Private We Fight, Yes?

[Drane T'keen]

The blade is weightless, they say, but for Drane there was always a weight to a lightsaber’s blade. Definitely weight to its hilt, not heavy, as it filled his grip. Four fingers and a thumb curled around it as he stood beneath the sky of some world in a galaxy far, far away. Though, this planet was close to others, there in the Outer Rim, and shrouded in darkness, even if it wasn’t Korriban. Yet its name was not important at the moment.

It was a desert but whether it was Tatooine or Arvala-7, well, maybe someone else could tell. For Drane T’keen, he simply stood still under the sunlit welkin bereft of any clouds. It was hot, needless to say, with a golden glow amid a blue hue that beat its beams upon any soul who dared to stand beneath.
However, this warrior was born in sunlight, the sun was in his blood, for he was Thyrsian, a warrior of the red sun. The Black Swordsman, some called him, only his blade was crimson, yet his hilt was black. It filled his right hand as he stood, not on sand, but on stone, a bead of sweat on his countenance as a breeze did blow.

It tickled his skin, arms bare, wearing a white tanktop and tan pants and boots. He didn’t move, just stood still staring up at the sky, but not squinting at the sun. His eyes were closed, actually, but he could see beyond his eyelids, picturing that blue illusion which hid the expanse, black as midnight.
A warrior, a swordsman, a Sith Knight, he came here alone but he was not lonely. Not so alone anymore. He thought as he cradled his sword, blade sheathed. Above subterranean ruins, on a surface of solid rock, he stood beside the entrance as he sensed someone coming, whether from it or the horizon. Friend or foe? Drane breathed easily. We shall see.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

The sun beat down relentlessly as Braze padded along the parched landscape, eyes scanning for the entrance to ancient ruins he had read about in an old holocron. The thrill of delving into the archives of ancient texts had inspired this escapade, and he was determined to uncover something that could aid his current pursuits.

He had left Aether of the Iron Order back at the ship, the Iron Knight's cautious warnings about digging up old secrets still echoing in his mind. Aether had warned him, "Uncovering ancient knowledge can bring unforeseen consequences."

With a cheeky grin, Braze had replied, "There is no ignorance, only knowledge."

Dressed for the desert, Braze wore a lightweight, moisture-wicking tunic and trousers, with a black cloak draped over his shoulders, providing additional protection from the scorching heat and swirling sands. His head was covered with a wide-brimmed hat and a scarf shielding his face from the sun's rays. Tinted goggles protected his eyes from the harsh glare. Sturdy boots, designed for rugged terrain, completed his ensemble. His belt, equipped with essential tools and a canteen, added a practical touch to his otherwise minimalistic outfit.

Now, alone in the vast, arid expanse, Braze felt a twinge of excitement and trepidation. He could feel something—someone—nearby, even before he saw them. His pace slowed, and his senses heightened as he neared his destination, alert and ready for whatever lay ahead.

 

[Drane T'keen]

The sun beat down on the Thyrsian’s skin, so exposed as it was, but he loved it. Every shimmer and sliver that inched along his arms, down his neck, forehead, with sweat, was brilliant. Granted, as a Sith, he could control his body temperature via the Force, but this was also natural for him.

Fortunately neither the light nor the heat was to the extent of threatening anybody with dehydration or exhaustion on its own in a moment. However, this Thyrsian Sith had not entered this ruin bereft of caution for the environment. Beside him, by his boots, was a backpack with an assortment of items fit for such conditions.

For now, though, Drane simply waited, finally spying a figure in the distance, a silhouette of someone on the horizon. Fine then. He thought, ever ready, every patient. Let them come to me. Ally. Adversary. It didn’t matter much in the end. One or the other would offer entertainment.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

Braze padded up to the rocky outcrop, the crunch of gravel underfoot barely audible against the sweeping desert winds. He paused, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the figure across from him. The morning sun cast long shadows, painting the landscape in stark contrasts.

