of eyes came just as Larid did, exhaling roughly as he joined the Bonthan besides the compactor. With one arm in a sling, he tugged the back of his silvered hair with his good hand. “That was a hard thing you just did, Kai Hudorra.”

“A necessary thing, Dass Jennir,” the Bonthan refuted, raising a hand as Larid approached, “...Brethon, old friend.”

(cont.)

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Dass Jennir...Larid knew of the man, but had never met him formally. He’d heard the rumors, of course. A poor connection to the Force, utterly average in every respect...but Jennir had a talent for controlling a battlefield, molding the situation so that his opponents were forced to fight on his terms, not theirs. Some had speculated that he’d never amount to anything, but you recall that he made Master, even general of his own contingent of Clone troopers.

The two humans sized each other up, nodding in acknowledgement. Greetings were relatively unnecessary. All the Jedi were kin to each other.

“Kai, I’m glad to see you safe.” To the silver-haired human, Larid pointed towards his arm. “Are you alright, Jennir?”

“Sprained. Nothing a few days of rest won’t be able to heal...” the human exhaled. “Both of you returned to Coruscant, even though the beacon warns Jedi to stay away?”

“I didn’t know,” defended Hudorra, “I had to dispose of our comlinks. And yet you’re here-”

“Seeking counsel, the same as you-”

“And I have unfinished business here left to perform,” Larid answered darkly. At the looks of horror they both gave him, he waved them off, adding, “I forgot to take my apprentice’s stuffed animal with me last time I was here. I have to go get it for him, or else he won’t be able to sleep properly.”

Jennir looked at him agog, but Hudorra let out a wheezing, dry laugh. “I’ve forgotten about your sense of humor, old friend. How is your padawan?”

“Alive and well, last time I saw him,” he answered, electing to keep secret the greater details of their escape. “We didn’t have any Clones with us.”

“How fortuitous...” To Jennir, the Bonthan addressed, “And I would counsel you to dispose of the lightsaber hidden within your sling.”

The Shadow’s face tightened. What was his friend saying? Between this and his actions towards his padawan...this was not the same Kai that he’d grown up alongside with.

Jennir, to his credit, remained impassive. “Perhaps I will one day, when I no longer need it.”

“You aren’t planning to attack the troops at the temple, are you?”

“I wouldn’t throw my life away so hastily...or vainly, for that matter...” the human intoned dryly, “But neither am I done fighting for the principles upon which the Republic was based.”

Larid had already a positive view of the man, but Jennir’s words gave him heart that his spirit had not been broken. “As am I. Both of you...I could use your help.” His fellow human looked perplexed, and Hudorra looked troubled. “I’ve got myself a dozen younglings in need of masters. Hidden away safely, far beyond where both the Stih and this Empire won’t reach them. I could not even begin to describe the great need I have for teachers.”

(cont.)

>>4242632
Happy Birthday Kaz. Mine was a few days ago.

>>4242632
Oh shit, happy birthday, mine’s in a bit

>>4243610
Happy Birthday nigga.

>>4243619
You too have a Happy Birthday.

Happy birthday Ka-
>Cad Bane
never mind.

>>4243610
Happy birthday
>>4243628
Thanks dude, there’s something weirdly nice about random strangers wishing you a happy birthday

>>4243142
>just finished exams
>gf turns out negative for kungflu
>both got our stimulus checks
>Kaz is back with best Star Wars Quest

This has been the best damn day of my life so far. Happy to have you back Kaz

>>4242632
Since I forgot to say so earlier.

Happy Birthday Kaz!

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>>4243142
Professionalism tempered his excitement, but he refrained from the bigger details. Not out in the open where there were eyes and ears everywhere. His voice was already low, but already, he was planning where best to fit them. Farren would bring back Kosa and her apprentice from the hellhole of Kakarit. Aure needed some convincing in regards to her padawan’s current state...and if the Cathar survived his trial...

At the tip of his fingers, Larid had nine potential Jedi Knights and Masters between twelve potential padawans...thirteen when he’d track down the girl Kai had sent away. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a replacement crystal-

“No.” Hudorra’s blunt refusal brought his thoughts to a screeching, violent halt. The Bonthan’s face was tired and weary beyond the silver of his mane, but his voice remained firm. “My friend, I am finished with war. I cannot accept your offer.”

