This War Is Not Over...

[out_of_order]

WHO: Cal Kestis and you!
WHERE: The Cal-ibration Room
WHAT: Delving into memories of the past, distant and not so much
WHEN: Throughout June during the event
WARNINGS: Star Wars!!!!...? And all that's implied with it I guess


If one isn't familiar with the interior of a Venator-class start destroyer, the surroundings might make one think they're in some kind of medical facility for the clinical white walls and floors, and only the barest of decoration in the form of a modest potted plant in a corner, an alcove with a built in desk with a pull-out chair beside it. Control panels of some sort are embedded in the wall within the alcove, a flat pallet towards the back of the room with but the bare essentials of bedding.

On the desk is a cylindrical object, a lightsaber for those in the know, but even if you aren't, it does bare the resemblance of a weapon hilt. Not far from it is some sort of handheld tool, an arc welder. Maybe the strangest thing, at least for a Jedi of any standing, is the pair of headphones that sits there off in a corner. But really, who goes poking around other people's things?

Besides, you're not alone here.

The young boy in the room doesn't look like he's even reached his mid-teens. His face is spattered generously with freckles, some almost as intense as his reddish hair, which is cut short, save for the thin tail of a braid winding just off the back of his head. He's dressed in layered brown robes of some kind, a leather belt cinched around his waist, and overall looks like he does a good job of keeping appearances fresh. There's a curious look from him as he regards you.

There is a door to that leads out to the hall, where the color palette is much the same. The corridors are wide and nearly empty, the walls interrupted by backlit panels of geometric grids, an ambient hum of power just at the fringes of one's notice. A clone trooper with yellow-gold painted accents stands idly on guard at the far end not so much on the alert as bored.

Comments

[beholding_archivist]

Has Jon ever been on a star destroyer? Certainly not. He hasn't even been in space. Maybe not point out that detail to him as he finds himself in this unfamiliar setting and takes a few steps around, instantly feeling entirely out of place.

"Well, this is... Neat." He comments to no one in particular. But a clean space like this? Well. He's impressed. Jon doesn't manage to keep his office even remotely orderly.

He then directs his attention to the boy, who looks remotely familiar, but Jon can't exactly place him "Uh- Hello?"

No need to be rude to a kid, right?

[out_of_order]

The boy offers a polite smile, a bow of his head preceding a greeting. "Hello, Archivist." He looks around at the room with a small shrug.

"It...is what it is. Suits its purpose. Sorry I don't have much to entertain guests, but usually I don't expect to have to." He folds his hands behind him, standing patiently, or as patient as he can manage, continuing to watch Jon, although only because it would be rude not to give his attention to a guest.

[beholding_archivist]

It's a little unsettling to be called out like that. It's usually something other avatars would do to mock him before doing things like kidnap him. Or simply try to kill him.

"Ah... Right." He nods, drifting away towards the desk - One of the few places that doesn't appear entirely barren. "Then... I guess we can talk, right?"

But that of course means that Jon can't entirely keep his hands to himself. And being the wise man he is, he of course picks up the unfamiliar weapon hilt to fiddle with.

going right for it I see

[out_of_order]

"Of course," the young padawan replies. It would be strange otherwise, keeping silent, trying to ignore the other like he isn't there, wouldn't it? But as he sees Jon pick up the lightsaber, the boy tenses just a little, a fleeting look of apprehension crossing his face.

The surroundings are dark, otherworldly for the mist that makes it difficult to see anything around you. And then out of the mists steps a tall figure with lavender skin, his ears pointed, his beard trimmed close around the edge of his face. A Lassat, not that you've ever seen one to know, and yet here somehow you do. The lightsaber he holds in his grasp is a mirror image of the one currently in your hands.

Jedi Master Jaro Tapal.

At the back of your mind, you feel that this shouldn't be, because your master is dead. And yet here, because of circumstance, because of the place, the Force? Who knows, but it's something you find yourself accepting.

"Come, Padawan. It is time for instruction," he intones, and his lightsaber ignites- blue springing from both ends of the hilt. Likewise, you do the same, and for a while nothing happens, but you know he's waiting for you to strike first. And so finally you do.

He deflects easily, again and again. Yet he does not attack. Not with his lightsaber, at least.

"Your fear cost me my life," he goads. "You will always be weak."

