Jedi Mission: House of the Rising Sun - Don't Bring Me Down

[Philosoraptor]

Ord Mantell - Mahashi Space Port - Early Afternoon

Weize stepped off the transport and onto Ord Mantel’s surface, taking in the pungent smells of the junk world. He’d lowered his hood revealing his mask covered face. The mask protected him from the most egregious of odors. The starport he and his companions had arrived at was under the control of the Black Sun Syndicate – the main reason they were here. Thankfully, they’d been able to maintain the appearance of vagabonds, travelers, and simple folk looking for opportunities. Nobody had given Weize a hard time during the journey.

It was the early afternoon, the middle of the work day – frigates landed in unoccupied bays and landing zones while shady characters solicited their captains. It didn’t appear as though slavers were around, but they likely utilized private landing pads just in case someone got heroic ideas. Then again, this was a hub for illegality, there may not have been anyone with a heroic bone in their body here. That is to say, are there any heroes in these trying times?

Weize silently stepped forward, his long hair blowing gently as a breeze picked up. Before him, a large, beefy humanoid was making a squealing sound as he pointed at large cargo containers being lifted and moved about. To the left of that, two Zabrak men were in the process of securing a deal of some kind. And to the right, Black Sun Syndicate flags could be seen flying high on top of the space port’s main entrance.

He looked to his companions, having only met them briefly prior to their assignment to this particular mission, and having made little small talk during the transport. He kicked a small rock away, finding himself not used to this kind of planet – rust, junk, dirt, and foul odors. “I assume we don’t just go in and ask them politely to stop?” Weize asked with a sarcastic tone. He found it difficult to speak, a past incident having left his voice box damaged, though it had been fixed. The mask he wore was ornate, and gave his voice an added roughness when he spoke. In addition, it helped him breathe and talk. Many were not used to seeing such a mask as his, and he hoped saying something with a little bit of humor involved would make him less suspicious to his fellow Jedi.

So much was going on around them, the space port was sensory overload – but this was not the worst he’d ever experienced. It was merely annoying.



@Valen Pelora​

 

[Valen Pelora]

For the thousandth time Alexia adjusted her mask. The simple creation mirrored that worn by the Temple Guardians. She had been advised time and again it would be wise to continue wearing the mask. A few Jedi knew her true identity. Her capture had been embarrassing. She had been taken to Lothal in secrecy, and no one besides her guards and integrators had known. Alexia’s redemption was arduous. It took weeks to peel away the rot of the Darkside. Slowly, she was finding herself. Slowly, she was finding her footing. Corvo had permitted her to accompany General Singh to Sullust. That had been her first trip from Lothal. It had gone surprisingly well. This was her first unsupervised trip. She was just one of three Jedi. Nothing special. Nothing unique. Alexia was only doing her duty.

The mask brought her security and comfort. She knew the looks that would come when it was taken off. Already there were whispers around the Order. She knew the rumors spreading across the Empire. In time, when she was ready, she would reveal the truth. For now, she was just enjoying being Alexia Morr. The stench of Darth Adava was not clinging to her. She stepped off the ship into the rancid air of Ord Mantell. Signs of the Black Sun waved across the port. The gang was like a plague festering on the planet. She wore simple ragtag clothing, her hood pulled up to hide her mask. Two cyan Lightsabers hung concealed at her waist. Alexia’s fellow masked Jedi waited and made a quick remark. She smirked, smiled, and laughed.

“You could ask politely, we would return your body to the Temple.” She had dealt with the Black Sun for a number of years. They were as effective as they were brutal. This would be no easy task. “Where is our third?” Alexia turned to look for their third companion. She had spent the entire trip in her cabin, avoiding contact with the other two. @Philosoraptor @Fyston

 

[Fyston]

The overhead lights had been dimmed, though the miscellaneous lights throughout the cabin tormented Celtar in more ways than one. Aside from seemingly glaring directly into his skull, it reminded him of the last time he had had his own cabin. Since that battle, Celtar couldn't sleep or get comfortable on ships and, if he managed to fall asleep, always woke up in the throes of a nightmare. When he wasn't on a ship, he could avoid the visions with alcohol, though his mind wouldn't let him use his vice as an escape when he was surrounded by all of these lights.

