Answers on Ossus

[Xaden Malacos]

The shuttle pierced the Ossus sky in silence, its engines coughing from disrepair. Below, the Jedi enclave lay crumbling atop weathered cliffs, its towers and courtyards long since abandoned to neglect and disuse. Vines clawed up broken walls, and meditation halls stood hollow, gutted by time. Xaden stood at the viewport, arms folded, eyes narrowed at the decayed legacy of the Order that had buried him. The Force lingered here like old dust — faint, forgotten, uneasy. He inhaled once, slowly. This place had held power once. Maybe still did. The shuttle touched down. Xaden stepped into the ruinous light.

Stepping out into the bright sunlight Xaden threw his arm up to block the brightness of the sun from his eyes, temporarily blinded from the assault due to the long absence of any sort of bright light. The fresh air was a balm to him for all of a few seconds when he sensed a presence heading toward him, definitely powerful and headed toward him. Narrowing his eyes he squared his shoulder and waited, he wasn't about to appear weak in front of whoever it was. And if they didn't choose to answer him...

They'd regret it.

Avarice

 

[Avarice]

X Xaden Malacos

A diminutive figure crested the hill, drawn by the unexpected arrival below. Curiosity had gotten the better of him. It was still a little early for the meeting to take place, and that ship certainly wasn't the one he'd been expecting.

"Well then... look what the hyperspace lane dragged in," he mused aloud, eyeing the man from a distance, trying to discern who, or rather what, he was, and what kind of ship had just touched down.

A pair of lust red colored eyes watched the new comer curiously as they squared up looking to fight. The diminutive figure in dark robes crossed his arms over his chest cocking his hip out to one side as he stood his ground.

 

[Xaden Malacos]

The presence crested the ridge and stopped. A lone figure, backlit by the harsh midday sun, stood motionless at the hill's peak. The light hit Xaden like a blade — stabbing into his eyes, hot against his skin. He winced, throwing up a hand, still unaccustomed to light after his entombment. The figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there, high and unbothered, letting the sun do the talking.

Xaden's breath came shallow. His lungs burned faintly, carbonite sickness coiled deep in his chest like a lingering curse. His balance faltered, but he caught himself with a hiss.

"Who are you?" he barked upward. No answer.

His voice echoed against crumbling stone and vanished into the wind.

He squinted harder. Young, maybe his age. Robes like a Sith — power hung around the silhouette like a second cloak. But no name. No movement. No weapon drawn.

"What is this place now?" Xaden called again, more raw than before. "What's left of the war? Of the Order?"

Silence.

Frustration flared like fire in his gut.

"Say something!"

Still nothing.

The sun bore down. The figure watched.

And Xaden, despite himself, began to doubt who held the power here.

Avarice