Let Sleeping Dust Lie..

[Sovereign]

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<Encrypted Message Received>​

Scanning contents...​

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<Playback initiated>​

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Location: Unknown Planet: Anaxes​

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A hologram appeared as the pre-recorded message began playing, a tall hooded male wrapped in black robes appeared before the intended recipient, "Greetings, I am Sovereign and I have a very special task for you. Julian Solo, due to your recently acquired reputation and former training within the New Order's ranks I wish to extend a job offer to you, a bounty if you will."

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An image of Ekul Selah replaced the image of Sovereign, the elder Jedi appeared to be within his late fifties to earlier sixties evident from his grey hair and facial features. Rotating slowly to reveal the last known appearance of the man, Sovereign's image reappeared shortly afterward.

"Wanted Alive... Ekul Selah, last seen on Coruscant during the it's sacking at the hands of the One Sith. Records show no trace of him since then, the Jedi is to be retrieved and taken to Coruscant's Sith Temple. There will be a handsome reward for the capture of this man, payment will be given after he is brought to the temple for processing and containment. My personal frequency for holocalls will follow this message with details for drop off. It is imperative that he lives. I will say no more.. I look forward to hearing from you. Sovereign out."

[member="Julian Solo"] l [member="Ekul Selah"]​

 

[The Upright Man]

Trepidation. That was a choice word for what Julian Solo felt in this moment, overlooking the Coruscant Underworld Portal. Deep down in the dark depths below, a place where it was prudent to never travel alone. To make matters worse, after receiving the holomessage from the Sith, a patrolman who was taking him down clapped him on the shoulder, leaning in and conferring to him, "Just be careful down there. Those swoop gangs will take a shot at anybody. Even our Sith patrols have come under fire." Julian took an involuntary gulp of despair, but such was the life of a bounty hunter, and if it couldn't get any worse; his target was a Jedi.

Julian didn't hold any support to the One Sith cause, but neither did he with the Republic. He was a single being in a galaxy of centillions. He simply couldn't care less about political movements. He liked to put it into perspective sometimes. A centillion has one hundred groups of three zeroes more than a thousand. The highest conceivable number, and the population of the galaxy existed within that number. It was mind boggling, and incredibly hard to wrap ones head around, but looking over Coruscant, and into the portal below, he had a sense of understanding.

He shifted his weight and turned to look upon the grizzled face that met his. He said his name was Kizaar, or something along the lines. He wore a sluggish flight suit that was ill fit, and his black hair was greased back. His right eye was missing and replaced with a cybernetic one, he missed several teeth and the remaining ones were blackened and yellow. His smile was insidious, and somehow contagious. Julian let off a half-grin and led him into his BT-12 Thunderstrike.

The BT-12 was state of the art, the armor plating, heavy laser cannons and modular shield systems were the best available. The hull was also shaped to help deflect laser bolts in case of shield failure. It had lodgings for several troops and contained a command center, a briefing room, a very spacious cargo bay, a medical bay and an armory. There was also room for recreational activities. Though many of these features were unnecessary luxuries for Julian, and oft he opted to hire out the other rooms to those that needed to skip planet.

That thought reminded him, he scrounged around in his pocket and took out the credits. He was running low with just sixty-seven. He needed this job or he would have to sell his ship, and if things got worse; his blasters. Julian tossed a glance over his shoulder as they ascended into the ship, directly below the cockpit. Coming to the first intersection, leading right was down into the cargo hold, and they turned left - towards the command center that branched off to nigh every other room in the ship, and a staircase up into the cockpit.

Julian waved Kizaar into his seat, "You said you know how to fly one of these, I hope you're right, she can be tricky to learn." Solo left Kizaar to the controls and moved back into the bowels of the vessel, diverting into his cabin. He picked up the rest of his equipment, a pair of MT-14 Heavy Blaster Pistols and an Echani Mk2 Combat Shield. He stumbled and caught himself on a pipeline, the roar of the propulsion drives became deafening, and he knew that the ship was taking off, and into the Underworld.

The Underworld lay literal thousands of stories below the skyscraper pinnacles, Coruscant's urban canyon floors never saw the light of day. Due to its enclosure by larger buildings, air was trapped in the lower levels, creating a micro-climate of which there were at least three layers. Trapped moisture contributed to rainstorms and convective wind patterns within the canyon floors. A realm of artificial illumination, the lower levels of the galaxy's largest city were the only affordable areas for many of the planet's citizens.

Rumbling with machines that served the elite above, its streets haunted by exploiters and thugs, and its walls riddled with vermin, Coruscant's underworld toughened the strong and consumed the weak. The underlevels harbored a larger population than many entire star sectors, leaving millions beyond the protection of the world's security force. Local neighborhoods were at the mercy of hired thugs and extortionists. But the toughest faces sometimes belonged to vigilantes, who chose to defend the people on their own land from criminals.

[member="Ekul Selah"] | [member="Sovereign"]

 

[The Dark Man]

Ekul Selah of late had been having trouble thinking, and he was ravenous. He knew he should be doing or thinking about something, but all he could sort out of the kaleidoscope of his thoughts was food. Dropping to his knees, he picked up a wage of cheese left in the gutter and stuffed it in his mouth. A half-spilled bottle of corellian red lay nearby, and he washed the cheese down with it. The rich cheese and piquant red whine revived him, and he felt his mind clearing. He ripped a large piece of bread from a loaf that was found by the cheese, and chewed on it while trying to put his thoughts in order. More than anything he wanted to lie down and asleep, but as he chewed his food, a thought pushed through the crazy quilt of his impressions. Danger.

