First Reply The Stars Above Tython

[Isobel Serraris]

THE STARS ABOVE TYTHON​

LOCATION — Tython, Forests
TAGS — OPEN
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost and Vesper et Aurora.

The claws of the Sith bore gaping wounds into the surface of a once peaceful planet--of the place that had shaped the Jedi of old and new alike. The region that should emanate peace and purity, but lay suppressed and ruined by iron fists. It was a tragedy, a lost cause mayhaps, and yet it sparked a curiosity within the lonesome Jedi--a desire to know whether it was truly as doomed as the tales proclaim it to be.

The echoes of olden practices and scriptures must lay buried beneath its surface, in old ruins, in secret alcoves. . . The planet could grant her the wisdom she may need to further her journey into becoming a full-fledged Jedi, or to stray her from that fairytale-like delusion. The fates were undecided, and therefore the pursuit remained a long and tumultuous search.

Between tall trees of Tython, an armoured figure walked, the chiming of her chainmail a constant among the few sounds of the fauna. Her spacecraft was not far from her current coordinates, within reach should any opposition choose to show themselves. . . Although, none had appeared when she slipped into the planet's atmosphere, making her believe her odds may turn out to be in her favour. Or was it an elaborate trap she had unknowingly sprung already?

Still, Isobel wandered, and wandered, seeking for anything beyond tree stumps and trees themselves. Ashla aided her little on her conquest, as her melodies were more akin to a cacophony--the Force was chaotic on this planet, no doubt a byproduct of the constant turmoil between Sith and Jedi on its surface. It begged the question whether Tython would ever belong to the Jedi again. . . Or whether it was destined to belong to the hands of Sith and Imperials alike.

Her thoughts were halted by a sudden snap of a branch not far from her, and her hand crept toward her shoto-lightsaber, unlocking it from her belt; it was safer to feign being a Sith than to be doomed with combat. . .

Spoiler: OOC

I am down for most interactions, so long as they make sense! I reckon it'd make the most sense for a Sith to encounter her, but you can be creative! p.s. combat is not my forte, but I am willing to give it a shot

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[Kaiah Nihl]

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The breeze gently sighed through the branches of the trees, the moss felt soft beneath her feet. Life bloomed wildly and vividly, yet only a few metres away were skeletal burnt remains curled up in a small crater. This dichotomy would continue as she walked - life, death, life, death. But what she could see was nothing compared to what she could feel. Through the force, Tython felt like it balanced on a knife's edge. She could sense ancient roots and fresh blood. It both exhilarated her and made her sick to the stomach.

It had been a long time since she'd donned robes this dark. Since she'd dared to step foot within Sith territory. Circumstance, or perhaps irony, had dictated that Tython was now easier for her to access than when it was under Jedi control. This was all thanks to a stolen Sith ship, forged documents and her disguise as a Sith acolyte. It had been a long journey to Tython, literally and metaphorically.

She'd been here a few days already, getting the lay of the land. Even with her disguise, she'd kept her presence to a minimum, powering down the systems of the ship and carrying only what she needed. She was relying on an old paper map and her navigational skills to guide her to her destination. Unfortunately the former was worn and faded, and the latter was nearly non-existent. She'd spent too long wandering, lost, until she finally found a landmark and started heading in the correct direction. She figured she wasn't too far off now.

Her thoughts were as scattered as the light through trees, her emotions ebbed and surged unexpectedly. 'I have searched for so long, surely I-' The thought was interrupted by a loud SNAP, as a dry branch broke beneath her foot. The sound startled her more than it should have, and she let out a small chuckle. And yet, something twinged at the edge of her perception - more of a feeling than an observation.

A feeling that she was not alone.

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[Isobel Serraris]

THE STARS ABOVE TYTHON​

LOCATION — Tython, Forests
TAGS — Kaiah Nihl
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost and Vesper et Aurora.

The sheer variety of flowers that had blossomed within the garden of her life had been rather baffling, from the Ithorian rose of mystery. . . blossoming at the hands of an old acquaintance of sorts, Lysander von Ascania . To the rather poisonous plague of Tansy that bled from her encounter with Varin Mortifer on Korriban. Each encounter a depiction of the sheer unforeseeability of their outcome, for whatever threads of fate were to be woven by the Force lay before her as an abyss--a never-ending field shrouded in oblivion until Ashla's light may clear them.

Isobel's fingers twitched on the curved marbled hilt of her lightsaber, her nails making a tapping noise on its surface. Her mind battled itself over and over again, whether to advance or maintain her distance; for it could an animal or merely the peculiar nature of this planet, like a mirage. . . if they appeared on Tython at all. The justifications found no root to hold back the splinters of curiosity within her 'pure' heart, and thus her boots slowly trod the grass leading towards the noise.

Her thumb brushed over the activation stud of her blade, hesitation persisted within her mind--what if they were friendly and she was condemning them to a duel? What if it was naught but the skittering fauna that startled her? Her mind could not determine whether it was friend or foe that may yet await her beyond the trees. Yet in light of her own safety, her touch remained on the button, prepared to ignite it within a second should this threat manifest itself.

