Moonshine Man

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

THE PLANET
K E S H
TERMINUS OF THE RIMMA TRADE ROUTE

Kesh was a world past the boundaries of what most would consider the frontier.

Located far south of the planet Elrood, and ruled by the mysterious [member="Solan Charr"], the remote world was at least a month's journey from the nearest inhabited rock. And the only road from Kesh led to Kal'Shebbol, an unknown destination that was itself the gateway to a whole new frontier in space -- the Kathol Outback.

This was Wild Space at its finest. Star charts were incomplete, or contradictory, and many of the worlds talked of in these parts were names of places that didn't exist in any library database. To some, it was a mystery waiting to be solved. Or a map waiting to charted. Or a place to disappear.

To others, it was all of the above.

Near the star port, smack in the midst of the aptly named Ragnos slums, was the Star Runner Cantina. It was the kind of local dive that gave local dives a bad name. Guy Fieri definitely wasn't going to turn up here, but the caf was always hot. And, in this part of town, that was a marketable commodity.

After what had happened on Castameer, and then the disastrous altercation in the Stygian Caldera, the youngling knight had headed back to the Galactic South. In part because he worried he'd already been away too long. If pirates weren't enough of a problem, the Pimbrellan League and the Qektoth were each taking turns whittling away at the telecommunications infrastructure that the boy had been working at installing throughout the region. He'd get one sector up on the HoloNet, and another would go dark. It was a constant struggle to try and maintain subspace communications for the TKO Search and Rescue teams that were out there, particularly those in the vast expanse of the Marcol Void.

But, it was also to check in with the Underground. The Kathol Outback marked a unique neutral ground where people of different backgrounds met and interacted. It allowed him an opportunity to talk with people like [member="Alec Rekali"] of Clan Rekali in spite of the current tensions between the Mandalorians and the Jedi. Or even Jedi of different sects, such as [member="Julius Sedaire"]... as Aing Tii crazed as that nerf herder may have been...

In this part of space, you couldn't necessarily be choosy about who your allies were. Which, might just be about the only factor weighing in the Silver Jedi's favor at present.

But, he couldn't get back to the Underground's base of operations in the Kathol Outback without traveling down the Rimma Trade Route. He's almost stopped at Sullust, but passed it in favor of Eriadu instead. Less attention, and he didn't feel like answering whatever questions the New Jedi Order might have had. He'd leave diplomacy with the Galactic Alliance to the members of the Silver Council.

From Eriadu, it had been Elrood. And then Kesh.

His next stop was going to be Kal'Shebbol, but he was here at least overnight while the Queen was being refueled. Contacts in the Runners and the Underground had told him about this cantina. Which, if it was good enough for [member="Bryce Bantam"] to have a beer in... then it was good enough for the youngling knight.

...let's just hope Bryce has better taste in beer than he does in women.

The small Jedi had a stool up at the bar, and a cold root beer that was served in a hot mug straight from the dishwasher. By the time he could comfortably hold the mug, his refreshing root beer was depressingly lukewarm and rapidly going flat. There was probably a metaphor in there about his Jedi career.

[member="Kei Garnik"]​

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Kesh - 849ABY
Star Runner Cantina

​

​

He couldn't get the images out of his mind. Every single time he closed his eyes the images haunted him, every single time he blinked he heard the noise of the bombs hitting. Every single time he tried to rest, the screams brought him back to reality. People say what happens on Korriban stays on Korriban, much like what happens on Hoth stays on Hoth, but when you see an entire city wiped out, you can't have that stay in one place, it just doesn't work. You can never get those screams from your head, the images of the dead lying at your feet.

He never had time to process it, instead a Sith preoccupying his time. Since he'd gotten away from Korriban for good he'd finally processed what he'd seen, and he hadn't slept since. It'd been about a month since the events of Korriban had taken place, a month of sleepless nights and pain every time he blinked. Kei was aware he probably looked like death, he probably smelt worse, why else would he come to the lowest of the low.

