Public What the Light Reveals [Svivren Jedi Enclave RP]

[The Master With No Name]

A whisper in the Force.​

She slowly opened her eyes. She felt its call, gentle, soft and echoing. It rang around her.

Sat in a posture of a Jedi Master, with perfect etiquette to the old forms, her legs were tucked beneath her thighs and her buttocks perched on the up turn heels of her feet, the Mistress in the light side twisted her lips. The call confounded her, it felt distant and yet it rang with a power in the Force she had never felt before. Not since the days of the long gone Galactic Republic. A sly smirk cracked at the edge of her mouth. It was a welcomed sensation. Long had she lingered in her own darkness, fending of the Sith virus that slowly ravaged her body and destructively clawed its way through her veins.

“This whisper,” she muttered to herself.

“This is what I have been searching for.”

“A light…in the dark.”

She broke from her meditative pose and rose from her seated stance. Taking the helm beside her she slid it onto her head, hiding her Sith plague ravaged face. As the internal HUD flicked on, the image of private chamber she had booked in a modest hostel in the Correllian shipyards materialized into view. It was a grey cell of a room, with a mattress on the floor and a blinds covered window. To one wall, Chirps, the red and white feminine R4-P astromech that was her only company was in quiet power down mode.

Planting her palms on her knees she stood up and walked to Chirps. She rested her hand on the dome top of Chirps head and like a mother to a sleeping child, tapped her awake.

“Up, up old friend,” she said.

Chirps bleeted into activity and waddled in place annoyed.

“Sorry, sorry, but I think we should be going,” the Mistress said.

Chirps replied with curt bleep.

“Where?” the Mistress parroted, “Well, wherever this whisper in the Force takes us I guess.”

Three more bleeps followed as Chirps watched the Mistress leave for the door, tapping a touch screen pad and sliding open the durasteel gate.

“No,” she snapped back at Chirps, “I didn’t just have a weird dream.”

“This is unmistakable. A tremor, in the Force.”

“One that maybe my salvation from this curse.”

Stepping out onto the terrace she walked along the balcony that stuck to the hostels façade. Up above starships hummed in loud growls as they did low fly-bys. Chirps followed, bleeping and tweeting as she went, giving the Mistress a lecture. The Mistress nodded her head and waved in feigned compliance. The droid was as old as she was. Seen her through many horrors, and in a way became her guardian. All be it, an ignored one.

Passing through crowded market streets and onto a wide open ship parking dock, she reached her starfighter – like everything else in her possession, an antique. An old Jedi-Class Heavy Starfighter, one used by the Jedi Masters of the once united Jedi Order under the Galactic Republic. It had once belonged to her father, a mighty Jedi Master of the Galactic Republic in his own right. When she reached it she saw a couple of dock hands patting it and inspecting its battered hull. With the flick of her hands, she picked one of them up and nudged them away.

“Wow what the hell!” he yelled.

“It’s unwise to touch another’s ship,” she jeered.

“Easy witch, we were just admiring the craftsmanship. They don’t make these anymore,” said the other one.

The Mistress laughed as she used the Force to start the ship and pop open the canopy. Climbing into the cockpit she smacked the other suspicious admirer on the back.

“No,” she said affectionately.

“No they don’t.”

The canopy closed, Chirps slid into the astromech docking port and the engines fired into full vernier afterburn. It rose and hovered over the dock space, blasting hot air and gales down.

Chirps interfaced with the navigation controls and whistled to her mistress.

“No idea Chirps,” she said.

“Let’s have it on active hyperspace jump protocols.”

“I’ll let the Force guide our jumps.”

“Let’s see where the whisper takes us.”

Shira Varanin

 

[Shira Varanin]

SVIVREN JEDI ENCLAVE - OUTSKIRTS

"Inner peace."

Shira had stalled herself in a handstand an indeterminate ago. Long enough to be uncomfortable, anyway, despite doing this exercise many times.

"Inner peace."

A fly brushed her ear. She flinched, twitched, and hung onto the Force for dear life.

"Inner p-"

She overcompensated for a wobble and tumbled into the grass. So did half a dozen previously levitating rocks.

When she rolled to a halt on the grassy slope, an old Jedi starfighter was just touching down. She sat up and squinted at the pilot's vague outline.

The Master With No Name

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Tiland had to agree that it was convenient for Svivren to host a Jedi enclave in the Outer Rim. Normal Jedi, anyway. Well, if it were possible for Jedi to be normal. The thought brought a warm smile to his face as he finished drying the cups set in front of him. He had just finished having a cup of tea when he heard something in the air. He tilted his head to listen. A starfighter engine. Something old. Not what most modern ship engines sounded like.

