A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
*Throughout our lives, we frequently find ourselves in situations where the 'right' choice to make is not immediately apparent. When those situations arise, the reason for the difficulty in identifying the right choice can always be traced back to you. If you do not know what the right choice is, it means you do not fully understand either yourself, or the potential consequences of the choices before you. In either case, it is merely a question of whether or not you are willing to take the time to consider the outcomes of the possibilities presented to you.
The proof is that the right choice is the choice that brings to pass what you want to happen. Thus, the right choice is always variable. The person who has the power to decide what should happen is you. So, if you don't know yourself, you don't know what you want to happen, hence you cannot identify the 'right' choice. And, if you don't know which options will bring about the nearest result to what you want to happen, then you also cannot identify the 'right' choice.
Whether you make the right choice after you have identified it, or whether you take the time to identify the right choice in the first place, are different questions entirely.
Adi's hasty attempt to defuse the situation is a good indication of what he feels the right choice is. There were, after all, many options presented to him, just as there are now to me. What do we learn about Adi from his response? What will be learned about me from my response?
He may or may not persuade the troopers to disarm; they haven't lowered their weapons yet. Though it's unclear to me if he's their supervisor or not, he's definitely speaking with authority here. Whether his delivery of orders to a squad he's not the boss of gets him Order 66'd or not also remains to be seen. The RDMC hospitality team has obviously been put on edge by our presence, and the aggressive arrival of the troopers with weapons at the ready has nudged the already-stirring pot. A grin spreads across my face at the thought of all the choices being presented to everyone here, and at the many different directions this web could sprial into. A prickle runs down my neck as I relish the atmosphere, and the Force swells around me in response. The Force, which thrives on the interactions of all living beings, is most truly alive in moments like this.
Adi's stepped away from me as a part of his effort to dissuade the troopers. And since he's standing between us and the troopers, I don't feel much sense of urgency to ready a response just yet. In the meantime, I turn my head to indicate the recipient of my next question. That'll be the only other person here who's spoken -- whispered utterance notwithstanding -- which is the scowling Zabrak looming over us. Coincidentally, the only other dark sider here. I'm somewhat curious about his story, but maybe that's a discussion to be had over a cup of caf. (Also, on a related side note, do you know how I know there's definitely going to be caf somewhere to be found here? Because the doctors are spread thin, that's how I know. Magical elixir for keeping you going when you're overworked, that's what caf is.)
Anyways, my head-turning also involves a bit of neck-craning since he's about a quarter-meter taller than me.*
[/span] *It would only go to reinforce my suspicion that these light-siders have a non-preferential treatment policy that exists in name only when it comes to alignment, if that's the case.* "And if not, shouldn't that mean we'll be given the liberty of subduing them by force? After all, with an offensive gesture like this, they can in turn expect potentially violent opposition, if what Adi just told me was true."[/ul]
Warriors clash- Red and blue, their sabers aflight; Warriors clash! Up comes his guard, blocking the slash; Now face-to-face, see how they fight! Struggling, with no end in sight. Warriors' clash!
You Were My Brother
...For I loved you. We cared, we cried, we laughed, we fought, For I loved you. Pleading for it not to be true, "Anyone but you," I had thought, But this time I can help you not. For I loved you.
Vanquished Hero
The mid-afternoon sky of placid blue on the planet Takodana Illuminated with a red glow as the Republic worlds are destroyed, visible from the planet Takodana.
The howling of TIE Fighters shatters the tranquil scene, And their strafing run bites through buildings, into the very flesh of the planet Takodana.
Landing craft dart from space-to-ground for a sudden assault And their payloads of stormtroopers emerge, their first and last time onto the planet Takodana
FN-2199 fights, and in his victory march he sees his turncoat friend From the maelstrom of pain he gives a word: his envoi, on the planet Takodana.
Despite tremendous loss, Kylo Ren has managed to apprehend the girl of great repute To his shuttle, dark paces pass softly through the garden of bodies of those who rest on the planet Takodana.
