Interludes

[TheDutchman]

This was a wonderful interlude!  Caedon has GOT to be one of my favorite characters and in LSG's hands I was not disappointed!  Personally, I'd love to find out more about the "Butcher of Bar'leth" and getting back into the good graces of the Empire as this installment was an outstanding window into his mindset (this guy is BADASS; able to take on Force-users and WIN?!  Yep: a fantastic villian  ).

Special props to LSG for giving us this enjoyable snippet and TR for allowing such to occur 

I think we need more POV chapters from Caedon 

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-Doubt, Part I

“…which brings us to your first lessons concerning telekinesis.”  I made my voice lighter, remembering what D’Aylanna had said jokingly the week prior:  “Shakal, you shouldn’t speak in your regular voice when teaching younglings; they usually think that you’re cross with them.”  She would know; she was witness to the first classes that I had instructed.  So, cognizant of that in mind, I raised my voice an octave when speaking to the younglings.

When Karm and Arnor had gone off to retrieve the Ancient One, I was admittedly distraught and, seeing this, it was Master Chillum that had suggested that I try my hand at teaching some of the Mak’Tor younglings, which would consequently also allow me to heal from my surgery.  The venerable Gray Master had taken me aside almost conspiratorially.

“Zearic, lad, from one invalid to another, ‘tis not good to find yourself with too much time on your hands.”  He looked significantly from my legs to his own.  “And I know that the younglings shouldn’t tax your healing the way teidowans would.”  His wrinkled face smiled, his blue eyes deceptively clear.  His voice dropped so that it carried no further than between us.  “Lad…try not to worry overmuch about your leg.  It takes time to mend.  And we humans are an adaptable lot.”  He patted my back, his hands surprisingly strong.  “Time, lad.  And acceptance.”  He said louder as he left.

Shaking my head at the retreating master, I kept thinking…worrying…about the conversation that I’d had with one of the Mak’Tor Healers about needing to have my other leg cybernetically replaced.  There had been…problems, the Singers had found more extensive damage to the nerves than originally thought and, despite their best efforts, my leg had not continued to heal as had been hoped.  Within the week, things took a turn for the worst as the limb began to wither.  And while the Singers were able to keep the worst at bay, I had a choice to make.  Or no choice, really.  In fact, aside from my worry about both D’Aylanna and Jorya, my leg had occupied my thoughts foremost on my mind.

I had been thankful to Master Chillum; it was as if he’d read my mind.  But, because of him I knew what I needed to do, finally making the hard choice that I’d been vacillating on.  The next day, I asked the Mak’Tor for a cybernetic replacement.  Thank the Maker that Mak’Tor cybernetics were as good as the Hapan that the Vhal’Dan employed.  Of course, the irony of why they had such good replacements was not lost upon me either…

“As many of you know, the Force does not obey the same ‘rules’ as matter.  With the Force as your ally, you can move objects that are many times your own mass, usually with little effort.”  I continued, once again thankful for Master Chillum’s advice.

After the surgery, the pains that I had experienced were gone, and for that I was thankful.  But a small part of me was wistful; I was quickly running out of flesh and blood extremities.  And, of course, the ever-present sporadic glitches that I’d come to accept as the norm.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”  Looking over the collected younglings’ heads towards the back of the exercise studio, I beckoned to one of the other adults in the room.  “Jorya, would you please join me upon the mats?”  With a smile upon her face, she moved gracefully into the center of the room opposite me.  “Younglings, please welcome Koawan Jorya Fah ni’Vih’Torr, my daughter.”

Evidently by the applause, word of her and Ken’s exploits had made the rounds; the younglings’ were impressed to see one of the famous koawans that had helped as a liaison between the Mak’Tor and the Sons of Kessel.  With a smile on her red lips, Jorya first bowed deeply to me and then turned to face the class and gave them a bow as well.
“Master.  Younglings.  I am both pleased and honored to be here.”  Here smile deepened briefly.  “M’Tzigon is beautiful.”

Winking at Jorya, I continued.  “Students, as I was saying: with the Force as your ally, size does not matter.  Look at my daughter and then me.  Who do you think weighs more?”  Jorya’s smile widened and laughter echoed throughout the studio from the younglings.  And, almost as one, a shout was raised.

“YOU!”

I nodded, coming to stand next to my daughter, her montrals almost to the top of my head.  “Very good!  You are, of course right.  I am about 135 kilograms—”

“140.”  Coughed Jorya.  I caught her blue eyes looking at me sideways, her lips trembling with barely contained laughter.  And again the younglings erupted with mirth.  I couldn’t contain my own smile.

