In Purgatory's Shadow

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

STAR WARS​

EPISODE Q: IN PURGATORY'S SHADOW​

MYSTERY in the Outer Rim.

Study of the artifacts recovered from Tash-Taral has indicated that the historical villain known only as MALIGEA may have had a temple on the former Sith-held world of MAKEM TE. Dispatched from the Silver Temple on Voss, Jedi Master SOR-JAN XANTHA is joined by Chagrian Padawan RAKNARION AMEROK on a quest to discover if any of Maligea's evil might yet be waiting to be unleashed...

Spoiler: post theme music

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ak6l31HJ4c​

THE PLANET
MAKEM TE
SWOKEN SPACEPORT | CITY OF A THOUSAND THOUSAND

FOR a world barely a sector apart from Voss, Makem Te had a history that was as rich with conflict.

The Sith Empire, the Mandalorian Crusaders, the Great Republic, the Confederacy of Separatist Systems and more had marched parades of war-drums through the deserts of Makem Te. Perhaps, in that, things had come full circle for the Swokes Swokes. When once they had been ruled by the Sith from their imperial capital of Korriban, now were they guarded over by the Jedi.

In times past, when not under the foot of a Sith Empire or a Manda'lor, the Swokes Swokes had been guided by the Congress of Caliphs - a historical aristocracy that had come to prominence once again. And not to the detriment of the planet, as it seemed the Swoken Spaceport was buzzing with traffic; transports and freighters loaded down with precious ores and spices, bound for the Tingel Arm, the Stygian Caldera, or the Mid-Rim.

Navigating through the hub of congested traffic, the Alderaan Queen descended out of the heavens like a piece of space debris that had de-orbited. The Corellian YT-2400 was as old as she was ugly, or so most would have said. Beauty, the poet wrote, was in the eye of the beholder. And Corellian engineers were not known for their eyes.

Or their poetry for that matter.

The moment that the loading ramp had opened, the hot, arid desert air had come into the ship like a blowtorch. For any species that breathed, it might well have felt like trying to do so while choking on sand. And, for the very same, was likely while the tow-headed boy seemed so disconcerted with the fact. Anzat did not breathe.

He had changed out of the robes of a Jedi. Instead, the small boy wore the simple, lighter weight tunic of a youngling, or a Jedi Hopeful. Many would have found that to have been suggestive of something that was beneath his station, or insulting to the honor and prestige due one of his stature in their holy order. But if there was one thing that the youngling knight had learned, it was that comfort was far more utilitarian than was pride.

Like the ship, the strange Jedi vampire hailed from the worlds of the Corellian System. The youngling tunic he wore was, thus, a most unusual color; a deep, emerald green. It was the color of the standard that had once flown as the Corellian League, and thus entered into their culture as their own colorful identity. Another unusual addition was the Clone Wars era blaster pistol slung over his right thigh. About the only indication that he was really a Jedi Knight was the lightsaber clipped at his left hip. It was an old design, dating back to the Hyperspace Wars.

Which was exactly when he'd constructed it.

"We'll need to start by visiting the twelve caliphs who administer the city," the young Jedi remarked, his vibrant blue eyes sweeping back up the loading ramp to regard the Chagrian that had become his traveling companion. The student of Master Harofh, a Jedi who had become one with the Force. It wasn't surprising, or shouldn't have been surprising. The Jedi had been fighting drug czars around Kessel, slavers around Zygerria, pirates around the Wheel, and Sith in the Stygian Caldera. It was inevitable that one of them would fall, and yet it never ceased to surprise him when it happened.

That the Chagrian was here with him was a situation not fair to either of them. Raknarion had been understudy for years to Master Harofh. Sor-Jan knew what that was like, and he knew well the pain of losing one's master, even in battle. Except Sor-Jan had been a Jedi Knight when his own master had perished, and Raknarion was a pupil whose lessons were not yet complete.

And so the Council had, in its wisdom, asked that Sor-Jan step in to finish what Harofh had begun.

A blue accented BB unit came rolling down the loading ramp, chirping and whistling as it rolled. Glancing from the Chagrian to the droid, the deceptively young looking Anzat started to disembark the ship. As he stepped out from under the shadow of the Queen, the boy held up a hand to shield his eyes, as he scanned in search of the nearest caliphs palace.