Fed up with attempting to rest, much less meditate, Celtar swung his feet from the side of the bed and attempted to stand in time to be jolted back into his rack by the force of the vessel landing on Ord Mantell. Great, we're here, thought the Knight as he stood with the grace of a dying gromflomite. His belt was heavy from the assortment of weaponry and, more importantly, the presence of enough alcohol to make a Corellian cringe. Celtar took a swig or, rather, a large drink from a bottle next to his bed before grabbing a few morsels of food from the tray.

The Knight only made his comrades wait a few minutes before walking off the ship. While not stumbling around like a drunkard, as he had learned how to walk, talk, and fight while drunk for the most part, he was far from the poised General he was in his past. Where he once wore the robes of a Jedi, Celtar was clad in the garb of a slaver, his lightsabers seemingly worn as trophies and a wide brimmed hat keeping the sun from his face. He glanced at his comrades and shook his head, the glow of his cigar moving tantalizingly through the air. "What the kriff is up with masks and hoods nowadays? You can't hide forever." As he spoke, the Knight burped repeatedly, the stench of alcohol wafting through the air after each belch.

Speaking of hiding, something felt odd about one of his fellow Jedi. In the past, the Knight would have been able to pinpoint what it was immediately, though he could only nail down a feeling of familiarity or, at least, unpleasantness about one of them as if he had known them at some point. Shaking it from his mind for the moment, the Knight spoke again. "Anyone have any smart ideas on how to do this quickly? I vote for killing the leader and stomping his lieutenant's heads into the dirt under our boots. It'll show we mean business and that, if they value their lives, they should stop whatever they're doing." The Knight spoke like the General he once was, a commanding voice rife with psychological warfare and tactics that won wars, not the goody-two-shoes that many Jedi preferred. He'd received a few stern talkings to, though Valen wasn't here and he couldn't care less about the opinions of anyone else.

 

[Philosoraptor]

Weize smirked underneath the mask at the intoxicated Jedi’s comment – giving a soft chuckle that turned into a cough. That was normal for him, coughing was something he was plagued with due to the accident as a teenager, but it only hindered conversation, something he had trouble with in general. Weize simply nodded to the man, acknowledging that the masks were, indeed, overly mysterious at times. “If I take this off, I’d likely pass out because my diaphragm doesn’t open properly. So, sadly this will be on for the duration of our working relationship.” He smiled, looking around to see what was happening in the port.

Weize looked at Alexia, his fellow masked companion. Something wasn’t completely right about her, though he could not place it – it may have simply been Weize’s uncertainty about working with these new people, though he did not feel the same unease around the drunk of a Jedi. “Well, I’m not sure we were given a specific plan,” he said softly, coughing inadvertently before continuing. “Such aggression is not usually met with praise from the Order, though I can hardly blame you for frustration. Try to calm yourself, friend. Mayhap we scope out the place first and find their weak spots before doing anything rash?”

Weize was never placed on direct attack missions – he was almost exclusively used for stealth and recon, which he preferred. There was something lackluster about going gung-ho and bashing the enemy’s teeth in. Weize enjoyed the subtle, manipulative approach. Though, he knew not what his other companion, Alexia, would prefer as a course of action. “Alexia, do you have any ideas?” He asked softly.

The oafish man that was squealing earlier was now lifting up a panicking dock worker, presumably he’d done something wrong or aggravating. A container had crashed into the side of a wall, possibly damaging its contents and certainly damaging the wall. Further beyond, Black Sun guards could be seen patrolling the interior of the port, likely weeding out any spies or hindrances to their operations. Weize only saw four, though he knew there’d be more elsewhere. They were not overly large, though packed some heavy fire power. Weize looked back at his companions, his arms hidden in his robes as he waited for their plan to come together.
​

@Fyston @Valen Pelora

​

 

[Valen Pelora]

She was a Sith again, laughing at the utter failure of the Jedi. The arrogant fool in charge of the Jedi’s defenses had wildly overestimated his cunning. He had paid with the lives of thousands, and nearly his own. The face of Celtar Xyton was plastered across the Empire. The face of the failure of the Jedi. The face of a fool. General Xyton had become Jedi Xyton. Alexia had spent many nights laughing at the incompetence of Celtar Xyton. She was a Jedi. Now, she stood faced with that very man. He smelled of alcohol and the Force seemed to stagger around him.

