Silver Rest was solemn with the attack on Onderon. An unwarranted attack upon the people that had been answered by a number of jedi and non-jedi alike. Numerous people had given of themselves to secure the planet, including Tarish Galland. His hidden agenda had not been made known to those he considered family in his time with the Silver Jedi from training to this point.
Had been a plan of his own machinations. Words left on his communicator for those that found him were directed to Naria, someone who might understand even a little of what they meant.
Oh quit, who do you think came up with the idea?
Words he had said a number of times. Words that had always been trouble for someone. Trouble that always seemed to follow the man when he spoke those words. The ideas he came up with were fool-hearty. Half baked but usually coming together in the end when the dust settled. Except this time when the dust settled.
His cold body was amongst the rubble.
It had been set out in respect. A wound in his chest was plainly made by that of a lightsaber of some kind. Burns along his entire body matched up with the destruction of the building that was once a power plant. It had been the scene of his last battle, and seemed a catastrophic one at that. The signs of a large explosion had torn the building to pieces. Those structures flanking it in no better shape as fires died in the burnt out husk of a building that had kept him until his body had been found.
His remains had been taken to the Commenor temple, what was once his new home; Now turned final resting place. Preparations had been made, a message delivered to Atoa and received with mixed reactions.
His mother, a high priestess of Atoa, had expected the news somehow. Had hoped the message would never come, had hoped that her daughter had been wrong. His parents mourned, while a group departed to find the other half of the now missing force bond that left his sibling feeling hollow and empty. The other half that had gone to be with whatever called the wandering spirit to rest.
An alert had been sent last minute to those around Tarish. His friends called to address something about discrepancies with what was to be the final verdict on his death. Issues that caused the coroner to call into question what had ultimately been the final blow that killed him.
Inside the morgue, four figures stood, all dressed in a similar manner that Tarish dressed, waiting for the arrival of those around Tarish. One stood over his body, the other three at a respectful distance. None who entered could sense the four within the force, and there were a few weapons visible on their being though they were armed with far more than was presently seen.
Had been a plan of his own machinations. Words left on his communicator for those that found him were directed to Naria, someone who might understand even a little of what they meant.
Oh quit, who do you think came up with the idea?
Words he had said a number of times. Words that had always been trouble for someone. Trouble that always seemed to follow the man when he spoke those words. The ideas he came up with were fool-hearty. Half baked but usually coming together in the end when the dust settled. Except this time when the dust settled.
His cold body was amongst the rubble.
It had been set out in respect. A wound in his chest was plainly made by that of a lightsaber of some kind. Burns along his entire body matched up with the destruction of the building that was once a power plant. It had been the scene of his last battle, and seemed a catastrophic one at that. The signs of a large explosion had torn the building to pieces. Those structures flanking it in no better shape as fires died in the burnt out husk of a building that had kept him until his body had been found.
His remains had been taken to the Commenor temple, what was once his new home; Now turned final resting place. Preparations had been made, a message delivered to Atoa and received with mixed reactions.
His mother, a high priestess of Atoa, had expected the news somehow. Had hoped the message would never come, had hoped that her daughter had been wrong. His parents mourned, while a group departed to find the other half of the now missing force bond that left his sibling feeling hollow and empty. The other half that had gone to be with whatever called the wandering spirit to rest.
An alert had been sent last minute to those around Tarish. His friends called to address something about discrepancies with what was to be the final verdict on his death. Issues that caused the coroner to call into question what had ultimately been the final blow that killed him.
Inside the morgue, four figures stood, all dressed in a similar manner that Tarish dressed, waiting for the arrival of those around Tarish. One stood over his body, the other three at a respectful distance. None who entered could sense the four within the force, and there were a few weapons visible on their being though they were armed with far more than was presently seen.