His Last Walk

[Amarthaer Saptheth]

Music

Jakku​

Graveyard of Giants​

​

Dead husks of old, crashed ships jutted out of the sandy landscape, monoliths of a time long past. There was something sacred about this ground, the memories of a battle long past still clinging to the wreckage reminiscent of an old fog. Millions of lives had ended here in one cataclysmic event, with those individuals that traipsed the sands in their stead leaving their own psychic imprints as well. It was more than enough for any sensitive to take in, the sensory overload present capable of overloading anyone's senses. This was a quiet place of reverence, and even Amarthaer was fascinated by it, though her true purpose here was far more sinister.

Her masters had sent her here with one thing in mind: taking a life. There was a Jedi to be found here, one by the name of [member="Connor Harrison"]. Supposedly he shared a close bond with a woman one of her masters wished dead, and killing this man would bring that goal one step closer. Of course, she was well aware that this would serve as a test as well. No doubt the both of them wanted to see just how well one as untrained as herself would fare against an individual who had been deemed a master of the Force in its entirety. Where most would have held some sort of fear in their hearts she retained none, instead maintaining only a steady resolve to achieve.

Bare feet sunk slightly into the desert sand, where she did her best to stick to the shadows in order to avoid the relentless sun. A visible aura of darkness clung to her regardless of where she stood, wrapping about her form in wisps tangible as a strangely cold smoke. Long, dark hair swayed down past her waist, its strands matted and unclean as they fell in her face. Hands completely blackened by corruption reached up to brush it out of the way so that she might see, revealing a face just as tainted by the dark. In contrast her eyes were bright, smoldering embers of fire, a final testament to the unnatural sickness that already wracked her body.

A sort of unnatural whimsy accompanied her as she slipped between shadows and the bright sun, her form never wholly visible in the light for more than a few seconds at a time. In every way she was a predator on the hunt, near-silent prayers to the goddess Vahl falling in an alien tongue past her lips as she pressed on. He was here, somewhere, and she could sense it. It wouldn't be long before she and this fabled Jedi crossed paths, and then he would fall, just as all those deemed unworthy were destined to do. It was only natural, after all, and it befit their place in the world: beneath.

 

[Connor Harrison]

He had thought about bringing [member="Aria Vale"] here, away from Voss and the Jedi. To reflect on things and to coerce her into his way of thinking, but he hadn’t. Not this time. It was a beautiful landscape of the past here on the plains of Jakku at the Graveyard – skeletons of ships brought down in wars and skirmishes jutted from the sand like hellish sculptures reaching for the sky.

Tombs that housed thousands of bones from those trapped during the crash landing. Ships ransacked and looted over the years for materials and treasures.

The skeletal frame of the Star Destroyer still stood tallest above them all however, and it was the one Connor had climbed numerous times, and a few times with Kyra Sol, now recovering from her mutilation.

Sat a few meters up from the desert on the warm hull that dwarfed him, Connor rested his arms on his legs as he looked out to the horizon. It was still. It was warm. It was peaceful. A slight breeze blew grains of sand across his feet.

[member="Taeli Raaf"] was on his mind again. What had she in mind for when he returned from tracking Ignus? She clearly wasn’t all she projected herself to be, Connor always knew that, but more than ever it felt like he was getting close to the real Taeli. The one before the Jedi mantle.

He had to see her again soon. He couldn’t wait forever.

Things were drawing to a head. Connor felt it. All these paths were starting to converge on one straight road away from his old life and towards a new one. He just still wasn’t sure of the obstacles in his way, and who would help and who would hinder.

[member="Amarthaer Saptheth"]

 

[Amarthaer Saptheth]

Her head cocked slightly to one side as she watched him where he sat, seemingly oblivious to what imminent danger stood unnaturally still in the shadows just a few feet away, simply watching him. By himself he was an oddity, the way his presence ebbed and flowed an alien thing, there being nothing but a few shreds of darkness there. In comparison to anything else she had ever sensed he was one entirely free of that toxicity that had become normal, a relatively clean slate where hers had already been cracked and broken in places. In every way an individual could be he was peculiar to her, and she understood innately now why he was wanted dead. Unlike her or her masters, he was weak, and therefore undeserving of life.

