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Author Topic: Interludes  (Read 95713 times)
Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 306
Posts: 1659

« Reply #405 on: July 21, 2019, 03:26:32 PM »

The Way it Wasn’t

Chapter 3 - Part 4

The Prophet struck without warning or preamble, the thorn of bladed mental prowess manifested as a fist in the white surrounds of the eldritch plain Odjina’s disembodied mind had created.

But Odjina was ready, his ‘lips’ already humming with the opening bars of his battle song, his very soul trembling to the rhythm of the drums of war.  He ‘blocked’ the strike and kicked back, golden sparks flying as he connected, the Prophet was powerful yes, but he had never faced a Master Singer of the Mak’tor.  

It was Odjina’s one advantage, he held novelty in his strike.  In time to the beat of his essence Odjina launched his attack, raining blows upon the Prophet who staggered backward in astonishment at what he was witnessing – a ghost at best fighting him on the mental plane.

However Odjina well understood his advantage would last only moments, the Prophet would adapt and retaliate, and Odjina could not land a killing or even crippling blow against a truly living being even on this plane.

Pulling back he let the Song lift and fill him as he ‘tensed’ for another barrage.

<Hurry Valens>


It’s head swinging in the opposite direction of its eyes the Killik monster peered through the corridor.

Jorya had never seen such a creature, only heard tails that hyperspace lanes had been ‘seeded’ with cocooned killiks linked via Yammosk tissue to the Vong Overmind controlled by the Prophet – a means of rapidly responding to any event across the entire galaxy.

It seemed to be working.

One bulbous eye looked toward Valens, another looked at her.

The Killik was confused, here was a being its implanted memories told it was a Togruta…yet there was no force presence….heat, bio-energy was there…but not the Force.

Jorya was sore, still mentally and physically drained….but her mother had taught her well.

The moment and enemy hesitated – strike.

Sweeping up Ben’s sabre she swung through the vast creatures leg equivalent even as she lit the blade, the gyroscopic tremors causing her hands to wobble absent the Force.

Steaming hemolymph vaporized as she cut through.  She rolled straight under the now severed ‘foot’ an thrust up, catching the killiks underside and it pulled back into its acid drilled tunnel to escape the attack.

Bobo sparking and crippled slopped down, a vast hole from the other leg through its side, raising its arm it seemed – despite its motion less features to smile

[Run sweetling]

Yellow blazed from the arm into the tunnel the killik had struck from as Jorya did just that.


Another barrage strained his ‘arms’, the co-ordination and precision was incredible only twice before had the Prophet seen it’s like.

Yet the Prophet well knew this was a stalling tactic…yet to the Prophets frustration it was succeeding.

Odjina felt his power depleting, power he could not easily recover, lacking true life.

Even so, while he had voice, while he had the song…he would not cease.


“Time is short…” Valens continued supressing the fatigue as best he could

“…the Prophet grows stronger every day, there is no time to prepare, I have the means to defeat him now…I will not have it for long,”

The sun cast a dim light as it set out to sea, the shadows lengthened as the weight of reality dragged Luke’s stomach down…he had come here after the defeat at Sullust to train, to gain enough strength and knowledge…but perhaps subconsciously he was hiding as Yoda had on Dagobah, as Obi-Wan had on Tatooine…

No he would not do that, the Aethan was correct, it was now or never.

“Where?” the word heavy with the acceptance of the offer.

“Where Our Master died, I’ll be waiting,” Valens finished with mental ‘nod’ of respect for the war weary warrior.


Rising and falling with the tune of the universe Odjina moved like mercury around the Prophet who stood an unmoving mountain different to loss of the few pebbles the Mak’Tor could dislodge.

The Prophet understood now, how this strange phantom could combat him by guiding the Force into a perfect harmony, to ebb and flow with natural pulses in the Force.

And having learnt this, this Phantom no longer needed to Live.

Pulling on the Life that he nurtured and fed him in return he poured energy back onto the Twi’lek.

Odjina reeled flung back, the Gazebo vanishing as he lost energy even to sustain that simple fixing point.  

He could not recover, there was no second wind for a ghost trapped in a crystal…

The Prophet ‘walked’ toward him, victory etched on his handsome features.

“Re-join the Living For…”

Black as midnight a stream struck the side of the Prophets face, in the amniotic sac he writhed in pain, sending the symbionts that crowded his body sloshing away for a moment.

A ‘hand’ reached out to Odjina, the hand that had killed him and so many he loved in times past.

“We need to leave now,” Valens said as Odjina grasped back.

Rising with the bitter taste of ‘blood’ in his mouth he Prophet unleashed a torrent of energy at the pair enough to kill a world.


Whether Valens had succeeded or not Jorya couldn’t wait.

Blue arcs bounced off the invisible null field around her as the whole planet shook dislodging dust and causing the obelisks to wobble.

Valens stood in the centre blazing with blue light.  His body seized up, arms dropping to his side.

Then he collapsed.

A retching shriek resounded as the far wall began to push inward.

Skidding to the ground Jorya grasped Valens head instinctively checking for a pulse.
There was none.

Defeat filled her heart, she had no love for the Aethans but at least he had offered her a chance to fight again…if only for a little time.

The wall bust inwards, another of the Killiks endless number of blade tipped limbs poking through, thin hairs on the end seeking to analyse the chamber with their unnatural warbling.

unnatural….he’s not human…he might not even have a pulse to check!

Without the Force, without a knowledge of Aethan biology she didn’t know if he was alive or dead.

Choosing hope she tried to lift him up, 320 kilo’s of Aethan flesh and bone proving too much.

With a frown she tore off the necklace Bobo had given her, hurling it at the Killiks leg which darted back into the tunnel away from the null field.

The Force flooding her again she filled her body with its strength enough to lift the unnaturally heavy body up on her shoulders as he had her on Oros.

Yet so too as she beset once more with the droning of the Prophets touch in the Force, a building static that itched in her head.

The legs reappeared the bulbous eyes gleaming in the half light as the Killik looked in at her – the threat of imminent death enough for her to push through the static Vongforce for now.

Her knees and thighs pained beyond belief as she tried to run Jorya hurled Ben’s sabre with her mind backward like a spear straight at the eye.

With a hissing plop it struck the oversized creature before she summoned it back passing Bobo’s ruined frame.

With a near ear shattering shriek the Killik burst fully into the Obelisk chamber, if full horrendous form now clear.  Over half the height of the Obelisks it had at least twelve ‘legs’ numerous smaller appendages with bladed ‘fingers’ a gapsing hissing maw and eyes and sensory hairs all along its carapace that was crawling with Vong Voduun crabs and thud bugs.

Sighting the only living things it charged on its ten remaining legs toward her, crashing through the door way and scrunching the sides of the corridor as she ran.

Rubble and dust erupted at every side as she raced toward the far end where the Aethan ship sat a faint blue glow of the readied engines beneath.

The buzz of thud bugs filled her head as they whipped forward in advance of the charging beast, sabre in hand she swatted some back but was struck painfully by more – drawing on the Force more and more to dim the pain at the cost she well knew of utter exhaustion if she survived.

Each step was walking on fire, each breath she gasped like suckling lava, cus from the collapsing tunnel nicked and sliced her face an lekku, the Killik got closer and closer its shriek filling her ears, eyes and lungs with reverberations.

A flash of danger sense sharper – of only just – than the abject terror she felt had her swerve to the left to avoid the downward thrust of on of the bladed limbs into and through the floor, then another, then another – like a training course she dodged the tree thick chitin blades that sought to impale her as she reached the threshold to the hangar, the boarding ramp down she threw Valens body onto it with all the force she could muster then turned to feel the wet blast of the Killiks scream.

“ARRRGHHH!” she screamed back into the dark green maw, the aqua-blue of Bens sabre lighting the gap as her legs now relived of the burden of Valens felt light as a feather and pushed her up into a leap.

Dodging three bladed swipes she followed through tot slice her sabre through the edges of its open mouth, hemolymph spraying all over her as she landed, amazed at the suicidal insanity of what she had just done.

Racing up the ramp she hit the button with the force causing it to rise Valens body flopping inside as she headed to the bridge.

The Killik would not be distracted for long, fortunately the Destroyer was not huge, and the Force sped her way.  But even as she reached the ready room she felt the ship rock as the Killik struck it – another shriek no doubt it learned then that Blackstone was not so yielding to its strength as the planets rock.

The bridge was designed for a minimal crew consistent with the Aethans low numbers, the only issue Jorya had was knowing was to press first, the layout seemed similar but the shades of blue of the buttons were not that distinct to her eyes.

Another slam on the hull forced her hand, slamming forward every lever and hoping the Force would guide her hand in the buttons she slammed.

With a retched the ship burst forward through the tunnel – straight toward a Killik ship entering.  

Her curse trailed off as the destroyer slammed head first into the vessel crawling with insects on its hull.  
Blackstone screeched into chitin, ichor dripping as Killiks leapt across to the vessel their Hive mind demanded they capture.

Jorya lurched forward at the sudden deceleration slamming her forehead painfully on the console before her, gasping in air she realised she’d forgotten to put on her breather – the natural air Aethan’s preferred was toxic to her with prolonged exposure.

There was not time, the view screen showed nothing ahead by writhing dark green’s of the inside of the Killik vessel as warning lights blinked and sirens screeched, the Renewal’s engine pushing ahead despite being in another ship.    

Pushing up she coughed out a glob of black blood, hands reaching for the controls gripping onto the control stick, fingering the trigger…why not…

Pulling the trigger unleashed the energy sheathed gauss cannons, phirk projectiles ripping the Killik ship from the inside out at such close range as Jorya pulled herself up struggling for breath.

Force guiding her actions she slammed what seemed to be the accelerator forward, grinding the blackstone against the chitin creaking it what seemed like inch by inch through.  Another explosion of what she hoped was the Killik ship drive core rocked the Renewal even more and caused the view screen to flicker and die.  

Something wet ran down her face, she’d lost all sense of her body, but suspected she’d sustained a significant cut to her forehead. The ship warbled and screeched, anaesthetising effects of her adrenaline fuelled rush from the Obelisk room wearing off, the droning in her head becoming the clicking chorus of Killik life signals.

Her breath was ragged, she could feel scars from the slave seed reopening…somewhere ahead was a faint blue light, two figures through the blood, one tall and broad, the other small and lithe, a soft tune like a lullaby she knew yet couldn’t remember cutting through the harsh hissing and pop of the Vongforce.

Beside them another tall but thin figure she knew so well, she had loved so much…they were there to welcome her back…surely now it was time…after escaping so narrowly on Sullust, M’Tzigon, Sekot, Oros, a dozen worlds she couldn’t remember….surely now…

Not yet dear one, not yet,

For the hundredth time she pushed through the pain to rise up again, the blue light merely a sparking cable on exposed Chiss circuitry.  Taking up her ripped clothes she quickly bandaged her head as she looked on the last console, whispers of the Aether that had not been there before informing her of the function.

She punched in quick instructions and ran through the collapsing corridors shrieks of metal as the Killiks wound through, chitin daggers of limbs flying through the walls as she scooped up Valens body once more, Move he would probably say and so she did lungs burining to the hangar.

The doors ahead were being pried open by vast insectoid limbs. Let them…Let them she thought as she dropped the heavy Aethan body and flopped into the assault transports cockpit. The Aether infused controls acting as a kind of auto pilot her fingers swept through the power up procedures as the bay doors were final rent open, the air spewing out into the void as hordes of killiks poured in surrounded by Vong bugs.

A grimace she pulled the trigger to fire two shikkar torpedoes straight ahead then punched the accelerator.  

The blackstone missiles effortlessly tore through the enormous killik that had opened the doors spraying ichor all over its fellows as drove the ship straight thorough the bisected corpse and into the tunnel.

The larger killik vessel and the Renewal lay shattered in the tunnel as the killiks swarmed out, and smaller vessels flooded in. She wove against the tide , firing when she could as something even stronger than the Prophets droning mutilation of the Force burst into her head.

Crossing the threshold of the small planet the self-destruct Valens had set up was triggered, three naqudah enhanced Nova bombs rushing violet energy through the facility even as Jorya’s instructions to the Renewal took effect, the vessel attempting to jump into hyperspace in the tunnel, drives blasting energy as it ground through the chitin and rock before it was struck by the Nova wave.