As was their practice, the Order of the Silver Jedi left it to the people of their worlds to govern as they saw fit. In the case of Makem Te, ancestral aristocracies had once more risen to positions of political power and planetary authority. It was from them that the Jedi would need to receive permission to proceed, which meant that they could not ignore one another.

"There's quite a bit of ceremony. I expect we'll only get three done today. If that."

[member="Raknarion Amerok"]​

 

[Raknarion Amerok]

An annoyed grunt escapes the Chagrian as the ramp opens to reveal the charming first impression of the planet; A splash of sand onto his face alongside a proper smack with burning hot air. He was not in his most comfortable position, mostly due to his specie's aquatic origins. They're not used to deserts, though Raknarion would see it through with no issues. Raknarion continues with pulling a cowl over his face, offering a layer of protection against the planet's damned annoyances. With the cowl, The Chagrian donned a mostly brown and white Sasori Attire, with a lightsaber at his side.

The Chagrian glances down at his master as he'd finish enjoying the first brief moments of just taking in what the planet would offer the two. When he'd heard that a new master had been assigned to him, Raknarion imagined someone similar to his previous Master. How wrong he was. His new Master whom would see Raknarion through the trials was of ancient origin; an Anzat, Master Sor-Jan Xantha. While he had heard tales and legends on how the Anzat species' feed off others, he had no concerns. The Council wouldn't assign someone like that to a padawan if they couldn't rely on him.

As his new master began his descent off the ramp, Raknarion followed suit, eager to start.

"We'll have to meet with each one of these 'caliphs'? Are they of any importance to our mission or is it just a required courtesy we have to show the locals that we've business on the planet?"

Raknarion asked inquisitively, following up with a statement.

"Could always simply adorn some robes and blend in with the crowds, save us precious time?"

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Adorn some robes and slip on by...

The suggestion sparked a bemused smile across the young boy's face. Not for what was said so much as the impetus behind it. It was a rough plan, but a plan nonetheless. Within, it held all the precociousness of youth. At least, there was something to which he could relate. It was something he would have suggested were their roles reversed.

"These are customs that are important to these people," the boy noted, coming off of the loading ramp and walking out of the docking bay into the pedestrian traffic that swirled around the spaceport. Myriad vendors, shop keeps, all hocking their wares from rickety stands that made up a kind of dusty bazaar lining the narrow streets of the sprawling metropolis. Thousand Thousand was both the capital and largest metropolitan area of the planet. There was a definitely sense of being crowded as the Jedi disembarked. As they walked, the boy continued in casual conversation, "You and I, the Jedi, are strangers to them, who appear infrequently."

Many of the major political factions that had drawn up borders on the current galactic map were governments of a sort. The Order of the Silver Jedi was, by contrast, a league of aligned, independent worlds. It saved the Jedi from the exhaustive effort of administering a unilateral, interstellar government, but required that they work with, and respect, the governments that the people of their worlds put into place. "We protect this planet, but they administer it. In doing so, they do us a great service in tending to the needs of its people."

In other words, the Jedi needed the caliphs.

"And how better to demonstrate to them that their planet is important to us, then by honoring what is important to them?" the boy posed, craning his head back as he looked up at the larger padawan. It was meant to be a rhetorical question. Though, had someone put that question to him at that age, he'd have had a rather smart reply.

Besides, if some of Maligeia's secrets were hidden here... they had been so for thousands of years. Another week would change nothing.

[member="Raknarion Amerok"]​

 

[Raknarion Amerok]

The Chagrian answered with understanding.

"I see, Master Sor-Jan. I'll be sure to remember that as we continue."

As the pair exited the space dock, the view of a crowded street filled with what one would expect from a crowded market; Lots of people and lots of stands with people selling merchandise. While the two walked towards their destionation, Raknarion scans the surrounding stands and it's people. He could see people barter for food and items, heck, there was even a slight incident where a lovely female Twi'lek sent a slap for a Devorian's face after the merchant had suggested something un-professionally, Raknarion thought.

"Master Sor-Jan? Just curious, is there anything I should know of these caliphs? I'd like to show courtesy to them without accidentally mocking their culture. Heard some tales where guests are chased out due to them accidentally mocking the host's mother."

