Stolen Tranquility [ Jedi Praxeum ]

[Republic Engineering]

​

Unknown Regions // Eira Pechal // Early Afternoon​

Rare were the moments of Peace; in a Galaxy engulfed in the fires of ambition, and beset by the tides of chaos. They were often seen within one’s dreams as an unattainable goal that many would never live again to see. Especially if that dreamer was a soldier, marching under a stellar nation’s banner, and fighting against their enemies in the hopes of carving their rightful place amongst the stars. It was likely that such people would never be able to see the world that they built -- but they would undoubtedly see, and ultimately destroy another’s vision of tranquillity. While such thoughts were dark, especially for someone like me, they were also - sadly - true in many respects. Soldiers, no matter what leader they served, would always be set to the task of trampling another’s dream underfoot. It was the way of things -- something that was encoded into the depths of civilization itself; a cancerous tumour that could never be properly excised, no matter how skilled the surgeon.

In many interpretations of the Jedi faith, we were the Defenders of Civilization, and in many respects, Soldiers ourselves. While it wasn’t my belief that we should fight another’s war, I knew for certain that there would be others of my kind that would say that we should. It was our solemn duty, they’d say. To defend the weak by destroying the strong. Yet, for all of their passion - which, from a certain point of view, I admire - it was sadly misplaced. The Jedi lost sight of many things throughout the ages, and attacking others in the name of Peace and Justice was one of them. However, that was something I couldn’t change by sitting around - staring into the distance. I needed to be the change that I wanted to make; to embody what a Jedi should be and inspire others to follow in my footsteps. Like those Soldiers, I suppose one could say that I’d be trampling the dreams of others beneath my feet -- imposing what I believed to be the right path for the Jedi to walk down upon others. In many ways, I suppose that person would be right. I would essentially be trampling on decades of misguided history and bringing our Order back into the balanced state it needed to be in.

An impossible task, one could say, but it gave my life meaning.

Nevertheless, I was in no state to take to the stars and preach of times long forgotten. As fate would have it, I suffered quite the grievous defeat at the hands of a Sun Guard on the watery world of Mon Calamari, when the Sith Empire sought to despoil its oceans. Instead of dying on the streets of Coral City, my salvation came in the form of a band of Refugees that stole aboard the 'Avalon,' bringing me along with them. They managed to navigate through the closing noose of the orbital blockade and were eventually able to restore power to the hyperdrive to escape the Empire’s clutches. When I recovered my strength and had them unwire my jaw, I managed to guide them towards a safe port-of-call before returning home myself. As we parted ways, those Calamari Refugees gave me several of their worldly possessions; trinkets from their homeworld that they wished to give to me as thanks.

Amongst those items, which were pieces of their culture and consumables, was a new type of hot beverage that I’ve never tried before. Calamarian C-tea. Supposedly this blend of herbs came from the sea and held quite the interesting flavour when steeped in boiled water. At first, I wasn’t sure about the concoction but figured it would be considered rude if I didn’t at least try a cup before the batch expired. Since I was stuck planetside until my wounds healed, there wasn’t anything to lose but time. Who knows what it tasted like, and what effects it would have on me, but I believed it couldn’t be any worse than having a poisoned Sith Sword rammed into your chest. So, it was the morning after my return that I found myself sitting on one of the Praxeum’s balconies - admittedly close to the valley’s floor - looking out into the dense thicket that lay beyond the Pseudo-Temple grounds. Swaddled in bandages, and covered by one of our resident Healer’s cloaks, I endeavoured to enjoy this rare moment of peace to the fullest - knowing that I’ve paid the price to earn its sweet embrace.

The only thing that could ruin this - was if my tranquillity was disturbed by those residing within this academic shrine, or by chance-encounter with someone who didn’t really seem to belong.

[ [member="Cotan Sar'andor"] | [member="Kaya Neri"] | @Jedi Praxeum ]​

 

[Cotan Sar'andor]

Pffsh.

Pffsh pffsh.

pffsh pffsh pschew pschew

Cotan's lightsaber blade whipped around, catching both of the bolts fired from the training remote quickly. Each bolt deflected off, burying themselves in the dirt. He didn't allow himself any real satisfaction after the success, though; he'd been practicing Soresu long enough that he shouldn't have any trouble protecting himself from a training remote. Even using Makashi's scant training against blasters he'd be fine. He swung his blade around again, catching two more bolts in the single movement and sending them off into the building's outer walls.

Whoops.

He was slightly violating the praxeum's rules by practicing with remotes set to full-power bolts, so the walls had some carbon scoring after that. But, they were his remotes, and he technically didn't quite belong to the praxeum. After getting the big ship with Asha and setting that up, he didn't quite belong with the Je'daii either, let alone the Judges. He deflected another bolt, before a second remote floated over.

