Private Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

The treasury sat still, quiet.

Immense wealth was in this room, valuable relics from across the galaxy seemingly strewn about as if they were nothing to boast of. The belongings of a powerful regional syndicate, based on the world of Chokan, the leader of which proving to be quite the despicable individual, one who made his wealth by breaking the backs of anyone unlucky enough to be on a world he was near. Extortion? Theft? Blackmail? Murder? No crime was beyond his scope... he was truly a revolting figure with a seemingly bottomless desire for wealth.
And yet, all that he had amassed remained relatively untouched. In fact - dust began to form on some of the items, as if their presence here was merely arbitrary.
Soon though, the silence was broken.

After unlocking the various security doors, two of the syndicate members made their way down the steps into the treasure hoard, carrying in-tow something covered with a sheet.

"Boss said to just dump him anywhere he'd fit." One of the grunts said. "Why's he need some frozen corpse anyhow? Doesn't he have enough junk down here already?"

The two walked to the back of the room, propping the heavy slab up on the wall. The first offered an explanation:
"Boss got him at an auction or something, supposedly, what? Twelve thousand years old?"
A throaty laugh came from the second grunt.
"Yeah right! I can't believe the Boss'd actually fall for that!"
The first interjected.
"Look, I think it's a waste of money too. But the dating checks out, he's a fossil alright."
The second's eyes widened.
"So what happens if he gets out? I'd be pretty upset if I'd been stuck in a block for that long too."
The first waved his hand dismissively.
"Nothing to worry about, he's probably been dead for a long time anyway. The Hutts aren't exactly known for being careful when it comes to stuff like this."
The second man was once again surprised.
"The Hutts!? What was he doing back in the day?"
The first shrugged.
"I dunno, the Boss tried to explain it to me - in that real condescending way he does, y'know? Something something crusades, something something cult. Don't know, don't care. I'm just paid to put his body somewhere and not ask questions."
The two men continued their discussion as they left the treasury.

The silence returned. Though, it wouldn't last for long.

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

The silence lingered for several more heartbeats after the heavy vault door sealed itself behind the departing guards.

Only then did another presence emerge.

Ra'a'mah stepped quietly from the shadow of a supporting pillar beyond the treasury entrance, her movements measured enough that even the settling dust seemed louder than her footsteps. She had followed the strange pull for nearly an hour through corridors she had no business walking, bypassing guards not through deception but through timing, patience, and a lifetime spent moving where people rarely thought to look. Whatever had drawn her into the syndicate's headquarters had grown steadily stronger until it had led unerringly to this vault.

She remained still for a moment, allowing her senses to settle. The room was impressive, though not in the way its owner likely intended. Wealth had been piled together without appreciation, priceless artifacts reduced to little more than trophies measuring another being's vanity. Ancient sculptures sat beside jeweled weapons, ceremonial armor beside forgotten holocrons, all gathered because someone believed possessing history was the same as understanding it.

Her attention drifted across the vault until it settled upon the slab the two men had carried inside. There it was: not the treasures or the credits, but the body itself, the true source of the quiet, insistent call that had drawn her here.

Before approaching, she allowed her eyes to sweep the chamber one final time. Cameras. Motion sensors. Pressure plates concealed beneath sections of polished stone. She took her time identifying each layer of security, committing their locations to memory before choosing a route that threaded carefully between them. Where a beam crossed her intended path, she reached out with the Force, not to disable it permanently, but to hold its emitter a fraction of a degree out of alignment for the brief instant she passed through, allowing it to settle naturally back into place behind her. Nothing tripped. Nothing recorded an anomaly. Nothing announced that another visitor had entered the room.

Only then did she stop before the upright slab.

The cloth concealed almost everything beneath it, but the sensation that had guided her here now felt unmistakable, old beyond easy comprehension, quiet... yet persistent.

Slowly, almost reverently, Ra'a'mah reached out and rested her fingertips against the edge of the covering.

"So," she murmured into the stillness of the treasury, her fingers tightening gently on the fabric, "what was important enough... to wait twelve thousand years?"

Garrion Der Rædwulf

 

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

As the cover was removed - what was beneath had been revealed.