He shoots a glance at his Master as the question escapes him. He likes to be somewhat prepared, since ceremonies were mentioned before.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

As the pair ventured further into the streets and markets, it was likely becoming more and more apparently that death was a recurring theme.

Skulls. Bones. The symbols of mortality seemed pervasive, from actual denuded bone to candies shaped in all manner of skeletons, it was clear that the society and culture worshipped death. Zealously so. "The Swokes Swokes are a very religious people," the young Anzat remarked. A statement that extended to more than just the caliphs. But it was the starting point for understanding them. Them, and everything they represented.

And everything they sought to achieve. Materialism was so prevalent that it was common practice to surgically implant precious gems in their bodies. Vendors gleamed in the sunlight, as polished gems reflected the light.

As for the pertinent question, "There is more to their ceremonies than even they can remember," the boy cautioned. "Any many different religious ideaologies, each with its own variations." It made a more substantive answer largely impossible. They would need to know which religious faction that each particular caliph represented, and then that caliphs preferred manner of receiving guests. It simply wasn't feasible, so they would have to adapt as each situation unfolded.

As they arrived at the entry to one palace, the Anzat paused to look up at the taller padawan. "Be receptive. Be respectful. But, most of all, be flexible and realize you'll find yourself in situations where you don't know everything you need to."

As he glanced away again, the pair was greeted by an older model protocol droid. So much so, that it very well might have dated back to Sor-Jan's era and the Old Republic. Leaving them to wait, going to inform its masters that the pair were Jedi Knights seeking an audience with the caliph, they would now play a waiting game.

"Tea ceremonies are among the most common," the boy stated, as they waited. He hadn't been to Makem Te before, so he was racking his brain to try and recall bits an pieces from what he'd been able to gather from the Antarian Ranger's files on the planet, and his own recollections from the stories told by his master. "If there is a meal, it will likely be served in a common troth."

He tried to mask the rotation of his left forearm, as he stole a glance at the chronometer on the HoloLink that he wore on his wrist. Minutes crept by. Then an hour.

At one point, the Anzat had stepped away, on the pretext of needing to use a restroom. When he returned, a short while later, he reported, "Basic is rather... vulgar to their ears." He'd struck up a conversation with someone. Or attempted to, in any case. "Try and pick up the language, if you can."

The sun was sitting low in the sky when the protocol droid finally returned for them.

"The illustrious Zug Zug Aken'hoch will see you now."

Standing, the boy tugged on his tunic in order to smooth the front of it a bit. As they followed behind the droid, the boy offered this final piece of advice. "If you're not sure what to do, don't be afraid to trust your instincts."

[member="Raknarion Amerok"]​

 

[Raknarion Amerok]

The Chagrian had a bad feeling within him as the pair strolled through the death-theme'd streets of Thousand Thousand. Raknarion had never encountered a culture which worshipped death with such zealously. It gave him the creeps one could say. He pressed on alongside his Master nonetheless. He found himself annoyed at many occasions as well, being blinded by various reflects from gems that had been surgically placed on people's skin.

"Can't say that I've ever encountered such a place like this before."

The Chagrian nodded eagerly at Master Sor-Jan as he listed down the things he'd have to remember.

"Sounds like a plan, Master. Let's hope that we'll be flexible enough for the caliph's then."

---

As the pair had waited for about an hour, madness were about to manifest within Raknarion in the form of boredom and lack of patience.
"I'm guessing that protocol droid had some circuits fried up for some centuries ago, probably took a oil bath while forgetting about us!"

As Raknarion finished the sentence, he'd let out a sigh of relief, and hoped the droid didn't hear him.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

The illustrious Zug Zug Aken'hoth was one big motherkarker.

Large. Heavy. Brutish. Barbaric, even. A leather harness, studded with spikes, and adorned with skull imagery, cinched his massive form. Rolls of greasy, shale colored skill jutted out between the leather straps. Rubies and star sapphires gleamed, encircling his head in a crown made of jewels embedded into his skull. The harness showed off a body that was a veritable treasure trove of similarly studded gems, even down to the thick, club-like tail that rested on the ground beneath the gilded throne on which the large, aged Swokes Swokes reigned over his part and partition of Thousand Thousand.