*See, that was what I initially expected. Reassignment of staff, even outside of their field of expertise, to support the anti-plague efforts. It's a situation that's not far from mirroring what's happening here: somebody doing a job that needs done, even though their aptitude lies elsewhere. Who ever heard of a cyberneticist working with infectious diseases? Yet here we are, apparently. I bet he hates it. It'd be like if I suddenly had to take a crash-course in the Animal Friendship Force power, then got tossed in a gundark nest for practical application. I imagine if we do have the opportunity to have a consultation with him, he'll actually be grateful to us for giving him a chance to take an excursion back into his field of choice as a break from his current field of obligation. One imagines that we can use that to our advantage. It's not clear to me whether Dr. Bismarck is the aforementioned head cyberneticist or somebody else entirely, but I'm bemused by the suggestion to remove Devient before we meet with him due to personal preferences. Such an archaic idea of what makes for good manners is a clear indication of someone who's lost touch with reality. If I were of the Kel Dor species, or a victim of circumstances along the lines of Darth Vader, that'd be the equivalent of saying "If you'd like to speak to Dr. Bismarck, how about you just die instead?" Oh ... maybe that is what's being said. Does that mean it's a reliable statement when he says that they don't care about alignments? Official policy is non-discriminatory, but having said so out loud, *wink wink, nudge nudge*... That's fine, that's typical.*
[/span][/ul] *I didn't have the heart to break the news. If you're a person who wants to look me in the eye, you'll need a time-traveling device to go back a couple years, to before I lost them. But sitting down and having a nice discussion of our options seems like a good next step for Tal and me. Searching the ruins of the burned facility is one possibility. Seeing if we can't get our hands on some schematics, perhaps from related holobooks on the subject in the facility library, is another. Maybe we've got to make our way offworld to visit the supplier directly, since the stock would have gone up in flames. And the list goes on. Thing is, we've gone through the effort of coming here in person. It's only natural that we'd try to salvage the trip. Force knows our visit to Mandalore was a waste of time.*
[/b] you do is a waste of time."[/i][/font][/span] "I created you, didn't I? Was that a waste of time?" "Adi said he doesn't care who you are. I just wanted you to know that I don't care who you are, either." "...Thanks."
*Six to twelve months definitely throws a wrench in the whole 'outpatient procedure' that we'd been aspiring towards. Next best thing would be to speak to one of the personnel in a formal consultation session, so as long as any of them survived we could make do. Probably. After we see what we can find out in the more-or-less immediate time frame, I'll speak privately with Tal and -- *
[/i][/font][/span][/ul] *A voice echoes in my head; one that I've not heard for a long time.*
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[/i][/font][/span][/ul] *Which is true. The receptionist is being slowly being flanked from behind by three more individuals. My interest is truly piqued as a hulking alien shuffles forward, and the robed man, who up until we arrived had been doing a marvelous impersonation of a half-deflated balloon, walks towards us, past a spot of graffiti depicting the symbol of the Rebellion. The giant man scowls at us, but says nothing. He does some sign language for a walking carpet, though.
Isn't this starting to sound like a joke? 'Two humans, a mutant zabrak, and a wookiee all walk up to an elevator...' *
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[/i][/font][/span][/ul] *Uncalled for.
There are times I wish other people could hear the ridiculousness of what she says from time to time. Maybe I should have made a different kind of mask, I wouldn't have to take all this verbal abuse.*
[/i][/font][/span][/ul] *But as gear-grinding as it can be to deal with her, she does fulfill a few extremely useful purposes. No other mask would meet those needs as well as she does. But one can imagine quite a few other needs that different masks could meet, I suppose.
Without moving my head, I cast my gaze around. There's, conveniently enough, four of them and four of us. A pair of bats, one marble, one onyx, whirl overhead. I watch briefly as they circle each other, and to my surprise, alight on Tal's shoulders, one on either side. A chrome-shelled beetle makes its way over a dust-laden speeder parked nearby, looking for power cables to chew on. The dragon-man is nowhere to be seen, that's a little strange. Hallucinations, the lot of them. Not unexpected, either, now that Devient is awake.
