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Thread: Star Wars DoD - Episode III: The Queen of Air and Darkness

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    Default Star Wars DoD - Episode III: The Queen of Air and Darkness

    Last edited by rogue; 02-08-2013 at 05:42 PM.
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    The micro-jump to Bespin was short, barely three quarters of an hour. After surgery and a quick trip to Redemption staterooms for a few hours rack time, the Beginner’s Luck was again off another mission. It was the third in twice as many weeks. The two jedi stared at one another, using extra perceptory senses to gauge the differences that Del Maamo performed with an expert's hand. The Force perceived better than any fingertip or sharp eye.

    The cargo bay was empty, barely a few spare containers lingering in the largest space the YT-1300 had to offer. It had been almost a standard month since the two padawans had communed together in the Force. The last of their kind kneeled down before one another on the non-skid of an alloyed deck, opening their sense to the all-encompassing presence of life. Trangle immediately noticed a more integral connection, free of any taint as before. It beckoned him to become one, the closest feeling he could equate was the sense of love he encountered for his freshly hatched spawn-mates on Mon Calamari. For Tahla, the Force greeted her like an old friend, consciousness expanding at a rate slightly more accelerated than her spiritual brother. Though Trangle’s connnection had grown, his presence trailed behind hers.

    The Force revealed all. Emotion swirled in the universal nexus, streams of impulses and ideas creating a cloud of potential forks in the past, present and future. They absorbed the energy and multiple visions, collecting it like a satellite did solar energy. Minutes melted by, a radiation of joy coursing through their collective beings. It was not until a gathering caused both jedi’s eyes blink open in astonishment. Despite the interruption, they did not fall from their communion; no their senses probed the supposed disturbance building before them. It was a first. Neither had felt such a strong presence of life spontaneously coalesce in any point of their lives.

    It built slowly, expanding like wildfire. A phantom took shape in striations of blue and white. The presence over-powered, as if Master Yoda stood directly before them. And yet, it was different. This seemed a living will, a natural phenomenon like the birth of a star. The shape glowed in a soft, pleasing and diffused light. And then before them stood a robust human, if such could be defined in cerulean bursts of ghostly photons. He was the imprint of a man. A distant memory, not a living or breathing thing, but a spirit: a phantom of the Force.

    He wore robes in the jedi style, the usual drab browns and tan now immersed in soft blues and blaring white. Salt and pepper hair was tied back from his forehead in an unseen braid, hanging low at the shoulders. Though unyielding, his countenance was wise and kindly for those deserving of such. His round face was accentuated by a neatly groomed beard. His gaze danced between Trangle and Tahla, the shade sharing a knowing nod to each jedi. The small smile he shared seemed to ripple in the Force, doing much to assuage any worry.

    “Greetings padawans,” he said finally. “Know there are still others of us left, and your journey is not in vain. Though many have fallen to become one with the Force, or continued separate passages into darkness, you both still tread the path of light.”

    “The living Force communicates a plan. Be mindful, and your paths may change the course of the galaxy.”

    At that, the spirit paused, nodding as a master would to open for a student to clear their minds of questions.

    OOC: This is only for Trangle and Tahla. Both of you make a Galactic Lore check with a +2 bonus to know the identity of the Force ghost.

    Last edited by rogue; 09-05-2012 at 08:42 PM.
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    Trangle watched the vision with small eyes beady instead of large ogling eyes, with long tentacles dangling from his chin instead of wiggling whiskers, now that he resembled a Quarren. He watched the phantom in awe, humbled. He had felt the Dark Side, and there had been moments when he had enjoyed it. But perhaps it all had been a blessing in disguise, he thought, after encountering the phantom of the Force. He was cleansed of it for now, but he knew its allure better than before. Knew that it was more powerful than he could possibly imagine.

    OOC
    Galactic Lore d20+2+2= 14.
    The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."

    I will, Darvig uttered.

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    Tahla's legs were cramped from kneeling on the deck across from her fellow Padawan, though she hardly noticed, her mind lost in the place farthest from reality. At first it was relaxation, then breathing, before the pair of students began the mental calisthenics that was their daily ritual. Back and forth, their minds danced through the formless ecstasy that surrounded them, and bound them, and held the galaxy together. It was at times a measured fencing match, and at times, a wild dance.

    When the vision in the Force coalesced, the Padawan stared in wide-eyed disbelief at the form drifting before them. She had seen holograms of the Jedi, and heard tales of his exploits through the grapevine during the Clone War. The austere visage of Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn looked at her and Trangle from the eternal beyond of the Force. She was incertain of what she was looking at, or talking to, but she trusted her instinct.

    "What is that plan, Master Jinn?"

    OOC: Know (Gal. Lore) check:1d20(10) +11=21
    Last edited by SuperBall; 09-03-2012 at 09:49 PM.
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    The ghost that is (was?) jedi knight Qui-gon Jinn nodded. "You will both go to the Dagobah system to face your trials. Master Yoda shall receive you."

    The spirit began to fade, its light dimming almost as if it never was.

    "Be mindful of your feelings, young ones, for they serve you well, but could be made to serve others. Never heed them at the expense of the moment. The living will of the Force will guide you...."

