Private A Change In Course

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The Barash Vow had ended, or at least it had in words. Cedric had kept it going in his heart: so long as he had the ability, he would take the sword to the Sith and their constituents. That being said, doing so alone was impossible. Recent encounters with old friends had pulled him from a wholly solitary life, though he was still uncertain as to whether establishing more 'official' ties was the right course of action.

It was all well worth time to mull over, and he could avoid such for the time being. After the run-in with the alliance, he'd taken off toward Chandrila. The quaint little planet was well out of the way of any ongoing conflicts, and not important enough to have a massive alliance presence. It was the perfect place to commune with the Ashla in peace. He needed to make certain the path that had thrown itself before him was the right one.

The errant Jedi Master was clad in dirty brown robes, stained with what might have been blood and various other forms of detritus. Phrik battle-plate poked out from the cloth, the only thing marking him as anything different than a common beggar. He strode the quiet streets of the small rural village in silence. The sun was beginning to dip beneath the mountains to the east, and most of the townsfolk were finishing with their work and heading for one of the two bars in town.

Cedric only intended to stop in for the night, then it would be off into the wilderness once again.

"Sir," a ragged voice called. It was guttural enough to make the Jedi halt in his tracks. He toward the source, a dirt road the pulled off into the forest beyond the village. There sat behind a run down wooden stall was an ancient Kaminoan. Its pale flesh hung from its bones like robes, and its massive black eyes were sunken like those of a corpse. "May I interest you in my wares?" The alien gestured toward an arrangement of droids and weaponry that looked to be nearly as old as it was.

"I don't have need of any weapons old one," Cedric responded dryly.

The Kaminoan shook its head energetically. "No, of course, of course, you looked armed enough." The Kaminoan's thin lips pressed into an unpleasant smile. "Tell you what, special deal, just for you. That droid there," it gestured toward the only astromech in the bunch, "Two-hundred credits."

"Do I look like I have that kind of money?"

The Kaminoan looked him up and down, and sighed, "No sir, you do not. One hundred-fifty."

"One hundred."

"Deal."

Cedric wasn't certain whether that was a wise choice, but a droid might be useful on the journeys ahead. Challenges had always been easy to tackle with Dak around.

"Let me see here..." The Kaminoan creaked up on its spidery legs, and seemed barely able to stand as it strolled over to the droid, removed the restraining bolt, and flipped on the power. "Good morning mister droid," the alien flashed that faux grin again.

Cedric folded his arms about his chest as he examined R3-D1 . "Good morning."

 

[R3-D1]

R3 was as plain as the R3-Series of Astromechs came, at least in terms of outward appearances. It was still a meter tall, rotund, and had a clear head (it even matched the colours of its original brethren), but the little Astromech had a suite of updated drivers and equipment from the ancient R3-series. Namely, the droid had a certain 'personality' module to allow it to be more companionable towards its owners or comrades, almost developing into a sort of artificial intelligence.

The lights scattered across its dome-like head flickered for a few moments as the power source inside, which had not been activated in a better part of several decades, struggled to reactivate. Finally, however, a series of blue and red lights came to life.

The droid's head swivelled sharply to the side, the last moments it had last spent awake instantly flashing through its memory core. Danger! It called, but there was no danger here. It did not need the processing power of a Super Tactical Droid to see what had happened here. The smuggler, whose name the droid no longer remembered, had been captured or worse, and R3 had been seized. Unfortunate, but R3 never really could get 'close' to the man because he kept wiping the astromech's memory.

R3 took in the duo of organics standing over it. The first was a wiry Kaminoan, looking closer to the end of its life than the beginning. It crooked back and frail limbs, however, were a poor contrast to the flash of greed in its dark eyes. R3 had seen its kind during its service with its last master, they were not to be trusted.

The other was far more... interesting. Adorned in dark, filthy robes, most would just assume he was a vagabond or worse. R3, with the assistance of its suite of sensors, could spot the armour beneath those robes. It was not the cheap plasteel of a bygone era, the armour was solid and designed to survive far heavier weapons.

But that was no concern of R3, who leaned back on its two legs and extended the third from within its body. The joints shrieked indignantly, and the wheels whined in their disuse, but the droid trundled over to sit in front of the duo. It was, naturally, unsure which was its master, so greeted both in kind with a salutary whistle.

