Private When the Dead Come Knocking

[Tarish Galland]

Jacen Nimdok

There was literally no joy in returning to Kashyyyk for the former Silver. His gear holding the means to his only if slim chance at sneaking into the place that once housed him so long ago. He'd trained here. Lived here among other places. And in the past it had been something of a bastion for him.

Now it just made his teeth buzz and brought a horrendous migraine.

The light that permeated the whole place had made him feel drunk. His reincarnation a process that had stripped him of the former light he had brought to the galaxy and replacing it with a force presence that reaked of death and darkside.

Thankfully Atoan burial ceremonies required force users to be hidden with Taozin amulets or his presence might have been found a lot sooner.

He had come in quietly, which was a daunting task for the physical being that he was. Loud and proud had always been a motto for him in the past. And the drunk sensation had not helped him in the slightest.

Several times an unlocked door had been his saving grace to avoid being seen. The squeak of his footsteps on more than one occasion causing a pause in someone traveling the halls. His masked figure likely something out of a cheap holo-vid horror movie as he snuck along with painful care to an office he had heard of.

To offer something that might have been eventually helpful in at least redeeming previous actions.

The heavy sensation of his limbs in the continued presence of the light had him twisting the handle of the door with less than anything worthy of being called graceful. Like an all night bender survivor, he stumbled into the office and closed it behind him sharply. Leaning against the door with heavy panting from exertion.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

“... I’m not really sure,” Nimdok said, speaking into his comlink. He sat in his office, feet propped up on the desk as he leaned back. “The whole thing has been kept very hush-hush, as you can imagine. No… no, trying to smuggle them out of there isn’t going to do them or us any good. The best thing we can do, that I would recommend with my limited knowledge of the situation, would be to remain on standby in case something were to come up…”

The door to his office was thrown open with sudden force by a black-armored figure. Nimdok quickly lowered his feet to the floor, muttering, “Sorry, something’s just come up.”

He turned off his comlink and stared at the intruder. So far they had yet to open fire or lob a grenade into his office, but whoever this was, they had no discernible Force signature, were dressed in a color usually associated with Sith, and had barged in without warning.

“Good evening,” he said, his tone cool but calm. “May I help you?”

Skorne​

 

[Tarish Galland]

Jacen Nimdok​

He took the stunned few seconds between his entrance and the question lobbed his way to steady himself.

Breath in. Breath out. Through the nostrils...through...nostrils. He mentally coached himself as his hand rose in a half-hearted wave.

"Eve...ning." he huffed, straining a bit before standing upright. "Yeah. That would be splendid really. Ima sit down. And put my sabers on the desk. Not...not here...to fight." He struggled with the words. The world doing a slow turn as he ambled in and grabbed the chair opposite his for support and slumped into it.

Two sabers were produced. One of sith design, another of plainer design. His hands sliding back to his thighs as he steadied himself further.

"You ever hear of...the Amani case. Her killin...a knight...before she ran off, to the sith?" He asked, fiddling with his helmet. Gloved fingers fumbling with the pressurized lock mechanism.

He paused long enough to ask another question.

"You have water by chance? I'm dying here."

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

The intruder spoke with slightly slurred, slow speech, huffing and puffing as if he were out of breath. He staggered into a chair, nearly crashing into several boxes (Nimdok’s office was notoriously messy; he was a data hoarder). Nimdok squinted at him, glancing down briefly as the man in black laid two lightsabers on his desk.

Sith or not, he had a feeling this guy couldn’t give him much trouble even if he wanted to.

“The Amani case?” Nimdok echoed, then shrugged. “Can’t say I’ve heard of it.”

The request for a drink was answered with Nimdok pointing a finger toward a water cooler standing against the wall. He still didn’t know who the hell this guy was.

Skorne​

 

[Tarish Galland]

Jacen Nimdok​

Had the helmet been freed, Errik might have seen the surprised blink the man was giving him. Instead being given a long silence before a sigh.

He spared a glance to the water cooler, the light not yet relenting enough of its presence for him to muster the energy for such a feat yet.

"While back...almost two or more years. Amani Serys had her master...uh...Elise...something, snatched by...bounty hunters. Ura Iolar was with her." He began, suddenly realizing how far back that had been now. "Afterwards, and some questionable choices later, I found her...during a Sith Empire...incursion onto Onderon."

He fumbled a bit more with the mechanism and finally managed to unlock it. The helmet came off, showing the other man his face. The scar was glowing a dull tone compared to its usual lustrous glow. His eyes still shone however with the amber hue of sith corruption. Though his eyes were bright for a different reason as sweat shone on his skin.

"Learned what she was doing...and why. She made her debut...as a Sithling...after she killed me." He set the helmet on his knee, pointing a thumb to himself with the other hand.