It was a strange feeling. If she removed her mask, Celtar would know her. Of that she was certain. Alexia doubted the disgraced Jedi held much love in his heart for the redeemed Sith. She was not ready to show her face to the Jedi. She was not ready for what would follow. Alexia knew Celtar would never forgive her for what she had done. Years of alcohol abuse had not made the former commander less bold, only stupider. She fought to keep the venom from her voice.

“Sadly, my mask is only for show. Not all of us are so brazen Xyton.” A small frown creased her lips beneath the mask. “Weize has the right of it. The Black Sun are brutal monsters, brutality will not quell them.” Alexia’s frown deepened. “I would have thought you knew better. General.” She should not have said it. She knew better, she could not stop herself. Alexia had changed but one thing remained true. She could not abide by the foolishness of men. Their duty was to protect those who could not protect themselves. To right the wrongs, she had so carelessly committed. She could not do that with a stumbling drunken fool at her side. @Philosoraptor @Fyston

 

[Fyston]

As Weize finished explaining the necessity of his mask, Celtar gave an almost imperceivable nod as an indication that he understood. He didn't quite care as a person's stance, the way they stood and carried themselves, told him more than enough. Years of honing his fighting style leant itself to picking up on subtle cues, those typically missed by those unfamiliar with the Echani. He frowned slightly as the man suggested subtlety and sneakiness, an art long since lost to the drunken Jedi.

He was in the midst of a long swig from one of his many flasks when his other companion spoke. The fact that she knew his last name almost made him spit out his whiskey, though his trained facial muscles kept the oaken nectar from being spewed into the air. Few knew he was alive, fewer still would know his name unless they knew and recognized him from his days as a General. As he replaced his flask on his belt with one hand, the other held his cigar with just enough force to keep it from falling to the packed dirt below. Had he been drinking, however, Celtar would have likely lost his drink when the tiny female quipped his former title. Instantly, the Knight flashed back to the last time he had been called that title.

Shortly before his exile or, more specifically, minutes before, the Jedi Army leadership had called him forth to answer for his crimes. Grand Master Anileen Dray sat directly across from the door, her eyes drilling into his as he entered. Generals Valen Pelora, Kenneth Garfield, and Lanna Singh were present as well and Celtar felt the disappointment radiating across the room as they reviewed his failures and discussed how best to punish him. One or two wished for expulsion from the Army, though they finally settled on reduction in rank and exile. He was regarded as General one last time as he was stripped of his authority and placed into exile before being escorted from the room by his oldest friend.

Celtar flashed back to the present, silently musing that his oldest friend was the leader of the Jedi and that, had it not been for that demotion, he might be on that council as opposed to receiving snide comments from an Initiate he didn't even know. Anger flashed in his eyes as he glared at the woman, his hand subconsciously placing itself on the hilt of his crossguard lightsaber as he heard the tone in her voice. "You will watch your tone, Initiate, lest I secure you in the ship for the duration of this mission." Within an instant, however, he looked away, his eyes and body language demonstrating that he was a broken man. "Since you want to play it safe and I want to play it loud, how about we compromise? I'll play the bait and cause a commotion while one of you locks down the spaceport and the other coordinates with local law enforcement to ensure they can maintain control of this area after we are done." While enterprises like the Black Sun were difficult to remove, once you ensured that it would be more profitable to stay away, they would likely not return. As he waited for his comrades' opinions, he took another swig from his flask and puffed once again on his cigar.

 

[Valen Pelora]

She laughed. Oh, she laughed like she hadn’t in a very long time. The thought of Celtar trying to pull her into the ship was simply too hilarious. She had renounced her dark past but she had hardly forgotten how to fight. Her skills with a blade were as sharp as ever. Alexia would not draw on the Darkside. She was still dangerous with the Force. Drunken disgraced Celtar Xyton was as likely to defeat her as a ten-year-old boy. She barely heard the rest of what he had to say. Some dribble about a compromise. She was happy to let him risk his life. Maybe, he would even lose it. Alexia had to make sure he knew what she thought of him.