A few times he swings, if only to push you back. Your frustration grows, you try harder. It's always been difficult to please Tapal, but this time, it doesn't seem like anything you do will be sufficient. Again and again you strike, more and more desperate to prove something. But what?

"Your will is weak. You lack discipline." Another strike. "Fear rules you. As always."

With a shout you finally strike more directly, and immediately that frustration vanishes, turning into shock as your blade plunges right through Tapal's chest.

"Yes," he says, looking down at you as he proclaims his judgment. His hands reach up around yours and the lightsaber, holding them fast, making it impossible for you to break away.

"My blood is on your hands, apprentice."

You continue to tug, to no avail, forced to continue to meet the Lassat's disappointed gaze. "You are a failure. A weakling. A traitor."

Something shatters, his hands tightening their grip on the lightsaber enough to crush the middle of it, effectively gutting out the glowing blue blade. His last condemnation hurts the most, his words like leaden weights.

"You are no Jedi."

You cry out in denial, in anguish as things begin to fade...

Oh, fun.

[beholding_archivist]

Granted, Jon is aware by now that these things can happen, but still can't help but stumble backwards with a gasp once the memory ceases to be and he drops the weapon he has been foolish enough to pick up.

"Jesus!" He exclaims and his attention quickly falls back onto the young Padawan. Okay. Now at least he can properly place the boy.

"That- That was..." Okay. Words. How do they work?

[out_of_order]

There's a pained look on Cal's face as he avoids meeting the Archivist's gaze. He steps forward only to pick up the lightsaber, turning it gingerly in his hands before he sets it back on the desktop.

"...that was just before I was brought to Agra Ten," he says quietly. "...a vision. A test, I think." He shakes his head.

[beholding_archivist]

"I- I see..." Jon says, looking back at the lightsaber "You didn't seem to do very well... I- I'm sorry." He probably shouldn't have seen that.

"Has he always been this strict with you?"

[out_of_order]

His laugh was bitter, too forced. Saying that he didn't seem to do well was an understatement. "That's why my lightsaber's broken. ...it was actually his though. He'd left it to me when... when he died..."

The padawan steps over to the bed, sitting at its edge. "He was a tough teacher. He'd push me to do things, to challenge me. This though... I don't know. I thought I was finally going somewhere. That I was on the right path to...to whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing but..."

He'd failed.

[beholding_archivist]

For someone as young as Cal, the boy has certainly seen a lot already. Many dreadful things that just came with a war. And aside from his order... He had no family to fall back on.

After a moment, he follows the padawan to the bed and carefully sits down next to him, hands clasped in his lap "I'm sorry all this happened, Cal." He pauses, trying to find the right words. "Ah... I- I don't think I can offer any great advice. But I can listen if that helps." Under normal circumstances, Jon would arrange to have names and numbers to specialized counselors prepared, but that's not really an option here. Here, on this planet, they all just have one another to rely on and support. Which may not nearly be enough in some cases, he's aware.

[doubled_speed]

"Dude, who keeps plants in their head?"

Yeah, that's actually Tommy's first thought upon entering the space, the door fading behind him. He walks, human slow, across to the plant, considering it from this direction and that. And not touching. He's learned his lesson about touching at this point. Probably needs permission first.

"You've got the neatest head I've seen so far."

Please, just let him talk about that and not trying to kill you.

[out_of_order]

The young padawan smiles crookedly. "I'm sure that was always there," he says thoughtfully. "But then some things are...different. Maybe it's still there for a reason." He shrugs, giving a faint nod. Maybe he's just as curious.

"...guess I'll take that as a compliment." Really, the last thing he wants to talk about is that last encounter. That they're talking at all says a lot for whatever's happened between then and now, and Cal's glad for it.

[doubled_speed]

Are they talking? Or do they not have a choice? Tommy doesn't know. He also doesn't know how to apologize for what happened. It's hard to say you're sorry.

"Can I touch it? The plant? Any clue what in here triggers weird shit and what doesn't?"

[out_of_order]

It's a weird space to be in. Cal isn't sure how it all works, or what's expected of them, but he's willing to talk if Tommy is. He's just not sure how to go about it either.

Maybe the distraction of the room will be enough to help bridge that. He gestures for Tommy to go ahead.

"It's...hard to remember what was here and what wasn't. Just being here seems to make it inevitable that something will happen." He looks away as he speaks, knowing full well what happened here. And yet perhaps that's why he's here, because it was the last moment before things just went so wrong.