He'd learned about the Cantina from an old friend, someone that had been smuggled half way across the galaxy to get a McYoda's, he wished he was kidding. The Catina itself was shady, a place people went when they looked like death and mostly wanted to be left alone. Kei had abandoned everyone close to him, he was aware he had a [member="Noriko Ike"] to return to and a job to do for [member="Lady Kay"] but he didn't want to move. He wanted the entire planet to open up and swallow him, remove him from existence because the galaxy would function so much better without him.

Or at least he felt like that.

He sat in the corner of a booth, legs up on the table, half way through his forth bottle of Correlian Ale since he'd arrived only an hour or so prior. He hadn't bothered to change, he was still in his robes after the battle of Korriban, the phrik chestplate and Cortoris bracers obvious on display, but he didn't care. He hadn't bothered to fix the Ebon Hawk for a change, he didn't care. He always focused on the Hawk, so clearly something was up.

He just wanted to sit in the booth and cry, but crying round these parts was easily enough to earn you a beating or two. He wanted the images of Korriban City to vanish from his mind, but why would they ever do that? They'd continue to punish him because he deserved it, didn't he? He'd failed to save every single person in that city, he hadn't saved anyone in that city, surely that made him the bad guy.

Right?

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

The HoloLink on his arm gave a trilling sound.

It was a message from the Silver Jedi Order. [member="Coci Heavenshield"] was calling an assembly on Voss. Most likely to discuss what had happened at Korriban. Because that's what Jedi did, right? Sit around and talk.

The boy had provided the Silver Jedi with the recordings taken from the Nadesico's hyperspace probes around Korriban. And, as far as he was concerned, those recordings said all there was to be said on the matter. He'd told [member="Aisha Marc"] to head back to Oswaft Station, and [member="Marque"] to take the next meeting of the board of directors for him. He was headed back to the Outback.

At least in the Outback, he knew understood who the good guys were. In the Core Worlds..? He wasn't so certain anymore.

And it seemed as though he might not be the only one.

Behind him, in one of the booths along the wall, there was a man wearing robes and armor that suggested he'd seen his own share of conflict. The young Anzat had lost count of the number of times he'd seen a forlorn look like that on the faces of Jedi -- padawans and knights both. Especially during the Clone Wars. Turning his attention back toward the bar, the youngling knight summoned the bar keep with gesture. "Send that man a shot of Corellian whisky."

The bar keep gave a gruff laugh at the order. "If I had any Corellian whisky, I'd be working in a different part of town," the man uttered is a rasping voice.

"Well, what do you have?" This was a cantina, right? And cantinas stocked liquor, right? Surely there was something they could salvage out of this.

The man went rummaging through the bottles that lined the back of the bar. The dust rising as he did so suggested that it had been awhile since anyone had ordered something that wasn't on tap. "...eh... a bottle of Cthon Royal," the bar keep supplied finally, uncorking the bottle and bringing it up to his nose.

...the way in which he jerked his head back from the smell was slightly less than reassuring. "I think it's still good."

"Cthon Royal?" the boy echoed. Right, because nothing inspired confidence when drinking like Troglydites from the Coruscant Underworld. He wanted to drink a whisky named after that!

Then again, this was the arse-end of the greater cosmos. And, more specifically, a slum in the arse-end of the greater cosmos. Beggers couldn't be choosers. "All right, send that over."

The man plunked the shot glass down on the bar top. "You can send it yourself," the man uttered flatly, before walking away to other customers.

It was so hard to find good help these days...

Picking up the shot, the youngling hopped down from the bar stool and started across the cantina. He didn't bother bringing his own beverage, he hadn't been drinking it anyway. "Here," the tow-headed boy supplied, setting the shot down on the table in front of the man in the armored robes. Sliding the shot over toward him, the youngling added, "You may find this a little more effective."