“…OK, 140.”  Admittedly, I’d taken up Karm and Arnor’s offer of nightly dinner prior to them leaving and then later with Kage Silman while he practiced Water Forms with me.  And, with the events surrounding my leg, I’d been an almost daily fixture at the Mak’Tor exercise stadium.  I figured what I couldn’t fix with my leg, I would supplement with the rest of my body…

The last thought caused my smile to slip briefly but seeing the humor in the younglings’ eyes helped to buoy my spirits.  “As Koawan Fah so generously pointed out, I am over twice her mass.  However, when she and I Push on one another with the Force, you will see how the two will cancel each other out, regardless of the differences between us.”  She and I were about the same strength in the Force, or at least we were when last we checked.  Of course, that was when we were last on Sekot, months ago… I faced the Togruta.  “Koawan Fah, I will use just a basic Force Push but I won’t let you know just how powerful it will be; I’ve only this to say: be prepared.”  I winked at her again, whispering.  “Jorya, ready?”

“Ready, Father.”  She replied, her eyes suddenly serious.  I could feel her collecting the Force around her, her body and mind fortifying against my incoming Push.  With an almost imperceptible nod letting her know when to begin, I propelled a powerful Force Push towards my daughter.  Expectantly, it hit Jorya’s, both Pushes held in abeyance momentarily.  At that, both Jorya and I smiled.

Suddenly, Jorya’s Force Push exploded forward, like a ship ripped from its moorings by a tempest.  With only a split second to prepare, I created a Force Shield to counter.  Or rather, I tried; even as I defended, Jorya’s Force Push hit me, somewhat mitigated, thank the Maker.  But the end result still sent me airborne.

As I was thrown backwards, I curled into the Force wave, back-flipping before coming to rest on the mat, but at least on my feet.  Even before I’d straightened up, Jorya was almost on top of me, her face contorted with concern, fear in her eyes.  “Dad!”  Her voice was unusually high.  Laying her hands upon me, I could feel the Force flowing into me with Healing weaves.  Grateful, I nodded my head, feeling stronger despite the unsteadiness of my legs.  …Damned cybernetics… Regardless of how good the tech, I still was experiencing the occasional said glitch.  “Bio-synthetic feedback loops” I was told.  Apparently, I was one of the few individuals in the galaxy that didn’t have 100% compatibility with cybernetic replacements.

“Father…are you sure you’re alright?”  Even though her face looked calm, I could tell by the tightness in her eyes that she was still fearful, afraid that she’d accidentally hurt me.

“Dear One, I’m fine, really.”  I smiled to emphasize my composure.  I cut off a laugh as I turned from my daughter back to the class.  “That, younglings, is what happens when two Force-users of differing strength employ telekinesis against one another.”  Looking out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jorya adopt a look of serenity but I could tell from her presence in the Force that she was anything but.  Still, like me, she kept up outward appearances and even helped me finish the class.

As the younglings exited the studio, Jorya spoke in turn to each one as they approached her, most wanting to know more about her and Koawan Kenneniah Mack and their achievements.  Patiently she answered as many questions as she was allowed while I took a seat on one of the benches in the studio, rubbing my legs where flesh met cybernetics.  Shortly, as the doors closed, Jorya keyed the locking mechanism and came over to sit by my side.

“Dad…now that we’re alone, are you certain that you’re OK?”  She put a hand upon my shoulder.  “I didn’t mean to do that, I w—”  Smiling, I cut her off.

“I know you didn’t Dear One.  And yes, I assure you that I’m fine.  This may surprise you but I’m getting old.”  She playfully scoffed at that, her concern disappearing behind a quiet laugh while she put an arm around me, or rather as far as her arm would go.  In this case: not very far.  “Jorya…you know what this means don’t you?”  Her face suddenly inquisitive, she briefly shook her head.  “It means…that what your Mother and I have been telling you is true: that your potential in the Force is closer to your Mother’s.  You’ve grown stronger than me.”  I let that sink in.

“…But then, Father…I…I could have really hurt you then…”  Again, the fear around her eyes appeared.  …Dammit, that was not what I wanted her to think about…  I held up my hands hoping to stop her from thinking…that.

“No, no, Dear One.  That’s not what I meant.  I’ve never been particularly strong in the Force, less than middling to be honest.”  I slowly, patiently smiled, wrapping my arm around her, completely enveloping her slender shoulders.  “You will be almost as strong as your Mother.  And you’ve taken those first steps.”  When she lowered her head, I gently cupped her chin with my hand.  “I.  Am.  Proud.  Of.  You.”  My smile broadened and I looked straight into her blue eyes.  “…But don’t think for one moment that I’m going to be easy on you now.”  I winked.

Laughing appreciatively, she hugged me, mindful of her montrals.  “I’d be careful if I were you, Dad.  After all, I have it on good authority that I’m stronger than you are!”  With the mischievous look in her eyes, I was fiercely reminded of D’Aylanna; it made me love them both all the more.  Standing, I offered Jorya my arm.