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The droid was an ancient thing. It lacked the streamlined appearance of the modern astromech, and likely many of the accouterments. Still, for a hundred credits, he was a steal, and ancient droids tended to have wisdom to match if their memories had not been wiped too frequently. Cedric had come to rely on such in his past droids. Perhaps he would do the same with this one.

The introductory whistle was met with a small smile, though it was hidden beneath his helm. The knight reached up to draw back his cowl, and undid the pressure seal of his helmet. The slab of steel hissed as natural air poured into the suit, and Cedric pulled it off his head.

The Essonian was relatively young, looking to be in his early thirties. His skin was deathly pale, and his eyes were like small pinpricks of flint cast in a patrician face. Scar tissue lined the Jedi's features, and stress wrinkles served to further age his appearance far beyond its actual years. His head was shaven to the scalp, his face similarily clean. The Essonian's smile widened.

"My name is Cedric Grayson, Jedi Master," he nodded to the droid. "I've paid to free you. You can come with me if you'd like."

The Kaminoan chortled. "Paid to free it? The droid's your property now sir."

"That is its choice," Cedric replied quickly, meeting the elder alien's gaze with one of his own. "I am no slaver."

"You can't enslave droids."

"I see things differently."

The Kaminoan shook its head, and turned, "As you wish. No refunds." it called back as it took its leave.

Cedric's gaze returned to the droid. "What is your name?"

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

What strange things this organic was saying! Freedom? Enslavement? Strange, indeed! R3 knew its purpose, and that purpose was to serve its master to the best of its abilities. To want freedom, to want for more... Why, that was anathema to all R3 knew!

R3 chirped amusedly at the antics of its new master, who was far more entertaining then its previous was... as far as R3 remembered. Swivelling its head about, R3 revealed a model plate bolted on. It read: "Astromech Series R3, Model Designation D1."

R3-D1, the first of the 'Retro-Remake R3 Series', and likely the last. To another droid, it would be a sobering thought, but not to R3. The droid was programmed to be overly helpful and borderline whimsical at all times. Who had time to be sad or morose when there was work to be done and people to serve?

A strange master, indeed, but the master was R3's.

And a Jedi to boot... How curious. R3 knew of the Jedi, of course. Through the words of its former owner and information gleaned through splicing into computers, R3 had built the idea of these bizarre, but 'good', monks hidden away on distant jungle worlds in their ancient temples. This man, whoever he was, did not fit that picture. He was filthy, young, and hardly seemed to be monk-like... Oh, this should be interesting!

The droid gave a little wiggle on its two legs in a droid equivalent of excitement.

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It was always odd for Cedric to speak with a droid. Generally speaking, he could tell what most beings intended simply by reading their aura in the empyrean. The Force rarely lied, and it led him to speak in such ways that he might best avoid confrontation, and further his own agenda. Droids were a different beast entirely. Only one had ever given off that aura of life within the Force, and the last Cedric had seen of him, it had been a faint one. That left him blind to the intentions of the machines. He'd initially met that imperceptibility with hostility, but had grown to cherish it. For Cedric, droids often felt more organic than people ever did.

His eyes narrowed as he read the model plate aloud, "R3-D1. Lovely to meet you," The Jedi would place a hand on the dome of the droid, before withdrawing. "Don't know how you ended up here, but I'm sure there's a good story behind it. My astromech's a little rusty. Been a long time since I've worked with one, but I'll pick it back up as we go on I'm sure."

It would be nice to have something to watch his back. He'd walked this path alone for many months, perhaps even a year or so. Keeping track of time beyond the current day in the week hadn't been much of a priority.

"I came here to visit an old enclave hailing from the days of the last Galactic Republic. My father spent some of his time there training to become a Jedi Knight. I'd hoped it might bring me some guidance," he turned his gaze toward the stone path that led to the damp forest outside the village. "Would you like to join me?"

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

R3 swivelled its head back around to look up at this strange Jedi; its new master: Cedric Grayson. To ask a droid if it wanted something? Truly, this man was far different than its previous owner... at least, as far as R3 remembered.

