The Hair Knight
Objective: 2 - The Shatoon Monastery
Equipment: Gravity Hurts, Lightsaber, Vi'Dreya Crystal
Allies: [member="Jorah zos Darnus"]
Jerek surveyed the green tops of the jungles, watching them sway in the wind, the patterns natural and consistent. There was no rustle or disturbance by any large creatures, nor any shape of wings gliding over the tops of them. So far so good. The reports of haunting calls and the appearance of a maroon Ruping, an unusual color for the species it seemed, had the local populace spooked and in need of assistance. And the Silver Jedi never turned down a call for help, sending their compliment of relief teams, which is what brought the Jedi padawan to the Shatoon Monastery to begin with.
The old monastery was steeped in heritage, a hotspot of history that rose from the ground like a horn, and towered over the jungled horizon. Though the outer walls were smooth, worn away from weather and time, the cramped inner vaults and hallways still reflected the grandeur of ages past. Carvings upon the walls told a story in a language long since lost, but they still held the echoes of their teachings in the energy that lived here. He could feel them, they lacked any innate affiliation with one side of the Force or another, but the lives of those who lived and worked here before still had influence and still wrote their stories upon the walls.
Micah would love it.
For once, the orange furball was not underfoot or around in any fashion. In fact, the youth wasn't certain what the former Sithling was up to at the moment, but he had passed into the care of the Silver Jedi now. That didn't mean Jerek was free from babysitting duties, oh no. Today's partner was only a bit younger than the padawan, though seemingly no less naive to the ways of the galaxy. Yet where Micah had been book smart, this youngling seemed street smart —or rather, jungle smart. That was why Jerek was atop the monastery's pyramid, and Jorah was prowling the jungle around it.
It felt odd to be at a religious site wearing armor. Jerek felt like an intruder as he stepped inside the stone sanctuary, the magnetic boots that formed part of his suit clicked loudly as he stepped along the ancient stones. He was tempted to turn on the suit's belt-mounted micro-repulsors to cancel the noise, but that felt an even worse offront than the mere act of wearing the suit to begin with. The padawan told himself that it was a necessity dictated by the circumstances, and the best way he could help protect the Ithorian monks who called this place their home was to be well equipped for the task.
The boy nodded to one of the hammerheaded brothers of the monastery, and tried not to think anything of the side-eyed glance he was receiving in response. The bifrucated visage of the species must have been a useful evolution on their homeworld at some point, so the Ithorian's gaze was perfectly natural here. The ascetic fished a device from his belt and spoke into it with one of his mouths, and Jerek felt an irresistible curiosity for what it would sound like to converse with the monk in the stereo speech of his native tongue.
"Does the Sister Jungle still fare well, Brother Jedi?"
To the Ithorians, the jungle of their home planet was sacred, mother to all. Its siblings on other worlds were likewise, so naturally the Ruping threat concerned the monastery's occupants. Other Rupings had gone missing, and their close bond with some of the local populace meant that their disappearance was felt deeply. Even without a terrorizing red Ruping, Jerek could sense the tense edge the monks were set on even before the first had opened their mouths. "It's all peaceful out there, so far. The last attacks happened at night, so we'll see what happens when evening falls, or when my partner comes back." The padawan left out the obvious alternative, if the Zabraki boy signalled him prior to that. Best not to unsettle the monks further, though. Jerek donned a tepid smile, adding, "Trust me, we'll handle anything that comes this way, you have nothing to worry about."
Jerek heard a few mumblings in stereo that the translator didn't pick up, but the monk was already returning to his work. Nodding to himself, Jerek did the same, still waiting for the call or return of Jorah zos Darnus.
Equipment: Gravity Hurts, Lightsaber, Vi'Dreya Crystal
Allies: [member="Jorah zos Darnus"]
Jerek surveyed the green tops of the jungles, watching them sway in the wind, the patterns natural and consistent. There was no rustle or disturbance by any large creatures, nor any shape of wings gliding over the tops of them. So far so good. The reports of haunting calls and the appearance of a maroon Ruping, an unusual color for the species it seemed, had the local populace spooked and in need of assistance. And the Silver Jedi never turned down a call for help, sending their compliment of relief teams, which is what brought the Jedi padawan to the Shatoon Monastery to begin with.
The old monastery was steeped in heritage, a hotspot of history that rose from the ground like a horn, and towered over the jungled horizon. Though the outer walls were smooth, worn away from weather and time, the cramped inner vaults and hallways still reflected the grandeur of ages past. Carvings upon the walls told a story in a language long since lost, but they still held the echoes of their teachings in the energy that lived here. He could feel them, they lacked any innate affiliation with one side of the Force or another, but the lives of those who lived and worked here before still had influence and still wrote their stories upon the walls.
Micah would love it.
For once, the orange furball was not underfoot or around in any fashion. In fact, the youth wasn't certain what the former Sithling was up to at the moment, but he had passed into the care of the Silver Jedi now. That didn't mean Jerek was free from babysitting duties, oh no. Today's partner was only a bit younger than the padawan, though seemingly no less naive to the ways of the galaxy. Yet where Micah had been book smart, this youngling seemed street smart —or rather, jungle smart. That was why Jerek was atop the monastery's pyramid, and Jorah was prowling the jungle around it.
It felt odd to be at a religious site wearing armor. Jerek felt like an intruder as he stepped inside the stone sanctuary, the magnetic boots that formed part of his suit clicked loudly as he stepped along the ancient stones. He was tempted to turn on the suit's belt-mounted micro-repulsors to cancel the noise, but that felt an even worse offront than the mere act of wearing the suit to begin with. The padawan told himself that it was a necessity dictated by the circumstances, and the best way he could help protect the Ithorian monks who called this place their home was to be well equipped for the task.
The boy nodded to one of the hammerheaded brothers of the monastery, and tried not to think anything of the side-eyed glance he was receiving in response. The bifrucated visage of the species must have been a useful evolution on their homeworld at some point, so the Ithorian's gaze was perfectly natural here. The ascetic fished a device from his belt and spoke into it with one of his mouths, and Jerek felt an irresistible curiosity for what it would sound like to converse with the monk in the stereo speech of his native tongue.
"Does the Sister Jungle still fare well, Brother Jedi?"
To the Ithorians, the jungle of their home planet was sacred, mother to all. Its siblings on other worlds were likewise, so naturally the Ruping threat concerned the monastery's occupants. Other Rupings had gone missing, and their close bond with some of the local populace meant that their disappearance was felt deeply. Even without a terrorizing red Ruping, Jerek could sense the tense edge the monks were set on even before the first had opened their mouths. "It's all peaceful out there, so far. The last attacks happened at night, so we'll see what happens when evening falls, or when my partner comes back." The padawan left out the obvious alternative, if the Zabraki boy signalled him prior to that. Best not to unsettle the monks further, though. Jerek donned a tepid smile, adding, "Trust me, we'll handle anything that comes this way, you have nothing to worry about."
Jerek heard a few mumblings in stereo that the translator didn't pick up, but the monk was already returning to his work. Nodding to himself, Jerek did the same, still waiting for the call or return of Jorah zos Darnus.
