Why Seek the Living Among the Dead?

[Nazo]

VOSS
Nightmare lands

Patience. The ability to wait, to bide one's time in an effort to allow the passage of events for benefit or gain. It took patience when you lived this long, and studied so much. In a journey that had spanned over two centuries and countless worlds in the deep void of the cosmos - the space slug had used this ability advantageously. For years he had waited in silence - only ever broken up by the rare few times that interaction had been presented, or attention turned. Now that the reality or a nexus universe, a parallel dimension of the dead had been discovered did the need to continue in search of more cosmic knowledge rear it's head. That action came in the form of a comet streaking across the jade green and glistening cerulean waters of Voss' external radiance into the outskirts of the Nightmare Lands.


Two Hours Later

Gormak Scrapyard


The well attuned minds of the Gormak species native to the planet had been at war with their nearby opposites for which this planet was named for centuries. Civil unrest keeping both factions at odds with each other had not ceased, even in the presence of the Silver Jedi, this was still a feud, but perhaps not as aggressive of consistent in warring. Separation of the states had formed into territorial borders and kept most of the fighting at bay. With a bit more time on their hands, and talk of expansion being basically void, the Gormak's had used their technological prowess to expand their race into other colonial planets and systems by way of interstellar travel and trade. Granted most of this was doing through smuggling and other more pirate like endeavors, they were still well equipped to leave and return as they liked. This territory blockade however had forced their hand to store all derelict vessels and those completely stripped of useful parts into a scrapyard that was more or less a graveyard for the dead. Durasteel husks cast into massive piles as portions of cruisers, war vessels and smuggling ships peppered the landscape for a few square miles. The forested lands suffered from the metallic waste, but did not spread further than they would allow. It took decades to create such a large scrap heap, but it was contained, and the Voss were not about to try and encroach on their right to form a junk-pile until would adversely affect their own way of living.

What however was on Gormak's useless scrapheap, was another sentient's boon of treasure, or more accurately a buffet. While most any material was as good as the rest, it was the complexity and molecular bonds of metal that were among the favored delicacy for the enigmatic devourer. A careening space cruiser had broken from the orbit of Voss' natural gravity rings and landed well inside the heaps of durasteel and other various alloys rotting in this pile of discarded ships. Inside the transport, the robed figure so curiously fashioned into a monolithic seven foot figure now roamed in absent passion among the thicket of decaying materials. Nazo had drifted once more in his yearnings, having moved from path to path, searching in earnest for a concourse of knowledge that would further intrigue the vastly alien mind of his species. It was this mystery of the Force that permeated his insatiable hunger for understanding - driving him back and forth across the cosmos since his first introduction. The power and possibility locked within such a universal energy both allured and confused the sentient being. His mentors in this Force were few and far between, but all with a deep and rich knowledge he'd sponged off of in every way.

Nazo was in the very least a quandary wrapped in a puzzle. He did not find the mold of the Sith, though most times finding himself aligned with them and moving against them all at the same turn. He was not a major player in the galactic struggle, and ironically though he was mostly a stomach to consume, had none for the political games these bipeds played. There was no depth of desire for unlimited power, or territorial gain. Such games had been played for centuries, and would continue in a never ending, always shifting trivial game. What lasted was knowledge, something to pass along, to chronicle and divine from thoughts and ideas that would unlock new mysteries. No, he was not the usual, and as such very often was out of sync with the current ramifications of actions that other more prone pupils would have understood. Nazo simply didn't care - and his own driving hunger had landed him squarely in territory that had been seized and secured by a faction of light sided warriors. Again, there was little in the way of understanding or concern on that part.

Flowing garments and an unusual headdress bobbed back and forth, while metallic digits lifted panels of metal to study and investigate. Beady lifeless eyes sunk into the porcelain white of a round mask studied the planks until the blackened edges of their frame began to eat away and spread through the material, breaking down the alloys into base carbon compounds that disintegrated until useless ash, only to be swept away by gusts of wind. On occasion, a panel would lift from the rubble or tug from an attachment to a vessel to fly into Nazo's firm iron grasp only to have the process repeat. Just as randomly, he would fling the structure over his shoulder to let it land like a spear slicing into another piece of discarded hull, and keeping it poised there like a work of some abstract artist. This was a prime feeding ground, and it seemed for now that was Nazo's prime purpose. Still, even with such a devout hunger to be temporarily satiated - the dark and corrupt mind of the slug rang out, drawing the darkness of the Force like a nexus of souls, looking for the next opportunity in wisdom.

[member="Taiden Keth"] | [member="Nima Tann"]

 

[Taiden Keth]

The Scrolls of Taiden Keth Entry: #62 One Swords Journey​

​

https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=19&v=Q6h9YkcNjtQ​

Venturing out with his Master [member="Nima Tann"], on one of their growing number of trips planetside, the young Taiden Keth was clad in traditional pure white Echani attire. Hood framing and covering his long silver hair, with a gleaming Keth Echani vibrosword down his back, and polished white leather boots rounding off the attire. The house’s symbol of a golden dragon of rebirth was across the weapon's handle and hilt, old but also such care in its use and cleanliness, that perhaps it worried his Master just how much time and attention went into maintaining his sword. Perhaps another couldn’t understand yet how to an Echani, their weapon was an extension of themselves, especially a Keth Echani trained in the old ways since birth.

