Shadows Fall

[Alkor Centaris]

Muunilinst glimmered from dawn until dusk as the sun beat down on its decadence. Gilded spires and towering displays of vast wealth flecked the cityscape of Harnaidan in a way that seized at Alkor's stomach and prompted him toward nausea. Still, the Jen'jidai showed no trace of the memories that stretched across the horizon beneath him. "Some things change, others do not," he muttered in discontent as the luxury skiff sailed across the silvery blue sky. Economic prosperity had always been the way of things along the Braxant Run, guided by the careful and meticulous hand of the Banking Clan. The Muuns understood the complexities of capital and how to increase it exponentially. It had made their work a delicious target for bureaucrats like William Reign and Eversio, all too eager to use that power to its fullest capacity.

For years, the Dark Jedi Order thrived in the shadows of the Intergalactic Banking Clan, manipulating their dealings and raiding their coffers for war efforts. They shored up the defenses of a modest superpower and turned it into a juggernaut. No man- Sith or Jedi- would ever have laid siege to Muunilnst in its heyday. When Alkor glanced skyward, the familiar Skyhook loomed overhead. It was as though all their efforts and toils had been undone by time. High Port was not the only anomaly, however.

No rubble cluttered the streets. Harnaidan was a picture of its golden age, fierce and proud despite the chaos that once consumed it. Worse yet, nothing at all remained of the once familiar darkness. The Spire that housed his Brothers and the complexities of their lifestyle was gone. It looked as though it had never existed at all, swallowed by industrialization. Busy magnet train lines ripped across the shallows toward Mariunhus and back, and it felt like commerce went on unhindered.

Alkor shifted uncomfortably. Impermanence had never unnerved the Corellian before. Death had been a constant in his walk through life. Whether by his hand or around him, he had become so used to the notion that even watching it did not prick at him. Yet now as he looked down at what had been his life for more than fifteen years, Alkor understood what it meant to be forgotten. A legacy swallowed up and eroded by those eager to forget lived on only behind his eyes.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" the Muun turned his neck slightly and locked eyes with Alkor, who shook his head slightly. "Are you certain? You've been digging your fingernails into the rail for several minutes. You're bleeding."

The Dark Jedi glanced down at his fingertips, which leaked a deep crimson.

"Do you recall a man named Walja Clibos?" Alkor asked quietly as he glanced away from the alien.

"I'm afraid I do not," the Muun answered slowly. "Should I?"

"Eversio," he corrected. "He called himself Eversio."

The Muun studied Alkor for a moment, then glanced toward the city below. "No," he told Alkor once more, "I've never heard of him."

As his gaze hardened, Alkor let out a soft sigh. "I see," Alkor huffed. "interesting."

His guide folded lithe hands and leaned out over the railing beside Alkor. "You seem familiar with my homeworld, human," the Muun smiled serenely. "I remember times of great strife and turmoil in our past, but the Muun are a resilient people. Our wealth is a testament to our fortitude. We have learned to adapt, and to grow. What answers do you seek in visiting the Vaults?"

Alkor closed his eyes. "Do the gardens still grow at the feet of the Spires?" he asked suddenly.

"Why, of course," the Muun answered with a bright smile. "Are you a naturalist? We have been increasing our interests of late, and botanists are being hired more frequently to study-"

"No, no," Alkor shook his head. "I always enjoyed the gardens, is all."

"I see," the Muun resigned himself. "I take it you are not interested in doing business on Muunilinst, then."

"I have done more than enough business on Muunilinst," Alkor replied curtly. "I have several things left to put in order, and that will be all. This planet will be much better for my disinterest, I think."

The Muun watched him with a pensive expression, but said nothing else.

 

[Sakri]

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

The luxury skiff had made for a decent form of transportation. Had she been invited? No. Had she paid to be on there? Also no. Did any of that matter to her? The answer was the same as that of the previous questions. She faced the stern of the skiff, her hood up and her cloak fluttering in the wind.

Her never-ending search had led her here.. Specifically, to one of the passengers on this ship. Thankfully, he already seemed less hellbent on destruction than one of her previous targets. That had nearly been a fruitless endeavour, to be sure. But now the two of them were in the same place at the same time, and she did not intend to let the opportunity go to waste. She had heard tell that this "Alkor Centaris" might have information she desired to obtain. Her informant had been a reliable source so far, and though Misakritys was becoming a regular client of hers, she very much doubted that the eccentrically-coloured girl cared one way or another whether she got what she was ultimately seeking.

