Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private No Straight Answers



Location: Coruscant | Jedi Temple
Tags: Valery Noble Valery Noble

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The Jedi Archives were quiet. Too quiet.

The steady hum of holo-displays, the faint rustle of fabric as Jedi scholars moved between the towering shelves—hell, even the droids assisting in cataloging had the decency to work in silence. If there was a place in the galaxy where boredom could manifest into a living thing, it was here. And yet, here he was. Sifting through centuries of Jedi wisdom, trying to piece together what to expect on Ilum—a planet he had never set foot on, but one his Padawan would soon be journeying to.

A soft blue light bathed his face as the holo-display flickered to life, projecting maps of Ilum's frozen surface. The terrain was harsh—endless snow-blasted plains, jagged mountains of ice, and a network of crystalline caverns beneath the surface that had swallowed generations of Jedi whole. Extreme cold. Treacherous terrain. The cave system itself… shifting? Gil squinted. "Oh, great. An ancient, mystical, Force-powered death maze. Fantastic."

He leaned forward, arms resting on the table as he scrolled through first-hand accounts from Jedi who had undergone the Gathering, the rite of passage where young Jedi retrieved their Kyber crystals. The writings were old, poetic, full of deep reflections about destiny, the Force, and self-discovery.

What they were not—was practical.

"It is in the silence of Ilum that one hears the whisper of the Force…"

"The cold strips away all but the truth of oneself…"

"The crystal does not choose you; you must become worthy of it."

Gil exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple with two fingers. "For kriff's sake, could just one of you have written down a simple packing list?"

He wasn't an idiot—he understood that Ilum wasn't just about getting a fancy crystal. It was a test. A personal, spiritual challenge. Every account hammered home the same lesson: Jedi didn't just find their Kyber. The crystal called to them, revealed something about them. That was what concerned him.

He knew what it was like to stare into your own mind and not like what stared back. He had spent years trying to outrun certain memories, certain betrayals, and he had the scars—both inside and out—to prove it. His Padawan? They had scars of their own, and Gil was not too eager to force the young Kuhbee Kuhbee to tackle them head on, yet they had little choice. They had to go to Ilum to get the padawans crystals.

But Ilum had a way of cutting deep.

Leaning back in his chair, he let his gaze drift upward toward the endless rows of holobooks and data records that lined the archives. The Jedi had been going to Ilum for thousands of years. That kind of history had weight, and that weight pressed down on him now. Gil had built his saberstaff out of necessity, from crystals given to him by his old master in the heat of war. He had never done this the right way, never walked the same path as those before him. His bond with his weapon had been forged in the fire of war, not in some serene moment of enlightenment inside a mystical ice cave.

And now, his Padawan was about to take that journey, and he had no idea how to guide them through it.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before tapping a command into the holo-terminal. More files loaded—historical threats on Ilum, reports of looters, old records of Jedi encountering unexpected dangers. Because as much as the Jedi loved to wax poetic about inner truths and spiritual discovery, Gil knew the galaxy didn't give a damn about enlightenment. There were always raiders, thieves, and scavengers looking to cash in on Jedi relics.

Even now, in an era of relative peace, Ilum was still a target.

His fingers tightened around his saberstaff, the cool metal grounding him for a moment. No matter how personal the Gathering was supposed to be, he would not let his Padawan walk into that alone. Not in this galaxy. Not with what he knew. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he shut off the display and stood. If Ilum was going to throw surprises at them, then he'd learn every trick these archives had to offer.

Because when the time came, his Padawan would not go in blind.
 



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Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers

The Jedi Archives were as quiet as ever, the soft hum of holo-displays and the faint rustle of fabric the only sounds filling the vast space. But as Valery stepped through the towering shelves, her sharp gaze quickly landed on a familiar figure —seated at a terminal, bathed in the cold glow of data scrolling across the screen.

Gil Horn Gil Horn .

She paused for a moment, watching the way his shoulders tensed slightly, the subtle furrow of his brow as he stared at whatever text had just annoyed him. His fingers twitched near his saberstaff — absentminded, but telling. And then, with a soft chuckle, Valery shook her head and started toward him.

"Gil," she greeted, her voice carrying that familiar warmth, but also the faintest hint of amusement. She stopped beside his chair, arms loosely crossed, her smirk unmistakable. "You look tired."

Her gaze flicked to the holo-terminal, scanning the familiar details of Ilum's terrain before shifting back to him. "Studying up for the Gathering?" she guessed, one brow lifting slightly. "Or are you just enjoying old Jedi texts?"

Her smirk deepened, but there was an unmistakable note of sincerity in her tone as she added, "Need a hand?"









 


Tags: Valery Noble Valery Noble

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Gil didn't look up right away. He sat there, elbow braced against the desk, chin in hand, staring at the flickering holo-display like it had just insulted his intelligence. Which, to be fair, it kind of had. One finger tapped rhythmically on the edge of the terminal—part restlessness, part futile attempt to telepathically force the archives to give him something useful. So far, all he'd gotten was frostbite warnings and metaphors about personal growth.

