Star Wars: The Curse Of Qalydon

A long time ago in a galaxy far,
far away...

Dusk fell on Coruscant. The sun sank steadily below the distant horizon, the last of her waning light retreating up the sides of towering skyscrapers which had stood tall and proud for thousands of years, pursued by shadows which rose from the city’s depths like the tide of some black ocean. Soon the cityscape would be entirely submerged by the shadows, and then the last of the twilight would fade into blackness as night took hold.

On other worlds, planets less developed than this one, this would have spelt darkness absolute save for whatever flickering sparks of illumination the distant stars might shed. But on Coruscant, the heart of galactic civilization, true night was a phenomenon that had not been seen for countless millennia; and as the sun retreated, the city came alive with a million points of light—speeders and fliers darted through the traffic lanes like convoys of fireflies, flitting between the window-studded spires of office buildings, shopping malls and apartment complexes. Life never stopped in Galactic City; even with the passage of day into night countless billions of beings went about their business, as they and countless others like them had been doing since time immemorial.

You would hardly think, from watching the daily dramas of the planet’s inhabitants unfold as the stories of their lives played out, that a war was going on. That said war had been raging, on and off, for longer than a great many of these people had been alive—before several generations of their ancestors had even been born, in some cases.

But they knew. That much was obvious from the climate of fear which had settled over the planet. Oh, they hid it well, but to those sensitive to the Force, the eddies of dread and unease which disturbed the normally calm waters of that mystical energy field were all too apparent. Much as they might wish otherwise, the billions of beings who called Coruscant home knew that the peace they enjoyed was a fragile thing; that the Sith War which plagued the galaxy was not as distant as they might have preferred. The Sith Empire now covered a vast wedge of the known galaxy, squatting between the Corellian Run and the Perlemian Trade Route like some malevolent arachnid and stretching from far-off worlds in the Outer Rim all the way to Inner Rim planets like Antar 4, Manaan and Zeltros; Republic fleets had blockaded many of the hyperlanes in order to keep the Sith in check, but even so this knowledge could not prevent many a fearful soul from casting a skyward glance from time to time, as if expecting a fleet of Star Destroyers to suddenly materialize in the skies above.

On Coruscant such fears might have been unfounded, for the galactic capital was protected by the strongest planetary shields in known space and guarded by the Republic Home Fleet. But in many other parts of the galaxy, the sudden appearance of an Imperial fleet and the devastation which followed were very real threats. And, if the rumours of Rath Skorrow and his bid to become Dark Lord of the Sith were true, even Coruscant might not be safe from the Sith for much longer…

It was for that very reason that Jedi Master Narob Kavril now stood just outside the blast doors leading to Docking Bay 94, one of Galactic City Spaceport’s many thousands of berthing chambers. The High Council had chosen him, along with several other members of the Order and a number of specialist operatives—some affiliated with the Republic Military, some independent—to be part of a special task force created for the purpose of tracking down Skorrow and assassinating him. It was not a task which the Quarren Jedi Master found particularly agreeable, though he understood his necessity; without a Dark Lord to rally behind, the Sith spent just as much energy fighting each other for dominance as they did fighting the Republic—more, in fact—and during these times of infighting the Republic was granted a much-needed respite. When they were united by the central leadership that only a Dark Lord could provide, however, the Sith became a nearly unstoppable force of death and destruction—and while the Republic and her Jedi allies had always managed to beat them back in the past, their victories had always come at great cost.

The last being to claim the title of Dark Lord of the Sith, the Dark Underlord, had been slain seventy-five years before. The Sith Empire had been largely rudderless during that time—and Narob Kavril saw no reason for that to change. Without a charismatic figure like Rath Skorrow to lead them, the Sith Lords would go back to the squabbling and infighting which had been their undoing so many times before; it would not bring an end to this war, but Skorrow’s demise would certainly make that day come sooner.

And so Master Kavril stood outside the docking bay, awaiting the arrival of the strike team’s other members; within was the ship that would carry them all into Sith space, serving as their home and base of operations for the foreseeable future, though he himself had not seen it yet. Hopefully the others would be there in a timely fashion—the sooner they were all present, the sooner they could be on their way…

Nog Slurrn arrived taking in the sight of the Quarren Jedi. He nodded curtly but did not say a word. He wasn't particularly fond of the Jedi. Or anybody, for that matter. But the Republic was paying him well enough so he would tolerate him.

