Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The gas giant’s most famous moon

Geel Zlta

We don’t have to win, we only have to fight
“It's where all the idealists hang out, I hear.”
― Han Solo

Yavin. The big red one. In its own right, it is little more than a footnote in history – but one of its three habitable moons, on the other hand, that had some history behind it.

The fourth moon of Yavin had been occupied by many different sentient species over thousands of years of galactic history – the native, although ultimately doomed Massassi, slain by Exar Kun; Humans serving the masters of the Sith, the Jedi, the Republic, and the Rebellion; and, according to legend, at least one Rodian.

Many stories of Yavin 4 were just that – stories. But, Geel noted, in every myth there was a grain of truth. Maybe the name of the planet changed, or the size of the haul – but there was no such thing as an empty rumour in his limited experience. And what separated the men from the boys was the ability to see that grain of truth for what it was.

Currently, history would mark Geel as a boy.

Most started a treasure hunt at the huge, pyramidlike structures that even orbital scans could pick up. They were currently situated on the far side of this moon from Geel. Sure, they were packed with treasures and loot. Except that fact was true over 4,000 years ago.

Geel was here to find something – anything of value. He was an independent operator with morals. Breaking the law was out – unless it resulted in the downfall of the dark-side. But for personal gain? His ethics did not allow for any misdemeanours. So he either found routine work to pay the bills, or – or, as his recent exploits had led him to – he recovered artefacts to fund his one-man crusade to rid the galaxy of dark-siders forever.

It was how he’d scraped enough credits together to buy this old ship. The one he was currently hanging upside-down from in his safety harness in the cockpit. And even upside down, what he saw scared him.

###

In hindsight, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. His antiquated droid was carrying out repairs to the hull and cockpit and he figured the ship would be able to go back into space in a day – two tops.

He looked around for more of the ripe blue grenade fungi, a curious local species that spreads its
spores via explosive combustion. A cluster would have been enough to destroy the ship – and Geel too. As it was, the one he’d spied shattered the cockpit window and did mostly superficial damage.

The air had hit Geel like a wet sock. The Yavin moon is a jungle planet, and the atmosphere is practically steam. But Geel was doing his best to ignore the fact as his scanner showed that – below the tree line, there was a small set of ruins ahead.

Little is still known about the ancient builders of the fortresses on this moon. No one knows how they were able to cut and transport huge stone blocks from the crust of Yavin 4, or how those blocks were transformed into huge towers.

Night fell quickly. The tropical humidity had given way to an unusually balmy evening. Massassi leaves rustled in the cool breeze and Geel could not ignored a sense of dark clouds on the horizon, the air heavily laden with doom.

He looked up. A lambent glow from the setting gas giant streaked the sky; the Massassi trees rose tall, spreading their many-branched silhouettes against the deepening purple. Stars poked out, lights twinkling through a cloak of blackness.

And Geel could not shake the feeling of dread. Maybe it was because he was alone. Alone and without an obvious weapon – save a wholly unreliable blaster – and the flight suit he was dressed in. But he knew, deep down, it was more than that.

He sensed the dark-side.

[member="Jamie Pyne"]
 
No longer did Jamie travel unprepared. Far too many times in the past had she been caught off guard, whether by Sith, Knights of Ren, beasts, or simple hostility of the planet. Too frequently was she in situations that were entirely avoidable if she had only packed necessities for the unlikely events that would inevitably unfold. No, this time she was wholly prepared for whatever came her way, or at least, far more prepared than history had shown. On her back she carried a pack, a week's worth of food, water, and a medical kit. Two changes of clothes, a knife, a small holdout blaster, and a rebreather. At her hip swung Rominaria, her armor was lightweight and mobile, and even her contact lenses lent themselves to the harsh jungle environment, helping to maintain a proper perspective of her surroundings at all times.

That didn't make the moon any less dangerous though. Everything right down to the plant life could be used to kill an unsuspecting traveler.

Hundreds, if not thousands had made the excursion to Yavin IV in the past. For Jamie, this was a first. She'd already explored Prakith, she'd come face to face with a Sithspawn, fought against a Sith Pureblood not once, but three times, and survived those encounters. Yavin was another stepping stone on her journey of understanding and exploration of the Force. Though her excursions over the past year had been few and far between, given her role as Queen of Naboo, the title came with certain restrictions and responsibilities, ones that did not include exploring ancient tombs and ruins of long since dead relics of time.

For now Shyela, her double, could maintain the calm of Naboo in her absence. The Force had called her here, it was destiny, she could feel it deep within her.

Pushing through the thick overgrowth atop the marsh and weaving between a pair of several hundred year old trees that stood strong she caught sight of the densely covered ruin beyond the hill. It had been several days trek from the only available landing site she could locate within the thickly shrouded jungle. Taking a moment to drop her pack gently onto the mossy surface beneath her feet she shimmied a canteen from the side pouch and took a few small sips of water, the cold contents hitting her lips a much welcome delight. A moment later she twisted the cap back on and hoisted the pack up and over her shoulders once more, making her way down the hill towards the temple that loomed menacingly at its base.