    With a final pulse, the light faded, and both jedi were again alone, staring at changed faces.
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    Tahla stared with wide-eyed disbelief as the figure of the slain Master receded into the mist of her mind's eye. His message seemed so cryptic to Tahla. Hearing the news that other Jedi lived, and that Master Yoda was among them, filled her with such hope. She'd never heard of the Dagobah system, and felt unsure about a pilgrimage into the unknown. On Coruscant, not knowing where you were headed often put you in the welcoming arms of an Imperial patrol. She puzzled over the last thing that the wise shade had said: that her feelings could be made to serve others. It didn't seem possible, and it bothered her. She choked back the sudden impulse to ask a question.

    Your Master is gone, remember? You'll learn none of the deeper mysteries until you find one.

    She didn't know what to think, or how to feel. First, the surgical alterations, and now this. It was unnerving to the girl, that she felt uncomfortable in front of a mirror, and now in her own mind as well. The chance to see another Jedi alive, let alone to train under Master Yoda himself was an over whelming temptation, but the idea of her friends going into Bespin alone, and missing a chance to save Kade was too much to bear. She looked into the eyes of her friend, now a tentacled Quarren.

    "After we complete the mission, we have to go."
    Last edited by SuperBall; 07-11-2013 at 08:08 AM.
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    Trangle's long tentacles wiggled, as if it were his Mon Calamari whiskers. He had to stop doing that - it wasn't Quarren like.

    For many moments he was too dumbfounded to speak. A sense of enlightenment was about him, knowing Master Yoda was out there.

    "Do we go to Bespin first, or first to Dagobah?" Trangle asked his jedi companion. Trangle was strong and powerful with the Force - a dangerous contender in combat, but Tahla was often more sensitive to the more subtle nuances of the Force.

    "What do your feelings tell you, Tahla?"
    The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."

    I will, Darvig uttered.

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    "After the mission."
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    Trangle nodded in agreement at Tahla's judgement. He took her hand. "Well, find Kadrien too, I promise." Trangle had long perceived how much she cared for the soldier since they had met. His only worry is that her emotions would lead to too much passion, which could lead Tahla to the Dark Side....Now that he himself knew how seductive it could be. Trangle would be watching.
    The Red Condor shrieked at Sir Darvig in full wrath. Wings flapped storms of fire across the sky. "The Mage-God grows in power swifter than it appears to Paladine. This I know. A warning," Sargonnas told Darvigl, "for you to give to Paladine in your prayers."

    I will, Darvig uttered.

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    The exchange cut short as both jedi felt the ship lurch back into realspace. The crew made their way to the small cockpit, with Bespin looming ahead large as day. As far as gas giants went, Bespin was contradictory. Like most of its planetary class, the hundreds of thousands of kilometers in diameter planet sported a solid metal core, with surrounding layers of poisonous gas comprising hydrogen, helium, methane and a slew of others. With temperature and pressure far beyond any biological toleration and despite the tumultuous cacophony of radical chemical combinations, the upper atmosphere somehow held oxygen. Over millions of years, a breathable pocket formed, known as Bespin’s Life Zone. Belying scientific odds, life formed in the thin, blue ozone. A species knows as the beldon evolved; large floating amorphous things that fed on rethin, a mix of gases resplendent in the planetary atmosphere.

    It was this creature that made the planet so inviting to the venture-capitalists of the galaxy. Their ingestion of the rethin created an excretion of highly valued Tibana gas. Tibana fueled the volatile explosive reactions needed for heavy blasters and turbolaser; even working as a hyperdrive coolant in its unrefined form. As space faring races discovered its benefits, it was not long before three floating cities saw construction, taking a place in the clouds. Each was under the power of thousands of repulsorlift engines and tractor beam generators.

    Chief among them was Cloud City, the planet’s capitol. The outpost was more of a resort than the other two, an effort by the Mining Guild to maximize profit for the aggressive expansion of private operations with no financially backed government power.

    Ace brought the Luck on an almost lazy approach, passing directly between the dual gravitational pull of Bespin’s two moons, H’gaard and Drudonna. His vector slingshot the freighter into a higher speed, causing the ship’s inertial compensator to automatically dial up. It turned more than a few stomachs. Bespin’s gassy, vomitous brown color did not do well to aid things. Entering the atmosphere hot, Ace leveled out the ship, cackling in robotic bursts of static that filtered through his new custom-helmet into a somewhat odd and unnerving biological laughter.

    Plunging through the viscous helium layer, the Luck entered the Life Zone. The gas cluster parted, and Cloud City revealed itself in a shining glory. The disc-shaped platform glimmered in the radiant sunlight filtering through the sky, a harbor for business men, gamblers, and gas miners trying to earn an honest wage. Air control beamed a specific flight path that only seemed to maximize the beautiful city floating through the azure sky. Dense groupings of cumulus clouds floated by, their palace-like forms serving to flatter the metropolis. Several Tibana gas collection platforms also circled like birds of prey, mingling with the long line of ships funneling towards the space port.

    “Cerulean Raptor*, as a result of heavy tourist traffic from upcoming tournament, each ship will be assigned a landing priority,” a courteous female voice finally sounded over the comm. “The current taxiing time is 12 hours…”

    *False transponder of the Luck.

    OOC: So..12 hours flying around, or do you want to try and bargain?
    Last edited by rogue; 09-10-2012 at 12:21 AM.
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