His step was gentle, like the man, very much taking after his ancestor Aiden Keth in appearance and manner. He would listen and remain observant beside Nima saying little, for Echani took little from words and everything from action or motion. In their time together Nima had begun to see that in how she was training her student, and for that he was deeply grateful for his Master and his Elders wisdom. The crystal shaper's journey had just begun, at least his heart felt that way, the silver Jedi had given him a home here, and the wilds of this place were becoming valued, treasured pastimes.

Strange that it was he had chosen a manmade location to hunt for his weapon parts, it was simply because this place was so different to the rest of what he had encountered so far. Turning his careful silver attentions toward the junk pile that lay out ahead, they had quite a task, a ship’s graveyard to seek answers in. Not the place most would come to build their weapon of choice, but the place he had felt called to. Little was given away outwardly as he walked, apart from that grace in his movements, considered timing in his approach, rhythm that betrayed his focus on the exact steps of their journey through the junk pile.

[member="Nazo"] | [member="Nima Tann"]​

 

[Nima Tann]

Today, Nima and Taiden were up to find some parts for Taiden's sword, as he requested to search for a long time. She didn't understand why he gave value to his weapon like that, but she respected him, being an Echani, the weapon was like their own body part and to her understatement the sword had a historical value in his family. Nevertheless, she continued to move along with her Padawan through the old metal graveyard, this was a hangar before but it collapsed before the Silver Jedi came in, she learnt some history from her stepfather, and along with the lines. "This area has a strange effect in Force, you can't see the signatures around. So the place is dangerous, don't go there." Yes, what a good girl she was. Well, anyway. That was many many years ago and now she had the power to protect herself, even her Padawan walking beside her.

"Taiden, be careful around here. This place is known for its uncertainty. Keep your hands close to your hilt." She warned him, and examined the surroundings, aside from the fog that was making things difficult to see, there was a bad smell, probably all those metals were doing this, or maybe there was something she didn't see, and this was making her worried. To clear her thoughts, she turned to her Padawan with a smile on her face, trying to give him an encouraging look. "So, Taiden. You never told me about your family before. The weapon belonged to your family, right?" She was pretty curious about him, yes, she would learn about him by reading his mind, but it wasn't the way to communicate, if he wanted to talk he would talk, she wasn't going to push him.

[member="Taiden Keth"] [member="Nazo"]

 

[Nazo]

Spires and towers of metal monoliths crafted in various designs for both aesthetics and versatility loomed in every angle and every vantage point. Light cut off from their threatening shadows cast the ship graveyard into an eerie and desolate ground of hollow sounds echoing off each plank of metal. Occasionally the rumbling of near thunder like quality would wane and wax from another part of a majestic war vessel shifting in the ever settling tide of debris. The air was stale here, and far from the fresh abundance in other parts of a far more rural and natural setting. This land however was entirely unnatural, and reminded anyone who ventured into these metallic catacombs of nothing but death and futility. Anyone that is except perhaps the seven foot individual who was feasting freely on a veritable buffet of food sources.

This was a source of abundant nutrition and sustenance that was going to spoil the space slug something fierce. It reminded him of Raxus Prime, and the nearly unlimited sources of food to which he sought after. Had that dark taint and lure of the Force not called to him so insistently and with increasing ferocity from every would be Master - Nazo would have stayed on such a planet for many more years. Despite the natural hunger, there was another burning in his warped and alien mind, and it sought things not so mineral based. Even the Mandalorian he found on Raxus, or the group he saw slain on Korriban were of little concern. The strange and ubiquitous powers of the Force were a mystery beyond armor and honor, and it was that thirst that kept him on the move.

Like living tendrils, the clawed and razor sharp digits of his right hand slid along one of the abandoned hulls that protruded from the ground at a menacing angle. Metal on metal caused an awful screech to shred through the air and bounce back and forth violently around the mixed up deposits of fuselages and pilot pods. The frequency and depth of the scratches varying little as the swipe across the primary buffing panel lasted but for a few harsh seconds. Languid movements continued then to carry the near marionette like figure through the heaps of wreckage and ruin picking up more bits of metallic delight to break down and devour. Nutrients from the molecular makeup combined in chemical attrition to render the metal into an ashen carbon state, breaking apart and falling to the graveyard floor, stripped of everything that had once made it sufficient for building. His path aimless, but his mind attuned, searching for both hungers to be satiated this day.

__________________________________________

Meanwhile Near Taiden and Nima
__________________________________________


Further within the maze of mechanical devices and wrecks, sounds carried of two other sentients stepping gingerly upon a carved path of their own design. A very different and unique purpose in their minds, as they approached in concord determination. Basking in what was a game at first, the large and curious eyes of the creature darted back and forth before a tongue protruded to lick across one of the tinged and rusted surfaces before a shake of the creature's head offered consolation it was disgusted. Quick twitches of it's reptilian body moved back and forth until the skittish behavior of the Gizka bobbed up and down making quick work of the debris. Despite the massive landfill of junk metal, there were on occasion some morsels of live insects skittering back and forth.

