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#oc: Fess
kelocitta · 5 months
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The Blend No need to run if you never got found
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Jedi consular and Qyzen Fess are besties, sorry I don’t make the rules
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harveylikestoart · 4 months
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He’s not even an actual OC…
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yarpell · 1 year
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Qyzen deserves all the kisses 😳
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thedealersfiance · 8 days
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sorry y’all i haven’t posted in a minute…have this
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serenofroses · 2 months
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Qyzen starting to warm up to me more.
I could imagine Qyzen doing non-verbal purring would soothe anyone's anxiety or bad days or had nightmares.
Jazz has social anxiety and feeling out of loop? Tau or Elysia send Qyzen to find her hiding somewhere on Odessan or on the ship and he comforts her through hugs and rumbles.
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tiredassmage · 11 months
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SWTOR Mains + Callout (For Them) Posts bc no gods no masters
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lady-of-the-spirit · 4 months
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Erik, bursting into the room: Who wants to make 5 bucks? 
Sean: How?
Erik: I need someone to take the fall.
Marianne in the distance: Oh my god!
Raven: What did you do?!
Erik: Yes or no, no questions asked.
Marianne: Oh my GOD!
Alex: Make it ten.
Erik: Done. 
Marianne: OH MY GOD!!
Erik: You're a good kid. [Grabs Alex's shoulder, dragging him out] I GOT HIM, MARIANNE! I GOT HIM RIGHT HERE!
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cytosprout · 6 months
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we love a nerd
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swtorpadawan · 1 year
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A Jedi Consular’s Path – Chapter One: How We Came to This Point
Author’s Notes: The following story is part of my Halcyon Legacy and features a character I rarely get to write about Ulannium Kaarz. It takes place during the five-year gap from Knights of the Fallen Empire in the aftermath of the fall of Tython. Expect a handful of game-canon divergences as well as cameos from minor NPCs from the game.
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Jedi Master Ulannium Kaarz let out a heavy sigh as he rested his palms against the now-extinguished holo-terminal.
It has been a long day.
The Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order reflected on the present situation. If he were being candid with himself, it had been a string of long days dating back almost a year.
A moment earlier, he had been speaking over the holo with Nalen Raloch. Once an enemy long ago, the Twi’lek had turned into an ally and even a friend. The two Jedi had exchanged words of admiration and respect as Nalen had prepared to make his final stand against the Zakuulan ground forces on Tython. He had been part of the final rear guard, covering the evacuation.
If that final report had been accurate, Nalen was one of two Jedi still alive on Tython. And he was on the brink of being overrun by an enemy that had taken no prisoners.
Ulannium recalled how he had first met Nalen all those years ago. As the champion defender of Kalikori Village, the Twi’lek had been corrupted by the holocron of Rajivari, leading him to plot the destruction of the Jedi Order. Ulannium, still a Padawan at the time, had defeated Nalen in single combat, starting the Twi’lek on the path of recovery. But it had been the man himself who had found the strength within himself to become someone better.
It was strange to think that Nalen, who had joined the order relatively late in life as a grown adult under such inauspicious circumstances and after such a brush with the dark side, might have just ended his life as a better Jedi than Ulannium - one of the most celebrated Jedi of his generation - had lived his.
As he continued to grip the display for support, Ulannium felt Future's Vision, his Mark II Defender special transport frigate, launch into hyperspace, leaving the Tython system behind.
For the second time in two generations, the Jedi were headed into exile.
Right on schedule. The Mirialan Jedi Master thought to himself as his wrist communicator beeped. He automatically toggled the control switch to receive.  
“All the other ships have reported in, Master Jedi.” Felix Iresso reported from the pilot’s seat of the Future’s Vision’s bridge. “Green board for everyone. I know we paid a heck of a price to get off Tython, but the evac fleet managed to make it out clean.”
Ulannium forced himself to smile approvingly despite the dire situation.
“Excellent work, Felix.” Despite him amicable words, his voice sounded strained even to his own ears. “I’ll let you know when we have coordinates for the next jump.”
“Got it.” the former Republic officer acknowledged. “Hey, get some rest, okay, boss? You sound like you need it. Felix out.”
With that, the communicator deactivated, leaving the Mirialan Jedi Master alone with his thoughts.
It’s done.
They had successfully evacuated the remnants of the Jedi Order from Tython… but as Felix had said, the cost had been astronomical. Nalen Raloch, Bengel Morr and so many others had sacrificed themselves to make good their escape.
Ulannium could only hope that their sacrifices had not been in vain.
So many choices. Ulannium thought to himself. So many sacrifices for so such meager gains. So many have fallen just to take us to this sorry state as refugees, and to leave our responsibilities to the rest of the galaxy behind.
Master Gnost-Dural, the Lore Keeper of the Jedi Archives, had revealed their final destination to no one, not even to Ulannium, the Barsen’thor of the Order and Dural’s sole remaining active colleague from the council. But he had promised them all that he had found a place for the surviving Jedi to withdraw. To regroup. To heal. To study. And to train.
A place where they could learn how to be Jedi again.
It was a tempting offer given the horrors they had just escaped and the multitude of misfortunes that had befallen the Jedi in the past year. Ulannium had no reason to question the aged Kel Dor’s sincerity that he could provide such a sanctuary.
He only wished that he could complete that journey with him. Inducted into the Order at the age of six, Ulannium had spent almost his entire life working towards this point. His accomplishments by the age of thirty-two had been remarkable in the eyes of everyone. Friends, allies, even enemies.
Now, in the aftermath of this disaster, he was about to throw it all away.
Letting out an exhale, Ulannium turned away from the holo-terminal and walked down the corridor to the passenger compartment, his slight build easily cutting around the excess of people and supply crates packed into the corridors. He knew full well that Future’s Vision – the last ship to lift off Tython – was practically overflowing with survivors from the evacuation.
The galaxy behind them had already begun to feel the Jedi’s absence. Word had reached them just before the evacuation that Coruscant was being blockaded by yet another flotilla of Eternal Fleet ships. He knew such circumstances would devastate a planet like the Republic capital world where untold billions of people lived. Even with its extensive network of underground microorganism farms, his home planet relied heavily on the surplus of at least twenty agricultural worlds to fulfill their daily food needs. Even with rationing, people would be starving within days.
Ulannium’s appeals to Chancellor Saresh to seek an armistice with the Sith Empire so they could focus on the mutual threat of Zakuul had all been rejected out of hand. As had everyone else’s.  