“Oh my, secure me in the ship? How frightening.” Her tone was acidly playful. She pointed at a toddler waddling beside a mother. “The kid might be more your speed.” Alexia laughed again. She knew she should not antagonize the disgraced General. She could not help herself. It was men like him who had allowed the Empire’s unchecked rise. The defeat of fools fed the faith, a vicious cycle. She could have a little more fun before they split up. “I’ll secure the spaceport.”

She began to walk towards one of the landing exits. She assumed there was a central control station somewhere. She should be able to lock down the port from that station. The mask would probably draw unwanted attention. Alexia removed her mask and clipped it to her belt. She turned to wink at Celtar. “Don’t take too long dear.” She guessed Celtar might recognize her. He could make of it what he would. She slipped her hands in her pockets and sauntered off towards the exit. Her heart started to race. She was nervous. @Fyston

 

[Fyston]

Celtar couldn't help but roll his eyes when the Initiate replied, though he did spit a ball of mucous at the ground near Alexia's feet to signal his disdain for her. He took a drink from one of his many flasks and continued to drink as he seemingly stumbled around uselessly. In fact, he was using the reflection of his flask to get a count of the civilians, employees, and Black Sun members in the area, though he also simply enjoyed drinking.

The Knight almost inhaled his drink, however, when she took her mask off, revealing the face of Darth Adava. The Knight managed to avoid drowning in alcohol and swallowed the now-burning liquid before coughing slightly. His face contorted into that of rage and he felt his senses sharpen, slightly defying the alcohol dimming them. How the hell can Valen let the Sith spy on us, thought the Jedi as he watched the Sith put her hands in her pockets. With his left hand, he drew his blaster pistol and leveled it at her back in one smooth, quick, practiced motion. By the time he fired, she would be unable to draw her lightsaber and deflect the bolts and, while she could dodge them, Celtar would be ready with follow up attacks wherever she went. A tiny voice in the back of his mind, however, reminded him that only scum killed an opponent while their back was turned when said opponent had not attacked.

Out of the corner of his eye, Celtar saw the form of a Black Sun member approaching him on his left side, likely due to the fact that he had drawn his pistol in one of their areas. "Drop the pistol or you die," started the gang member as he pointed at the Knight, though Celtar had had enough. He swung his left arm around, catching and controlling the outstretched right arm of the Zabrak, Celtar's blaster pistol pointed at the man's head. The Knight yelled an angry, guttural yell and pulled the trigger twice, the second bolt flying through the hole made by the first bolt and zooming harmlessly into the air.

The former General caught the Zabrak's body and moved himself into a corner. The Black Sun members had begun to fire at him, though the body of the Zabrak made a good enough shield until the Knight got to some solid cover. He dropped the Zabrak and gathered the Force, using it to push the other Jedi to safety before pulling his lightsaber from his belt and igniting it. The Knight needed some stress relief and he was about to have it.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

The Force spiked. Alexia smirked. Celtar had recognized her. A small voice in the back of her head, Darth Adava, screamed. Yes, give in. Shoot at her. Break the bond, burn it down. She took a deep breath as she walked. The door slammed on Adava. Deep in her subconscious the former Sith Lord raged. Alexia paid her no mind. Celtar’s rage had momentarily brought the Inquisitor near the surface. She did not trust the disgraced general but she did not think he was a cold-blooded killer. She kept walking as the commotion started.

Alexia turned to see Celtar engaging various Black Sun agents. The Force boiled with tension. He was handling himself well, for a drunk. Her pace quickened. A drunken Jedi was still a Jedi, but she wouldn’t chance failure. As people ran every direction she slunk into the interior of the space port. Alexia reached out in the Force, searching for the control center. She was pulled down the hallway. She needed to find the hub quickly. Black Sun reinforcements would overrun the trio of Jedi very quickly.

She spotted a group of leisurely looking Black Sun thugs leaning against the wall. That screamed security center. Alexia’s brow furrowed. There were three guards outside the door, and likely more inside the center. She was uncertain if she could fight them all herself. She feared what would be unleashed if she leaned into combat. She breathed trying to steady herself. The Black Sun were the scrum of the galaxy. They did terrible awful things in the name of profit. She had an old tactic that would never fail her. She tossed off her hood and began to walk down the hallways.