"Silver jedi knight...Tarrish Galland. Well, former. Granted if you weren't familiar...with Amani...I really doubt you know me. Biggest thing I did was...well, die." He grimaced a little, blinking at him.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Join the club. I died and came back too. Albeit not as a Dark Sider… I hope you intend to explain that at some point…

Nimdok listened to the story in silence. Amani Serys… no, the name still didn’t ring any bells. Neither did Tarrish Galland. Ura Iolar, he had seen around; Elise he believed was now dead. But there was an easy explanation for his not knowing Amani and Tarrish.

“I wasn’t with the Silvers then,” he said, getting up from his chair to reach the cooler. “I assume you know who I am already, since you sought me out…?”

He returned to his seat and laid a cup of water down in front of his unusual guest. Then he clasped his hands in front of him, thinking a little harder about the names Amani and Tarrish.

Nope. Still nothing.

“I see… and you’re telling me this for what reason, Mr. Galland? Do you need my assistance with something? A certain… problem?” He gestured vaguely at the Padawan’s corrupted visage.

Skorne

 

[Tarish Galland]

Jacen Nimdok​

"Have an...idea of who you are. Wouldn't say I know...but you seemed the right choice." He responded quietly.

"Thank you." However meek the words might have seemed, they were sincere. It took self control to not guzzle the water, instead taking enough to rid himself of the dry throat he had.

"Formerly Knight. In the records I'm probably labeled kay-eye-ay. And a recent meeting has had me...rethinking life choices. So yes. A certain problem...or gain. For you at least." The cup was set back on the table, his posture relaxing a bit with the drink.

"I was brought back by Typhojem disciples after my body was sent home to Atoa. My mothers request...and regret. They spun my thoughts against the Silvers. But that influence faded after a while, after too many differences...discrepancies." A solemn look passed before he sighed and got back on track.

"They used sith magics to bring me back. Kashyyyk and Silver Rest were home once. And now...well. Even coming near causes pain. Never mind sitting here." He waved a hand, the motion slow. "But wanted to ask to help...quiet and discreet. And peacefully...without having my head kicked in for it. I know what happens when the wrong people darken the doorstep."

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Nimdok held his hand out for a shake. “Professor Errik Nimdok, at your service. I hate having to call myself a Master.”

The mention of Typhojem disciples was a little more familiar. Nimdok had never faced them himself, but he was aware of their existence.

“I see.” Nimdok ran his thumb over his bottom lip. “Am I to understand that you still want to be a Jedi in whatever way you can? Or would you consider that avenue closed to you?”

He had a lot of questions, some of them harder to answer. Given the corrupting nature of the Dark Side, chances were high that Tarrish, despite his good intentions, would not have full control over his emotions and actions. He might behave in a more violent and aggressive manner than a Jedi should, for instance. Nimdok could neither dismiss the possibility that this was all a con, with Tarrish serving as the puppet of the Disciples of Typhojem—whether he was aware of them pulling the strings or not.

Still… if Tarrish was telling the truth, Nimdok felt compelled to help him.

“I may be able to alleviate your allergy to goodness and Light,” Nimdok said, a wry smile curling his lips. “Would you happen to have something on you that could be imbued? A trinket with some personal value, perhaps?”

Skorne​

 

[Tarish Galland]

Jacen Nimdok​

He shook the offered hand and offered a smile, though a weary one.

"Noted, and I can imagine that gets tiring...especially from umpteen number of padawans and younglings." A bit of humor in his tone before addressing the next question.

"I doubt I could ever truly be a jedi again. A soul isn't supposed to be wrenched back into a body. And there is a stain that runs deeper than just dark side in me." He remembered waking to the scene around him, and as pale as he was, what little color he had seemed to fade a bit more at the mention.

"But willing to help however I can. I'd rather keep a bit of distance between myself and the Silvers officially." He took another sip from the cup before openly thinking on the next topic.

"Would an amulet work?" He asked, producing a decorative necklace from a pocket on his belt and sitting it on the desk between them.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

“A stain?” Nimdok sighed. “Don’t we all. The line between good and evil runs through every heart. But if you’ve already overcome much of the… reprogramming inflicted upon you during your resurrection, you could very well make a full recovery. After all, the Dark Side is ultimately the result of one’s spiritual state. An outside influence can only hold sway for so long, if what’s inside is at odds with it.”

It would be a struggle, no doubt, but not impossible. In the meantime, certain measures could be taken to assist him.

“Yes, that’ll do.” Nimdok took the amulet from Tarrish, holding it up by its chain. “I only do a little enchanting, but this is fairly simple...”

After a minute or so of concentrating on the amulet, Nimdok had successfully fashioned it into a talisman. “There we are.” He held it out for Tarrish to take. “Now, about helping the Silvers… what would you be able to do?”

Job interview starts now, kid.

Skorne​