Effective at what exactly remained to be seen.

"...also potentially hazardous to your health." It was probably for the best to get that disclaimer out there now. And perhaps also find directions to the nearest MedCenter.

[member="Kei Garnik"]​

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

He hadn't noticed the young child when he had entered, he hadn't seen much when he'd entered. When he entered he was focused on one thing, drinking the images in his mind away, trying to force himself to forget. He hadn't focused on what was exactly in the cantina at the time, only focused on getting his ale and getting into the booth furthest away from people. People meant talking, and he really didn't want to talk right now. What he'd seen was his own burden, and he knew his voice would give away that he had a problem. Of course people would question, write him down as mad and reccomend the closest mental institute to them.

He wasn't insane.

He wasn't insane, he was shocked. He was shocked and all that death hurt. Watching all those innocent people die hurt. He was shocked and the shock caused him to run south, run where no-one else in the galaxy knew him and would find him. He didn't want to be found, he wanted to hide from it all and pretend that nothing had ever happened. Maybe in time he could forget, go back to the only thing he was ever any good at. He was a smuggler, being a Jedi was just a fantasy in his brain, nothing more. He wasn't a great force user, he was just a fantasy Jedi. The only thing he was good at was smuggling, shipping items no-one else would.

He eyed the kid, downing the shot at once, almost glad for the disclaimer because it made him smile. It'd been at least a month since he'd last smiled, since his facial muscles had even began to smile. The question was constantly playing on his mind though, alright two questions. Who was he and why did he buy him a shot? Why did a random kid buy a dude he'd never met a shot? Actually saying that why was a random kid in a Cantina at all?

"Ain' you a little young to drink?"

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

"Ain' you a little young to drink?"

At the implied invitation, the young Anzat took a seat across from the robed man in the boot. "Young and old are terms that depend greatly on one's own point of view," the youngling knight noted. An off-the-cuff response, one so common that it may well have seemed well practiced.

From the human perspective, sixty-nine years was a lifetime for some. From the Anzat perspective, a mere pittance that did not yet amount to adolescence. Creatures which subsisted a span of centuries, or even thousands, of years necessitated a prolonged pause between generations. The slow, gradual childhood ensured a break of several centuries between generations of Anzats. Otherwise, the population of their planet would be out of control.

"Though, I do prefer a cool glass of kool-aid myself," the boy admitted. He wasn't shy about being a youngling. He was just more experienced at being a youngling than most.

[member="Kei Garnik"]​

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

Kei felt old. It'd been way too long since he'd drunk any form of kool-aid. He wanted to be young again, free from responsibility and stress, free from the images of the Korriban bombings. He frowned, must think happy. He needed to stop thinking about Korriban, think about happy things. Think about the fact a random stranger, a kid, just brought him a shot and decided to say something really clever, anything but Korriban.

He sipped his ale again slowly, watching the youngling with interest. There was clearly something different about him, in the rough neighbourhoods of Keth, no-one really brought anyone anything, no-one really talked to anyone if they could help it. People liked being left alone to get on with their business, people didn't like being interupted in their daily lives. Lucky for the kid, Kei was different, he didn't mind interaction.

"What brings you over here?"

He asked the question slowly, shrugging.

"If you're after transport, I ain't your guy, not anymore. I'm quite content in this corner"

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

"If you're after transport, I ain't your guy, not anymore. I'm quite content in this corner."

That brought a slight, enigmatic smile to the boy's face. "Well, should you change your mind, I have some of the fastest ships in this sector," the youngling knight offered. It wasn't a boastful statement, just matter-of-fact. Oh, sure, there were ships that were faster -- such as [member="Kira Vaal"]'s Millennium Falcon -- but the Alderaan Queen could make point-seven past lightspeed. And the Intervention could top that.

As for what had brought him over to the booth...

"As I said," the child began, indicating the shot of liquor on the table. "...that would be a quicker means to what appears to be your chosen past time."

