Star Wars: A New Legacy

Broken Off.

So much has happened since last I was able to write. I have faced much conflict, and made many discoveries, allies, and deadlier enemies.

I can feel my connection to the Force growing deeper, gaining a width and breadth I never thought possible for me personally. I have faced down a Darth in combat, and I have spat upon the Emperors face.

I am a Jedi now. Not just a fringe educated adept, but I believe I can safely consider myself a Jedi Knight.

This should be a time to celebrate, I have spoken to THE Luke Skywalker, Grandmaster Luke Skywalker! And he himself acknowledged me as “Jedi Knight” And… I found her! I found my old Master. Cree. She’s even more beautiful than I remembered, The foggy memories and boyhood fantasies do her no justice.

So much else has happened, but I cannot do it justice here. As much as I regret our expulsion from the Broken, I cannot blame the Captain, or Blizz.

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Another Bag of Bones
Ahzoth Adventure Log

FUMP.

The synthetic fibers strained, slid against each other in their five, woven layers.

FUMP.

The padding groaned. The chain creaked.

FUMP FUMP.

All the finely ground powder dangling in the bag hisses as it spun.

Ahzoth reached out and guided the bag back into position; a small reprieve in his assault before he started in again. Fump. Fump. Fump FUMP. He threw his shoulders with every hit, not carrying for the ache in his back. He had little cause to go easy on himself, because easy wasn’t the point. The point was pain, and pain was numbness. The point was to not feel anything when it was over.

Across the room a wheel slide into place with a steel sigh, and the door whined open. The footsteps weren’t heard, except for the one that was replaced with a wooden knock every other step. Of course, Ahzoth knew who it was. This made him hit the bag harder, hoping that maybe some of his fury would steam off him and ward away the man who was not welcome. Jayan was never welcome.

Jayan did not speak for awhile. He leaned on his crutch, watching the man with orange skin and marred visage pound away into the bag that seemed to plead each time it swung and rotated on its chain. When Jayan did speak, it was to the point. “You were always difficult, you know,” he said, “I didn’t know what to expect out of you back then, except for the worst. You never gave me much hope for better. Stubborn and ruthless, so quick to draw blood the first time you had even a training blade. None of the other students could be paired with you, and it had been so hard to convince the council that you could be trained in the first place.”

Sweat ran down like clear snakes off of Ahzoth’s bulky shoulders, flinging venomous droplets as he panted. He stopped hitting the bag, but did not so much as look at Jayan. He clenched his fists, ignoring the sting that welled up as sweat seeped into the red-stained wrappings.

“Still,” the old and crippled master said, “Your faults did not justify my own, and for that I am sorry.”

The room was filled with only Ahzoth’s ragged breath, as heavy and even as an engine. Beneath his skin was a fire, the steam of which wafted off his orange flesh. This fire was not from effort alone, but had been waiting there in its hot coals for years now. Every word that blew threw Jayan’s lips gave more life to the embers.

“What are you doing here?” Ahzoth finally said, “Go back to your cell.”

“It isn’t a cell if it isn’t locked anymore,” Jayan shrugged, “Besides, what can I do with only one hand and one leg left?”

That question didn’t need answering, as they both knew better. Even with missing pieces, a Jedi master was still capable of anything so long as the Force was willing and his mind was clear. Even so Ahzoth was not threatened by him. He’d long stopped letting the man haunt him, because after awhile the phantom had become a target. A target that drove Ahzoth across the galaxy in search of something that would compare, something that was not so out of reach. A target that would challenge him like the memories of this former master did, until he’d beaten down everything he could stand. His goal, once sharp and wicked, was now dulled and bent through the time that had passed. Now that he met Jayan again and realized he could not bring himself to end the man’s miserable life, that old target he once sought had long fell from its chain and crumpled on the floor. At what point had it done that? How long had he been striking out at nothing? He stared at the gently swaying bag, into the void of his thoughts, and realized that he left that old target behind long ago, leaking its sand as the days went on, and on without it.

“I’m grateful, Ahzoth,” Jayan said. His relief was genuine and his voice was soft, gentle. “For sparing me, yes…but I’m also grateful that I was wrong about you after all. You’re not the kind of person I was afraid you’d become. Maybe you’d like to be, but I think we both know otherwise.”

As his breaths began to slow, Ahzoth started to chuckle. Whether his laugh was bitter or jovial could not be discerned, but he was smiling. He turned and drove his bloodied fist into Jayan’s face. A satisfying crack followed and Jayan staggered back, lost his grip on the crutch and fell to the floor with dazed eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Ahzoth looked down at him as he started peeling off the stained, white tape from his knuckles. He stepped over Jayan and made for the door, “You don’t know a damn thing about who I am.”

