Public Tales in the Night | Campfire Stories, The Redoubt

[Zel Sharratt]

Tales in the Night
The Redoubt
Tags: Valery Noble , Efret Farr , Ridia Alma-Ater Solii , Ronhor Tillo , Inanna Harth , Die Shize , Open

"Refueling station is closed. Cloud of radiation moved in. They aren't lettin' folks in."

A party of wayward travelers found themselves within the depths of The Redoubt, all with one reason or another for their presence in this place. It was notoriously dangerous, with high levels of toxicity that made it near impossible to travel to some locations on the planet. After the destruction of Csilla and fracturing and restructuring of Chiss society in the aftermath, it was especially neglected. Still, people had their purpose for being in this place, and Zel was one such individual. A scribe of his calibur was one to desire the knowledge the planet held, and his recent expedition had proved to be most successful. Unfortunately, all of that archaeological progress he had made had come at a cost.

He was stuck... but at the very least he could be productive. A collection of travelers from across the galaxy? Perhaps breaking the ice could get him some oral history to record. The Mandalorian sat closer to the makeshift campfire they had made, leaning back in a chair-like stone he had found himself.

"Perhaps we should exchange stories of travels to pass the time," he suggested. "Wayward adventurous souls are known to collect tales from far and wide on their journeys. I say we make the wait worth our time."

"Blithering bucket-head," a Rodian sneered. "Forget this."

And the man stormed off. Zel gave a neutral tilt of his helmet, or moreso a tilt of his entire body. The helmet was rather rigid.

"What a poor-mannered fellow," he mused. "Oh well... His loss."

He'd miss all of the lore. That was truly a loss indeed.

OOC: Hey all! Just restating details from my lfg. FYI stuff, this is a NO COMBAT thread. If you show up to the thread and cannot resist throwing hands with that Jedi who kicked your teeth in during the last invasion or one of your core character traits is a burning desire to murder every Mandalorian you see, chances are this thread is not a good fit for you. This is strictly about fun lore and campfire stories.

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Zel Sharratt
​

It wasn't often these days that Drego got the chance to stretch his legs and venture out of Protectors space. After the trip to Ancora, Drego felt the need to bond more with his vod. Zel Sharratt struck him as an odd fellow, and one he wanted to know more about.

What had been planned as a small trip to the Redoubt now had them stuck. He made a note to call Mia when they got back and apologize for whatever paperwork he backed her up with.

"Some folks just don't know how to handle a good story, I guess." Drego chuffed, sitting across from the fish-bowl mando. "I don't mind one. Hit me, Zel."

 

[Ronhor Tillo]

Ronhor tilted his head at the sight of the Rodian, giving a small shake of his head. The man seemed quite stressed and with everyone being stuck here, it was almost like striking a match in a room filled with powder kegs. He sighed to himself, running his hand down his face and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Patience is a tree with bitter roots that can bear the sweetest fruits. You should be wise to remember that statement, Sir."
With that statement, Ronhor made his way over towards the Mandalorians, brushing himself off before taking a small seat on the ground, crossing his legs beneath himself and resting his hands on his knees. Giving a small nod in the direction of both Zel Sharratt and Drego Ruus in acknowledgement before looking over towards Zel. Hm...The concept of helmets always seemed strange to Ronhor. It was just another layer keeping you away from the beauty and freedom of nature. But to each their own.

"I do concur, Sir Mandalorian. Please do "hit us" with one of your stories...I mean the hitting part as a metaphor however. I am sure you have plenty of experience to rely on for your tales."

 

[Ridia Alma-Ater Solii]