Though her nictitating green eyes were on the cityscape below her, her mind never strayed from the skiff itself and its passengers. And when she sensed an opening, she turned and moved, walking towards the Jen'jidai and the Muun just a few meters away. As she passed them, she stopped in her tracks and turned, as if surprised by what she had heard.

"Did I hear you correctly? You're hiring botanists?"

She approached the Muun, smiling widely with a look of interest on her face. Her knowledge in the field would be enough to get the Muun's attention, while at the same time allowing her to sum up her target face-to-face.

 

[Keira Priest]

Music
There really wasn't much that interested her about Muunilinst, if Keira was being honest with herself. It was under the domain of the Mandalorian Empire, having been one of their first conquests, and that was where the majority of her knowledge ended. Certainly she was familiar with the Intergalactic Banking Clan and their dealings, along with the terrain of the planet as a whole, but in all her years of touring the galaxy whether for war or some other motivation, she had never set foot on the world. Until now. Because, well, sometimes she didn't have anything better to do. Combat didn't encompass the entirety of her existence. Just a healthy portion.

Absently she leaned against the railing of the skiff, her gaze seemingly transfixed on the scenery. In reality she was lost in her own thoughts, for once reflecting on all that had brought her here. Not just recently, mind you, but further back than that. Not quite to what she considered her true beginning, as that had been all of twelve years ago. What she dwelt on was her service to the Republic, and how that had all come to a screeching halt after what had transpired on Alderaan. It was then her brother had brought her into House Verd. Before that she had been a general in the Republic, and a candidate for Supreme Commander before that, one of the finest fighters they had.

Now she was the Al'nau'ramikad of the Mandalorian Knights with a seat on the Rayshe'a, second only to Mand'alor. Between the two standings she would no doubt choose the latter, though there were still days when she missed it. As much as she didn't see eye-to-eye with that particular galactic power, it had been a simpler time. No matter how cliche that sounded, it was the truth. But she had a new family now, among the Empire, and more relatives than she would perhaps ever know. Not one of blood, mind, but the bonds there were just as strong. And that family was hard to ignore, given that House Verd made up a large fraction of the Mandalorian Empire her brother commanded.

One could perhaps argue it was family that brought her here, and there was a chance they wouldn't be entirely wrong. However, speaking in her defense, she hadn't known initially that her younger brother was present. Now that she did, well. It would be unlike her to make a comment, and after the incomplete conversation they had shared at some point beforehand she was more stubborn than was typical to make some kind of connection. Not like her, but he reminded her of her younger self. Too much so, in fact. It was something she was still at odds with, but that didn't stop her from approaching casually as ever, returning to leaning against the railing next to him. "Vod'ika. Or should I say, iom fraho."

[member="Alkor Centaris"]

 

[Alkor Centaris]

"Why yes!" the Muun turned to regard the Firrereo woman with a broad smile, strange but not unkind across it's elongated face. "Botany has become quite the investment in recent times, since we placed a large deal of stock in Garqi to promote advancements in medicine and preventative measures against bioweapons and their ilk." He steepled his fingers and inclined his head slightly, only a bit taller than [member="Sakri"], and a bit bulkier. "If you'd like, I can have further information forwarded to you and arrange a meeting with the minister of affairs within the week."

Alkor glanced toward the strange woman as she interrupted the conversation, but it was not an unwelcome change. He hardly enjoyed dredging up the past, and being on Muunilinst like this was bad enough. The world did not change much, even in eight hundred years. While the Gulag Plague came and went, memories of bloody insurrection and the ravages of his own actions did not. House Verd accepted Alkor, but his urge to see for himself what time had done to his former life got the better of him. Isley suggested that Alkor go to Muunilinst- a world under dominion of the Crusade- and put the matter to rest at last.

It was not a notion Alkor disagreed with. [member="Keira Ticon"], a Dark Jedi and member of House Verd, as well as one of the closest members of the Crusade to Isley himself volunteered to come with him, but the Corellian exile believed she had an ulterior motive. It was confirmed when she pressed the issue of that language again. Alkor glanced at her in silence and then back down toward the pristine waters that shimmered in the late day sun. "You speaking it doesn't make me want to speak it back," he iterated. "It makes me want to put a lightsaber in your throat."

