Private Uncanny Similarities

[Tempest Yore]

TAG: Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi ​

Suspect

After selling her yacht to donate the funds to charity to assist refugee Chiss, Tempest started to feel really stupid about what she did. She could do alot more for everyone by moving stocks around. Heck, even her ship was put to work for her. She had years of her life memories instilled in it, likewise she made herself a few fond memories to others. She had made a name for herself. Looking back on her blunder just made her feel useless and she became unhappy trying on the limited hats worn by the typical Jedi in the galaxy. She was quickly bored and felt insignificant. The Jedi are protectors, but should she hate herself for wanting to do something else instead of sit around and wait for a calamity that she must then attempt to correct? Calamity would be found everywhere if she has the right informants. She was born into her gifts, to parents who knew who they were. She wasn't found roaming about and saved by a Jedi Master, owing the organization her life. Since when did having an ability to do a skill entitle those superior in performing the same skills to appoint themselves as leader over what she does with her life? She always made people happy in her own way, and it was never terrible that she too was happy doing it.

She would prove her capability. She did just what she set out to do, make money with stocks. It isn't anything new. She would probably never have enough to buy back her ship; she still owed a third on it when she sold it. She heard so many whispers about herself being here or there since she it's sale. She hadn't thought of the negative implications regarding selling her ship could cause for her. Her ship frequented quite a number of shady places. Word got around alot faster where she might be and what she might be doing, than the word that she actually had sold her ship. People were talking, and she didn't like it one bit.

There are a few things she never told its current occupant. One, the computer system administrator access could never be completely overridden. Two, she still has an access key to a small hidden port tucked under the landing gear. Three, she can certainly track her own ship. And finally, for what she's heard, the whole ordeal sounds suspiciously like the new owner is intentionally impersonating her so that she takes the fall for whatever he or she is up to.

An added plus in her favor, is the droid she threw into the deal upon sale has a base program that is loyal to her as well, and she is eager to gain access to her ship and speak with it about what has been going on.

Tempest is coming, and she plans to take back her original property for payment of the damages done to her reputation.



She anticipated the fact that people might be looking for her. In just a few short months this imposter has run up charges all over the Northern galactic quadrants. It was not difficult for authorities to accept that the ship that has long been a roaming nightclub could be a cover for some heavy criminal activity.

Her undercover skills however, have been seriously unnecessary to date, therefore she may not be so good at hiding out in plain view as she hopes she'd be.

Just as she suspected, her ship is parked on the tarmac where the whole surrounding city is deeply engaged in a lively festival. She sat in a nearby rooftop bar, running her finger around the rim of her glass in contemplation. The music from the streets bellow echoed through speakers placed all over the area. She liked the song playing. It is one that spoke to the soul, encouraging confidence in one's superhuman powers, like it could be her personal theme song for her mission. Her eyes narrowed in on the ship she would take back tonight.

Tempest spun her family signet ring around straight before lifting the lowball glass to her lips and taking a drink.
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[Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi]

“Heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with.”

Lightsaber / Winter Ring of the Snow Moon

Tags: Tempest Yore


Silently I sat back, engulfed in the shadows, watching as the passers-by move across the streets under the lights, fancying themselves far above their morality. The rich, in their most water-downed views sought themselves above the pauper. They took for granted the majority of necessities of life, cause the credits that swelled their bank accounts like a bloated, pregnant beast kept them far above the tragedies of real living. Once, I was a Jedi, sworn to protect the galaxy masses; but like the governments the Jedi supported grew corrupt. I, in great conscience, could no longer abide such actions. Or the rich! My time in the Order was riddled with ridicule, cause unlike those younglings that constructed my class, I was an orphan, bastard by gender. I chose to walk away from the Jedi Order, to serve a purpose other than fighting good versus evil, light against dark, right over wrong. There was more than fighting evil in the galaxy as a Force wielder.

That was one lifestyle. Prior to my indoctrination into the Jedi, I lived off the streets; conducting rituals of survival. My parents, later I learned after their passing, where nothing more than two entities trying to raise an unknown against a background of further unknowns. They were not even my biological parents, hence the term bastard filtered around the other little thieves on the streets. Bastard was not entirely an exact description, but it was the title that followed me everywhere. Thier deaths hit me hard, why...that was a great question. They loved me; in their own way I suppose. I can't fault them for trying, I can only fault them for not trying.
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Then came the calling. If you told me the Force was real, I would have spit in one eye, and blackened the other. But the Force was real, and it flowed through me like a strong current. I found myself in the Order of the Lotus Moon, wielding a glow stick and utilizing the Force. They were my family, but like my street parents; they were just a filler. But I loved them, because they were the closest thing I had to a family; but in my heart, I knew my flesh and blood was out there somewhere; I only hoped if they possessed the Force like myself, they were not of the Dark Side beliefs. Because per my Oath of the Lotus Moon, death was their only judgement.