There would be nothing to immediately alert him of her presence, no dangers that would cause him to immediately leap to his feet. Amarthaer wanted to toy with him first, and observe how he reacted to the simple things. Fear was an intoxicant, and she wanted to see just how his body and mind would respond. Those grains of sand that blew carelessly across the desert would seem to catch on a figure in his peripheral vision for no more than a few moments, and when he turned to look he would catch but a glimpse of a cloaked form that seemed to stand dangerously close and yet miles in the distance all at once before it disappeared from view altogether. That was but the beginning, a simple manipulation.

Regardless of how he reacted, the next illusion would be a touch longer lasting. A humanoid shape that would manifest from the darkness itself stood behind and slightly above him in the bridge of the ruined Star Destroyer, a supposed sign of life where there should have been none, though if he attempted any sort of communication it would remain strangely still and silent, as if unaware of its surroundings save for the lone Jedi. There was nothing to the figure that would hail to any particular species or build, nor would it speak if any certain allegiance. It would simply stand there, permanent and temporary all at once, a shadow of what could be and what once was.

It was entirely up to him how he chose to perceive what were no more than tricks of the mind, and she would make no move to prevent him from dispelling or otherwise attempt to inflict harm on what were just carefully imposed mirages. More than anything she wanted him to react, so that she might learn more of just who this strange man was.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Even here it seemed a rogue could get no peace.

His eyes flicked across the dunes to the side, before his head turned lazily, lolling over on one side looking at apparitions coming into his line of sight.

Either his head was playing tricks, or there were more manipulative forces at work.

He stared…and then turned away, rolling his fingers around. The next prickle up his spine once again made him lazily turn his head, and sit looking up the hull to the monolithic bridge of the Destroyer. With the perfect blue sky behind and hazy sun up above, he squinted at a figure – an image – standing looking down.

Not saying anything, not doing anything, Connor just looked back for a few moments.

This was nothing more than a vision in the mind’s eye. It didn’t alarm him, and he had seen many just like this brought on by effects of the climate, effects of the mind and simple distortion of the Force. And if it was trying to force his hand or scare him into cracking up, it wouldn’t work.

Turning back to his spot, Connor licked his lip slowly and continued to stare out. So be it, whatever was out there.

Let it come.

[member="Amarthaer Saptheth"]

 

[Amarthaer Saptheth]

Oh, he was a boring one. Nothing about him seemed alarmed, and even within the Force he was oddly calm, holding a sense of knowing that something more was at play. It annoyed her, more than anything. The ones that provided no fun at all were those she wished to be done with quickly, but she had never had the opportunity to encounter a Jedi before, and it would be foolish to waste this one. As frustrating as it may have been to watch him remain impassive and stoic, she held a certain fascination with seeing just how far she could push individuals like him. To her pain and fear were curiosities, and she found a twisted interest in discovering how they afflicted the different beings of the galaxy.

There would be no more illusions to greet him, no further tricks of the mind to make him question if everything he knew was real. As much as she favored her smoke and mirrors, Amarthaer knew full well a lost cause when she saw one. It would be nonsensical to keep wasting her time with tricks of the mind, and she was anything if not efficient. If the apparitions weren't his cup of tea, then perhaps something a bit more tangible would do. This would be no attack on his physical form in earnest just yet, but it was certainly something more real than imaginary figures in the sand or shadows looming in the husks of dead ships. It was something altogether simple, a feeling that most Jedi knew as foreign to themselves.

Dread. An absolute, all-encompassing and soul-crushing hopelessness leeched outwards, seeming to press in on him from all directions at once. It was the sort that left a pit in one's stomach and an indescribable weight on one's chest, almost as if quashing the desire to draw breath altogether. It wasn't something that would cease anytime soon, instead only growing more overwhelming, the walls pressing in on all sides. The feeling harbored a desire to escape while at the same time making such a thing seem impossible, compelling one to run and causing their limbs to feel weighted down all at once. All of this, with nothing more than a look and a strangely intent focus on his form.

Just when it seemed to relent, four words were forced into his mind, the corruption lacing them sinister in its toxicity,

I̷̷̥ ͔̪̼͈̱̬͙̭s̴͖̞e͚͓͖̻̘͘è͇ ͕̙y̼o̮͔͍̘̖͚͇̩̰͢u̸͖͓̗͍̠͘,̷͔̣̤͖̭́͟ ͘҉̭̲̥͞J͈e̦̻̰͔͓̤d҉͔͖̯̝͔̘̠͟i̶͎͓̜͇ͅ.̻ͅ


[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

With the heat of the planet gently cooking him from above, there began a feeling of intense pressure inside him again swelling from some unknown force that he wasn’t controlling. Rubbing his hand on his chest, he lowered his head and shook it in frustration.