"Good morning, stranger," Braze called out, his voice carrying a note of caution. He took a moment to observe the other from head to toe, noting the intricate details of their attire and stance. "It's not common to see travelers out this far... What brings you this way?"

He shifted his weight slightly, ready for whatever response might come, his senses attuned to the environment and the stranger's next move.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Three words. Five syllables. They broke the silence, though there was yet a quiet wind in this environment, blowing against hair and skin as the Thyrsian licked his lips. He had a bottle of water in his backpack, sunglasses, a hat, a cloak and other pieces of equipment but didn’t feel the need to open it just yet.

The figure who came toward him, however, was definitely already garbed in the attire fit for the heat and the light, whether he was armed or armored in addition. Seemed to be an average being, just another visitor to these ruins, though if he was not masking his Force signature then it would be registered. As for the Thyrsian, his own presence in the Force was not hidden.

Drane had been greeted, and it would only be rude to not return those words with his own so he spoke the next moment. “Greetings,” he said simply at first, offering a nod in acknowledgment. His gaze was trained skyward. “What brings me this way?” He repeated rhetorically.

Sighing into the breeze, he suddenly wondered what the best answer was; like someone who had come to some place for more reason than one as much as none. Cryptic, after a fashion, but it made sense in his head. “Peace and quiet.” That was his first answer. “Risk and adventure.” His second. “To discover what might be hidden beneath the surface of these ruins and to reap what is unseen.”

Finally, his eyes lowered, black gold irises leveled with his guest. “There is no ignorance,” he grinned. “There is knowledge.”

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

Braze blinked in surprise, his senses heightened by the unexpected encounter. Alone on a mission far from any familiar territories of the New Jedi Order, he had not anticipated meeting anyone else. The possibility that this stranger could be from another Jedi sect or temple crossed his mind. The Jedi often collaborated, sharing common goals, yet the identity of this individual remained shrouded in mystery.

Pausing to gather his composure, Braze decided to proceed with caution. It was prudent to learn more before revealing too much. Introducing himself might pave the way for trust, but first, he needed to understand who this stranger was and what brought him here. With a cautious tone, he prepared to ask a few thoughtful questions, hoping to unravel the intentions of his unexpected companion.

"I am Braze," he said, his posture shifting into a respectful bow, reminiscent of traditional gestures of honor. He straightened slightly, his gaze steady and attentive. "It appears our goals may align at this moment. I intend to proceed further in."

 

[Drane T'keen]

Now that bow was a gesture that this Thyrsian could appreciate. Drane responded with no less of a modest bow of his own, though his counterpart may not know that it was the same way a warrior did when about to engage blades. Granted, it was also just a coincidence. Maybe this Thyrsian had no intention of violence to begin with.

“I am Drane.” Braze. Drane. The Sith’s grin faded but he smiled inside. Hey. That rhymes. “Our goals may indeed align at this moment.” He repeated as his gaze turned to the sky yet again, though not with the threat of an ache with his craned neck. “Aligned like the luminaries beyond that blue illusion above our heads…” He spoke more to himself. “When are the stars right…” He trailed off in thought, cleared his throat.

“Then let us go inside.” Though Drane waited a moment. “Want to lead the way?” There was no hint of aggression on his face despite what might hide inside his mind behind his eyes.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

Braze had learned from his first encounter with Aliris Tremiru to never turn his back on strangers or let his guard down. The pale youth shook his head gently. "You were here before me; it's only polite that you enter first," he stated simply. There was no semblance of fear nor concern from him but he was cautious of strangers much more so as he tried to maintain a polite demeanor.​

 

[Drane T'keen]

Caution. Perhaps that’s all it was on this gentleman. Drane wouldn’t put it past him, whether his counterpart was a Jedi or a Sith or a bantha disguised as a person within this desert. Whoever and whatever Braze was, this was not a conversation that this Thyrsian Sith wanted to keep at a constant. He did like the sunlight as much as the heat but sweating to death was not his intention.

“Then I shall oblige your request,” he politely said. At that, he turned his back and began to descend the steps past the entrance to the ruins. Of course, with or without his swords clipped to his hips, he could sense if and when this other person might yet decide to attack him from behind.