Honest. Alkor was nothing if not true to his word, even if the word was almost a threat to a woman who disliked being threatened. The honesty drew the Muun's gaze back to Alkor, but he did not speak. Instead, he gulped down and turned his gaze back to Sakri. Better to speak to the halfway sane girl than the man spouting off about stabbing someone with a Jedi weapon, right?

Alkor continued to lean on the railing with both arms folded, and he buried his face in the crease of his elbow. "It was there," he remarked quietly, but he did not indicate where he meant.

"You mean the great garden?" the Muun inquired. "There was a spire there, once. Old stories- older than the Plague, even. There was a powerful group of Force Adepts that ruled over Muunilinst once. They regulated the economy, used our resources, took us to war-" his eyes snapped to Alkor, then back toward the garden. It was a beautiful sight. A large Force-sensitive tree climbed toward the sky, at level with several of the smaller spires. It was surrounded by all manner of bushes, flowers, shrubbery, man-made aqueducts and statuettes that brought beauty to the scene of unimaginable chaos. Alkor could not stand the sight of it.

He could feel it, however.

The nexus of power was immense. It was not dark, the way he imagined it would be. Tens of thousands of lives were lost in the civil war, and even the Jen'jidai themselves became embroiled in the madness and fell on the sword. Something had changed between those eight hundred and fifty years ago and today, because the world felt calm, even peaceful. It was a place of pure calm, and Alkor knew that healing had come to Muunilinst.

It was a luxury that he never had, but one he was glad the planet knew. At some level, Alkor could rest knowing that the Muuns would only remember the past as a legend, and their hatred of him was long dead. "Little is really known about who they were, or the things they did. What we do know is that at some point, there was a war. They were all destroyed, and nothing was left."

That wasn't quite true. Alkor understood what it meant to be tied inexorably to a place forever. Hell, he was bound to this place by virtue of his memories. The nexus in this place was proof that the Jen'jidai persisted the ages, and that their legacy had changed from a twisted and evil thing into something that could be learned from. It gave Alkor the tiniest hope that his life was not the pit his former brothers wanted him to believe that day he spent in hell.

"This garden grew in over the span of several hundred years. Beautiful, is it not?"

Alkor turned to face the spires behind them and blew a breath out between his pursed lips. "Gorgeous," the Dark Jedi muttered. "are we almost there?"

 

[Keira Priest]

"You can try, but you're just as liable to end up dead, brother." Just as his own offhanded statement hers was halfway a threat and a matter of fact, given the strength each held as their own. The familial honorific was exaggerated as if to remind him just who it was he stood with. Whether he liked it or not the two of them were family and had been ever since his being brought into House Verd, and nothing would much alter it. The two of them would simply have to learn to live with the fact that they were brother and sister, and things were off to a decidedly rough start. Then again, not much different had been anticipated.

This was the closest thing to peaceful she had seen him since they first crossed paths, though she wasn't certain that said much, given that their first meeting had been on the battlefield. At the very least he seemed marginally at ease with his surroundings, lost in a past that she knew was far too distant to be recovered in more than scraps. The aura about him was one best described as thoughtful and nearly meditative, indicative of digging up memories long buried in order to compare them with the present as some sort of worn and faded roadmap. Muunilinst was evidently some sort of home for him, and she respected that as much as she would anything else, regardless of his attitude.

Absently she listened to what the Muun had to say, well aware that his recollections were likely shrouded half in legend and therefore not fully reliable. What was put forth, however, reminded her of the numerous sects she had affiliated herself within the past that had fallen apart or been torn asunder by war or simply time itself. In that sense she empathized with Alkor, knowing what it felt like to return home but not to home exactly as it once had been. But people like them seemed to be destined for a life like this, no matter the circumstances. Happy endings just weren't in the cards.

"You remember." Her voice was quiet out of respect for him and his memories, "Good. Don't ever forget. You want to hold on to what you once had here. Remember where you came from, because that will help you know where it is you're going. As much as you might not want to recall anything, you have to. It's part of the healing." She never quite looked directly to him as she spoke, her gaze drawn to the scenery laid out before them. Or maybe she just didn't want to admit that she felt some kind of bond with the man next to her, even if they hardly knew each other beyond a name.

[member="Alkor Centaris"]