Another failure. He privately lamented. The people of the Republic, and the galaxy, were paying for the failures of the council. And of Ulannium.
He wondered what his parents – killed during the last Sack of Coruscant nearly twenty years before – would think of him now.
Would they have been proud? Would they have been ashamed? Would they regret sending their Force-sensitive son to the Jedi in the first place? Or would they have logically reasoned that he would have almost certainly died along with them and his sister on Coruscant during the bombardment if he had stayed?       
Ulannium wished he knew.
As he passed among the dozens of Jedi packed into the cargo bay, his eyes caught sight of Denielle offering comfort to a Republic soldier who’d been wounded in the arm during the evacuation. The medical bay was too small to support this many wounded, so the Jedi – and a handful of others who had joined them – were making due where they could. To that end, the young Zeltron had been knighted only two days ago, just before the attack on Tython had begun. Her ‘Jedi trials’ had been Zakuulan invasion these last few months. Despite her youth, she had done the order proud. Still, she had been forced to grow up far too quickly.
All of us were. Ulannium thought silently to himself, reflecting on his own life. He’d been born into a galaxy at war that had culminated with the death of his family, and he couldn’t deny those events had shaped him.
Putting those thoughts aside, the young Jedi Master pressed on, finally reaching the medical bay. He, too, should have been assisting in the healing efforts, despite his fatigue. Most likely, with so many losses in the last few years, he was one of the most skilled Jedi in Force healing remaining. Those with his gift were in high demand.
But right at this moment, he had an unpleasant task to accomplish first.  
Now standing in the doorway to the med bay, Ulannium gazed into the cramped chamber, where the most grievously injured were being treated.  
It was then that he saw her.
Nadia was hard at work assisting Archiban “Doc” Kimble in treating yet another one of the wounded evacuee. Her personal healing technique was unrefined, but her dedication and her compassion were serving her well in this role as a de facto nurse.
Nadia Grell. Jedi Knight.
Even now, three years later, the very notion filled him with pride.
Looking downward, Ulannium recognized the injured Jedi they were treating as Laranna Fain. The veteran Jedi Guardian and the daughter of Master Duras Fain had long since recovered from her experiences aboard the Carida years ago when she’d slain many innocents while under the sway of Lord Vivicar and his ‘Dark Plague’. Ulannium, with the aid of Tharan Cedrax, had ultimately shielded her from the dark lord’s influence, setting her on a path of recovery.
Another memory. He thought to himself. Another of my great ‘victories’.
Those so-called victories all tasted so hollow now. Laranna Fain might survive this day, but so many others had fallen.
People like Nalen Raloch.
Despite the intense circumstances, Ulannium found himself admiring Nadia as she worked. Even working past the point of exhausting and concentrating on her work so intently with a furrowed brow, she was as beautiful as ever.
Nadia had come so far since he had met her all those years ago. Given her age and the tragic death of her father, most would have expected it would have taken her a decade or longer to have earned her place as a Jedi Knight. She’d easily beaten that estimate, achieving her Knighthood just over a year after becoming his Padawan. During the last few days, she had served magnificently in aiding the evacuation, leading a series of pre-emptive strikes against Zakuulan positions before assisting Gnost-Dural and Ulannium in extracting the Jedi Archives from the Temple. Her combat outfit, inspired by that worn by Satele Shan, was lightly damaged with frayed edges and burn marks, but Ulannium was satisfied that Nadia herself was uninjured.
Satele…
Grand Master Satele Shan, leader of the Jedi Order for more than a decade and their champion in the first great war against the Sith, had fallen out of contact with them five days ago during their evacuation preparations, claiming to have a formulated a plan to stall the Eternal Fleet’s attack. Her final communique had been to effectively recognize Ulannium and Gnost-Dural as the Order’s leaders, and to advise them to continue their plans. Ulannium could only assume her delaying tactic had succeeded; the assault had come two days later than he’d expected based on his calculations. Regardless of whether Satele had sacrificed herself or not, her efforts had likely saved countless lives.
He wondered if the real reason she’d left had been because the order was abandoning Tython, the world she herself had once led the rediscovery and resettlement of after the signing of the Treaty of Coruscant years prior. Publicly, Satele, Ulannium and the council had presented a united front. To the order and to the Republic.
Privately, they’d had their differences. Ulannium had pressured into implementing several reforms that had no doubt rankled the more ‘traditionally minded’ among the Jedi. Despite their challenging relationship, Ulannium now regretted that he’d left things with Satele the way he had. He had never expected to feel her absence so acutely. He certainly had never wanted her title or her job.
The burden of leadership wore heavily upon him, considering Satele was not the only member of the Council to have ‘departed’ recently.
Bela Kiwiiks and her apprentice, the Sith Pureblood known as Praven, had been transporting a small group of Jedi younglings to Tython from an auxiliary enclave to join their coming exodus. Since her retirement from active field duty, the Togruta Jedi Master had been most active in nurturing and protecting the Order’s youngest recruits. When their ship had been cut off from Tython as a result of the fighting, Kiwiiks had sent an encoded transmission to inform them that she and her immediate charges were safe, but she’d decided that they would not be joining the Order on their retreat into exile. Kiwiiks gave assurances that she had a plan for the younglings’ survival and education. True to form, she had finished her message with the ubiquitous ‘May the Force be With You’.
Ulannium had been concerned with her plan and had proposed a search and retrieval mission. Gnost-Dural, however, had declared himself satisfied.
“She must find her own path, both for herself and her young charges.” The Jedi Archivist reminded him at the time. “Besides, there are many more younglings here on Tython who we are responsible for.”
The implications of Dural’s words were not lost on Ulannium. Wherever they were headed, Dural was clearly not expecting this to be a brief exile. The Jedi needed to preserve their future. For an order of beings who strongly discouraged traditional sexual reproduction among their numbers, that meant they needed to bring the children with them so the Jedi would have someone to teach. Just as Ulannium had been taught so many years ago as a child on Uphrades.
Other Jedi Council members had gone missing or had given their lives in the faltering defense of the Republic, with the most heroic sacrifice coming less than an hour before by Master Oteg. The Jedi admiral and the last of his fleet had given their lives against the Zakuulans to cover the Jedi’s escape into hyperspace.