"Master Kavril!", rung a filtered voice. Before the wizened jedi would have to turn his head, a man adorned from head to toe in a heavier variant of the standard Republic military armor had jogged to his front. On his back was slung a massive canon of a blaster, longer than some boys were tall, and an also inordinately large blaster was holstered into a large belt wrapping his waist.

"Lieutenant Abe Guillman of Special Assault Unit Six reporting for service." His right hand met his head in a salute. "My superiors assigned me to supervise field operations and represent the Republic in any subsequent diplomatic efforts."

A red-tinted protocol droid approached the blast doors of Docking Bay 94, its arms at the right angles most droids defaulted to, its legs moving in a clunky half-shuffle. It stopped, turning its head to analyze those gathered by the door as it glanced at each with its red eyes.

"ZR-4M: Organic-Android Relations," it said - thrice. Once in Quarren, and again in Basic and Shistavanen. Then it resumed speaking in Basic, "Ready for service: As you can see, my translation routines and vocoder are fully operational."

On the eve of the mission, Jedi Master Daren Alon Karn sat alone in one of the many meditation chambers of the Jedi Temple. A last chance to come to peace with himself, prepare himself mentally, emotionally and spiritually for the mission to come. One last time to feel the warmth that was the Force as it resonated in the spirit and hearts of hundreds of Jedi.

And at the same time... A most wonderful opportunity to try for the last time the technique he'd been mastering ever since he knew of this crucial mission. Thus after a few moments, the chorus of peace that was the Force within the Jedi temple lost a single voice in its harmony.

Content with the result, Daren opened his eyes and then marched to his chambers in the Temple. After changing out of his Jedi attire and into some simple trousers, shirt and boots he recently asked an old friend to obtain for him, the Master walked to the mirror on his bath to inspect himself and brought his hand to scratch at his itchy, new beard. Simple measures he had taken to alter his appearance, but every little thing helped in the Jedi's mind. After he was satisfied, he put on a practical brown robe over it all, not one from the temple but a similar garment also bought by his associate in the outside markets. Every little thing helped.

As the time to gather on the Docking Bay approached, Daren wondered for a moment if he would have time to have a chat with the young Calamari initiate that had just arrived that week... or maybe have one last cup of tea with Master Arrendar to see what insight his last meditations had brought him.

Unfortunately, time was growing short... so Daren simply resolved to make his way to the Docking Bay and with some luck he might run into someone on the way to converse with.

And as it was the chatty, jovial Jedi Master always found someone to have some interesting dialog with.

"Ah if it were a matter of diplomatic efforts, Mr Guillman" says Daren as he pats the man on the shoulder, a friendly smile on his face "One must never underestimate the power of the word... though given your heavy garments, I'm suspecting you agree that it might not be words which bring us safety in this mission"

He then turned to see the protocol droid "Oh most opportune. See if you can prepare some beverages while we wait for the others to gather around ZR-4M, tea if possible"

Then the Jedi Master's bright eyes found Kavril and he gave him a polite bow, holding a fist inside his open hand "Master Kavril, I'm glad for the opportunity to serve with you. May our mission bring a bit more of light into this, our beloved Galaxy"

Nog Slurrn growled at the new arrival. Two Jedi in his proximity were two too much for Slurrn. He was tempted to start a brawl with Karn but decided against it. He might be able to beat a Jedi on a good day but he couldn't take that chance that he would lose. For whatever Slurrn wasn't, he was a proud Wolfman. So he just spat at Karn's feet and turned his back towards him.