One such catching the every watchful Gizka's eyes and putting it on a direct course with dinner. In a moment of loose footing and greed, a pile of dislodged metal unearthed a small avalanche that caused the lizard like creature to tumble unceremoniously directly into the path of both the Echani and his Twi-lek Master. Pigmented in dull shades of red, and spotted with even brighter scales on it's back, the variant Gizka toppeled end over end before righting itself with a vigorous shake, taking the moment to scratch it's side with one of his talon like feet before an inspection of the new strangers in it's vicinity. The curious head tilt and low chortle from ti's throat emanating both inquisitive fascination, and suspicion.

[member="Taiden Keth"] | [member="Nima Tann"]​

 

[Taiden Keth]

“Yes Master.” Nima was Taiden’s elder a mark of traditional Keth Echani respect he had given to two Jedi in his short time at the temple, Matsu Ike and Nima Tann. So when an elder gave a command, he followed almost without question, right hand moving above his back. Some thought the back sheathe impractical compared to the hip, to an extent it was slower to draw, but added to his own fighting style.

“My family Master.” Taiden didn’t visibly show much emotion, if anything his steps became stronger, as if there was a lot of emotion buried beneath the surface of her padawan, unexpressed. “Keth are from the wilds of Wodenstam, studying there and then the baobab archives. My family line has many warriors in it. They achieved much on Thyrsus and elsewhere over their lifetimes, with many Jedi or wandering healers and warriors in their number, until an exile.” It was almost like reading from a textbook or the archives, because that is what Taiden often did in his spare time, a student of history.

How did you say, until an exile built up your people’s hopes as much as Raien had, and committed such atrocities all the in the name of helping them, burning their then homeworld Thyrsus in the process, “damaged our name.” Echani reserve framed his expression, so much unsaid, only his steps increased in pace to betray the resolve he had. “I will reclaim it,” and so the youthful over eager Taiden Keth had taken his family’s ceremonial sword for his own. Such a simple view of events from a young mind, his old teacher and friend Manu Xextos had tried to talk him out of it, to no avail yet.

Metal spires stretched up, Echani eyes reading it as terrain rather than appearance, motion and movement all that was scene aside from landscape, or connecting points to defend or assault. The Echani could smell the fumes of this place, the stale air, and considered turning back, why he did not know, perhaps [member="Matsu Ike"] ’s beginner’s lessons into the living force were telling him this wasn’t the place to enter.

Insects, he saw them clearer than fog lights cutting aside difficult weather, the rest dull to his eyes and motionless, but movement of insects and scurrying creatures were bright as day, running his eyes to the locations of their origin as they scattered. A falling creature caught his eyes and he braced his stance ready, hands tensing around his weapon, the Echani studied the falling beast with interest.

[member="Nazo"] | [member="Nima Tann"]​

 

[Nima Tann]

"Such a good family name goes to waste for someone's one mistake. The story is very familiar to me." The family name Tann was associated with crime and dark forces, so she could understand him pretty much. And being the only person who walks the path of light in her family, they were pretty much sharing the same, unlucky fate. "Well, as your Master I will help you do whatever you need to do, it's both my duty and you deserve this so much that I want to help you. And I know how it hurts to be alone in your journey." Then continued their way along the graveyard, she started to feel uneasy as they continued though, as if there was something watching them... and it wasn't good news.

"Taiden, there is something..." Suddenly shocked from the falling creature, her hand immediately went to her lightsaber, activating it and moving in front of her Padawan in a defensive manner, it was the reflex that defined her as a Jedi. To protect, to become the shield, without any second thoughts. The creature was growling, and it was struggling to get up. Well, both of them knew that if it stood up there would be a fight, if they didn't act carefully. "Be careful and stay in defense. We don't want to make it angrier." This Gizka was somewhat bigger than an ordinary one and it looked pretty hungry, its' eyes glowing red, probably hungry for blood and they were lucky that it didn't catch them in surprise.

Directly looking into its eyes, she wanted to show it that they weren't easy prey. This tactic would work on wild beasts, if they found something that's stronger than them, they always choose the easy way and run. She hoped that this situation would be like that. And this meant... There would be something else that they had to be careful for, if it could surprise them that easily... Then this little journey was far more dangerous than she thought.

[member="Taiden Keth"] [member="Nazo"]

 

[Nazo]

Of the population of ubiquitous creatures that covered the girth of the Galaxy proper, the non-sentient Gizka was probably the most commonplace in their species and grouping. Known across the stars to spacers as one of the hardest infestations to get rid of due to their high breeding habits - it was almost assured if you ever saw one, there was a whole gaggle not far behind. Aside from their ability to multiply in numbers that could make even the lightest smuggling job practically unbearable - there was little danger to anyone but an insect or cache of ration packs. Two bisected legs, a stub for a tail, and a face that was either all mouth, or all eyes (depending on your perspective), they were often regarded with a sense of slight amusement, or mediocre tolerance. The fact that this one was larger than most, and sported a brighter array of colored scales on it's back was really the only thing out of the ordinary to note. Due to such a high concentration of these creatures, the normal skittish behavior of wild Gizka was a thing of the past, as they had become rather acclimated to countless sentient species within the cosmos.