Though Syo Bakarn hadn’t been on the council in years, Ulannium had also felt the absence of his old mentor. He’d not been able to visit with him in person; despite his title of Barsen’thor and his place on the Council, Ulannium had accepted that he need not know where he withdrawn to after their confrontation on Corellia years before, when the First Son had been defeated. The Jedi Master had deserved his peace. Instead, they had exchanged encrypted messages from time to time, but even these had become infrequent once the Zakuulans had invaded. The risk of interception had been too great; the time too short.
He now wished he had written one more letter to Master Syo. He wished he had sought his wisdom once again, if only for the last time.
Ulannium and Gnost-Dural were – effectively – all that remained of the once-vaunted Jedi Council, supposedly the wisest Jedi in all the galaxy. And they had been reduced to leading a group of beleaguered refugees into hiding while the rest of the galaxy suffered.
As a Jedi Master, Ulannium fully understood the futility of dwelling on the past as he was. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but think about what might have been. He had lost so many friends over the years, either through diverging pathways or – more often – those allies becoming one with the Force.
He remembered Hallow Voice, the leader of the free Esh-kha, who had proclaimed him Sky-hunter. He had led his people into exile after the defeat on Ord Mantell; Ulannium could not fault them for their choice. The Esh-kha had fought and bled for the Republic. He hoped his old friend still lived, and that he was leading his people in peace.
He remembered Gaden-Ko, the Voss Mystic, who had joined with the Rift Alliance to learn more about the galaxy, and perhaps about himself. Despite holding a position of leadership amongst his people, the young Force-sensitive had viewed so many things with an innocence of youth that Ulannium had found refreshing. He had been a delight to teach. But when Voss itself came under the threat of the Eternal Empire, Gaden-Ko had regretfully withdrawn his commandoes from the Alliance, taking them back to Voss. Zakuul’s effective interdict on that world would have prevented any further communications, and Ulannium could only hope his former protégé and ally was well.
But even more deeply than those two, Ulannium missed his old crew.
Holiday had departed not long before the war with Zakuul had begun. With her enhanced capabilities, she’d wanted to fully explore herself and she couldn’t do that from their ship. Ulannium had been sorry to see her go, but he recognized that new experiences were critical to personal growth, and he’d been impressed when Tharan had given her his blessing as well.
After months of opposing the invasion alongside the crew, Tharan Cedrax had finally left, claiming to have been offered an opportunity to research technologies that would turn the tide against the Eternal Fleet. In truth, Tharan had seemed to go adrift without Holiday in his life, becoming more withdrawn. Privately, Ulannium suspected the scientist had been drinking to excess. He knew there were things his old friend wasn’t telling him but accepted that – like Holiday – Tharan had to make his own path. Ulannium could only hope that path had led Tharan to himself.
Like Gaden-Ko, Zenith had departed when his home planet was threatened, returning to Balmorra. The industrial world, like so many others, was under siege to the Eternal Empire, and the former guerilla fighter seemed eager to resume his old trade in light of “Republic ineffectiveness”. Ulannium had always known the Twi’lek revolutionary would put his home ahead of the rest of the galaxy and so he was not surprised. Although they’d been very different people, the Jedi wondered if perhaps it had been Ulannium who hadn’t learned enough from that association.
Qyzen Fess had been one of his closest friends and allies since before Ulannium had even been named a Jedi Knight back on Tython all those years ago. In addition to Qyzen’s exceptional abilities as a tracker and fighter, Ulannium had learned much about weighing the value of traditions against the need for every people to change and adapt from the old Trandoshan hunter. He wished they’d remained together for longer, but once it became clear the Jedi order’s priority was to preserve its existence, Qyzen had regretfully made his exit.
“Many points to be earned for the Scorekeeper fighting Zakuulans, Herald.” He had declared. “Even in dark times, we must still be hunters.”
Part of Ulannium found himself agreeing with Qyzen. But even the Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order had been unable to find a way to turn the tide against Zakuul’s onslaught.
These departures had reduced his old crew down to two.
Lieutenant Felix Iresso had gone years without promotion despite a multitude of accomplishments, commendations and medals. Apparently, Republic command had a long memory concerning Felix’s memory loss, even in times when experienced field officers were in short supply. The soldier had proven his loyalty many times over, finally refusing orders to transfer him to the frontlines so he could remain by Ulannium’s side. He had effectively gone AWOL from the Republic military, and had matters been less chaotic, he’d have risked arrest in the Republic. He’d sacrificed everything for Ulannium and the Jedi because he believed they needed him the most.
And he’d been right.
Inevitably, Ulannium’s thoughts circled back to Nadia, even as he watched her treat more patients.
Even early in their association, he had recognized his feelings for her. Her innocence, her intelligence, her beauty and her determination to do the right thing all spoke to him in a way he couldn’t put into words. Naturally, as a Jedi - and as Nadia’s master - he had doggedly resisted those thoughts. He’d spent hours meditating on his dilemma, attempting to analyze the situation logically. Senator Tobas Grell had entrusted his daughter’s safety and training to him, and to him alone. Were it otherwise, he would have had her placed with a new Jedi Master, one who would not experience such complications.
So Ulannium had held fast and true.
… Until the moment that Nadia herself - minutes after being Knighted - had pressed her lips to his. From that moment forward the dam had burst and his famous stoic Jedi resolve was lost.
It had taken the two of them a long time to find their feet again. Once they had, he could not imagine his existence without Nadia in it.
There had been no formal ceremony to mark their wedding a year later; simply an exchange of vows in the custom of Nadia’s people. Ulannium had not added to his Mirialan tattoos since he’d been a child; but for the first time since he could remember, he’d wanted to mark his body to declare himself hers. To celebrate their love and joining. He had not, of course. Doing so would have resulted in expulsion from the order for the both of them. But the thought had never completely escaped him.
He didn’t know how he would have made it through the last few months - or the last few days - without Nadia’s strength and support behind him.
Reassuring as Nadia had been to him, however, Ulannium found his thoughts drifting to his old friend, Corellan Halcyon.
Believed killed at the start of the war with Zakuul, the Order, the Republic and – perhaps! – the galaxy itself had sorely missed the Hero of Tython’s presence.
Ulannium knew that he certainly had.
The Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order had long heard the whispers around the temple on Tython concerning his own path. They whispered that he was the best Jedi of his generation. They whispered that his knowledge of the Force was unprecedented for one so young. They whispered that his leadership and diplomatic talents were without equal. They whispered that if Ulannium had not already been serving as Barsen’thor, it would have been he and not Gnost-Dural who would have been tasked with preserving the Jedi Archives.
