The Laughing Magickian
Name: The Heart of the Universe
Image Source: Not available.
Classification: Mountain
Location: Naboo, Gallo Mountains.
Size: A single, minor mountain within the range, completely nondescript and non-unique from the rest, save for it maybe being slightly smaller.
Population: Insignificant “tourist” population
Demographics: No one really “inhabits” the landmark, but the variance of species that visit are dependent on Major Faction Social politics. 20% Lost, 20% Recovering, 10% Hippie, 10% Terminally Ill, 5% New Age Spiritualist, 15% Mountain Climbing Hobbyists, 15% Homeless, 3% Curious, 1.5% Suicidal-and-Looking-for-Someone-to-Talk-Them-Out-of-It, and .5% dragged there by their dysfunctional parents.
Points of Interest: The peak itself.
Description: It is the peak of an otherwise not noteworthy mountain. It’s not particularly high, nor terribly short, and doesn’t boast any unique flora or fauna. Perhaps the most worthwhile thing about the Heart of the Universe prior to its discovery was its relative proximity (Still a good 2 miles or so) from a valley and its accompanying lake that has become a popular location for teen suicide over the last four decades.
The Heart of the Universe matters because of the residual Force Energy that lingers in the area. It was the escape point the Trenchcoat Man used to escape Netherworld/Hell by way of the Labyrinth’s Mountain of Memories. Due to the unique nature of the escape, Force Sensitives and Non-Sensitives have reported experiencing heavy vibes of emotional energy most often described as “Bittersweet.” It is frequently cathartic, and is sometimes accompanied by auditory and visual hallucinations.
History: The unusual condition of the Heart of the Universe was first discovered by Cleebo, a Rodian mountain climber of some renown, known for his holoblog on travel and self-improvement, and respected for his lack of pretension that typically comes with the charlatans and self-help gurus that share his hashtags. See, Cleebo was junkie once, and it is only in his love for nature that he found his escape:
“It’s not a point in my life that I’m particularly proud of…I have this memory that used to haunt me. We were in a speeder – Me, my girlfriend, her daughter – and we were passing a McYoda’s, and I remember Miri asking – well, shouting, really…She was in a kid in a carseat -- if she could have a Lightside Meal…And I snapped at her. ‘We don’t have the money!,’ I said. But that wasn’t the truth. We were just driving to go use it all on dope.
After the accident, I would think about that sometimes. How big this galaxy is, all the different incredible people and things to see, and just such an infinitude of sentient life, desperate for nothing more than a couple more seconds to behold it. So many people wanting to live and can’t. What right do I have to live my life asleep and miserable? How could I dare?”
--From Cleebo’s Holoblog entry on Alderaan
While trekking through the Gallo Mountains, Cleebo claims to have spotted an overcoat, drifting over the side of the peak. Initially, he thought it was a jumper, and he shouted in vain to it, as though his words could undermine gravity in its stubbornness. As it wafted down, clearly lighter than a man, Cleebo caught the garment and proceeded up the side, anticipating returning it to the no-doubt chilly gentleman at the top. There was nothing there, however, and as he surveyed the surrounding the land, he noticed that Theed was nearer than it should have been.
And then, Cleebo realized it wasn’t Theed, at all. It was Aldera.
“I can’t…describe what it is to be up here. It’s, like, my mother’s eyes when she had to finally kick me out…I’m sorry, I need to sit down.”
<The holocamera scrapes against the mountaintop as Cleebo repositions himself, picking up the veiled sniffles of the Rodian’s now-wet snout with each sharp inhale>
I tried to see them, after the State took them away, but…what was the point? They’re doing so much better now. Clean. Healthy. Government subsidiaries and everything. That was always going to be our life, though…
Nobody really likes the idea of a Karmic Force because it’s an inherently balanced system – It’s like, there is no injustice. Any suffering that happens, or any cruelty anyone does to you…You deserve it…Because, somewhere in the past, or in the future, you’re going to hurt somebody else...I can see them…I can hear all the dealers, and politicians, and all the people who profited off of my addiction…who kept me there, or just wanted me to hurry up and kill myself…and it wasn’t my fault.
...But it really was, though. I made the choice. And I enabled her. She had a kid, and wanted to get away, but I kept pulling her back…because I didn’t want to be in this hole by myself. I didn’t admit how bad I had gotten.
Oh no…
<The shot is ruined as Cleebo loses interest in maintaining it, the lens managing to capture an obscured shot of the mountaineer wiping his big ol’ eyes and snout with the trenchcoat he had found>
…You all really need to come out here. This place is important.”
-Cleebo’s holoblog entry on the “Heart of the Universe”
It was the jacket on which Cleebo blew his nose that bore sole witness to what had transpired to make this ordinary peak so extraordinary. If only it possessed the mouth or the will, it would have told us how these things came to be, and of the man who made them happen.
Born Benedict Eden, known as Nothing, the Trenchcoat Man was among those slated for damnation to Netherworld. As the son of the Dark Ghost currently riding [member="Loxa Visl"], his placement in Hell came as no surprise. After all, his blood was just bad. What was unique, however, was that it was his third time there.
Benedict’s first encounter with Hell was a bit merrier and read like a Tall Tale. His stay was brief, and his freedom won in a hand of cards played by dead and ancient Sith Lords that may or may not have a direct effect on the living world. It was a testament to his cunning and a story to tell pretty girls in pubs.