Master Karn raised one eyebrow at the actions of Nog, though he soon smiled again and turned to face the Shistavanen man "Now I met a Shistavanen man before, though I'm afraid he never mentioned if spitting at one's feet has a different meaning in the Uvena Systems. If I have given you motive to be offended by not addressing you before, good man, it is because I believed from your demeanor that you wished not to be engaged in conversation"

"This unit currently has no access to drink-mixing peripherals," said the droid. "This unit will attempt to purchase," it played back the drink order in the Jedi Master's own words, "if the honorable Jedi would provide it with his credit chip."

edited 6th Nov '12 7:03:17 PM by nman

Nog scowled. "You think I want a righteous freak like you Jedi scum addressing me? I don't even want you to be in my presence!" Nog growled. "The only reason I'm even working with you bastards is cuz the Republic is paying me enough to retire." Nog finished as he turned his back on Karn again.

edited 6th Nov '12 7:04:01 PM by FantasyLiver

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edited 6th Nov '12 11:13:38 PM by Icarus24

Nexel could not help but go over his situation as he sat in the hover taxi. An assassination attempt on the Sith Lord ascendant, Rath Skorrow. He recounted what happened back at the Battle of Corbos, his first battle with a Sith Lord. Powerful masters of the Dark Side of the Force, to whose hand he would have died had his master not been at his side to cover him.

He shuddered at the thought that his old master will not accompany him on this endeavor, but he wasn't going on such a high-risk mission alone. This mission was dangerous and important enough to warrant several Jedi Masters as well as bounty hunters and droids. His determination was tempered. Failure was not an option.

"We're here." Said the driver as the taxi stopped. They had arrived at their destination, Docking Bay 94, and Nexel could see his soon-to-be companions in the distance. Without a word, Nexel stepped out of the taxi and handed the driver a chip. "Thanks!" said the driver as he drove off, and Nexel walked toward the direction of the crowd. He wasn't too close to them, but he could already hear raised voices. Either someone was too excited for this mission, or there was already some bad blood forming in the team. It was certainly not a good omen.

Nexel walked up to the crowd and gave a bow as he introduced himself. "I presume this must be the strike team. I am Jedi Knight Nexel Korseez, it will be my pleasure to serve with you on this most important mission." He raised his head and turned to the two Jedi. "You must be Masters Kavril and Alon Karn. I have heard about your many endeavors. It is my honor to have the opportunity to serve alongside you." He said as he gave another bow.

— A robed and hooded figure ambled its way across the space port docks, a large crate following them on repulsorlifts, the soft six-timed footfalls faintly audible to those with sensitive hearing. The weather-beaten robes covered every inch of the figure, and the sleeves were brought together to conceal its hands.

Once close enough the figure lowered its hood to reveal chitin-plated features and keen, glistening black eyes. The robes were thrown back and adjusted (without motor input) until they became more like a cape, billowing behind the Krevaaki Jedi in the wind. He looked to each member of the team with a nod, save for the protocol droid (whom he only noted with a quick glance).

He spoke in a deep, flanging voice that combined reasonable youth with experience. —

" I am Griz Moaak. I believe you wanted an demolitionist on your squad. You will have that. You will also have a Jedi poking critique at other Jedi. Just in case this mission needed academic debate on top of saving the Galaxy."

edited 7th Nov '12 10:17:39 AM by Colonial1.1

People have always seemed to have this strange belief that good and evil must be stratified. Light and dark, purity and filth, exemplars and undesirables. Two separate sides, never to meet in the middle, and never should they cross. Serfs do not walk amongst kings and emperors don't converse with thieves. Anything else is considered dirty dealings. Which is why his appearance was incredibly... odd.

Bounty hunter Vekis Thorn. His presence was not so much intimidating as it was eerie. He was hunched over, almost as if he walked carrying a shell on his back, and he wore enough rags to cover five men. He spoke to no one, simply proceeding forward, his many layers of cloth and clothing fluttering in the winds of the upper atmosphere.

Pausing at the protocol droid, he stopped to stare at it for a moment, before withdrawing a credit chit and slipping it to the droid, signaling he wanted a drink. The wrapped man left the encounter at that, and boarded the ship.

edited 6th Nov '12 8:55:44 PM by KSPAM

"If I might speak, Jedi." Abe said. "It would seem you've hit the mark pretty damn hard." This was no platoon. No squad. It was a caustic gaggle of blasters and high explosives, ready to go off at any time. He surge of data flooding his optic interface on this team only confirmed that. He wasn't even sure that he wouldn't have to put the wolf-man down in the next few seconds.

He confronted the obstinate alien. "Are you going to have a problem working alongside Jedi, soldier? I'm no fan of force use myself, but If you can't reign yourself in..."

"You may always speak, Mr Guillman. However I too wish to reply to our companion's feelings" says the Jedi before he turned to the Wolfman and replied to his words.