That whole exchange took place at the speed of thought, and thought-time is fleeting. So there's been merely a small pause since my first words to Adi, and I continue out loud now, resuming the previous train of thought.*
*The crossing of the threshold by four Sith into the medical center entry level of the hangar, where dwell the clear and obvious signatures of light-siders aplenty, plus one other enigmatic creature who's probably deserving of a thorough analysis all unto himself, is a small step encumbered by the weight of tremendous symbolism. However, at present I am not at liberty to devote any time to unpacking all of the imagery and thematic undertones this action carries with it; this is intentionally left as an exercise for the reader.
You see, I'm a bit preoccupied by the approach of one of these light-siders, who unflinchingly makes his way before us and offers a salutation. There's another symbolic exercise, for extra credit. A slight inclination of my head to the left is all that testifies to the fact that I find the whole thing a bit odd.
For all their talk of servitude and praise of upholding the greater good, light siders don't tend to attend to mundane tasks such as this. Instead, with rare exceptions (present example included, of course), they gravitate towards focusing their attention on responsibilities of a magnitude appropriate to their station. One chuckles at the thought of Grandmaster Yoda deciding to give the Jedi Temple service staff the day off and unleashing his culinary talents upon the cantina menu. On the one hand, it's because you can just imagine how awful his stew must taste, even more so if he's out of practice in making it. But more to the point, it's because there are so many things that he's better suited to do than that. Train Younglings, sure; Council meeting, absolutely; private meditation, yes; go on a mission, if the occasion presents itself then by all means. But take over the kitchen duties? Unreal. That response is because we know, instinctively, that yes, there are important jobs that someone must do; but when it is a job that does not impose great prerequisites on who is qualified to perform it, then the least-qualified overall should be the ones doing it. That's why we feel discomfort when an over-qualified man stoops to a low level to do these things.
All this to say that anyone with any skill in Sense can tell that the man who greets us is certainly more than a mere receptionist. But he's doing the receptionist's job; and as long as he's electing to play the role, then it's almost obligatory that we point it out.
Spring in the desert To be followed by harvest. Born is Skywalker
Showdown on Utapau
General Grievous flares his robot arms, And lights his sabers, Kenobi to harm. When Obi-Wan drops the saber he prized, A blaster he declares, "Uncivilized."
Dark and Light
There is only peace The Force encapsulates me No such thing as peace
*Walking places has the ambivalent quality of revealing your destination to you long before you actually reach it. The downside is obvious: you're constantly reminded of how far you've yet to go every time you lift your gaze. But the advantages, though subtle, are present. You have plenty of time to anticipate your visit, for one thing. (And, let's be honest here, our minds wander so easily that there's plenty of time to think about a great number of things, perhaps none of which may be related to the destination at hand)
As conversation has lulled, I've allowed my mind to wander to the topic of the cybernetics we're after. Really, it's almost unthinkable that it took this long to develop the idea -- and I can't even claim credit for that idea. The fact of the matter is that, for both Tal and myself, the ability to incorporate a mental slave-link for our weapons is almost necessary. It's just good business: as it is now, I decide on the configuration of blades I want for Trogdor, and then I move my fingers and press the corresponding button sequence (there's nine buttons on that shaft so it's kind of like playing a musical instrument; hence why I don't utilize it much). Don't you realize how much faster electrons in a wire are than moving the muscles in a limb plus the mechanical activation of a stud? Why didn't we think of this earlier? It's not like technology has advanced significantly since I first constructed Trogdor, right?