Ale was a rather watered down beverage. Usually with a lower alcohol content by volume. And the body mass of a human male was such that it took a couple of ales to actually inhibit the senses. As further alcohol was consumed, the body would begin processing the alcohol out as waste, at a rate of about one drink per hour. That being the case, unless he started slamming down the ale hard, he'd be here awhile trying to get intoxicated off the ale alone.

"The question is... why does someone come to Kesh just to drink?" the youngling inquired curiously. Not in an accusatory manner, more of a rhetorical question if anything. "There are bars on Zeltros, Denon, or even Druckenwell that would have a better selection, better environment, and better prices."

It cost a pretty credit to ship Corellian ale this far afield from the Corellian Trade Spine. For what he'd likely paid for those four bottles in front of him, he could have had a twelve or twenty-four pack elsewhere.

[member="Kei Garnik"]​

 

[Z'Zharen]

The automatic door to the Star Runner cantina, slowly slid open when a tall figure waited for it to finish opening. The door stopped a third of the way, the figure grunted in annoyance. He was too large to even slide in sideways nor would he if he could. Instead he grabbed the flat metal frame of the door with his large three fingered hand. His claws pinched the metal making a slight tension noise as he barley gripped the frame. With another grunt, he forcibly slammed the sliding door into it's wall compartment. This time making a loud enough noise to be heard throughout the establishment.

Bowing his head, the 6'6 ft figure entered the dreary looking cantina. The dim lighting was barely enough to reveal what species he was, but his elongated face and jutting tusks informed everyone that a Whipid had just walked in. The Whipid wore a torn, sleeveless duster jacket. It was a faded brown duster, and attached was a hood that the Whipid wore covering his heavy bagged eyes.

Other than the hooded duster, he did not carry too much with him, except for ripped up loose brown trousers and a leather sheath strapped across his back. In the sheath was an electrostaff, there was no mention of not bringing weapons into this cantina, so the Whipid pressed on forward to the bar counter. The door behind him started to squeak as it tried to close, but halted again a third of the way.

The bartender did not seem to bothered by the faulty door and went to grab a bottle of ale for the new patron. The Whipid grunted and said in a gruff voice, "Just water, please."

The bartender raised a brow, but complied. Seeing the fellow was as big as a Wookiee he handed the Whipid a full pitcher of water. The large alien inspected the pitcher, it seemed clean enough. The pitcher fitted in his giant hand as if it was a normal serving cup for a human. He sipped the water, though he was tempted to guzzle it down. He sat the pitcher back on the counter and asked, "Music?"

The bartender squinted at the absurd question, clearly there was no band here not even a holo one. "You're the second person today to confuse this place as some sorta uptown bar. This is all I got." The man reached under the counter and a slid a dirty datapad over to the Whipid. There wasnt much of a selection, but the Whipid needed something to help distract his private dark thoughts. He selected the first option in the playlist, the audio was decent enough. Not overbearing, but enough that any of the patrons would hear as any typical music played in a cantina.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFDPhYdbxc0

The Whipid closed his sleep deprived eyes and tried to connect with the music, maybe it could help him remember how to meditate. He had trouble doing so in silence. His journey throughout the Outer Rim in search of learning the ways of Force had opened up pessimistic and dangerous thoughts to himself. For a brief moment he thought he 'sensed' something in the cantina. But he doubted his abilities once more and grunted at himself. He squeezed the pitcher in frustration. "Dont you break it!" The bar tender pointed and yelled in warning, which brought the Whipid back to reality. He stared annoyed at the man, but obliged in releasing the pitcher before otherwise shattering it.