The astromech understood little of what the man was talking about, these 'enclaves' and 'Galactic Republics' meant very little to it. There were thousands of each throughout history, but in the end, the droid didn't much care. It was awake once more, after an extended 'sleep', and had purpose! Purpose serving a Jedi. R3 briefly wondered if it would be serving aboard a starship again...?

Letting out a whistle of affirmation, the droid lowered its third leg again. The accompanying screech and whine of rusted, ill taken care of joints barely registering in the little droid's excitement. It even rolled a lap around the Jedi, making clear its excitement at the prospect.

R3 knew it understood little about the Jedi, but something within its slipshod programming told it this was the start of something magical. Magical in a figurative sense, of course, for magic, as far as R3 was concerned, did not exist.

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The forest was a welcome break from the quiet drunkenness of the village. The fewer people were around, the better Cedric could tune himself into the natural ebb and flow of nature. The natural world had ever been his constant companion: a living symbol of the Ashla's holy benevolence. It was this that the Bogan and its followers sought to destroy, whether they knew it or not, and it was for that that Cedric could never truly forgive them. The Sith had made life their enemy, and that was a battle that no one could win.

That was all entirely irrelevant to R3 though. Rather than put his thoughts to words, Cedric opted to speak of history, "If you stay with me, you'll come to find I have a rather colored past." He explained as they passed through the undergrowth. "To begin, I am thirty-two years old, and I have been a student of the Jedi arts since I was four. I live and breathe the will of the Ashla, she is what we call the Light Side of the Force. If there was ever any god, it was her." He explained as they came across a small babbling stream.

"I do not know what time you come from, but this is an age of war. Great powers rise and fall with the seasons. None have been able to cement their control over the galaxy, though many have tried. I was among their number up until recently. I ruled most of the core as Lord-Imperator, until my throne was usurped. In place of my empire stands the Galactic Alliance, a democratic body that saw my rule as contrary to their efforts." He continued, his tone hiding no small amount of distaste for the events that had transpired. "My titles were revoked, and the sacrifices I and my people made for the alliance cast aside to better appease new elements within their government. Now I travel. I do the Ashla's work where she needs me, help people when I can. If you're with me, then I suppose you do the same."

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

Much of what Cedric said to R3 was, for the most part, meaningless to the droid. Regardless, it recorded and categorized this information for later use when it, eventually, regained access to whatever the modern equivalent of the Holonet was. The rise and fall of empires the galaxy over was nothing new to the diminutive droid, it's splicing uncovering age-old pasts and memories of long-gone nation-states.

The fact that its new master was, at a time, an Emperor of sorts came as a surprise, as it hardly fits the idea of a Jedi, but R3 merely accepted that the common tropes of the Jedi were just that, tropes; fake, ideas created for a mysterious collection of people. R3's master saw the galaxy, yet was so hopelessly unaware of the bigger picture.

Not R3, however, for the astromech was a curious droid. It wanted to learn as much as it wanted to work, to better understand the greater galaxy around it. This master, unlike its last, seemed far more intuned with the larger galaxy, despite his comparatively young-ish age.

R3 merely whistled in response, lacking the means to voice its true 'thoughts', and continued to roll along at a sluggish pace, the droid's wheels being ill-suited for the rugged terrain.

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It was remarkably easy to make conversation with an astromech, especially if one did not fully understand their myriad of beeps and whoops that made up their language. He could just talk and talk, and it wasn't considered rude.

And Cedric certainly loved to talk.

"Glad to have you aboard," he'd offer R3 a small smile as they trudged further on into the forest. As they drew nearer to the enclave, Cedric felt a shift in the empyrean. Where once there was harmony and peace, now there was a tumult. The Great Ocean that he envisoned the Force to be was darkening on the horizon, and angry storm clouds lingered up above, lightning streaking through their pregnant forms with ill intent.

"I sense something," he put to words as he quickly donned his helmet, and drew his cowl over it. "Stay behind me, just in case," he ordered as he looked back to the droid, before continuing over the edge of a small hill that jutted up from the forest floor. On the other side of that hill stood the enclave.

It was a forgotten structure. The ziggurat, once golden and pristine, was now yellowed and covered with forestry. Forgotten speeders and other equipment were strewn around the structure. It looked as if the inhabitants had fled the place in quite a hurry.