As Jorya blindly jumped to hyperspace the last Aethan planet was destroyed in a fire of blue and violet.



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

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Knight Commander

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Posts: 5594

Light side points please.

« Reply #406 on: July 23, 2019, 12:26:45 PM »


I love the idea that the Vong's version of the force is overtaking and replacing the normal version.   :-)  And that this is bad.   Tight narrative and exciting, I can't wait to see more!

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Master Singer of the Mak'Tor

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« Reply #407 on: July 26, 2019, 12:49:41 PM »

Now THIS is how action should be written!  I was on the edge of my (proverbial) seat while Jorya was running from the Killik, all the while carrying Valens...and she was STILL trying to fight off...whatever it is that the Prophet does?!


I have to say that Odjina's "coupling" with Valens is just brilliant; the possibilities are awesome to contemplate!  But, in this case, the former Mak'Tor Kage is perfect as an "angel on Valens' shoulder/liason for Outsiders" to the Aethan.  I could almost hope that this happens in the "Prime" timelime...but I'm glad that we get to see it here  Smiley

And great to see Luke in these stories (even if it is in an "Elseworld/Mirror Universe" capacity).  What is his endgame given the circumstances of the Vong victory?  For that matter: just WHO is the Prophet and WHAT are their plans?


Sig courtesy of DarthScrub

Cataphract Triarch of the Vhal'Dan

My sabers:Zearic's Aldrnari, Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, AS; Zearic's shoto, Apprentice v4 w/Obsidian, AS; Graflex SE w/Obsidian, GB; Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, CG; Dark Sentinel v4 w/Obsidian, BR; Sentinel LE v4 w/Obsidian, GB; Initiate v5 w/Obsidian, AS; Sentinel LE v4 stunt, EG; Aeon LE v4 stunt, FO; Dominix v4 stunt, BR; Aeon v3 stunt, SY

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 306
Posts: 1659

« Reply #408 on: August 04, 2019, 11:56:18 PM »

The Way it Wasn’t
Chapter 4 - Part 1
It was not as it was.

The hut was still there albeit falling apart. The swamps stank of Vong biots slowly changing the atmosphere to increase ammonia and oxygen concertation in a long term process of vong forming.

Like so many other planets Dagobah had been seeded then left to slowly develop, no doubt the world brain was more concerned with managing soil nutrient levels than a single fighter landing in one of the millions of swamps.

Luke had to smile, his Stealth-X lay beneath the waters just in case, size mattering not when it came to raise it back out of the water.

He sat on the log he had spoken to Ben so long ago on just across from the hut. At times he’d wondered what he would’ve of done, how he or Yoda would’ve fought the Vong. Would they have done better?

It didn’t matter, he had done all he could, the New Jedi Order had given all they could, but none of them could’ve predicted, could’ve countered…

A rustle in the distance signalled the approach.

Luke took his time, rising only slowly as the pair came through the gnarled branches.

And there he was, Skywalker, scarred and older than the last time Jorya had seen him in person, however briefly, yet lighter, as if the GA’s final defeat had lifted a weight of impossible worry from him.

Beside her Valens stalked silently. After escaping the Aetheric Antenna Array he had awoken on a transport to the news the Renewal was gone, thankfully he always kept the device he and Odjina were working on his person and his armour and weapons in the transport for just such a quick getaway but still…it was a significant resource to lose.

Even so Jorya had saved his life and done exceptionally well in the circumstances, her body again bearing the cost of the effort.  Stopping at an abandoned coaxium trading post they had scrounged what food they could for her, the Transport containing only Aethan ration bars, and Valens had with some semblance of compassion healed her as best he could.

“Skywalker…” Valens said unclasping his helmet
“Apologies we were delayed,”

He looked younger than Luke, late thirties, and yet in the Force Luke could tell he was much older, centuries at least, possibly millennia, the question of if he really knew Yoda moot, undoubtedly such a being would at some stage over such a long life have encountered the Jedi the only question was the nature of such interaction.

And Luke felt now was not the time to probe into that issue.

“No apology needed, I admit I had difficulty avoiding the spore-flocks…” in the absence of any threat space lanes were now crowded with Vong spores of space native creatures, travelling on solar winds seeking warm systems to incubate in, but still connected to the Vongforce were also probes of a sort.

Valens was marginally impressed by Skywalker, he was as strong as his reputation it seemed, and though showing his age and the scars of a life spent fighting, remained – for a human at least- fit and healthy, the aether flowing with firmness and purpose even accounting for the trauma and grief Skywalker had no doubt endured.

“I am Valens, son of Lyssia, Grandson of Andis,” he said formally before pausing, to continue on the formal greeting …husband of Sofa…Father of……was simply too much
“…Last of the Aethan People and their Goddesses,”

Feeling his discomfort Jorya spoke up
“Jorya Vih’torr, daughter of Zearic and D’Alyanna Maenowan of the Vhal’Dan of the Allied Gray Orders”

Luke nodded, he had gained much respect for the Gray orders during the war, the Mak’Tor had proven valuable healers, scouts and battle co-ordinators, the Vhal’Dan as tenacious –sometimes ruthless - guerrilla fighters, the Templars offering valuable intelligence and front line support.

“Luke Skywalker, Grand Master of the…well myself now,” he tried to inject some humour,
“So, what is your plan?” Luke asked directly.

“The Prophets telepathic powers have grown too strong…the less you know the better,” Valens replied quietly

Luke felt a slight annoyance at being left even further in the dark, but could not fault Valens logic.

Between the two of them Jorya felt slightly out of place – these were Titans, beings who had attained powers and performed feats at another level to anything she, or any Gray she knew could ever achieve…except perhaps…

Karmack should be here…not me…

The bitterness of the thought did not go unnoticed by Odjina, nor the grim irony they now stood allied to his killer.

“Alright, what needs to be done then?”

Valens nodded “The Prophet may be changed, but I’m betting he still has a particular interest in you, we use that to lure him to a battlefield of my choosing, he’ll be there expecting to fight you – I hit him instead,”

“Like you tried on Coruscant,” Luke noted sombrely.

“Like we tried on Coruscant,” Valens replied.


Oblivion rods slammed into damutekts from orbit shattering the coral and shell structures that now dotted the skyline of Yuuzhan'tar in place of the Skyscrapers that had bustled when it had been Coruscant.  Plumes of dust and smoke rose up clouding the already gas mottled sky from incomplete Vongforming.

In an instant 100 Spear tip shaped destroyers exited dark-space dangerously close to the planet or in atmosphere, disgorging 50,000 Dark Trooper Phase V – V for five and ‘Vong’ Adaea had said – and along with them 2000 Aethans, genehanced demi gods, powered by the Aether, armed with weapons and armour of ultradense material that was neither rock nor metal but greater than both.

Valkyrie Orbital Shock Aerial Assault squads shredded air defences, launching arcs of lighting while gliding on their jet packs, covering the DTV’s that indiscriminately killed all non-People life signals, plucking up any Vong foolish enough to step outside and ripping them limb from limb.

A dozen Vorynx Heavy Squads ploughed into the Shapers damuteks and shredded the polyps breeding new Slayers and yammosks to pieces before they could be born.

Gosalam Scout squads picked out targets to teleport nuclear weapons into the old Coruscant under levels then detonate them imploding entire sections of the new Vong capital into irradiated hollows.

Most numerous the Gobril tactical squads focused on annihilating the Vong Garrisons by bringing their damuteks down upon them, undermining the buildings rather than fight one by one, then curb stomping any who struggled out of the cracked corals and shells then hunted Yammosks controlling the slave population, boiling the creatures alive in their own sacs with aetheric heat.

The Oblivion Army in its complete and horrific power was unleashed on what had been Coruscant.

They had chosen this moment when the Vong forces were engaged against the GA at Sullust to strike at the Vongs heart.

The GA would not understand, their limited strategic cognition would consider it a ‘betrayal’ to have abandoned their role spear heading the GA forces.

Yet this was exactly why the Aethans had done it – for nearly three years the Aethans had worked with the GA - the Vong commanders and Yammosks adapting to their strategies - now the Vong expected to find the GA force at Sullust lead by Aethans once more, had planned for that very fact - when they found none their plans would be undermined from the start giving the GA the best chance of victory whilst the Aethans launched a surprise all-out attack on the Prophet himself.

They had told no one of his plan to ensure there could be no leak, indeed only the Elders Guardians who devised the strategy knew of it.  It would burn some bridges for now, but if they succeeded - everything would be forgiven and they would come out of the battle the strongest force in the galaxy.

As the storm of fire continued the only part of the planet not being turned into a battle torn molten slag heap that mirrored Sullust at that very moment was the Citadel of the Supreme Overlord, now the Prophets abode, though to the Vong they were one and the same being now.

Protected by his enormous and growing Force powers the Prophet overlooked the Sacred Precinct from the Citadel, there in the main plaza he saw the true assault force these would be Gods had brought.

Nine Aethans stepped into the plaza, the ground was etched in hideous runes, and in the centre a sacrificial altar jagged and sharp with tentacles writhing to seek its next victim.

These nine were here with a very clear goal, destroy the Prophet and the Dhuryam world brain – they were the strongest of the People, veterans of countless wars, forged in the pain of the Devastation 600 years before as merciless as they were powerful.  

Descending from on high the Prophet spread his newly grafted limbs as he felt the combined Force connection of the Killiks and nascent build-up of the Vong Over-connection fill him.

As the Aethans stepped forward the Slayers, polyp bred to maturity with the genetic memory of the greatest Vong warriors infused into their minds through clones Yammosk tissues that enabled them to touch the Vongforce, stepped from the shadows to surround them 300 strong.  

The People were used to such odds, a few even smirked as the Prophet rose to his full unnatural height before speaking.

“You who say you wish for life and growth, ask yourself why you always find yourself in the midst of death, Join the path of Life”

He extended a ‘hand’ even as he received from his connection to the Yammosks evidence the Aethan soldiers were, when defeated, detonating some kind of self-destruct to keep their own genetic secrets hidden from him…a minor irritation, Life would flourish the Prophet knew.

One Aethan stepped forward.

“You, Prophet, Supreme Overlord, Avatar, whatever you call yourself, I Jarys Son of Lyssia, Gransdon of Andis challenge you – face me in single combat, to the victor the rule over the Yuuzhan Vong Empire!” he shouted

Jarys sister in law shook her head

<It was worth a shot>

The Prophet ignored their offer even as they had ignored his.

As the Slayers stepped forward a red flash lit the sky outshining even the blaze of nuclear explosions littering orbit as the small Vong defence fleet was torn apart.

In blood red armour sheathed in red energy Milaea descended over the altar, tip of her boot barely touching the eager tentacle turning the sacrificial device to dust.

This…the Prophet realized…might not be so straight forward….Another flare in his mind…

Skywalker…at Sullust…he was interfering with the Prophets control…they had planned…no they hadn’t planned at all….the Demi-Gods had played both sides by surprise, sewing confusion yes, but in a way that magnified chaos for the Vong far more than the GA.  

Flanked by her People Milaea looked directly at the creature that now controlled the Vong and Killiks, disgust rising as quickly as her strength as she noted just how little of the Prophets original body was left, Killik and Vong implants first to replace lost limbs and physical damage, and now intentionally to increase his control had turned him into a vile amalgam of bulbous flesh, hardened shell, and reflective chitin.

“You’re rule ends here,” clenching her fists the aura of red energy about her intensified, the aether filling and strengthening her with all the power of the People and their Goddesses…and yet somehow she feared that was still less than the power the Prophet soaked from the Vong, the Killiks…and worse still the countless trillions of yorik-kul seeded slaves on whose power he could draw.

Like two bolts of lightings Prophet and Goddess screeched forward and clashed across every plain of existence, bodies twisting at speeds beyond mortal comprehension, shifting between baryonic and dark-matter states of existence, between physical and Force realms, the metaphysical landscape and time itself churning in a conglomerate of blow and counter blow.

The Prophets entire power and attention on this battle instead of co-ordinating his dhuryams and yammosks, Luke Skywalker felt the slight change in the Vongforce static as he stood on the bridge of the Chimaera beside Gilad Pellaeon.

