King of the Mountain [Na'Varro vs Van-Derveld on Kashyyyk]

[Aran Finn]

Kashyyyk, on the slope of its greatest peak...​

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Enter Alen Na'Varro...​

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The Force was a concept that transcended the borders of space and time, existing in its own dimension entirely. It deigned to visit the lives of those it touched, its tendrils reaching across universes and timelines to affect events in the past, future and simultaneous to the present. It was ... simply, it could not be truly understood from a sentient standpoint. Not even a Muun had the processing power to rationalise it, and not even the most powerful of Jedi, Dark Jedi or Sith could truly claim to have the wisdom to see it and love it for what it was. For that was what understanding truly was. Love, or something similar to that. Perhaps that was the barrier between Alen and Masterhood. Perhaps he had been wrong all along.

The bearded man reflected on the Force in this way for it was the reason that he had revisited this mountain. Eight hundred and seventeen years ago, a Sith Knight by the name of Raien Keth had cast him into the very abyss he stood over now. The Wookies had rebuilt the rope bridge that spanned this chasm, probably several times since Alen Na'Varro had visited here last. Several times since Keth had sliced the bridge from its moorings while Alen had sprinted across it. He had survived that, but not the brief but brutal clash that followed it. Alen could feel the effects of the Force altering his perception of the place. He could feel the history here; he could almost see it. Eight hundred and seventeen years ago these events had taken place, yet they were also happening right now. It was now that Na'Varro was finally getting a sense of what the Force truly was. It seemed not to be an entity itself ... it was something on a different realm of existence.

Now the Dark Jedi stood facing the rope bridge that spanned the twenty-five metre long chasm. Below him the chasm stretched, darkness obscuring the bottom from the human eye. A cliff face stood behind him, twenty metres high, with ledges dotting the cliff face all the way to the top. To his left was an alternative path, a thin windy goat track that led to the summit, albeit longer and perhaps less dangerous for a non-Force user. But Alen was in the centre of it all. The scene revolved around him for now.

The Dark Jedi stood, cloaked in furs, and awaited the reckoning which he knew was coming.

@[member="Ket Van Derveld"]​

 

[Ket Van-Derveld]

The Force was a strange thing, when one delved into it far enough. It linked all things, through time and space, through countless dimensions of existence. No one being understood truly the inner workings of the Force, and even the most experienced mind could find itself stumbling through it like an infant taking it's first step. The Sith only saw the power it brought. The Jedi saw the potential for peace within it. The Miraluka used it as a means to see the physical world. Dathomiri witches used it as the backbone of their primitive magic. But others, they could begin to see the Force for what it truly was. The Force was more than a tool. It was a friend, a confidant, an enemy, a lover, a son, a mother, joy, despair, and so much more. And when you listened to it, it could tell you the very secrets of the universe. It could call to you, it would bring you places you never thought you would go, to the feet of people you never intended to meet. Such was the nature of the Force this night, as The Deceased Star cruised high above the surface of Kashyyk. The cargo bay door was open as the winds whipped through the dark sienna hair of Ket Van Derveld, his ebon hooded cloak whipping outward, sapphire eyes looking down into the abyssal night below.

He had answered the call of the Force, drawing him here to the fringes of Republic space. Someone or something was down there, waiting for him. What exactly, he did not know. But the Templar Master was not foolish enough to disregard the Force when it beckoned him. Clad in MX-00 Templar Armor, he stepped out to the lip of the cargo bay door, and let himself fall from the edge, knifing through the air like a guided proton torpedo. The Force was his ally, and through it, his body was kept safe as he came closer to the surface of the mountain. Contorting his body, he called upon the Force to slow his decent down to something quite survivable, landing in a crouched position a few feet away from a rope bridge that led across a chasm of inky black nothingness. As he stood up, he said nothing as he looked across to the fur-clad man standing on the other side.

Soon, he would know why the Force had brought him here, and what purpose the meeting would serve.

 

[Aran Finn]

OOC: Sorry for the wait, bro. Invasions ...

Enter Ket Van Derveld...​

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He approaches. The wind seemed to step things up in reply. He could hear it now, the particles whistling past his ears and onwards to an unknown end. It was like they had somewhere more important to be ... somewhere safer, away from the confrontation that was inevitable. For there would be a clash here, the Force had determined that fate at the beginning of time itself. Na'Varro and Van Derveld were just vessels of the Force's will, with only the illusion of free will. The fact that they were both here on Kashyyyk, with no ulterior motives apart from the beckoning of the Force, was testament to that. What was in store for them was an elusive mystery, and they had no recourse but to march forward and confront their destiny. Which might end with one of them falling. Na'Varro resolved to not be that man.

Alen noted the way that the other man entered his world approvingly. Dropping from the sky, like a jack-knife thrown true. It was stylish and it was efficient. A rare, beautiful combination ... even has he prepared to fight this man to the death, the man from Ascension held some sort of respect for that. There was doing things, and then there was doing them right. As the Master landed, Alen almost felt like applauding him. But he didn't ... somehow, he thought that his appreciation might be taken the wrong way.

"You must be my reckoning!" He howled across the chasm and through the wind, his voice reaching the other man despite the odds. Drawing one of his two lightsabers, he did not ignite it as yet. "Very well ... the Force has waited long enough. Let's not keep it waiting."

With his back to a wall, Alen Na'Varro prepared to fight for his life ... against the odds.

@[member="Ket Van Derveld"]​