The First Man!

[GhostOfProtocol]

The lava planet, Mustafar. The sounds of the sloshing lava hitting across the banks, the heat being thrown up from the seas and rivers of lava. The odd few structures hovering above the fire below. An old Jedi starfighter, battered from a large fall and the flames lay discarded on the side of a bank, just twisted metal really.

Jardo​

Slowly he crouched. He had traced every book, every drop of literature back to this spot. The heat was throwing itself up from the lava rocking lightly in front of him. He knew what he was planning on doing, himself and Kay recruiting a small team. That small team was heading down south, the Kathol Rift. He was looking into the Rift, on the hunt for the Aing-Tii.

Thus he was on Mustafar. He wanted to find a way of getting through the rift without getting hit by the images and the hallucinations. After reading how Luke Skywalker had gone through, Jardo had a reason to believe that he had gotten through without any hallucinations. In an attempt to learn why Jardo had chosen to trace back the Skywalker family tree, trying to understand if anything in the family had allowed for the immunity.

Thus he'd traced back the Skywalker line to the last days of Anakin Skywalker, the place he'd allowed himself to fall to the darkside. He had managed to pinpoint a location close enough to the place Anakin's live body had been seen by the Skywalker's R2 unit.

He remained crouched for a moment, listening to the beat of the fire, eyes closed. He could feel the force that had been planted here, but nothing that would help him. However, it was peaceful. It was quiet, almost soothing if you could ignore the heat.

[member="Killian"]

 

[Killian]

"Follow the wind - but always watch your back."​

​

Mustafar was the Sith of planets. While other celestial bodies ran with water and provided land for crops, Mustafar only surged with lava; a heated and dangerous blood. It's rocky surface never provided food or cattle, only it's ores were of any help to the living. Even this one gift was a material rock taken to fund the greedy and corrupt. Even without the mark of a dark past, tied to a famous Sith Lord, Mustafar was a place of dark enough calling for any acolyte. This was why Killian had come, to experience it's harsh climate and learn it's legends. His training was underway, and any extracurricular activies would surely speed it along. However, he had not planned on encountering any trouble.

A tingle, a whisper in the wind. Someone was here, and he was no one Killian recognized. As he ascended over the rocky terrain, his keen eyes spotted the man. He gave off an aura close to the dark, but not submerged in it. Surely this was an enigma, one he would prefer to solve with haste.

"Identify yourself!" He shouted, his hand approaching the lightsaber holstered by his belt for caution's sake.

[member="Jardo Snow"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He heard the voice in the back of his head, and slowly shook his head. "My friend, you ask me to identify with no reason. What threat am I causing here?" he asked lightly, eyes still closed. He was using the sound of the footsteps on the gravel, amplified by the force to watch where he was.

His hand's crept from the crossed position in front of him. "I am someone you don't need to worry about. If you keep to yourself you won't cross me" he spoke, the words leaving his body with the icy chill he'd become accustomed to. Slowly he shook his head, allowing his hand to creep slowly towards where he kept his red lightsaber, the one he'd built out of his sweat.

"Okay?"

[member="Killian"]

 

[Killian]

Whoever this man was, he seemed foolish and overconfident. He assumed too much. "You call me friend, but you should know there are few who would call me that. I have reason to doubt you are even Sith. What are you? Some sort of cultist?" His eyes narrowed as the hilt of his lightsaber came into his hand from its holster. Either this man was a failure of a Sith, or an enemy of them. There was no middle ground in Killian's mind. With the press of a button, the red blade of his lightsaber ignited, matching that of the lava-filled surrounding. For now he angled it low, awaiting the reply of the stranger.

Awaiting his last words...

[member="Jardo Snow"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

"No part of me is Sith, but I once was" Jardo replied, still looking out over the lava banks. Slowly he listened to the ignition of the lightsaber behind him, feeling the energy that the red syth crystal that powered it was giving out. "I once sat as an Acolyte, learning from a master who mastered my skills. I once sat in the league of assassins in Malif Cove when the Jedi attacked" he spoke, the words forming daggers which were flicking in mid-air, striking Jardo.

Part of him regretted walking away from the One Sith. Part of him knew it was a bad idea but at the time he was rash, foolish almost. He let emotions run wild, especially after the fight with Mr [member="Solan Charr"]. He had been humiliated by the man, and perhaps in an attempt to hide himself had left. Then other things grew, the hatred that the One Sith had only taught him how to cause pain, how he sat within the Hutt Cartel as a spy to them.

He was in turn, glad he had walked away. He was using this feeling as motivation to break into the mind of the Sith behind him. He was using his picture it method, only this time he wasn't aiming to control the mind, nor was he aiming to break the mind like he had done before.

It was a trick he'd learned from Mr Charr, opening your mind and allowing the thoughts of all the death and all of the anger around you, allowing it to flood the person you were working with. That was a last resort though, first off he wanted to talk to this Sith, learn more.

"Why would you strike me down now?"

[member="Killian"]