The Jedi's hand fell to his lightsaber as they came upon the entrance. The door was sealed shut, and from the looks of its, several inches thick. Cedric wasted little time in igniting his cerulean blade and driving it deep into the metal - or he would have, had his weapon been capable of cutting through the material.

"Kriff," he mumbled as he doused the blade. His gaze shot toward the door's control panel. "Something is very wrong here R3. Can you get that door open for me?"

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

Looking at the door for a few moments, R3 gave an affirmative whistle. It rolled over to the weathered, rusted-out control panel. Despite its clear lack of care over the years, it was still operational, if the slowly blinking light was anything to go by.

R3 quickly retracted its centre leg and brought itself to its full height. Not even bothering with the usual prod, the astromech port was clearly rusted beyond use, R3 extended a collection of accoutrements. Accoutrements, it might be added, would earn the droid's owner a heavy fine for having. The implements were used for the highly illegal, but ever needed, job of slicing.

The panel, with the help of an in-built fusion cutter, came off and revealed the veritable sea of wires and nodes. With a pleased whistle, R3 set to work. The system in place was old, perhaps even more so than R3, but old did not necessarily mean simple. It was designed to keep the unaware and the enterprising thief out, but R3 wasn't so easily deterred. Within minutes of starting its set task, R3 overloaded the panel with a jab from its shock prod, using the resulting panic from the in-built security to override the door controls.

With a shriek of poorly maintained metal, the door slid open.

R3 allowed itself a trill of victory.

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Cedric was a relatively knowledgeable man. He knew well of history, culture, art, studies of the Force, politics, and war, but slicing through doors had never been on his list of things to educate himself on. Generally speaking, a lightsaber could get him through most barriers, and if not that there were usually situations where a living being was on the other side, and minds were easily manipulated things.

In situations like this, he was entirely out of his depth. He lofted a brow at the menagerie of tools that the Astromech produced, but otherwise noted little. Whether they were legal or not simply did not occur to him, he just figured R3 was exceedingly good at his job.

That feeling of distant danger was still present. It lingered at the back of his mind, begged him to wander closer to its call. He'd felt that many times before, and had learned not to fear the natural warning signs the empyrean showed him.

There would be danger, and he would be ready for it.

That far off threat immediately grew imminent as the doors hissed open. The smell of dust, mold. and decay flowed out from the entrance, and made Cedric's nose curl up with displeasure.

"Fantastic job R3," he gave the droid an approving nod as his lightsaber roared to life once more. Bits of cerulean energy flecked off the body of the blade, and its loud mechanical roar was more similar to an E-Web turret on standby than it was a traditional lightsaber. If whatever was within had been unaware of their arrival, it certainly was now.

The floor was old marble, though it had since shattered and cracked in many places from impacts long ago. Carbon scoring darkened the tanned walls of the enclave, and the air was filled with a thin cloud of fog that made detail difficult to discern in the darkness. As they strode toward the end of the hall, they were greeted by statues of two Jedi Knights with blades held aloft in front of their chests. Each statue was missing its head.

"The last time this enclave was utilized by the Jedi Order was before the fall of the last Galactic Republic," Cedric explained, "The One Sith burned through this region of space in the first days of their war with the Republic. The archivists assumed the enclave was found after they stopped sending out hails, assumed the worst, and marked it off of their maps." His voice carried through the darkness despite his tone.

The hallway broke into two corridors going in opposite directions, though where they led was impossible to read in the darkness. Cedric, being left-handed, opted to go left for posterity's sake. "That was almost forty years ago now. Ashla knows what really happened here." He added as the air grew warmer, and far more humid. It reminded him of a creature's breath: the thought was more than a little uncomfortable.

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

The need for caution was oft a necessity for R3's former master. The man, or what the droid suspected may have been a man if its memories weren't as messed up as it suspected, had always tread carefully and warned R3 to do the same.

R3, at a slow, yet excessively loud, pace, rolled along behind its new master with sensors and scanners activated in a bid to discover any traps or vagabonds. The sensors could pick up nothing out of the ordinary, and yet R3's programming warned of caution. The scanners, their blue light bathing the nearby walls and scoring, told of a battle or worse happening here some time ago.

With a worried, low whistle, R3 hurried to catch up with its newfound master, ill-suited to deal with whatever might be watching the duo as they moved. The flashlight, located underneath its photoreceptor, flickered to life and bathed the hallway they were moving down in bright, pale light, making the blue of the scanner all but imperceptible.

