Private Tears Of Tython | Tales of the Watchman

[Henna Ashina]

A few years ago, in a galaxy far, far away…
Shortly after the Shatterpoint
Kato Zakar
Bernard

In the centuries since the ancient battles of their predecessors had ceased to haunt the sacred grounds of Tython, the firelands had settled into a rhythm, a testament to the planet's renewed harmony. The slumbering volcanoes, like ancient behemoths, would stir from their dormancy once in a generation. Their awakening was a slow dance, akin to a bear emerging from hibernation, granting the semi-nomadic dwellers ample time to pack their makeshift homes and seek refuge along the coastline. With a symphony of smoke plumes and distant rumbles, nature's warning echoed through the valleys, signaling the imminent eruption. And when the infernos finally unleashed their fiery passions, they did so with a fierce yet transient intensity, receding into dormancy once more, as if sated by their tumultuous display. Yet, the resilient people always returned, for Mother Tython, in her divine benevolence, offered redemption amidst the aftermath of her wrath. It was from the fertile volcanic ash that prosperity blossomed, where perhaps the best caf beans took root in the rich soil, perpetuating the cycle of tradition and renewal.

But then came the Maw, a disruptive force that dared to disturb the slumbering giant. The initial magma cooled, as it always had, but beneath the surface, a disquiet lingered. The townsfolk, in their naiveté, mistook the temporary calm for a blessing bestowed by the Force. Henna and Bernard knew better. They tread upon unsteady ground - where the symphony of the balance had devolved into discordant cacophony. Nature's elements rebelled against their ordained roles, all across their planet’s surface – lightning danced upon snow-capped peaks, deserts whispered songs of lament, and the once tranquil oceans roiled with unrelenting fury, swallowing islands whole. The volcanoes, once tamed by the passage of time, simmered with a restless energy, devoid of the familiar warning signs.

And so, the guardians embarked on their solemn mission to persuade the resilient nomads to abandon their ancestral hearths, to forsake the comforts of tradition for the uncertain promise of a new dawn. As their shuttle descended upon the rugged terrain, Henna cast a wary glance towards her Arkanian counterpart, a silent acknowledgment of the weight of their task. They would convince these people to leave, or their deaths would lay at their feet.

"These people are unlike our others charges.” she cautioned. "Though we may think they possess little, their wealth exists outside material bounds. We must approach them with humility, lest we offend their noble pride. Any offerings are to be gratefully accepted. It shows we are their equals.”

As always, the seer had done her research.

"I sense..."

Henna's words trailed off, her mind ensnared by the labyrinthine visions that haunted her waking hours, a legacy of Asmundr's passing. The veil of the future hung heavy upon her, casting shadows upon the present.

“Trouble.” She frowned, not able to fully focus on the path before them. “Not the townsfolk, but something darker.”

 

[Bernard]

"I will follow your lead with them," Bernard replied.

Henna was the expert on matters of Tython, and Bernard had visited the world fewer times than he could count on one hand. In all matters regarding the planet, he turned to her expertise for guidance, and this time would be no exception.

"I sense..." Henna continued.

Her tone made Bernard perk up.

"Trouble. Not the townsfolk, but something darker," she continued.

"Something darker?" Bernard asked.

Bernard looked out at the landscape beyond as the landing ramp descended, the gesture anchoring his awareness through the Force. He reached out, metaphysically, to let that awareness wash over the landscape ahead.

The scars of the Brotherhood's attempted destruction of Tython had muddied the Force. Where once he'd been able to see through the Force on Tython like a clear, freshwater lake, now, following the devastation, it resembled an ocean in turmoil. Blood darkened the waters and the remains of the passed war had yet to settle onto the seabed.

Bernard strained himself to see, but the murk clouded his vision. He cursed inward, and turned to Henna.

"I can't sense much in the Force with all this devastation," he said.

He took the first few steps down the landing ramp, heavy boots falling on ash-covered dirt with soft crunches. It caked the sides of his boots black. The ash below his feet felt much different from snow. He hadn't expected that.

"But if there's danger we should make for the town as quickly as we can, they may need more substantial help than our pleas alone."

Henna Ashina

 

[Henna Ashina]

In response to Bernard's prompt, they wasted no precious moments. The port lay within a stone's throw of the town, strategically positioned to afford sufficient distance in the event of an eruption, allowing for an evacuation before the fiery embrace of magma devoured any ship. The seer, seemingly attuned to the terrain's rhythms, moved with a grace born of familiarity. Prior to establishing roots within temple sanctuaries, her existence was a nomadic odyssey through realms forgotten and uncharted. Oh, to be young again. The prospect of traversing the land once more stirred an excitement lost to time and duty.

As they ventured forth, the townsfolk's demeanor betrayed a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, their gazes widening at the sight of Henna's garb, marking them Jedi. A child, propelled by youthful curiosity, darted towards a sprawling tent, emerging moments later with a portly figure in tow. An unseen directive prompted nearby women to approach, extending greetings to the duo.

"Hello," Henna intoned with a respectful bow as they converged at the wall. "I am Master Sarratt, and this esteemed companion is Knight Bernard."

"I am Asha," came the weary reply, tinged with a hint of skepticism. "To what fortune do we owe this unexpected visitation?"

"Regrettably, no fortune graces our presence today," Henna sighed. "We arrive bearing a warning. The specter of eruptions looms over this land, unpredictable in its timing. We advise you to evacuate immediately - our order stands ready to provide assistance should you require."

A myriad of emotions flickered across the faces of the townsfolk in response to the counsel offered. Asha, the harbinger of pragmatic resolve, offered a wry snort, while her companions' reactions ranged from bemusement to thinly veiled offense.

"I would tell you to kick ash and make back to your ship," Asha remarked dryly, "but you are lucky. Our alderman has graciously consented to receive you. Come."

Guided into the expansive tent that had earlier captured Henna's attention, they were enveloped in an atmosphere redolent with the heady fragrance of zeilla incense, its tendrils intertwining with wisps of smoke to infuse the space with an aura of mystique. Seated amidst the ethereal haze, a familiar face greeted Henna's eyes, though now adorned with the distinguished crown of greying locks.

"Alderman Zotai," Henna acknowledged with a reverent bow.

"Sarratt. Master, now?" the alderman mused with a twinkle in his eyes. "Ah, news travels swiftly even to these remote reaches. And your stalwart companion... Watchman and Knight, Bernard of Arca. Welcome, dear children. Be seated. Henna, do you still favor grey tea?"

Eyes brimming with anticipation fixed upon the visitors as Alderman Zotai gestured for them to speak their purpose, awaiting their persuasive entreaty.

"I expect I know your purpose. Sit, and tell me the galaxy is ending."

 

[Bernard]

Bernard watched the villagers with concern. Too many of them struck him as thin or lethargic. Moreover, there was a sense of unease that permeated the sparse crowd. Their faces formed an unwelcoming wall against Bernard's curiosity. Not that he had much in the first place, but he rather enjoyed learning through observation.

As discussed, Henna led their interactions with them. Bernard was even more a foreigner to these people than she was. Their attitude spoke of their misgiving towards foreigners, even those they knew well. Though Bernard wasn't fully privy to the details of Henna's standing among them, she faired a better chance at convincing them than he could.

Bernard followed Henna inside the tent, but stalled near the entrance. He crossed his arms and kept a small gap open between the tent walls and the entrance cover. An old habit from when he'd still server the Marshals, before the Hyperspace War. He kept watch while Henna discussed, nodding his greeting at the mention of his name.

Henna Ashina