“…Well, let me remind you of something that your Grandfather Kazic told me: ‘youth and vigor will always lose to age and treachery.’”  And sharing a laugh, we walked out, heading towards the Concordia Gardens, sharing as much time as we could before Jorya left with D’Aylanna to meet my wife’s “old friend.”

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-Doubt, Part II

We were halfway down the long, wide oval cargo corridor, naked industrial steel rusted and greasy with age.  I stopped dead, my hand moving swiftly to block Jorya from going any further…

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

At the other end of the corridor the cargo lift was approaching…an untameable tide of primal power rising with it.

I stared wide-eyed at what I felt, a glance at D’Aylanna revealed a frantic expression.  I turned to Jorya.  “Run Dear One, run and do not stop.”

Confusion and disappointment etched across her features as the tide rose higher.  “Run, what…from what?”

“She’s too inexperienced; she can’t even sense it!  RUN JORYA!”  D’Aylanna screamed igniting her sabre.

Jorya searched our faces for some hint but saw only the naked fear, realizing this was no time to argue.  She turned and ran back the way we had come.

The tide was nearly upon us, the early breaks flicked sprays of raw power even at this distance.

The lift doors started to open.

“It can’t be…” D’Aylanna whispered.

I ignited both my sabres and strengthened my stance to hold back the ocean.

“Shakal…” D’Aylanna said quietly as the figure appeared between the parting doors, an enormous human figure clad in light-eating midnight armor…a sword black as death in one hand, a rifle accented with thin lines of glowing blood red metal in the other.  

The only reason that I knew that he’d moved was the displaced air as atmosphere rushed to fill the vacuum.  That…and the…sound.  

The wet, grisly sounds of flesh separated, blood streaming down, hitting the floor, ruptured tissue ripping, hot viscera pouring from the nearly bisected abdomens.  Even as the sounds reached my ears, the scene was one of utter horror as a gruesome tableau assaulted my eyes.

Laying in what seemed to be a lake of ever-widening blood were D’Aylanna and Jorya, bodies…eviscerated, their eyes staring blankly in death.  Even as the scream rose from my lungs, something stopped any and all sound from emerging from my mouth.  And as I looked down, I saw that the hulking sword of the black figure had impaled me, armored hands turning the blade even now as I watched, helplessly.  I knew, knew that the only reason I was cogent was the pain.  And when I raised my head, I had to shake my head.  The figure’s head was no longer concealed by his midnight-black helmet, so when my eyes locked onto his, I felt yet another shiver down my spine.  What I saw was…a pair of remarkable hazel eyes: red surrounded by brown and rimmed with green.  …By the Maker…

I stared into my own face.  My doppelganger smiled a wicked grin, showing a mouthful of teeth.  The wide face had my muscular shaved jowels, the brown goatee sporadically peppered with short white hair.  Unlike me, the left eye was not a cybernetic replacement.  
But most shocking of all, he (…I…) spoke:

“You are at fault, you betrayed them.”

Even as the black blade cut deeper into my abdomen, the edge slicing into my lungs, I was somehow able to speak.  “…how…why…?”  And, again, my doppelganger spoke.

“Isn’t it obvious?  Because you are weak.  Because you are their burden.  The Hapan, the Togruta, the Singer Sage, the Vhal’Dan, the Mak’Tor.  You’re not a Jedi…you are an embarrassment…a liability…and a curse…”  

Turning the blade, the razor edge grinding along the bones of my spine, my doppelganger’s smile disappeared, a look of disgust replacing the iniquitous humor upon his face.  I felt the quillions of the crossguard bury itself into my torn stomach.  Hefting me effortlessly, he lifted me bodily so that I was face-to-face with him.

“You are an abortion that lived; you never should have survived, much less lived this long.  You will kill them, all of them.  Your family, your friends, your comrades.  Even the dead lament their association with you.”

Punctuating each proclamation was a vision of those named: D’Aylanna, Jorya, Karm, Arnor, Ken, Jaim, Pranay, Silman.  G’av…Kazic.  My eyes began to blur, my ears straining to hear but for the silence of the grave.  But before death took me, he said one last thing:

“...but the galaxy is self-correcting.  Such abominations as you are fated for oblivion.  But better to succumb to nothingness than to cause their deaths…”

And with absolute certainty, I could feel the truth of his words…

            <<<<< >>>>>

Starting myself awake, I inhaled deeply, sweat soaking my brow, my body, my bed.  Running my hands through my short hair, my fingers came away sopping wet.  Slowly, my head sank into my hands, my body still shaking, the words of my dream doppelganger fresh in my mind.  And slowly, I raised my eyes to the dresser at the foot of the bed, expectation filling my mind.

