Private For the journy

[Laphisto]

Laphisto had not left the coming journey to chance. Across the breadth of the galaxy, his forces moved with quiet purpose, detachments dispatched to distant systems, each tasked with acquiring the supplies, materials, and specialized components needed to sustain an operation of unprecedented scale. Fuel reserves, structural alloys, medical stockpiles, and, most critically, hyperdrive components were all being gathered. Moving a station and a fleet of nearly a thousand ships into the Unknown Regions was not a task he would leave to chance alone.

Varnak was one such piece of that larger design. The planet's markets were dense, chaotic, and imperfectly regulated, exactly the kind of place where rare parts surfaced without questions being asked. Intelligence had flagged a cluster of independent shops rumored to carry refurbished and salvaged hyperdrive systems. Unreliable, perhaps, but in the Unknown Regions, even flawed components could mean the difference between survival and being stranded in the dark.

So Laphisto came personally. He moved through the streets without escort, though his men were never far. The crowd parted around him in subtle ways, an unconscious reaction to the presence he carried. His armor and stature being well over seven foot eight ensured that people gave him a wide birth. The Force flowed around him, not as a distant current to be interpreted, but as something instinctive, woven into his every step. He let it guide him, a turn here. A pause there. The faint pull of something just out of sight. To others, his path might have seemed aimless. a man wandering the streets unsure where he wanted to go.

His gaze drifted over shopfronts layered in flickering neon and weathered signage, over vendors calling out deals for parts that would fail under real strain. None of it mattered. The Force narrowed his focus, filtering the noise, guiding him toward something more precise, something real. Tucked between two larger storefronts, half-obscured by hanging cables and dim light, was a shop that had not been on any registry he had been given. Its exterior was unremarkable, almost deliberately so. Yet the pull was undeniable.

Laphisto stopped just short of the entrance, his eyes narrowing slightly as the Force coiled tighter around his awareness. This was where he needed to be. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and crossed the threshold, letting the Force guide him into whatever waited inside.

Raxus Sennin

 

[Raxus Sennin]

Varnak didn’t feel right.
It wasn’t the noise—though there was plenty of it. Markets stacked on top of each other, voices layered in a dozen languages, machinery humming beneath everything like a second heartbeat.

It was the Force.
Uneven. Restless.
Raxus Sennin pulled his hood slightly lower as he stepped into the shop, the door sliding shut behind him with a muted hiss. Inside, the chaos dulled—filtered into something quieter. Contained.

Weapons lined the walls. Old. Modified. Some illegal in systems that still pretended to enforce law.
He didn’t touch anything.
Didn’t need to.
His focus drifted—not to the objects, but to the space itself.

There was tension here. Residual. Like something had passed through recently and left an imprint behind.
Raxus moved further inside, boots silent against the worn floor, gaze shifting slowly across the room.
Something’s off.

His hand hovered near his lightsaber—not gripping it, just… ready.
The feeling sharpened.
Not danger.
Not exactly.
Presence.
Familiar.

His breath slowed.
The Force shifted again—subtle, but undeniable.
Raxus stilled.
Then, quietly:
“…Jedi.”
The word barely left his lips.
He turned.
Slow. Controlled.
No rush.
No panic.
His eyes settled on the figure behind him.
Another Force signature—clear now. Distinct. Not fractured like most he’d felt in years.

Focused.
Alive.
Raxus studied them for a moment, expression unreadable, but his stance shifted ever so slightly—weight balanced, ready.

Not hostile.
Not trusting either.
“…Didn’t expect to find one of us here.”
Then he paused.
His gaze narrowed just slightly, searching—not for identity, but intent.
“Especially not on Varnak.”
Laphisto

 

[Laphisto]

Laphisto stood with his arms crossed over his chest, unmoving as he stared down the vendor across the counter. The air between them felt heavy, the kind of silence that pressed in even with the noise of the market surrounding them. Their voices stayed low, controlled, as they went back and forth over the price of the hyperdrive component laid out between them.

Diarchal credits were worthless now. The fall of the Diarchy had seen to that. Still, the material held value. Gold was gold, no matter whose face had once been stamped into it. Melted down, traded, repurposed, it still carried weight in places like this. Laphisto knew it, and the man across from him clearly did as well. A low rumble rolled from Laphisto's throat as he spoke again, his tone steady, pushing back against the vendor's attempt to raise the price. His eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the man, reading him, measuring how far he could be pushed before the deal broke.

The vendor kept talking, pressing, testing. Laphisto didn't seem to be budging on his own set price. Then he felt it. The shift cut clean through everything else. The noise of the market dulled in his awareness as the Force pulled at him, subtle but firm. His focus snapped away from the negotiation without hesitation.

Through the movement of the crowd, his gaze locked onto the source. A man, standing still, watching him. Not a passing glance, not idle curiosity. Focused. Intent. Laphisto held that gaze. For a moment, the rest of the market seemed to fall away. The presence lingered in the Force, enough to draw his attention and keep it there.

He shifted slightly, armor plates catching the dim light as he adjusted his stance. He made no effort to blend in. There was nothing subtle about him. His gear set him apart from everyone else in the street. His armor was fully worn, fitted tight like it belonged there. The BroadSaber hung at his side in full view. The LO-22S pistol rested against his thigh, secured and ready, while the LO-20D weapons platform sat across his back

The vendor's voice kept going beside him, words turning into background noise. Laphisto didn't respond. His attention stayed locked on the man across the way, the pull in the Force holding steady between them. and without warning, Laphisto's eyes shifted to a golden glow etched with rimson red along its corners. and the force came crashing towards the man. not in an attack but through Laphisto's sight. He was looking at teh man through the force, poking, prodding, and trying to identify their alignment in the force. Laphistos' own alignment was visible, but it wasn't light or dark.

Light and Dark moved together, intertwined, feeding into one another instead of clashing. It poured off him in waves, thick and constant, like something that had built beyond what a single body was meant to hold. The energy didn't lash out or spike. It spilled, controlled but abundant, rolling off him like fog slipping over an edge. a release of excess power. Those sensitive to the force could siphon off the excess to fuel their own abilities if they tried.

Raxus Sennin