Luke could feel the tension, the echoes of the distant battle, he had thought like the others the Aethans had fled, the truth was they had taken a drastic gamble to destroy the Prophet and give the GA a chance to retake Sullust in one swift manoeuvre – it was a dangerous move but if they succeeded…this Second Battle of Sullust would turn the tide completely.

“Luke?” Clighal interrupted sensing the tension even above the Prophets distorting droning that screeched like a Ybun eel in the waters of Dac.

“Somethings changed…I need to be closer…Admiral, when I give the signal push as hard as you can forward,”

Pellaeon eyed the Jedi wary as ever, but he knew by now to trust Skywalkers instinct.

As Space time warped around the battle between Prophet and Goddess Skywalker raced to his Stealth-X, Corran waylaying him insisting on flying as his wing mate,

“Not this time Corran…I need you on the surface, keep defensive…well you’ll sense the change,”

Below the conflagration of Gods the Aethan Guardians slew Slayer after Slayer after Slayer, as their forces across the planet killed and killed…and yet the Vong and Killiks kept coming…and coming…they couldn’t go on forever, superhuman though they were, one by one they were taken down by the endless flood of Slayers, Voxyn and then huge twisted experimental Killik beasts the Shapers were creating.

And with each loss Milaea, the embodiment of their Goddesses weakened and weakened – her power came from them, their connection to the Aether as well as her own, each blow she landed, each strike she blocked felt weaker as the Prophet writhed in righteous fury that peaked out above his usual placid demeanour.
For the Prophets power came from drawing on the Force connection of all the reawakened Vong, killiks, and seeded slaves, he was losing hundreds of thousands every second as Skywalker, alone in his dead floating Stealth X, pushed through the miasma of the vongfoce shroud at Sullust.  

But against the trillions more across the galaxy the Prophet could draw on it was irrelevant – more slayers could be bred, coral skippers and Worldships were growing by the hundred across the vong formed systems.  

Dredging his fist out of a Slayers chest Jarys found himself alone, armour and under-suit completely gone in the battle, chest scarred and bloody as he looked to his Daughter slowly but surely being driven to the ground.  Pyramids of Vong bodies two stories high each topped by one of his fallen family members, their armour enchanted back up turning them into blazing molten silhouettes to keep their genetic secrets safe.

Through a waterfall of Vong blood he saw more rushing toward him, felt his Daughter wavering as her strength died with their attack, they had gambled everything on this…the Prophets insect like sharpened limbs pierced through Milaea’s shoulders pinning her to the ground, all the fury he could he sprinted toward her as she bit and stabbed at the unyielding yorik coral of the Prophets chest.  

Thud bugs struck his back, amphistaff venom sizzled on his ultra-keratin skin, he shouldered slayers out of the way like a razor ball player, his last dagger flipped into his hand as he leapt at the Prophets back…

A scorpion like tail rammed through his chest pinning him mid leap, litres of toxins flooding his torso as the Prophets power crushed down as Milaea felt Jarys fade.

“ lost…” she struggled out even as her body, damaged and depleted faded into the aether.

The Prophet wondered if she had meant “I’ve”, “We’ve”…or “You’ve”.


“Your best forces couldn’t defeat him before though…” Luke noted

“I wasn’t there last time…” Valens noted grimly

Luke felt his brow tighten, the question of why both essential, yet seeming not to matter. Finally Luke sighed.

 “It’s all we have, each day we get further behind as is,” he turned back to look upon the ruin of Yoda’s home.

For a long time Luke said nothing, Jorya feeling the weight return to Skywalker’s shoulders, he was going with them, of that there was no question, for there was simply no better option left. It wasn’t fear of the Prophet that held him back, nor of defeat, but of potentially facing who the Prophet had once been.

“Will we survive?” Luke finally asked

“No” Valens answered clearly.

A wry grin across his face creasing the scars he had earned over so many years Luke replied.

“I can live with that.”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 306
Posts: 1659

« Reply #409 on: August 04, 2019, 11:57:38 PM »

The Way it Wasn’t
Chapter 4 - Part 2
What had she done…

Scurrying through the newly formed bowels of fleshy pulsing pink of Yuzzhan'tar, after all her clever words in the end she wanted to live

<I know you do…it is natural>

Her…apprentice?....pawn?...creation? spoke in her mind

<Life seeks to survive and thrive, but it cannot, the cycle of decay to bring forth new Life must continue…>

It, for it was hardly anymore a ‘he’ went on

At first she thought it magnificent, she had achieved her goal, to create something more than Jedi, Sith or even Vong, something that combine and exceeded them all…instead…

Instead he had - in a betrayal that made her somewhat proud – defied her teaching and made his own choices.

Pausing to catch a breath the Battle at the World Brain Replayed in her mind…the bulbous black creature he had nurtured rising up as the Priests intoned the sacred words and the Supreme Overlord looked on…then…

Something she had not expected, could never have predicted, the Prophet struck at the Overlord, the tentacles of the world brain rising his up, in time with his motions lifting him, turning the Vong biotech against those that would oppose him, recycling them into the raw stuff of life.

The Fool, Onimi has surprised her again, attacking with the Force, it mattered not, the Prophet connected to the world brain had done something none could, had found a way to turn vongsense into vongforce…

How…she could only guess it was the constant and deep interaction he had with the Vong that created it – the implacations for the Force were deep – but for now the implications for the galaxy were…

<Implications, you think in meaningless terms Vergere…Life…life is the cause, the effect, the beginning and end…and now your time has come.>

The yorik coral tunnel retched inward, like the bowels of a giant closing over her…she supposed it was true now the world brain was joined Yuuzhan’tar was a single organisms….and as her efforts to telekinetically push the walls away failed, she ended a forgotten viral cell within its bulk.


Odd winds circled up clouds of irradiated dust in the centre of the crater.

Luke Skywalker stood in the very middle of the indent, the edges a good 2 kilometres away.

Bpfaash was an odd choice for Valens plan, not obviously strong in the force – or at least not any more.  All Luke knew of it apart from a feint here by Admiral Thrawn decades ago, was that some centuries past Yoda had lead  Jedi strike force to defeat a dark Jedi cult of some kind. 

Perhaps the obscurity was part of the reasoning, they had no trouble getting here and it gave them time to set a few traps and a few hours at least to ready themselves.

He sat calmly in the centre of the crater, the ruins of vast hab-buildings jutting here and there and rimming the crater – one of several hundred with an odd jagged metal fence.  Luke didn’t even know fighting had taken place here, by the end the Vong had just gone system to system slaving and killing without anyone to keep track or resist. 

He had seen no natives, nor even scavengers, somehow Luke doubted Valens cared for collateral damage
“Something about this place….” He whispered to himself, “…why here…”
Like all Aethans Valens was inscrutable, the Gray Jedi Jorya more open.  Before they left Dagobah she had come up to him.
“Skywalker…” she held out a sabre hilt in her hand
“This is yours.”
It had taken Luke a few moment to recognise it as Bens, again the question of where she had obtained it seeming moot.
His hand had hovered over it, then his fingers clenched
“You keep it, Jorya Vih’Torr, wield it with pride,”
The scarred middle aged Togruta woman nodded respectfully and reclasped it to her belt.
The last thing Luke needed was another reminder of all the family he had lost…coming face to face with the Prophet…that would be more than enough.



The leering mispronounced word echoed as Jorya wondered how many of the Jedi and Gray Orders had died with that ratchet like hiss of Vong excitement in their ears
did mother hear it…did father

It would not be the last thing she heard, spinning under the amphistaff, she drove her – or rather Ben’s – sabre through the voduun shell cauterizing in the crab creatures flesh then the vong abdomen beyond.

Danger sense tingled up her spine….then vanished.

A body dropped beside her that was not one of her kills, Abyss Black arrow neatly cleaving through the eye socket and into the skull, before with a pop of displaced air Valens teleported it back to fire again as he provided ranged cover.

Pushing her blade through the Vong body fully she slammed the top half off with the force before pounding out difficult steps in the deep orange sands of Jakku.

If any world was nowhere it was this one, “Like Tatooine only more dead” was the best that could be said of it.

The Vong outpost here seemed a mere afterthought, and that was why they came. Landing nearby in the Aethan transport she had barely escaped the Aetheric Antenna array in a week before they had attacked the camp atop a rocky Mesa overlooking…well nothing but sand…head on – Jorya in the lead.

Having saved Valens from the Killiks, Jorya felt grudging acknowledgement from him she was, if not fully recovered –even she doubted she ever would be after so long malnourished and slave seeded – at least able to hold her own now.

A cry above on the yorik corral wall was ended by another arrow as she rushed forward to the dust scratched shell dome the commander occupied.

It must’ve been shameful for a warrior to be placed so far from any fighting – not that there was much of that to be had apart from mall pockets of brigands and a few GA battalions in isolated systems – in an ironic way she was giving them the fight they had longed for.

But not, she noted as the Commander in red crab shell wielding two amphistaffs barged out screeching glory to “Yu’Shaa” the Prophet, the death they desired.

E spun quickly, both serpent creatures spitting acid she rolled to avoid, then becoming rigid form him to thrust like spears – one cut into her already chipped armour, the other she deflected as she rose.

He fought well, determined to be among the last Vong to kill a Jeedai – for there were none left but two – his double bladed style reminding her of Jar-Kai that Kye had adopted, a variant on her fathers technique with his sabre and shoto…

Father… she had never found out what happened to him…not conclusively…her mother…she had felt her death…her father blazed briefly thereafter in the force…then nothing – not even the flash of life ending. There had been rumours a few years later of a leader of a guerrilla band operating in the by then occupied Hapes Consortium lead by a broad Jedi with two sabres, but by the time she could try and look into it the rumours had turned to tales of another noble last stand against overwhelming odds.

But he lived…if in no other way through her, so many times she’d trained against both his blades, so many times he’d beaten her, and after so many failures she’d worked out how to win.

The Vong kept one staff solid the other snaking around – she focused on the solid driving at it with quick blows strafing the other as it snapped at her. She knew this game, and how to play it, the Vong traded on his strength and reach – her mother, a svelte an short woman had taught her how to deal with such. As a parried glided with short sparks Jorya pressed in as close as she could, getting in between the Vong’s arms hammering her elbow into the shell, it did little good but moving in close surprised him enough for her catch him off guard, sweeping her foot she couldn’t quite trip him but with a downward slash cut into his wrist.

The Vong showed no expression – pain merely part of life to them – but the loss of function showed.  Dragging up loose rock and shell fragments she hammered at his back with telekinetic projectile, his other hand drove at her – but long limbs needed wide swings up close to get enough power and she took the blow easily – spinning her blade down into the gap in voduun armour just above the knee.

The feeling of striking Vong flesh filled her with a dark glee, and as Gray she didn’t turn from it but used it – she gave into the blood lust just enough, winding back out an spinning as gracefully as she had in her prime to slam her pommel into and through the Vong helmet, then round housing his face with her boot in a motion even Valens was impressed by.


Years ago Luke would’ve been disgusted at this.  Now he took a slight satisfaction.

Jorya and Valens had returned with the last component.  As strong as the Prophet was he was not yet omniscient…but through the grunting Vong they had captured he would see.

Valens was carrying the warrior Jorya had taken on Jakku – they had only needed one, and that one didn’t need legs or hands for what they had to do.  Tearing off the hood Valens pushed it to look at Luke.

Valens dropped it to the ground and Luke gratuitously kicked it
“Knife,” he put out his hand, Valens complied placing an overly heavy oblivion dagger in his hand.

Leaning into the thrust Luke rammed it into the Vong’s chest bringing his face so close he could see his aged hate filled face in the Vong’s eyes, the warrior trying to bite Luke’s nose off.

“I’m here,” he said through the Vong to the Prophet

“I’m waiting,”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 306
Posts: 1659

« Reply #410 on: August 05, 2019, 12:02:58 AM »

The Way it Wasn’t

Chapter 4 - Part 3
Out of the void an armada appeared.

Three Koros Strohna World ships, a dozen Killik Destroyers almost as large, Bpfaash had not seen such a force in all its history.

As soon as they exited Valens staring up at the blue sky now dotted with the blurring whorls of the worldships clenched his fist.