A diminutive gaze of glossy eyed curiosity peered back at both the Echani and Twi-lek, cocking it's head to the side. The pink muscle of it's tongue darted out to lick across the left half of it's mouth, offering a double blink to their pause in movement. Talons normally used for a firm grip and steady balance rose to remove an itch from the right side of it's mass. The Gizka only given a slight warning growl as it had been basically dumped in front of them had now moved into a mellowed yawn of sorts. Movement of the feet came next in short and sporadic hops, back and forth while it seemed to treat the presence of both Nima and Taiden as nothing more than static obstacles on which to scurry around in attempt to find the insects it normally would dine on. Truth be told, the only curious thing about this Gizka, aside from it's less than commonplace appearance was the mind of the creature. While not sentient, through the Force it's behavior was more erratic, and seemed to be metaphysically tethered to something else on this planet; something dark. If the Gizka species could even foam at the mouth, it might have been, for the creature was quite literally mad - if not currently (for the most part) docile.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Elsewhere in the Scrapyard
___________________________________________________________________________________

[media]https://soundcloud.com/surrealsadi/mussorgsky-a-night-on-bald[/media]


Within the distant shadows climbing and scraping the sky with shapes forged by men and women into majestic and space worthy fleets, a fortification of a tower like obelisk rose back lit against the moon's ambient glow. A collection of derelict wrecks had seen fit by either design of happenstance to converge into such a structure, giving a jagged shadow on the full moon's radiant glow. It was on this pinnacle however that movement became evident. A shadow dancing across the surface of the moon's white sand exterior. The backdrop to a dance of sorts as one long figure garbed in what seemed to be flowing garments and a semi-circle of a headdress twisted and bent it's form this way and that. Like some morbid marionette, the figure leapt and spun, it's limbs moving akimbo to the beat of some unheard orchestral piece. In essence it was actually a very lively rendition of conducting a symphony. Whatever the intent however, the very image of the flailing figure was nothing short of ghastly in this setting. Slowly, the movements began to call forth other shadows to play along it's maddening game. Smaller shapes, attached by nothing more than the air they moved through began to flick about around the figure, shifting back and forth and encircling the dancing shadow at it's own behest.

Nazo was in his element, and in what was his own style of panache and style was selecting the best and most delectable of meals. Perched high on the outcropping of ships into a makeshift platform, his metallic limbs were calling the scraps of alloy rich food about him. Something akin to a tornado affect, but far less violent or encompassing. Occasionally throughout this silent midnight ballad a scrap would fly through the air and twist until it sunk against his chest while the rest continued to dance. While others would look at this like some mad wizard controlling the fate of these war torn relics, this was in fact a full service buffet coming to slate the hunger that was a constant burning for his species. Calling the dead and lame from the graveyard of ships to become prime feeding ground in a twisted display of what normally could be called 'wizardly' to the less inclined and more barbaric of cultures. Likely as it was for him to be spotted by the two wandering Silver Jedi, he was probably the pinpoint of shadow against light that was drawing the gaze of a few natives of the planet as well, but from a much further distance. It was however the Gizka down by the two travelers that was seemingly more transfixed by the image, causing the lizard to abruptly stop it's hunt and gaze longingly at the shadow the danced in the moonlight.

[member="Taiden Keth"] | [member="Nima Tann"]

 

[Taiden Keth]

“There were many mistakes elder, far too many.” Taiden quarter bowed toward her comforting words, his walk becoming yet more direct and purposeful as he thought upon the past. Silent attentions given, his posture was readily accepting of her kind words, and he visibly showed he took comfort from her guidance.

Mirroring Nima, “Yes Master.” Taiden kept his hand by his sword hilt but stayed non-threatening, raising his posture to a good height to appear as large as he could be, unaware that the creature was deranged. It was a natural instinct of spending so much time in the wilds for him to respond this way. Predators or other creatures often took posture as a key signal to either attack, or withdraw, so his was open, honest but prepared.

Defensive as Nima had asked for, but calm and reserved… then he saw it.

However simple a creature their new arrival was, the Gizka and Taiden shared something in common, they both stared up. Motion, students and acolytes of direction, the journey, Echani communicated through such. The sight above him, had Taiden transfixed the same way. Not as an image, but a trajectory, poetic as the imagery was, his race instead read where something was going, and flux of the shadow’s uncertain heading was what had him transfixed. Tricks of light and sound, the dull visage of the dead motionless graveyard around Nazo, heightened the Echani’s focus on the motion of what he essentially saw as paths of shadows crisscrossing. A path of absent light seeking a destination which was impossible to determine, but nevertheless predestined. Chaos you might say.