There, as always following the nightmares, was the dagger, naked and unsheathed upon the dresser top.  Only this time, it had been joined by the black marble that Karm had given me upon his return.  Staring at them, the horrific visions of my nightmare foremost on my mind, I found myself making yet another decision that I hadn’t realized that I’d been vacillating on.  And with both D’Aylanna and Jorya away—the Maker send that they were safe—now presented an opportunity of necessity.

…You will kill them, all of them…

I closed my eyes, hoping to dispel the knot that had formed within my stomach.  Because…I worried that it was true.  That…my weakness would betray me, betray them.  That…the doubt that I forced down was valid.

…They left without you for a reason…

Even as the thought formed, I crushed it mercilessly…but not before the damage had been done.  …dammit…

And for hours, I sat on the bed, sleep forgotten, the dark night of M’Tzigon no longer a comfort but rather a chasm that threatened to overwhelm me with my reservations, my fears, my failures…

And as the sun finally peaked over the M’Skigon Mountains, I had made up my mind.  Dressing hastily, I made my way to one of the many communications centers within the Sierra suburbs.  Sitting in one of the privacy booths, I keyed in my ident-code and call destination.  As the holofeed attempted a connection, I made use of the time, going over last-minute details.  

“Department of Cognation.  How may I direct your inquiry.”  The face in the holofeed was that of a young, blond lady, the robes of a teidowan evident even through the grainy reception of the ‘feed, due to the distance.  She sounded dispassionately polite and professional, if a bit haughty.  …Wonderful, a “gatekeeper”… I thought.

“Yes.  Please connect me to Master Gray Monoceros.”  I waited patiently, knowing what was coming next.

“…I’m sorry, but Master Monoceros is busy.  Would you like to leave a message?”  Her pleasant mask was still in place but by the clipped tones of her voice, I knew that she was reciting a prepared answer.

“Teidowan, I am Maenowan Zearic Vih’Torr.  I need to get ahold of Master Monoceros immediately.  Please put me through to him.”  I took a chance that maybe my position as maenowan would grant me some concession.  Meanwhile, I kept my face tranquil and placid.

“…I’m sorry maenowan but Master Monoceros is currently indisposed.”  And although her mask was firmly affixed, her tone hinted at concealed contempt.  …Well, it was worth a try… I thought to myself.  Still, I needed to divest myself of this gatekeepter.

“Look teidowan.  I know for a fact that Master Monoceros is available during…”  I double-checked the local time on Sekot.  “…Last Supper.  I guarantee you that he’s in his study, reading up on perceptual Force phenomenon or on this years favored podracers.”  I mentally shook my head, tired of having to jump through the proverbial hoops.  “He’s sitting in his soft, Maker-forsaken syncloth recliner, facing east so that he can take advantage of the natural light pouring in over his shoulder from the transparisteel wall.”

She paused, clearly recognizing the fact that I was intimately familiar with the room.  Trying to not deliberately sigh, I added.  “If you tell him that ‘G’av’s swoop-racing buddy’ needs to talk to him, I guarantee you that he’ll be most pleased that you disturbed him.”

This time, her pause could be felt over the lightyears, lasting what felt like eons.  Finally, she seemed to come to a decision.  “…One moment please.  Maenowan.”  The last she said as almost an afterthought.  And as I waited, some light, peaceful music played as the holofeed went black.  I wanted to take a lightsaber to whomever had written the melody.  Almost instantly, I was regretful of my irritation, my conscious sounding remarkably like D’Aylanna’s voice as it castigated me.  Instead, I smoothed my gray robes, needlessly adjusting my Water Warrior rank insignia and started humming the tune playing over the ‘feed.  After a moment I caught myself and, smiling sardonically, stopped as I continued to wait.

When next the ‘feed switched to real time, the face that met me was no longer that of the young, blond teidowan.  Instead, it was that of a thin-faced man, gray streaking his long hair and his recently-grown beard.  His serious eyes looked harder than I remembered, and the bags underneath his eyes were more pronounced.  But the dark brown eyes were the same as my friend’s despite not having seen him for almost three years.

“Jaim!  How are you my friend?  Still giving lectures for mental acuity?”  It really was good to see him…which made me somewhat uncomfortable to ask what it is I required…

“…Zearic.”  Slowly, his thin lips broke out in a smile, good humor mirrored in his slanted eyes.  “You’ve gained weight, I see.  Have you been doubling up on supper from both D’Aylanna and Jorya?”  His scathing wit was as sharp as ever.

Laughing appreciatively, I shook my head.  “Looks like I’ve been eating for both of us.  You’re looking thinner, my friend.  I thought that…Ti’Ilandra—”  Thankfully my pause was imperceptible as I fought to recall Jaim’s companion’s name.  “—was taking care of you?”  At the mention of Ti’s name, Jaim’s smile widened further than I’d ever seen the stoic Gray Master smile.