“Help! Please, please help!” The men turned and began to run towards the beautiful face. She breathed. Her hands grabbed her sabers. Closer. @Fyston

 

[Fyston]

Years ago, Celtar might have made a better tactical choice than angering the entire local populace of the Black Sun. He would have planned a diversion, orchestrated an assault with local law enforcement, utilized his resources to ensure no escape was possible, and essentially overwhelm the Black Sun with minimal bloodshed and maximum efficiency.

But that was years ago and Celtar was a much more straightforward man, certainly past the point of foolishness in this area. The Knight remained on the move, never remaining in one spot for long as he adhered to one of the central tenants of Form X. While these moves were not as precise as they should be and would likely have resulted in a harder fight against a lightsaber wielding opponent, the Knight's relatively sloppy footwork and somewhat clumsy moves were more than enough to handle the Black Sun. As he moved, Black Sun gang members fell, the Jedi's blade moving constantly. The Jedi sliced at people, batted blaster bolts into his foes, and used people as living shields. His lightsaber strikes were precise, removing weapon arms or otherwise disabling most foes. Those shot by their comrades died, though the Jedi constantly reminded himself to not needlessly slaughter his foes.

The Jedi was not adverse to using the Force, either, and threw various objects at the Black Sun members in order to knock them unconscious. He was in the midst of one such barrage when he noticed a few Black Sun members enter his peripheral vision with what appeared to be a large repeating blaster. Granted, being drunk and preoccupied resulted in a bit of a delay, allowing them to get it properly set up. When the thick stream of bolts began pouring down at him, Celtar flung himself behind the nearest pillar, hoping that it would last long enough for him to think of a plan.

The Knight began working to sober himself, using the Force to raise his metabolism and give him a clearer mind. As he did so, he couldn't help but wish that the Sith spy would walk blindly into the path of the bolts, though a tiny voice in the back of his mind told him to be nice. This voice promptly got insulted and Celtar couldn't help but grimace as his cover took hit after hit. I hope she hurries up, thought the Knight.

@Valen Pelora

 

[Valen Pelora]

The Black Sun guards rushed towards her. Alexia put on a helpless face. “There is Jedi on the landing pads. I-I-I think he is drunk.” The guards grunted to themselves in the way men do. She pointed the direction of the landing pads. She waited until the guards started to lumber past when she drew her Lightsabers. The indigo blades snapped to life in an instant. Alexia calmed her mind before she struck. She felt nothing as the spines of two guards were bisected. She was at peace while she spun to slam her blades into the chest of the others.

The Force washed over her when the bodies fell to the ground. Her Lightsabers clipped easily back to her belt. Alexia let the Lightside flow in and out. She was at peace. She was calm. Her mind was serene. Her boots thudded on the floor as she walked. The security station door slid open, one man was at the controls. She grabbed the Force and struck. He was lifted in the air and slammed against the wall. Alexia took his seat. She sat down to stare at a whirlwind of flashing lights.

A sigh escaped. She had never been particularly slicing savvy. Programming wizardry had not been part of Darksider Indoctrination 101. She frowned and stood. One of her Lightsabers sprung into her hand, she slammed it into the console. Satisfying red lights began to illuminate the port. They were accompanied by a horrible blaring sound. The port was in full on lockdown mode. Alexia sauntered back out to the landing pads. There were still Black Sun agents firing left and right at Celtar. She raised her voice. “Hurry up!” She would help him, but only if he asked nicely. She knew what that would do to him. @Fyston

 

[Fyston]

Now a much more sober Knight, Celtar went over the layout of the spaceport in his mind. He stretched out with the Force and used it to aid his mind's eye. He could see the movement of every Black Sun member as they approached his position. He could see the cover that protected them, ensuring that the Knight would be unable to take out more than one or two before being gunned down. He also felt the presence of the Initiate as she entered the control room, though he felt a spike of frustration and tuned it out. For the first time in a long time, Celtar was riding the wave of serene energy that was the Light side of the Force rather than fighting it.