And so, my life brought me here, to a festival of life. I hated parties, not because I despised company, but because my morality dictated, I act accordingly on behalf of those with lesser fortune. Laughing and jokes were abounded, the masses enticed with numerous acts of debauchery. I found the whole scenario humorous. But my reason for being here held a purpose. I'm a Knight Warden of the Eternal Empire, and unbeknownst to the galaxy and other planetary governments; we held a secretive operation. And such operation brought me here, to this planet. My eyes watched the collection of humans, semi-humans, and aliens engage in what they would call fun. I felt my target instead. Then, caught unawares, I felt a tugging on my cloak. Looking down, I saw a dirt covered face of a little girl. Her hands were tiny, her fingernails caked with filth, her blonde hair matted and riddled with debris. But her smile and blue eyes melted my heart. She didn't need to speak, her beautiful little face said it all. Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew the only credits I possessed and happily gave them over to the little one. Food may come in sparce moments for her, but for me; I had an entire Empire to fill my stomach.

 

[Tempest Yore]

TAG: Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi ​

Her eyes caught the sight of a youngling as she made her way around the crowd to Tempest's otherwise empty table. She must have looked overeager to remain in disguise, for the child took one look at Tempest and halted in her steps. Her natural disposition to prove herself nothing to fear, she tipped down the edge of her rose colored glasses momentarily before hurriedly pressing them back up to shield her eyes from the crowd. She then smiled and reached into her pocket, withdrawing a little pouch tied with a cord. She reached for the child's cloak and tucked the pouch into her inner pocket for her. "You go straight home now, and don't stop or speak to anyone along the way," she instructed, knowing the babe might get robbed blind if she hung around this crowd where someone might be observant of her good fortune.



Tempest rode the financial coattails of her lifelong predicament, an inheritance arranged by guilty adoptive parents. Her birth mother died while she was very young, leading Fate to then pass her into her father's care for raising. Within the year her father was slain and she taken into the home of the very man guilty of the horrible deed. This fact she had not even remembered having been witness to until a few years ago. For all her life, Tempest believed her adoptive father and mother to be good friends of her Late biological father, instead they had stolen his identification and merited off everything he had possessed, even if it wasn't much of anything to have killed him for. For her relationship, respect and duty shown them, the reality of their guilt hit home, they in turn legally adopted her and set her up to receive an inheritance from them. Her adoptive father was a swindler, whereas Tempest learned to earn her money by legal means, not one cent did she keep of his after she turned her first profit from it. Unable to function after one of his deals went badly, her adoptive mother still lives today and resides in an institution, which Tempest pays for.

The heirloom sigil ring which she absent-mindedly turned upon her finger had belonged to her birth mother. Tempest had ever worn it around her neck, until just recently as it finally fit her finger. When her mother had died, her siblings had been sent to numerous family households to be raised. There was an incident with one who never made it to his destination, some calamity had befallen him en route. Tempest was far too young to have any memories of anyone other than the tending rendered by her mother. She had no idea about anyone else living today, but knew that to have a family crest meant something important, somewhere. Was she from a widely practiced culture? From Coruscant where she preferred to call home? Or from some family of nomads? She may never know. She had seen such crests on privately owned vessels here and there, or on letterheads, jewelry, even tattooed on some. None of them had much in common per their roots, but that those who donned such took pride in their unity with the symbolism shared with their kindred.

Maybe she has hope that someday, someone will notice it, and can tell her about her own history. She wondered if her old Master Syn could understand such a desire. His family is the Jedi, where Tempest had friendships here and there, but none she truly felt bonded to like that.

The little girl has someone to go home to. Tempest followed her with her eyes as the little one made her way across the bridges that linked the rooftop bars together.

Her ship sat in darkness, engines off and lights out, without its inhabitant. She watched the tarmac activity, eagerly awaiting a moment to present itself when the people should scatter, and nobody shall notice when she might sneak up to it and board.

She gazed around the many faces of the party. Not smiling, for once she didn't appear to belong!
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[Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi]

“Heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with.”
Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi, Knight Warden

Lightsaber / Winter Ring of the Snow Moon

Tempest Yore



I bid the young child farewell and moved along myself. There was much activity, that it was nearly disrupting my focus. My target was close by, another Force user like myself, but his potential was untapped. He hated the Force, almost as much as some of my fellow Wardens; thus, he contracted himself out to the Empire to exchange information for credits. I never dealt with this man before, but I was warned ahead of time that he was twitchy and nervous; always speaking of conspiracy theories that bordered insanity. I believe he chose this location due in part he didn't know me, so naturally he wouldn't trust me except I was a Warden. In his defense, we Wardens have conducted some rather nefarious actions, some I'm not proud to be a part of personally; so, in theory, he was right to befriend caution.