He came to this world out of uncertainty. Months ago he was eager to discover the Force and a pair of 'silver' Jedi had helped unlock his potential. But they were whisked away to more important issues. Left alone, untrained and uncertain of how to proceed with his new sense of power, the Whipid merely wandered with a dwindling hope that he could find something or someone to inspire him again. Other than the pair who helped him, hes only encountered jaded beings or ones too close to the dark side. The Whipid sighed and took another sip of water that nearly emptied the pitcher.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] [member="Kei Garnik"]

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

"Why does someone come to Kesh just to drink?"

Kei shrugged lightly. No-one knew him on Kesh, it was somewhere quiet that he could just hide, be alone without being found by people who knew him. He didn't want to be known, not anymore, he very much wanted to hide away where people couldn't bug him. He crossed his arms slowly, eyes dancing around the Cantina as he sipped his ale again before he finally focused back on the kid. He was inquisitve, he seemed to want to know more. There was nothing wrong with that, not really, he deserved to know more if he wanted to know more. Knowing more was how the human race progressed, how all species progressed to be fair.

"It gets me away from Korriban"

He wasn't lying, he just didn't need to go into more detail. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bottle hard, the events of Korriban still playing over and over like they had been for weeks and weeks on end. He wanted them to stop, he wanted them to leave him alone. Korriban was a senseless act, stupid and dangerous and something he hadn't had chance to process until well after the event. The Sith Lord who wanted him dead took his focus in other directions.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

@Z'Zharen​

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

"It gets me away from Korriban"

Korriban.

The drop of that name gave the young Anzat pause, not the least of which was due to the robes that the man was wearing. And, yet, the boy was positive that this wasn't a man that he'd seen around the Silver Temple on Voss. Or the Jedi Temple on Ossus. Or even Lothal, for that matter. The youngling knight had been an instructor at the Jedi Academy on Yavin 4, so he knew many of the Jedi of this new generation -- across a spectrum of sects, orders, and conclaves -- but this man across from him was utterly unfamiliar to him.

The plight that he seemed to be expressing was not so unfamiliar however.

Music began playing inside the cantina. The tow headed boy looked away for a moment, spotting the bartender exchanging works with a Whipid who'd come in and taken a seat at the bar.

Turning back toward the figure across from him, the boy quietly noted, "Moving away from Korriban is simple. You just pick a direction and go." Which seemed a part he already knew. Hence, the man had arrived on Kesh even before Sor-Jan had. That hinted that whatever transport he had access to was a fast ship in its own right.

"Moving past Korriban... now that's a feat that takes some doing."

[member="Kei Garnik"] | [member="Z'Zharen"]​

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

"You know what happened on Korriban? Or is it the media representation that you know"

People always stated that everything happened for a reason, people would state that all those who had died inthe Korriban incident died for a reason, though what that reason was, Kei was unsure. The media had left out so many details of the Korriban incident, they hadn't stated that it was the good guys who'd dropped the bombs, the main headlines were the Omega battle, though again there was little detail involved. The media liked playing things up, it was why people paid attention to it. The media didn't report on every meeting cause that would just be boring, but they'd report on the meat, the juicy details of fighting and blood.

And bombs.

Kei stared at the youngling slowly, shaking his head.

"Moving past the genocide is the hard part, especially when you're there to witness the bombs being dropped, close enough to hear the innocents crying, crying out because they'd lost loved ones, family members, siblings. Close enough to feel their pain. No, that's the hard part, when innocents are being slaughtered"

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

@Z'Zharen​

 

[Z'Zharen]

Z'Zharen finished off the remains of his water pitcher, the bartender slid him a new one. The Whipid grunted and gave a slight nod towards the man, thanking him. The music was not really helping him find peace, it seemed like a long shot though. If he could not find peace in seclusion, what made him think he could find it in a noisy atmosphere of a bar. The galaxy has felt...has felt negative or more so than usual ever since his connection to the Force was opened.