He kinda-sorta belonged everywhere. And nowhere.

If it works, it works.

One of the remotes flashed behind him. He turned slightly, and stepped back, bringing them both into view again. A heartbeat passed, and another salvo of bolts. One of them wasn't going to come anywhere near him, so Cotan didn't even bother with it; that had been one of the first lessons he'd learned. All the energy spent going after the ones that won't hit you is energy that should be spent on defending yourself from actual dangers. He just needed to figure out a less long-winded way of saying it for when he was training apprentices. The other three bolts were caught with a quick spin of his blade, one flying off into the atmosphere, another slamming into the dirt, and the third hit a tree.

"Is that the best you things can do?" he asked the droids sarcastically. In response, another two floated over. "Oh, right. Bloody responsive programming." Not that such things would ever keep him from making his jokes. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. If he tried to rely on his normal senses, he'd never pick up on what was happening fast enough to defend himself; given that he was using remotes set to lethal levels, that'd be a bit of a bad idea.

But with the Force, anything is possible.

At least, that's what his master always said.

Each of the remotes circled him, whooshing through the air as their repulsors carried them along. He'd always thought they were puffing out jets of compressed air, too, but apparently they didn't do that. Just a ton of repulsors all around, and they all made a weird sound when getting activated. Two of them came fairly close to him—a little too close to preserve themselves—while the other two stayed just a short distance away. His grip tightened slightly on his lightsaber, before each remote fired in quick succession.

Cotan quickly spun on his feet, his blade weaving a defensive pattern in the air. Two bolts flew off into the atmosphere, and the remotes that fired them were sliced in two and fell to the ground, useless. The third slammed head-on into the remote that fired it, causing it to explode in a shower of sparks. The fourth, as well, was returned to sender—but rather than striking head on, it skimmed the remote and damaged one of the repulsors.

That remote, rather than exploding or ceasing to function completely, instead did something fairly odd. The damage led to too much power being fed into the opposite-side repulsors, sending it flying off before it short circuited and shut down for good. Cotan watched as it flew up over a balcony, and he heard the dull thunk of it colliding into a chair and knocking it over. "Whoops."

He clipped his lightsaber to his belt and crouched down, gathering up his energy, before jumping up. He barely jumped high enough, although he was able to catch the balustrade, if only barely. He hauled himself up and over it after that, finding the carbon-scored remote, the chair it had knocked over...

And some other person up there, setting up a pot for something that smelled suspiciously like some sort of tea.

"Hello there!"

[member="Arcanus Sunstrider"] [member="Kaya Neri"]

 

[Irajah Ven]

Kaya lurked.

It was kind of what she did.

When you had too many adults looking out for you, it was either that or sit quietly and behave and never do anything fun.

Fark that.

She had been specifically lurking around the Praxeum grounds for months now. She hadn't been much interested in the Jedi aspect at first. It had been the off worlder aspect that had drawn her dark eyes peeping. Born and raised on Eira Pechal, she had grown up steeped in the lore and mores of the Jedi. But these people brought things that were strange and new. Technology that wasn't powered by water. Little cubes that lit up with tiny figures and voices. Tools that could be anything. Engines that actually worked. Plates that could heat food without fire, and boxes that could keep it cold without ice.

Mostly, if she were being honest, the Praxeum Jedi were boring.

They had really cool stuff though. And sometimes- sometimes- they did cool stuff.

Like right now. Kaya was crouched behind a hedge that ran along the wall, just beneath a balcony. She didn't know if the lightsaber or the remotes were cooler.

Okay, if she was being honest, the Jedi was also pretty cool, but she wouldn't ADMIT that.

Dark eyes peered o.o as he practiced. It was with some disappointment that he broke one of them and had to jump up to retrieve it (now wouldn't THAT be a handy trick, huh? Jump a story up, she could go ANYWHERE and no one would know).

Glancing up at the bottom of the balcony, the dark haired teen slunk out. Keeping half an eye over her shoulder, she couldn't see the figures up there because of the angle. The assumption that they couldn't see her in return was....

Well just kinda flat out wrong.

She wasn't going to steal one of the three remotes he left behind. Honest. She was just going to.... borrow it. Kaya had borrowed a couple of things from the Praxeum over the last few months. She'd returned all of them (when she remembered where she'd gotten them from, sometimes it just got left somewhere random, likely to the original owner's confusion).... eventually.