Chaos, and for the first time he’d seen it moving. His Master might tell he was almost transfixed, deciphering what it all meant, and so he lessened the grip on his weapon hilt...

[member="Nazo"] | [member="Nima Tann"]​

 

[Nima Tann]

"You'll make them right. I know you will, you have a good teacher, after all." She laughed, giving herself some credit but it was mostly sarcastic. She never liked her fightstyle anyway, she was more like negotiatior type. And he was an Echani, a fighter, a warrior from the first breath. Yes, he had a bad family history, but one man would change everything if he wanted. "So, we'll talk about it more later, I want to now concentrate on that gizka." She was still holding her lightsaber close to ground but ready to swing, knowing that the gizka were vicious creatures that always surprised their enemies and jumped. But this gizka wasn't a common type in here, so there must be someone else, that they had to be careful about.

She watched the gizka's movement just as her Padawan did, looking for any weaknesses, any movements, any change of breathe rates. If an angry gizka attacks you, you would know it before it attacks, they never concealed their intentions, not that good of a predator but still a formidable one. Chaos, was upon them. She extended her free hand towards the beast, to apply Beast Control and make it calmer. The Jedi learnt those skills for those kind of situations, she always wondered where she would use it and it was the right time, appearantly. The Gizka's mind was a difficult one to crack, but she had to try anyway. And there... suddenly, some kind of silhouette... caught her attention. A tall, dark figure in the light, which was covering the identity of this visitor, Gizka suddenly getting calmer and looking at the shadow in the distance, eyes transfixed and the heart rate coming back to normal.

She then turned to her Padawan, who seemed out of it, trying to understand the movement around but getting careless about his surroundings. "Taiden?" She said, her eyes still on the shadow, which was standing, like a statue. Just the image of it was making her shaky, but she had to stay strong, she had a Padawan to protect. "Taiden! Don't lose the interest of your surroundings. Control, not be controlled. Get a good grip of your lightsaber and stay behind. I'll try something." Try something? More like direct confrontation. You can't attack who you can't see. "Is the Gizka your friend?" She called to the mysterious figure. "Call it back and we'll leave here peacefully." She was direct, brave and on the point. This didn't mean that she was taking the situation light though, more like, direct confrontation with him would be a little... problematic.

[member="Nazo"] [member="Taiden Keth"]

OOC: So sorry for the late responses, I'm a bit busy these days and trying to get the replies as fast as I can

 

[Nazo]

Within the panoramic scope of circumstance and situation, the events within the last few moments had decidedly shifted the cause for concern and interest. The Gizka, though a variant strain, was no more looking for violence than were it's natural cousins. Their docile behavior was so commonplace that interaction with sentient life was almost always ignored, if not looked on with some mild curiosity. Danger and threat was not a perception the species had, nor had it evolved to gain it. While other creatures that would prey on the lizards could rile them and force them into flight or fight responses on instinct, the motions of the Silver Jedi meant nothing to the Gizka. The previous growl had only been let loose from the startling tumble it had taken, being forced into the Jedi's path by a miniature metallic avalanche of it's own misstep. Assuming that this lizard was anything of a threat was rather incredulous, as they had no abilities arming their reptilian form in any sort of combat or danger to those larger than the bugs that constructed a majority of it's diet. There was however a deeper danger that would have gone unnoticed and undisturbed until a single act triggered a chain of events to shift the paradigm.

The touch of the Force, a soothing wave of communion between sentient and non-sentient life attempting to sway the instinct driven mind was the catalyst to change. An immediate flash of resistance cast back a few scattered images of the mind meld that existed between that of this red and pink reptile with a figure cloaked in hues of purple, gray, and red. A stark white mask with two beady red eyes burned out in a flash of images before the Gizka shook it's head and body, to turn it's gaze in fixation upon the macabre figure upon the pinnacle in the distance. What was just a moment in time for Nima (while sufficiently potent) could not compete with the time spent in Nazo's presence. For over a week, the enigmatic figure had slowly and purposefully gained the trust and loyal devotion of this Gizka before them. Even since then, the telepathic force-born bond between them had grown stronger. Attempting to dull the senses or change the instinct of this creature would require a lot more work, and more time than the Silver Jedi currently had uninterrupted.

High atop the makeshift mountain of metal, the figure against the backdrop of moonlight paused his manic like motions. Debris of metal that had been orbiting his figure also fell with a distant clanging noise carrying across the chasms. The voice of the Twi-lek carrying like an echo soon after only enhanced the attention given. Once an attempt had been made to hack the mind of this creature, Nazo's own perception shifted and focused on the two nearby his reptilian familiar. The shadows encompassing him stilled, as the fabric of his coverings once again stilled from his movements. Silence reigned, echoing back a void of reply, yet the intent of the stare from such a distance was piercing - only accentuated by the lifting of a single hand and digit to point in accusation down towards the pair of Jedi. While normally uncaring of the purpose of others, finding their methods crude, and mentality stunted with meaningless actions - there were some Nazo would not ignore.