Some had even (quietly) whispered that one day, he, Ulannium Kaarz, would succeed Master Satele as the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.
But for all of those accolades, he was not Corellan Halcyon.
Ulannium Kaarz may have been the ‘model Jedi’ of his generation. It had been centuries since a younger Jedi than himself had been named to the Council.
But Corellan had been their champion. Their hero. The great warrior who had always found a way to pull victory from the jaws of defeat so that the order and the Republic could survive one more day. He had been the one who would never give up, no matter the odds.
Ulannium hadn’t felt Corellan’s death during the attack on Darth Marr’s expedition fleet less than a year ago. Given their shared history and their connection through the Force, that detail had surprised him and had even given him cause to hope. But as each defeat against the Eternal Empire had driven the Jedi and Republic back, that hope had slowly evaporated. Knowing Corellan as he did, there was no chance whatsoever he would simply sit the war out in quiet retirement while the galaxy burned. He certainly could not sense him anywhere in the galaxy through the Force.
No. His friend – his oldest friend – was almost certainly dead.
He remembered that time they’d shared drinks at the cantina on Carrick station. It had been a few months after their joint operation against Darth Malgus at Ilum and they’d found a few minutes to reminisce on their shared childhoods on Uphrades, and on the strange turns their lives had taken since then. Corellan had – with an eloquence that Ulannium would have once thought beyond him back when he’d been an awkward youth – explained how much Ulannium had inspired him back when they’d been younglings.  
“It meant the galaxy to me, Ulannium.” The Hero of Tython had concluded. “The meditations, the studying, all of it. It helped me apply myself to something other than lightsaber training.”
The human had smiled across the table at the Mirialan.
“I’m a better Jedi today because of you.”
Ulannium had blinked at this revelation, then sipped his own drink. Taking a moment before setting the glass down, he looked back at Corellan, his bright green eyes looking into Corellan’s pale blues. If he’d ever questioned whether their friendship had survived into adulthood, those had been answered this day.
“I’m a better person today because of you.” He answered.
It had been in Corellan’s memory that Ulannium had persuaded the Jedi to take in Doctor Kimble when he’d contacted them. The field medic had been a member of Corellan’s crew before the Hero of Tython’s death, and Ulannium felt there was little question that such medical expertise would be sorely needed. “Doc”, as he was called, had indeed proven himself an asset to the Jedi and Nadia had only had to have a word with him once about flirting with female members of the order. Since then, he’d been impeccably professional. Ulannium - who hadn’t heard about the situation until after the fact - had decided to take the situation as a measure of Nadia’s growing talent for conflict resolution.  
Looking back now, Ulannium fervently wished he had been a better friend to Corellan. The interests of the Order had required that he’d made several… questionable decisions over the years, some of them indirectly impacting the young Jedi Battlemaster. Ulannium would like to have told himself he had done so due to necessity; that the war effort against the Sith Empire – combined with the mistakes of others – had prevented him from acting as a friend ought to have. But… no. That was the trap the generation of Jedi before him had fallen into. Satele Shan, Bela Kiwiiks, Jaric Kaedan and Syo Bakarn… each had achieved remarkable, even legendary feats as Jedi. Each had ultimately fallen short of upholding the ideals of the Jedi because of various forms of self-delusion. They had managed to convince themselves that whatever actions happened to benefit themselves and their fellows also benefitted the order and the Republic.
Ulannium refused to repeat their mistakes. He would face the consequences of his actions with open eyes.
In the unlikely event that he did see Corellan again – whether in this life or in the next as part of the Force – Ulannium promised himself that he would tell his old friend everything.
Even if the price of those confessions was their friendship.
As he continued to stand at the entrance of the med bay, Ulannium reflected on everything he’d accomplished to get to this point, and everyone he’d lost.
He didn’t know if it had been worth it. He wondered if he ever would.
Ulannium gave one last glance at Nadia where she was still helping Doc treat the wounded. As if sensing his presence, the young Sarkhai glanced up and caught his look. She gave him a reassuring smile and nodded to him in understanding.
Nadia knew what he was about. They’d spent hours talking about it.
He knew he was about to destroy her future as well. All the work she had put in to becoming a Jedi Knight would be gone. Perhaps the royal family of Sarkhai would keep her on as a diplomat.
Yes, she had achieved the rank of Knight. But they had developed feelings for each other that could not be denied.
Ulannium had ultimately failed as her master.
Now, he was about to fail her as a husband.
Why she’d put up with him and all of his faults, he had no idea. But he knew he had to do this, and she had understood. They would have been unable to carry on as they had once their journey finished, not surrounded by so many other Jedi.
The timing of this was regrettable, but there’d been no question that the Jedi had needed them to successfully evacuate Tython. And if what Master Gnost-Dural had told them about their destination was any indication, they would be unable to move once they reached sanctuary: The security and secrecy of their safe-haven was too important.
It had to be now.
Ulannium gave Nadia a weak smile back, then turned and departed, making his way to the conference room.
“A Jedi serves truth.” Nowan Ko had instructed Ulannium and Corellan years ago, back on Uphrades. The Cathar Jedi Master had used a raft tied to the shore of the coastline of the line to help illustrate her point. “Be as diplomatic as you must. Show as much compassion and kindness as you can. Use deception consciously and strategically if there is no other choice. But remember that the truth is much like the rope, securing this raft.”
With that, she’d drawn her lightsaber and cut through the rope, letting the raft loose on the water. The small wooden craft had quickly been pulled out to sea.
“Once you cut away the truth, once you embrace the open waters of deception, you risk going adrift. Therefore, a Jedi should strive to always be honest.”
Ulannium had been living a lie for the last three years, if not longer.
Master Gnost-Dural certainly deserved to know the truth. No doubt wherever they were headed, he would have learned it sooner or later regardless.
Better to tell him now rather than guarantee discovery later. Ulannium had decided, some days ago when he’d discussed it with Nadia. Whatever his other regrets and mistakes, he could at least meet the end of his time as a Jedi with honesty.
Entering the hectic conference room, Ulannium saw his fellow councilor surrounded by younger Jedi giving reports on the evacuation.