The history goes its own way, dizzying the minds of mortals in the dunes of pain, and there is no sweeter fruit in this vale of tears than for the soul - peace and the voice of destiny surrounding you.
Against the background of the lightning storms receding beyond the horizon, under the darkened rays of the sleeping stars, in the dust of aeons past, the living 'statue' was making its rounds in search of languishing fires in the pitch blackness. To any passer-by, even at arm's length, Ridia could easily give the impression of a lone column animated by some ancient spell of a sorcerer, which in an act of rebellion had left the vaults of majestic pagan and cyclopean temples, lost in the abyss of eternity forever. Appearing hot as desert sand on a starlit morning, bright red, almost ruby in colour, her beautiful long hair curled and danced in the wind, rare in these parts, following Ridia, usually stately after her mistress. Her mighty body and facial features glowing as if from within with a kind of devotional fire indicated a long period of time spent by the religious warrior in the endless storms and heart-chilling sandstorms of the Redoubt at night. Having found herself here at first by pure chance, Ridia soon, through various logical and not quite scientific speculations, came to the promising conclusion that there was a special living substance in the interior and aura emitted by this and other scattered planets in this region of the galaxy, which has no exact physical embodiment, but which contributes to the appearance of almost mystical insights and certain states of consciousness in representatives of various intelligent races, bordering on what, according to the definition of some ascetics, could be called - attraction to the unknown. Being herself not just an executor (read as a hammer) of the just and firm will of the time-forgotten church, but also a deep researcher of everything sublime and metaphysical, Ridia came to the resolution of a rather easy thesis, in this place, among the seemingly empty ruins of the cruel and bloody past there is a certain concentration of life fields and destinies of the greatest and most important representatives of the galaxy from all its ends and edges, which was explained by the countless attempts of the woman to leave this planet, each time going only deeper and deeper, approaching those marvellous lands and territories where she herself could become a part of such a crossing of views, stories and dreams. Gradually, the pre-dawn twilight was taking over, enriching and fringing the already mysterious landscape of Redoubt with new orbits and layers of colours and deep tones, giving it the incomparable appearance of the dreamlike tales so familiar to everyone from their childhood, young years. Irrationality and relevance of memories suppressed by consciousness and memory gradually, like cute tailed animals, swarmed out from under ravines, stones and thin grains of cooled sand with inclusions of engineering and artificial rubbish and various rotten edibles, claiming their rights to the wholeness and supposed staidness of our individual and collective worldviews, expressing the interests of the ardent opposition by striving to prove the primacy of the distant and past over the lost notions of the future and now.
With each passing minute, under the constant streams of sweat running down her body and the heavy plumage of her multi-kilogram armour, the two and a half metre tall figure of Ridia was still walking calmly towards the point of light - the attractor of life amidst the swirling chaos of the primal elements of the impending night. Her right, artificial hand gingerly rummaged through the deep pockets of her floor-length leather dress in search of miscellaneous religious food or something similar to food that she could share with those sitting around the campfire, in places vertically wavy and lightly sparkling flames of which were already gradually visible in the distance, adding to the woman's already somewhat weary but joyous state a touch of camaraderie and peacefulness that always precedes any many hours of companionship, especially in such an atmosphere as she was in at the moment. The huge blade occasionally struck the semblance of granite and gravel in some places, heralding a dozen metres ahead one of Ridia's professional fields of endeavour, which at the moment tended more towards religious and ontological teachings and their preaching to interested individuals and personalities. Before openly approaching and declaring her intentions, Ridia tried to look from her height at the state of her clothes, which could most easily be described in words of exquisite unkemptness, emanating from the very essence and nature of this environmental terrain, looking more and more like some hidden nightmare from the eyes of higher beings, a literary island of discussion of world dilemmas and near-philosophical dialogues, laced with well-timed jokes and not quite moral anecdotes.
The first people Ridia noticed were the figures of three men with their backs turned to the outer spaces of the omnipresent blackness, like theosophists from a young girl torn from her true youth, painstakingly spreading the material for a fruitful and slightly serious dialogue in the company of wanderers and their shadows - the embodied memory of days gone by. Having announced the surrounding company with a light rattle of metal armour elements, Ridia at first stood upright as a sign of respect and acknowledgement and bowed to each person sitting, and after carefully lowering herself took a relaxed pose from the style of contemplative life of a church monk, softly expressing agreement together with a light humour with the thoughts expressed aloud.
"Any speech, spoken or written, that has at its core the power of truth and history once happened will always ignite fire and interest among wanderers and travellers like us. Be the first and open to us such a wonderful treasure trove of history of tales, Mr Zel Sharratt."
Ridia said with a soft smile, setting herself up to chat until the early hours of the morning while the tinkling crackle of the burning log invited new storytellers to join the marvellous company of creatures amidst the mists of history and time.

(Wings are part of the art, Ridia doesn't have them)

Tags: Zel Sharratt

 

[Efret Farr]

Efret was no stranger to unexpected travelling delays. As an archeologist, she had experienced her fair share and, also as an archeologist, she understood the insignificance of any inconvenience: she lived in this galaxy for only a blip of time, and whatever happened to keep her a little longer in one place than she had planned was even more negligible.

