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It was a beautiful evening.
The tide was almost in and gentle waves lapped at the sandy beach of a small, heavily wooded island. The local star hung low in the sky, just beginning to kiss the horizon and turning the sky a foreboding shade of red. There were no animal cries, no noises of starships overhead... Only silence. There was almost nothing left alive here anymore, and those few things that were cowered as the sun failed. They sensed the bruise in the force, the raw open wound of the battle that had taken place here. Even the plants were afraid.
Trudging through the fine white sand came a stranger to the island. He was hooded and cloaked, with dark grey fur draped about his shoulders even in the gentle heat of an early summer’s eve. He stood tall and proud, daring someone to oppose him even though he knew the island was long abandoned by now: The rebel base that once stood not far from this place was no more, one way or another. He walked with purpose, clearly knowing where he was going, along the beach for a good distance before heading inland, into the darkening boughs of the undergrowth.
He had always smiled, even if he didn’t mean it. Harren wasn’t smiling today.
He found the site simply enough, the transponder in his hand giving him the precise coordinates of the signal it was tracking. He walked past shattered barricades and splintered trees, into a small clearing that contained a pair of artillery pieces, blasted to ruin and left to rust in the saline coastal air. The island was already starting to claim them, long grass and vines growing up around their bases. Life always endured, in one form or another.
It didn’t take much searching. Harren found what he was looking for, though it wasn’t what he was hoping to discover... A pair of bodies. He sighed.
One was unrecognisable beyond the fact that it was human, having been gnawed on by carrion birds to the point that he doubted even dental records would be able to provide an ID. The other was less ravaged, perhaps the local scavengers finding Zabrak not to their tastes. It was Harren’s first ever friend, the person he’d trusted most in the world. It was Doz Noth, Sith Acolyte, Scientist and Drinking Partner. Comrade in Arms and Friend.
The gentle climate and sea air had not been kind. Doz’s body was in a state of decay, not bloated as such but still unpleasant and disturbing for a companion to behold. She was face down, on her belly with a hand outstretched towards the second corpse, to which Harren paid no mind. He wondered how she’d died, what her final thoughts were. He had so many questions that would now go unanswered... How typical of Doz to leave him hanging.
Why was it him that she’d contacted, and not Tarsus? Why risk everything for this fight? Why, if she was so outmatched, would she not withdraw? Why die somewhere other than at her best friend’s, her brother in arms' side?
Harren closed his eyes for a moment, overcome. It wasn’t fair to ask all these things of the dead, she’d earned her peace. He would see her to it.
Gently cradling Doz in his massive arms, Harren picked her up and bore her to the sands of the coastline. He ignored the smell, blotted out the clamminess of her cold flesh - she meant too much for him to worry about things so trivial. In death they shared an embrace more intimate than anything they’d had in life, and he treasured the moment deeply. The last chance they’d get.
He set her down on the beach and turned back into the forest. He knew what he needed and worked with a silent purpose. He was lost in thought as he cut down branches and pulled vines out of the forest floor, meditating on his friend, lying back there on the sand. He picked up rocks as well - large flat pebbles that would stack easily. It was almost dark by the time he’d gathered what he required. Lashing together the branches with the vines he fashioned the best raft he could. It was crude and hasty work, but it only needed to last one voyage.
One last journey for Doz Noth to make.
He placed her gently on the raft and looked down at her sad, broken form. After a moment he almost tenderly pulled out his Deucalian hunting knife and took it to her scalp, working it until he’d removed a single horn from her head. Stashing the keepsake in a pocket he cleaned the weapon and sheathed it again, confident it’s what she would have wanted. Nodding to her, he pushed the raft out into the shallows.
He waded into the inky water, for it was now night and the ocean as dark as the sky, pushing Doz deeper past the gentle breaking waves until he stood up to his chest in the freezing sea, one hand on the raft. With a careful telekinetic push he sent her out further, beyond his depth. Out into an ocean he could not yet follow into. Once she was taken by the current, drawn out ever deeper, he stopped pushing and turned back for the shore. By the time he was out of the water, his cloak dripping and everything about him drenched to the skin, she was quite far out... But not too far. Just right.
Balling up his sense of loss, his indignation at not having been there, the rage he felt for whoever had killed his friend, the fear that he might also share her sorry fate, he clenched his fists. Focusing the maelstrom of emotion into a tangible storm of energy, Harren reached out for the raft and howled - it was almost animal, almost inhumane, the cry of a wounded beast more than of a mourning friend.