A solid block of carbonite, encasing within that of a man whom had positioned himself into a salute, holding a book with his left hand.
The slab itself was visibly aged, the outside casing's technology clearly long before the current casings used.
Still, whoever was within, the force had compelled Ra'a'mah to investigate.

Once the button was pressed to begin the thawing process, the man remained still for a moment before springing to life with a gasp for air.
Immediately a coughing fit began. Not long after, he recovered.
The old man reached his right arm out defensively, "Who are you? Where am I!?" Were his immediate questions.
Having no means to actually see his environment (given the Carbonite induced blindness), and obviously rather panicked, it was no surprise when he drew the blaster he'd also been frozen with.
"You slugs won't freeze me again!" He barked out, pulling down on the trigger - only for it to make a meaningless click. It'd been frozen exactly as it'd been left... empty, down to the last power cell. The memories coming back to him, he recalled it - the battle, the retreat, his capture. It was all a blur.

He slowly made his way along the wall, trying to keep himself spatially aware, having flipped the blaster pistol in his hand for it to act as a blunt weapon.
He swung the weapon at the air defensively, knocking over something valuable directly into one of the sensors, causing the alarm to go off.

Immediately this both further frightened the old man, and made him once more question where he could possibly be.
"What on- is this a vault? Why did you lock me in a vault!?"

It wouldn't be long until the guards made their way down here. Unfortunately, she was stuck with a confused blind man with an empty gun.

Fortunately, though, she had the force.
Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

The moment the carbonite released its prisoner, Ra'a'mah knew she had misjudged the situation.

She had expected confusion. Disorientation. Perhaps even panic.

She had not expected movement that fast.

Her hand had already begun to reach toward him, intending to steady him before carbonite sickness and blindness sent him stumbling into something unfortunate. Instead, the old man had slipped beyond her reach, years of instinct overriding reason as he backed away with an empty blaster held defensively between himself and a world he could no longer see.

"I'm not your enemy," she said evenly, keeping her voice calm despite the growing tension. "Stand still. You're suffering from carbonite blindness."

Then the alarm sounded.

The sharp wail echoed through the treasury, and Ra'a'mah closed her eyes for the briefest moment before a quiet, thoroughly unamused growl escaped her.

"So much for leaving quietly."

Her attention shifted immediately toward the vault entrance. It would not take long for armed guards to reach them. She had no intention of fighting her way through an entire syndicate headquarters if she could avoid it, but neither was she about to abandon the frightened man who had somehow waited twelve millennia only to awaken inside a crime lord's treasury.

The Force gathered around her with practiced precision.

She did not reach for a weapon.

Instead, she reached for the environment itself, preparing to slow the inevitable arrival of whoever answered the alarm while keeping herself positioned between the blind stranger and the vault entrance.

"You've been asleep for a very long time," she said, her voice remaining remarkably steady amid the blaring siren. "I know none of this makes sense, but if you can trust me for the next few minutes..."

She glanced toward the sealed door as hurried footsteps began echoing faintly beyond it.

"...I'll explain everything after we survive them."

Garrion Der Rædwulf

 

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

"Survive who? Where are we?" The General demanded, clearly still frightened.
However, as he heard the thudding of boots in the distance, he grunted. He didn't exactly like his situation, but complaining and remaining disoriented wasn't helping. He'd commanded under worse conditions and held his composure, why should that change now? With a soft inhale, he composed himself.
"Alright... whoever you are, just get us out here."

The General stubbornly searched the wall, still annoyed by his lack of sight.
"I'm guessing this is some kind of... what, vault? Treasure chamber? Belonging to some sort of syndicate?"
He formed this theory from his memories, which were gradually coming back to him - combined with the fact there was a trippable alarm.
"Surely these greedy low-lives have some sort of secret escape hatch? Some kind of corridor? We need a way out, there's only two of us and I'm blind. Hardly sporting chances."

As he continued feeling surfaces to no avail, nearly tripping over some of the valuables.
"How'd you even manage to make it in here? Presumably security is tight. Can we go back out the way you came in?"
Then, the floor began to shake, valuables clattering to the floor of the room as something was arriving. Thrusters could be heard in the distance.
"That ship one of yours?" He asked, voice hopeful.