At Dural’s side, standing stoically amidst the bustle, was Lerek Serrus. The former Sith Apprentice who Ulannium had first met during the liberation of Balmorra so many years before. After their confrontation and the death of Darth Lachris years before, the young man had willingly volunteered to join the order. Unlike Zenith, he’d elected to stay with the Jedi, even as the threat of Zakuul threatened his home world. Most recently, he appeared to have appointed himself as Gnost-Dural’s bodyguard. Based on what Ulannium had seen during the evacuation, the former Sith appeared to be doing an admirable job. Master Gnost-Dural was by no means weak, but nor was he the warrior he’d once been. It was a credit to Lerek’s protection that he appeared to have emerged from the fighting unscathed.  
As Ulannium observed the others, he reflected that there would be dozens if not hundreds of reports to sort through. From personnel assignments to remaining supplies to medical reports on the wounded. From his time leading the Rift Alliance to serving on the council, Ulannium was no stranger to the realities of administration or bureaucracy, but this task would prove to be herculean. As he’d been overseeing the fleet’s evacuation, the burden of overseeing the order’s immediate future had fallen on the older master.
Ulannium wished he wasn’t about to add to that burden.
“Master.” Ulannium approached and bowed to Gnost-Dural. “May I please speak with you privately?”
The Jedi Master looked up from his datapad and, after a moment, inclined his head at the request. Around them, it was as if the commotion of activity had suddenly been paused.
“Please excuse us, everyone.” Dural addressed the room. “See to the wounded, and then review the condition of our ships. We have far to go before we reach our destination, and we must ensure that we are not tracked.”
Reluctantly, the assembled Jedi collected their reports and departed. They all looked as tired as Ulannium felt, but they knew their duty. Lerek gave him a nod of respect as he departed, the last one out the door.
Finally alone, Gnost-Dural gestured for his counterpart to take a seat at the table. Ulannium had hosted summits and planned military operation from that very table, but today, he considered it Gnost-Dural’s by right.
“I’ve seen the initial reports.” The older Jedi Master offered, as he poured them each a mug of water from the small cistern on the table. “All things considered, the fact that we are alive at all is a testament not only to the sacrifices of those we lost, but to your leadership and planning as well. We did well to have evacuated so many within such a short window.”
Ulannium watched silently as the Kel Dor fixed the straw of his mask to drink, then sipped his own water.
“It’ll take us a long time to recover from this setback.” he considered, reflecting on his own time his coming of age in the years following the Sack of Coruscant. The Mirialan found he had a difficult time remaining positive given the dire situation. “A generation if not more.”
Dural seemed unfazed.
“Great challenges lay ahead of us to be sure, but do not be disheartened for the future. I have found a place where the Order can heal. And be born again.” He tilted his head. “Indeed. I sent your old Master ahead to prepare it for us.”
Ulannium raised an eyebrow. He had not seen Yuon Parr since before the Eternal Empire’s invasion. Indeed, he’d feared she’d been killed defending some forgotten archaeological dig. He felt a sense of relief to know that she was still alive.
That led to another regret. When he and Nadia departed, he’d be denied the chance to meet with his old master again, and any future communication would almost certainly be out of the question.
“I appreciate that more than I can tell you, Master.” Ulannium answered weakly. “But this is not why I asked to speak with you.”
The Jedi archivist paused for a long moment, setting down his mug and inclining his head again.
“Of course. I assume you wished to inform me about your covert relationship with your former Padawan?”
Ulannium blinked, then felt his jaw drop open as he processed the Jedi Master’s words.
“You…” he stopped himself, hastily taking a sip of water from his glass and swallowing. “You knew?”
Like all members of his species living away from their home world of Dorin, Master Gnost-Dural wore an antiox breath-mask with protective goggles just to survive the atmosphere of other worlds and artificial environments such as ships. This meant discerning anything from his facial expressions was nearly impossible, even to one attuned to the Force. But in this exact moment, Ulannium had the distinct impression of wry amusement coming from the wizened Kel Dor.
“I am old, Master Ulannium.” he answered. “I am neither dead nor blind.”
It took all the stoicism Ulannium had developed over his thirty-two years of life to compose himself.
“You didn’t say anything.” he pressed. “We’ve been preparing for this day for weeks, and you never exposed us.”
Dural made a dismissive wave of his hand.
“There were other priorities.” he offered by way of explanation. “I imagine others may suspect, but if so no one has said anything to me.”
The Mirialan chewed that over. Ulannium always imagined they’d been discreet, but now uncertainty threatened to overtake him. He resolved to stay the course.
“Then you understand why I have to leave.” he finally forced out the words of regret.  
Gnost-Dural took up his mug again, taking a slow draw through his straw.
“You believe that you and Knight Grell must depart the fleet, so as not to compromise yourselves any further.”
The Jedi master’s choice of words gave Ulannium pause.
“How could I do otherwise?” he insisted. “If we allowed this connection for all Jedi, what then? The order can’t operate like that. And if we did make an exception, then I’d be a hypocrite.”  
Ulannium took in a breath and then slowly let it out.
“And I… I cannot let her go, Master. I know it goes against our Code, but it is not within me to sever our bond. I fought against it for too long.”
Gnost-Dural simply sat across from him, regarding his younger colleague for a long moment.
“I am aware of your predicament, Master Ulannium. That is why I am asking that you stay.” He sipped through his straw again. “I cannot formally condone what you’ve done, true, but I refuse to condemn it.”
Ulannium blinked again.
“But why? I am a failure.”
The Jedi archivist set his mug down.
“You are nothing of the sort. I have seen enough of your conduct to satisfy myself, and the Order needs you, Master Ulannium.” Gnost-Dural emphasized his title. “It needs your leadership. And someday, when the time comes, the rest of the galaxy will need you again, as well. I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. I have no intention of continuing this venture without you at my side.”
He picked up a datapad, regarding it. From what Ulannium could see, it was a report on the fighting before the final withdrawal.
“You made the right decisions during the evacuation of Tython, difficult though they must have been.” He continued. “I have seen you send Knight Grell – and other personal associates of yours as well – into danger, all while knowing some of them would not return. You have accomplished what few Jedi are capable of; yes, you have attachments, but you mind those attachments, so they do not control you.”
Dural set the pad back down.
“I have no doubt in your ability to continue to lead wisely – and objectively – moving forward.”
The Kel Dor folded his clawed fingers together in contemplation.
“Though as you’ve indicated, not every Jedi is capable of your mindfulness. I fear many if not most would inevitably falter if put to the test. So in the future, I would ask that you and Knight Grell maintain a certain level of decorum while in public so as not to set a difficult precedent with the others.”  Dural continued to refer to Nadia by her formal title, a fact that wasn’t lost on Ulannium. “And as you say, if we allowed everyone this indulgence, our cohesion would crumble.”