The aether infused controls of his last ship engaged and jumped to dark space slamming into the largest of the organically grown Koros Strohna, a brief blue blaze erupting – not enough to destroy such a vast vessel, but there was a non-zero chance of getting the Prophet.

The buzzing static of the Prophets presences only intensified, Valens shrugged indifferent, his ship destroyed to no purpose but a few thousand slaves most like.  It didn’t matter he had no intention of leaving this planet.

Luke remained in the crater, the Vong body before him, Jorya slipped on the edge in the rusted ruins ready to strike, all waiting. 

First they waited to see if the Prophet simply bombarded the planet.

He did not.  Valens had been right, the Prophet wanted to do this face to face – the motives could be guessed at – desire for personal glory, familial bond, but all that really mattered was it was here.

Second they waited to see what force arrived.  Would the Prophet simply send an army of Killiks or Slayers.

Instead the sky lit with the rainbow wings of the Overlords ship, butterfly like and beautiful Jorya thought.  There was, at times a beauty to the Vong biotech beyond the muddy greens and browns, functional pitted shell and coral…but it was few and far between.

The ship blew up the dust of the crater as Luke stood, he had not opened his eyes or moved from his meditation since he had spoken into the Vong baits eyes.

As the dust settled he stood.

A vile retch like sound from the coral vessel signaled its opening.

Vong warrior poured from a sphincter like muscled mouth behind, their armour covered in the skulls of their victims, all races of the galaxy united among the Vong trophy racks.  Some had been coated in gold indicating an enemy of great worth or honour, likely Jedi or Gray, perhaps few Sith and likely a few non-force users too, he had heard Pellaeons skull adorned Nas Choka’s right shoulder.

They stood in parade lines as the Prophet exited and Luke saw Him[/]I in the flesh for the first time since….


Luke felt ill.

The Prophet was now nearly four metres tall, gliding on insect like legs, wings folded behind him, his face partially visible blown up to ridiculous proportions, the skull lengthening backward into a shell like body covered in dozens of limbs.

The rumours of what the Shapers had done to his body after Myrkr, and what he had done to himself after a dozen assassination attempts that left him wounded but alive, could never have prepared him to see this a twisted abomination.

But Luke had been here before, looking on the emotionless mask of Vader, knowing there was still something of who he had been behind it.

Luke felt the lump in his throat as the Prophet approached.

Passing his guards the Prophet’s vast shadow covered Luke completely.

“Have you at last seen the truth…” the Prophet asked offering radank claw hand.

“…do you wish to join the path of Life,”

The words barely came, so often he had though of what he would say, but nothing seemed to fit, nothing seemed enough.

“…this isn’t you, what you’ve done, whatever you’ve felt, this slavery, destruction is not the path of life,”

The Prophet shook his head at Skywalker’s foolishness and nostalgia to use his former name

“There is no slavery in service of life, no destruction but recycling into the great flow of life, you know this,”

“I know there is balance, in life, in death, but not like this, this is life without purpose but itself, constrained, controlled, no diversity, no choice no chance for joy…”

“To be alive is enough,” the Prophet countered “To proliferate Life what greater purpose,”

“To LIVE your life, that purpose to see and do more than just reproduce, to….”

There was no emotion on the oversized face, no hint of anything Luke could recognize anymore…yet even so…for all the Prophet once was…

“You wish to kill me Luke Skywalker…” the Prophet said the buzz in the force growing

“You wished to look on me and know…now you see…”

Rising to his full height the Prophet stretched out all his limbs exposing his still well armoured body

“You cannot kill me Uncle, cannot even raise your weapon against me,” Yu'Shaa said with a serene smile

“You’re right Anakin,” His hand dropped sabre still unlit

“I can’t kill the last of my family…however twisted” Luke closed his eyes a thin tear squeezing out

“That’s why I brought him…”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 306
Posts: 1659

« Reply #411 on: August 05, 2019, 12:03:43 AM »

The Way it Wasn’t

Chapter 4 - Part 4

It began on Yavin.
Or perhaps it was before then…
Perhaps it was on Sernpidal, with Chewbacca, Ithor with Daeshara'cor – wishing to preserve both lives yet knowing it was not possible.  Or was it Centre Point Station…he held such power to end life in his hands but Jacen told him not to fire…in the end Thrackan did it for him and more died as a result – he hated Jacen for that, for making him wait, but now he understood that event more fully.

Yes, Yavin was where he was conceived most fully – when Vua Rapuung the disgraced Vong warrior saved his life, helped him save Tahiri, there was something in the simplicity of the warrior words and thoughts.

We will kill together, embrace pain together, embrace death together if such is Yun-Yuuzhan's wish.

They had argued when he killed the slaved one Qu’a to take his vangaak to continue their journey, stilted conversations that left neither satisfied and yet etched questions and worried in his mind. Then in the caverns beneath the damuteks he had first felt that there was something of life in in the Vong, using a Lambent crystal to repair his sabre created the Vongsense, created the bridge between life he did not recognise at the time.

He had continued in ignorance until Myrkr…there his goal to kill, to end life, was shaken when Jacen was killed – in the Grashal Anakin Solo had wanted to remain behind to cover the escape as the Voxyn and warriors pursued the failing mission – but Jacen stepped in…

Jacen who had so often preached the need to try and find peaceful life affirming resolutions, had forsaken using the Force, the energy of Life out of fear he could not do so responsibility….He who was best among them though Anakin’s actions had gathered the glory…was killed saving him…like Chewbacca…like Vua Rapuung.

Shattered, lost, wandering with the remnants of the task force he had been forced to confront the fact that so many had given their lives to preserve his – why for what, so he could find and kill more being that were part of the Force, even if in a different way?

In a dream like state he had continued on, wondering how, if he could ever honour Chewbacca, Rapuung and Jacens sacrifice – and as they faced the Voxyn queen somehow it clicked, that they had died so he might live – the best way he could honour them was to ensure more life flourished.

The battle…halted midstream as he felt more than just the static vongsense the lambent in his sabre provided, he felt something more true…As the warriors rammed him to the ground, as a thud bug sliced into his skull, as Jaina escaped he didn’t even notice so caught up in the sudden explosion of living sensation in his force awareness.

Then in the Embrace of pain he learned further as he slipped between states of consciousness, hearing Vergere’s queer voice, feeling the shapers hands as they ‘repaired’ his damaged skull and brain with yammosk tissue, he felt more and more of the vongsense as the pain embraced him and he embraced the pain in turn – the sensation of being alive just as the Yuuzhan Vong taught.

Taken out and tasked with working for one of the Dhuryams being tested to become the World Brain of Yuuzhan’tar he understood more – the shamed ones were not slaves but merely servants of life, the Great Life as he would be – he would promote life, all life, the proliferation.

He taught this to the Dhuryam and it flourished, it grew, it began to encroach beyond the zone allocated to it, to pull the others to join it in flourishing, to overcome – it thrived….and so it was chosen on Tizo'pil Yun'tchilat - The Day of Comprehending the Will of the God - chosen to be made the world brain and taken to the Well where it was to be placed.

There he felt the VongForce fully for the first time, the full connection he had achieved by understanding, embracing the Life of all things.

He knew then the Supreme Overlord Shimrra and his true controller as they stood behind him in the procession.  As the Dhuryam descended into the nutrient rich pool its tentacles lifted him, revealed him fully, and in that moment he decried those who would prevent life flourishing – the Overlord and his Jester repudiated him and used violence…his arm was lost, but recycled their bodies as Vergere and Nom Anor fled – it became clear that enemies of Life, those who held their current life too dear needed to be recycled into the raw stuff of life, and so it was with Vergere who had served her role in counselled him to follow the truer path of his conscience.
Unified with the Dhuryam, connecting into the planet itself he spread himself into the Vongforce, connecting, teaching what he could. 

The intendants and priests proclaimed him Yu’Shaa, prophet, Avatar of the Gods for the power he displayed now able to touch their minds and control the lifeforms that the Vong used, the Shamed ones too knew his tale from Yavin, the Jeeedai for whom Vua Rapuung had given his life was now their Yu’Shaa.

Enraptured he sought to end the war to share the discovery of Life…they brought him Jaina captured with Kyp Durron, but ….

She would not listen, would not understand…she attacked…he faltered, the warriors…she…she…

She joined Life in another way after that, the cycle was embraced the bodies had to return to their base molecule to be one with life, she was not lost in confusion as she struck at her only surviving brother when she saw him covered in biots that had replaced those parts of him damaged against Shimrra and Onimi…she had willingly joined a greater Living Force to show him the way further.

And so it was with the Galactic Alliance – they could not see, could not come to Live with the Yuuzhan Vong, to embrace Life, did not understand that the Vong biotechnology which gloried in Life was better than their dead machines – they continued to fight. 

But by now he understood, Life competes for survival, but over time so long as it grows it is still served.
With this knowledge he permitted Tsavong Lah and Nas Choka to continue their battle in his name, to increase the churn of Life to non-life and back, intervening to prevent the use of Centre Point Station as he had failed to do years earlier.

It would’ve killed so many of the Vong he could not allow that mistake to be made when they had such wonders of life to explore, disabling it he delved deep into it – saw through the Force its history and the Killiks who made it.

His agents sought them in the Unknown regions…the Chiss and their demi-god allies tried to stop him, but he found them.  By then the VongForce was flowing deeply in him, enabling him to ‘reawaken’ individual Yuuzhan Vong to – not the Force as he had known it when he was Anakin Solo, but a New Force, a better Force, a Living Force that Encompassed All Life.  With this power to draw on the Killik Hive minds and Queens were brought under his sway and joined his path, workers and soldiers in the billions, sweeping away the Chiss, dramatically increasing the pace of the Vongforming of worlds and growth of new ships and life forms. 

Still the GA resisted, still they would not join with life – they called it slavery - a cruel word that misunderstood – Life is the Master, all those refugees he had given a home and purpose to serve life instead of running from it in dead metal. And so they fought with their machines and droids a hopeless battle.

And others who had known him before his rebirth in the well Of the World Brain came too.

First it was his Father and Mother – “You’re not my Son….Anakin died a hero on Myrkr with Jacen…but you murdered my daughter” she had said standing beside Boba Fett and his Mandalorian army. 

The outcome was inevitable, he was one with Life now – he could not die – yes his body was damaged – but that simply allowed him more opportunity to unite with different forms of life to become ever more than he was.

More came after that – Katarn, Korr and Zekk came for him with others – Gray Jedi called Templars, Sith lead by Asharrad Hett, again they strove against the Life he embodied – they brought with them devices, artefacts once thought forbidden, but by then as Prophet had found the key to the joining of the Living Force with the Vong, and the new Slayers bred in their hundreds proved too much for them, and with the artefacts His power grew still further.

Then as the GA struggled in its last ditch effort at Sullust the would be Gods intervened – first spear heading what they called a ‘reconquest’ then playing a dangerous and failing hand - the Red Goddess and her Oblivion Army coming for him directly as the so called ‘Second Battle of Sullust’ was fought – they recycled many millions of beings, yet in their hubris they failed, destroying their bodies rather than allowing him to learn their biological secrets in a final act of spite –

A shame they had such a deep connection to the Living Force –a third way beyond VongForce, beyond the way the Jedi and Sith used the Force that was lost with them.

These last efforts defeated the GA was defeated once more over Sullust, their machines broken to be slowly consumed into ions and metals to feed new life over the millennia, the galaxy free and the Force slowly evolving into something new, something greater, something that truly encompassed Life in a simple single way.

Yes…as Prophet he had honoured those who gave their Life for his, their legacy through his hand would be Life in abundance forever.



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 306
Posts: 1659

« Reply #412 on: August 05, 2019, 12:05:35 AM »

The Way it Wasn’t

Chapter 4 - Part 5

With a screech that set the Elites ears bleeding despite their cloaks of Nuun and armour, the vibrations not merely in the air but a form of gravity rending radiation only a demi god could survive - Valens leapt from the edge of the crater.

Like a shadow he wove between the thud bugs and hissing venom fired at him blade swinging down straight into Yu’Shaa’s rising block.  The Bloodstone blade ground against the Yero-Coral staff, even as he pushed off Valens unleashed a Fire-Lighting blast into the vast shoulder that Yu’Shaa soaked up with a sigh

“The last of the Demi-Gods…unfortunate you choose isolation rather than life…” with every word was matched a clash of blade on staff, sending the ancient dust flying up, the air burning with pure Force energies as they pulsed against each other.