The tactician began analyzing his options. Short of someone taking out that repeater, he would be unable to keep fighting and was combat ineffective. I could blow it up if I could get a grenade out, thought Celtar, his face grim. He grabbed a cigar and, lighting it as he went, placed it in his mouth. The stimulant effect coursed through his body as he puffed. The fact that it helped him concentrate was likely why Celtar had gotten into smoking in the first place, though the taste and the fact that it looked cool likely kept him smoking. Grimacing slightly, the Knight stopped thinking about his beloved cigars and returned to thinking about that stupid repeater and those stupid Black Sun members.

That's it! exclaimed the Jedi into his own mind. While he knew that he was supposed to capture as many alive as possible, the Knight had an idea. Before he could enact it, however, he heard Adava or, as she was apparently now known, Alexia, shout for him to hurry up. "-YOU!" was all that could be heard from the Knight's mouth, the first particularly angry word being droned out by the repeater. He moved his lightsaber, making the repeater open fire once again. Taking his chance, Celtar used the Force to nudge the aim of the repeater into the lines of Black Sun that were vulnerable to said repeater. Almost immediately, the Black Sun member wielding the weapon had stopped firing, though the damage was already done. Most of the Black Sun that were encroaching on Celtar's position lay dead, dying, or wounded and, while a few remained, the Knight felt no need to rush. "You gotta work on that aim," said the Knight. Raising his voice in order to ensure that his teammate heard, he spoke again. "You done?"

(OOC Note: The last two bits of dialogue are links to media clips)

 

[Valen Pelora]

Alexia was not easily impressed. She had been notoriously difficult to interact with as a Sith. She had rarely changed her views, and was always right. One misstep was all it took for her to cement her opinion. She was trying to be better as a Jedi. The Order preached acceptance and open-mindedness. Those concepts were difficult for her, despite her best efforts. Alexia still found herself making snap judgments. Perhaps, she had been wrong about Celtar. She judged him as the failure she knew him to be. She judged him as Darth Adava. She judged him as a Sith. Alexia did not know the fallen General as a Jedi.

She scowled slightly, she disliked slow learning. Celtar was impressing the former Sith Lord. The alcohol had clearly been mostly purged from his system. He was a different man. He looked almost like a real Jedi. Alexia was still not totally convinced, so she watched. Their landing pad was mostly clear besides a few lingering Black Sun lackeys. Their blaster bolts were harmlessly batted away. Her indigo Lightsabers twirled in her hands as she faced Celtar.

“I always finish.” She smirked. “The spaceport is locked down, no Black Sun operatives are leaving. We need to alert the local authorities. Unless you plan on arresting every gang member yourself.” She deflected a bolt into the chest of a gangster. “There must be a separate communications suite we can call out from.” She expanded her senses in the Force. Alexia could feel a bubbling tension. The Black Sun forces were gathering. They would throw everything they had at the Jedi. They had to call for backup and quickly. She did not want her life in the hands of an alcoholic former General.
@Fyston

 

[Fyston]

The fighting over, the now mostly-sober Celtar relaxed from his fighting stance. In it's place, his shoulders sagged and a veiled sadness was present on the Knight's face despite his obvious attempt to keep it neutral. His mind was clear and, while that was great for battle, tactics, and the like, Celtar could again hear the screams and could again feel the pain through the Force as if he were sleeping. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind and only slightly succeeding.

A borderline Pavlovian response had him reach for his flask and, while his hand gripped it firmly, the Knight was able to command his arm away from his favorite item and, instead, to the cigar in his mouth. Taking a deep drag as he thought, the Knight spoke in a low, solemn voice. "If memory recalls, lockdown should trigger the authorities response. Nobody wants to see a large spaceport locked down. However, the comms suite will be in the same area as the security area. I'll let you lead the way, ma'am."

Assuming that she took him up on his offer, Celtar would fall in step slightly behind her in order to let her lead the way, though would keep his guard up at all times. As he looked around at the many wounded Black Sun members and felt the Force swirl around the no-doubt large force gathering, he wondered if he could repent by going out a martyr. He wondered if sacrificing himself for the Jedi Order would make up for the wasteful sacrifice he made of each life above Tython. He wondered if they would understand when he saw them in the afterlife or if they would be angry. The Knight shook his head, hoping to remove the ever-present thoughts that haunted him. The same thoughts that, unless silenced by alcohol, would likely have driven him to suicide during his exile.