He shrugged. This was the Outer Rim after all. Many ships out here were far from what could be considered new. If anything, there were many that were ancient, and their captains barely managed to keep them running. That was to be expected, so far out and away from the main starship companies. Sure, they SoroSuub, but the bulk of the rest of the shipyards were more towards the center center of the galaxy. They ended up with second, third, and tenth-hand owned ships out here. Perhaps it was some new Jedi come to find shelter for a time. He picked up his staff and ambled out of the room towards the landing field.

 

[The Master With No Name]

Shira Varanin Tiland Kortun

Several wayward hyperspace jumps on, the Mistress’ Jedi-Class starfighter burst into real space over a verdant world. An exhausted Chirps whined a few beeps as it once again calibrated the hyperspace engine for another leap. The Mistress however, reached out a hand motioned for Chirps to stop.

“Hold it, Chirps,” she said.

The dome top spun around to look at the Mistress. She had let go of the control sticks and let the starfighter move in inertial drift. Chirp let out some confused beeps. The Mistress did not reply. She instead clasped her hands and lowered her head. The Force swirled around her, the light, and the dark. Then came the whisper. Melodic and warm, like a hot summer’s wind. It blew from the verdant world below. The Mistress slowly released her hands and raised her head to look down at the world.

“The whisper. It comes from here,” she said.

Chirps beeped.

The Mistress laughed, “Ya, no more jumps Chirps. You can rest.”

Pressing on the controls she took the starfighter down into the world. As they passed the atmosphere and down into a grass covered valley surrounded by sharp mountains, Chirps beeped and whistled information into the cockpit’s HUD display.

“Svivren? That’s what this place is called?” the Mistress said, “Never heard of it.”

“Yet this place is alive in the Force, and in the light.”

Passing low, they flew over a young woman practicing the ways of the Force. Or at least trying. Her balance tumbled and so did the rocks that floated about her. The Mistress felt the Force tug her to her. She jerked the controls and pulled the starfighter into a tight turn to spin back to the woman. Chirps screamed. Mistress ignored it. Touching down a few paces away from the young girl, the canopy shot open and the Mistress stepped out, and she walked to the woman. The Force was wild within her. Unmastered but, definitely there.

She stopped a few steps away from her.

“Hello there,” she greeted.

 

[Shira Varanin]

The Master With No Name Tiland Kortun

Shira got up, despite the comfort of the grassy slope, and dusted herself off. She gave the new arrival a visual and metaphysical once-over. Old ship, old armor, general sense of something 'off' but not malevolent: maybe not a pure Jedi but someone to take seriously.

"Hello to you too, and welcome to Svivren." She glanced around. Master Kortun was just coming out of the temple. "That's Master Tiland Kortun - he'll sort you out. I'm just a visitor here most days," she explained. "Shira Varanin."

The Jedi starfighter had to be a good twenty years old. Nice ship, though: the Galactic Republic had sunk quite a bit of money into that model for their Jedi order, back when the modern order had only been around a few years. Before the great schisms, or around the same time.

"Love the fighter. Not the fastest, but those duranium juggernauts didn't need to be."

 

[The Master With No Name]

“Shira Varanin,” Mistress repeated.

Varanin. The name rang in the back of her mind but, bounced between dead end memories. Yet there was a familiarity to that surname. She would have to investigate at some point. But, what was clear, was where the whisper had slithered from. She had first thought it was the world of Svivren itself. No. It was this woman. The Mistress stood quiet for moment, the Force confusing her even more. But, she wouldn’t say much about that now. Mistress knew all too well how it feels to have someone drop out of space and dump prophecy on you. Then Shira made a comment about her fighter and snapped the Mistress from her staring stupor.

The Mistress flinched and looked back to her fighter, “She’s one of a kind for sure.”

Chirps bleeped. Mistress shook her head, “Not you! She meant the Starfighter!”

Chirps cursed.

“Hey, don’t call her that!” said the Mistress.

She looked back to Shira, “You know of this kind of fighter? You are indeed a curious one.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Shira,” the Mistress continued.

“And don’t mind Chirps, she’s nice, once in a while.”

Shira Varanin Tiland Kortun

 

[Shira Varanin]

The Master With No Name

"The Republic's Jedi still fielded these when I was a kid," Shira said. The lack of reaction to her surname put her at ease. "Jedi-class, I think they called them, as if they were the be-all and end-all of Jedi starfighters. Decent little craft, though. I've logged a few hours with similar ships and droids like Chirps here."

She came over and patted the hull near some old carbon scoring. The duranium rang deeply, a subtle reverberation. "This one's in better condition than most I've seen. You clearly take care of your gear, Master...?"