We approach the facility, and I'm struck to the point of vocalizing.*
[/span][/ul] *Yeah, but we all know what they say about judging books by covers, beautiful sepulchres, et cetera. The facade does not denote the content, and for all it's worth this could be just a shell. No way to tell until we get there and see for ourselves. ...Actually, I could, if I took off Devient and scouted properly using my unrestricted Force Sight. I can see anything from anywhere (given enough time and effort), because I can See anything that the Force touches. But using surveillance would be a needless venture in this case; it's an insult to your abilities if you allocate them to a routine. You see, it's needless because we're not here to instigate an attack (although the words I spoke on Mandalore flash briefly through my head); we're here because we want to pay some money, get some cosmetic surgery done, and be on our way. Plus, it's needless because there's that whole song and dance about how powerful we are, and if you're truly powerful, then you don't use power needlessly, because then by your actions you undercut your own assessments about how powerful you are. I've been through all that before, I don't need to repeat myself.
Public entry to and from the Red Dawn Medical Center is conducted through the hanger bay. This is a massive, tiered structure, constituting a significant fraction of the area of the whole medical campus. Gotta have space for everyone to park their shuttles or speeders or whatever they got here in. And, as we encroach upon the facility, I heave an audible sigh. I know that we had Ielyn land where he did so that our ship would remain unmolested. But that doesn't ease the burden of knowledge that we walked all that way when we could have just landed here and been done with it. There is a silver lining: I got to see some Noghri. I've never seen them in person before; apparently they don't tend to leave Honoghr. I also got to see Curcebithin stumble when he failed to detect a small hole in the footpath, but that wasn't as much of a 'silver lining' as it was a 'come on man, you're embarassing me to be seen with you' type of thing.
Signage indicates to us that there is no ground floor access to the medical center, so we're relegated to taking an elevator up to the first level of the hangar bay. We cram into the car (Irrukiine in the back, Sith Lords in the front), the door hisses shut, and the container rumbles to life, raising us to our destiny. A thought that has struck me before comes to mind again, and this time I decide to mention it to Tal.*
[/i]? I've only ever heard of a red dawn being a negative omen. 'Come here for treatment and then when morning comes you probably die' is how I'd read into it. Doesn't make much sense, does it?"[/font][/span][/ul] *Which, then, to my great surprise, Galbakhor chuckles. I turn my head sharply to stare at him in surprise, and he hastily disguises it as a fit of coughing. Careful with that: they'll quarantine you here, puppy. There's a plague, haven't you heard?*[/font]
*The subjective nature of power doesn't mean that all is lost, nor does it mean that the truth behind it is any less objective. Still, I've given enough lecturing for now; pursuing those points is an exercise for another time. At Tal's musing -- as to whether I would be the one to orchestrate an event that changes his idea of freedom -- I'm afraid I can give no clear and direct answer. On the one hand, it's clear that my philosophies have evolved, and so the longer I stick around, the more inevitable it becomes that his ideas will likewise reshape in due time. On the other hand, I have no 'master architecture' in mind for Tal, because a freedom dictated to you by others is no freedom at all. So in response to an ambiguous question, what he receives in reply is an all-the-more-ambiguous and ominous silence of myself, hidden behind the faceless mask. 'Not enough yet' is a good answer to get. It confirms that we're on the right track, at least as far as what I interpreted our intention so far to be. And that track is always the easier one to follow, too. It's so much more straightforward than the alternative. There's only three things that you have to do, when your purpose is to acquire power.
The first is to gain strength.
For a relatively small city, the size of Nystao is still appreciable. But, thanks to the mercenary with a nerdy streak, we'd chosen to set down the ship in a hangar not far from the medical campus. And no city, especially not a capital city, is lacking in the appropriate signage guiding the way to such important places as hospitals. So, with just a moment to adjust our bearings and locate a battered signpost that survived the plague better than the Noghri, we're on our way. It's a hike, though.*
[/span][/ul] *I gesture in the corresponding direction, and then set off without waiting for confirmation. They'll keep up, I'm sure. Three and a half kilometers, if that signpost's to be trusted. We'll make it there before the top of the hour.