"The only thing I can think of with plants is whenever I'd go exploring planetside, my pilot friend Greez would ask me to keep an eye out for any interesting plants he could put in his onboard terrarium."

[doubled_speed]

"You've seen something like this before?" Tommy asks, shocked. "Sounds like something only telepaths should ever see."

And in his world, they're as rare as Jedi who still are alive would be in Cal's.

"I guess if I touch anything, it's gonna be the plant. The whole Ag-point and all that."

He'd genuinely become appreciative of the things.

[out_of_order]

"...not just seen. This was my room aboard the Albedo Brave. A starship," Cal explains. "I've had visions, flashbacks I guess, of my time here, but this..." He shakes his head. "This is different."

He'd been merely walking the steps of the past before. Here, he remembers things he shouldn't, and clearly it's more interactive.

"Be my guest, Tommy."

[doubled_speed]

Well, if he's being invited. Tommy grins and reaches out, his fingers stroking a leaf of the plant with very deliberate attention.

And if it doesn't take him anywhere, he's going to enjoy just basking in the plant.

[out_of_order]

And suddenly, there's plants, everywhere.

The trees here in Kashyyyk are huge, and that might only be realized belatedly for the unfamiliar for the fact that the nearby 'walls' in fact turn out to be the hollow insides of an outstretched branch.

You run towards it, jumping and somehow continuing to run along that grooved wall of bark. When it reaches an end where the bark has broken away, you leap across to the opposite wall, repeating until you've reached more sturdy ground. But then 'ground' is a very flexible term here, knowing you're already probably miles up. The Origin Tree is the tallest in Kashyyyk, but within its branches you can easily forget you're up in a tree and not just some other world.

Continuing onward, you reach a drop, and below, you see it, the great Shyyyo Bird, a revered creature that may very well be the last of its kind. And it's hurt from the literal run-in with the Ninth Sister's ship that had probably saved your life.

It's a pretty steep fall, you manage to leap down to the same level where the great creature lies. Its head alone is huge enough that were it so inclined it could probably grasp you whole within its beak. Behind you, BD-1 borbles, the desire to help the thing mutual as you continue cautiously, not wanting to spook it.

You call out to the bird as you approach, trying to keep it calm as you reassure it, unsure that it will understand words, but hopefully it will understand intentions. BD-1 moves ahead and scans the bird's wing, locating the injury, a piece of the Ninth Sister's ship stabbed right into the meat of it.

"This is going to hurt," you warn the bird, stepping towards the wing. "I'm sorry." You outstretch your hand, focusing as you use the Force to pull the ship shrapnel free. The bird cries out in pain, and BD-1 quickly expels a stim in your direction. Snatching it out of the air, you quickly apply it to the injured wing to boost the healing process, backing away immediately to give it some room as the Shyyyo bird rises. It inspects its wing and then tips its great head towards you in gratitude. "There you go. It's the least we can do," you say as your fingertips brush its head.

It lets out a joyful shriek and then pumps its large wings, taking off, but not too far. Following it along a winding branch, you find it waiting for you, and what's more, it seems to want to give you a lift. Once you've climbed aboard its back, it takes off into the sky. Below, you can see much of the planet yet untouched by the Empire, a relief that the sprawling wilderness still fights its own fight.

And then the bird circles back, and you can truly take in the Origin Tree and its sheer immensity as it towers above even the mountains you'd seen. The bird descends towards the higher branches...

[art_of_war]

While not the Venator class, Thrawn was well versed in a Star Destroyers layout. The boy was obviously human and obviously a juvenile. He looked to be little more than a child, actually. And his red-gold hair was cut in the distinctive manner of a Padawans, which led to the assumption that this boy had been apprenticed to the Jedi.

Thrawn is familiar with lightsabers and thus passes that by to instead focus out of curiosity on the headphones. They looked to be of a pre-clone war era design.

"Interesting. I wonder how it is you are able to find sunlight for the plant's health while in space."

[out_of_order]

Headphones aren't a usual part of Jedi equipment of any rank, and given the sparseness of the room, seem almost a luxury. Cal remembers the room well enough to know what shouldn't be here and what should, and for the moment the Chiss takes up a very large part of the former.

He doesn't seem terribly surprised that the other has figured out where they are.