The Mirialan Jedi Master felt a blush come to his cheeks; suddenly feeling like an adolescent. Given that during his own time as a ‘model youngling’ he’d never been scolded for anything more nefarious than reading after bedtime, it was a new experience to him.
“I… understand.” He finally answered. “Thank you, Master.”
Ulannium was startled at how relieved he felt. For all the losses he had suffered of late and the challenges that lay ahead of him, a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
“How can I ever thank you for your kindness and understanding?”
Gnost-Dural reached across the table and lightly patted Ulannium’s arm reassuringly.
“When the time comes, return it to someone else who needs it.”
Taking a moment, he refilled both of their glasses.
“Now tell me, Master Ulannium.” The Jedi Archivist queried. “How did we come to this point?”
END
Author’s Notes: This story – the first chapter in a new series – essentially picks up where one of my previous works – This Moment , ends.
Like Corellan, Ulannium is primarily a light-side character. Unlike Corellan, however, making the “Paragon” choices in the game doesn’t always come naturally to him. To borrow a Dungeons & Dragons term, Ulannium primarily falls into the ‘Lawful Neutral’ alignment. Simply put, he’s working out of a rulebook. When he makes the light-side choice, he does so because the Jedi Code guides him to it. His relationship with Nadia obviously conflicted him for a long time, something I hope to expand on in future installments of this series.
In case it wasn’t clear, this story is canon-divergent where it comes to the pacing of the Jedi Consular-Nadia Grell romance. As written in the game, I find it problematic on many levels. This series based around Ulannium will hopefully address much of that. (Look at that. Here I am writing fix-it fic.) To that end, I’m tagging @walk-ng-saster, who expressed similar sentiments. More of that another time, but on a related note, Nadia should have been recognized as a Jedi Knight sometime before KOTFE, and that is a hill I will die upon.
Regardless of the Legacy in question, I’m intrigued at the idea of the Outlander’s absence during the five-year gap having a dramatic effect on everyone else, including the other class original characters in the player’s legacy. I’ve already written a bit about how Bas’riish, my smuggler, dealt with Corellan being absent. (Click here to read Three Years .)
Now it’s Ulannium’s turn.
I disliked Felix’s Alliance Alert return after Knights of the Eternal Throne. Torturing and traumatizing a character just to make them more interesting is a privilege I reserve for my own characters, thank you very much. So I’m fixing that in my work.
If it wasn’t obvious, Ulannium, Nadia and Gnost-Dural are all headed to Ossus. That’s one of the reasons why you all get a Doc cameo. (Doc is still Doc, but I’m confident Nadia can keep him in line.)
The Jedi Knight and the Jedi Consular are leading vastly different lives during the class stories; in the case of the Hero of Tython, their ship is crewed by a small, intimate group of mismatched personalities. With the Barsen’thor, you do get the mismatched personalities but there are so many supporting characters, it feels like a General Assembly of the United Nations in there. On that note, many jokes have been made about the sheer number of people who ocmugy the Barsen’thor’s ship, and that it seems far too small to be sustainable. I’ve even heard some Doctor Who Tardis references. I head-canon that although the ship follows the same aesthetics as the standard Defender freighter from the Jedi Knight story, it’s actually a much larger vessel with considerable transport capacity, similar to the vessel we see under Jaesa Willsaam’s control during chapter one of the Sith Warrior story, where you wind up fighting (or trolling) a pair of Jedi Knights sent by Nomen Karr.    
I’ve spoken about what happens to Bela Kiwiiks and Praven in my story before.
Many interesting supporting characters appear during the Jedi Consular story who just seem to quickly fade into the background without any satisfying resolution. This frustrates me, and I think is one of the reasons I consider the canon story a waste of potential. To address this, some of those characters appear here.
I’ve spoken about Nalen Raloch before.We never hear from him again aside from a letter you get after leaving Tython.
Laranna Fain makes an appearing here after her introduction in the first chapter of the Jedi Consular story. You cure (or kill) her father on Nar Shaddaa before thwarting (by curing or killing) Laranna on that Republic transport ship in-between planets. We never get a follow-up concerning Laranna and her recovery, which is unfortunate.    
Another example of this is Lerek Serrus, who appears on Balmorra in chapter two of the Jedi Consular story; he’s a Sith Apprentice protégé of Darth Lachris you encounter. He’s memorable first for being a native Balmorran, and second for the fact that if you take the light-side dialogue options, you can talk him into walking away from the fight and re-examining his life choices. Like Laranna, we never hear what happens to Lerek if he lives in the game-story. I try to give him a resolution here.
Yuon Par gets a mention in this piece. She is completely discarded after chapter one of the game story, and by the end, some players assume that Syo Bakarn was the character’s Jedi Master the whole time. That’s a shame because she’s such a fun and quirky character. That’s no disrespect to Syo, who is obviously mentioned in this chapter and who I intend to follow up on.
Master Oteg isn’t Consular specific, but he’s certainly memorable from the The Maelstrom Prison flashpoint. I was sad to give him an ending, but I had this planned for a long time.
I may reintroduce more supporting characters in further chapters.
Nadia is wearing a variant of Satele Shan’s armor set from the game. More on that here.
I’ve mentioned the Uphrades enclave before. The planet appears in the Jedi Knight class story, but the Jedi presence on it was my own creation. Hopefully, I’ll actually get to show some it to you in the future.
The game story canonizes that the Jedi Consular is a Force-healer, even if they are a Jedi Shadow.
Gnost-Dural’s “I’m getting too old for this sort of thing.” line is an Easter egg to Obi-Wan’s line to Luke in A New Hope. Love me some Alec Guinness.
Fun fact – George Lucas based the concept of Coruscant on the planet Trantor from Isaac Asimov’s Foundation series. That’s where I drew the references for micro-organism farms and the twenty agricultural worlds and so on. The logistics involved in supplying such a planet are staggering, a reality touched on in the game story with the Mandalorian Blockade during the first war and after Uphrades destruction at the hands of the Darth Angral and the Planet Prison superweapon in the Jedi Knight class story.
Denielle appears in two of my earlier stories: Training Day and Incomplete. No Tyzen Pyne here, unfortunately, but I will hopefully be covering what he’s been up to in the near future.