“Ah, yes…she prefers her men…slender.  And with a beard.”  Well, that explained that.  “So…to what do I owe the pleasure, Zearic?  I’m sure that you didn’t just call to reminisce…”  I knew that the distance between Sekot and M’Tzigon was too distant for Jaim to read my mind, regardless of how powerful his mental abilities were…not that he needed them.  He was right.

Squaring my shoulders, I thought about the two black items Karm identified as “oblivion artifacts.”  I thought about how my nightmares echoed my own concerns, this last one being the worst yet.  And now with D’Aylanna, Jorya, and Karm gone, busy about their own affairs, I thought that this time might be the best to find the answers that I’d been asking myself for some time.

That…and to keep them as safe as I possibly could.  The bloody tableau of torn bodies, eviscerated and ruined, D’Aylanna’s and Jorya’s eyes staring unseeing in death haunted me.  All of this went through my mind in an instant.  Locking my gaze onto Jaim’s eyes, I resolutely continued.

“My friend…I need your help.”

[Karmack]

Ah, more to this story I sense there is...  :-)

As always I love the details, but the self-doubt...   Its something that must appear often among force-users, especially those who associate with someone who is very strong.  Its an interesting aspect of Zearic's psyche that could impact his self-confidence as well as his performance.  That he is seeing himself as a "black armor" destroying all he loves... 

yeah, that's pretty nasty.

next thing you know he's going to start having that dream where you show up at work naked....  ;-)

[Lord_S_Gray]

Like a darker much more twisted version of the Cave on Dagobah...actually killing his own family because of his weakness...there is such irony there given he has just admitted to Jorya she is stronger than him...his weakness destroys their strength. Zearic is not in a good way, psychically or mentally, the little thought "…They left without you for a reason…" I think really encapsulated all that build up from the cybernetic issues and ageing in a very simple but horribly painful way - really well done.

I guess the issue now is...when you go looking for trouble....

[Lord_S_Gray]

“You betray your People…”

“They have betrayed themselves,”

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

------------------------------------------------------------- 15 JUNE 2018 ---------------------------------------------------------------------

[Karmack]

LSG, that's just ... evil.  :-)

[TheDutchman]

15 JUNE 2018

LSG, that's just ... evil.  :-)

Lol QFT^^

A week cannot go by quickly enough 

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-Conundrum

“You’ve got to be joking…”  I tried to keep the irritation from my voice.  And summarily failed.

“…I’m sorry, maenowan.  But the records that you’ve requested are sealed.”  The elderly face of the Vhal’Dan Librarian looked to be carved from ferrocrete for all the emotion that she displayed.  Not from any haughtiness or arrogance but rather an adherence to her position.  She was master of her domain, the literal Keeper of the Vault.  And she knew what was required of her: a woman of incredibly strong convictions, she was utterly unflappable.  Maenowan and Chief Archivist Fretyln Uhdea was a professional through-and-through, as sturdy as the clean natural Sekot granite foundation and columns supporting the Vhal’Dan Hall of Archives.

And a roadblock that I had to somehow circumvent.  Or convince.

But the latter seemed about as impossible as convincing a Toydarian to trade at a loss.  “By whose authority are these records sealed, maenowan?”  I asked, my demeanor the very example of tranquility, the only sign that I was at all perturbed was my frequent, unnecessary adjustments to my Water Warrior sigil.  Even as Jaim and I towered over Fretyln (Jaim especially), it was the Chief Archivist that loomed large in the enormous repository, her light gray tunics covered with Ansata symbols indicating devotion to knowledge and learning.

Arching her brow, the Siniteen maenowan adopted an almost amused expression.  “Now maenowan…you know that I cannot divulge that information.”  Her dry demeanor was almost dripping with her pedantic tone.  Standing tall (well, for her; she was only 1.4 meters) she suddenly rebuffed any further inquest.  “Now, maenowan, Master Gray, if you’ll excuse me, I must attend business for the Library Shareholders.”  And with that, she walked briskly away, her gray dress lightly swishing against her tunic and obi.

“…Charming woman.”  Jaim deadpanned, his own robes a reflection of his status as a high-ranking master.  For all the good it had done us.  “Zearic…are you sure that you are the right path?”  The tall, slender man placed his hand upon my shoulder, his brown eyes concerned.

Shaking my head, I exhaled.  “…Honestly Jaim…I don’t know.  But this was the best lead that I was able to find during transport from M’Tzigon.”  I had had to charter a fastship to Sekot in order to meet up with Jaim, especially since my own piloting skills were…poor.  And with D’Aylanna, Karm, Jorya, and Ken otherwise off-planet, there was little choice but to hire one.  Besides, D’Aylanna had taken Fenris’ Dirge with her and Jorya.  However, the Maker looks after children, small animals, and maenowans who have little skill flying.  Thankfully, Sam’El’Mack, one of the Men-at-Arms who was a distant relation to Karm was able to help me with my problems.

