Secret Vaults of the Selab (Levantine Sanctum Dominion of Bayan)

[Nohemi Allaneh]

@Je’gan Olra’en @Illias Nytrau

Nohemi would turn to grace the ginger maned male with a cordial greeting.

“It is a pleasure, Master Nytrau.” she would say in turn, but there was certain curiosity running through her eyes at his comment about Zeltros, more so about the mention of healing. Was he a healer?

Perhaps a topic for another time, for Je’gan made note of the direction of the catacombs.

“Of course,” she would reply to the ‘shall we,’ following the Fallanassi apostate towards the entrance to the catacomb. They would need equipment first. Lights.

Her profile would turn to Je’gan, “Has there been any excavation… reinforcement of the catacombs?” she’d ask. Just how far down and deep has the progress amounted to?

 

[Chloe Blake]

[member="Seydon of Arda"]

Chloe’s brows would rise in mild surprise, but not shock. “Got me there,” she’d tease lightly, acknowledging her surname. The right corner of her mouth would perk in amusement, “Vagrant.. well… anyone who would be wandering down in the black could take up that name.” she’d tease.

Nonetheless, she gave a nod, and a small whimsical chuckle. “But perhaps I might have wandered round the southern part of the galaxy a time or two.” her eyes would twinkle in mischief.

“But you have me at an advantage. Never thought I’d have my own bit of infamy.” she’d say in lighthearted banter.

“Makes me wonder what else you might have heard about me.”

 

[Talia]

Talia’s nav computer would give a small beep of alert. She would be exiting hyperspace in a few minutes. With care, she used the Force to float the artifact back into it’s graphite container; she wasn’t too keen on touching it without getting more information on it.

After securing it, she would take her position in the pilot’s seat to take over manual control. A soft sigh would fall from her lips; both of growing excitement as well as a shade of nervousness. Answers she’d long sought for would perhaps be answered here. If it wasn’t a trap of course…

 

[Seydon of Arda]

[member="Chloe Blake"]

"Good things," He said, ducking under a squall of passing glass-hornets. "Just good things."

Seydon had to frown, glancing at a gaggle of heavy-lift servitors struggling to install a fat lumbar of solidified ferrocrete over a tampered bed of yellowed gravel and sand-grit. Pallets waited through a clearing chewed through thistle-brush, topped high with whitened bricking swabbed in plastic wrap. Oval capstones were under current examination from a droid-foreman, washing the stone-piles over with half-light scan beams from half-a-dozen photoreceptor blisters on its smoothed face-plate.

"Just heard you've been a friend to Jorus Merrill, and most of us here wouldn't have made it out of firing lines if he hadn't sent word he'd found pastoral 'Free Space'," Seydon nodded. "...Which means any friend of Captain Merrill has got to have a few hair-raisers to tell over some coffee. Are you...?"

Absently, frowning, wiping a glove over his lips. "...Are you with Jorus' outfit? Not the Wardens, but... ...The Tree?"

He didn't know their moniker proper. Save he'd seen stylized motifs depicting Trees of Wisdom embossed or engraved upon medallions and defaced cred-chits. Captain Merrill recently entrusted a virtual reliquary to his keeping. He possessed little affection for another umpteenth shadow-hand playing its regicide pieces over the Galactic pane, but Levantines were being increasingly drawn into the invisible game. And Chloe Blake wore from her vesting a length of chain attached to an antique chrono-watch bearing a remarkably coincidental flora fashioned on its snap-lid.

 

[Velok the Younger]

The astromech's list of trades conducted scrolled across Rave's screen, a light-year away. Realistic and reasonable trades, no excessive profits -- except for that set of coordinates with the ambiguous description. She queried the astromech for an image of that barter client, and gave the screen a long slow blink when it turned out to be her brother.

So Chancellor Harkness had charged Jorus with remote containment of Force artifacts, and Jorus had handed that responsibility over to the Order of the Selab. Her ooglith cloaker writhed around her as some of her excitement bled out into Vongsense. It would take the astromech's Tachyon less than an hour to get out of the grav well and go extrasystem to rendezvous with the Lethewalker. At which point, those coordinates could use a looksee. She had enough boarding droids and specialized weapons to handle whatever security precautions her brother might have forgotten about.

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Nohemi Allaneh"] [member="Ilias Nytrau"]

"Nobody's so much as set foot in there," he said, cracking a supply crate beside the autoturrets. He dismissed the illusion temporarily with a wave of his hand, then rose bearing glowrods, tracking beacons, and safety markers for the autoturrets. That, and Scanpacks. "Levantine Scanpacks have a powerful seismic sensor built in; if we pay attention, we should be fine as far as cave-ins go." He passed out the gear. "Shall we?"

 

[Chloe Blake]

[member="Seydon of Arda"]

Chloe’s blonde brows would rise in mock tease at the mention of ‘good things.’

“Mmhmm… of course,” pearly white teeth would flash in good humor as they would continue their path. The mention of Jorus would bring a warm smile to her face, only to pause briefly at the commentary about having a few hair-raising tales.