Surprised as he was, Jennir at least had the courtesy to hold his silence. Not so much with Larid. The Shadow’s thoughts first went to confusion, then to frustration, comprehension, understanding...and a broiling fury he was barely able to reign in.

“...I’m sorry,” he apologized in a tone stiff and clipped, “Can you repeat yourself?”

Hurodda gave him a pitying look, one he had always detested from the elder Jedi. “You’re not so old as to be going hard of hearing. But, I will tell you what I told the girl. Our future, if we are to have one, depends on us to survive. But we must go to ground – hide our abilities, hide our beliefs, and await a new hope for the day that the Jedi Order can be reborn.”

Reborn?!

Even the general found what the Bonthan had said to be somewhat troubling. But between the horrific tragedies he’d seen and felt on that day, and when he’d awoken on Mylar-3, Larid...was far from himself. The passerby around them paid them little attention, thinking them to be business partners having a disagreement. Thus, he allowed a fraction of the rage to slip out.

“The Jedi Order is not dead,” he hissed. “We are proof of it! I need you! I need masters to train the next generation of Jedi as we weather out this storm-"

“And were I in your robes, I would do the same to your Younglings as I did to her.” The Bothan’s face was grave and serious. “There is nothing we can offer them beyond a lifetime of misery and pain should we continue to guide them along as if nothing had happened.”

“There isn’t any way you could know that,” Larid snapped, staring in the direction the girl had disappeared into. It hadn’t been more than a few minutes. It would be an easy exercise to find her, offer a ride back to Mylar-3-

“You will not chase after Noirah.” Hudorra’s expression was fierce. “If you take a single step in her direction, then I will act accordingly. Master Simms will not have died to protect her padawan only for you to return to that path, Brethon.”

(cont.)

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>>4245232
“What gives you the right, you coward,” the Shadow hissed, his fist nearly tight enough to pierce the flesh of his palm, “You swore an oath to the Republic!”

“And the Republic is dead,” he refuted quietly, “They reveled in our deaths before they became this Empire. And now that we are being hunted down like animals, can you guarantee the safety of your refuge against the fearsome might of the Empire?”

“You would hand the galaxy over to the Sith without putting up a fight?” Jennir interjected.

“With what?” Hurodda gestured helplessly back towards the temple, to where the pillar of smoke continued to burn high into the skies of Coruscant. “What could we bring to bear against the Sith and their Clone Army? My brothers, please. The order is naught but ashes scattered to the wind-”

“The order is not gone!” the Shadow nearly roared. “We still stand. My padawan and his friends are still alive. I have twelve Younglings hidden away safely that would be the foundation upon which our Order continues-”

“Our Order...” the Bonthan chuckled humorlessly, “...not, ‘your Order?’ You seem to have seized great authority in the vacuum left by the First Council, Brethon. I’ve not forgotten our youth, and the things you said when you returned from the Outer Rim with a broken mind-”

A pained smile. Blood on the stones. A night of fire. Darkness and madness...

“...not your fault, Ari...not...your...”

Red spilled from the edge of his vision. The Shadow reared as if to strike at the one who reminded him of the worst day in his wretched life. “You would dare-?”

They were saved from disaster by Jennir, interposing himself between the two of them. “Cease, both of you! We are already divided without coming to each other’s throats. Stop antagonizing each other. It’s clear that you aren’t going to agree on anything. I don’t know what bad blood you have between the two of you, but that’s enough!”

Hurodda, bastard that he was, remained impassive and sympathetic as Larid struggled to regain control of his temper. Jennir turned to him, asking, “If you aren’t going to fight, Master Hudorra, then what are you going to do?”

His eyes twinkled with a mirthless amusement. “Master Giett once remarked that an individual skilled in the Force could make a comfortable living as a gambler.”

Larid’s emotions were still a hurricane. He barely had the urge to snort, let alone chastise his old ‘friend’ for wasting his talents. A gambler? Decades spent mastering the Force, attuning themselves to the Light Side...and using it to win cards and slots.