Since Sam was off-rotation from his squadron, he was available to take me, the caveat that I cover expenses more than fair (he absolutely refused any sort of payment, insisting that “any friend of Master Karmack was a friend to him”).  And as a passenger I made the most of the time while we were in hyperspace, doing as much research as I could from the datapad that I’d connected to the Bar’leth University Library where I’d first learned what little I did about the Tenebris Pugione.  That was one of the main reasons for me returning to Sekot: I’d exhausted my searches over at the university and thought that the ancient Vhal’Dan Archives would yield fruit.

Or so I’d hoped.  Thus far, I’d been thwarted at every turn: from the apparent lack of information, to the suspicious omissions within the databases, and finally the uncooperative bureaucrats whose sole purpose was to tell me to “check with someone else.”  And now: this.  Another gatekeeper.  …Dammit…

My problem was…I knew what I wanted to do, what I needed to do.  Unfortunately, the next step also involved using my friend.  And even as I thought of the ramifications of doing so, the horrifying vision of D’Aylanna’s and Jorya’s bloody and rent bodies haunted me, eclipsing everything else.  Including using Jaim’s abilities to get what I needed…

“We need to find another librarian, preferably someone in ‘middle management.’” I told Jaim as I watched Fretyln disappear among the rows of databanks.  We’d figured upon the distinct possibility that our inquiries would be met with adversity, just not to the…degree and person of the Chief Archivist.  That fact alone made me even more suspicious.  Why would such chronicles be prohibited?  And what was exactly being hidden?  Regardless, I intended to find out.

Even if it meant bending the rules.  But like Kazic had always told me: “Take what you want and pay for it.”  Knowing that Fretlyn would never be…susceptible...to Jaim’s Mind tricks, we figured that we should look for a human.  Jaim and I split up, both of us vigilant for our target: one of the floor librarians.  Unsurprisingly, it was Jaim who found one first.  Pinging my comm, I quickly joined him at one of the more private datanodes, this one actually having a monitor instead of the normal holoprojector. 

Sitting at the station, the young looking librarian was keying in his ident-code, his body rigid as the computer performed a quick retinal scan.  He then rose from the seat, making room for Jaim.  I grabbed a chair from the nearby cubicle, returning just as Jaim was administering his last instructions.

“You will forget that we were ever here except to inquire after the Vhal’Dan Economics Summit from Telerath.”  His monotone was quiet, his eyes intense on the librarian.  “You’ve done good work and will end your day feeling satisfied.”

“You wanted to know about the Banking Summit on Telerath.  I’ve done a good job.”  The librarian smiled at that, his blue eyes slightly glazed.  Then, he regained focus, once again himself.  “…Will there be anything else, Master Monoceros?”  When Jaim declined, the librarian smiled professionally and turned to leave.  “Maenowan.”  He inclined his head at me while he left.  I quickly returned the gesture, once again thankful for Jaim’s cooperation in this.

“Thanks Jaim.  I could not have done that without you.”  I sat in the space that Jaim had left for me next to his own chair, the two of us creating a wall of flesh and gray robes as we mined the dataterminal.  “Sorry again for having to ask that of you.”  As I sat, my cybernetic legs started to tingle mildly, indicative of a bio-synthetic loop.  Ignoring it like I always did, I started entering all pertinent information.

“…Don’t mention it, brother.  Given what you’ve told me, I’d say you have good reasons.”  His quiet voice carried no further than the two of us.  As I’d said before, Jaim could convince a Trandoshan to take up pacifism.  And during the interim years, his mental abilities had gotten even stronger.  That librarian would have no memory whatsoever of Jaim’s Suggestions, except that he’d come by them as his own choice.  It would take someone of indomitable will to resist Jaim’s Mind tricks.

Readjusting my seat to get more comfortable, I finished entering all of the information for the search parameters.  Punching the “submit” entry, I waited as the datanode compiled the files.

With the librarian’s credentials, this time we were not met with the now-familiar response of “Records sealed; please contact the Chief Archivist for further instruction.”  Instead, an entire dropdown menu containing dozens of entries were available.  Prefacing each was a note, usually some iteration of “File corrupted” or “File redacted.”  And beside every one of them was the author of the datafile: then-Kage Kazic Ovarug.

“…By the Maker…”  Jaim’s voice couldn’t hide the surprise he obviously felt.  I could empathize; that was the last thing that I’d expected. 