“You’ve no idea,” she’d say in turn, arching a brow at his stumbling query. “The tree?” she’d ask in amusement and a seemingly bemused expression. If there was anything that would distinguish Jorus from Chloe is that Chloe would be a traditionalist thorough and thorough. Wardens of the Sky were a quiet lot, preferring to blend into the surroundings of spacers and navigators alike, conducting their patrols with as little revelation of their true mission as possible. The Wardens, after all, have been regarded for nearly a millennia as mere myth and legend -- spacer tales. It was for this very reason that during the various centuries of persecution that the Jedi or any other public Force Organization, the Wardens were relatively unharmed and unnoticed, able to survive.

The Order of Selab was no different, at least for Chloe. Having her admit it would require a trust and confidence in an individual much like she did with Jorus when she revealed the true nature of the Order of Selab to him.

As of yet, there was no indication that Seydon of Arda was a part of the Order at all. So, Chloe, by all means, would not admit any participation to an Order that those outside of it should not know about.

“Well I did partake with a sharing of loretales with the Neti,” she’d say with a whimsical smile, eyes bright as she would continue, “And there was a time with the Zelosians, wonderfully energetic people with interesting plays.”

 

[Ashin Varanin]

All things considered, Iara Beorht was looking for a place to rest. The Republic hadn't given her that; instead, she'd had flashback after flashback to her days as a Sith Empire administrator and military commander. Not days she was anxious to relive -- but then again, maybe it was just coordination, responsibility, regimentation that set off her memories like a firecracker string. So she'd come out here on a rumor and a hunch, following Boolon Murr.

The Aletheia, a replica Delaya-class courier, touched down near the small group of starships, and one cyborg Twi'lek limped her painful way into the construction site to get to work. Telekinesis was her specialty, and there were always more I-beams to move. In that, at least, she could be perfect.

 

[Mother Arg'garok]

Waddle waddle. Grunt grunt. Waddle waddle. Grunt, snort, snort.

Tiny beady black eyes shrouded in a fringe of fuzzy white lashes would peer out from deep sunken eye sockets. Her snout would twitch, slightly damp, as the bloodsucking parasitic Morrts latched onto her cheek, chins, and neck would twitch with seemingly friendly glee.

She was well over 100 kilograms, and had enough girth to make the mumu of her plainsclothes stretch over her wide belly, fat chubby cheeks dangling out of the simple wimple she wore on her head.

Her tiny hands would sway back and forth slightly as she went waddling by, greeting people with a toothy smile, ivory tusks peeking out of her mouth.

It was a good day. Yes. A good day.

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Jaxton watched as the spacer casually traded off the location of a bunker of rare darkside artifacts in return for the schematics of a 4 millienia old frigate. Many might question the logic, even sanity of such a decision but Jaxton thought it was that was well played. Give the only way to find the location to a random astromech droid in a planet in the middle of nowhere was as good a hiding spot as any in the galaxy, and the ship was a nice bonus, especially for one who spent more time in an airlock and in air. Giving a small chuckle he addressed the man.

"It has been a good day hasn't it?" Jaxton replied. "If I may, I'm a bit curious. I've heard bits and pieces of who we're doing this for and it seems a noble cause, but do you know anything more? I find myself out of the loop so to speak."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Jaxton Ravos"]
"Well, it's a secret of sorts, though it ain't my secret per se." He glanced about, then made for a nearby shipping container, its cargo already part of the growing structure. Down on one knee, he cracked the toolbox marked with the tree, and soft radiance filled the air.

"There's folks that keep things like this safe," he said, "all through the dark times and into the now. Archivists, some of'em. Others just feel about knowledge like some feel about weapons of mass destruction. They're called the Order of the Selab, and it seems they like ya. And yeah, this is the Great Holocron, and this one's the Tionne Holocron. I keep'em under my pilot's seat until time comes that there's a Jedi Order responsible enough to give'em over."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

The nuna scrabbled its way to the apex of an unlovely old machine, all strange angles and incomplete curves. Light swelled beneath it, warming its gizzard until it felt the need to urinate white sludge all over its perch. The light swellled to a greater degree, and the nuna squawked its way to safer ground. It blinked suspiciously at the big swirly white thing that had appeared overhead -- a galaxy in hologram, with a single spot marked as yellow as a plump Bayanese mealworm.

The nuna narrowed its eyes in contemplation.

 

[Seydon of Arda]

[member="Chloe Blake"]

"I've a wife over there," Seydon nodded [member="Rosa Gunn"]'s way while she kept venerable Master Murr company by the slowly awning barrier of rising grasses and nettle-beds. "Who's faithfully, adamantly, told me the very same.

"And yes, 'the Tree'," He replied in mock, sidling past her on a slow gait around the conclave perimeter. Three droids were languishing under the care of a servitor-mechanic tending to stripped shock-dampeners ruined in a collision with a bulk lifter. Shin-prosthetics were being rapidly screwed off before re-bolting fitted replacements. "Or it could be an incredibly pretentious fern-shrub, I'm not sure."