"Fetters destroy freedom, unbound once broken -- liberated." The voice did not call audibly, echoing not through the graveyard of ship-wide canyon formations. This voice, was instead telepathic in nature, calling to both the learner and teacher alike. A mixture of tones, one of demonic bass, and the other of childlike innocence, wrapped together as an unsettling message communicated over the distance and span. The exact meaning of the unusual statement was left up to the imagination, but Nazo was always quite cryptic in his musings. Anyone who had encountered the strange and rather alien heritage of his species knew that the thoughts of such a creature were highly irregular, and were often the subject of philosophical debate. Add that with the touch of the dark-side and what you got was normally rather maddening confusion.

[member="Nima Tann"] | [member="Taiden Keth"]

 

[Taiden Keth]

His Master’s reassurance helped, it always did, because he considered her an elder and listened to obey her commands as such. “You are a good Master, because you are here,” and that made all the difference in the world, being there to be counted was worth all the force tricks in the world. Especially as she advised him to not lose his focus, drawing his silvery eyes back to the gizka, and moving his hands back on his weapon hilt.

The Echani’s attention was heavy, like his namesake Keth, deep and often consuming, pulling it back instead to the surroundings, he took a side step the opposite way from his Master, a tactical move within the arc of the combat circle that Keth studied. The combat circle being the two of them, the Gizka and the shifting form above. So named because Echani lived and communicate through combat, not a battle, a language.

Telepathic chaos entered his mind, sadly taiden had no ability yet to shield mental attacks, but Echani took so little from words. Maybe if the speaker used motion, or imagines of a journey in his communication he’d sway Taiden more. Such things were probably betrayed when the other being tried to contact Taiden’s mind, because Nazo might sense this indirectly. What happened was a slight discomfort and confusion settling in the Echani’s head, as the words could not be arranged in a pattern he understood, but beyond that not much else.

“Master I feel… disorientated,” unsure of his path, which was corrected sharply, mildly annoyed with himself, taking another step the opposite way from Nima off to the side. What this was doing though is making it harder to focus on both Jedi for Nazo, and enlarging the combat circle for everyone, intentionally so as he felt more distant, communicated emotion in posture and spacing.

[member="Nima Tann"] | [member="Nazo"]​

 

[Nima Tann]

"He's trying to make you confused. Think something else, Taiden. Don't let him enter to your brain." He was out of it, the eyes transfixed on the shadowy figure and the gizka. Sudden headache hit her, she heard a voice, well, not a voice like, more like whispers of different kinds. He was trying to get in her head too, possibly try to learn about them before the inevitable. She heard what he was saying... And didn't understand a word, the message was pretty cryptic. Freedom, broken, liberated, fetters? What was he talking about? They weren't prisoners or something like that, they didn't need to be liberated. She shook her head, letting him go no further. "And you are our liberator, I guess." She asked, how philosophical he was, she was the opposite, direct, and blunt. But she could play his game. Both Gizka and Taiden seemed like they were not there, both looking directly to the figure, carefully.

And she examined her surroundings, looking at her Padawan, he did move backwards, away from her and still confused. What was he doing? The words didn't mean anything to him, he was just... She didn't understand, maybe... There was something wrong with her as well, careless. The whole time she was directly open to attacks, and she didn't even realize, as soon as she came back to her senses she took more defensive stance. "What are you doing here? Show yourself." Then she spoke to her Padawan's mind. "Taiden, listen to me, not him." She added. "If the things go worse, I want you to make a run for it and call for help. But I need your help here. Control your mind, and focus on my movement." As an elder, she had some kind of authority on him, so he would listen, wouldn't he?

She could sense the disturbance in the area, the appearance of him made something else awake in here, and it was nothing good. Well, she hoped that this confrontation wouldn't last much longer, else they would need to deal about more than one situation.

[member="Taiden Keth"] [member="Nazo"]

 

[Nazo]

Truth be told, an attack of the mind was far from the actual pathway that Nazo was carving. For a species with such an abstract language, understood by none other than his own kind, and the rare technology that could make sense of his musings - he didn't have much choice. Telepathy was a needful thing, and while his esoteric vocals were something of a caustic and troubling mix, aside from the art of pantomime, it was his only means of communication that didn't require direct contact. Perception again was a key trait, and while Nazo's presence here had already unnerved the travelling Jedi - his intentions were still as amicable and nonchalant as they ever were. A creature whose responses to the manners of humanoid sentients were often chaotic and misunderstood - he still found interaction an appealing trait on a needful basis. For a good majority of his life up until a couple of years prior, he'd been shaped into a rather compulsive misanthrope, without the desire to truly connect, or the means to do so. Until the Force's dark nature called out to him and showed him a pathway to something greater. Without that spur and motivation behind it, he'd have been just as content to sit and watch as his kind normally would be found doing.