He took another sip of water, which for a Whipid meant chugging it down. He wiped the wetness on his mouth with a hairy wrist. He had traveled to many proclaimed Force imbued worlds, hoping to get a better understanding of the mystical energy source. His brief trips to Lothal and Dantooiene, only showed him dark side users with obsessions over lightsaber crystals or petty fights for superiority. The common folk he has met while living on Nar Shadda, and also the shady ones as well told him that True Jedi, no longer existed. They were divided into factions between the Republic supporters and these Silver Jedi.

The young Whipid did not want to believe that the Jedi were now conquerors and self serving. Thankfully his encounter with Joza and Master Dune on Illum had showed him the legacy of the old Jedi Order survived in someways through them. They claimed to be part of the Silver Jedi and encouraged Z'Zharen to go to Voss and recieve training. The young Whipid had planned to head there after Joza helped him secure a lightsaber crystal of his own, but instead he ended up ship wrecked on an unknown planet for months. With no contact with civilized beings until a group of travelers stumbled upon him. In that time of seclusion, the Whipid had felt more lost than ever before.

He did not feel ready to go to Voss, his instinctive nature compelled him to wander a bit more. He had briefly encountered a small group of Force users, at least one from the Silver faction on Geonosis before making his way here to Kesh. A young woman with the personality of a droid, but intellect of a super computer did not offer much insight into her faction. The most experienced Force user, Z'Zharen had encountered on Geonosis was offering to teach young wanderers what he knew. Disappointed, the man only had illusionist tricks to show the group. Disheartened and frustrated by a poor experiences, the young Whipid had unintentionally brushed the Dark Side. He had summoned lightning, a small voltage, but still enough to be visible and enough to give him a craving for more.

This mindset was not right for a Jedi, Z'Zharen admitted to himself he truly afraid to go to Voss that he would fail and fall further into doubt and darkness. If he could over come this on his own, then maybe he would be a worthy candidate for the Silver Jedi...

As the young Whipid dwelled on his past and fear of a dark future, he over heard a conversation in the back. A young man was talking to a child, they were speaking of Korriban. From public gossip, Korriban was being discussed, but the truth had yet to be said. Z'Zharen had thoughts of going there, for historical studies, but his fear kept him at bay. Was this his future? Too afraid to be a Jedi and too afraid to fall to the dark...what would that make him?

He sighed at his self loathing, it angered him. It almost subsided though when he heard the young man in the back mention his eye witness account of Korriban and it's apparent genocide. That was alarming, he heard of attacks and skirmishes on the Sith world, but nothing as drastic as that. The child seemed to imply the man could travel away from the planet, but over coming the terrors would be something different. Zhar wondered...if this man had been on the ancient Sith world...would he have knowledge of the Force? He doubted a Sith Lord would squat in a common bar, perhaps this young man was a Jedi or the very least a failed Sith acolyte.

Zhar grabbed his water pitcher in one hand and gave in to curiosity. He walked over to the pair of humanoids, standing tall and having to look down at them when he spoke. "I do not mean to interrupt, but I overheard you were at Korriban? I have only heard rumors of what happened, but may I be so bold to ask why you were there or the very least what truly happened?" Z'Zharen did not want to come off as hostile, he looked down at the child and gave him a friendly wave with his large hand. "Hello little one." He said before turning to face the young adult human, Zhar hoped he did not frighten the man's offspring.

[member="Kei Garnik"] [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

It was hard to hear the man's words and not get sucked the pain.

The man's... and the boy's.

Anzati were telepaths. It was the way in which their species hunted. Even as a child, not yet a full-fledged vampire, the youngling was highly empathic. He could hear the tone. He could envision the scene.

...only in his mind, it wasn't Korriban. It was Manaan, during the Stark Hyperspace War. Watching pirates cut down a Republic Judicial Force crew that was outgunned, outnumbered... and yet, fought to the last man regardless.

Or Yinchorr Prime, when the youngling had held the body of his own former master in his arms, and wept. And then gotten up, and led the Republic to victory at the Battle of the Line.