"Then that must be an incredible retirement, my good man. I don't know if you were aware of it, but you shall be traveling in a small ship with numerous Jedi, for time untold on which we all, Jedi, Soldiers, Mercanaries and Droids alike must depend completely on one another in order to survive" says Master Karn as he slowly outlines his point "I don't doubt your skills as you caught the eyes of the Senate, however if you cannot stand meters away from two Jedi without feeling the need to spit on the floor, then how do you plan to cope with such an arrangement?"

After that he let out a small breath and looked sympathetically at the wolfman "I know not which grudge you carry against the Jedi, but you must know that neither I nor those of my kind wish you any ill or discomfort" He said, letting the matter rest there unless the Wolfman decided to continue the argument.

He then cheered up a little at the sight of Moaak "Ah Moaak, it is always entertaining to be caught within one of your debates. Hope you will indulge me with some conversation during the long hours within the emptiness of space"

Then he turned to the newly arrived Jedi Knight and smiled at the man's manners, bowing his head to him as well in greeting "My pleasure as well to travel and rely on you on this mission, Knight Nexel Korseez"

The Wolfmen softened. While all Wolfmen were gruff, Slurnn's hatred towards the galaxy stemmed from his abusive father and years of mercenary work. "You can depend on me during this mission. I have no love for any of you Jedi but I'll work with you as a mercenary until this mission ends." Slurrn addressed the Jedi less harshly than before and let the matter drop.

Then a young woman fully encased in armor except for the helmet with the iconic T-visor carried under her arm. Slung over her shoulder hanged a very large bag and in the free hand was another bag carried. "Kal Res reporting! Just show me to the armoury to I can prepeare my stuff!"

And just like that, they started popping out of the woodwork. Master Kavril returned the Shistavanen's curt nod with one of his own, then turned his attention to Guillman and the protocol droid. "Very good, lieutenant," he said in Basic, his words deep and burbling slightly as if he were speaking underwater. "I am sure that your talents will come in useful during our mission. As will yours, ZR; a great many races inhabit the systems and clusters which make up the Sith Empire, and not all of them can speak Basic or Huttese."

He fell silent then as the other members of the strike team began to arrive and converse with themselves, sparing little more than respectful nods to Master Karn (who he knew only by reputation) and Knights Korseez and Moaak before examining the other members of the strike team with a mild frown. Far be it from him to question the wisdom of the Jedi Council, but this was certainly an eclectic group that they had put together—a Shistavanen mercenary with rather intense antipathy towards the Jedi Order; a Gray Jedi with a penchant for explosives and a tendency to wax philosophical on his particular views of the Force whenever the occasion arose; a bounty hunter so heavily swathed in rags and clothing that, had Master Kavril not read the dossier and seen the picture, he would have thought this being just an overdressed beggar who happened to stumble upon the docking bay; and now the latest arrival, a Mandalorian woman carrying two large bags of what he assumed was her equipment.

And this was only the tip of the iceberg, for several others had not yet arrived.

He had a bad feeling about this...

The Quarren's brows furrowed as he noticed that the strike team was beginning to draw inquisitive looks from passersby. "If I may," he said, raising his voice to be heard. "Perhaps further discussion should wait until we're safely behind closed doors; there are many eyes and ears in spaceports, not all of them friendly."

And with that, Master Kavril turned to the control panel set into the doorframe and punched in the access code which Grand Master Tharrus had given him several hours before. The blast doors separated with a hiss of hydraulic pistons, sliding back into the walls to reveal the strike team's transport. To put it bluntly, it was a piece of junk—a dilapidated Class 180 freighter, its paint faded, its hull pockmarked by countless micrometeorite impacts, its chassis laid out in such a way that it resembled nothing so much as a giant metal chelonian basking in the fading light of the setting sun. The only visible armament was a single laser cannon turret mounted over the cockpit module, and while aerodynamics hardly mattered in starship design she appeared slow and ungainly.

"So this is the Aluminum Falcon," Narob said after a moment, his tone skeptical. "I suppose the name fits."