Tagging interested parties! @actualanxiousswampwitch​ @anchanted-one​ @cassthechaoticmercenary​ @cryo-lily​ @cuchulainnx19​ @davidoodles​ @eorzeashan​ @exlibrisastra​ @grandninjamasterren​ @kemendin​ @kindredsembrace @lonewolfel​ @lordviridis​ @magicallulu7​ @nekorinnie​ @nyrialydia @shabre-legacy​ @shynmighty​ @space-unicorn-dottaraum @vihola​ @wackyart​ @walk-ng-saster @war-of-wrath​ @swtorhub​
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rikki-roses · 28 days
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Fluffy February Day 28: Shy
SWTOR
Pairing: Setra Rowan and Qyzen Fess: Bffs, hunting companions, basically your weird uncle and his feral niece
Time Period: Shortly after KOTFE chapter 9, Trandosha (Qyzen's recruitment mission)
Minor TW for religious discussion
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Breathe in, breathe out. Emotion, yet peace.
It was almost poetic. Qyzen had been Setra's first companion so many year before (Ten? Eleven? Setra had always been bad at math, and carbonite poisoning made it worse) on Tython.
And now, he was the first of Setra's companions that the Eternal Alliance had tracked down Post Carbonite.
Setra swallowed hard. Even though she'd been given Qyzen's rough coordinates on Trandosha, it had still taken her three days to actually track him.
So why was she suddenly so kriffing shy? She had no reason to be. She and Qyzen had been through everything, seen each other at their respective worst and best. Yes, because Arcann had captured her, Setra had lost her "Points" and been shamed in the eyes of the Scorekeeper, the Trandoshan goddess of the Hunt that Qyzen (and Setra, nominally) worshiped. But, the same thing had happened with Qyzen when they first started traveling together, and the pair had regained his honor; the same could be done for Setra.
But it had been five years, and Qyzen had returned to Trandosha to lead a tribe - something he'd once swore wouldn't happen, he was too solitary. Would he want to join Setra on Odessen? Would he care that she needed to regain her Points?
A twig snapped, and Setra's thoughts snapped back to reality as she twirled around, zhaboka at the ready; with her vertigo issues, she felt safer using her ancestral weapon over her dualsaber.
Only to find herself face-to-face with a young Trandoshan, just as surprised as she was.
"What is, a fleshling wanting to trespass? Too soft to hunt."
Setra snorted as she hung her zhaboka on her back. "Bold of you to assume I'm too soft to hunt, pup, especially with my blade and the Force. Now, I'm looking for an old friend - Qyzen Fess. I've been tracking his camp for the last three days, are you one of his companions?"
She guessed correctly; the youngling did a double take. Then he got a good look at Setra and her zhaboka. Then he put two and two together, blushing (as much as a Trandoshan can) as he wrung his hands.
"Herald! Yes, Qyzen has us told all. Did not know you came. Will bring you to camp."
Setra fell in with the youngster as he led her to their camp, clocking that he was walking with a limp. She picked up enough between the Force and her years of hunting (and experience around similarly-aged Trandoshans thanks to her travels with Qyzen) that it was a recent injury, and the youth was trying to tend to it himself.
"So, what caught your leg? Gotten a chance to talk to a healer yet?"
"Am fine, Herald, is small thing."
Ahh. Stepped wrong on an incline, or in an unnoticed trap. Something silly that his pride won't let him admit.
"Right then, I'll be peeking at it once we get to camp; I brought medicine and have experience as a healer."
The young Trandoshan - Khiso, she learned - tried to protest, but Setra shut him down with a Look (a skill she honed long ago thanks to her adoptive mother and Masters Bre and Yuon). The trek to camp, at least, was on even ground, and they reached Qyzen's camp at dusk. Khiso tried to slink off immediately, but Setra firmly grabbed his shoulder and led him over to a vacant stool.
Setra's instincts won out; Khiso had indeed run afoul of a trap that he'd missed, and the wound had started to fester. Soon they were joined by a circle of older Trandoshans - several of whom Setra recognized and greeted - who promptly scolded Khiso for being so careless as Setra tended the wound, using a mix of the Force and healing salves that she kept in hidden pockets (and preferred over Kolto when hunting).
And then she heard him.
His voice was soft; he was at the other end of the camp, having just returned from scouting. Setra finished her handiwork and stood up, a lump in her throat, all of her confidence evaporating, suddenly shy.
She couldn't find the right words, her mouth dry.
She didn't need to; as if the Force had whispered to him, Qyzen Fess, Setra's oldest and dearest friend, looked up and met Setra's gaze.
They both stared for a long, agonizing moment.
And then Qyzen dropped the report he was reading, and in three long not-quite-running strides he scooped up Setra and spun her around before they crashed to the ground in a hug.
Qyzen shakily touched Setra's cheek, and she placed her hand on his right eye; it had been scarred and blinded in a fight. A fight that Setra should have been present for, and could have saved him in.
"Herald, little one, how? Thought you lost on Zakuul."
"I was. They threw me in carbonite for five years, I only got out a few weeks ago thanks to Lana and some of her friends. Qyzen, I - I lost my Points. The Scorekeeper is pissed at me right now."
Qyzen rumbled in his chest and throat as he rested his forehead against Setra's, not caring that her horns were poking him."
"Who, little one, Arcann? The Emperor?"
"Both. Arcann captured me, the Emperor forced his way into my head. We haven't figured out yet how to remove him."
Qyzen nodded, still rumbling. Despite herself, Setra started purring in response; Qyzen was one of the handful of people who brought it out. After a moment, they stood up and Qyzen started packing his things.
"Come, little one. Have much to do to regain your points and please the Scorekeeper. Will come to Odessen. Maybe retire, after."
Setra laughed as she helped him pack, her confidence restored.
