Vaegon Dolmyrian
Character
The stiff bristles of a broom met ancient stone. Vaegon swept. In the silence of the early morning, he exposed the ancient stone where Jedi had once trained with their lightsabers. Carefully, he worked a whisk broom to clean out the seams between the flagstones. Moss and dirt had accumulated over centuries of neglect, obscuring the original carvings etched into the stone. The Jedi's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and muddy water stained his robes. A large metal pail filled with muddy water and several tools lay beside him as he worked.
There was a far easier way to complete this task.
For the last two weeks, the Jedi had done the work by hand. He could have easily cleared the area with the Force in a matter of hours. Yet there was a certain satisfaction and therapeutic value in physical labor. After fleeing the Core in the wake of the Sith's advance and the fall of the Galactic Alliance, Vaegon found the simplicity of manual labor enjoyable. He set the broom aside and stretched his back.
The temple had seen better days. Towers and chambers had crumbled, and nature had reclaimed the walls, leaving them fractured. Large portions of the interior chambers had collapsed in on themselves, leaving behind piles of stonework that would take equipment and many people to clear. Yet the courtyard was beginning to resemble its former self. Vaegon had restored the weapon racks and cleared away the debris surrounding the ancient lightsaber forge, repairing it in the process. It was a far cry from anything on Vur Tepe, but it could still forge modern lightsabers, provided the forger possessed the necessary skill in the Force and strength of body.
On the weapons racks, the Jedi Master had placed several rattan sticks and bo staffs for practice. There were even several lightsaber casings and a few spare lightsabers of various kinds. He had also found two songsteel staffs and placed them beside a table holding vibroblades and knives. Everything was worth preserving.
Alongside the training courtyard stood several small buildings near the forge. He had cleared them out and established a makeshift home. There was no electricity, and the accommodations resembled a campsite more than a proper residence. Yet he had food, and he had discovered a small waterfall and pond that provided a source of fresh water.
As the day gave way to evening, he finally finished sweeping the center of the flagstone circle. Setting the broom aside, Vaegon retrieved his lightsaber. Earlier that day, he had activated his Jedi transceiver, sending an encrypted message to the dedicated comlinks of surviving Jedi, inviting them to join him. Vaegon had neither the inclination nor the authority to restore the temple or the fallen Jedi Order of the Galactic Alliance. Yet other Jedi could find safety here. They could rest, train, and meditate, far removed from the troubles of the galaxy. Vaegon hoped they would come.
A brilliant, cold blue blade sprang to life with a familiar snap-hiss. Its sound and color were all too familiar to Vaegon.
He stepped into the circle, brought the blade into a formal salute, and settled into the opening stance of Makashi. The ancient silence of the temple was broken by the hum and sweeping whoosh of a moving blade.
There was a far easier way to complete this task.
For the last two weeks, the Jedi had done the work by hand. He could have easily cleared the area with the Force in a matter of hours. Yet there was a certain satisfaction and therapeutic value in physical labor. After fleeing the Core in the wake of the Sith's advance and the fall of the Galactic Alliance, Vaegon found the simplicity of manual labor enjoyable. He set the broom aside and stretched his back.
The temple had seen better days. Towers and chambers had crumbled, and nature had reclaimed the walls, leaving them fractured. Large portions of the interior chambers had collapsed in on themselves, leaving behind piles of stonework that would take equipment and many people to clear. Yet the courtyard was beginning to resemble its former self. Vaegon had restored the weapon racks and cleared away the debris surrounding the ancient lightsaber forge, repairing it in the process. It was a far cry from anything on Vur Tepe, but it could still forge modern lightsabers, provided the forger possessed the necessary skill in the Force and strength of body.
On the weapons racks, the Jedi Master had placed several rattan sticks and bo staffs for practice. There were even several lightsaber casings and a few spare lightsabers of various kinds. He had also found two songsteel staffs and placed them beside a table holding vibroblades and knives. Everything was worth preserving.
Alongside the training courtyard stood several small buildings near the forge. He had cleared them out and established a makeshift home. There was no electricity, and the accommodations resembled a campsite more than a proper residence. Yet he had food, and he had discovered a small waterfall and pond that provided a source of fresh water.
As the day gave way to evening, he finally finished sweeping the center of the flagstone circle. Setting the broom aside, Vaegon retrieved his lightsaber. Earlier that day, he had activated his Jedi transceiver, sending an encrypted message to the dedicated comlinks of surviving Jedi, inviting them to join him. Vaegon had neither the inclination nor the authority to restore the temple or the fallen Jedi Order of the Galactic Alliance. Yet other Jedi could find safety here. They could rest, train, and meditate, far removed from the troubles of the galaxy. Vaegon hoped they would come.
A brilliant, cold blue blade sprang to life with a familiar snap-hiss. Its sound and color were all too familiar to Vaegon.
He stepped into the circle, brought the blade into a formal salute, and settled into the opening stance of Makashi. The ancient silence of the temple was broken by the hum and sweeping whoosh of a moving blade.