Spoiler: none of it helped.

Then came the voice. Warm. Familiar. Carried that specific brand of smug amusement that only Valery Noble could deliver without actually saying anything smug.

His eye twitched.

"Valery Noble," he muttered, dragging her name out with an exaggerated sigh as he twisted halfway in his chair. "You know, I come here for the peace and quiet, and yet somehow, the universe still finds ways to punish me."

He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest like he'd just been personally betrayed by ancient Jedi wisdom. His saberstaff, propped neatly against the side of the desk, tapped lightly against the floor as he shifted.

"You know what I've learned so far?" he said, gesturing vaguely to the wall of glowing text in front of him. "Ilum is cold. That's the big takeaway. Cold, deeply unhelpful, spiritually terrifying, and—" he jabbed a finger at the floating map, highlighting a jagged corridor that wound deep into the planet's crust "—apparently full of caves that like to move while you're inside them. Because of course they do. Wouldn't want a rite of passage without some reality-bending architecture thrown in."

He tilted his head toward her, eyes narrowed just slightly, though the smirk hadn't left his face.

"And yes, I'm studying for the Gathering. My Padawan's, anyway. Figured one of us should know what the hell's going on when the cave walls start whispering ancient wisdom and the floor drops out from under us."

The grin faded a bit as he looked back at the screen. His voice dipped, sarcasm giving way to something quieter. Still dry, but thinner.

"I never did this," he said, tapping the console once with the side of his hand. "No pilgrimage, no trial, no big self-discovery moment in the snow. My crystals came from my master. Relics of war and the gift of someone soon to be One with the Force. These crystals," Gil said, tapping his saberstaff, "are heirlooms of the war I never want another Jedi to have to see."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Just stared at the screen, lips pressed into a flat line. "I'm trying to figure out how to walk someone through a rite of passage I never actually had," he said finally, voice low. "So I'm here. Reading poems about 'clarity in the cold' and 'becoming one with the stillness.'" He made a vague, frustrated hand gesture. "It's all very vague and deeply useless."

He turned back toward her, raising a brow. "And if you say anything heartfelt or wise, I swear to the Force I will launch this chair into hyperspace."

The corners of his mouth twitched—just a hint of the usual grin breaking through. But her offer of help wasn't missed, and the sarcasm softened a touch.

"If you're offering, I'm not proud. I'll take the help," he said, scooting the chair sideways with a dramatic sweep of his boot. "But fair warning—if you enjoy reading this stuff, I'm putting in a formal request to have your decision-making reviewed by the Council. Possibly twice."

He gestured toward the terminal like it had personally offended him. "Go on, Noble. Enlighten me. What the kriff does 'the silence between footsteps is the loudest truth' actually mean?"

 


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TAG: Gil Horn Gil Horn Valery Noble Valery Noble

Kuhbee was not in the archives like his master was. Instead he was inside his dorm room, curled up next to his bed in a meditative stance. His large paws were crossed and he was trying to breath rhythmically, but every time he closed his eyes an image of the Sithspawn charging him on Woostri. The battle hadn't been the epic clash of titans one would expect between Jedi and Sith. In fact Kuhbee hadn't even seen much action, but for some reason that image of the charging beast was caught in his mind. It was keeping him up at night. It was plaguing his thoughts during classes. It was causing all sorts of emotions that Jedi were not supposed to feel.

Kuhbee was afraid.

Suddenly he felt like a small child who had enlisted in a war effort like a fool. He also felt shameful because Wookies were supposed to be brave. How could he be brave when the only battle he'd ever been in had terrified him?

The young cub just didn't know anymore.






 



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Outfit: Jedi Jumpsuit
Weapons: Lightsabers


Valery stared at him for a moment, expression frozen somewhere between amusement and exasperated fondness. Then she gave a long, dramatic sigh "Stars, Gil," she muttered as she stepped closer, glancing at the console like it was a particularly unhelpful student. "You're lucky your sarcasm's cute." She said it with a smirk, of course, but her eyes were already scanning the lines of highlighted text, fingers clasped behind her back as she leaned in just enough to read over his shoulder.

"'The silence between footsteps is the loudest truth,'" she echoed, her voice low and a little too calm to be innocent.

A beat.

"It means you're overthinking it," she said with a smug tilt of her head. Without waiting for him to retaliate, Valery reached across and began scrolling through the file list, skimming the ancient text like someone fluent in an archaic language — and in a way, she was.

"Look, I get it. The Gathering is abstract as hell. No two experiences are the same, and trying to 'prepare' for it is like trying to plan for a dream." She flicked her eyes back to him, a small, softer smile forming. "But that's the beauty of it. The Gathering is a personalized journey meant to test your Padawan, not you."

"We prepare them by helping them have courage. By making sure they believe in themselves, and that they feel safe being open about what they struggle with."
She paused and offered him a warm smile.


"If you want to help your Padawan, build up his confidence and show him that you believe in him."








 

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