A shift of movement from the silhouette high on the lofty plane of metal came in response to the challenge that echoed back and forth among the massive debris field of derelict vessels. For a moment a thoughtful pose was struck, something he'd seen a dozen times over, and would mimic to reflect his mood. Nazo was a perfect mimic, but in his mimicry there was oft a layer of deception that was well concealed. The liberation of a single sheet of beat up metal was lifted from the ground at his feet, and hoisted up before him. Examination and contemplation happened for a brief respite before his hands as just elongated shadows forcibly bent the metal into the desired shape before he turned and let it tip forward over the bow of the vertical ship's edge. Tipping a foot forward, the figure vanished from sight in an instant as the dark shadows of the graveyard eclipsed the falling form. Not falling however as much as careening towards their location at break-neck speed. The signature sound of metal scraping over metal as the sheet of durasteel was used as a make-shift sled carrying the seven foot frame down the side of the ship and towards an incline to which both rider and board shot off like a rocket. The board itself sailed through the air, while the heavier form of Nazo dropped from the peak height. Large sections of his robed figure spread out like a glider slowing his decent. An echoing thud resonated as he took purchase of the ground a few yards away from both Taiden and Nima.

Head bowed, form crouched, and yet there was no sound. No breathing escaped the porcelain mask for it needed no oxygen to survive. Instantly the Gizka who had watched him bounded happily over to the figure rubbing it's reptilian body against the crouched form, letting out a muted sound of reverberating affection. Slowly, the mask rose, leveling two beady ruby like eyes on the pair of Jedi in his path. A tilt of his head, shifting into a nearly seventy degree angle and then back the other way accomplished while he rose. Seven feet from head to toe, and undefinable for what exactly it was. Nima had asked a question, and up until now she had not received a response. Silence continued to grow to a level unbearable for the less patient while his attentions seemed to be diverted between the Twi-lek, her Echani padawan, and his own Gizka. Finally though, that voice echoed against to both of their minds.

"Conversion."

[member="Taiden Keth"] | [member="Nima Tann"]

 

[Taiden Keth]

The Scrolls of Taiden Keth Entry #63 Strangers in the lands of metal and fallen star dreams.

Taiden heard Nima, or rather saw her as her words meant less, he saw her stand firmly and started to draw from her direction, shaking his own head clear, and holding his ground. What was he doing, drifting, unbound from his sense of duty? He pulled his focus back to order and where he belonged, by his Master’s side, edging back toward her. “I apologize Master,” the young Keth said little else but felt the disappointment of dishonor that he’d been led so easily, clearly evident in how he tightened his posture uncomfortably, making short sharp steps.

Focusing on his elder, on his duty, was however the first steps at defending himself from mental attacks, even if just unintentional communication here, which would prove valuable in the future for Taiden.

Nothing if not patient when faced with the prospect of a new discovery, Taiden had never seen a species like this, he could not help but be enraptured by the possibility of discovering more about the source of this new motion. Though the telepathic voice was this time met with a more concentrated focus, he was still as eager as ever to learn more.

“I believe they wish to converse Master.” A keen voice stated the obvious stepping forward, “I am Taiden, son of Keth of wodenstam, padawan of the silver Jedi order and echanshal of Thyrsusborn.” Though the last title left a bitter taste in his mouth of late, a warden for a planet that hated him, meant he rarely visited. “This is my Master Nima Tann.” Taiden bowed respectfully to Nizo, eyes open and as equals, then eyes closed bowed to Nima, showing how much he trusted her to silence his vision.

[member="Nazo"] | [member="Nima Tann"]​

 

[Nima Tann]

"Just be careful and stay close to me. No apology needed." She gave an encouraging smile and then returned her gaze to the creature that was all phylosophical. He was talking with them yes, but his words were confusing, as if they meant something else than intended. But Taiden was almost sure that it wanted to speak, and he was an Echani so if he wanted to attack he would sense it, so she dropped her defence a little to give him room, but not that much to make herself completely defenseless. "If you think he wants to speak..." She stopped there for a second, her eyes fixed on his Gizka and possible aggresive behaviour.

"Let's talk then." She approved with a nod, and let him know that they wanted to speak, not attack. She waited for Taiden's introduction. "Daughter of a Silver Jedi and... yeah you got the drill." She didn't have much titles like him, just a Knight of Silver Jedi and that was all. His family was interesting so after this confrontation she would want to learn more from his history, beside of his ancestor being evil. She hoped that he wanted to talk, else this all thing was just a waste of time.

Besides, an attack to the mind wasn't a good way of wanting communication, but this universe had so many creatures in it so maybe it was the way for them to talk. For all the Force she knew only a little, being a Knight didn't mean that she learnt everything.

[member="Taiden Keth"] [member="Nazo"]

 

[Nazo]

Lanky, tall, and completely mute. The stoic regard of an unmoving mask responded with nothing. Not an utterance, for Nazo had no ability to make a single noise in and of himself. Vocally deficient, yet he could speak volumes in so many other ways. Arms stilled at his sides, while the Gizka about his feet pranced about uncaring of the two individuals who had called down Nazo from his pinnacle above. It was more concerned with the grubs and insects it could find within this massive ship graveyard. Nazo however was less concerned about speech as the apprentice had incorrectly assumed. Nazo rarely held conversations without a point of interest, and even when he did, they were quite enigmatic and caused a lot of trouble for less inclined minds to decipher his meaning. Being misunderstood was his hallmark it seemed, and while he didn't mind the confusion he so often put into people's minds, it did cause him to be a bit more misanthropic. Point in case was this attempt at making small talk - and Nazo apparently wasn't interested in engaging at the current moment.