I spotted my target, Drixol Ful, standing by a kiosk that was selling exotic drinks. Mr. Ful was rather tall, possibly standing well over six and a half feet. His build was average, and his face was pocketed and covered with a scraggly, unkempt brown beard. His whole attire yelled pauper or street urchin, which baffled me why he would choose such a designation that would draw attention to us. Less, this was just another defense against any attempts he thought I would try on his life as a 'government agent'. His head swiveled about quickly, searching the mass of bodies till his eyes locked on mine. It would have been far easier to send him telepathic message, but stated earlier, his ability to use the Force was not present. I returned his gaze with a slight nod, proceeding to part through the crowd, which proved impossible with a mass of bodies standing between us, so I was forced to take an alternative route.

Backtracking, I entered an off section of the area where several tables were hosting guests. Most of patrons were seated, some standing in engaged conversations. As I attempted to slip by, a drunk lady, bellowing with annoying laughter, stumbled back bumping into me. That little bump was just enough to push me off balance a bit, plus I was not suspecting the act, and in turn bumped into a table where a lone, a beautiful young lady, was seated. The drunk lady, returned to her friends without even a half-hearted apology, but I didn't care. Two things happened in that brief moment.

The first was the seated lady. I didn't know her, or ever had the opportunity to meet her but there was something tugging in my mind. It was a sensation of a connection. This woman possessed the Force, or at least I thought I felt a shimmer of it. I've spent many hours studying the nature of the Force and all its applications, knowing what a Force Dyad was. Dyads were extremely rare, and most historians of the Jedi Order believed them to be nothing more than legends and myths, spite some written chronicles on the subject of Dyads. Mentally I shook this off, this was impossible, way beyond the realm of possibilities. This lady and myself, no history. And I to didn't accept Dyads.

The second, was the ring on her finger. I caught a fleeting glimpse of the signet during one revolution before she halted the spin. The signet looked familiar, though in honesty could not place where I once saw the image. Then it occurred to me I was being just as rude as the one that caused this unexpected meeting. "It appears my manners have elected to betray me," I began picking up her turned over glass which the remaining contents had spilled on to the table surface, "Forgive me two-fold, one for my clumsiness and two for spilling your drink. Please, allow me." I commandeered a napkin off her table and quickly wiped up the spilt liquid with one hand, gesturing for the nearby waitress with the other. "Please get this young lady another drink," addressing the waitress, adding a barely noticeable wave of my hand, "Free of charge." I normally don't abuse my Force gifts, but I gave what credits I had earlier to a younger girl, so both acts balanced one another.

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[Tempest Yore]

TAG: Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi ​

Something shifted in the room. Above all the people engaged in revelry, a subtle twinge of intuition fell within her awareness. 'Man! Someone spotted me?' Tempest thought. For a few seconds following nothing else spiked her senses, and she thought she had mistakenly read the room, but she has enough sense to know that would be where she would err, should she believe it; intuitive perception should never be ignored.

Soon someone seemed to be pushing through the crowd. Tempest pulled off her sunglasses before she forcefully pushed back from her table, mentally contemplating the distance of the drop from the rooftop to the street bellow, should she decide to hoist herself over the ledge. Her drink spilt and the table skid back towards her pinning her in her chair against the wall. Tactical error, lesson learned.

None of that mattered the moment a face suddenly presented before her's causing her to freeze in shock. His gaze in return to her appeared equally perplexing. Tempest quivered as her eyes momentarily locked with his.

Her heart leapt. 'Papa?' but then it wrenched equally as intense as reality set in, recognizing the gaze behind those eyes held little reciprocating regard for her. Her expression suddenly warped forlorn and she blinked away a sudden tug of impending tears.

'No!' her voice screamed inside her head. 'It doesn't just happen that someone has Father's face and he isn't somebody to me!' As this man expressed his intent to correct his error, she knew she could not let him get away!

She felt him impose a suggestion upon her waitress. She didn’t need another drink. "It's something. Yes?" she blurted with desperation in her voice. "I know you feel it too." She skid the table away in order to free herself enough to stand. "I'm Tempest…but I don't even remember my true given name." It began with a "C". She had been named Tempest by the kidnapper who later became her adoptive father, because she stood with a fist against him when he had approached her, after slaying her father. She is absolutely certain however, that Yore is the name of her ancestral lineage.
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[Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi]

“Heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with.”
Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi, Knight Warden

Lightsaber / Winter Ring of the Snow Moon

Tempest Yore




Caught unawares by the woman's unexpected movements, I jumped back slightly; bumping into the same person who was responsible for this meeting. Like the young woman's drink I was currently have replaced, the woman behind me lost her drink, the glass container smashing on the floor. The woman bellowed followed by some drunk, incoherent insults by her male companion. I ignored both, my attention fully embraced on the young woman before me.