"I never really wondered about it," he admits, glancing from Thrawn to the plant he'd spoken about. "Maybe it was chosen because of its hardiness. Or maybe some of the lighting mimics natural sunlight." It's an interesting point that makes him wonder that he should ask Greez more about their terrarium aboard the Mantis.

[art_of_war]

Thrawn used a single finger to lightly touch a single one of the plant's leaves.

"Then you did not put it here?"

Thrawn had an idea who he was speaking to already but he did not seem interested in Cal and did not look away from the plant.

[out_of_order]

Cal begins to shake his head, but before he can verbally reply, things just suddenly seem to fade and blur out around Thrawn the moment he makes contact with the leaves.

The Shadowlands are aptly named, the foliage in this area particularly dense, and such a contrast from the other wooded areas of Kashyyyk that you could almost think you've stepped onto another planet without realizing it.

Here the area is even more damp and although cooler for the darkness, the humidity lingers, an ideal environment that spawns various fungi and many a glowing specimen of vegetation. You can sense it, how alive everything is here, and how all the more dangerous it's become.

The familiar white armor of a Scout Trooper is hard to miss, and boldly this one runs across the mushy ground and the unusual blooms, shock baton extended and ready. However the attack doesn't come from you, even as you tense, hand over your lightsaber. The very ground seems to swallow up the trooper in an instant, but this ground has teeth and it clamps tightly- some kind of carnivorous plant, and upon closer look there's a great many that grow in the area. The trooper is gone, and once again you find yourself alone, well, save for your droid buddy who clings dutifully to your back.

You make your way quickly through the plant-infested are, well out of the snapping maws' paths. Other plants snake along, glowing red and seeming to track your every move, but a quick flash of the lightsaber dissuades them from following, if for a moment. Beyond, more Imperial Forces brave the wild landscape, but Stormtroopers seem sorely prepared for their very surroundings attacking. The Purge Trooper fairs much better, a nightmare in black, his weapon trailing electric violet as he charges you, and nothing, not even chomping plants, will dissuade him from taking down a Jedi. He swings his electrostaff around, and you meet it with the blazing blue of your lightsaber...

[art_of_war]

Thrawn already assumed he was watching someone else's memory based on the collection of jungle plants alone. Realizing that it was Kashykk made a certain amount of sense, but Cal couldn't have known about the information provided by Chiss reconnaissance.

He stood to the side and watched as the staff impacted with Cal's lightsaber. This time he doesn't speak and simply observes.

[out_of_order]

The Purge Troopers are notably more skilled than the Stormtroopers, their stance and strength speaking much of their experience. They were specifically honed for this purpose, for taking down Jedi.

But you've beaten other Purge Troopers before. After parrying, you throw your hand outward, using the Force to repel the other. You know it won't be nearly as effective against him as the others, but it gives you space. Gives you time to use your lightsaber to deflect the shower of panicked blasterfire from the other troopers behind. Also, you haven't forgotten the plantlife.

The Purge Trooper vanishes between the massive jaws of another plant, and your saber easily deflects the wild shots from the lone surviving Stormtrooper that's managed to avoid being eaten, however not so his own blasterfire as it comes back at him, striking him down.

The electric tinge of anxiety through the Force lessens, external hostility for the moment, dealt with. You keep going, deactivating your weapon, but ever cautious.

Cal breathed out a sigh as the memory faded, looking cautiously at the Chiss. The first time he'd met Thrawn, the man hadn't been in uniform. Maybe they were far across time and space from the galaxy they knew but what sort of reaction would this person have, seeing such action against the Empire he might be serving.

[art_of_war]

If Cal thinks any of this is a revelation to Thrawn, he's mistaken. The Inquisitors were searching for Force-sensitive children, much to Thrawn's distaste, but they also used lightsabers despite not being Jedi. It was no surprise there are weapons that could match a lightsaber. If this was Kashykk it must also be before Kashykk was made a planet-wide prison.

With his hands clasped behind his back, his voice remained steady and calm.

"You need not be afraid of me."

[out_of_order]

It was not so much that as just being anxious about anyone with ties to the Empire, all within good reason. His life recently had been nothing but evading Imperials or trying not to get killed.

The padawan continued to watch Thrawn, but he nodded slowly. "I haven't had the best experience with the Empire." As if that hadn't been obvious enough from just that memory. But as a survivor of the Purge, there was probably enough to fill in for how difficult it had been for him.