The raft erupted into flame, immolating Doz’ corpse as she went off on her final odyssey. Utterly spent, Harren sank to his knees. He stayed there for a long time, head bowed, eyes closed.
His mind on other things.
He didn’t know how long after the raft had either sank or passed over the horizon, but when he rose it was the deepest and most blackest night of the early morning. Doz was gone.
He gathered the pebbles and rocks he’d found, and stacked them into a cairn right there at the top of the beach, well out of the reach of even the highest tide. Harren had considered doing this at the site of the actual battle, but felt Doz would prefer her monument overlook the sea. It was a better view. He did not write her name, or mark it as hers in any way - this was not meant as a place for others to mourn at. It was simply a statement, and that he knew its meaning was enough.
Here fell Doz, friend of Harren. She will be missed.
Once he was done he took a step back, checking the thing looked stable enough to survive a storm if one hit. He hoped it would, that the force would keep the cairn standing until the rocks eroded to dust. Bowing his head to it, Harren shut his eyes for a final time. He could do no more for his friend.
Turning, he left. He walked back down the white sandy beach as morning’s first light speared over the horizon, promising a bright and beautiful summer’s day on the river moon of Al’doleem. Life went on, the stars kept burning and the war for the galaxy’s soul never quite ended. It never stopped consuming, never stopped ruining lives. His thoughts turned dark as he trudged up the boarding ramp of the ship he’d stolen to come here, turned towards his own future. The Empire. The Sith.
This would not be Harren’s fate. The eternal war would not claim him so easily, not extinguish his saga before it was sung. Of this he made the most solemn oath, knowing that now he had Doz to keep him to it. He patted the Zabrak horn in his pocket as the curtain closed on Al’doleem and his ship sped off into the morning sky - bearing him away on his own tale once more.
On his own odyssey. The Saga of the Witch of Rhen Var.
The tide was almost in and gentle waves lapped at the sandy beach of a small, heavily wooded island... And Doz Noth, wherever she was, could finally be at peace.
@Kayenta Moenkopi @Sangga @Raydo @vamp
(Sorry Vamp, had to keep the Wes reference vague so as to not break my own headcanon. Or spacetime! I'd have loved to have expanded on that too though.)
The tide was almost in and gentle waves lapped at the sandy beach of a small, heavily wooded island. The local star hung low in the sky, just beginning to kiss the horizon and turning the sky a foreboding shade of red. There were no animal cries, no noises of starships overhead... Only silence. There was almost nothing left alive here anymore, and those few things that were cowered as the sun failed. They sensed the bruise in the force, the raw open wound of the battle that had taken place here. Even the plants were afraid.
Trudging through the fine white sand came a stranger to the island. He was hooded and cloaked, with dark grey fur draped about his shoulders even in the gentle heat of an early summer’s eve. He stood tall and proud, daring someone to oppose him even though he knew the island was long abandoned by now: The rebel base that once stood not far from this place was no more, one way or another. He walked with purpose, clearly knowing where he was going, along the beach for a good distance before heading inland, into the darkening boughs of the undergrowth.
He had always smiled, even if he didn’t mean it. Harren wasn’t smiling today.
He found the site simply enough, the transponder in his hand giving him the precise coordinates of the signal it was tracking. He walked past shattered barricades and splintered trees, into a small clearing that contained a pair of artillery pieces, blasted to ruin and left to rust in the saline coastal air. The island was already starting to claim them, long grass and vines growing up around their bases. Life always endured, in one form or another.
It didn’t take much searching. Harren found what he was looking for, though it wasn’t what he was hoping to discover... A pair of bodies. He sighed.
One was unrecognisable beyond the fact that it was human, having been gnawed on by carrion birds to the point that he doubted even dental records would be able to provide an ID. The other was less ravaged, perhaps the local scavengers finding Zabrak not to their tastes. It was Harren’s first ever friend, the person he’d trusted most in the world. It was Doz Noth, Sith Acolyte, Scientist and Drinking Partner. Comrade in Arms and Friend.
The gentle climate and sea air had not been kind. Doz’s body was in a state of decay, not bloated as such but still unpleasant and disturbing for a companion to behold. She was face down, on her belly with a hand outstretched towards the second corpse, to which Harren paid no mind. He wondered how she’d died, what her final thoughts were. He had so many questions that would now go unanswered... How typical of Doz to leave him hanging.