Not again…why now? Why did he attract those thinking he could be pushed around?

As the walls closed in and his frustration soared, a mix of raging adrenalin and claustrophobia, Connor pushed up from where he was sat and in a second he was stood, and started to push outwards to those walls. Sucking in from the darkness that was creeping into his head, he pushed as if his limbs were iron and metaphorically rebuffing them away.

The teasing words came to his head, and they made him frown and latch onto the aura, speaking to the voice.

"I see you," he hissed.

With that, he turned sideways and raised his right hand, looking up at the half destroyed shield generator atop the bridge of the Destroyer, high at the far end. Focusing on it and using the fever inside him as a strange fuel, he crippled the fragile metals holding the orb atop the Destroyer, and it didn’t take long for it to drop down, and start to roll off the bridge, falling for what looked like forever before slamming into the hull and, manipulated by Connor, rolled and rolled towards the edge where it would career off and down into the wreckage and sand dune below where he was sure the voice was coming from.

[member="Amarthaer Saptheth"]

 

[Amarthaer Saptheth]

Anyone else would have likely found themselves moving out of the way just as soon as they heard the durasteel creaking and breaking with a metallic shriek, but instead Amarthaer remained standing in the same place for a few moments longer than what was advisable, seemingly overcome with an overwhelming intrigue at his willingness to end life as a supposed Jedi. He was certainly a curious one, and had she not been sent to end his life she would have perhaps liked to learn more about just who he was. As it stood, however, it was a wiser decision to simply move out of the way of his attack, and so she did, sand careening in a wave behind her from the impact of the shield generator crashing to the ground.

Like clockwork she cast an illusion of her own presence just behind him, though it was one that only lasted for a brief few seconds, intended to distract rather than persist. If the goddess was kind it would grant her enough time to step forth from the depths of the shadows unseen, revealing her features in the dappled sunlight, the beginnings of warmth growing beneath her feet and across her blackened, corrupted skin. A visible dark, smoky aura lingered about her form, the sensation upon even just a slight brush with it an unnatural cold. Even without her conscious effort an uneasiness clung to her, lending an unexplainable peculiarity for someone of her apparent young age and relative skill level.

Eyes reminiscent of a burning fire looked directly up at him, seeming to lock with his own despite the distance between them. Once again another illusion would manifest, this one a touch more physical in nature. Flames would begin to lick up his arms and legs, mere sparks at first before igniting into a fierce conflagration across his entire form. But it wasn't just the sight of the fire that would be projected. No, the pain would be as well, and just as soon as that inferno touched on his skin he would begin feeling as if he was burning alive. Should he look down across his form there would be nothing to suggest this wasn't a pervading reality, only ceasing if he proved himself strong enough psychologically.

[member="Connor Harrison"]

 

[Connor Harrison]

Watching the mighty generator roll and crash down sending whips of sand flowering up and over over the hull, Connor nodded to himself. It was then he saw it – out of the corner of his eye.

He span – nothing there.

His heart started to beat a little faster.

Another dark figure appeared to his right, stark contrast to the warm orange behind it. The frame was small, petite. A young girl dressed in what looked like rags? Connor stepped forward, squinting a little. Was this a mirage? Had he been here so long he was now seeing things? Hearing things? Was it now the pressure of everything started to take its toll.

The heat started to become uncomfortable, and only when he glanced down did he double take – flame were starting to crawl across his hands and to his arms. He stepped back, kicking out, and went to bat the flame, but they were all consuming.

Gasps of panic and disbelief fell from him, as he fell to his knee, the pain crippling as it seared his skin and melted his clothing.

He let out a cry of pain and strove to not collapse – NO! FIGHT IT!

Glaring out, he struggled more than anything to ignore the pain, to look past the pain; if it were real, he’d be dead, but he was still holding position on his bended knee, surrounded by fire. Connor cried out and turned it into a perverse cry of excitement.

"Teach me!” Connor called to the figure, and revelled how it would look were he really on fire, and what he could do with such power.

His eyes closed and he pictured Corvus Raaf and her smile. That was the one thing that took him away from reality to ignore the pain inflicted upon the mind’s eye by whoever this thing was.

[member="Amarthaer Saptheth"]