Faction Library Hours: Detention (New Jedi Order)

[Sol Lupercal]

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Braze Oros

Shaking off the disoriented feeling, Sol raised his gaze to both of them, the hazy vision gradually clearing. "From what I could discern, it looked old, ancient in design but surprisingly intact."

Steadying himself, he shifted his attention to Master Oros, "There were some star patterns, but I'm not overly familiar with them." As he spoke, he traced what he could remember of the patterns into his datapad. "There was also a statue, presumably a Zeffo, holding another astrium."

A small half-chuckle escaped his lips, and he glanced toward Braze, saying, "Temple fires build character, don't they?"

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Oros Sol Lupercal

"Oh... we're allowed to touch it?" Braze's voice carried a hint of surprise, quickly followed by a defensive tone, "No, I'm not nervous or anything like that." His words stumbled out, a squeak of indignation escaping him at the mere suggestion. His gaze lifted once more to the imposing stature of the statue, dwarfing him in comparison, as he absorbed Sol's words. Perhaps it was permissible to interact with it after all.

"What exactly is a Zeffo?" Braze inquired, the term unfamiliar to him, his curiosity now reaching a peak that couldn't be ignored. With a newfound interest, he extended his hand, his fingertips brushing against the statue's cold, unyielding surface.

 

[Oros]

RESTRICTED SECTION
Sol Lupercal Braze

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Marvelous work, padawan.

Oros lifted a tentacle and the mirialan padawan's datapad floated out of his hands. Lacking eyes to see their strange custodian could still perceive crude images with the Force's aid. He could show this drawing to another humanoid librarian who might describe some of the finer details later. Perhaps the Order's vast database would find a match somewhere as well.

"What exactly is a Zeffo?"

Zeffonian sages predate even the earliest Jedi traditions, the Jedi Master recited as if from memory, Their culture spread across the galaxy before our recorded history. All that is left are remnants of their great works and faint echoes in the Force.

Braze reached out to touch the artifact. Master Oros could sense the Force move darkly through alien metal but he was powerless to stop the padawan's mind from conjuring a dark altar lit by dim candles. Braze's eyes grew distant and neither Oros nor Sol witnessed a giant creature like the one he had drawn writhing against chains while cowled phantoms chanted in a circle around this place of terrible sacrifice.

One of the hooded priests lifted a ritual athame in long fingered alien hands before plunging the blade down.

Braze? You look pale.