Or the Sentinel, his own flagship during the Clone Wars, when he'd been betrayed by his own soldiers. When he'd been forced to fight... to kill... his own brothers in arms.

Or Lothal, where the only allies he'd had left were bodies buried under the rubble of a Consular-class cruiser he'd led to its doom.

No, he hadn't been on Korriban. He'd viewed it from a distance. He'd viewed it as one viewed a holovid.

But that didn't mean he hadn't been there.

"Hello little one."

The child's mouth had fallen open to respond to the man, when he suddenly found himself looking up at a Whipid. The same Whipid who'd been playing the music of before. The stranger wasted no time in asking about the topic that the pair had been speaking of, and it was barely a glance over at the pain on the human man's face before the boy decided it might be best for him to answer.

"The Jedi trusted someone, and were betrayed," the youngling knight offered. It was a simple answer, but it was a rather simple situation. One ship. One order. One captain. One act, which un-did the act of a thousand Jedi before.

Who did it mattered not. It was done. The only question that mattered there was who was doing something about those injured? Those harmed?

What prompted it mattered not. It had happened. The only question that mattered there was what was being done to relieve the suffering?

Unfortunately, none of those questions had any easy answers. The Jedi were working in hand with the Sith to get supplies to the afflicted planet. Or, were talking about that anyway. Which was madness in itself. So, he left Korriban in the hands of the grandmasters.

Turning his attention back toward the human man, the boy finally answered the question. "I was there. I saw it from orbit."

In many ways, it was a story as old as time. The singular vulnerability of any organization that placed its trust in people. Flawed, fallible, corruptible people. It was not the first that the Jedi had been betrayed, nor would it be the last.

Yet, then as now, the Jedi were still here. And he felt that was due in large part to the fact that they had never ceased to be Jedi. To respond to such acts of cruelty with the Code of the Jedi.

Would it ever be perfect? No, and neither would any of they.

[member="Z'Zharen"] | [member="Kei Garnik"]​

 

[GhostOfProtocol]

The kid had seen it from orbit, that explained something. He didn't nearly die, he didn't end up praying, hoping that the bombs wouldn't hit him. He didn't crash because of the shock, the screams of all the innocents. He didn't witness children lying in the street, half dead. He didn't try and out talk a Sith. He didn't come within an inch of his life, he got to sit all cozy on his ship in orbit, he got to sit all nice and warm. He cracked his knuckles, facing the kid again, studying him.

Korriban, Omega, both had happened at roughly the same time, both had murdered so many innocents. The galaxy was splintering with no protection, the Republic had crumbled and turned to dust. There was no senate anymore, no-where for democracy. It was kill or be killed in the galaxy, what happened on Korriban, what happened with the Omega was nothing more than people killing to survive. The galaxy was splintering, it had no protection.

Other than the Jedi.

What Kei had witnessed hadn't diminished his goal, he would be a Jedi some day. He wouldn't order the execution of a city, but he would be a Jedi someday. The leader of an old age, democracy and negotiations, not all this war, not all this fighting. The galaxy deserved peace, there was always a superweapon attack every five or so years, the Netherworld incident had happened. So many people still missing in action after the Netherworld event, so many people probably dead.

"I was there. I nearly died"

He felt out in the force lightly, trying to use force sense to sense anyone around him, sense the kids feelings. In turn he opened himself up, force stealth falling around him, his own force signature on display.

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

[member="Z'Zharen"]​

 

[Z'Zharen]

The boy had turned to face Z'Zharen, his little jaw had dropped open. The Whipid squinted at this and thought to himself 'Oh...please don't cry.'

The young man seated at the booth did not respond to Z'Zharen's rather abrupt interruption of what was most likely a personal conversation. But the Whipid had few patience for pleasantries, when so much time could be saved by simply getting to the point. The boy did not cry however and had turned to the man, seeing his his lack of response had instead gave his own brief answer to the Whipid's questions.