No, it would be the second time in Hell that poisoned Benedict’s spirit and cast his humanity into the gutter.
Born Benedict Eden, seconds after his twin sister, Avalore Eden (Not to be confused with his cousin [member="Avalore Eden"] ; the name a family one), Benedict had be resigned to the station of ‘young sibling,’ something Avalore took to heart, insisting that she look after him because he was not quite capable of looking after himself. Absentee parentism being the culprit, often, the best way to keep Benedict in line was to simply tattle on him to Noah, their father, and watch the boy get grounded for his own good. In the end, though, they would all age, Benedict would be committed to a mental asylum, just his mother, while the rest of his family would die horribly during one of many invasions on Theed. Though Avalore was gone, her ghost haunted Benedict as so many ghosts did. She acted as conscience, because, after all, he was not quite capable of looking after himself.
Dead again, Benedict and Avalore found themselves at the River of the Dead and the Path of Choices, where their souls would be judged for quality. Their hearts to be measured against a feather, they would speak their sins to the Lord of All, and for each lie, for each crime, their heart would sink, for sin burdens. Benedict, in his legendary cunning, switched his heart with his pure sister’s, and walked from justice while she torn apart in the abyss.
Upon his return to the galaxy, when his old lover and friend, Janey Hexam heard of what he had done, she used her Nightsister Magic to Force Brand his name, so that no one could even attempt to say the words “Benedict Eden” without calling him a Liar, a Coward, and a Monster, instead. He coped, as he always did.
And so, in this third time, even by the random, arbitrary nature by which the Netherworld event made its call, to the Trenchcoat Man, it was a long-time coming. A righting of an old wrong. Destiny. Accompanied by a decapitated head possessed by Mnggal-Mnggal, Benedict accepted his place in Hell.
It was at the Chasm of Passing that he found his situation untenable. There was an emptiness in Netherworld, a stillness. The collective unconscious that had dreamt it up did it from a place of isolation. They feared being alone. They feared being unemotional, disconnected. And so, their punishment was that – to wander a desert. To confront simulacrums of old tormentors or loved ones, and fight them in glorious battle, and learn nothing. Benedict’s crimes were too awful, and he knew that. He did not deserve a sandbox in which to walk around, to feel hollow about his misdeeds.
He wanted the guilt. He wanted to feel the full weight of what he had done. He wanted the justice that so many had taken in his place. He would return to the literal world and be crushed by his knowing.
Netherworld is a place of symbol, and Benedict Eden, an occultist and magickian who understand better than any the abstractions on which the land was founded. He knew where to find the exits. He knew exactly what tools he needed. Benedict knew he had to walk the road of Myth, of Grail Quest.
Mnggal-Mnggal and the Trenchcoat Man arrived at the Labyrinth, noting the Mountain of Memories that rested at its center. That would be the endpoint, and there would be no return. In this knowledge, the Labyrinth stopped being a Labyrinth at all, but instead a Yantra – a meditation inward. He would depart this plane not by escape, but by transcendence.
As he delved further into the Labyrinth, he felt more and more of his mortal concerns fall away: The desire to live and be comfortable (Muladhara); to be loved with a family (Swadisthana); and to be powerful and possess agency in one’s own life (Manipura). He confronted his God (Anahata), and then killed him (Wishuddha). He confronted Himself (Anja) and killed him, too (Sahasrara), finally reaching the Crown chakra and that simple, obvious wisdom of the Yogis: For a man to be one with the universe, he need only get over himself.
Atop the Mountain of Memories, Benedict Eden staggered nameless, forgetting of self and purpose, and heard only a Galaxy in pain. His heart split open, and as the abstract symbol pushed through into the literal, concrete world, Benedict was torn apart in a mass of fluttering indigo butterflies, giving his energy to the galaxy, not unlike Sean Patrick Flannery at the end of the movie Powder.
Naboo was his home. It was kind of the Force to let him die there.
The site has not become galactically popular yet, but word is getting around. Visitors report seeing cities that should not be on the horizon, or spotting little indigo butterflies fluttering across their field of vision. Some people hear crying, sometimes praying. They report a conflicting feeling, of joy and sorrow, of guilt and innocence – like slaving for weeks to buy a pair of very expensive shoes only to then be made aware of the slave labor responsible for them. Like Malachor V before it, the Heart of the Universe is scarred with the trauma that befell it, and while experiences with the mountain have all been different, one point is abundantly clear:
All we really have is each other, and everything we do affects everyone.
It's unclear whether or not that's a good thing.
On Cleebo’s comments page, a regular sought to crack wise at the mountaineer’s naming of the peak. “Heart of the Universe” is, without a doubt, obvious. A cliché’. There were likely countless sites all with the same name.
Unflappable, Cleebo typed back: “The galaxy’s a pretty big organism. I’d imagine it needs all the hearts it can get.”
Two weeks later, Cleebo reported the jacket “stolen.”
Intent: To win a contest and inflict untold horror upon SW:Chaos with its prize.
Links:
The River of the Dead and the Path of Choices in Netherworld
The Chasm of Passing in Netherworld
The Labyrinth in Netherworld
Episode V: Akala Strikes Back Tie-In: The Passion of the Guttermage