A solid wall of blazing blue and red energy surrounded the battling pair as they clashed, a combat Luke could not intervene in if he wanted – not that he had an opportunity. The familiar snap-hiss of his sabre drew the attention of the remaining Slayers as he moved into a ready stance.

Yu’Shaa’s strength and speed were greater than an Aethans, such was the extent of the biotic infusement he had undergone in his twisted pursuit to become one with Life, only with the Aether could Valens keep up,

<Now you know how it feels,> Odjina noted <Tell me when…>

Valens bit back against a heavy blow, he was on his feet now, boots digging deep into the dirt under the extremity of the blows.

Yu’Shaa felt a tinge of sorrow for the deluded, but it would not stop him recycling this enemy of Life.

Luke strained to deflect the torrent of projectiles hurled against him, the Hunter stocky but fast closing in, he levitated rusted plates to take some giving space to engage the first, the familiar scratch of Sabre on amphistaff filling his ears as the fight began in earnest.

It was now or never, hammering the button as she skidded down the lip of the crater Jorya set off the make shift explosives, dust pluming up knocking a few slayers over as she raced to her first position.  She’d set up half a dozen cover points each with a fully charged rifle and grenades that she now wove between firing off shots at the Slayers dividing their attention between her and Luke as Valens and the Prophet spun in a whirlwind of blow and counter blow.

Waves of energy poured off Valens seeking any gap in Yu’Shaa’s own sphere of pure power even as their bodies sought to break the other. His Bloodstone sword pulsed with its electrical enchantment as he sent two shikkars to seek the mucus lined gaps in the Voddun Armour, only to have them eaten by the energy Yu’Shaa pulsed out in response.

Each blow, each wave, every strike, every blast would’ve killed a lesser opponent outright, and were even now taking a heavy toll on their armour, Valens had lost a pauldron and shin guard, Yu’Shaa’s Voduun plating on his left arm was having death spasms, the writing tentacles along his back spurting fluid from where Valens had severed their tips.
Three onto one Luke felt outmatched, the knowledge that mere meters away the last of his family was about to be killed by a being whose was only better than the Vong because he fought them denied him full focus in this battle. A clumsy sidestep let a coufee slice through his upper arm guard, the durasteel flaking open and the skin beneath slicing thinly, he could only hope it wasn’t deep enough to inject any poisons that no doubt coated the Vong blade.

The call was already going out, the ruins about began to swarm with re-enforcements, even Luke Skywalker and Valens could be brought down by sheer numbers…and Yu’Shaa still lived.

The Yammosk implants probed at Valens mind seeking to contort and control, he permitted one level of consciousness to seem to fall, Yu’Shaa would soon realise the ruse, but for not it bought time.

<Now?> Odjina asked
<not yet…>

Jorya broke form her third cover point, but they had reached her, azure blue lighting up she hammered at the first slayers staff, a second trying to flank her.

A keenness and strength she had not felt for years flooded her as she wove between their blows, it was as if all those year imprisoned, despairing, were washed away by the pumping of her heart, Ben’s sabre light and natural as she drove it through each slayer in turn even as more ships landed disgorging hordes to protect their Prophet.

Luke dragged his blade from one body and struck at the next, how long Valens could last, what he intended Luke didn’t know, only that he and Jorya had to give him all the space they could. Hurling telekinetic blasts enough to down an AT-AT he used the backwash to get closer to Jorya, to fight back to back. Winding round in effortless synchronicity they sliced on Slayer to pieces together before slamming back to back as the tide of enemies grew.

He wasn’t on the ground, wasn’t quite flying, but jumping between what footholds he could on the Prophets vast body, striking where he could. Valens could not wear the Prophet down, but that was never his intent.

The Prophet slashed with his upper limbs, scraping along Valens chest plate and sending him back, Valens let the impact thrust him off landing in the dirt as the wall of energy that Luke and Jorya put out kept the growing flood of Vong and Killiks back.

<You can’t hold out much longer> Odjina said
<Just start your tune, you’ll know when>

Widening his stance Valens stared at the Prophet in the break in combat, the Prophet surprised at the tenacity, not since the Red Goddess had he fought such a powerful being…yet even so, this one was much weaker, the Prophets desire was to take the body and learn its genetic secrets, forcing him to hold back from disintegrating the demi-god.

Hand clenched around his sword Valens drew his power to him, and aura of blue energy exploding outward buffeting the Prophet momentarily as he launched forward again.

In the deep silence of the Ancient one, Odjina began to sing once more. A song to the Maker, a song of acceptance, or worry, of hope, a song to strengthen his killer, a song built on forgiveness for that violence.

The first rhythmic waves of the song twinned with the Moonshadow and Starfire, the crystals built into the bloodstone plate against Valens chest pulsing warm, flowing through his Aetheric presence, strengthening and enhancing him.

Yu’Shaa sensed the motif on the edge of his awareness, the strangeness, his subtle single celled visual detectors on his back looked for the other presence enhancing his enemy, but still noted only Skywalker and the Togruta…he pushed out with the Force…there within the Demi God was this other presence.

She felt the change, the sudden burst of speed an power flow through as she sliced cleanly through two, three, six, ten more Vong, Killiks now arriving behind, Skywalker leaping his in tune to the Rhythm pulsing from…not Valens…someone else…Luke blade swept through proboscis and beady eyes, his hand hurling pure energy even as his mind sent daggers of metaphysical power into the Killiks and the odd Slayer with Vongforce.

Bodies piled high around them as Valens pushed against the Prophets power, Odjina’s song channelled through the three crystals of Klu Xandir in the specially made armour plate tripling his already incredible innate power.

For the first time the Prophet felt a measure of doubt he would succeed….the power he could draw on from trillions of life forms was greater in total yes, but diffuse, it took time to draw that power too him, and this Demi-God had just expanded his power threefold in as many seconds.

It was working, it was truly working, she just had to keep going, the Force flowing stronger than ever Jorya flipped off one Killik back, through a Vong dovin-basal propelled trooper into another squad, moving faster than she thought possible her own hands too fast for her sight, too strong for her bones.

And therein lay the cost Luke realised, the battlesong enhanced them, but it was also destroying them, even Valens superhuman body could not cope with such power for a prolonged period.  A wry grin as he severed another Vong head and crushed three killiks with a thought….they only needed to survive long enough

She felt the burning in her finger tips, in her toes, she as wasting away, the tips of Jorya lekku felt frost bitten, yet they kept coming.  

A hissing spit cut past her and into the battle behind her that she could no longer make any sense of, Valens and the Prophet twisting between energy and matter in their combat as Odjina pressed the song t ever higher notes, the Starfire providing ferocity, the Moonshadow speed and defence, the Ancient One, the Sun Fire, drawing on the very heart of the Force as they knew it.

There were thousnads now, she couldn’t hold them all back, even Skywalker, his skin lit blue with power was flagging, for every six or ten they slew a small hit got through, then a larger one, a huge Vong with a beefy yorik coral club managed to hit her from behind, her back nearly snapping with the impact.

She fell to her knees time seeming to stop as Jorya looked upon the tattooed visage of an anonymous Slayer about to drive sharpened coral through her neck.

A hand fell on her right shoulder, another on her left.

As the coral blade moved in slow motion she looked behind.

There on her right shoulder was her mother, D’Alyanna Vih’torr, younger than Jorya had ever seen her, on her left her father Zearic, strong and broad. But they weren’t alone.  

On D’Alyanna’s shoulders lay the hands of the Templar Rackham, and Ken Mack, On Zearic’s shoulders lay he hands of Karmack and her grandfather Kazic Ovarug, and on their shoulders again more hands, the spirits of the Mak’Tor and Vhal’Dan for centuries, millennia past, her friends, Kye, Arnor, Chillum, Silman, and legends she had never met yet somehow recognized, Slo’ma Mack, Saani Kaval, Sulen Reu Lai, Klu Xandir, Jo Set and Li’I Mack – even Anson D’Aklay, Black Rikard and Sarll Båz Rhadde, whatever disagreements in life they united in death as the Force itself fought for survival.

She rose up into a sweeping arc that slashed straight through the Vong, Ben’s sabre enhanced by the energy of a thousand Gray.

On the other side of the twisting melee of Prophet and God Luke felt the same touches upon his shoulder, Mara on his right, Leia on his left, and behind them Jedi from his short lived order – Corran, Kyle, Kam, Tione, Saba, Ganner…Jaina…Jacen….and then further, Yoda, Obi Wan, Qui Gon Jinn – not as they were but youthful and strong as ever, as though they could step forward and fight beside him…and behind them the legions of Jedi before them, some famous – Lord Hoth, Nomi Sunrider, Arca Jeth, others less well known to Luke but no less determined to help him in the final battle of the Jedi – Yshrrk, Soryu, Kimar.

As one Jorya and Luke simply pushed the power that flowed through them outward, the horde before them and the piles of bodies they stood atop flying up the craters edge like so many leaves caught in the wind.

They sunk to their knees, their time was done, Luke reached out his hand, Jorya hers, even as their bodies vanished into the force they felt them land on Valens shoulder, and over them lay Milaea’s.

The Prophet broke back, the Song of Odjina coursing through time to draw forth every Jedi, every Gray that for a moment held to the Force to defeat its perversion that the Prophet embodied.

His army scattered by that power Valens stood alone before him, his armour shredded but for the chest piece where the three crystals shone.  The Prophet could see them all, an army of Jedi and Gray the likes of which could not be imagined, glowing in blues and silver, and now in their midst the red spirits of the Aethans completing the Trinity Valens had planned to achieve.  Jarys stood beside Yshrrk, Kiraea and Aresaea with Kazic, Saani and Yoda, Sofa with Soryu, Aethena and Karintha with Rikard and Anson, Old Andis joined Lord Chillum and Hoth.

On his insect limbs he staggered back in the craters dust, for among the glowing blue, silver and red army were more faces he feared than any other…


and mother


and father

And…no…it…I’m…I’m Ana…I’m….

Anakin Solo

Now Valens had him.



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

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« Reply #413 on: August 05, 2019, 12:08:03 AM »

The Way it Wasn’t

Chapter 4 – Part 6


The question was not for the chunks of stone and magma that had once been a planet and now floated before him.
His home, their home, was shattered by the Yo’gands core tactic, pulling the moon into the world.  It meant there was no where left to run, no place left to go.
They were three in harmony, their World, The People and the Goddesses…now two were gone, and of the People only he remained.  On His knees.  Looking at the ruins of his dead world.  Feeling the echoes of the death of their children on Aethas, and their warriors on Coruscant.

And wondering.


Why had they done it…why had they sent him away….why hadn’t hey told him…

He was the strongest male, centuries of expertise in strategy, combat, Aether usage, an array of powers few beings could retain…yet they sent him on a fools errand while they took on the Prophet…why?

“You know why,” he could almost hear Milaea’s voice beside him

“It’s what you were built for…the Goddesses Brother, the back-up, the emergency…the weapon of last resort.”

“But if I had been there…faced the Prophet together with you, Jarys, Karintha…Sof…”

“It wouldn’t have mattered…we can’t win that way…”

He hung his head as the chunks of molten blackstone that had once been part of his homes mantle and crust floated past indifferent to his speck of a Destroyer.

“The cord is twisted, it needs to be unwound…” the memory of her voice, a warning, an instruction, a prophecy using her Vȍlva arts….

Clenching his fists tendrils of energy crawled up his arms, rage, annoyance, determination, and isolation….his mind raced with thousands of scenarios cold and precise as the bestial rage his brother was better known for set in.

The Vong, the Prophet would be punished…

Punished in a way they could not comprehend

And none would even believe possible.


Valens opened himself fully to Odjina, the Jedi, the Gray, the People, through the Song they had laboured so long to create he could hold their power for but a moment.

A moment was all he needed.

Eyes glassy from seeing himself among the spirits that opposed him, the Prophet didn’t react immediately to Valens leap forward, Aethan body blazing with consuming energy.

Mid air the VongForce realised what was at stake should its nexus - the Prophet - be destroyed by the Old Force – in self-defence it retched the Prophets body to thrust and already half severed ichor bleeding limb forward as Odjina’s brow tightened.

