Machinations

[Will Westender]

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Attn: [member="Hajrah Marjanah"]​

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True power is invisible and patient, like the wind.​

Plans within plans within plans. That's what keeps the galaxy turning.​

Life dances to the tune of those who know how to sing the secret song of subtle power.​

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• Socorro
  Outer Rim

No great parade of warships announced the arrival of the agent. Like all such stories have, since time immemorial, this tale began with an unassuming little freighter depositing its passenger upon an unassuming world on the fringes of the galaxy, before going about its business of loading and unloading goods.

There was no one to welcome the agent at the starport. No old friend, or employer waited for him, no lover to embrace him, not a soul to give him so much as a fleeting glance. Such things only ever happened in holodramas, while reality... was much duller.

Neither did he stop to exchange greetings and pointless pleasantries, or to deliver witty lines that catch the eye of the ladies. The agent had his mission, his destination and his plan. That was the sole focus of his attention. A few credits exchanged hands and a speeder was quickly hired, a rickety old thing that shook and rumbled as it streaked across the dunes, delivering the agent to the gates of the local temple and then departing with a sputtering cough, like an old man complaining about aching joints.

The agent's attire was unusual enough to stand out amongst the plain robes of the temple's inhabitants. A long, crimson trench coat with gold highlights, a bit old and faded here and there. Knee-high leather boots and riding pants and an embroidered white shirt in an upper-class cut that was fashionable in some circles of high society around the galaxy.

Shoulder-length brown hair was worn pulled back, bound by a bit of cloth, revealing a young, but weathered face which was starting to become rough around the edges, features hardened by the realities of an uncaring galaxy. Sharp eyes scanned the crowd, looking for the face he had seen in the briefing. He was here because somewhere, a hidden chain of events was unfolding. The plots of his masters had led them to conclude that a certain Jedi who existed in one of their files, would provide the perfect cover for one of their agents as he worked to dismantle the secret society's latest target.

Now, he just had to attract her attention, somehow. Subtly persuade her to take him on as her apprentice, without her becoming suspicious of his true intentions. So, the agent stepped forward into the temple, coming to a halt in front of one of the temple's murals, eyes focused on the imagery depicted. He stuck out like a sore thumb, standing there, wearing his unusual attire, which was exactly what he wanted. There was no better way to attract such a quarry as the one he sought, than by simply being out of place.

 

[Hajrah Marjanah]

Conscience, ​

Particularly the Jedi Conscience, ​

Is a Powerful, Unforgiving Force. ​

Even Self Destructive.​

- Benoni Ulte -​

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Uhl Doaba'J was a somewhat small and secluded place on the outskirts of the city of Vakeyya. From here there only was only the vast and unforgiving expanse of Socorro's black deserts, an ever changing landscape divided by the ancient native tribes. From here, it was suggested you find your guide and have your journey blessed by the Ibhaan'l shamen who managed this humble shrine to the planets history and culture. Past this point technology and modern civilization ceased to exit as if you had been transported to an age of antiquity. Beyond the time even of the 400 year Darkness.

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It was here that Hajrah Marjanah had reunited with not just her ancestral home, but her people and her heritage. For the Jedi, Uhl Doaba'J was a place of rebirth in every kind of way and true to it's translation, Hajrah had found peace and solace here. A much needed comfort after the events of Sabarene some time ago.

Much of her time was spent here, part to soak up all the knowledge she could of her home and part in wait as an old and ancient Jedi temple finished it's construction. Hajrah had come to know each and every face that visited the shrine and while not uncommon, new ones were still easily recognizable. William though, his was more than just an irregular appearance of the superstitious spacefarer.

She felt it, before he had even arrived, she felt it. A familiar shift in the force, an aura new to her senses and not just present in the force but beckoning it seemed. It didn't call out in general, it called for someone specific and the closer William got the more clear it's call became. She felt it...it called for her.

Hajrah, uneased by this but curious still, approached with caution. Head and body where largely covered by the fabric of a sky blue hood and robe, her face all to be seen.

"Have you come for a blessing? An osma bag?"


[member="William Westender"]

 

[Will Westender]

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Equipment: KC-77N Hybrid Pistol | Lightsaber (Secret)​

Attn: [member="Hajrah Marjanah"]​

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• Socorro
  Outer Rim

William turned suddenly, snapped out of the thoughts he had lost himself in by the woman's voice. "I... No..." he stumbled, as if at a loss for words. "I don't really know," he finally said, after a few brief moments of silence. "I heard there was a Temple nearby and I sought a place to meditate."

The Force churned around him, a small battle between Light and Dark unfolding. There was some kind of internal conflict in the man's soul. "I... used to be a Padawan of the Silver Jedi Order, not long ago. I left to pursue a band of slavers when they did not have the resources to send a Jedi Knight after them. They camped out somewhere on this planet, though that was days ago and I have since lost their track," he said.

A clever lie, built upon a truth. There was indeed a band of slavers currently present on Socorro, though that was not why he was here. "I guess I thought someone here could help me," said William. A truth. He was here because he sought someone to help him, though he had ulterior motives for doing so.

"I don't really know what I was thinking. Perhaps I'm an idiot, looking to get himself killed by pursuing a band of slavers, armed with nothing but a pistol. I don't even have my lightsaber, yet," the stranger said another small, technical lie of omission. He had his Shroudsaber, built by himself during his Initiation period as a Warden. But he did not have a Jedi lightsaber, so that part was technically true.

"I can't just... sit by and do nothing, while slavers tear more families apart," he said. This part was true. He would not let a band of slavers ply their foul trade. This much both he and his true master, hated. "Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. I am Baron William Westender, of Ession, although my home is overrun by the Sith, these days."

 

[Hajrah Marjanah]

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EQUIPMENT: Standard Lightsabers x2​

Attn: [member="William Westender"]​

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Vakeyya, Socorro
Outer Rim

Hajrah had all the empathic capabilities of a Jedi, the force always pecking at her subconscience, and felt the turmoil emanating from William. It was never a good thing for light and dark to be at odds but his admissions gave reason enough to consider the struggle a result of inexperience. An issue easily rectified with time and if William was to see that time a more pressing issue needed addressed.

A single finger pressed against Hajrah's lips invocating silence and was matched with a weighty gaze from beneath her hood. No spoken word uttered, but instead she touched his mind with hers...

You are hunting nothing. You carry no weapon and if asked you are my padawan.

Simultaneous with her instruction, the Socorran had already began to lead them out of the pagoda and into the heat of Vakeyya's streets.

Her's was a peculiar world. With no formal goverment, the people of Socorro where bound to unwritten laws and traditions. Key among them was the observance of aa'kua, respect of an individuals personal space. To be found slaving here was certain death and to be discovered a bounty hunter...you would wish for certain death.

Remaining quiet, the two had made some distant from any prying ears before Hajrah finally spoke.

"Misguided. Yes. Idiot. No." she assessed giving thought to William's self degredation. Her voice, heavily accented sounded again, "You should be on your world fighting sith. We take care of our own here."

"I am Hajrah Marjanah" It was all the introduction she was willing to give for the moment.