Assuming he didn’t, the pair of men would find themselves, not in hell, but in a cool and refreshing environment at the bottom of the pit. “I have not explored these ruins before,” Drane said without turning to his contemporary. “Yet the air is…so close here…”

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

​

Braze had no intention of attacking him from behind. He didn't want to fight strangers if there was no need or if it wasn't for fun sparring. But he would be inclined to do so for defensive purposes. Braze did not seem to have a very itchy palm. He was more interested in fulfilling the mission he set out to complete here. Braze padded along after the man curiously as he watched him. He glanced this way and that as they drew closer and eventually stepped inside out of the hot, scorching rays. He breathed an audible sigh of relief as shadows overtook him and he no longer felt the burning heat of the sun washing over him. It was a small yet welcome relief.

"Drane is an... interesting name," Braze offered as he followed along, perhaps trying to make polite conversation despite lacking the social skills to do so.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Social skills amounted to a mountain of anthills in this environment, and never mind the comparison. Jedi. Sith. Neither person had to be of either profession to brave the darkness that stretched before them, endless in its breadth. Yet, it was expected. Torches or sconces would not be lit unless beckoned. One was just then, in the form of a flashlight, never mind a lightsaber.

A cone of white light shined as the Thyrsian moved into the hallway beyond the staircase. He had no idea what he might find in these ruins but, ultimately, if he found treasure worth his attention and said treasure required a sacrifice? Well, fortunately, he had not come alone. He had an offering of someone else’s bones.

“Is it?” Drane answered as if he had never thought about his name till that moment, and maybe he hadn’t. “I suppose it is as interesting a name as Braze.” Never mind the rhyme. “Drain in mine. Blaze in yours.” He shrugged, moving onward. “At least that’s what I think.” And his mind was unbroken. His flashlight found a door. “Care to open?”

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

Braze nodded and moved ahead.​

The air grew cooler, and the light dimmed as he walked through narrow corridors, his steps echoing softly against the stone. Rounding a corner, he saw it – a massive, ornate door, partially obscured by vines and dust.

With a deep breath, Braze pushed the door open, the ancient hinges groaning in protest. The door swung wide, revealing a breathtaking sight. An old library, untouched by time, stretched out before him. Shelves lined with dusty tomes and scrolls reached up to the high, vaulted ceiling, bathed in a gentle, golden light that filtered through cracks in the walls.

"This... this is incredible," Braze whispered, his voice reverberating through the silence.

Slowly, he moved deeper into the library, the musty scent of old paper and leather filling his senses. He paused, taking in the sheer magnitude of the knowledge contained within these walls. This was a bridge to the past.

With reverence, Braze reached for a particularly aged tome, its cover intricately embossed with symbols long forgotten. As he opened it, the pages crackling softly.

 

[Drane T'keen]

If this Sith was the type to stab a man in the back then he might have done it just then. Yet he wasn’t so the door opened uninterrupted. Neither person knew what to expect within this room. An ornate door might lead to a library as much as a torture chamber. Fortunately it was the former.

“Oh my…” Both men expressed their sentiments at about the same time.

Scrolls. Tomes. Books. Letters. Parchments. Papers. No datapad. No tech. There was an artist within this Thyrsian, such as he may paint with brush over blade, and Drane was ever the reader. He had not just discovered a chamber with treasure of another kind however. He had found himself an escape, with or without someone by his side.

“I may be here for some time,” he spoke above a whisper but, amid the quiet, it was an echo in the atmosphere. While his counterpart found a tome, Drane found a codex in black leather bound. Granted, there wasn’t much of a difference.

"Arkenstone: An Account of the Legends and Myths of the Voyages of Ark the Savage and His Founding of the Arcstone.” Drane whistled gently after that pronunciation. “Now there’s a title.” He opened the codex and turned to the first page. “Let’s see what secrets wait for me.”