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

"Okay. Stop moving."

Ra'a'mah crossed the distance between them quickly but without rushing, her voice remaining level despite the alarms echoing through the vault. She reached his side before gently taking hold of his wrist.

"Here."

Carefully, she guided his hand to rest against her upper arm.

"I'm Ra'a'mah Numare."

There was no mention of titles or accomplishments. Those could wait until they were somewhere considerably safer.

"We're on Chokan." She left it at that, resisting the temptation to answer questions that could not possibly help their immediate situation. "I have no idea what led to you being frozen, and right now it isn't important. You can tell me your story after we've left this place."

The tremor beneath their feet briefly drew her attention to the vault entrance before she continued.

"I entered after the men who brought you here left. Quietly." A faint smile touched the corner of her mouth. "I'd like to leave the same way."

She reached into the Force, allowing it to settle over herself like a familiar cloak. Her outline softened, then faded completely from sight. The effect spread naturally to him through the point of contact between them, concealing him as well so long as he remained at her side.

"Don't let go," she said quietly. "As long as you're touching me, you'll remain hidden."

Her free hand settled near one of the purple shotos concealed beneath her sleeve as she turned toward the vault entrance, listening to the approaching boots and whatever vessel had just arrived overhead.

"Now," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "let's find out whether we're leaving by the route I came in... or by one your old instincts uncover along the way."

Garrion Der Rædwulf

 

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

It wasn't long before the syndicate's enforcers flooded the room.

They searched over the room rather quickly, yet found nothing.
"Maybe it was just a false alarm? Some of this stuff is piled up so poorly something was bound to fall eventually."
Another shrugged.
"Eh, most likely. Let's check the camera footage first just to make sure. Oh and uh - make sure they didn't use the evac tunnel."
The first nodded, approaching the wall.
They removed a painting, propping up up against the wall as they input a code sequence on a small keypad, allowing the wall to open up and reveal a corridor.

Suddenly, one of the men spoke up, "Hey! Found something! We've got an empty Carbonite block, and no body to be found!"
This surprised one of the guards, seemingly the Captain.
"What? That can't be right, the occupant's been dead for who knows how long! I'm calling this in, everyone spread out. I want this place on lockdown."

The men from earlier nodded, the two making their way down the passageway, as the rest of the men present in the treasury began to make their way back out - scattering throughout the rest of the stronghold, and especially the landing bay.

"So, what's with that ship that just came in? Convenient timing, ain't it?" Another posed the question, turning to one of his associates.
The other man furrowed a brow, before answering.
"Oh that? Just another shipment. I don't like the timing though. We ought to send a squad topside to check it out."

Eventually, silence returned to the chamber once again, as the security team slowly withdrew until one couldn't tell they'd just been present.
With that, Garrion moved, though still remained within arms reach.

"We need to be quick, it won't be long until they re-activate the sensors. It appears we have multiple avenues of escape. What's your plan?"
His tone was more calculated, seemingly doing his best to piece together potential outcomes with what little information he had available. Though, he also seemed to trust her judgement. After all - if she was capable of breaking in, she was capable of making it out.

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah remained perfectly still until the last set of footsteps faded into the distance. Only when silence reclaimed the vault did she allow herself a slow breath, her attention lingering on the concealed passage now standing open behind the displaced painting.

She didn't move toward it. Not yet.

Instead, she turned her attention to Garrion. "Your eyes?" she asked quietly. "Has your vision begun to return?"

The question came before any discussion of escape routes, weapons, or strategy. A blind man changed every calculation. One whose sight was returning changed them again.

Her gaze swept once more across the treasury, committing every detail to memory. The hidden corridor offered one possibility, though she doubted it would remain unnoticed for long once the guards confirmed it had been used. The route she had entered by was still an option, but with the stronghold moving into lockdown, every corridor they retraced increased the chance of encountering patrols. Then there was the newly arrived shipment. Convenient timing rarely happened by accident, and if the syndicate intended to inspect it, that distraction could become an opportunity.

She rested one hand lightly against the hilt concealed beneath her sleeve, her thoughts already arranging possibilities into contingencies rather than choosing one prematurely.