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Battle, the Escape, and a New Direction

Having defeated Darth Talon (among others), recovered a mysterious holocron, and met the Emperor himself, we made our way off planet in a stolen Sith starship. We put Ahzoth’s prisoner in the brig in place of an Imperial Knight who had been kept there, a possible addition to our crew.

Perhaps our confidence was bolstered from speaking with Luke Skywalker himself through the holocron, perhaps it was simply the heat of the moment, but Mako and I directly and explicitly threatened Darth Krayt before eluding his TIE fighters and entering hyperspace. We have earned his wrath until his death or ours.

Hoping to scrap the ship, we waited at a nearby system to rendezvous with the Broken, but we were attacked at a cantina by a Jedi-seeking bounty hunter. After causing a huge ruckus (including brandishing my lightsaber in public while terrorizing the bounty hunter with spectral visions), we discovered it was in fact Mako’s old “master”.

We left Morokei to tend to the Broken business while we decided to tag along to a secret Jedi Enclave to inquire about several matters. Indeed, we were severed from the Broken due to the heat on our backs, so the Jedi hideout seems the best place to go.

-Deimos

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To Jayan 06
Ahzoth's Journal

What an eventful time for your beloved apprentice, Jayan. Now has come a day you’d once told me would never pass, that I would never possess a light saber of my own. True that perhaps I did not build it, but it is mine and won by my hand.

We escaped a damaged ship floating in space, drifting towards a black hole. Most of us managed to get out alive, and a few could be more grateful to me for assuring that. Although, I suppose the wookie did not appreciate the manner of her rescue, and Mako was upset as well. One of these days they’ll learn the meaning of sacrifice. Did they think it was so easy? I pity the men we had to leave behind, but I didn’t plan on dying for them or losing anyone else for the sake of sentiment. I’ve learned this lesson a long time ago, when I was forced to leave my family.

From there the story gets interesting. We obtained coordinates to a temple, thought to be of the Jedi but… Corruption, you’d call it. It was a temple of my kind, the Sith purebloods. You’re skin would crawl in that place, Jayan, and you would curse me a thousands times to know that while I felt the same dread it excited me. The fear sharpened my senses, my nerves gave power to my strikes. We fought the beasts that had encroached upon the temple, battled the wicked spirit that dwelled in the central hall. She was of the dark side, as you might expect. Do you want to know something interesting? I hated her almost as much as I hate your memory.

The Jedi think only of emptiness, denying what they are inside, and these…sith. The sith only think of emotion, screaming in anger as if that is all their heart is worth. As if all we are is how we feel. Is there no middle for you worshippers of the Force?

After the battle, we went below the tomb and found a cave filled with the raw crystals we need to craft sabers of our own…and more. A man found us in the cave, bearing a red light saber and promising us our murders for having found us in that place. He spouted the same nonsense, shamed me not for the violence in my nature as you did. He shamed me because of what I’m not.

Jayan, I am not and have never been as you saw me. You never did learn that for yourself.

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A Brush with the Darkside

This was the first time I had ever truly faced a Darksider, I do not look forward to my next encounter.

Azoth managed to take the creatures lightsaber, I’m not sure how much I agree with his decision, having a darkside relic around seems like a pointedly stupid idea, particularly when there were an abundance of natural crystals growing within the ruins..

Ah, the Crystals.. They were beautiful, truly, but mine is the most beautiful of all. I could feel it calling to me Cree. I wish I could thank you..

This crystal is the same color as you, you know. The lightgreen of seaweed on Glee Anselm..

Are you even still alive, Master? They say that a Master and Apprentice can feel each other through the Force. I have.. WE have.. a new Master now. But you will always be the one who opened me to the Force..

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To Jayan 05
Ahzoth's Journal

I hate when a deal goes sour. I hate when someone deemed reliable hamstrings me. Granted, I guess it wasn’t anything personal. The bitch probably got a really good cut trying to take out part of the Empire in Exile. Hasn’t really been a good year for them, has it Jayan? First their princess, and now their flag ship. Lots of their lackies died with it, too. Poor bastards, but there’s worse ways to go than running out of oxygen. Pass out and never wake up.

Wasn’t much we could do about that if we wanted off that ship. I don’t owe their faction anything, and they had the nerve to ask our group for favors. We did a favor by conducting the trade. Sorry it didn’t work out, now we gotta save our own skin.