The ship's access ramp was already lowered, as if waiting for the strike team to board. Seeing this, the Quarren nodded in satisfaction before turning to face the rest of the group. "All right, then; I shall wait out here to greet the stragglers. The rest of you, get your gear stowed away and get settled in; once the entire team is assembled, we'll meet in the ship's lounge to discuss our course of action."

edited 7th Nov '12 8:39:36 AM by SullenFrog

The sound of more footsteps echoed across the room, shortly followed by a somewhat sheepish looking Fein Bast as he walked briskly toward the assembled strike team. He had expected many things, but not quite anything as peculiar as this. Briefly raising an eyebrow in amusement, he made a beeline toward the Quarren Jedi Master. Bowing slightly, he said, "I apologise for being late. You know how the Coruscanti traffic is, and I was having a little trouble finding my repulsorlift skates."

Fein's main concession to the realities of the mission was the light armour that he was wearing underneath his robes; otherwise, he was wearing the same clothes as always. He wondered to himself how subtle their group could really be if there were this many coming along, and some of these people didn't look too trustworthy either. But this was war, unfortunately, and the Jedi Order and the Republic needed every advantage they could get. For that reason alone he would tolerate their presence.

edited 7th Nov '12 8:42:47 AM by Flanker66

Nog Slurrn was the first on board and hurried over to the lounge to sit and brood. Hopefully, the mission briefing would be just that; brief.

The bounty hunter, if the moving pile of clothing and rags could be called such, moved slowly, shuffling into the lounge area. An attentive few could probably notice the wayward glances the bounty hunter cast towards the various Jedi as he walked past, but most would just chalk it up to unintelligible shuffling of cloth, not fit to be called body language. He took a silent seat next to the wolf man, keeping to himself as he prepared to take off.

"Understood, Master Kavril." Abe said curtly, with a nod. It was clear that this wasn't the best time to voice his opinion that they were all going to die horribly at this rate. Fortunately enough, his trooper helmet provided the simple accessory of hiding his anxiety and general disappointment at their accommodations.

He made his way into the lounge, sitting opposite the twitchy wolf and the anthropomorphic rag-pile, and began applying subtle facial gestures to request any information he could find on the two. If there was any luck, his holo-net interface would pull something useful up, though he wasn't expecting any luck with the ragged man.

The Wolfman looked at the two individuals who joined him. These were people he could respect. While they were both human, at least the bounty hunter looked human, they were like him; soldiers and bounty hunters not some namby-pamby Force-using philosophers. And while Abe had rebuked him for his aggressive words towards the Jedi, Guillman was entirely justified. Though the Jedi were scum in his mind, Nog shouldn't have criticized the leader of this expedition. At least not openly. For now, like it or not, the Jedi were Slurrn's boss and he was going to have to respect. He decided to be a bit more social than he was used to and asked the bounty hunter and the cyborg what battles they were in.

Seeing that the Jedi had ignored him and for some reason the bounty hunter had seen fit to leave the droid alone with its credit chip, the droid closed its hand to hide it from the others nearby, interfaced the chip to a port in one of its fingers that was running shells of dummy operating systems and protocols, inserted a few viruses onto it, as it walked onto the ship.

Finding its way to the lounge, it spoke to the bounty hunter. "This unit could not determine what operation the bounty hunter wished it to carry out with his credit chip." It dropped the chip onto the seat next to the bounty hunter, as it took a step back towards the wall where it intended to stand until the briefing was over.

"Well the drinks will have to wait, ZR-4M. With some luck there will be some tea stowed within the ship" says the Jedi Master as he glances at the ship.

He knew how to pilot all sort of spaceships but still, Daren did not much like space flight. Oh the traveling part of it he liked, it even was a nice experience by itself to soar the skies in one of those wondrous machines. Indeed, in a completely safe galaxy Master Karn would probably be able to say he loved space flight. However, a safe galaxy this was not... and much less the corner of it they would be heading towards. The thought that they would be depending on this piece of engineering to survive... it felt, to a certain point, like the Master was handing his fate over to it and the pilot. No matter how much the Jedi Master trained, his experience or his might... one shot that did too much damage to the ship and they would all be dead.

It was a chilling thought and thus one he tried to forget as promptly as it came to him. Though looking at the crew, the group of mercenaries and even his fellow Jedi he spotted another thing which might become an issue. Still, he would wait until debriefing to raise such a matter.

For now, he located the wheeled contained which held the possessions he had requested from his contact and then dragged it inside the ship, deciding to settle on the crew quarters to Starboard.