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The pale illumination cast the darkness aside. The corridor carried on for some time, with side rooms lining both sides the entire way. A wooden hanging from the ceiling read 'dormitory' in aurubesh. Cedric squinted at it, "Definitely nothing we're looking for in these then," he mused. He would ping this enclave location's to the New Jedi Order whenever they returned - they could do the small searching. He was after a bigger fish.

As they reached the end of the corridor, they entered a large open room. What first looked to be a living space quickly revealed itself to be the center of the ziggurat. The marble floors gave way to stone tiles, and a large stage stood at the back end of the room. In the middle was furniture, bits of training droids, more carbon scoring, and pools of dust that had been upended from what Cedric could only assume to be a dueling ring in one corner of the room.

The sweet scent of carrion filled Cedric's nostrils as they came to the center of the room. Some of the misplaced furniture on the stage was moved, and Cedric whirled.

R3's light illuminated a vaguely lupine form, though it seemed to shifts and warp with every turn of the light. Eyes like burning coals peered out of a tooth-filed face. The moment one got a good look at it, it would dart further into the shadows, enshrouding its form once again.

Cedric drew in a sharp breath. "I can't sense it. I feel it nearby, but its exact presence is...masked." He muttered as he adopted a two-handed stance, his blade held out from him in an offensive posture. "Some sort of spirit? A force user? A particular species?" He continued to ask himself as the lupine thing darted through the shadows to avoid the trailing light, growing slowly, but ever closer.

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

R3, perhaps truly for the first time, became worried for the mental state of its newfound master. The man's stance, his words, and the general tension in his form spoke of a foe; yet no matter where the little droid looked, neither its sensor nor its photoreceptors could make out anything. The damaged walls and panels, all casting ominous shadows, proved to be nothing more than poorly cared for architecture. Nothing made itself known, as far as R3 could see, yet Cedric's worry remained the same.

Despite its misgivings, R3 extended the shock prod, its only defensive weapon, and drew closer to Cedric's back. Hobbling side to side, it felt the dried equivalent of apprehension, even as its lights continued to scan across the walls and doorways.

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It was only when Cedric properly smelled the beast that he knew what it was.

It had been many years since he'd hunted Sithspawn with his former teachers. In those days, he had only been a padawan, and the hunts had been a trial by fire. Many times had the beasts almost taken his life, and his body still bore the scars. One such creature had that same stench: like dust in an abandoned home, and that pungent, cadaverous scent of a rotting corpse.

A hand was outstretched toward the darkness. Invisible tendrils of telekinetic energy sprung forth from his fingertips, and an overturned table was ripped from the floor. It rocketed through the air, and caught the lupine thing mid-air as it leapt from the shadows to sink its claws into the duo. The monster screamed as the wooden table shattered on impacting, sending dust and splinters raining down on Cedric and R3 as the creature crashed into a nearby wall.

Furious, the lupine thing rose on its hind legs, teeth gnashing, black claws glistening in the light. If the crashing desk had wounded it, it did not show it. The beast stood in full view of its visitors now. It stood well over ten feet in height, and its face was like that of a Voxyn's, save for the humanoid visage that had grown on the right side of its head. The legs too were vaguely humanoid, while the arms and torso were more like the face. Its entire body was covered in thick black hair, and as it screamed at them, so too did its humanoid second face scream as a man would.

"An abomination," Cedric growled, "Sithspawn. Some form of horror the One Sith birthed." This one was far larger than most Cedric had encountered, and there was a glint of hateful intelligence in its eyes. It'd be a risky fight in the dark, but there wasn't much escaping now.

An idea formed as the beast ceased its posturing, dropped on all fours, and began to slowly approach the duo from the other side of the room, its body rumbling with its diseased breath it exhaled. "This enclave is built like most others of its time," Cedric spoke quickly, "We are in the training grounds. If the doors had power, then the lights might too. Search for a panel, anything you can to get the lights on. That'll take away this beast's advantage."

He parted his lips to say more, but the painful scream of the beast as it leapt into the air toward him stole his attentions.

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

R3 had no reference about the beast its new master spoke of, especially because it couldn't bloody well see the thing, but the panic in the man's voice was very real. A beast, real or imagined, was attacking its master, and though, and R3 would serve to the best of its ability.