"Once I know what you're capable of seeing," she said, meeting his clouded gaze, "I'll decide which path gives us the greatest advantage. Until then, we stay ahead of them by not rushing into the first escape they expect us to take."

Garrion Der Rædwulf

 

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

"Oh no, my vision has most certainly returned - it's just that I can only see in one color." He replied with obvious sarcasm.

His frustration at his impairment was still evident, though he'd relaxed. He too was still brainstorming, do
"Wise of us to not leave the way they'd expect... Perhaps the ventilation is an option? Predictable, but it reduces our chances of encountering patrols. I'd imagine security is on high alert now. Alternatively, we could commandeer a vessel, unless you brought your own means of transportation."

After another brief pause, he began attempting to walk on his own.
"Come on, we'd best get move-"
It didn't take long for his legs to give out on him as he began falling, though managed to grab back onto Ra'a'mah, stabilizing himself.
Not only was he blind, he could hardly walk.
The tiredness and dehydration hit him like a truck, unfortunately he wasn't going to be of much help despite his efforts.

A groan escaped him.
"Well, I suppose this'll only make it more satisfying once we overcome the challenge."
Standing up fully, he murmured.
"It'll be quite interesting to find out more about this planet once I regain my faculties... can't say I'd ever heard of it until now, and I never intend to come back after this miserable experience."

Ra'a'mah

 

[Ra'a'mah]

Ra'a'mah couldn't help the faint smile that touched her lips at the dry sarcasm. It was a good sign. Frustrated people rarely joked unless they believed they still had a chance.

"You'll have to forgive me," she replied quietly. "Most people aren't nearly so conversational immediately after spending twelve thousand years in carbonite."

She remained beside him as he tried to stand on his own, making no move to stop him. There was dignity in allowing someone to discover their own limits. When his legs finally betrayed him, and he caught himself against her once more, she simply steadied him without comment, her grip firm enough to support him but never so tight that it suggested pity.

"You've been through quite an ordeal," she said. "Your body is remembering how to function again. Don't mistake that for weakness."

Her attention drifted toward the concealed passage before returning to him.

"I can get us out of here in a couple of ways." Her tone remained calm, measured, already weighing each possibility. "Personally, I think it would be easier to simply walk out."

She paused just long enough to be certain she had his attention.

"That plan requires only two things from you. Maintain contact with me at all times, and remain silent until I tell you that you can speak." She offered no explanation beyond that. There would be time for questions once they were no longer surrounded by armed criminals.

A small smile returned as she adjusted his hand more securely around her arm.

"Can you manage those two things, General?"

Garrion Der Rædwulf

 

[Garrion Der Rædwulf]

It hit him immediately: Twelve thousand years. Had he really spent that long frozen? It was... hard to believe.
Her words were drowned out by his thoughts, running wild with questions.

What was the state of the galaxy? Was his Church still around? Had the Pius Dea managed to resurface? The last thing he remembered was... defeat. Then imprisonment.
If this were true, he had... nothing.

But there was no time to dwell on that. They had to make it out of here.
He once more listened, and when prompted with a question, his response was surprisingly composed.

"Yes."

It was simple, though something in his tone suggested he needed it to be. The only thing he had to cling to in this moment was that his Goddess had orchestrated this woman's arrival, that she had been sent to save him.
He'd follow, he'd stay silent, and he'd think.

Taking a moment to ensure he'd remain upright, the pair would take their first step together, then another, and another, making their way out of the vault entrance inch by inch.

Failing to resist the urge to at least say something, he'd state the obvious. In a hush whisper, he spoke the following:

"Judging by the fact this is working, I'm led to believe you're not insane. You must be a Jedi."

Of course, he was working off of incredibly outdated information, but regardless, it wasn't an entirely invalid observation.
He didn't expect a response, after all, they were supposed to remain silent.
The general continued walking, slowly regaining more mobility - first in his toes, which were now able to properly support him.

It would take some time for him to regain his full abilities, though, it was a start.

The pair passed patrols and cameras. Garrion still had no idea where this force user was leading him, but, he had faith in her capabilities.

Ra'a'mah