A darkly robed figure met her there, not a small mammal or. . . merely nature, but a tall silhouette reaching a head above hers~ and one who chuckled at the snap of the branch. . . Bel stiffened for what felt like moments, standing in the alcove, gazing toward this shrouded figure. Her mind rampaged with a thousand suggestions, should she strike--for their appearance was akin to the Sith--or must she stay her hand--appearances could deceive after all.

At last, the red blade revealed itself, crackling violently like a summer storm, it remained motionless by her side--not directed to an opening stance in Ataru or Soresu. "You! State your business, at once." There was a quiver in her voice, a reluctance, a hesitation almost. . .

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[Kaiah Nihl]

She whirled around to face the figure, sweeping her robes back, her hand hovering over own lightsaber. Her fingers glanced lightly off the metal, yet the blade remained holstered. With some difficulty, she forced her hand to relax as she examined the newcomer.

From the brush had emerged the presence she had felt - a young human woman. She was smaller than Kaiah by almost a foot yet she held her head high, her brown curls swaying gently in the breeze. She could faintly hear the hum of the woman’s ignited red lightsaber, kept to the side for now. The stranger's confident pose was undermined by her shaky voice as she spoke: “You! State your business, at once."

Kaiah kept quiet, letting the robes fall back over her saber as she paced around the newcomer. Something about this woman was strange, like a puzzle piece that fit but didn’t complete the picture. Her robes were armoured, though she couldn’t tell if the purpose was ceremonial or functional. The way she held her weapon, despite being at her side, and the way she’d placed her feet spoke of a familarity with a lightsaber. The body of a warrior, but her countenance suggested otherwise. The youthful face was soft, at times looking serene and unburdened - yet fierce and passionate from another angle. Her brown eyes didn’t have that hard edge, still had that glimmer of innocence that was so often missing from the gaze of the Sith.

Or perhaps this is what Kaiah wanted to see, hoping to find a kindred spirit while lost in the wilderness. For a Sith the woman appeared to be, if her robes and lightsaber were anything to judge by. Kaiah was struck by a deep sadness, seeing a young woman shackled to the cruel whims of the Sith.

She didn’t let her emotions reach her face, however. She stopped abruptly and finally addressed the stranger. “Peace, sister“ Kaiah said. Her voice, unused for so long, sounded foreign to her. It was deep and slightly scratchy. “We are servants of the same empire, you and I“. She reached into her robe and pulled out a stolen Sith medallion. It glimmered faintly in the sunlight. She didn’t know how common it was for Sith acolytes to carry such baubles, but figured it couldn’t hurt. “I am searching for ancient Jedi ruins beneath the surface” she continued, stowing the medallion. "One in particular, though I haven't had much luck so far". She glanced again at the other woman, cocking her head to the side. “What of your task, sister?”

| Isobel Serraris | ​

 

[Isobel Serraris]

THE STARS ABOVE TYTHON​

LOCATION — Tython, Forests
TAGS — Kaiah Nihl
PARAPHERNALIA — Armour of the Lost and Vesper et Aurora.

An artwork fragmented by the unpaint sections, the blank canvas showing beneath. . . her façades had never been a masterwork, there was naught that might make a servant of Ashla wish to lie--to deceive. Was one's safety truly worth the untruths one had to poison another psyche with? The Light was pure, untainted by the stain of corruption--be it at the hands of falsehoods, or jests that evaded the truth. So why must its servants resort to such treacherous tools to end up with the upper hand, or merely the feeling of victory. . .

Bel dropped a low sigh at the woman's lack of initial hostility, after all the varied encounters she had with friend and foe, there was no telling how one might place the first pawn in Shah-tezh. The grip on her lightsaber loosened imperceptibly, the curved lightsaber residing more comfortably in the palm of her (gloved) hand. Not even the fates or her visions may grant her insight on how the thread may be woven during the next few moments, but a faint glimpse in her heart echoed a serenity... a mutual peace of sorts.

Hostility was demanded from a Sith, and it was where the first evident crack broke off the porcelain armour shielding her first approach. "As you say. . . Sister," The word was unfamiliar on her tongue, defined by a bitter aftertaste--it did not belong proper in the Order she had briefly resided in. . . It was a false comfort, a word that felt more a warning than a warmth.

A step was taken into the direction of the stranger,

and another.

"Serving the same figurehead does not make us equals these days. . ." Were the first words leaving her lips, the tremor in her tongue dissipating with each vowel. "But you have given me no reason to declare you a foe." A mistake in the making, or a good call? Her instincts left her in a daze when the red shoto-blade retracted from the emitter.

Though the glimmer of the medallion nigh on made her regret her actions. . . They were truly a sith, and not an innocent passerby who only feigned it. Truly a Sith. The words echoed in her mind for quite some time as the sentences that trailed it blurred into the background of the canvas. A present matter, though the eye was drawn to the figure in the middle. A tall woman, half-veiled, presenting a Sith medallion as if it were of no importance.

With a soft clear of the throat, Isobel stiffened up slightly: "Well, Sister, I have come to seek and... acquire these Jedi baubles. My Lord requires them for his studies." A perfect little lie that tasted so sour, a smile would not reach her lips either. "It seems our paths converge, if we are fair about sharing the spoils, then... we might as well join up." With a tone that did not sound entirely too friendly, she offered a 'peace offering', walking down the path toward where the Force beat the loudest.

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