The second thing is to test your power periodically.*
[/font][/span] *I'm referring, of course, to the lizard-men who seem to be regarding us offworlders as a plague by any other name.* " - hope seems to be the special of the day here. In fact I'm sure that our indifference to the plague as a whole isn't shared by this medical facility (which is famous enough for me to have heard of it). No doubt they'll be preoccupied, and I think a bit of cybernetic enhancement surgery is probably going to score low on the priorities list.""[/ul] *Well, that's my initial reaction, anyways. But even as I vocalize it, uncertainty strikes. Would all of the regular activities cease? It depends on who's left, actually. A specialist becomes a specialist at the expense of all other fields. There's a base level of training for all medical professionals, to be sure, but epidemiology is not one of the latter. Research to promote the cure of the plague will be left in the hands of the specialists. Meaning, if there's any cosmetic surgery specialists surviving, they're not going to be participating in what is sure to be the primary thrust of the hospital's research and development. They're also professional staff of a certain position-- you can bet that they won't be demeaning themselves to become errand-boys for the ones who are. So, in other words, there's a nonzero chance that someone is free to take a pair of walk-ins. Well, it won't hurt to see, will it?
The third thing you have to do is feed back the results from step two into step one, and repeat the process until your original answer changes.*
[/i] an objective scale, it's still meaningless unless you're familiar with other objects and where they fall on that scale."[/font][/span][/ul] *Kriff, it feels good to be back on my feet! Off the shuttle is always a better place to be than on it...no offense intended, Ielyn. I follow suit with the others and gather my effects (on a light sider world, you never know when a ship might get impounded for groundless accusations, such as collaboration with dark siders). As Tal made his way to the ramp first - this highly protracted journey must have been even worse on his patience than mine - I walk up behind him, and we wait for the platform to fully descend before disembarking. He has given no reply to my comment yet, though to be fair I have had nothing to say about the Destroyer he's calling in, either. Frankly, I think an insurance policy isn't needed if the chance of incurring it is zero. If the fellow denizens of the universe are really nowhere near our power level, then doesn't it stand to reason that we ourselves cannot be endangered? By anything? But, that's none of my business. I gaze at the narrow shoulders of the man who stood with his back before me, roughly a decimeter shorter in height. And in this very moment, I receive a premonition of a future to be avoided at all costs. One that cannot be fleshed out or even fully articulated, but one in which I recognize the danger before him. Not of death or of injury, nor one of animosity towards me, but one with the threat of far greater sorrow. I find it strange, for I am not strong in the power of foresight, but the Force does as it will; and I realize that I must choose my words carefully. Thus, I continue on as we step down the ramp and take our first footsteps onto Honoghr territory proper.*
[/i] an objective scale of measurement. Without knowing to what application the power serves, it's all meaningless. Suppose you tell me you've got an engine that provides a kilowatt of power. That means nothing on its own, unless you tell me what you're using that power for. And, depending on what you're using it for, a kilowatt could be drastically overkill or pathetically insufficient. For instance, it would be ridiculous to use that engine to power a cybernetic implant. Likewise, if you're trying to run a battlecruiser off of it, you'll find that engine won't even manage to turn all of the ship's systems on. The point is, whether physical or metaphysical, power is always a means to an end, and not the end itself. Our metaphysical freedom is the objective of our power. So then the trick is, you are the one who defines your freedom. You are the one who gets to say what it looks like. And then we come to the crux: there are two possibilities. If you are unable to achieve your freedom with your current level of power, then you must grow your power. Or, if your freedom is easily obtained, then you must discover a new definition of freedom, and aim higher. But you should also know from experience that being more powerful than everyone else does not imply that your freedom can be attained, automatically. What you told me on Korriban -- and I'm quoting, almost verbatim, here -- was that you intend to see your power through, to a paradigmatic level whereafter all of the other Sith have no other option than to admit the folly of their ways, and likewise improve themselves or see themselves fall into irrelevancy. In that sense, you're absolutely right. It is very similar to the freedom I had had in mind to achieve when I came to see you on Kamino."[/font][/span][/ul] *I drift off into silence, nodding thoughtfully. It's a natural, logical progression. I mean, by Chaos...I think those might have been my exact words. If no one is all that powerful, then it belittles your status in being the most powerful of the lot. And, once men stop dreaming... Subconsciously, my right hand rises to the sheer surface of Devient, and my fingers trace across the cool metal along the cheekbones, down to the chin. I resume my words with a whimsical tone.*
[/font][/span][/ul] *We sweep our gazes around, trying to identify what seems to be the best candidate for an exit to this hangar. Tal points at a stairway, which used to have a digital display above it. Alas, the screens have long since shattered and we can't identify where it used to lead to, but I shrug to indicate that we can head that way. And then, beneath the mask, my brows furrow. I sense ...a swelling of animalistic aggression. Isn't it convenient that I managed to say everything I had wanted to on the topic before this forewarning reached my faculties? As I take Vol up into my left hand, just in case, I turn my head to note the Iruukiine with their comlinks out, also making their way down the ramp. I sure hope they got all that. If they can understand that, then they can understand everything it takes to be a Sith.
