Deneba was a mostly inconsequential world as far as the exile could tell. The rust colored planet had once been host to a great Jedi conclave a few dozen centuries back, and had only been of relevance once again recently. Master Arenais had established an academy on the planet a few years ago, and it had since become one of the Confederacy's frontier worlds.
He wasn't entirely certain if the enclave still operated given the planet's choice of allegiance; the CIS had become something nigh impenetrable to him since the Malverns had elected to call it home. The King of Illyria, or so he styled himself, would have jumped at the opportunity to see Cedric murdered while passing through its borders. It was only his old rival's departure that had emboldened Cedric to dare crossing the border.
He'd opted to try and center himself while his pilot busied herself with preparing the ship for its next excursion into the void. She'd let his name slip when asked for identification, and whatever hopes he might've had at maintaining his anonymity had evaporated. He could only hope she finished her work quickly so they could be long gone before anyone with any reason to care about his presence took notice.
The refueling station was relatively unpopulated, which suited Cedric just fine. He'd taken a short walk out toward the wilderness just beyond the compound's borders, and found a shadowed grove just at the edge of a field that stretched on for miles.
The exile cast a quick glance around, reached out into the depths of the empyrean, and satisfied that he felt no malice from the grove, drew his weapon. The lightsaber hummed violently as it cut through the air, casting the treeline in a ghostly blue light as Cedric went through the beginning sets of Form V. It was better to spend his time on Deneba productively, rather than to wasting it arguing with his pilot. The girl would probably win anyway.
Illian tried pressing a bunch of buttons as his smoke filled the air. His ship descended to the ground in a tremendous downward trajectory, the Epicanthix attemping to remember everything Juniper Jett
had taught him.
"Try and do something dammit!!"
Looking at the droid, the future Knight saw its light flicker. It seemed like the batteries were off, or maybe he'd forgotten to charge it. Intending to have at least the ship be somewhat salvagable, he attempted to angle the ship to land near its wings. As it crash landed, he could feel the tremor it caused the ground, dust appearing in the viewport as Illian prayed to whoever who was listening, closing his eyes in the process.
"Please let me at have a girl before I die."
Seconds past, and everything was still pitch black to him.
I guess I'm not dead.
Standing up, the neutral squire moved. Coughing, he felt his left leg feel more heavier. Looking down, he could see a piece of metal had pieced his light armour. Summoning all the instincts he had cultivated, the man with fortitude continued to move, his weight supported by one leg. As he moved in small steps, he summoned his rage, and ripped apart the door that was open with the force, pieces of metal going around everywhere.
He was nearing the end of his sets when a vessel of unknown origin came screaming down toward the earth. At first Cedric assume it was some flyboy trying to see just how low they could fly over the canopy without crashing: realization dawned on him around the same time the ship's nose met the dirt. The vessel careened through the treeline, severely damaging several of the near ancient trees and kicking up small mountains of dirt as it carved an artificial canyon through the grove.
It was all the exile could do to avoid getting crushed by the damned thing. He spat a series of curses as the ship finally came to a halt, small streams of flame jutting out through cracks in its carapace that would surely grow to engulf much of the grove if left unchecked.
His lightsaber hissed quietly as Cedric stowed it away, and made straight for the ship. He had only rudimentary training in the manipulation of the elements, but he understood it on a base scientific level. If he could just...
The exile's train of thought was shattered as one of the ship's doors exploded outward, showering the grove in shrapnel. He summoned an invisible wall of telekinetic energy over his form, and the shrapnel bounced off its surface quite harmlessly.
"There anyone else aboard!?" He snapped at whom he assumed to be the pilot (Illian Dragos
). With a mild mental effort, he willed the barrier he'd erected to shatter into pieces, and blanket the places in the ship's hull that now spurted fire. The oxygen in those places was deprived, and the flames began to snuff themselves out.
Indeed, the flames were stiffened out. Looking down, he saw his clothes had been ripped apart by the fire. More specifically, his lower jeans had been ripped, his shoes gone. All he had in his lower region were some torn socks. As he moved, he could feel more weight heart his right leg. But he willed himself through, ignoring Cedric's question. He could feel the dirt of the round on his feet. A few moments later, he sat down and leaned on a large rock, taking some time to rest.
"Only a droid. Other than that, I'm the only one onboard."
Moving to lean on his right shoulder, a Knights Obsidian's insignia would appear on Illian's left shoulder. On his part, he could feel the man radiate a huge presence of warmth and sweetness. He could only assume this man, whoever he was, was someone who walked in the 'light', or whatever they had called the light side of the force in the archives.
"Name's Illian. Thanks for saving me. Are there any facilities nearby?"