As they walked, Celtar would speak once more in the same manner that he did above. "I apologize for my treatment of you earlier. We are on the same side and I should have handled myself more appropriately. My actions were unbecoming of a Jedi and I ask your forgiveness and promise that it will not happen again." Apologizing was still difficult for the once extremely proud General, despite his years spent atoning and learning from his actions.

 

[Valen Pelora]

Alexia was overcome by Celtar’s shift in the Force. She was faced with an entirely different person. She was still learning to process emotions as they washed over her. As a Sith, she had blocked out all of that foolishness. She did not care how anyone felt. It was strange to experience, empathy had never been her strong suit. Alexia was slowly learning to care for others. Celtar was very clearly broken. His deep emotional suffering was not well hidden. She could only imagine the pain he relived when his mind was clear.

She was finding it difficult to separate her mind from Celtar’s emotional pain. It was dulled when he took a swing from the flask. That explained the drinking. Alexia did not approve, but a part of her understood. If she felt what Celtar felt, she would try anything to dull that feeling. She walked in step with the disgraced General. There was one last large hurdle they had to clear.

“We’ll need to confront the remaining thugs until the authorities arrive.” She pointed at the remaining civilians huddling anywhere for safety. “They are in danger until the Black Sun are removed.” A hostage situation would be disastrous. Alexia nearly tripped when Celtar apologized. Frankly, she was stunned. “No.” She smiled slightly. “I should not have sprung my true identity on you. There are only a few who know the truth, for good reason. I am trying very hard to start over and fix what I did. It is not easy. I should not have behaved the way I did. It was petty and foolish.” What a strange feeling, accepting responsibility for her actions. She could not remember the last time she done that. “We are not exactly typical Jedi. A former Sith Lord and a Former General.” Maybe, the Force had pushed them together. They were getting closer to the Black Sun agents now. @Fyston

 

[Fyston]

When Alexia pointed out the vulnerable civilians, the Knight nodded and began thinking while she continued to talk. He wasn't ignoring her and he hoped his face did not appear that he was ignoring her or tuning her out, rather he was attempting to plan the best place to keep the civilians. He was also attempting to determine how a skilled commander would foresee his plan and out-maneuver him. Similar mental chess matches kept Celtar quiet and was one way he could escape his normal thoughts, though he didn't have nearly as many opportunities to engage in this type of thinking as he did to acquire alcohol and drink himself into oblivion.

Breaking himself from his thoughts, he turned his head towards the civilians. "If you return from the way we came, our comrade is waiting. If you let him know we sent you, he can keep you on the ship, where you will be safe. Hurry." As he finished, the Knight returned to his deep thinking, a blank look on his face as he stared past Alexia. He wasn't thinking of how to counter any enemy maneuvers, rather how to respond to her. He had never been the type to talk, as demonstrated by the fact that he never negotiated for himself, rather he had an aide do it. He had never taken a learner and most knew that he was a fairly blunt and almost cynical person even before the disaster over Tython. Rather than worry about how to respond, the Knight simply grabbed one of his flasks and, removing the lid, spoke. "To being atypical," he said somberly as he brought the flask to his lips.

As the tihaar swished around in his mouth, the Knight offered a drink to his fellow Jedi. Either way, when they were done and when the familiar burn in his mouth had been transferred to his stomach, the Knight spoke again. "They are likely expecting us to use the regular door. I have a thermal det or two and we can make a new door. One of us can come in from the side and the other can come in from the rear or, following a slight delay, from the standard door. This avoids potentially hitting each other in the crossfire and allows a little more confusion. What say you? Either way, we need to get going soon."

 

[Valen Pelora]

Alexia kept silent. She let Celtar do the mental heavy lifting. She would never pretend to be the tactician the former war hero professed to be. He appeared, at least for a moment, to be that man again. She would not step on his toes. Alexia was no baby faced Initiate but she was also not a formerly semi-legendary general. She kept her blades at her sides and fought the rising anxiety. The thrill of battle clawed at her throat. The siren call of the Darkness begging her to dive back in. She sought solace in the Light. It was difficult, more difficult than she could ever imagine, but she managed.