 

[Tiland Kortun]

That was a ship he hadn't seen in a long time. Well, compared to some ships. It amused him how quickly governments were constantly seeking to outdo each other and always improve their starships. An endless, futile gesture. Humble, solid, and workable ones that lasted forever would be a better investment. But nobody could sell that to a budget committee when there was a chance for newer, flashier, allegedly better ones.

He knew Shira, at least slightly. She was a traveler as much as he was, but he had been to Svivren just enough to be considered a local, from what he assessed. Perhaps one time more than the young Varanin. Apparently that was all it took. Amusing. Yet it was the newcomer who most caught his attention. Jedi, certainly, an older one, with history behind her, and something more ominous, like a shadow, following. It would be rude to pry, but it was clear that there was something. In time, perhaps the Force would reveal it. Or not. It was not his concern what the Force did or did not bring about to him.

"Welcome to Svivren," Tiland said as he approached the ship, staff clacking lightly on the ground. "Please, come in and be comfortable. I can set some tea on while you rest from your journey. Is there anyone in particular that you were hoping to find? I may be able to contact them and inform them of your arrival."

 

[The Master With No Name]

Shira Varanin
The Mistress nodded and rested her open palm on the hull. She brushed over the blue and white hull, caressing every bump, dent, and gash along the way. It was as damaged as she was. Scarred and torn. But, a survivor. Just like her. Memories flooded to her, through the Force. The psychometric ripples imbued into this machine and in Chirps spun ancient yarns in the Mistress' mind. Of the Galactic Republic, her Jedi Master father, and the destruction they both suffered towards the end days. She let go and let the memories die. She tapped the hull a few times.

"Jedi-Class is correct, Shira," the Mistress said, conveniently ignoring the question by Shira asking for her name.

"It is a treasure of mine. It was my father's. A great master of the Force. A Jedi General of the old Galactic Republic."

She stopped and suddenly turned to look at Shira. She never spoke of her past and yet to this woman, it all slipped out freely. She nodded and looked to the much older Jedi Master who had approached them.

Tiland Kortun
The Mistress froze for a moment, she became worried. The Sith Virus within her writhed at the presence of a powerful source of the Lightside. Its pain was the host's pain. Her once open palm clenched into a fist as she forced her nerves to fight against the virus' almost sentient rage at the Jedi Master. The master invited the Mistress to join the rest of the Jedi gathered in the enclave. This made the Mistress uncertain of what to do next. It had been years since she had been with more Jedi. Always by herself, in the darkness, in the wilderness of space. So much so that it had become a sort of twisted comfort. Jedi made her nervous. Nervous of what they would see.

She looked back to Shira, "Only if Miss Varanin would accompany me."

Chirps blurted out a growling beep. The Mistress turned her head to the side jerked it towards the crabby RF-P astromech.

"You too Chirps."

 

[Shira Varanin]

Welcome to Svivren," Tiland said as he approached the ship, staff clacking lightly on the ground. "Please, come in and be comfortable. I can set some tea on while you rest from your journey. Is there anyone in particular that you were hoping to find? I may be able to contact them and inform them of your arrival."

"Jedi-Class is correct, Shira," the Mistress said, conveniently ignoring the question by Shira asking for her name. "It is a treasure of mine. It was my father's. A great master of the Force. A Jedi General of the old Galactic Republic."

...The Mistress froze for a moment, she became worried. The Sith Virus within her writhed at the presence of a powerful source of the Lightside. Its pain was the host's pain. Her once open palm clenched into a fist as she forced her nerves to fight against the virus' almost sentient rage at the Jedi Master.

...She looked back to Shira, "Only if Miss Varanin would accompany me."

Shira's mouth twisted: the evaded question wasn't lost on her. Neither was the sudden spike in the physical tells of agitation. She nodded at the nameless Jedi's request.

"Tea and Jedi business sound like a decent evening to me." Though she didn't know Master Kortun much, his reputation for the selection and brewing of tea was downright superlative. "If you need to freshen up, visit the medbay, I can show you where all of that is first. Your call, Master. I'm assuming you're a Jedi Master, whoever you are?"

That maybe came off as just a hint combative - but so did refusing to give one's name when asked.

 

[Tiland Kortun]

Tiland kept his face in check this time. He could sense the distress coming from their visitor. But it didn't feel... normal. Not exactly like one individual. Something about it was familiar, but he couldn't place it. He suspected he had encountered it before, but that helped very little. A thousand years of living and even more different planets? He needed entire libraries to catalog his experiences and memories. Yet she offered no threat and was no Sith. She was odd, perculiar, perhaps, but he couldn't fault her for that. There was no doubt many held such views about him.