 

[Velok the Younger]

The Tachyon-class broke away and vanished, bound for AEL's Laekia headquarters. Rave watched it go with mixed feelings.

Fundamentally, this felt like a betrayal. It wasn't, so far as she could tell; this was her upholding the principles of the Order, nothing more. Keeping things safe, regardless of whether her brother had erred or chosen wisely. But her ascetic ruin of a conscience poked at her, and for once she found it worthwhile to pay attention.

She left the light frigate in the care of its experienced bridge crew, mixed herself a drink, and went to consult with the other holocron, the one true holocron she had at her disposal. She kept it in a turadium safe, pending Larraq's completion of her mobile vault. King Nakgru of the ancient Sith was its gatekeeper, a man of anachronistic gifts -- ancient blaster schematics, Force powers that had since become redundant or outdated. He'd once strung her along for a week before bestowing, like a benevolent parent, the means of constructing a terentatek from scratch. Considering she knew terentatek anatomy better than she knew the backs of her hands-

Well, another keeper might have found more value in that. Bottom line, though, the Nakgro Holocron was mostly useful for its knowledge of where other things were located. She talked with it for a while, relaxed somewhat, and only then did she return to the bridge and set course for her brother's cache.

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa sighed. "I know." she replied simply. "My bitterness is not for the flames, but for those who start the fires. I wonder how long they will go unpunished, how long it will be before justice is dealt. Look at Matsu Ike, look at how long the Order protected her after Metalorn. Seven hundred million people are dead or missing on Druckenwell, and millions more witnessed it and will be crying out for justice. They will light fires of their own it doesn't matter whether the fire starter has good intentions or not, the flames will get out of control and all will be left is ash and darkness."

She moved slowly along the hedge as she spoke, her encouragement unfaltering as she spoke. "I feel like I should do something. But I am unsure where to start."

[member="Boolon Murr"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Rosa Gunn"]

"If we speak of a picture that big, I suppose, it's fair that we say we speak of wildfire. Many who seek to fight fire on that scale succumb to it, or find themselves divorced from the needs of everyday life. How paltry the needs of the common man look after one has been out saving the world. How easy it is to forget that all morality derives from compassion.

"Begin, I think, by strengthening those around you. Master Seydon will need your support and your guidance. Master Ravos, I think, doubts his place, or doubts that he can find a way to do anything worthwhile. Master Merrill holds himself apart from the Jedi heritage, even more than I do as a priest of the mother jungle -- and others among us require some degree of bolstering, compassion, guidance, even just a moral sounding board. I believe you can be that."

 

[Ashin Varanin]

@Mother Arg'garok
"Careful there, friend," said Iara from behind the Nun of G'aav'aar'oon. The Twi'lek lidded her eyes, one flesh and one synthflesh hand closing into fists by her sides, and a tall stack of permacrete mix bags decided not to settle onto the Gamorrean the hard way. The stack trembled, giving off permacrete dust, and shifted gently away until it stabilized.

 

[Nohemi Allaneh]

@Je'gan Olra'en


Nohemi passed along to Ilias his portion of the glowrods, tracking beacons, and safety markers before taking her own. She would secure them on her person, although it was a rather awkward five minutes as she had no belt to secure them on. Embarrassment at her situation and lack of preparation for an excavation would show in a bright pink blush upon her cheeks.

"Pardon for the wait," she would say in apology, before a nearby worker managed to find her an extra belt for her use. It would lay high on her hips, a black worn belt, a bit dusty, and seemingly out of place against the delicate silvery white silk of her robe.

Taking a glow rod in hand, face still flushed a rosy hue, Nohemi gave a nod in acknowledgement to her Master, attempting to retain a measure of her dignity despite her faux pas.

 

[Chloe Blake]

[member="Seydon of Arda"] 's reaction would only fan Chloe's sense of mischief. "Oh a pretentious tree? Really? What makes it so pretentious? Perhaps one just needs to hear a bit more about the Tree, to understand it. " she'd say in turn, teeth flashing as they neared a wooden table, the sound of ongoing construction at the edge of their hearing.

"Maybe there's a story behind it... a tall tale about the pretentious tree..."

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Jaxton followed the spacer as he headed over to the shipping cargo area then got on one knee and displayed the inner contents of his toolbox. They were tools yes, but of a far different sort than expected. Truth be told they looked quite familiar, as if the Jedi Order had once had them before. Or perhaps he was simply seeing things. As the spacer went on however he explained which holocrons he possessed, the ones he simply kept under the bench of his starship, like an old man kept credits under his mattress because he didn't believe in the Bank. A warranted opinion in truth.

"I completely understand. It's not always hard to find men with good intentions, but can be far harder to find men with good practices as well. At times there seems to be a hypocritie in all of us." He said, with a bit of a shrug, part wishing he was a better man and part wishing he hadn't gotten all philosophical. Didn't really suit him to try and edge his beliefs on people.

"If I happen to find any lost holocrons of infinite knowledge I'll make sure to buy another toolbox and mail it to you. Add to your collection a little. "