[member="Cotan Sar'andor"] [member="Arcanus Sunstrider"]

 

[Republic Engineering]

The scene that played out before me was one of beauty. It was a testament to nature’s resilience and capability of forging breathtaking landscapes when everything was perfectly balanced. There were no awe-inspiring citadels, forged of metallic flesh and crystalline glass, that dominated the horizon. There was little to no traffic that despoiled the skies, depriving the birds of their migratory flights. If one disconnected themselves from the tumultuous state of the galaxy, it was possible they could forget about civilization altogether; essentially bonding with their ancestor’s way of life long before they took to the stars. Such was the allure of nature to me, as it threatened me with a wonderful time - far away from the horrors of the battlefield and from the widespread sensations of terror and death. It took everything I had to tear my gaze away from the dense thicket of life, festering before the walls of the temple, and look towards the dented surface of the kettle.

Steam rose from the fluted spout as the water within began to reach its boiling point, signalling that the time had come to steep the Calamarian blend inside. Without much hesitation, I roused myself from the chair, and slowly placed the opened packets inside -- before replacing the lid and taking my seat once again. Sure, I would have to get up and pour the ocean-scented contents within a mug once the process was complete, but it gave me a chance to rest. The dull aches and the needling barbs of pain were starting to get on my nerves, which left me desiring a brief respite. At least the Temple’s healers would be pleased that I was taking it easy. The Force knows how many lectures I’ve endured since I returned from the Northern Reaches about how a Jedi of my standing should take more care of himself. That, men like me -- especially at my age, shouldn’t go galavanting around the stars in the hopes of spreading the Jedi faith to the fallen and forsaken.

As one would expect of a Jedi, let alone one that’s been granted the title of Master, I tolerated their lashing words and entertained the idea of offering my retort. Yet, I realized that such deeds would’ve been wasteful and would’ve invited emotional disaster, as they would’ve retaliated in their own way -- somehow making my life somewhat more chaotic in the process. It was something that wouldn’t have been worth the momentary petulance. With that being said, however, it was humorous to think about in hindsight.

With a pained smile coating my face, I slowly began to rise from the chair and moved towards the steeping kettle. Had everything gone according to my design, I would’ve poured myself a cup of this Calamarian blend, and settled down to relish its oceanic flavours. Sadly, it seemed that the will of the universe had other things in mind for me, as the sounds of combat - more likely training due to the remoteness of the temple and our surroundings - became all the more pronounced against the backdrop of chirping birds. A heavy sigh slipped through my lips, as I believed myself to be alone, only to find the truth of the matter was the exact opposite of what I desired. Now, I knew that the Force was playing games with me. Nevertheless, I wouldn’t let such a distraction ruin my moment of tranquillity. I’d simply have to tune it out and force myself back into my own little world.

Sadly, that became an impossibility as what looked like a training remote shot skyward and rocketed into the back of a nearby chair - narrowly missing my hand and the steaming kettle thereafter. I was surprised, as usually that model of remote would’ve been destroyed. But, it seemed that today of all days, proved that even the impossible could become possible. That surprise was carried further as there was a collection of energy that dragged my eyes away from the teakettle, and towards the balustrade. There, I would find myself locking eyes with a stranger, who clambered up over the protective railing and flattened his feet against the surface of the balcony. I couldn’t recall the man’s name, but there were times that I saw him around the temple. He had such a familiar face that I found myself nearly aghast at the prospect of forgetting who he was. Maybe, the fellow Jedi was a clone? It was a large galaxy, after all, and there seemed to far too many similar faces out there in the galaxy.

As soon as the moment past, the figure greeted me with an all too familiar phrase that brought a smile to my face. In return, I almost instinctually offered a response that was more befitting of a military man, rather than someone of the cloth. “Greetings,” I said, after swallowing the urge to offer forth a knowing chuckle, and the referential reply. “I take it this is your training remote?”

My words were accompanied by a bandaged hand, that pointed at the fallen chair and the aforementioned item that rested proudly atop. Without waiting for his answer, I began moving towards the simplistic bannister; slowly at first. My body began to ache more, in the man’s presence, and I felt the sudden urge to brace myself against something that was significantly more sturdy than a chair. Breathing heavily, and almost limping with every stride, my hands found themselves wrapping themselves around the relative safety of the handrail. With the weight of my wounded form resting against the strength of the barrier, I began to marginally recover from the partially surprising ordeal. Normally, I would’ve caught the remote with my hands before it did any damage, returned it to the man training below, and carried on about my business - but the devaronian blood poison was making even trivial things more difficult than they should be.

“It seems that we’ve got ourselves a batch of malfunctioning bots,” I said between ragged breaths, and seemingly adopting a distant demeanour. “Perhaps we should talk to the local artisans and see what they can do with them.”

Little did I know, that even though I seemed to lose myself in a one-sided conversation, our party of two would begin to grow by the most unexpected of visitors.

| [member="Cotan Sar'andor"] | [member="Kaya Neri"] |​