Why was it him that she’d contacted, and not Tarsus? Why risk everything for this fight? Why, if she was so outmatched, would she not withdraw? Why die somewhere other than at her best friend’s, her brother in arms' side?
Harren closed his eyes for a moment, overcome. It wasn’t fair to ask all these things of the dead, she’d earned her peace. He would see her to it.
Gently cradling Doz in his massive arms, Harren picked her up and bore her to the sands of the coastline. He ignored the smell, blotted out the clamminess of her cold flesh - she meant too much for him to worry about things so trivial. In death they shared an embrace more intimate than anything they’d had in life, and he treasured the moment deeply. The last chance they’d get.
He set her down on the beach and turned back into the forest. He knew what he needed and worked with a silent purpose. He was lost in thought as he cut down branches and pulled vines out of the forest floor, meditating on his friend, lying back there on the sand. He picked up rocks as well - large flat pebbles that would stack easily. It was almost dark by the time he’d gathered what he required. Lashing together the branches with the vines he fashioned the best raft he could. It was crude and hasty work, but it only needed to last one voyage.
One last journey for Doz Noth to make.
He placed her gently on the raft and looked down at her sad, broken form. After a moment he almost tenderly pulled out his Deucalian hunting knife and took it to her scalp, working it until he’d removed a single horn from her head. Stashing the keepsake in a pocket he cleaned the weapon and sheathed it again, confident it’s what she would have wanted. Nodding to her, he pushed the raft out into the shallows.
He waded into the inky water, for it was now night and the ocean as dark as the sky, pushing Doz deeper past the gentle breaking waves until he stood up to his chest in the freezing sea, one hand on the raft. With a careful telekinetic push he sent her out further, beyond his depth. Out into an ocean he could not yet follow into. Once she was taken by the current, drawn out ever deeper, he stopped pushing and turned back for the shore. By the time he was out of the water, his cloak dripping and everything about him drenched to the skin, she was quite far out... But not too far. Just right.
Balling up his sense of loss, his indignation at not having been there, the rage he felt for whoever had killed his friend, the fear that he might also share her sorry fate, he clenched his fists. Focusing the maelstrom of emotion into a tangible storm of energy, Harren reached out for the raft and howled - it was almost animal, almost inhumane, the cry of a wounded beast more than of a mourning friend.
The raft erupted into flame, immolating Doz’ corpse as she went off on her final odyssey. Utterly spent, Harren sank to his knees. He stayed there for a long time, head bowed, eyes closed.
His mind on other things.
He didn’t know how long after the raft had either sank or passed over the horizon, but when he rose it was the deepest and most blackest night of the early morning. Doz was gone.
He gathered the pebbles and rocks he’d found, and stacked them into a cairn right there at the top of the beach, well out of the reach of even the highest tide. Harren had considered doing this at the site of the actual battle, but felt Doz would prefer her monument overlook the sea. It was a better view. He did not write her name, or mark it as hers in any way - this was not meant as a place for others to mourn at. It was simply a statement, and that he knew its meaning was enough.
Here fell Doz, friend of Harren. She will be missed.
Once he was done he took a step back, checking the thing looked stable enough to survive a storm if one hit. He hoped it would, that the force would keep the cairn standing until the rocks eroded to dust. Bowing his head to it, Harren shut his eyes for a final time. He could do no more for his friend.
Turning, he left. He walked back down the white sandy beach as morning’s first light speared over the horizon, promising a bright and beautiful summer’s day on the river moon of Al’doleem. Life went on, the stars kept burning and the war for the galaxy’s soul never quite ended. It never stopped consuming, never stopped ruining lives. His thoughts turned dark as he trudged up the boarding ramp of the ship he’d stolen to come here, turned towards his own future. The Empire. The Sith.
This would not be Harren’s fate. The eternal war would not claim him so easily, not extinguish his saga before it was sung. Of this he made the most solemn oath, knowing that now he had Doz to keep him to it. He patted the Zabrak horn in his pocket as the curtain closed on Al’doleem and his ship sped off into the morning sky - bearing him away on his own tale once more.
On his own odyssey. The Saga of the Witch of Rhen Var.
The tide was almost in and gentle waves lapped at the sandy beach of a small, heavily wooded island... And Doz Noth, wherever she was, could finally be at peace.
@Kayenta Moenkopi @Sangga @Raydo @vamp
(Sorry Vamp, had to keep the Wes reference vague so as to not break my own headcanon. Or spacetime! I'd have loved to have expanded on that too though.)
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