His work finished more or less, Cedric released the barriers he’d erected around the ship. The grove had suffered enough in its landing, and it had no need for a forest fire on top of the crash. The exile breathed a quiet sigh of relief as the strange asserted that he was the only living soul on board. The man looked to be in somewhat rough shape, but flesh wounds could be dealt with. If there had been anyone else aboard with more serious injuries, it was likely they would have died this far from civilization.
“I take it the droid wasn’t the one flying?” He asked incredulously as he withdrew from the ship. Cedric was far from a healer, but he might be able to do something about the stranger’s leg. “Looks like you took a souvenir from the crash,” he added rather nonchalantly, gesturing toward the bit of metal lodged in the stranger’s leg. Removing that would cause a good deal of bleeding - might be best just to leave it in for the time being.
“I can help you with that, though I don’t have many bandages. It’s probably going to bleed fairly badly when it gets pulled out.” Cedric muttered as he began to dig around in his belt pouches for those bandages. It was around that time that he caught sight of the badge on the stranger’s shoulder. It took him a moment to properly recognize it, but it didn’t cause him much trouble when he did. Even if it turned out they had sent this one after him, he was too wounded to be much trouble, and given his presence in the empyrean, too conflicted to do so even if he were well.
“I was almost expecting one of your people,” he muttered as he bent to examine the stranger’s wounded leg. “I’m going to pull this out, and you’re going to have to try not to scream too loudly. I need my concentration if I’m to mend it well enough for you to walk properly.” He paused for a moment, though his gaze never averted from the damage. “Any of your superiors aware of your location stranger?”
He paused before answering the final question. “There’s a gas station a few klicks our. More than you can probably walk at the moment.”
"No. I wasn't;..." Stopping himself, he chose not to diverge greater information. He didn't think saying he had been training with Sith would help him when speaking to Cedric, and it was the last thing in his mind. Right now, all he wanted was the metal shard out of his leg.
"Feth off. It's not funny."
Looking at the man, he took a few seconds to examine him. Unfortunately for him, he needed Cedric Grayson
"Forget the questions Just remove the god-damn thing." Grabbing Cedric's arm, the Epicanthix warrior squeezed it, while he also clenched his fist. It showed how desperate he wanted it out. Feeling his heart beat increase, he could feel the metal shard touch his born. It had penetrated deep into his muscle tissue, and it was also extremely large.
"I'm sorry. Just please remove it. I promise you won't hear a yell from me."
Healing had never been his forte, but years of conflict had forced him to adopt it in one sense or another. Normally he would have used some form of tool to remove the shrapnel from the stranger's leg, but he'd not not packed for a field dressing. Instead, he drifted his eyes shut, and reached out into the depths of the empyrean. He envisioned the Obsidian Knight's wounded limb within his mind's eyes, and delved deeper toward the cold void in its center that was the bloodied metal.
He focused in on the point where it was most embedded, and after a few moments' appraisal, decided on where he thought the weakest sports were. Without any verbal warning, Cedric tugged upon those places with an expression of telekinetic will, and the metal began to slide out of Illian's leg whilst making a sound that was most unpleasant. The process was far quicker than a proper surgery, and without anesthetics, far more painful, but it was required if he wanted to keep the limb.
Blood spurt wildly from the open wounds. Cedric quickly wrapped the leg in three full rolls of gauze, then did his best to encourage the regrowth of cells around the wound. It was no instantaneous healing more practiced Jedi were famous for, but it would speed up the process, keep it from getting infected. Cedric wasted no words as he'd march off into the woods for a moment, returning a few minutes later with a makeshift splint that he would apply to the wounded leg whether the Obsidian Knight protested or not.
"Well," he offered a grim smile, "You'll probably need surgery, but you're stable for now. You'll need to rest for a moment if you can. I don't have anything to treat you with if you go into shock." Cedric offered unclipped one of his canteens from his belt and offered it to the stranger. "It's rum. Should help with the pain. I'm Cedric, who might you be stranger?"
Illian could feel his body being ripped apart, the metal shard slowly coming out of his leg. Well, for him, it was a slow process. It was as if time had stopped. Nearly breaking his earlier promise, he bit his hand while clenching his fist. Attempting to sit still, he grabbed the Jedi Master's arm, and squeezed it, all his strength and pain being released toward that Cedric's arm. In the same way, he called on the force to aid him, to calm him down and keep him at bay.
While the healing process continued, closing his eyes, he reflected on the near-fatal injuries he had survived to get here. Slowly calming down, he released his grip on Cedric's arm, and stopped biting his arm. By the time he had done all of this, the metal shard had come out of his body, blood coming out as if a well of water had been found in the desert. The healing Cedric applied helped him significantly. Soon, it was all over, and he could move to the next thing.
Attempting to stand, he felt his body become heavy, and chose to sit back where he could.
"Thank you... um, Cedric, although it looks I'll be stuck here for a while. Night's coming fast. The name's Illian." he said, stretching his hand out. "I got to ask, what's someone like you doing here?"