*Within minutes of our arrival in the gravity well, and shortly after contact with Elisio, Ielyn took us into the atmosphere, en route to the world's capital. As Ielyn had said before we took off, our route had been the long way around to get to Honoghr. Along the way, I privately noted that it would be an interesting military tactic to conceal a fleet near the Maw, if the goal were to interdict commute between Mandalore and Honoghr. Who knows if that ploy would ever see the light of day. But that idea had paled in comparison to the brilliance of my other suggestion..! Which no one took seriously. You see, I had thought of an excellent game which could be used as both a source of amusement by which to pass the time (the long way around was really a long time around, and if we're being honest I'm sick of sitting in this chair), and, a great way to train the neophytes to use the Force over more prolonged periods of time. The concept is simple: it's a Force-based version of gooth ball. Instead of a physical ball, you serve by emitting a Force Push, and you use Force Deflection to 'smack' this capsule of Force energy back and forth (using your hands) between players until someone messes up and fails to properly deflect the Force Push. The fact that the Iruukiine have twice as many hands would almost help level the playing field for us all. Almost. But, no, I was told that that was a silly idea and that meditation would be a better way to pass the time. And that's exactly what Tal had proceeded to do. Whatever. Maybe I'll start my own Academy and have the students there play that game every day. See who's stronger in the Force after a years' worth of that.
Anyways. Honoghr airspace. One could almost sense the optimism, the workers striving away in the medical facility, the Jedi presence, the...hope...The atmosphere is rich with it. Damage suffered, to be sure. But determination to put it to an end, all the more. Quite a bit different from the dying world which we just paid visit to. It's so funny. Because this planet is such a dump in the first place, thanks to the actions that had been taken by the Galactic Empire in order to keep the Noghri indebted, the plague is just another of a series of misfortunes to these people. You can't keep a good man down, as the saying goes, and that seems to have been the motif that this world has latched onto. There's only one hospitable stretch of land on the whole barren world, it being only the size of a major metropolitan area. And that's Nyastao. Today is a warm and cloudy afternoon on the planet Honoghr, and visibility is severely restricted. And, when it rains, Trihexalophine 1138 which has become incorporated into the hydrologic cycle is disseminated all the more. For this reason, the Clean Lands have developed an impressive system of shielding and irrigation after purifying the precipitated water. In our case, we're just thankful for the hermetic sealing of the Gamma-class shuttle. Low visibility doesn't bother us, anyways. It's not like we can see anything from the passenger hold, and Ielyn's got all of the state-of-the-art sensors at his disposal to obviate the need for line of sight. Our arrival on-planet has taken us to the northern latitudes with respect to Nystao. We'll pass over the domain Zhuk'nir, on our way in. Don't blink, or you'll miss it (well not that we can see it anyways, as just discussed), point is, it's really no more than a large neighborhood.
As we prepare for our arrival, I give my long-contemplated response to Tal's words.*
Nystao was the ruling city on Honoghr spread on the northern face of the planet. It was located at the center of a region known as the Clean Lands, as the remaining surface of the planet was contaminated with hybrid kholm-grass seeded by the Galactic Empire. Nystao was the home of the Grand Dukha where the clan representative of the Noghri convened occasionally.