"Of course! One can never have too many friends present for tea. I will be in the common room when you are ready." He gave a slight, polite bow as he turned to amble back into the enclave. His other companion seemed to be picking up on much of the same concerns as he, although she was a bit more direct. Or at least, more willing to imply. The truth would come out, one way or the other. He felt no need to push it more than necessary. Not where there was an opportunity to have tea and learn more.

But that was the main question. What tea would be appropriate for the circumstances? Meeting new people, the intersection of journeys, mystery, uncertainty. He tapped his chin. A tea for clarity, trustworthiness, and insight then. He gave a quick nod and hefted his satchel from his shoulder as he took a seat and set the water on to boil before sifting through the herbs he had with him.

 

[The Master With No Name]

The Mistress watched Master Tiland Kortun depart. She stood by Shira Varanin and stewed in her own indecision.

They know. Her mind said. They know about the virus. Do I show them?

Behind, Chirps fired up its small thrusters to leap out of the docking port of the Jedi-Class and land beside the Mistress. It bleeped and whistled as it did so. The Mistress turned to the R4-P and patted its head. Chirps is right. What am I afraid of? Has being alone for so long made me intolerable to my own order? The Mistress looked to Shira and impeded her advance by stepping before her. Time to stop running.

"Miss Varanin, Shira..." the Mistress began.

"I have deceived you," she continued, her voice drowning in a severity that seemed almost brooding.

"I did not accidentally happen upon this world, nor did I come here to connect with the Jedi here."

The Mistress stopped for a moment. Chirps beeped and the Mistress drew in a deep breath, before spitting it out from her lips. She raised her hands and drew back her hood. Then she hesitantly pressed her palms and fingers against the sides of her helmet. The lock was pressed and it hissed as it detached from the gorget plate armor around her neck. The helmet slid off and the Mistress' real face was revealed. Beautiful and bewitching but, corrupted and half darkened by a black Sith Virus that spun webbed tendrils across her face, consuming one of her eyes.

Both the dark and bright purple eye looked directly into Shira's eyes.

"I have come for you, Miss Varanin," the Mistress whispered. "For you and the light which lies within you."

"A power I have not felt, in decades."

"You are a very special woman, Miss Varanin, more than I suspect you may know."

She drew in breath and sighed again and looked down.

"I apologize if this is too much. So I shall try and compensate."

"I will share to you a secret. Just between us, Jedi."

"I have many names, and have been called many things. I tossed aside my real name long ago."

"Ever since, well ever since..." she gestured to the corruption of her face, "Ever since this happened."

"Most just call me Jedi, or Mistress, or Witch, for the uninformed in the ways of the Force."

"But once, I was once Derryna Wraith."

"And I could be again. With your help."

 

[Shira Varanin]

Tiland Kortun The Master With No Name

Shira sat quietly in the grass as Master Kortun's teapot began to give off excessively fragrant steam. She took in Derryna's explanation in comparable silence because she wasn't sure what to make of it.

"I'm not my cousin," she said at last. "I'm just a..." She shrugged. "I'm not. And that's fine. Right now the only thing I can do that isn't straight vanilla Jedi core is...well, would you like to be bound inside a tree for half an eternity by a pretechnological felinoid ritual from a forgotten world? Because that's about all I bring to the table. If you've got more to reveal, reasons you think I can help you, I'm listening."

The tea, admittedly, smelled pretty good.

 

[Tiland Kortun]

The Master With No Name Shira Varanin

Tiland stayed quiet as he sifted through the herbs, pausing to pull a small vial from a handsewn pocket in the corner, carefully padded and wrapped. He took a deep breath, examining it, and unstoppered the cork. "Sith viruses and Sith poisons are difficult, if not impossible to treat. Certainly impossible through any conventional means." Tiland spooned the contents of the vial into mug for their visitor. Master Derryna Wraith. "But you are fortunate, Master Wraith, to have visited while I was present." He pushed the cup towards her. "I have sent centuries studying herbal healing and tea-brewing. This here is the pinnacle of my craft. It cannot heal a Sith virus. It can, however, slow and reduce its effects for a time."

He poured out normal tea for himself and Shira. "And I must say, you have me intrigued. All this talk of cousins and prophecies. Not often anymore that we have family prophecies. Sure, there's the Sunrider girl in the Core, but please, share your story."

Tiland settled himself more comfortably on the chair. "The danger of the Sith and their weapons is to take away who we are. Ever they try to convince their converts that their old selves are dead, when that is not the case. But they are correct. The Sith fear their old identities. Their old stories. It connects them to something beyond the Sith."