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kelocitta · 10 months
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Unauthorized fucking thing
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Not a big fan of the jedi consular story but you have got to admit the Parkanas lore was cool as balls
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killikhive · 9 months
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having my first playthrough of the consular story be with a dark side character (antaeres) has been really interesting and im really enjoying it
ive been surprised how many of the companions antaeres sees eye to eye with to at least some extent.
there's qyzen, who is equally as unafraid of violence. he may not always agree with what she does- not always going after particularly worthy targets, in his eyes- but he doesn't dispute her ruthlessness. and the whole Scorekeeper's Herald thing, antaeres really likes the sound of that (it feeds her ego lol). she respects him , though maybe not quite as an equal (because I'm not sure she sees *anyone* as an equal, truly). but he's a good fighter and clearly trusts her substantially and that is something she wants to maintain.
tharan cedrax...i don't know much about tharan still, because i think he's annoying and I'm pretty sure antaeres does too. in any case, she has had no reason to keep him around when qyzen is right there. i kind of do want to know what dialogue he has in response to some of the decisions she's made but...i like the other companions better so i hardly ever have him around lol. antaeres tolerates him because, annoying as he is, he might prove useful for his technological skills. she'll let him do whatever the hell it is that he's doing with the understanding that his success may benefit her as well.
and ZENITH!! zenith is my favorite so far, and my god they are so alike. both pragmatic, shrewd, seeing people as a series of calculations of risk and threat and leverage. civil with potential allies but very unlikely to ever fully trust. they have some very similar perspectives, and antaeres respects him for it. i'm not sure whether she and zenith will ever actually be "friends", because they both view each other through that lens of pragmatism so hard. and because antaeres knows that this alliance is only one that she can trust for as long as their interests remain aligned. but in the meantime, in her eyes zenith is a good ally, equally ruthless and willing to do what needs to be done.
i haven't gotten around to having nadia as a companion yet, but antaeres is ...interested in her powers. she doesn't like the risk of anyone being in some way more powerful than her, without there being ways to reign it in, which is kind of what has her interested in potentially taking on a mentoring kind of role to her if the opportunity arises. something something "keep your friends close and enemies closer" (though in this case more of a "keep an unpredictable element, which may be a threat or an ally, close until you can gauge which category they fall under") . gives her a chance to learn the limits of her capabilities, and to give herself leverage over her by a position of authority, in case she does turn out to be a threat. obviously Nadia's still so young but this is just how antaeres thinks <3
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Soft Things
surprising no one who's been watching my descent into madness here is a snippet about Caibos the jedi consular, exploring him from Qyzen's perspective. this is the first time I've done anything trying to capture Qyzen's voice so whoo! expanding my horizons.
Yuon’s new padawan was small and soft, as expected, but he was a very different kind of soft thing. Qyzen did not comment on the fact that this padawan was a Sith; he knew of the Jedi’s discomfort with species that typically existed outside their structure. It was not wise or helpful to add to the padawan’s strife.
He spoke in a slow, measured way, more careful than most young padawans encountering Qyzen for the first time. If he felt curiosity, he hid it well. Qyzen suspected he had met Trandoshans before, until he asked about Jagganath points. This was a more usual conversation: all padawans brave enough to speak to Qyzen here on Tython had been confused by the hunt. Jedi should have been natural hunters, but so few of them were. This one would be no different.
As Qyzen assisted Yuon and her padawan Caibos, he found that Caibos was careful in almost all ways. He did not shy from suggestion of duty or a hunt, but he let his master take the lead, wisely looking to her experience. Qyzen suspected this was one of those rare padawans who came to the Jedi after much life experience had already passed – not a child raised among them, but a traveller looking to a new way of life for peace. His scars bore this theory out.
Qyzen did not expect his hunt to become so intertwined with Caibos’, but the Scorekeeper’s desires were clear. Caibos had a warrior’s way about him, too. There was too much mercy, when he faced his enemy, but that was the way of the Jedi; he had respect for his prey, and he fought honourably. It was clear this honour mattered to him, too.
“I would have taken on that sacrifice,” Caibos had informed Qyzen as they passed the first of Rajivari’s tests. “If I thought for a moment it was real. I only thought – well, it seemed suspicious after what the clues said.”
Qyzen had not spoken, as he had not been sure at the time if this was a truth. He made his decision later, when Caibos knelt before a wounded enemy and insisted on attempting to heal them, even knowing of the traps and lies this place held for them. As the wounded figure vanished and Caibos doubled over, wracked with pain, the padawan let out a gasping laugh.
“I suppose I should have known better,” he said as he straightened. He moved slowly, wincing. The prey’s wounds were his, now. “I thought it was better to be wrong in this case than to be wrong and walk past.”
“Was a good thing,” Qyzen rumbled. Caibos looked up at him, wearing a wide-eyed expression that surprised Qyzen. Then he wheezed, and when he looked at Qyzen again the serious intensity had returned.
“Thank you,” he said. “There may be more tests, Qyzen. We should be careful.”
Even in visible pain, Caibos moved ahead of Qyzen. After Qyzen’s capture, he could not blame the padawan, but he did wish the padawan could trust easier in Qyzen’s skills. To have a soft thing so obviously defending him was shame.
---
The Scorekeeper’s Herald was going to Coruscant, so Qyzen was as well. He would have gone anyway. Yuon needed what Qyzen could give her. He could only hope she did not need more.
On the shuttle to the fleet, Caibos received a call. He shifted around to answer it, shielding the caller from Qyzen’s eyes.
“I was looking for you,” said the woman calling. Qyzen did not intend to listen, but he could hear.
“I’ve been a little busy,” Caibos said. His voice sounded strange. Serenity gone, replaced by earnestness. He had not even sounded like this with Yuon. “What’s wrong? Do you need me? I can come back –“
“Come back?”
If Qyzen had been trying to avoid listening, there was no way to do so now. Caibos seemed to believe this as well, settling back into his seat and letting Qyzen see the profile of the Twi’lek on the other end.
“Yes, Callie,” said Caibos. “I have to go to Coruscant. My master is sick.”
“Your master,” she repeated. “So that was a rumour.”
“What was?”
“One of the other padawans was saying you’d been knighted,” said Callie. To Qyzen’s surprise, Caibos slunk low in his seat like an embarrassed child.
“I was,” he said.
“What?”
“You could at least pretend you’re proud of me.”
“You are fifteen! What was your master thinking? Didn’t the council have anything to say about this? I know the Flesh Raider stuff has everyone busy, but knighting a child –“
“I’m not a child!”
Qyzen looked away from the display. The woman’s displeasure was reasonable, as she would not know Caibos was the Scorekeeper’s Herald. Qyzen could admit, though he trusted the Scorekeeper, he had misgivings now. Caibos must be capable, or he would not be granted these quests, but destinies of this calibre could poison a young soul. Qyzen would need to be vigilant on Caibos’ behalf.
A soft thing, indeed.
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thedeadthree · 1 year
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🦢🐺 KISSED BY THE SUN AND BITTEN BY THE MOON.
logan belongs to the dear @risingsh0t ✧ | template by the lovely @jacobseed ✧ | coloring by @notoriousaesthetics ✧ | doodles ✧ | icons ✧
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