When Celtar handed over the flash she grabbed it and took a swing. “To being atypical.” Alexia nodded slowly as Celtar explained his plan. Good enough for her. The Force pulsed through her hand as she lifted a thermal detonator off his belt. “Try not to accidently kill me.” She headed off to the side to make a new door. A former Sith Lord and fallen Jedi General were about to free the port for the grasp of the Black Sun. How strange the galaxy was. Alexia could barely keep the smile from her face. So strange.

She sauntered to the side of the hub. She took one deep breath and activated the thermal detonator. It floated towards the side of the wall, she held it in place. Her deep indigo blades twirled in her hands. The detonator exploded. Heat, sound, and air, blasted her face. She leapt forward after the explosion. Her blades were alive in her hand as she spun among the Black Sun. She waited for Celtar, but a part of her did not care if he ever arrived. The Force sang to her again. The Light sang to her. She smiled, she laughed, she fought. @Fyston

 

[Fyston]

As the former Sith moved to the side, Celtar readied himself and sauntered his way over to the main door, a lightsaber in each hand. He felt the swirl of the Force as it surrounded the two Jedi and, with a typical snap-hiss, activated both lightsabers. An explosion rocked the complex and the Knight stepped forward, the doors opening as soon as he did so.

The rapport of dozens of rifles and pistols deafened Celtar almost immediately, though he could not be happier. In his mind's eye, he was a young General at the head of his own army and facing down an almost infinite amount of Sith troopers. His blades moved with him, the former General performing an intricate dance as he moved. One leg moved up, kicking an opponent in the knee and hyperextending the joint. As he did that, one lightsaber batted a blaster bolt into the head of an unsuspecting thug, the other slicing through a Twi'lek's torso. The man was a blur of motion, each move having a purpose and each swing either defending from an attack or felling a Black Sun thug. His movements were, compared to the Initiate's, positively romantic. Nobody else would be able to tell without having spent time studying both Echani and Thyrisian styles of combat, though it was clear that the Knight loved what he was doing.

He flashed back to one of a hundred battles with every swing of his blade, each incapacitated or killed thug reminding him of another battle in another time. Celtar again felt alive and useful. He didn't feel chastised or unwanted and he didn't feel like a burden. His home was in battle and he was grinning from ear to ear. Occasionally, he would duck to avoid an attack and his hat would leave his head, though he was quick to use the Force to return it to his dome.

Within minutes, the remaining Black Sun thugs had been dispatched. He couldn't care less whether he had left enough alive, instead choosing to revel in their victory. With the euphoria of battle upon him, Celtar was able to forget about his past and felt drunkenly happy without drinking. With a grin on his face that befit a child in a candy shop, Celtar turned to his compatriot. "Well, my newfound friend, let's turn this over to the authorities and get out of here. What say you?"

 

[Valen Pelora]

Alexia found herself. She had been adrift since walking away from the Empire. She threw away Adava. She wasn’t the vengeful little girl waiting for her father’s back to turn. The Darkness had always been a part of her. She feared it was all she was. She had sworn to never fall for that sickly-sweet call again. Every fight, every sarcastic thought, every spike of anger, drove her fear. She thought she was slipping back into the Dark. Now, Alexia saw the truth. The Darkness had been a parasite feeding off her soul. It had twisted her mind and wrenched the truth, but it had not changed who she was.

She had seen the Light. She could be herself and right the wrongs she had sowed. She did not need to be afraid to fight. If her mind, body, and soul, stayed true so would her blade. This was the Jedi she was meant to be. She did not have to cower away from battle. No. She should rush towards it. She would throw herself at the Empire until it fell or she did. The thought rushed through her mind as Black Sun scum hit the floor. Celtar was in the room with her, a reflection of the man he had once been. The oddly fitting Jedi made quick work of the gangsters. She let out a deep sigh and clipped her Lightsaber hilts to her belt. She turned and flashed a bright smile at Celtar.

“Friends? I thought you wanted to put a blaster in my back?” Her laugh filled the room. She could hear the shouting of the local authorities. “We’ve done the work of three Jedi, I think I’ve earned a drink.” She pointed at his flask and smirked. “But you’ve had enough for both of us.” Alexia sauntered from the room. The heavy lifting was done, the local authorities could finish up the rest. @Fyston

OOC: End Thread