<Valens what are you!>

<It was never going to be me> the last Aethan, the last Native Force user in the galaxy replied as he pulled out the small central disk on which all three of Xandirs crystals lay, pouring the energy of Jedi, Gray and Aethan spirits into it.

The power that had infused Valens dropped and died as the killik grafted limb pierced through his dense bone, the Vongforce ripping into Valens body with all the energy trillions of Vong, Killiks and slaves could muster, focused on him, not on what he was doing.

Odjina felt himself retch….no…he wasn’t alive…yet…he was being pulled, tugged…backwards

<Never let him be born> Valens finished, his strategy succeeding as he cast Odjina’s consciousness back 700 years.




Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

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Light side points please.

« Reply #414 on: August 05, 2019, 07:53:53 AM »

Whoa....  That was amazing...  The final fight, the melding of the three stones, the unified force ghosts of ALL force users vs the VongForce users channeled by the Prophet. 

Just Wow....

And Valens throwing Odjina back 700 years to undo what was done... 

I guess he must have succeeded?  LOL

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« Reply #415 on: August 08, 2019, 01:14:41 PM »

adjective: epic
1. relating to or characteristic of an epic or epics.
"England's national epic poem Beowulf"
synonyms:   heroic, long, grand, monumental, vast, Homeric, Miltonian; More
antonyms:   understated
heroic or grand in scale or character.
"his epic journey around the world"
synonyms:   ambitious, heroic, grand, arduous, extraordinary, Herculean; More
particularly impressive or remarkable.
"the gig last night was epic"

LSG, these past few Interludes of "The Way It Wasn't" have been a BLAST to read...and this chapter is no exception.  I LOVE the inclusion and amalgamation of SO much canon, from the Forumverse to Legends to Current Canon.  Every Easter egg was a smile and the call-back(s) to Legends were ESPECIALLY enjoyable (even though I haven't read many of those books for over a decade).

My personal favorite: the conceit that Valens' plan to throw Odjina back in time to change his own future, resulting in the current canon is INSPIRED...and absolutely AWESOME Grin

And--just as the attached definitions preface--these Interludes have been EPIC!!  Here's to hoping that this is, in fact, a new beginning!

...This storyline is just TOO good to leave like this!!!

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My sabers:Zearic's Aldrnari, Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, AS; Zearic's shoto, Apprentice v4 w/Obsidian, AS; Graflex SE w/Obsidian, GB; Archon v3 (modded w/ activation box) w/Obsidian, CG; Dark Sentinel v4 w/Obsidian, BR; Sentinel LE v4 w/Obsidian, GB; Initiate v5 w/Obsidian, AS; Sentinel LE v4 stunt, EG; Aeon LE v4 stunt, FO; Dominix v4 stunt, BR; Aeon v3 stunt, SY

Knight Commander

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« Reply #416 on: September 05, 2019, 03:58:06 PM »

The Way it Wasn’t

Chapter 5 - Part 1

Sensation he had not known for centuries overwhelmed him.
Blinding light though it was barely a glimmer.
Screeching sound only above a whispers
Agonizing pain though it was but the brush of his clothes
Odjina felt Weight to himself as he sagged to the ground.
As images cleared a face thrust itself before him…familiar but…not…

The face shook violently…no the face was shaking Odjina violently….


It vanished, blinding lights flashed nearby, green and red, a smell hammered into his nose of burning flesh as the wind of combat slashed his face.

“Jin…HEALER!” Soryu yelled across the ruined building.


He knew this place.

This Time

This was Bpfassh…a sect of Dark Jedi had conquered the system, establishing a feudal system of sorts over the populace before expanding outward.  It was an anachronistic attempt some said to revive the demagoguery of the mid Draggluuch period of the ‘New Sith Wars’ then only 300 years ago.

For Odjina it was the first time he had gone to war.

Strong arms under his were dragging him back across the rubble strewn ground, his lekku twitching with the after effects of the jolt back…so far back…

Soryu ran alongside…not Soryu as he had last seen him, but…young…barely twenty years old…

“….happened?” a voice asked

“He just collapsed, I didn’t see him take any hits…” Soryu grasped Odjina’s limp hand, the uniqueness of the sensation – of any sensation – painful enough to make him wince

“It’ll be alright Jin, the healers and singers will help…”

No it won’t…in 30 years you’ll cast us out, in 45 the Grand Master of the Jedi will ….

“…send V…alens to kill us…” Odina slurred thought and speech still not distinct to him

“What?” Soryu asked his youthful features etched with worry

“Alens, what is Alens?”

A shattering rumble hammered his ear drums as something exploded in the distance, Soryu glanced to his friend, then back to the where the sound came from.

“I’ll be back Jin…”

Jin…no one’s called me Jin in decades…

“…or centuries”


Keen red eyes surveyed the situation, this was hardly his first battle…but he never forgot any one could be his last.

“Form up on the east ridge…” he said confidently and calmly belying the doubt within as he stood atop a ruined comms tower overlooking the wreckage of a vast Hive-apartment- once home to 70,000, now a forest of durasteel beams jutting from duracrete grains.

“Give cover to the advancing Sentinels, Shadows move through those exposed tunnels see if you can find a way to the other side of the Mag-rail through them…”

His second officers nodded and went about their orders without doubt or question.

Kazic Ovarug had only thirty Vhal’Dan under his command to support the Jedi effort against the Bpfasshi Dark Jedi and their thralls, but with his growing experience in guerrilla warfare he had already managed to cut off a number of Bpfaash attempts to outflank the Jedi and offered High Sentinel Yshrrk some useful intel to that effect.

Not that the enormous wookie needed advice, what he needed was more eyes on the ground and blades in the fight, a report had come in one of the Mak’Tor allied soldier, their best in fact a Twi’lek by the name of Odjina had fallen suddenly in the ruins of one of the Cantons that dotted the outer city scape – with him had collapsed the ‘Battlesong’ that was acting like a battle meditation to support the Jedi advance throwing them into disarray.

Ovarug was yet to meet a Mak’tor Singer, he knew them only from the Chronicles of the Vhal Dan, where the deeds of Lord Chillum and Sage Slo’ma were ranked alongside those of Black Rikard and Sarll Båz Rhadde, indeed their ‘Song’ abilities seemed to give them access to powers well beyond even the greatest Vhal’Dan, as his master Strykka Annix had attested.

Kazic always felt there was an element of nostalgia to these tales, a little over exaggeration, and had been keen to see this ‘Odjina’ in action…it seemed he had come too late.

“7th speaker,” A Koawan interrupted, “You need to see this…” Kazic nodded returning to the battle fully.


Large dark eyes opened. A statue to all outside appearances coming to life as Master Varel’Zo of the Vhal’dan aboard the Sulen in orbit over Bpfaash felt the Flow disrupted.

No…not merely disrupted…twisted with intent. Purpose…power the likes of which he had never sensed before.

An Aing Tii his species had a natural affinity to flow walking and seeing the Force in all its colours and myriad paths…and in that was both blessing and curse, for Varel’zo in particular his ability to feel out the tides of the Flow of time was acute, and such a disruption was blinding in a dim way.

Creaking the bony plates of his body upward he resolved to investigate further.


With a grimace of regret the sunrider green of his blade sliced through the cultists shoulder severing the arm, spinning round to boot her into the wall, the pain from the amputation sending her unconscious.

Soryu sighed out at having to do such things, at the edge of his mind were thoughts, ideas, questions of how all this linked into the Jedi code, into the path of following the living force…he needed to pause and think about whether such violence was needed…yet when so many innocent people were at risk it seemed there was no time.

Pushing on despite himself he put the thoughts aside for now…”Too young to get wise” Jin teased at him, he was only 24, a knight for three years, but Soryu had realized early age was no precondition of wisdom – not that he claimed such but he had certainly learnt more from Jin in their conversations on the nature of the Force, the Maker or lack thereof, and the ‘Song’ than he had many an old Jedi master.

Jin…I hope it’s nothing serious… his collapse had been so sudden, they were in the midst of a fight and then just…he had felt something strange in the Force just before…could it be a new kind of attack the Cultists were…

“All Units, All Units, be advised Ifkaas Gate has fallen, the Bpfasshi leader has fled to orbit, Master Yoda is in pursuit,” the comm paused

“High Sentinel Yshrrk has ordered all forces to pull back to the nearest strong point for reassignment to negotiations teams,”

“Thank the….” Soryu paused, he almost said ‘Maker’…another idea of Jin’s rubbing off on him

Leaning against a broken column he wiped the sweat and dirt from his brow, glanced at the unconscious cultist…and the three others in the corridor lit by a blinking yellow light behind as he caught his breath.

This couldn’t be right, surely all this devastation…there had to be…

Shuffling debris caught his ears, swiftly into a defensive pose he fixed his eyes on the movement.

Stumbling out of a ruined doorway, a frantic terrified child.

“Whoa hold up!” he dropped his sabre and knelt down, the child was Bpfaashi, a mix Soryu thought of human and Nagai, its gender obscured by youth and grime.

It skidded to a halt and stared noting his tattered tunic beneath dull grey armour plating,

“No don’t take me too!!!” it screeched running off, Soryu quickly after it, it was simply not safe for child here.  With the Force it was hardly a chase and he soon scooped up the child and used the force to suppress the urgent flight instincts.

“It’s alright I’ll protect you…get you to one of the camps…” Soryu soothed trying to emulate a ‘calming motif’ Jin had shown him once, but not really succeeding.  Then the words stuck him.
“Who was trying to take you?” Soryu gently pressed with the force to ensure a response
“Da Nobles, d’ay took da others in me crèche”
Taking other children…
“Show me where,”


His breathing was normal, his body still strong and healthy, no obvious injuries – physical or mental…yet Gurrlum could sense something…off with Odjina, the young Gray Knight, as he sat up in the medical tent.

Odjina blinked as the Gado shone a light in his eyes checking his pupils, trying to avoid looking at him directly.  Gurrlum was one of the few Masters who supported the Mak’Tor during the debates over their expulsion…or rather he would be…but then…years later Odjina knew he would fall afoul of the so called Sith of Cygrat, that only centuries later Odjina would learn was Valens brother Jarys.

“No obvious signs of injury,” the Gado went on, “Perhaps you’ve just been overdoing it, your Battle-song is certainly effective, even Kimar admit’s that, but Jin you’ve been using it for nearly two weeks straight, that has to take a toll,”

Looking into the large wet eyes Odjina didn’t even hear the words, only saw the inevitability of Gurrlum’s death.

Why am I here…I can’t change this…what am I meant to do?
No one would believe him if he said he was from the future sent by an Aethan while fighting the Yuuzhan Vong…because…no one had heard of either…it would be at least 40 years before the Aethans intersected with the Jedi, 700 before the Vong…
Only Yoda will live that long…or…an Aethan…but Valens, Milaea haven’t even been born yet…they wouldn’t believe an Outsider anyway…the Jedi will never believe this threat, it’s too abstract…Skywalker, Palpatine…names only I know

“Jin?” Grurrlum prompted at the distant look in his eyes

“hmmm…oh sorry…I drifted off there…did I see Soryu earlier?”

“Yes he brought you here before returning to the Residential sector…should be back soon the Bpfaashi master has fled, his forces are in retreat…”

Odjina perked up

“Wait he fled?”

“Yes just after the Vhal’Dan arrived, their assault took their communications arrays, broke their battle-net…”

“The children…” Odjina said Gurrlum not undestanting

This is when we find the ship…the Bpfaashi Acolytes…trying to use children as human shields escaping…Soryu and I…we fought eight of them…we barely survivied…

“Soryu is alone!” Odjina leapt up, before Gurrlum could react, a Speed-song he would not learn for another 12 years propelled Odjina out the tent.


There they were…four cultists pushing children into a dumpy old ship…no doubt planning to use them as human shields to avoid the Jedi firing on them, ion blasts to disable too dangerous on such an old vessel for risking cutting life support.  Then jump to hyperspace and probably sell the children for credits.

Soryu would not allow it.

“Stay here…” he said to the child, four onto one wasn’t great, but they looked to be low level acolytes at least and weary from the fighting as he was…and hopefully with their leader gone he could negotiate.