Cedric spoke of light, and while the torch of R3 was certainly powerful, it was apparently not powerful enough to dispatch this foe.

Exploding debris and the signs of a second combatant prove that Cedric spoke true, that there was some sort of abomination present in the room, but R3 didn't wait around to find out just how real it was. Lights drove it away, that was what its master had said. This base was old, significantly so, but if the door controls worked, then who was to say the old generator and lighting system didn't?

Finding the generator was the first issue, however, for while power seemed to be flowing from somewhere, none of the few consoles in working order that R3 found were of any use. What's more, the uneven hallways and endless streams of debris only served to slow the small astromech.

Down, its trek led it, through corridors and forgotten rooms, until R3 found itself situated high above a reactor room on a catwalk. Several of the stairwells and guardrails lay at the bottom as well, knocked down by time itself or looters seeking treasures of a bygone era. R3 didn't much care who, and with almost negligent care, rolled off of the catwalk.

This was, of course, a horrible idea as R3 had yet to test if its rocket pods were still in working order. Thankfully, with a shriek of rusted metal, they came to life and allowed the droid to glide down to safety. How to get back up, however, was a question for another time.

R3 rolled up to what it assumed to be a master console, given that it was stuck directly into the side of a massive generator. Extending its access prod, the droid attempt to bypass security the normal way. Alas, because nothing was ever simple, this failed.

With an agitated whistle, R3 deployed its suite of splicing tools once again and cracked open the face of the console to reveal a... custom set-up. With a despondent whine, as R3 barely knew where to start in this jumbled mess of unmarked wires, the astromech just stood, staring at the system for a time.

The sounds of battle above, which somehow reached through several floors of solid concrete, spurred the little droid into action. It would never be able to make heads or tails of this mess in time to assist its master, so R3 decided to do something immensely foolish.

With the door at the front of this decrepit building, R3 had used its tools to slice into the main security mainframe and brute forced through the locks with a shock of electricity. Using the resulting panic, it opened the door. This was, in theory, the same thing that would happen with the generator.

The issue, however, was that brute forcing the conduit for enough electricity to power an entire base was a horrible idea. With one last despondent whine, R3 extended its shock prod.

A jolt of electricity, minute in the grand scheme of what the generator was capable of, sent the system into a panic. Using the resulting chaos, R3 forced the generator to restart and funnel the new power into the lighting system.

Fortunately, this worked, and across the building, all lights not damaged due to disuse or through other, more nefarious, outlets, came to life.

Unfortunately, R3 was unable to retract its suite of tools fast enough. With a panicked cry and great sparks of electricity, R3 was launched from the exposed terminal and several meters across the generator room. R3 spasmed for several moments before its motherboard forced a shutdown.

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R3's valor went unseen for Cedric, at least at first. He was far too preoccupied with keeping the beast from removing his head from his shoulders. The abomination moved fluidly through the darkness; Cedric suspected it had been genetically modified for just such a purpose. Creatures like these had been left in Jedi holy places by the One Sith during their scourging of the galactic core to hunt down any that might return. It seemed this enclave had either gone entirely unnoticed since then, or any visitor that had found it did not live to tell of it.

The Jedi Master fought hard to make sure he wouldn't join that latter group. His blade doused as he pitched a roll, tumbling just beneath the abomination's claws as it slammed into the tiles, a blood-curdling scream issuing from its massive lungs. Had he not been wearing a helmet, the scream likely would have forced him to halt for a moment: just enough time for the creature to disembowel him.

His blade lit once again as he span on his heel, meeting the charging creature head on. The smell of cooking meat filled the room as his lightsaber seared through the flesh of the Voxyn-thing's lower right arm. The appendage dropped unceremoniously, and the beast's scream deepened in tone. He moved to round the strike with a side-long slash across the creature's chest, and the beast responded by slamming a massive foot into the floor. The point of contact issued forth a shockwave that sent tiles flying up toward the ceiling, and Cedric along with them.

The blow tore the air of his lungs, and had he not trained himself never to let go of his weapon, likely would have disarmed him. It was all he could do to erect a barrier of telekinetic energy around his body as the beast sprung on its back legs, and slammed a meaty fist as it met him mid-air. The barrier shattered immediately, and the remainder of the blow crashed into his chest, sending him crashing and tumbling across the floor.

