The sky looked red. Fires burned across the cityscape, normally stretching in vast impressiveness as far as the eye could see. All Thorn could see now was chaos; carnage. Fires raged and smoke billowed from crevasses leading down to the lower city, joining with black gushing soot from once majestic towers high above. Water spurted from broken pipers, wreckage teetered and crumbled as tentative survivors tried to find sure footing back onto safe areas.
The scene before him was unbelievable, the young Dark Jedi had never seen such destruction with his own eyes. Yet in this instance it was not the war, or the force under the power of a great tyrant that had brought this to a region of Taris, but accident. It had been commercial station in orbit, used for a multitude of amenities, from repair and refitting of personal ships, to housing vast shopping centres, restaurants, bars and entertainment complexes, to one of the most novel and more expensive hotels 'on' Taris.
The warnings had come through only minutes before it happened, the city had no chance of evacuation. A malfunction in the stations systems had caused it to be manuevered out of its stable orbit and into a position where it had plummeted down to the planet. Engineers and pilots had done their best, but as the gargantuan station feel it had broken into pieces and now littered an area that must have been almost over ten kilometers in diameter. And yet the edges of that area were not safe, for the Tarisian Upper City for a further surrounding distance on all sides teetered, it's support struts shattered where the station had crashed.
Witnessing it had been terrifying and exhilerating. Cars and ships were knocked out of the sky by falling debris, and the entire city plunged into chaos. Which complicated things for Thorn. He was on Taris to take care of a mission for his masters, and now his target, and his ride off the planet was buried somehwere in the middle of the carnage. He sighed through the material mask that was pulled up to his eyes under his hood, part of his standard black dress, also including boots, trousers and a sleeveless leather jerkin. His lightsaber hung at his belt, and his arms were adorned only with black vambracer-type wristbands and fingerless gloves.
It was in situations like this that Thorn found himself in deep wonder at the galaxy. Yet he remembered his lessons at the temple. He had no idea now where to go or what to do to ensure his safety long enough to get off world, and his target was surely lost. So he simply decided to follow his first thoughts, his instincts taking him towards a creaking and groaning tower building, smoke rising from cracked windows and girders sounding as if they were going to give way. People screamed from the upper levels as fires crept towards them, trapping them. Innocent people. Victims of an accident, a horrible coincidence. Or if Thorn was feeling particularly pious, an act of the force.
He may have been a Dark Jedi, but that did not make him inherently evil. He had no hatred for these people. And nor was he instructed to look upon them with hatred. He did not even think twice, breaking into a jog, his footfalls light as he approached the building. He ran inside.
The scene before him was unbelievable, the young Dark Jedi had never seen such destruction with his own eyes. Yet in this instance it was not the war, or the force under the power of a great tyrant that had brought this to a region of Taris, but accident. It had been commercial station in orbit, used for a multitude of amenities, from repair and refitting of personal ships, to housing vast shopping centres, restaurants, bars and entertainment complexes, to one of the most novel and more expensive hotels 'on' Taris.
The warnings had come through only minutes before it happened, the city had no chance of evacuation. A malfunction in the stations systems had caused it to be manuevered out of its stable orbit and into a position where it had plummeted down to the planet. Engineers and pilots had done their best, but as the gargantuan station feel it had broken into pieces and now littered an area that must have been almost over ten kilometers in diameter. And yet the edges of that area were not safe, for the Tarisian Upper City for a further surrounding distance on all sides teetered, it's support struts shattered where the station had crashed.
Witnessing it had been terrifying and exhilerating. Cars and ships were knocked out of the sky by falling debris, and the entire city plunged into chaos. Which complicated things for Thorn. He was on Taris to take care of a mission for his masters, and now his target, and his ride off the planet was buried somehwere in the middle of the carnage. He sighed through the material mask that was pulled up to his eyes under his hood, part of his standard black dress, also including boots, trousers and a sleeveless leather jerkin. His lightsaber hung at his belt, and his arms were adorned only with black vambracer-type wristbands and fingerless gloves.
It was in situations like this that Thorn found himself in deep wonder at the galaxy. Yet he remembered his lessons at the temple. He had no idea now where to go or what to do to ensure his safety long enough to get off world, and his target was surely lost. So he simply decided to follow his first thoughts, his instincts taking him towards a creaking and groaning tower building, smoke rising from cracked windows and girders sounding as if they were going to give way. People screamed from the upper levels as fires crept towards them, trapping them. Innocent people. Victims of an accident, a horrible coincidence. Or if Thorn was feeling particularly pious, an act of the force.
He may have been a Dark Jedi, but that did not make him inherently evil. He had no hatred for these people. And nor was he instructed to look upon them with hatred. He did not even think twice, breaking into a jog, his footfalls light as he approached the building. He ran inside.