Stepping out proudly he raised his hands in a gesture of peace

“Hold on there!” he called, immediately three spun red blades ignited

“It’s over, the Dark Master has fled, we can all put down our weapons, I can grant you safe passage to a refugee centre!” Soryu went on

“Lies!” spat a voice from within the ship…Foru now became eight…four low Acolytes, three Adepts…and one Sorceress who now spoke

“You will execute us all, I know the darkness in a Jedi heart masked behind grand words and promises of peace…even now you’ve my peoples blood on your face!”

Soryu flinched at the truth of her words.

“This war has been…a mistake,” he admitted stumbling as he stepped forward

“But there is no need for more suffering, please let those children go…I’ll make sure you’re not fired upon.”

The woman sneered,

“Liar, kill this fool!”

Soryu sighed as his sabre flipped to his hand.

Pushing out of the sabre lock, he spun through with his elbow, using his height and strength to hammer it into the cultists forehead.

Like a bag of rocks the last one dropped,

“Tie them,” Kazic ordered, with the Dark Master on the run the Jedi now wanted to take captives where possible, Kazic was happy enough to oblige.

Where practical.

With each fleeing group they encountered resistance was less and less, still a few of the more fanatical fighters had left the Vhal’Dan force no choice.

Kazic looked over his Sentinels tying up the survivors, flicking his wrist comm to check reports from his scouts…everything seemed to be going….

“Look Out!”

A tremendously fast green skinned, Twi’lek?, burst through the centre of the fountain square they had just secured, nearly bowling Nydd’ri off zher feet.

“What in the Sarlaccs Belly….” Kazic did a double take,
“Follow that…sentient!”

It shouldn’t be this…simple… Soryu felt even as he moved like water through the sea of red blades.

Why… It felt as if the force itself was guiding his every motion, keeping him from any harm, allowing him to kick away an Adept here, telekinetically hurl an Acolyte there.

As Odjian reached the place he remembered he saw Soryu’s sunrider green move like a wall of light against the darkness of the cultists robes and blades…he hd been so worried Soryu would fall alone…yet now…

He simply stood in awe of his friend as he dispatched one cultist after another, the Sorceress that lead them becoming frustrated as she was astounded.

Something had changed in that moment Odjina realised…him not being there….Soryu had realized something…something important years earlier than he should have.

It’s because I’m fighting not for myself….not to win…but to protect them…not just the children, but the cultists as well…to raise your weapon to defend others and for no other reason is what gives a Jedi his power in battle

Odjina simply watched as a tall dusty Anzat skidded to a halt beside him, forgetting the unusual Twi’lek he had been chasing to stare in amazement as the daen-nosi pulsed with living energy about the man up ahead taking on three cultists alone, five more unconscious on the ground.

In all his years Kazic had never seen such a display of…skill seemed out of place a word…but sheer…Light in the force.  He couldn’t have even gotten there in time to help so swift and elegant were the motions that saw the young knight round on a Sorceress and put her in a sleep lock.

“Not fighting back darkness,” Odjina said “But revealing the light,”
There was no sense of fatigue, only calm as the last of the cultists dropped.

Turning round he didn’t head to the small group of Jedi he didn’t recognize assembling nearby, but rather went to kneel by a small hollow in the rubble of a building.

“It’s safe now…” he smiled shortly feeling the child’s hand in his own
“Let’s get your friends…”

“So are you Jin!” he smiled back
“Come we need to help the children they abducted…”

As they headed toward the ship a tall dark haired Anzat swept beside them

“Knight…I am Kazic Ovarug of the Vhal’Dan strike force…might I render assistance?”

“If you have arms to carry, there are some children in that ship that need to be taken to one of the camps,” Soryu said with a peacefulness that was infectious

“Of course…might I inquire your name Knight?”

“Oh…Soryu, Third Cresh Vanguard, and my fiend Jin,”

Jin obviously being the one who had sped passed them all faster than anything Kazic had witnessed, cause for astonishment enough but this other

“Soryu…it is a pleasure to…”

Rushing through the broken archways a Vhal’Dan scout ran up to him
“Master we have reports of cultists using civilians as human shields to try and negotiate ships to escape…your presence is needed…”

Kazic’s mouth pursed, he desperately wished to speak more with these two Jedi,

“…ah…another time Soryu, Jin,” he nodded

“Another time, we’ll take care of things here” Soryu smiled

Odjina merely nodded as Kazic left.

A minor change…a pebble in the stream, not enough to change anything…three men whose meeting now could’ve created bond that in the future could prevent….so much misery…

But it wasn’t to be.

In that moment Odjina understood he could change some things…

But not others.

They were shipping out now…the Vanguard units at least. Clean up would take years, but Knights were needed elsewhere.

Odjina sat on a crate overlooking the now smoking – at least not burning anymore – habitat-hives –as he waited for his transport…wondering what to do next.

In his pocket, scrawled on grotty flimsi were all the details he could write down…as each hour passed he found it harder and harder to remember without a reminder.

Vong – no force biotech, invade near Sernpidal 700 years – scouts before then – Prophet – Vongforce, Palpatine Empire….

And the list went on…but each time he looked it seemed less clear, as though whatever memories of the future he had were slowly being erased and his mind ‘reset’ to how it had been…

“Best not lose that…” a mechanical voice came from behind.

Odjina turned to see a stone like creature the likes of which he had never seem holding a strange microphone like device, half a dozen writhing tongues all over it.

“I am Master Varel-Zo of the Vhal’Dan…..” it said through the microphone, no doubt a translator

“And you have travelled very far,”

Odjina nodded

“I have…do you…know anything about…?” he let it trail off

“Beyond the horizon, no…but there is purpose in your being here…to right a twist…and repeat a wrong,”

“I don’t know what to do…” Odjina admitted looking down at the flimsi again, he would need to type it soon, ensure he had another copy

“Can’t even remember who sent me here or why….huh…” Odjina chuckled

“I probably sound quite mad”

“You are,” Varel Zo replied trudging on heavy feet to crunch beside him overlooking the setting sun.

“To try and shift the river with your hands is madness, you cannot dictate where the water will flow, but you know how it does.”

Odjina thought for a moment on that odd parable

“Water…follows the path of least resistance…so I should move with it…the course was already changed…”
He held up the flimsy piece of tattered paper.

“This is proof it’s already moved…now I just go with it…”

Varel-zo remained un-moving, Odjina belatedly realizing he should not expect the unusual Jedi to ‘nod’ – indeed was unsure if its species could.

“Perhaps….” Varel-zo finally said as the last rays of sun vanished behind a smoking craters rim.



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

Knight Commander

Force Alignment: 306
Posts: 1659

« Reply #417 on: September 30, 2019, 05:53:15 PM »

The Way it Wasn’t
Chapter 5 - Part 2
“How would it work?” Odjina had asked

“Surely time flows in one direction to try and change it would only create a paradox that ends with it de-resolving back into how things already eventuated?”

Valens seemed annoyed at his ignorance

“Time and the Force do not work that way…it is like a river, there is one main flow, but beside that there are other streams that feed in or flow off, not always in the same direction, above, below, within, moving in circulars, spirals, boxes….”

He paused projecting an image of sorts to Odjina a stream of energy in the void a main tunnel of light flowing forward but small streams of different…Colours?....moving along the edge at all angles twisting and writhing in non-Euclidian shapes within and outside. 

Odjina puzzled at the concept,
“If we were on one of these tangent timelines…how would we know, would we inevitably flow back into this main time line…” Odjina said more to himself

Valens once more shrugged idly sharpening his swords, Odjina went on

“…and wouldn’t that diminish the importance of everything here…all those joys, all the suffering…just a possibility that vanished when the tendril curves back into the prime timeline” the concept was worrying Odjina, if everything he had seen and done was just some…alternate reality that didn’t matter…the whole value of his life, that of others seemed worse than insignificant.

“The main line is not untouched, things come and go into and through it, connect and disconnect…all the parts make it up” Valens sniffed indicating he was tired of this conversation.  Whether it was because Odjina was too ‘limited’ to understand, or Valens did not fully understand himself, Odjina was uncertain.


Smog filled winds swept up the landing pad ruffling at her well travelled robes, her sons beside her amidst the crowd waiting for the transport to arrive.

She could feel the tension in her breast, last she heard her adopted son had taken a bad turn, but the manifest showed he was returning from Bpfaash and the war there.

Beside her she could feel her eldest Jo’nas still felt sour at not being chosen to join the Jedi strike force, having missed out on the great battle with the Cultists.  Ha’Ona was glad of it, Jo’nas might be strong, developing an excellent Ataru form, but at twenty years old and only newly knighted still had too much Mack stubbornness about him.  At any rate, she knew he would see more than his share of action it time.

“Here it comes,” A’Lan noted pointing to the red painted Consular Corvette, her youngest son at eighteen, he was as different from his brother as brothers could be, more relaxed – sometimes too relaxed – and optimistic, he was developing into a strong singer, in any other age he would, when older, be a surety for Master of Song…

But that role she knew would fall to her adopted son who she now felt more strongly as the corvette landed up ahead.

Twenty years ago she had been on Ryloth with Auran’Qel’Droma, a firm and focused Temple Jedi, investigating a trafficking ring, there she had come across a seven year old Twi’leki boy leading a small band of impoverished scamps, instinctively using the Song to play tricks to steal food and credits.

That was Odjina, another ‘trafficking orphan’, most likely the child of an underage sex slave and some incautious ‘customer’, and the boy she had adopted to teach him he could use those traits – his ability to sing so naturally and a desire to protect others – for the benefit of so many. 

The three boys had grown together, Oddjina taking her two sons much as another pair of scamps to look after, helping him to slowly overcome the anger and frustration of a life of poverty, developing into a man she could not be more proud of, and who she knew in her heart would be the leader of the next generation of Mak’tor and set an example that would guide them for many more.

But for now he was simply the slightly gangly young man wandering down the ramp as other Jedi crowded greeted their returning friends.

“Jin!” A’lan rushed up grabbing his adoptive brother in a bear hug and half lifting him though being a half a head shorter, Jo’nas more circumspect patting him on the arm.

Ha’Ona approached behind and instantly saw there was something wrong…more than just the recent experience of war weighing on him…his eyes were…distant – as if staring into eternity.

“Jin…my son…” she cupped his face in her hands finally meeting his gaze.

She’ll pass soon…just over five years… he remembered in the dream like way the knowledge came to him…the precognition he had experienced ever since his collapse on Bpfaash.  He couldn’t remember much of it now, the first vison was now reduced to words typed out on a borrowed datapad that made no sense. Yet every now and then…

As A’Lan had hugged him he saw a woman with purple make up, a little conceit to his…Successor…Li’I and Jo’nas…in his pat, two others, a son and daughter, Ho’Li…Jo’Set…

Odjina shook it off and embraced his adoptive mother as Soryu stepped out, greeted by A’Lan and Jo’nas as well, the five of them relived to see each other again before Soryu interrupted the reunion.

“Jin, you should head off to the Temple, get checked out again,”

Odjina nodded the emotion of seeing his family again like a strange, dread weight as a grim certainty of future grief settled on him, A’lan and Jo’nas lead him off as Ha’Ona pulled Soryu aside.

“What happened?” she whispered as they left and the other returning Jedi celebrated their return with their friends around them
Soryu shrugged

“No idea, he was in the middle of a battlesong then just…Collapsed, I think he was overdoing it, maybe strained his connection to the force…when he fell it felt like..a…” Soryu tried to find words to describe the sensation…tear was incorrect, yet there was a ‘breach’…like a portal? no that didn’t make sense.

Ha’Ona merely nodded well aware some things defied description.

“I’ll have the boys keep a close eye on him, how are you?”

Soryu paused reflecting

“I’m…strangely at peace, during the fight I think I understood something about the Living Force…something I need to meditate more on…”

Inclining her head she stepped aside to let him pass, relieved they were both safe, yet worried at what had changed in their absence.


Everywhere he went, everywhere he looked were memories of a future past.

Flickering images like a broken holograph played out as Odjina wandered the temple, conversations, lessons, arguments, bitterness, betrayal….emotions without direction as he headed toward the upper level medical centre.

He stopped halfway in an empty corridor leaning heavily on a marble pillar.

“Something happens here…so many things….”

