Ask Jakku In Times of Darkness, Seek the Light (Flashback)

[Nyx Otsana]

Desert Outlands, Jakku​

Pain. It was all Nyx could register, and that in itself was almost surreal, given she was so inebriated. Not by choice, of course. The cultists leading the ritual had forced it down her, some wretched mixture of sorts; it did its duty, keeping her compliant, yet still sadly conscious. They were doing it again, that forsaken rite.

As was custom for dark followers, Nyx was laid on a slab of stone, like some offering to a god. The space around her was littered with collected trinkets, from fragmented crystals to (supposed) relics of old. Even intoxicated, Nyx still thrashed, her half-hearted attempts doing little to dissuade her captors. Her hands and feet, like always, were tied down. The cultists couldn’t have her moving too much, not whilst applying the last of her tattoos.

The process was agonizing. In slow, methodical strokes, they carved into her, the markings now traversing much of her face. Cheeks, chin, nose, and upper brow, all stained black with the symbols of darkness. She screamed, the colored pigment setting her skin ablaze. Sickeningly, the cultists encouraged her cries. They even praised it, reveling in the sordid noise. Pain was good, pain was a path to darkness and now that she was marked, she was a part of that darkness. Always.

Like the trapped animal that she was, Nyx scratched and clawed at her bonds, her mind growing more feverish as mania set in. Barely conscious, she didn’t even register what had now come into her grasp. It was one of the crystals, pale in color, yet not as vile as some of the red variants. It felt strangely cool to the touch, a shard of ice amongst flames.

No more. Make it stop...help...someone, please...help.

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

Jakku was a terrible place and anyone who said otherwise was trying to sell one of Jakku's three commodities; sand, scrap or sorrow.

But one thing that the planet usually could be relied upon to be was quiet in the Force... in the present at least. Force Sensitives stepping foot on the planet could feel the past and the blood and the sorrow and the excitement and all the rest of it. Sensing the echos of the past like they were some kind of lingering scream wasn't true sensing of the past but on planets with pasts as loud as this one? You didn't need to know the correct technique.

In the present, in the Now, Jakku was damned near silent in the Force because so few people came here. So few people thought that coming to the planet was anything approaching a good idea. Crix himself had only shown up specifically because he knew that it was a terrible place to visit and he was scouting out places to take his padawan.

Which was why he was able to feel the call when it was sent out... and follow it.

The Force wasn't like a Radar with directions but it was easy to follow a cry for help to the source when it was the only real 'sound' in the Force for hundreds of miles at a time.

"Lancer and you prepare for Entrance Number Seven."

His co-pilot and one-time dark acolyte, Sebastian, just scoffed.

"Number Seven? Of course..."

Crix moved to the back of the freighter and held onto the hand-hold at the end of the ramp as it was lowered. Taking a deep breath, he centered himself. Up ahead the freighter opened fired with it's weaponry as it killed it's forward momentum. As soon as the blasts were away, the freighter spun in the air, presenting the open ramp to the wall that was still in the process of falling from the ship-based blaster fire.

Leaping with the Force, Crix soared through the air to land safely as the debris from the blasted wall landed around him. Behind him, Sebastian and Red Lancer turned the ship back around, a spotlight activating to throw him in stark relief as he looked on the scene. His lightsaber rested in his right hand, left unignited for now.

"Hello!" he called out to the cultists and their victim, smirk wide but eyes narrowed, "I'm going to assume the young lady did not give her informed consent for this activity so..."

His smirk became more angular and he ignited his lightsaber blade.

"You're letting her go... now."

@Pam0wl

 

[Nyx Otsana]

It was like seeing the sun for the very first time. A beacon of light amongst all the dark. In her haze, Nyx wasn't exactly sure what this source of light was but it was strangely soothing, even a little comforting. Maybe she was hallucinating again, however this experience was a welcomed one. The growing radiance banished all pain, relieving her of what has so far been constant agony. For a brief moment, she was no longer starving, no longer hurting. She was simply at peace. It reminded her of better times, memories that existed long before all this madness; she pictured Kiffu and her residing kinsmen, the family that had loved and cherished her. These thoughts brought them waves of warmth, their tranquil glow rushing to wash over her; their strength growing stronger and stronger until she was completely encased under its protective shell. She could let go now. She could finally rest, knowing that now the light would keep the darkness at bay.

With that, Nyx lost consciousness.

Understandably, the cultists were less than thrilled. Their horribly scarred leader was particularly disdainful. "Jedi!" He spat. "You dare intrude on these hallowed grounds?!" Feverish zealot that he was, he was near foaming at the mouth. "You are not welcome here! Begone, infidel! Non believer!"

Having invoked the cults' defensive measures, several robed members advanced to slow Crix's approach. Seeing as very few of the followers were actually force sensitive, many resorted to other measures of combat. Armed with a blaster and numerous bladed weapons, three outright charged at the Jedi, blindly slashing and hollering as if they were possessed. Others in the cults watched oon, whilst others chose to flee. The last altercation they had didn't exactly end well.

Still, the leader seemed hopeful. What was one Jedi against many enemies? "You are outnumbered, Jedi! Surrender yourself to the glory of the dark."

@Nefieslab

 

[Crix Aran]

Well.

The woman was out like a light and the people around her seemed to be intent on keeping her with them despite her obvious desire to, you know, Not Be Here Anymore. It wasn’t something he needed the Force to be able to feel and Know on an instinctive level – he had seen people with that same look in their eyes before after all.

The leader started rambling and ranting but Crix really didn’t pay too much attention to his words, but rather his tone. Zealotry was something that you couldn’t just smack out of someone, it was something that was ingrained to a level that he wasn’t confident he could exorcise. Instead he made a mental note to leave them with some licences mental health professionals.

Provided they didn’t force his hand.

Raising his left hand, Crix controlled a gust of wind to kick up some of the harsh sand into the faces of the three who charged at him. Throwing their aim off with the blasters was child’s play once he’d thrown some dirt in their eyes. Moving forward, he ducked under another missed shot before launching himself up, grabbing the cultist by the face with his hand.

“Hi.”

Using the Force to reinforce his physical strength, Crix lifted the man up by the grip on his face before slamming him down on the ground hard enough to knock him out. At the point of impact, he Pushed out with the Force, sending the other two sprawling.

He pointed his lightsaber at the leader as he stood up.

“You really need help.” He told the leader bluntly and honestly, “Like… therapy isn’t a sign of weakness you know? Come quietly and I can get you a nice therapist and a minimum security prison.”

He didn’t like killing or maiming but… sometimes people like this forced his hand.

@Pam0wl