Shadows of Bankor

Calm was but a veneer, a film growing over a shifting miasma of confusion and anger. The Zabrak was sitting cross-legged on a dune, blood from his wounds dripping into the sand, clotting it. He was facing the sunset horizon, gazing at the fiery hues of the receding star, reminiscing the fire. He hadn't been afraid of that fire. And yet...

...he had exerted little influence or control over his own fate. He had been like these grains of sand, scattered and tossed around at each whim of the wind. He hadn't died, but he had failed as a warrior. And who was he, if not a warrior? Who could he be beyond that? The mounting self-loathing felt in his throat like a half-swallowed lump of meat, near choking.

He feared the natural conclusion. The insignificance, the failure. Crimson Dawn was establishing presence, and he hadn't been informed. Maul hadn't contacted him at all. It amounted to a painful truth he had to recognise at some point: more likely than not he had simply been discarded. There had never been a secret purpose. His weakness had been foreseen. Some brute had brought him to his knees, took his weapon away, hit with a pipe as if he was cattle...

He was clenching the lightsabre, being on the verge of giving it to the sands. It was cool, but it burned him, as if the will lingering on the crystal mocked him. What use did it have in inept hands. Like he had long suspected, the Force was not meant to settle within him, but to pass through as if he was from glass. He should never have fallen for the mirage of his own significance...

The weapon is tugged from his hand and then falls down the down rolling away... maybe it was the wind.

He extended his hand in a fool's test: would it return to me? He willed, it weakly, but mostly expected failure. That required power was outside of his grasp. He stared at the metallic glint, struggling if he should slide down the dune and pick it up or whether this was a sign enough what the universe had in store for him. Out of habit more than choice, his gaze did dart around for a brief moment.

He was alone.

Only the brief murmuring of the winds.

It wasn't even crafted right. The emitter was faulty. He wanted to try it that day but he was apparently afraid of being exposed before eyes of the strangers. It was a weapon, not a trophy or keepsake or a lucky charm. And yet not once had he drawn it in battle. Petty.

Still, when it was lying down there, he felt even more incomplete than before. He had invested himself in aligning with it, and it now carried a part. Could he afford being lessened any more?

...He pushed himself down the dune.

Once at the bottom of the dune he found the weapon lodged in the sand, it gleamed in the starlight before he felt the ground underneath him give way and he felt in a yawning abyss below… it was dark and the fall seemed to last forever but it was only moments a blink in time maybe more.

He landed hard on stone and sand covered in a few centimeters of water… sandy water. Salty as some had gotten in his mouth.

There was just darkness around and then he heard the lightsaber hit the water and stone.

He couldn't see well, if it all, in the sudden darkness, so he crouched in the wet sand and tried to feel out the sabre. It was a source of illumination after all, so finding it felt important to know what he packed himself into.

Daunt wrote: ↑

Sun Feb 09, 2020 3:54 am

He couldn't see well, if it all, in the sudden darkness, so he crouched in the wet sand and tried to feel out the sabre. It was a source of illumination after all, so finding it felt important to know what he packed himself into.

He always knew where it was.

It gave him pause, for a brief moment, then he carefully turned the emitter on, waiting for the effect.

Daunt wrote: ↑

Sun Feb 09, 2020 4:01 am

It gave him pause, for a brief moment, then he carefully turned the emitter on, waiting for the effect.

It provides illumination.

There is a sound that pierces the darkness.

He didn't know the sound. It sounded like some machinery. Maybe it was an underground facility. And yet, a sense of foreboding made him tighten the grip on the long hilt and barrel-roll the double blade before him as he took a step forward, his feet making a wet sound.

Daunt wrote: ↑

Sun Feb 09, 2020 4:13 am

He didn't know the sound. It sounded like some machinery. Maybe it was an underground facility. And yet, a sense of foreboding made him tighten the grim on the long hilt and barrel-roll the double blade before him as he took a step forward, his feet making a wet sound.

There is a second light in the darkness, crimson like blood. It is a lightsaber, and the light illuminates off dark armor, the source of the breathing.

The source of all fear.

OOC: Fear 5, Discipline check, Destiny flip.

And Daunt was afraid, to the core. Of a fate worse than death. But he still remained oblivious about the source, so he stared at the impending doom with perplexed trepidation, not realising why the air in his throat started slowing down.