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

​

Braze reached out into the Force, feeling a familiar presence calling to him. He opened his eyes, drawn to a peculiar tome – an old book titled "Storms of the Ages." Picking it up carefully, a plume of dust shifted, causing him to cough slightly. He waved a hand in front of his face to dispel the dust and began to examine the book. The leather-bound cover was worn, and the pages were yellowed with age. Intrigued, Braze sensed that the knowledge within could be important for his journey.

He gingerly opened the book, revealing intricate illustrations and cryptic notes in an ancient script. Each page seemed to resonate with an energy that tugged at his very core. As he delved deeper, he realized the book detailed the manipulation of weather through the Force, a skill lost to time. A skill that was known to him, yet elusive.


Closing the book with a newfound sense of purpose, Braze spoke up. " I think I've found what I've come here for. " He offered softly.

 

[Drane T'keen]

Whatever his contemporary was reading, Drane was thoroughly engrossed in his own tome. Arkenstone. It was a shorthand version of a rather very long name. Ark the Savage. Whatever had happened to the man, he had been on more than one voyage, as far as the pages said anyway.

“Call me Arken Hark. I am a simple man. One of three children. My parents are dead.” Drane read aloud, to himself as well, in a whisper. He otherwise liked to read in silence. However, in this chamber, his whisper was an echo, and he felt as though something, never mind someone, was listening to him; whether a curse in darkness or a sliver of light that bid the dust goodbye.

“Distant ships on the horizon. Wishes glitter like starlight. Visions drip from the lips of blind sailors maddened by lust.” He flipped the page, only read some words loud enough to be heard. “On this voyage, wanting no wife wanton, I find myself yearning for discovery, for treasures unburdened.”

Drane licked his lips, ever curious of what happened next, what secrets and wisdom he might glean from reading this text, when his counterpart spoke just then.

“Oh?” Drane lifted his gaze from his book but did not close it. “What did you find?” Neither did he close his eyes.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

"Hmnn? Oh, it's a book about a Force technique that I've been looking into," Braze remarked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "It's not a particularly easy one to master. I'm hoping this can provide further details on it."

He carefully packed the book on Storm Forged Wrath away, his movements deliberate and reverent. The significance of this find was clear in his expression; he was eager to leave and delve into the book's contents.

"This is a valuable recovery; You have fun Drane~" Braze added, deciding not to linger in the ruins any longer. He quickly but cautiously made his way out.

 

[Drane T'keen]

As Braze’s eyes gleamed, Drane’s own widened, curiosity rising as much as jealousy. Sure, his novel with its long name did offer some intriguing storytelling but so far nothing of Force techniques. Clearly I have chosen the wrong tome…

“Force technique, you say?” Though the Thyrsian Sith gave nothing away on his face. Sure, masking one’s signature in the Force was a cozy story in its own way, but so far neither person seemed to sense that gift in one another.

Braze carefully packed the book away while Drane stood there like an idiot gripping his codex of Arkenstone: Legends and Myths and Savages And Whozitwotzit. In retrospect, the man might have sipped wine and dined on crumpets in this chamber for hours on end if he had the time for it, but suddenly he didn’t.

And what does someone want with a Force technique if they are not Force-sensitive to begin with?

This library was quaint indeed, had an ornate door at one end of the chamber, one of which Braze quickly if cautiously made his way toward.

Yet said door would swiftly shut in Braze’s face thanks to a timely cast of Force Pull by Drane’s hand.

“Not so fast,” Drane encouraged. “You can leave. Sure. But you will be giving me that book first.” He demanded. Sure as kriffin' crumpets didn't ask.

Braze

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Drane T'keen

Braze froze in place and frowned as the door shut before him. He whirled on his heel, looking back at Drane. "That doesn't sound very sporting. You've found a treasure for yourself, have you not?" Braze questioned, crossing his arms and fixing Drane with a somber jade green look. "It's a technique called Storm Forged Wrath," he stated simply. "Have you ever heard of it?"

Braze sighed, recognizing the look. "Knowledge like this shouldn't be hoarded or stolen. If you're truly interested, we can study it together. Otherwise, I will defend what I've found."