“…Why would Kazic have sealed these records?  That makes no sense at all…”  I rubbed my beard in thought.  “…Well, let’s see what’s in them…”  Leaning over the dataterminal, I opened up the files, reading through them, searching for everything associated with the Oblivion material and the Tenebris Pugione.  What came up was…surprising.  I had expected a text-only entry, given that these had been sealed; instead, the file had a holovid.  Determinedly, I activated the ‘vid.

It was Kazic.  Only as I’d never seen him: instead of the gray and white hair that I’d always remembered him having, his long hair and goatee was jet-black, gathered up in a top-knot.  And while his shoulders weren’t as broad as mine, he cast an imposing figure in his black and dark gray robes.  And almost incongruous and immediately noticeable against his Vhal’Dan accruements and the usual Jedi paraphernalia, hanging from a necklace was a deep black orb, clearly made of Oblivion material.  When he spoke, it was slightly different from the voice in my memory: stronger, deeper, and without any coughing.

“…I’ve been able to ascertain this much: Ari’s people are able to manipulate Oblivion stone, infusing it with a synthesis of quantum-entanglement and the Force whereupon the object in question is then able to imprint upon those individuals that are originally present at initiation.  While I’ve only been partially successful in duplicating a peer-to-peer communications ansible, I’ve been unable to fabricate any of the material.”  Suddenly, his face fell slightly, the stoic professionalism of his voice replaced by a much more subdued tone.  “…The last time that I spoke with Ari we…I was…terse.  And while I know that my actions were the right choices, I…I’m afraid that she has…closed herself off to me.  And while I’m certain that she would talk to my wife, I’m afraid that Saani…ith…er…ange…no…nger…i…ame…”  The rest was lost in static, even the picture suddenly switching to black.

I couldn’t believe what I’d seen and heard.  A youthful Kazic was odd in and of itself…but the fact that he knew about the Oblivion…stone?  And what had happened to Saani?  He’d told me about her but not much… And that other name…

“…Incredible…”  Jaim’s quiet voice brought me back to the present.  Blinking repeatedly, I sat back and crossed my arms.

“So…Kazic was at least aware of the Oblivion materials.  And—at least according to him—it was able to be engineered.”  I turned my head towards the taller man.  “I remember him speaking about his third wife, Saani, but the other… Did you ever hear Kazic speak about someone named ‘Ari?’”  Jaim had been one of the teidowans that Kazic had tutored during his last years as a teacher.

“…No.  Saani, yes.  But I don’t recall an ‘Ari…’”  His shallow cheeks puffed out as he exhaled in frustration.  “…Zearic, did you notice how the ‘vid suddenly diminished into static?  That is telltale of deliberate erasure.”  He would know; after G’av had died, Jaim had also become quite proficient in data-tech…better than me, to be honest.  The fierce look in his eyes was mirrored by his rigid demeanor.  “…I wonder if they are all like this…”  His voice trailed off as Jaim looked intent and lost in thought.

“Let’s check the other files.  By the looks of it, this one with Kazic was the largest datafile…”  That was disconcerting; it told me that chances were that the other files were shorter, most likely the result of erasure. 

I cursed under my breath; the other files had been altered, if not expunged altogether.  All except the last, which had only a handful of words that had survived the erasure.  Another holovid, Kazic was once again speaking but only fragmentary syllables.  “…ani…kil…alens…isit…obro…kai…”  The rest degenerated into complete blackness.  Nothing else within the files were able to play.

“…What do you think, Jaim?”  Having listened intently, I could’ve sworn that there was…something…in that last bit…”  I replayed it several times, listening intently…and hearing nothing, nothing that would elicit anything concrete.  …Dammit…

“Obroa-Skai.”  Jaim said suddenly, his voice certain, definitive.  I replayed the file once more while Jaim stared intently at me.  “If Kazic had needed more information concerning this…Oblivion material, there is no better place to look.”  Jaim rubbed at his graying temples, closing his eyes while drawing the Force for what little Healing he could muster.

“…I think you’re right.  And it makes sense: Obroa-Skai is supposed to have as close to a complete galactic record within its information repositories.”  Something still didn’t feel right.  These files had contained virtually nothing.  Why seal them at all?  What was being hidden and why?  Who would want to systematically obliterate Vhal’Dan history?

Something caught my eye as I was perusing the files’ enumeration.  I suddenly felt as if the floor had gave ‘way beneath my feet, opening up to an endless drop.  I deliberately tightened up on the small, almost innocuous addendum.  It was only a short sentence, seemingly insignificant.  For me: I could feel the galaxy shift.

“Sealed by order of Seventh Speaker elect, Master Gray D’Aylanna Vih’Torr.”

“…Let’s get the hell out of here, Jaim.”  I shutdown the dataterminal without a backwards glance.  A tempest was raging in my head, questions echoing through my mind.  I wasn’t certain which was worse: that my wife had intentionally not told me or as just a matter of consequence.  And for all of the answers that I was hoping, it seemed that my hopes now lay at Obroa-Skai.

