Fight Or Flight (Open)

[WolfMortum]

Lothal,
Galactic Alliance Space,
The Outer Rim Territories.

He had visited this world once before though back then he hadn't come alone. He had been among a team of his fellow Disciples lead by the Knights of Ren in an attempt to secure supplies from a discovered cave system holding crystals akin to those they utilized in their lightsabers. Their infiltration had been a success, they had come in under the guise of a merchant vessel and then proceeded by swoop or speeder to their intended destination where they had then entered the caves only to discover that they hadn't been alone, the Jedi too were there. It had been a case of bad luck he had thought back then, and yet now he was glad to have experienced it.

This particular stunt of his had not been sanctioned by his superiors back on Virgillia, the Bastion of Ren had been a place of isolation of late where he had pulled into himself and excluded the majority of his peers, instead trying to reason with himself his place among them. His faith in what the First Order could achieve was without a doubt, bordering on devout, yet he was not convinced in himself and those questions had pushed him to a place of great instability. His life as a Jedi before the Knights of Ren had been brought to a savage end by the Sith, they of whom had captured, tortured and humiliated him for years before it had been members of the Galactic Alliance themselves who had attacked the Sith and in doing so, set him free. They had not known of him nor did either side pay any tribute to the other, Brennan had secured a ride off world to Svivren and found only the ashes of his past. In his loss, his desperation had led him to the First Order and though things might be different now, back then they had taken him in readily, already stripped of all that had been behind him, broken and ready to be built anew in the image of the Supreme Leaders will.

Having gone through so much and having achieved so little, he had come to a conclusion. If he was to be of any use to the First Order then he would have to prove himself first and foremost to himself, that in doing so, nothing else might break him again.

Lothal City, the capital of the world. It was here that the public transport would descend upon the world, Brennan disembarking along with numerous other civilian personnel. He carried no bag and held only the belongings he needed in order to protect himself. His lightsaber of which was buried on the inside of his black jacket left open at the front, the hilt clipped to the pocket on the inner left while his Dirk, the steel weapon was buried within his right boot, strapped securely to his leg, the hilt of the large knife left free for a quick draw given the right situation. His attire was nothing one might expect of a member of the Order of Ren, which of course was the sole purpose of disguising himself as any other typical sentient life-form here, to be able to blend in and leave the First Order out of his business there entirely. Secrecy in their line of work was of a top priority, and too part of his personal mission, his objective if you will. If he were to test himself, to determine for example if he truly was capable of holding the title of a disciple under their ranks, then he would need to show the appropriate temperament, no matter what situation might pass him by; giving up any information of the First Order, of Virgillia or their personnel for example would in his mind be a failure worthy of death. His loyalty had become so embedded, to the point of being mentally unhealthy for him, that he was willing to risk his own life before he would be willing to risk the secrets of their Order; After-all, he was nothing to them. Not yet. Not until he had earned that right.

The City streets were busied, surprisingly so for one who had been kept up in the Bastion with so little contact to the people outside of his own tormenting company. As he moved with a portion of the crowd, he found himself glancing from one figure to the other, his mind racing with anxiety yet too the excitement that came with being in a potentially dangerous environment. Unless things had changed since he had last ventured out on a mission, he was here behind enemy lines so to speak and that held potential that caused a corner of his mouth to twist into a faint half-smirk. It was the first step, and he had set himself further expectations to fulfill before he would return to Virgillia. Personal training was the goal here, through conditions that were meant to test himself, to push himself to his limit if he could. A fine line between reaching your physical peak and biting off more than you could chew, yet he had come this far and turning back wasn't an option for him.

This was only day one of twenty eight and he still had yet to make his presence here known. How he might achieve this, had yet to reach him. While keeping his affiliation to the Knights of Ren out of this endeavor, his goal was not to remain undetected but quite the opposite; in the month that he aimed to spend there on the world of Lothal, he too planned to attract all the wrong kind of attention, that he might be forced either into a fight or if too much for him to take on, be forced to evade his pursuers yet not leave the world, to up the ante and to challenge all that he'd learned thus far.

 

[Kaiden Rohn]

Lothal.


Seedy underbelly of the galaxy. Fringes of Alliance space. Or at least, one of the many underbellies of the fat mess that was the galaxy. Perfect for Kaiden Rohn to hide out on. [member="Kiyron"] had been able to give him some information- local police here were easy to bribe. Hitting the First Order would be easy right under their noses- they were close, but not that close. Or at least, the nose-slits in their masks. He sat on a bench near the spaceport, waiting for a shipment of small arms to be delivered. Oddly enough, the shipment was marked as tubes. In a way, they were tubes. Tubes with triggers that caused people to die.

He smirked as he put a cigarette into his mouth. If a Sith wasn't going to kill him, his own vices would. He watched the people exit the spaceport. To everyone else, he was just an older guy sitting on a bench smoking a cigarette, who happened to have a few scars on his face. Wasn't uncommon a place so close to the Sith- they were mean bastards. He wore gloves to cover up the Republic tattoos. And in the mingling crowd- he caught a glimpse of [member="Brennan Cabrol"]. He thought of him as some kid, but nothing else. Nothing had set off Kaiden's bells yet. The kid was incognito, and the Commando was none the wiser to his true identity, let alone his purpose.

 

[WolfMortum]

Time here was not of the essence, in fact it was of abundance and Brennan needed to remind himself of this; the atmosphere about the Spaceport district streets was busied with numerous inbound and outbound flights; his local transport had come in only what felt like moments ago and already it was departing while he walked the path with his hands in his pockets, lollygaggin' if you will at his own pace. He had nowhere to be and knew nothing of the district. Around him, anyone could have picked up on his presence, any number of them could have been Jedi or someone with more than half a clue but as he wandered with a casual sway to his posture, his eyes glanced about his environment with a vague and distant look, as if he had not a care in the world. People his age rarely did, especially in a City so well comprised as this one. For whatever the local populace might have been, the City seemed to want for nothing as the giant buildings stood over all, as far as he could see skyward, they towered like durasteel giants.

He couldn't have known there were a soldier about, he walked directly passed [member="Kaiden Rohn"] who like himself, fit into the crowd of civilians perfectly well. Military personnel admittedly weren't high on his list of those to consider, if any were to catch on to his presence he felt it'd have been the Jedi of which he held little clue as to where they might be. They were the prime target, though any personnel of the Galactic Alliance being threatened or engaged would surely call to attention the presence of an enemy hostile. A month was a long time to spend on an enemy planet however, especially should he call attention to himself on day one. This was the kind of expectations that he was putting on himself, the sort of intensive and damn near suicidal training that he felt might best help him to find his way through the darkness, to better understand his limitations and to identify his strengths that he might again find some pride in himself for whatever he might be capable of.

So what if he were to throw his life away, there was nothing connecting him to anyone else and his place among the secretive Order wasn't nearly high enough to damage the Knights of Ren any, nor put the First Order off kilter. Should he ascend the ranks one day then he might earn the right to be a valued hand of the Supreme Leader, yet that day remained still too far off and Brennan had not the power nor strength in the Force yet to make demands. Moving slowly down the street, he decided that the best way to learn more about the place he had landed within was to go somewhere where tongues were loosest. What better place than a local cantina where people talked to much on one side, and the other side drunk themselves into a stupor so they need not listen.