The Jedi trusted one individual and one person caused such devastation? The child turned his attention back to the young man and said he saw Korriban from orbit....He saw it from a distance, from a view port? The child's simple answers were not surprising. Why was a human child even near Korriban to begin with? If hes a Jedi youngling or even a very early Padawan...that still seemed for no place any child should be near, Force sensitive or not.

Perhaps Z'Zharen was mistaken, this boy was not the man's offspring, but his apprentice? If this man was even a Jedi? The human man looked no older than Z'Zharen in standard galactic years, perhaps he too was in-experienced and still learning the limits of where to bring one's apprentice and when to leave them behind for safety. The man's body language suggested annoyance, possible hostility towards the child's innocent proclamations. This was very confusing, Z'Zharen felt like he walked into a human holo-drama.

The man finally responded, admitting he was there and he nearly died. This might take longer than he anticipated, the Whipid was too large to squeeze into the booth as felt he should sit down for this story. Though his reaction to sit was reversed sharply when he felt a slight touch coming from...the back of his head? No his mind? The last time he felt something like this was when Joza helped open his mind to the Force, he could sense her in that moment not just see her.

It was the Whipid's jaw who dropped a little this time, "Then you are a Jedi Knight." The Whipid turned behind him to grab a chair over, but the chair did not budge as it was bolted to the floor. Why would someone bolt a chair to an already grounded structure...The Whipid gave it no more of a second's thought, he first put his empty water pitcher down on the table and then he gripped the steel framed chair with both hands and heaved it from the floor, popping the bolts off from its cylinder base. "Hey!" The bartender yelled and stormed over.

The Whipid, still bright eyed that he just met another Jedi looked at the bartender and made a hefty grunt that sounded like a Whipid's form of a laugh. "You have a talent of noticing when your patron's need refills." He turned, grabbing the empty pitcher and handing it to the bartender. The bewildered man, looked at the pitcher, then at the unbolted metal chair and back at the Whipid. Lost for words he simply sighed and started back for the counter, accepting he had didnt have anything to back threaten a being who could something like that with sheer brute strength.

The Whipid turned around, dragging the chair closer to the table, it was strong enough to support his weight. "It has been a very long time, since I've encountered someone like you. I have recently been lost and out of touch with Galaxy. So much has happened and I seek to continue my own training. But...if you are a Jedi, what are you doing here? Should you not be on Korriban helping those in need?" Z'Zharen sat back in his chair, he hoped that did not come off as rude, it was merely him being curious.

[member="Kei Garnik"] [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

"Then you are a Jedi Knight."

The Whipid just laid it all on table.

To be honest, at this point, the young Anzat wasn't sure that was necessarily true. The Silver Jedi had for years worked alongside the Levantines, the majority of which hadn't been Jedi at all. In fact, that was how Sor-Jan had come to be a member of their Order. He'd worked with the Levantine Sanctum and been introduced to the Silver Jedi later. So, the fact that the man had been at Korriban and was wearing robes didn't necessarily mean that he was a Jedi Knight.

Still, it would be interesting to hear the man speak for himself. The Whipid made good points, valid each of them, and the boy would have been hard pressed to have made the point in any more eloquent or brief a manner.

For more than a thousand generations, the Jedi Knights had been the guardians of peace and justice. Which meant, they were constantly confronted by the realities of war. It was why the Dark Side of the Force had claimed so many of their Order. The harsh realities of their work put them face-to-face with many of their own demons. Loss, grief, attachment, despair, anxiety...

Fear led to anger. Anger led to hate. Hate led to suffering.

It was a tale as old as time. As old as he was, but Sor-Jan knew better than to try and convey that. These kinds of lessons, men had to learn for themselves. It was too easy to put up walls and isolate the mind behind the illusion of being alone.

So the boy sat back, and waited to see how the man would respond.

@Z'Zharen | [member="Kei Garnik"]​