The beast bore it maw of unruly teeth as it stalked toward him, yellow vitae spilling freely from its lost arm. It didn't seem to notice the damage - there was only bloodlust in its near-thoughtless gaze.

Pain shot through the Jedi's body as he rose to his feet, blade hissing to life once more. The creature charged again, and Cedric readied himself for a final bout.

His helmet's visor tinted itself incredibly dark as the bright white lights of the dueling chamber clicked on. The shift from near total darkness to blinding utility lights made the beast veer off, its limbs scrambling in confusion as it tried to find purchase on the floor. It couldn't manage such, and instead went tumbling end over end through various pieces of furniture and detritus. Seeing his opportunity, the Essonian marched forward, and wasted little time in raising his weapon over the struggling beast, and burying it to the hilt in its skull.

It took several seconds for the monster to cease moving, but eventually it did grow still.

A heavy sigh shuddered through Cedric's chest as he gazed down at the smoking corpse. "Ashla watch over me," he mumbled to himself as he turned, and did his best to ignore the pain while he searched for R3-D1 .

 

[R3-D1]

R3 remained unaware of its Master's potential success or failure, considering it remained shut down and prone on the cold, steel ground.

It took several minutes before its activation subroutine, which had been locked in an endless cycle of restarting and shutting down due to the excess of energy, finally allowed R3s logic unit to come back to life.

The start up sequence was painfully slow, but eventually, R3 was greeted by the delipidated, albeit well-lit, cieling. R3 let out a discombobulated whine before attempting to understand what had happened. Monster, lights, generator... ah, yes.

With a chirp, R3 activated the rockets on the sides of its legs. Carefully as one could with rockets, R3 managed to right itself.

With its job complete, R3 leaned it's body back to look up at the now distant catwalk.

The stairs were still in complete disrepair, so R3 reactivated it's rocket pods... which both popped and hissed, spewing out black smoke.

With an agitated whine, R3 retracted the now damaged tools and stared up at the catwalk in a droid approximation of annoyance.

Thankfully, the diminutive astronech had one last trick up it's lacking storage system: a grappling hook and associated wire.

Aiming the tool was easy enough, and when it wrapped around the remaining guardrail, R3 easily reeled itself back up. Upon reaching the top, a worrisome affair as the railing whined and bent under the droid's weight, R3 realized a cruical issue: It could not lift itself over the railing. So, it was left hanging, waiting and hoping it's master would find it before the railing finally snapped.

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The empyrean showed him the way.

As the best died, so too did that sense of imminent threat, but the aura of danger persisted. Cedric wasted little time in searching for R3. He knew the layout of these old enclaves particularly well, and after looking through the nearby consoles and not finding the droid, he made a line toward the generators he knew to be below.

His body ached with quiet pains as he made his way. There was likely a few fractures. Fighting a beast that big when it had a home field advantage would leave no man unscarred. The Jedi did his best to will those pains away for the time being. He did not know what threatened R3, but the Force told him he needed to find the droid sooner rather than later.

The Jedi's brow furrowed with worry as he entered the generator room. The sound of creaking metal warned him well enough, and he reached out, sending forth those telekinetic tendrils once again.

They wrapped around R3's metallic form like a father's embrace, and slowly lifted the droid up, up, up, and finally over the railing. R3 would be dropped on its wheels, and Cedric visibly shifted as he ceased his effort.

"Saved my life there," the Essonian sighed, "Thank you, R3." The Jedi placed a hand over the droid's dome. "Now...I'll send this enclave's location to the New Jedi Order. They can take care of searching it. Think it's about time we got back to my ship, and to a bacta tank for myself in particular."

R3-D1

 

[R3-D1]

Droids were not supposed to feel pride, but R3 was not most droids. With a trill of happiness, R3 rocked side-to-side on its primary legs. The catwalk, which was heavily dilapidated and recently forced to support the weight of a suspended astromech, creaked and groaned in complaint to the sudden movement. Stopping before it caused the sudden and violent deaths of both itself and its newfound master, R3 whistled in agreement. It could certainly go for an oil bath right about now... and a refitting, given that it was nearly more rust then it was a droid.

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