The pair were just let into one of the antechambers, standing off to one side toward the far back of an expansive, palatial chamber with high vaulted ceilings and mountains of precious gemstones and skeletons. Smoke from charcoal braziers hung thick in the air, leaving a chalky film on the walls and ceilings that were constructed of cold, hard iron. The protocol droid indicated for them to stand there, then proceeded toward the middle of the room, where it then turned and addressed the two.

"Behold, Zug Zug Aken'hoth, the one hundred forty ninth caliph of Thousand Thousand and ruler of the Hundred Hundred. Speak, friend, and be recognized. But beware! Speak poorly and be dealt with the same."

"I'm not sure which one I'm more tired of already..." the young Anzat quipped, speaking in a low whisper so that only the Chagrian beside him might have heard.

Bowing, the green-clad youngling offered the salutations. "Greetings, O illustrious Zug Zug," the boy said, straightening up and then giving a sharp turn of his head to get the hair out of his eyes. "I am Sor-Jan Xantha, Jedi Knight and friend to Makem Te."

He paused there, so that the protocol droid could turn and provide translation for the Swokes Swokes. In all honesty, as the boy watched the caliphs body language, he got the impression that the brutish alien understand everything he was saying.

Gesturing now to the BB unit, which rolled forward, the boy bend down and recovered something from within the droid. "I honor the relationship between the Congress of Caliphs and the Jedi, and present to you this kyber crystal..." the child remarked, holding up a shard of a what would be familiar as a lightsaber crystal. "A gift, to demonstrate the good will our people share."

The droid started to translate, but was cut off by a sharply spoken word in Swoken. Bowing to its master, the protocol droid walked back toward the pair, this time motioning them toward the center of the room.

"The magnanimous Zug Zug Aken'hoth has determined you are worthy of an audience."

The spot to which they were led was still several meters away from the caliph. As they drew closer, the size of the brute -- as well as the body horror of those fat rolls overlapping the straps -- was only intensified. "Well, at least we've got his attention," the tow-headed Anzat mused quietly, as they were beckoned to sit.

"The most noble Zug Zug Aken'hoth is a female, good Jedi."

That revelation caused the Anzat just to turn his head and give a look, a mixture of shock and horror, up at the padawan. The boy's large eyes were wide, as he forced himself to look forward. There was quite a lot of Swokes Swokes to look at, even from this distance.

From the side rooms, servants brought two small tables, which they set in front of either of the pair, and atop which they presented tea and some questionably palatable cookies that were reminiscent of a decomposing animal.

Maintaining the same smile he'd come in with, the boy could be heard to murmur, "Remind me to thank Master Heavenshield for a lovely time..."

This was another fine mess she'd gotten them into to. And eleven more caliphs to go after this one...

[member="Raknarion Amerok"]​

 

[Raknarion Amerok]

The very sight of the Caliph made Raknarion winch slightly, though not visibly. The rather large Caliph reminded Raknarion of a Hutt, almost. They're both large and not pleasant to the eye, and both seemed to enjoy the pleasures of food. Though he had a feeling that the diet of the Caliph's might me slightly more unpleasant to the stomach than what the Hutts eat. The surroundings of the room they were within reminded The Chagrian of the streets. There were skulls where there shouldn't be, according to himself, he thought. A feeling hovered above him that they'd eventually offend one of the Caliph's and end up in a fight - Heck, it wouldn't surprise him if there was a welcome ceremony that'd include a fight to the death.

As Master Sor-Jan presented himself, Raknarion followed suitly in a courtly manner, like his master.

"And I am Padawan Raknarion Amerok, Your Graciously Zug Zug."

As Master Sor-Jan offered the crystal to the droid, an immidate thought came to his head that the presented crystal would soon find it's way implanted on the Caliph's skin. It gave him the shudders.

"Well, at least we've got his attention,"

"The most noble Zug Zug Aken'hoth is a female, good Jedi."

A gulp escapes Raknarion as the mistake occurs. Though it seemed like there was taken no offense of the mistake, the pair was lucky. Or so he thought until the offered welcome-meal was presented on the table. Along with Master Sor-Jan, The Chagrian takes a seat on one of the presented seats.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]