It did not bother Father Time if the refueling station was closed, so why should it bother her?

In fact, she would have been bothered if the radiation cloud had drifted anywhere else. If their collective path either onwards or home had been unobstructed, the experience of forging unexpected bonds would have been lost. That, too, would have been a tragedy.

Efret shifted closer to her friend and grandmaster where they sat near the fire, feeling very cozy and excited. Her mind wandered briefly to what story she would share when her time came. The legend of Jadzi and the Upsa, probably—she did like recounting that one.

Outfit + equipment; lapel translation clip (currently switched on); lightsaber (green blade color)
Valery Noble Zel Sharratt​

 

[Valery Noble]

​

"I wonder what kind of stories we'll hear. Or what you're planning to tell." Valery leaned in closer to her dear friend Efret Farr and wrapped an arm around the woman's shoulders to pull her against her own side. Valery then began to smirk, leaned in closer and whispered, "Maybe I'll tell a scary story~" She knew plenty of those, both fiction and real. Some of those tales, she had lived through herself.

Others had been passed down to her.

But no matter what stories were to be shared tonight, Valery was eager to listen and tell them alongside a good friend. Someone she trusted and wanted to share a lot more with.

"Who will start with a story?" She asked the group, but they seemed eager to hear one from Zel Sharratt . So Valery sat back and turned to him as well, eager to hear what he had to share.

Efret Farr Zel Sharratt ​

 

[Astri Elyse]

Tag: Zel Sharratt Valery Noble Efret Farr

Astri sat down quietly, huddled in a dark cloak, trying to put space between herself and the two Jedi near her. Though she had found warmth and tutelage on the day she'd met Master Farr—and in fact the Jedi Archeologist was the only Master she'd found those qualities in thus far—she was trying to avoid bothering the Jedi Master, even if the desire to cling to her side was present.

Master Farr had been nice to her. Had shared knowledge with her, answered her questions, and was the only Jedi willing to answer her questions about the Force without the typical Jedi platitudes that only resulted in more questions. She thought the woman reminded her of her late mother, except Astri hadn't really known her. So, she supposed, she wished that her mother had been like Master Farr.

She pulled her cloak tighter, shivering a little in the cold. The other Jedi with Master Farr—who Astri felt like she should have known, but somehow didn't—asked after who would start with their stories.

Astri, typically, stayed silent. Public speaking was about the furthest thing from her strong suit. And also... she hated oral history. It was a terribly inaccurate way to pass down information.

 

[Zel Sharratt]

The Redoubt
Tags: Everyone

"Who will start with a story?"

"I can start," Zel insisted. "There seems to be a clammering for such anyways. Ehem. This is a tale that goes back to the time before the ancient Rakatan Empire and their fall."

He sat in silence for a moment, letting the wind set the mood.

"There was once a race of ancient beings that we now call Celestials," the Mandalorian began. "Vast was their technological advancement, so vast that to our ancient ancestors they were, to the pre-contact sentient, gods. They employed entire species to make mechanical marvels that could move stars and planets, hold extragalactic terrors at bay, create new life... One such instrument I have found some records of they called the Cosmic Turbine. Records are sparce, dating back to the Jedi Order's third schism. Some believe that the machine was used to create the Vultar system. Its gravitational pull was so powerful that it could tow planets, like starships caught in a tractor beam. Dark Jedi, banished for the taboo of twisting life itself, took shelter on Vultar, where they lay claim to the machine... But in their own blind rage, and the foolishness to believe that they could control the technology of the Celestials, the Dark Jedi destroyed themselves, taking the entire Vultar system with them."

Zel took a moment to kindle the fire, flipping the log in its center. Such a curious tale. Short, but the notion of such technology facinated him. It was by that kind of power that their galaxy came to be after all. The Corellia system was formed from similar otherworldy meddling. To that end the root of all civilization could be found in understanding these things...

But where were they now?

"It's unclear what happened to the Cosmic Turbine," he relayed. "Many believe that it was claimed by the Vultar Cataclysm... but some believe that the machine is still out there, floating in the aether... It simply needs waking from its slumber, and a fool headstrong enough to believe they can succeed where the Dark Jedi failed."