The old Jedi jumped to his feet, and his head swam. Steadying himself, he grabbed up some bread and the wine and set off down an alleyway. He pushed himself along, his worn boots scuffing as he tried to talk. After a few minutes he found his thinking improving and the exhaustion lifting. Muted sobbing came from a clump of garbage blocks. Pushing his way through, he found a Duros youngling in robes traditional to the Jedi order huddled behind the trash. Her balled fists pulled up into her stomach. Her eyes were wide with terror, and her robe was soiled and torn. She had been surviving down here, hiding from the Sith, as long as he; five months. He was impressed instantly that she had survived so long, but simultaneously horrified.

She became startled when Ekul stepped into view, she jumped to her feet and flew into his arms, burying her head in his chest. Great racking sobs shook her petite body as she clutched the fabric of his tunic. Standing with his arms still outstretched, wine and bread occupying his hands, Ekul was totally confused over what to do. He awkwardly placed his arm around the terrified girl and said, “It’s all right. You’re safe. I’ve found you.” A lie, but one she needed right now. He wasn’t searching for anyone. He had given up on hope some time ago. Shortly after the sacking, he had seen many Jedi hiding down here, but as days became weeks, weeks into months, he couldn’t quite recall the last time he saw a Jedi.

She hung on to him for a moment, then, when her tears subsided, she stepped away. Neon lights danced upon her eyes, and the lights of a speeder flashed overhead, briefly illuminating. She was perhaps thirteen, the age he had been when he first joined the order. With a sniffle she said, “I thought they had killed everyone and were coming back for me.” Ekul found this situation more perplexing than any he had ever known. Just when he had come through the most harrowing experience of his lengthy life, The Sacking of Coruscant, he was faced with one that sent his mind reeling with a different sort of confusion. Though from the way she had leapt into his arms, he knew, she had seen him before. But now was not the time for contemplation, there was still the unmistakable feeling that danger was approaching. He fell to a crouch beside her, taking her hand into his own, “I’ll take you from here, I know where some friends of mine are. We’ll go talk to them, and see what we can do to get back to the Order.”​

[member="Julian Solo"] [member="Sovereign"]

 

[The Upright Man]

Crrk!​

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The landing gear buckled under the weight of the BT-12, the ramp lowered. A loud groan came from the ship as metal scrapped against metal, and with a great thud, the ramp was down. "I'll see you on the flip side," Julian Solo said, clicking his fingers and pointing at Kizaar in the fashion of a finger-gun. It was dark down here, indescribably, but yet there was still light. It was an imbalanced ying and yang, for what light down here was that of artificial. To see the light of day this far down into the core of Coruscant was not only improbable, but likely a miracle. If not for the illuminating neon lights, the entire underworld here would be consumed in utter darkness. What a horrible place Julian had found himself in.

He took a courageous step forward into the unknown, and into the throng that crowded the spaceport. Splash! "Euk," he moaned as he glanced down, pulling his foot out of a puddle of what appeared to be Trandoshan urine. He rung his foot and continued on, uncertain and unsure of what to expect, but whatever it was, it wasn't good. He had no idea why a Jedi would live down here, and in the pit of his stomach he felt as though he had been fooled into believing his bounty was down here. If his informant was lying, Vraask would have more than a broken wrist. He gently brushed past the crowd, not wanting to force his way through lest he receive a blaster through his stomach. He decided the best place to start was a cantina.​

[member="Ekul Selah"] [member="Sovereign"]

 

[The Dark Man]

Ekul Selah was practically dragging himself around the streets by day, when he was alone. Now he had someone to carry, and he was struggling. The girl was exhausted, and Ekul would soon be in her state if they did not rest soon. He ducked into a recessed doorway. The entrance was locked, but a gesture of his hand, and an answering ripple in the Force, caused the door panel to slide back reluctantly, with a rasping screech. It jammed partway, but he gave it a solid, physical kick and the door opened the rest of the way.

Ekul trudged sluggishly through what had once been a spice den, by the looks of it. He could still smell the ghostly scent of glitterstim that had once clouded both the air and the occupants’ minds. He turned into a small coven, where the spice addicts would float in a soporific bliss, and gently placed the Duros girl down on the floor. Ekul had been staying off the grid, dealing with sustenance and shelter strictly from begging and dumpster jumping. But there were still wanted posters sticking around, and most people in the area could recognise the old kook.

If there was one thing keeping people back from reporting him to the Sith, it wasn't their hatred for their political movement. It was their fear of what Ekul could do. He was not malicious, and mean't only good, but not many understood the Jedi Order, and even fewer knew they were a real thing. The galaxy is immense, with only a few thousand Jedi and Sith, it was no surprise people thought they were myths and legends, and when one was dumpster hopping in your backyard while a plasma-sword dangled from their waist, you would become hesitant on reporting it in the event of what would happen to you if you did.


[member="Julian Solo"] [member=Sovereign]