EE5. I am afraid of Vader, ain't I? Flip.: 2eP+1eA+1eC+4eD 4 failures, 1 advantage


[Advantage to not recognise Vader. Daunt grew up under a rock?]

The figure advanced forward.

OOC: He can make an attack or he can run, with Fear failed gain five setback on the action. Vader is Nemesis 5 and Defense 2. Running is an Athletics or Coordination check at hard again affected by Fear so five setback.

Animal instincts took over, fear without recognition meant lashing out as in the cage of his mind, he felt cornered.

I had this one chance to raise my sabre on Vader.: 2eP+2eA+3eC+1eD+7eS 0 successes, 4 threat, 1 Triumph


And as a cornered animal, he bit the hand. Daunt focused all his might on mauling the opposite red glow off the walking machine.

[Threat for the GM, Triumph to Disarm]

Daunt wrote: ↑

Sun Feb 09, 2020 4:37 am

Animal instincts took over, fear without recognition meant lashing out as in the cage of his mind, he felt cornered.

I had this one chance to raise my sabre on Vader.: 2eP+2eA+3eC+1eD+7eS 0 successes, 4 threat, 1 Triumph


And as a cornered animal, he bit the hand. Daunt focused all his mind on mauling the opposite red glow from the walking machine.

[Threat for the GM, Triumph to Disarm]

Their crimson blades clash.

Savagery versus controlled skill, every strike that Daunt could muster was easily deflected… the sparks illuminating the shadowy slick floors of the chamber, at times he could see the steel of a starship other times it was a hellish landscape of flames and spewing lava!

He pushed Daunt back with the Force and then was on him with a powerful leap the strength of the figure was incredible as each blow rattled through Daunt as he pushed through the lizard instinct of fear to try and defend himself.

Then the figure was gone and there was silence, no breathing.

A split second and he felt the heat and the room was illuminated blue and he was surrounded by the corpses of children and another assailant came at him a young handsome man who fought with grace and skill his dark cloak billowing as he kept Daunt on the defensive even when he disarmed the figure it was only a momentary advantage as he was nimble and skilled hand to hand fighter, using punches and kicks to keep him off balance until he summoned his weapon to back his hand and slammed it down on a console!

Now they were in some command center trading strike but Daunt was only barely keeping the pace as the phantom flitted into the darkness once more and he was alone.

It seemed like hours but it was those precious moments between the beating of his pounding heart before the figure was on him once more dark and menacing the light from their clashes illuminating the dark armor before he felt himself being choked at a distance and then flung across the chamber.

He slid across the water and he felt the pain along his body… and there was silence.

OOC: Threat used to regain weapon. Daunt suffers a strain and 5 Conflict.

He hears a woman's voice speak in Basic, she is gauzy and light, "I believe you lost this."

She held out his lightsaber. She seemed young, maybe his age but he was probably not super familiar with togruta to begin with.

The lizard brain spoke to him of pain and fear, while everything it was connected to radiated with numbness and exhaustion, all strengths fading. Whatever was what he had experienced, it was too much to process, too much to comprehend, even too much to survive, his mind was willing to float away into nothingness...

...the face, the voice. He felt no lips he could respond with, no eyes he could trust. But a thought emerged.

Have I?

He saw a contour of his hand against the silhouette of her face, reaching out.

She handed him the lightsaber, his lightsaber. She said kindly, "Are you okay?"

The grip on the metal barrel somewhat confirmed to him that he still carried a body.

"...he didn't kill me." He found words. "So I think yes." Despite the body he had just repossessed hurting and aching like it had just been used as a racing pod. "Who are you?"

"You are the only on here," she said confidently. She responded to his query, "Just a Jedi a fellow vessel of the Force more like a memory now, at peace."

"You are not at peace."

"A Jedi." He blinked intensively as if he had seen a ghost. Which was likely accurate. He had entered some ghost realm. "I am not. Should I be?"

"It seems better than what you have which is rage and anger," she said honestly.

A second voice spoke from the shadows, "Rage and anger are exactly what you need."

Have I gone mad? Or is it how Light and Dark manifest? He raised himself to the elbows to see whose was the second voice. "I know anger. I haven't known much peace."

The second moved around the room never standing still and always hidden or just out o sight as she continued, "Peace is a lie."


The Jedi responded, "I know those words well and I have seen it destroy so many, and bring suffering and destruction."

"And power," the shadowed voice said.