Her previous words to me where slowly coming back into focus before the shifting of the table. Once more, I was caught unawares. I do not possess the best social skill sets when faced with chance happenings. It was easy to converse earlier cause I initiated the conversation, and I was trying to rectify a wrong. But now, my tongue was coil around itself like a serpent as I struggled looking for a reply.

"I do feel....something," I managed to say after standing there awkwardly in silence for a few moments. Then I remembered my query, shooting a glance in the direction and seeing him looking more nervous than ever. I found myself caught in two separate moments. I needed to conduct the business why I was here, but on the other hand I was intrigued by this woman.

I took a heavy sigh, knowing a reprimand would be forthcoming over my next course of actions I turned away from the contact, extended my hand to the young lady and replied, "Pleasure to meet to you, Tempest. I am Ro-Tahn. Forgive me again, but I think the Force has brought us together for a reason."

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[Tempest Yore]

TAG: Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi ​

Tempest tensed a little when she sensed Ro-Tahn held a desire to leave her, but chose to remain in front of her, even if only momentarily. It would be the strangest feeling she ever experienced, standing there and knowing exactly what tugged at her heart and yet not fully believing what presented itself to her. 'How could this be after so long?' She stood for a moment just looking him over. "You were always so far away," she finally said aloud. She could not find him before because he was so far from her home planet. Her eyes expressed the weight of her emotion.

She ignored everything that was said, and everyone else around them who became disgruntled by Ro-Tahn's sudden appearance. He soon extended his hand in greeting causing Tempest to quickly grab at a chain around her neck to remove her cherished holo-locket. She quickly place it into his awaiting palm, her fingers trembling as she did so. She slipped her hand over his own and gripped his firmly, unaware she held her breath as she did so, before withdrawing, leaving the locket behind in his grasp.

The locket mechanism opened and the hologram of her Father, a Jedi Master activated, revealing his face to be a likeness of Ro-Tahn. Seeing their faces side by side, as the image from her locket rotated slowly, Tempest found herself needing to remember to breathe!

"Ro-Tahn," she repeated his name like it were holy. She wondered, 'do I know the name?' She isn't certain, but she had been very young when her siblings were split up.
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[Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi]

“Heroes are made by the paths they choose, not the powers they are graced with.”
Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi, Knight Warden

Lightsaber / Winter Ring of the Snow Moon

Tempest Yore



Looking at the face staring back at me inside the locket stole my breath. For the next fleeting seconds, I stood stunned and confused. I couldn't find the words to express my thoughts; then images began to flood my mind in flashing glimpses. I knew these were Force echoes, or what some called psychometry. I never had this ability until touching an artifact inside an old, ancient temple. The whole temple was riddled with dark side energy. The first time I experienced an echo, my heart began to beat faster; I believed the dark side had tainted me. But to my relief, it had not. However, I couldn't control the ability, or read the images presented in white-like flashes. The overwhelming visions forced me take a seat at Tempest's table. I needed to collect my thoughts and get them under control.

I looked up at Tempest when I heard my name on her lips, then again, I looked upon the picture. My mind was coming back from the initial unraveling, piecing together the presentation from Tempest. There was quite a bit of similarities between my face and the face in the locket. Was this my Father? I never knew my parents, or even saw images of them. My eyes remained locked on the image as I said, "Tempest...this man? Who he is?"

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[Tempest Yore]

TAG: Ro-Tahn Mashayekhi ​

"I believe I was born on Panatha, but I do not know whether or not our name was native to there. I never went back to find out." She added with regret. "I just assumed I wouldn't have approved of many facts about what I might uncover. I don't remember much aside from my mother falling ill when I was very young. I remember there were older siblings around. I don't remember the presence of our father. I assume it proper that we were split up by the local magistrate and shuffled into foster care." She did not remember the history of such events which unfolded. But her recollection manifested years ago, during a test in the Force orchestrated by Master Syn. "I don't remember anything about my father until the day he returned to search for his children." Tempest pointed to the hologram image, moving in the locket projection. "Somehow he intercepted me. He was avidly searching for all his children, with myself in tow. He was killed while he was following leads. The man that did it, ended up feeling guilty and raised me. He wiped all the ships logs when he took it for himself. That was devastating to me. Our father was murdered for nothing more than his personal property…right in front of me." Tempest had managed to claim her mother's possessions as she aged. Her adoptive father was a gambler and an investor. He spent his lifetime trying to make up for what he did to her, by growing his investments to secure her future.

"When I saw your face…I felt gifted with a second glimpse at him. Does any of this fit with your history as you remember it?" she asked.

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