“...fine. Fine!” Laird had to resist the urge to spit as the pair's attention returned back to him. “Out of respect for the Jedi you once were, I’ll leave the girl be. Get out of my sight, card hustler. I hope you enjoy your ill-gained riches.”

(cont.)

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To his supreme irritation, the ghost of what might have been a smile tugged at Hudorra’s mouth. “That’s all I could ever wish for. But should the order rise from the ashes, then I will once again take up my lightsaber. Until then, the galaxy will have to get along without my sword.”

With a bow to both of them, he departed with a farewell, “May the Force be with you, Dass Jennir, Brethon Larid...”

...bastard. Larid could only imagine the expression on his face as he watched the Bonthan disappear into the crowd. Turning to the remaining Jedi, he gruffly said, “...thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” came the reply. “It’s been a rough two weeks for all of us.”

“...you said you intend to fight. Then-”

Jennir shook his head. “I’m afraid I’m already committed elsewhere. Had I not been, I would have accepted your offer in a swift instant.”

Someone was screwing with Brethon Larid. There couldn’t have been any other explanation. Someone, somewhere, somehow, had enough power to influence reality to rip three Jedi away from him when he needed them the most. Three Jedi that, for all he knew, would be dead in a few month’s time.

“...I don’t suppose I can ask about the promise?” he asked brusquely. A promise so important that it overruled the preservation of the Jedi Order...but that thought went unvoiced.

Jennir nodded. “New Plympto. Separatist world. I owe the Nosaurian’s a debt of gratitude for taking me in after my Clones turned on me. I can’t go off in good conscience and abandon them to the tender ‘mercies’ of the Empire.”

A just and noble cause, befitting of a Jedi. Damn him, but Larid couldn’t hate the man for his reason. Still, even if he didn’t know the exact logistics of the respective forces and the strengths they brought to bear against each other, the Shadow could make a cold, logical guess as to the outcome of that altercation.

“...you know that’s a battlefront you’re going to lose,” he warned.

“...I won’t know until I try,” answered the general.

“New Plympto is in the Core Worlds. The second the Empire consolidates, they’ll crush your resistance with nothing short of extreme prejudice.”

He hid his insecurities well. But his voice was filled with determination, as he repeated, “...I still have to try.”

There was no reasoning. With an irritated huff, Larid gave his benediction, if not his approval. “Then may the Force be with you, Dass Jennir.”

“I certainly hope so.” Turning back towards the Temple, the general frowned. “...you weren’t serious about the stuffed animal, were you?”

“Deadly,” the Shadow answered.

“...how old is your padawan?”

“Twenty-five galactic standard.” At the bemused look Jennir threw his way, Larid shrugged, suddenly in a better mood than he was before. “That, and I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I didn’t bring my Younglings back some homework.”

(cont.)

>>4245327
Hudorra is a fool and a testament as to why the old order died,his conviction that the order will be reborn is foolish,by who will it be reborn if everyone abandons it,jennirs goal is noble yet it is stupid given where the planet is located, i hope he changes his mind yet i know that will not happen given the normal jedi mindset

>>4245327
this is the on-screen Jedi competency curse. the more Jedi are on-screen at any given moment, the more incompetent and stupid they will appear. conversely, a single jedi will always be operating a heroic capacity, or even more than that.

>>4245327
>But should the order rise from the ashes, then I will once again take up my lightsaber.
Oh fuck off you sanctimonious prick.

>>4245428
man i hope our master picks up that padawan,because fuck hurodda

>>4245428
>>4245443
Yeah it's one thing to choose to go into hiding and not fight but don't straight up tell someone that you're totally gonna protect a defenseless padawan (And I'm saying defenseless because if our ass can't comprehend anything weaponwise outside of a lightsaber what do you think she's capable of) even though you told the kid to get the fuck out and disappear and dropped her sorry ass faster than a pump'n dump you're not making yourself look like the bigger man.
With that being said we are going to need to learn other weapon skills.

>>4245518
Correction, we technically have SOME measure of skill with melee weapons, but my point still stands. Hudorra sent what is a defenseless kid into a city filled with crime and people looking to make a quick buck.

>>4245518
I'm betting that Separatist Commodore might have some fencing skills (which if we combine with force weapon could help us turn into space Errol Flynn), and the clones can teach us how to use that Mando Blaster we got.