But between what I hoped to find and what I was apprehensive to discover, I could only wonder again why D’Aylanna hadn’t told me…

…They left without you for a reason…

Again the thought came unbidden.  Gritting my teeth as we took one of the hyperloops to the spaceport where Jaim’s small light freighter, Dualism’s Soul, was berthed, I fought with my own inner deamons.  I knew that Jaim could feel my inner turmoil but he was good enough not to ask.  Nor did I volunteer anything.

Even as the vortex of hyperspace bathed the entire cockpit in a white-blue hue, I remained silent.  Too much: from the nightmares, to my own self-doubt, to my wife’s secrets I felt as if I were drowning.  I needed answers.

Hopefully Obroa-Skai would provide them.

[Karmack]

So, the plot thickens!  That Kazic would know about Oblivion constructs shouldn't surprise me ... but D'Aylanna?   Oy...

And Zearic.  I hope this quest doesn't become a self-fulfilling prophecy!  Oy...

[Lord_S_Gray]

Interlude-Conundrum
But the latter seemed about as impossible as convincing a Toydarian to trade at a loss. 

LOL loved this!  As always full of cool little details on the frustrations of bureaucracy.   

Seems Kazics studies hit a road block...in more ways than one...something left behind for Zearic to follow, or something he wanted buried but couldn't quite bring himself to dispose of.  Actually considering the recent posting of What You Leave Behind Chapter 9 its an interesting parallel to Karmack and Odjina's scene. And D'Alyanna...well she did hear KAzics death bed confession....but these Grey seem to have a habit of redacting and hiding their histories...though perhaps there is good reason for it.

[Karmack]

LOL loved this!  As always full of cool little details on the frustrations of bureaucracy.   

Seems Kazics studies hit a road block...in more ways than one...something left behind for Zearic to follow, or something he wanted buried but couldn't quite bring himself to dispose of.  Actually considering the recent posting of What You Leave Behind Chapter 9 its an interesting parallel to Karmack and Odjina's scene. And D'Alyanna...well she did hear KAzics death bed confession....but these Grey seem to have a habit of redacting and hiding their histories...though perhaps there is good reason for it.

That's how we keep everyone else convinced we're good guys...  LOL

[Lord_S_Gray]

What is a Gobril?



For everyone who had ever wondered!
---
A Gobril is a small marsupial - a typical Gobril weighs 2.5 to 5 kilograms (5.5 to 11.0 lb) and is 40 to 54 centimetres (16 to 21 in) long with a 25-to-30-centimetre-long (9.8 to 11.8 in) tail.

Originally based on an animal called a Quokka which used aetheric shadowing to disguise itself from predators, the Aethan Technocracy enhanced the Quokka into a Gobril using standard bio enhancement (increase muscle/bone density, improved metabolic and respiratory efficiency, advanced cognitive capacity) and dramatically boosted its aetheric abilities through selective breeding. 

Gobrils now typically utilize the aether to defend against predators by creating up to 8 (average 5-6) aetheric illusions of themselves while diminishing their psychical bodies aetheric presence. By aetheric echo and thermal projection they also ensure their illusions have heat and sound signatures. 

Following the Collapse, Guardian Era children often sought out Gobrils trying to 'catch' the real one in a desire to pet the animal.  This resulted in them developing significant abilities in distinguishing between aetherc illusion and reality from the age of 4-5.  The Gobril population of the Valley soon adapted to this 'game' as they were rewarded by the children that 'caught' them with fruits and nuts - as a result Gobrils are now semi-domesticated, often living in or around barns, benefiting from the protection of Aethan buildings. Guardians themselves studied their abilities and as part of their training in hunting (See Arts of Aertemisaea) are taught to replicate their abilities.

Herbivorous, they have adapted their diet in response to co-habitation with Aethans, eating plants and insect that farmers deign undesirable among crops.

Post the Devastation their population is difficult to determine, given most sightings are typically illusions - Chiss scans estimate the population at approximately 200 across the Valley concentrated on abandoned farms where they shelter with the larger Gormin.
///

- Our Home - A Detailed Description of the Geology, Climatic Systems, Flora, Fauna, Goddesses (and their numerous interactions) of Our Home - by Adaea with contributions from Kiraea, Lyaea, Melron and Valens.

[Karmack]

LSG, I love this encyclopedia entry!  :-)  This is EXACTLY the kind of thing you'd expect to find on some kind of wiki somewhere, looking up information, maybe in a library or an elementary school. 

And the authorship is perfect.  LOL

Gobril.  Need to remember that one...   

[TheDutchman]

Yes, to echo Karm: the "voice" of this entry was just pure enjoyment    Maybe next we can "look up" vornyx next