That was a good mood-setter. Zel lounged back in his seat, leaving the floor open for others to jump in.

 

[Drego Ruus]

Tag: Zel Sharratt Astri Elyse Valery Noble Efret Farr
​

"What'do you think?" Drego inquired. "Think it's still out there, waiting to be rediscovered?"

Drego had never taken too much interest in ancient history, especially that of the jedi. He was never gifted with the power to move objects with his mind, and he honestly was glad of that. He could deal with sith and jedi alike with nothing more than a slugthrower. He thought it was more impressive that way.

 

[Efret Farr]

Efret motioned to Astri, then held out her arm to envelop the padawan in a side hug should the girl take the invitation and draw closer.

She herself was not sure if the Mandalorian's question had been directed at his kinsman or not, but she decided to answer anyway. "Maybe, maybe not," she began. "What's life without a little mystery?"

Though she obviously wasn't one of the Jedi who believed that some absolute knowledge was above them—especially when it came to the Force—she was not stubbornly scientifically-minded either. Herself and Dr. Aaaine differed in that key characteristic, but still they had somehow become friends in the years since they had first met; Efret liked to think it was due to the substantial area of overlap that a neurobiologist and an archeologist had between them, even if the Jedi master was more willing to not know than her friend was.

If only Efret knew the wedge that difference would someday form to cleave them apart.

Astri Elyse Valery Noble Drego Ruus Zel Sharratt
Ridia Alma-Ater Solii Ronhor Tillo​

 

[Ronhor Tillo]

Good riddance. That was Ronhor's thought process about it. He wasn't overtly a fan of technology at the end of the day. Sure, technology can be used in people's lives, but there comes a point where technology overtakes nature. Wasting their lives watching Holo-vids and and Zikzok, instead of exercising, working on the land and making themselves a better person. Life was short. It was best to experience things in person, like this...story time.

"Perhaps it is waiting to be discovered. Perhaps it's a pile of scrap spread throughout the Galaxy. All I know is that much power is never a good thing. "

Was he arrogant in his belief? Of course he was. He'd admit that himself. But he wouldn't change it. Too much technology, too much power was never a good thing...Of course, he wouldn't blame a Mandalorian for thinking otherwise. It was simply what any living being would try to do. Get as much protection and power as they could, to do what they wanted.

Drego Ruus Valery Noble Efret Farr Astri Elyse Zel Sharratt Ridia Alma-Ater Solii

 

[Ridia Alma-Ater Solii]

"The most surprising thing is that throughout my life I have almost never heard a story about a given artefact, proposed and similar in its structure more in the form of a semi-mythical statement than in the form of psalms and chants surrounding any object or process taken by them in a certain halo of greatness or tragedy, Therefore, the problem of the great buildings of the past and their use by one or another person remains relevant even today, especially considering that there will always be those who will not be able to resist the sweet feeling that overwhelms them at a chance encounter with a space turbine. On this basis, history itself and its morals have the right to equal the best representatives of modern galactic races, both in the ranks of leaders of powerful civilisations, and the least status, but no less morally and spiritually gifted."
As she thought about it, Ridia tried to recall from her early years any mention of legends at least similar to this story, which often appeared in the tales and whispers of the young priests of the church. The Celestials and their boldness with regard to the basic constants of existence, which they had coloured aeons ago, had always seemed to Ridia more the act of wise forefathers of the galaxy than of chaos-hungry or cosmic fireworks-hungry children. So the tale that began with the mystical past was itself a separate warning to any opponent of the great creation of the universe, pointing to the impossibility of the mortal mind to master the mysteries of the world around it, a separate warning to any opponent of the great creation of the universe, pointing to the impossibility of the mortal mind to cope with the mysteries of the world around us, so much like our hearts, which are always beating to the beat of wars and emotions. "How mortals' lives are both similar and so different from those of the gods. They have the abyss, and we have the will and the muddy earth," Ridia said, as if quoting a random memory out loud, without realising it, her own thoughts being diluted by the inner contradictions and plans of all those gathered around the campfire so late in the day. Was it not that after so many winters and years, Ridia once again had a chance to reveal some of the cards about her nameless fate, scattered among the lonely stars?

Tags: Zel Sharratt Ronhor Tillo Efret Farr Drego Ruus