He couldn’t focus on one, everything mingled joy, horror, a warrior with a blue sabre flanked by men in white armour…two creatures in Oblivion seeking a girl in red…twisting and blackened oil dripping across everything, green wretched features on a throne.

Fixed point something whispered in the back of his mind in a voice that was not…kind…even if it was trying to ‘help’ him.

“A fixed point?”

He looked around head spinning in search of…what he didn’t know…

All he saw was the odd cleaning droid and the shadows of the future.

Control…control… his fists clenched painfully, the words of Ha’Ona in his mind…always keep moving…

“There’s something off with Jin…” A’lan noted in between trying to dodge his brother Ataru blows with a somewhat clumsy Soresu – Jo’Nas had always been the stronger and more physical of the pair.

Blessed with the brawn while I got the brains he often teased

“It’s to be expected…nnng” Jo’Nas hammered with a downward slash that A’Lan rolled to avoid, the training blade cutting into the ferrocrete – Jo’Nas always went in too hard, trying to compensate for his lack of flexibility with brute force.

“…he’s just come back from his first major war…changes a person…” Jo’Nas went on rising back up in a strong guard, A’Lan looking for openings, but shorter and weaker it was hard – A’Lan had been working on some small song tricks, but didn’t want to test them till they were completely ready.

“…It’s more than that…like he’s…been away for years, and then his old self again…it’s weird,” A’lan had always been the more sensitive, had some proficiency in Force singing – nowhere near Odjina’s natural ability – but he was content with that, A’Lan preferred to be able to sit back a bit and take it easier, not be the focus of all the attention and subject to the pressures that brought.

Feinting to the left A’lan struck right, Jo’Nas heavier frame and lower speed meaning he barely caught the strike on his blade, but the extra strength in his parry pushed A’Lan off into a stagger, Jo’Nas followed through with an unusually fast strike to his backside.

“You’re gone!”

“This time…”

“Every time…maybe if you spent more time with the practice droids…”

“I could memorize their moves like you do?”

Jo’Nas scrunched his nose as the all too accurate barb from his more eloquent brother.

“It’s been nearly a fortnight since he got back though…” A’Lan went on rubbing his stinging rear the numbness of the training blade seeping along his leg causing him to limp.

“He still has that distant look…” his face showed genuine concern. Jo’nas had noticed it too, it seemed as if Odjina were watching some…horrific holo-film play out in every corridor of the Temple.

Sighing he clasped his brother shoulder

“I know…but we’ll take care of him.”


Down through twisted undusted passages and old creaky doors that squealed as they slid open, past the sudden change in style from smooth machined durasteel to more patchwork alloys of ferrocrete that supported the towering levels above, lay the shrines of the Mak’Tor beneath the temple.

Here Ha’Ona had brought Odjina, after nearly three weeks back now he still seemed off.  He was she had to admit improving, but the vacant look of one who had seen much too much remained.

He sat before here on the rock – real rock of what was once the sacred peak on Coruscant during the age of tribes and clans before it became the sprawling ecumenopolis and centre of the republic.

As he breathed ever more slowly she noted his body, clothed in a thin tunic, start to settle, breathing out her own calm onto him.

The experience of war changed everyone, Ha’Ona understood that all too personally, but Odjina’s reaction, when she considered his horrific experiences on Ryloth and the missions they had been on together since she adopted him, seemed out of place. If anyone was prepared to face open war like that it was him.

He let the resonance of the age of this place flow through him…he had sent weeks looking for the elusive ‘Fixed point’ now here atop the ageless mountain in the bowels of the temple he could feel it…

It was as if the deep memory embedded in the ancient mountain by some eldritch osmosis took the anxious twitching of time around his mind.

He could feel Ha’Ona feel the change was over him, feel her relief…a temporary one to be sure…she would not, fortunately live to see…to see…

Something looming dark and dense that shattered crystals in an ice cold cavern, rage and fury as cousins fought over blood thirsty revenge, a son exiled, a legacy lost to the wild woods where witches roamed…

Realizing he was slipping once more he pushed back, tethering his thoughts on Ha’Ona, on the Mountain, on the Now

The swirl of images stabilised around the mental image of his surrounds as his eyes pressed tighter…he took a holo’ of sorts in his mind of this moment, in the silence, wrapped in the Force with his adoptive mother there, the aged Mount under his feet…

This was his fixed point, this was where he could retreat to wherever he was, whatever chaos was about him.

His breathing steadier he  finally let out a breath held since…since he had ‘returned’ from some terrible future.

Sensing the change Ha’Ona too relaxed…he had found his peace, thank the Maker, and more than that he had done so on his own, her only contribution was to insist he come down here.  She felt a mother’s pride that her son could stand on his own, but was willing listen to advice when needed.

He was not recovered fully yet she knew, but in Time…


“No rest for the wicked,” Soryu smiled coming up the large columned hall way, the shimmer of the room of a thousand fountains behind him.

“Just got an assignment to Phaeda…” he continued catching up with Jin and the brothers

“…some dispute between a Super-Agri Corporation and the farm workers turned violent, burning crops and the like, time to put those investigation and negotiation skills to work,”

Jo’nas didn’t envy such a boring task, A’Lan seemed more interested, Jin still a little distant.

“Have you got new assignments yet?” Soryu asked

“We were just headed to the Co-ordination centre now, who’s on the desk?” A’Lan asked in return, after nearly a month since Odjina came back, Jo’nas and A’lan were getting stir crazy in the temple, eager to be given a new mission.

“Yshrrk himself,” Soryu said with a smile, all had great respect for the Wookie Sentinel, not just for his leadership and prowess as a warrior, but the high level of respect he accorded the Gray Jedi.

“At least he’ll give us something more interesting that sweeping mynocks…” A’Lan said hopefully

“Yet still well above your ability,” a tone that could only come from an arrogant snide face interrupted.

Coming from down another hall, flanked by two other Jedi was…

Kimar…you sick murderer… Odjina’s eyes instantly narrowed his hand itched to grip his sabre for reasons he couldn’t articulate,

“Give it a rest Kimar,” Soryu dismissed waving his hand
Like his master, Kimar had adopted the anti-gray sentiments of a growing, but still overall minority of Council members, since the passing of Soryu’s own master Auran’Qel’Droma, the last Grand Master and a determined friend of the Mak’Tor and Vhal’dan – though some rumours suggested a more intimate ‘friendship’ with Ha’Ona Mack after she was widowed - their faction had become far more vocal in espousing Orthodox Jedi teachings against Gray Jedi “concessions to fads of social libertarianism”. 

“Soryu, always the defender of the weak and witless,” The Ikotchi sneered
“Can the Gray Jedi not speak for themselves”

Jo’nas, face red pushed in front of Kimar, his mouth about to issue a challenge…

Odjina gripped his arm,

“He’s not worth it Jo’set,”

Jo’ mouth scrunched back the challenge as Kimar simply rolled his eyes and headed to the co-ordination centre, Odjina pressing a gentle calm toward Jo.

As Soryu did likewise, A’lan stood a little back, Odjina had spoken so firmly, too firmly to make a mistake, it had come too naturally for that.

A’lan wondered just who Jo’Set was.


<There are two items for investigation…>
Yshrrk’s low rumble like distant thunder echoed in the Co-ordination room above the beeping of computers as Tnbu tapped away reports summarising field agents findings.

There were six of them before the large white desk, and behind that standing rather than sitting was the enormous Sentinel Wookie who always gave A’lan the disturbing image of a vengeful stuffed animal come to life to exact vengeance for being put away in cupboard.

At the far end Jo stood, the A’lan, the Odjina…and beside Odjina, Kimar and his two patsies also there for assignment. The tension from the corridor remained just simmering, none had any doubt Yshrrk could sense it but he made no mention.

<…one a report of smuggling of Massassi artefacts, the other a new type of Spice being smuggled into Coruscant with some extreme side effect.>

“A proper Jedi should investigate the smuggling of Sith Artefacts.” Kimar burst out in a fight of righteousness.
Yshrrk remained unmoved tree trunk arms across his brown furred chest.

<A Proper Jedi would not be so arrogant Knight Kimar, Knight Odjina will attend to that task,> Yshrrk firmly grunted in a deeper bass than usual expressing displeasure.

I remember this…the Massassi artefacts…they were all fakes, two months of investigation just to find a chop shop of con-men and dodgy out of work artists trying to make credits by faking artefacts they saw pictures of in some old books…

“Actually, Master,” Odjina interrupted

“I am happy for Knight Kimar to investigate the Massassi artefacts, if he feels the force calling him strongly to this mission, I do not wish to stand in his way,”

Jo’Nas raised an eyebrow confused, A’Lan more perceptive sensed the hint of humour in Odjina’s presence but couldn’t pin the why of it. Yshrrk too seemed curious at the response but acquiesced reaching for the data pads.

<Very well…In that case here are the files…>


“hmmmmph…” Jo’nas huffed out again as they sat in the hold of the Rain Song reviewing the briefings

Investigating a drug trafficking ring was so…cliché…find the supplier, catch them in the act at their labs, wait around for the local trial to put them away then go home…no chance for adventure o real challenge like a Massassi smuggling ring might have.

“hmmmmpphh…” he went again

A’lan ignore his brothers huffing and puffing

“hrrrmmmm….” A third time

“Enough Jo,” Odjina snapped

“Being a Knight is about protecting and helping others, whatever form that takes, not just chasing Sith Lords or fighting Vong armies!”

Jo sat bolt upright from his irritated slouch at the outburst, A’lans quick eyes looking between the two men wondering what would happen next, and once more A’lan picked up another unusal word…Vong to be added to the list he was keeping of Odjina’s strange utterances – so far he had “Vong, Jo’set, Alens or possibly Valens, Skywalker and Palpateen or Palpatyyne”.

Odjina fixed Jo’s gaze with his…or rather what would be…his Kage look…
…but then seeing the shock he softened instantly

“A new Spice variant might not sound exciting, but the number of lives that can effect, the ricochet across a society of one lost to drug addiction…we’ve all seen what Spice has done to Ryloth and the outer rim, if we can at least slow the spread, that is something.”

The personal connection to Ryloth struck Jo, Odjina rarely mentioned such aspects of his troubled childhood.

“Sorry Jin…just…eager to get moving, get back into the game,”

“You’ll have your chance Jo, but don’t look for trouble, it will find us soon enough,” he smiled getting up to pat him on the shoulder as he headed to the cockpit.

The familiar layout of the Rain Song’s controls spread out before him…blue and green lights and white ready signals all prepared for departure.

“Water…follows the path of least resistance…so I should move with it…the course was already changed…” he thought of his brief conversation with Varael-Zo.

Something had changed, he had not been on this mission last time, had no fear of the strange anti-memories plaguing him, and even if he did he had a Fixed point to calm him.

“Now to follow where the river takes me…”



Surik: "Kreia, what are you—are you a Jedi, a Sith?"
Kreia: "Does it matter? Of course it does, such titles allow you to break the galaxy into light and dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole."

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« Reply #418 on: October 01, 2019, 07:35:39 AM »

LSG, I am loving this story.  The alternate timeline is fascinating.   I'm still trying to decide if we're seeing Odjina repair the timeline to match our canon, or if we're flowing from one alternate to another.  And I don't know



And your treatment of the Mak'Tor is spot on.   Thank you for that.   Though I have to admit, there was a small part of me that wanted Odjina upon seeing Kimar to immediately draw his weapon and strike him down....

But that's a temptation for another time and place...


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« Reply #419 on: October 02, 2019, 09:30:44 AM »

I agree with Karm: this alternative timeline is magnificent!  Plus, the fact that you could easily work it into the canon line has potential (canon being the correction thanks to Odjina's efforts naturally).

Karm brought up a great point: the Mak'Tor characters FEEL like Mak'Tor.  That's one of the (many) reasons that I enjoy collaborations as I feel that our little collection of authors "get" the characterizations e.g. Aing-Tii Gray Master Varel'Zo and his distracted nature: perfect for someone who is a Flow-Walker.

Of course, this leads us to the question: is Odjina's prescience concerning the future enough to fix it?  Will change ripple through time, the waves enough to produce another outcome or is Odjina doomed by Time's propensity to course-correct?

Next chapter please!

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