[member="Geel Zlta"]
 

Geel Zlta

We don’t have to win, we only have to fight
Geel should have been prepared. The reduced humidity and temperature came at a cost. Without warning, a heavy, warm rain sheared through the jungle, pattering on the glossy leaves. But the young Force sensitive ignored it, or rather accepted it, as he trudged along the wet pathways through the undergrowth heading to the small temple. Droplets of glittering water slid from his worn flight-suit – like everything else he ‘owned’ it was second hand at best.

The orange hue of his uniform darkened – in some ways a reflection of the open patches of leaden dusk sky through the tall trees. The rain coated his face with a covering that traced the contours of his chin and ran into the hollow of his throat. It would be easy to have taken the gloom and storm as an ill omen – especially with the dark taint he’d sensed before, but it was equally true to surmise that rain brought life to the jungle moon, and it was at least a change from the humid sunshine he’d been expecting.

He walked through the underbrush, and noted that even the birds and insects remained subdued, hiding under the shelter of thick leaves from the downpour.

He headed down an embankment to a narrow river that sliced through the jungle, a ribbon of greenish water that teemed with life.

Across the river and through the rain, Geel could see the ruins of the Massassi temple.

As Geel stopped at the bank, his feet squished into the mud. It reminded him of an old lesson – back in his days as a Padawan. A time when he still learned new things. As much as the Order frustrated him, he missed the aspect of development – one thing the Jedi Code got right. At times he considered returning, tail between his legs. But he never took his own threat too seriously. He’d exercised freedoms his own code of conduct deemed allowable that he knew the Jedi would not permit. For him, the end always justified the means.

“The river flows…” he said out loud, the memory vivid. “As does the Force. Never ending, always moving.”

He shook his head and drops of water cascaded from his sodden hair. “And I must walk the path less travelled,” he continued, now speaking words from his own thoughts, not those of some Jedi Master long gone. “Because someone has to.”

He picked his way across the water – taking each step cautiously, until he finally reached the other side. He squelched his way in the bank on this side of the river, his boots had long ago lost their water-proof properties.

“This had better be worth it,” he said, finally – heading towards the temple, which was no more than a dozen metres in front of him.

[member="Jamie Pyne"]
 
Beneath a dense patch of trees, low hanging branches and age old brush underfoot she found traversing the jungle was made all the more difficult by just how inhospitable the air itself was. No sooner had she taken a moment's break to drink did she need to again. Heavy beads of sweat ran down the back of her neck, temple, and cheeks. She could feel the damp cloth of her shirt pressed against her back and the pack she carried. The incline of the slope leading towards the temple was further an obstacle to overcome. One false step could easily lead to a broken ankle, or a nonstop slide to the base of the hill. Jamie had already received a small number of scratches and scrapes from squeezing between the sharpened branches of trees.

"Just a little further..." She said to herself, nearing the clearing at the foot of the hill.

A fleeting reprieve in the form of a light gust broke through the densely packed trees, though the closer she got to the temple the more it became apparent that even once inside it was unlikely to be any more welcoming. The air would be stale, on top of repressive. An ancient ruin eroded by time, forgotten by man, and left to nature. Whether or not it was even still able to be explored would be a question. Several hundred years of exposure to the elements was likely to take its toll on the integrity of a structure made largely of stone.

[member="Geel Zlta"]
 

Geel Zlta

We don’t have to win, we only have to fight
The taint refused to go away. Was that some vindication that his effort were worthwhile? Would he stumble across the battle armour of Exar Kun, or was he more likely to happen to disturb an annual gathering of Sith Lords on a picnic? If he believed in luck, he’d go for the latter — and the pragmatist in him settled on neither. But the dark sided taint stood for something — even if it were some Dark Jedi, or ancient artefact, it would make his journey worthwhile.

Geel was invariably an optimist. It did not occur to him that he might die here — that wandering around in some ancient ruins with only a dodgy blaster to protect himself was a bad idea.

A very, very bad idea.

He plodded forward — or rather sloshed — the water in his boots making a squelching noise as he walked, and he found the experience uncomfortable too. But he was a Force user, and above such trivialities. At least in theory.

As he progressed, he felt a strange sensation and stopped walking for a moment. The taint was not directional — it was a general feeling. But the new sense was specific — and originated from…the opposite side of the structure.

Geel had received no training since his Youngling days, so had few abilities to work with. The plus was that — given a limited selection of tools — he’d learned to use them well. Force Sense was one such ability, and he could feel someone heading towards him, albeit from the other side of the temple. And the someone had a light-sided aura. Were they driven by the same desire to find something of value? Or were they here for the dark-sided taint?

Geel was ever a pragmatist — there was only one way to find out and that was to ask them. So rather than enter the temple, he jumped up onto the stepped structure and walked over it, climbing a few steps to make his journey as straight a line as possible — and therefore as quick as possible.

It was warm enough to dry his boots, but humid enough to keep them damp. Sadly the moisture in the air won out, and so he squelched his was to his rendezvous — hardly an auspicious welcome to whoever he would meet.

[member="Jamie Pyne"]
 

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