Social queues and behavioral study were his wheelhouse, and while the Echani had experience in understanding movement and position, when faced with the motionless seven foot statue before him, it was doubtful he'd read a single notion. The Force however was certainly not slumbering in this interaction, for it radiated from the strange creature. Not in a sense of power or grand connection, but simply the presence of it, connecting him to the entire gamut and scope of their surroundings. The dark side tainted Nazo, clung to him like a glove and warped his perceptions in ways that were selfish and abstract. He wasn't as malevolent as other practitioners of the dark shade of the energy construct they all held to. Nor was the creature bloodthirsty or enraged at a moment's time.

There was something else about him, something universally darker, a polar opposite to the light side in terms of conscious thought and desire. There was a great darkness in Nazo's mind and soul. His cravings for knowledge were not unlike the light side or other factions of the Jedi Order. Except that in this search for knowledge it had become more than desire, it had become lust. Consuming, overreaching, and unending. Specifically what both the Twi-lek and Echani could grasp from this aura about him was one solitary thing; hunger.

A slow tilt of the porcelain like mask, into a nearly ninety degree angle speaking to the flexibility of this current specimen. A trait Nazo had seen in many animals, and had assumed it would also apply to the bipedal sentient species. It only made him look stranger while he inspected both in quiet scrutiny. His curious nature had reached out, looking for something unique among them, something he might learn. While this wasn't altruistic, or even necessarily a healthy level of interest, it was still an interest in knowledge. Previously worlds away he'd done the same with a museum guard, to watch what would happen to his eight pints of blood as it ran by gravity alone into a basin that had been hand sculpted. Violence was never the issue, it was just a means to an end. But what exactly did Nazo have in store for them? He was still coming up with that part as they stared at each other in a silent standoff. One thing was clear here, Nazo had come here to eat.

[member="Nima Tann"] | [member="Taiden Keth"]

 

[Baalagor]

There was another traversing through the scrapyard, following that cloying darkness that seemed to permeate the very air itself with a sort of heady perfume, one that was unable to be easily diffused. It wasn't altogether dissimilar to that of those similar Syala had encountered before, though this one was perhaps a touch less volatile. There was a sort of refinement about it, though it still held a sort of instability in its own right. Just as any other that claimed the mantle of the dark she first assumed them to be foe. Not many that traversed Voss - or most any Jedi at all, for that matter - held such a darkness within their hearts at this. Only one moniker was synonymous with this: Sith.

Her last encounter with one of that Order had been in a scrapyard as well, the experience less than pleasant. It was that which had resulted in her blindness and the scarring around her eyes, both signs of the hardships she had endured and her determination to press on no matter the circumstances that befell her. It took courage for her to simply enter this place, let alone think of crossing one of the Sith again. Still the memories of her previous fight clung to her subconscious like a fog that was slow in leaving, one that wouldn't be driven out even by the brightest light. But it was a necessary evil if she was to remember just what she was fighting for. It was these danger she willingly faced so that others wouldn't have to.

There were no signs of other Jedi nearby, meaning that either this one's presence here hadn't been noticed, or that anyone that had endeavored to deal with the threat had been dealt with swiftly. That meant it fell to her to contend with things. It wasn't something she necessarily looked forward to, but just as anything else it needed to be done, lest the rest of the Silver Order suffer the consequences for her intentional leniency. And so she pressed on, her steps slow and careful as they always were, an unnatural aura of calm surrounding her, one that tended to put off most darksiders.

The Force guided her where physical sight failed entirely, allowing her to gain a deeper perception of her surroundings, one that went far beyond the surface. The individual that had been identified as holding that dark signature as their own was close nearby, that much was certain, seemingly idle in their preoccupations. Nothing about their presence in the Force immediately stood out, and if it weren't for their being on Voss, a planet inhabited primarily by Jedi, she likely would have taken longer in pinpointing exactly where it resided. After all, the galaxy was filled with all manner of sensitives that followed the Force in millions of different ways. One decidedly darker in nature wasn't something entirely unusual given that simple divide in traditions. However, the Jedi tended to be a touch more restricted, even those of the Silver Order.

Slowly she approached them, able to tell from her ethereal senses alone that they weren't on ground level but rather perched somewhere above. For a moment she remained decidedly silent, allowing the other to study her while she did the same. The hood of her robes remained raised, lightsaber at her sight. No movements were made towards any weaponry, and for all intents and purposes this appeared thus far as a peaceful conversation. For her own part she wouldn't make a violent move unless provoked, and even then it would be entirely in self-defense. Never had she been an explicitly aggressive individual, nor would she begin now. Instead she settled for the spoken word. "What is your purpose here?"

[member="Nazo"]