The boss is gonna hear about it soon as we get back in, and I hope they find that traitor and string her up by her own entrails.

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Droids and Blackholes

This was an extremely difficult time. I made the choice to leave a great many men and women to their deaths, but being fair to myself and our group, I doubt very highly there was very much else we could have been expected to do.

I can take solace in the fact that I went back to save a small number of them, but then I sent them to their likely deaths, trying to secure the hanger and shuttles.

I did what I had to do. It was the only real choice to make.

That’s what I tell myself at any rate.

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ShockBoxing

This was an extremely. .. strange.. day. I really have no idea how to put it into words, so I’ll try to forgive myself if this entry is.. eh.. screwy?

I never thought much of Shockboxers, but we nearly got our asses handed to us by a beast of the breed, after he had already nearly killed another boxer. ( I feel good about saving him, but it was completely shocking that he would throw his Wallet at me in gratitude. Not that I’m complaining)

Azoth has some seriously deep seated issues, I really need to keep an eye on him. As a non-human myself, I certainly understand his frustration. Though I must admit that I have never met another.. Uh.. Whatever he is. I’m really not 100% certain.
But he needs to control himself… All this being said, I still feel good having him at my side in a fight.

Oh, and I got laid, which was nice. But I also got shot, which.. well, not so much. Damn Bounty Hunters. Also, damn Ship Captains who have more much business savvy than me.
But most of all… damn this rusted out space crud that I’m flying on. I wouldn’t be surprised if it blows up in hyperspace.

That was a bad thought. At least it’s comforting to watch out the window, hyperspace always soothes me..

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To Jayan 04
Ahzoth's Journal

All of my most bitter memories have to do with my flesh, Jayan. All of what you taught me, when it did not involve combat, was how my skin dictates that I am a monster. Can I be anything but enraged when another being cannot see past it? I have no patience in this, nor do I want it. Let any fool look down on me for my appearance, and I will give them reason to fear me for my appearance. I will justify this claim that I am nothing but a bastard child of darkness.

Perhaps it is true that this is a quick path for my hatred. I could have been beaten into the dirt today because of how much I loathe being referred to as “red”. I have heard it all too often, and I think the last of my patience left me when this massive beast of a man, a true monster in his appearance, singled me out with the mention of my flesh hue. I did not care, Jayan. I was tired. Perhaps even looking for a fight, or to prove something that I know not what it was. Fight him I did, no matter how much taller or wider or skilled. I would do so again.

Although, had it not been for Mako I am certain that I would be in a sorry state. He should have allowed for that. Perhaps then I would not still be so angry.

We finished our mission, with a minor detour that was unsuccessful involving a Mandalorian bounty hunter. We were not as successful as I would have liked, but that is the nature of business. The woman we dealt with was cutthroat, and being that we are all hired muscle none of us was well equipped to deal with negotiations not involving a sword or blaster. Regardless, it is pay and it is a job that is done.

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To Jayan 03
Ahzoth's Journal

Seems there is no shortage of soft heads in the Jedi order, is there? I’m sure you would disagree. I cannot even stumble across one hiding in ancient ruins without hearing more inane babble about what you all seem to believe is balance. Serenity. Peace.

The ruins depicted a war, ending in sorrow with Jedi weaping. Why? Is this not emotion? Is this the fall of said Jedi who have succumb to what they have suppressed for so long? Or have they, like myself, accepted that emotions are meant to be felt. Only then have I ever found any sort of peace inside me. The very tenement you had so often shunned me for, Jayan, that is what makes me feel complete and for that you called me evil and self serving. Perhaps I am…but are you not the same as I?

Perhaps remembering all of this is what caused my mind to cave momentarily. I thought of you, standing over me. I thought of that frown and I thought of your indignance and I felt anger surge through me that I had not felt in ages! I had thought certainly that I had faced myself in this, that I had accepted my rage, but no. I had not. I lashed out at my, dare I call him, friend and it was not until I remembered your teachings that I calmed and accepted what I felt.

But I was still angry. I was consumed with it, and no I did not feel any more powerful. I could not overcome my companions, who held me down while this revelation occurred.

Anger is not power, but it is a path to peace. That is what you never realized, my old teacher. That is where you failed.

Within the ruins, when they opened to us, we found another master. A strange species now rooted, quite literally a tree, to the center of the cavern. She has volunteered to teach us in the Jedi arts, but what can she truly offer me if I do not wish to be subjected to more of your falsehoods? We will see, Jayan.

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