STAR WARS
THE GREAT AGE
Book I: Rousing of the Fates
by The Herald
PROLOGUE
The frothing current of the Alderaanian Sea violently mingled with the clawing shore. Far from above, a distant light seeped through the darkness, finding humble abode within the warm eyes of an ancient Jedi Master, who overlooked the constant collision below. The horizon had melted, the night was past it's prime, and all the while, a tender chill trickled through the furs on the Master's bushy face.
It was an invariable routine; standing here, atop this jagged cliff, night after night. The old Master would find this grassy spot and gaze endlessly into the beautiful spectacle of the tide; the clash of seemingly invisible colors. It was a glorious ritual; watching the calm waters caress the rocky shore, cleansing the outskirts of the City of the Jedi, and relinquishing the anxieties brewing within the Master's troubled mind.
Far away, Delaya watched over it's sister, Alderaan, as it slept, shedding a remote light that glistened off the tranquil waves, illuminating the City, whose lampposts had flickered out long before.
Master Bendu Beren leaned heavily upon his sturdy staff as he turned towards the great City. With a delicate stroke, he dried the soothing mist of the sea from his face and immersed himself into another marvel: even the ominous atmosphere of the Alderaanian night could not deny the sheer beauty of the City of the Jedi. The grand temple rose higher than the great hills surrounding it. It's magnificent dome, mimicking the stars, reflected shadows of the comforting cobblestone paths and crevices that bustled early every morning.
However, the stars were losing their luster. Soon they would not be able to protect the City any longer, and the darkness and the wind would sweep through Alderaan's jewel, consuming it and leaving it to ruin. A mysterious twilight was approaching.
This tremor in the Force did not only linger around the City. It was also beating deep within the confines of Master Beren himself. There, it took the form of a creeping sickness: a strange disease that was finally taking its toll on an aged, decaying body.
A splitting cough murdered the silence.
Plunging his staff into the soft ground ahead, Master Beren began the long hobble towards his quarters. Once he would reach the comely cobblestone walkways of the City, he would grapple up the wide, winding marble staircases of the temple, all the way up towards the highest tower, where his simple domain lay. It was a lengthy and grueling trek -- one that brought great fatigue, but with it, great sustenance.
______________________________
"Master, your bactae," hummed a young half-Twi'lek dressed in long white robes. She extended an elegant silver tray with a tall glass, full of soothing liquid, placed upon it.
"Thank you, my dear," murmured Master Beren, as he gradually settled atop his bed. He gently supped the foamy drink and felt a calming warmth rush over him. "Thank you, my dear," he repeated, "but too much kindness may spoil me."
The half-Twi'lek delicately shook her head. "No, Master. It is the least I can do for you now." She paused. "So long have you fathered me and so soon you will leave me. I have yet to show you the gratitude you deserve."
A wide smile sifted through Master Beren's fur. It was hidden but not unnoticeable. "Ze'Losh, you are a daughter. More than one occasion have you brought me great happiness. It isn't something you need worry about. I have great faith in you, my dear, and forsee many good things in your future."
She released a tender sigh and continued to sweep through the Master's quarters, preparing the simple room for slumber. All the while, Master Beren set his glass aside and began to settle into his covers, slowly removing his earthy cloak.
"Really Master, you must stop hiking out like this. It is tiring you. Especially at night. The cold, not to mention the dangers lurching about these days," she trailed off.
Master Beren waved off her worries. "It keeps me strong." He grinned. "When my time comes, I will become one. There is no stopping that, my child. It is the way of the Force."
Ze'Losh descended onto a pillow beside the fireplace and began to feed the flame. The winds howled and the curtains violently tattered away.
______________________________
"Master, I'm completing the valley bend. I'll be regrouping with you in a moment."
Master Garqhuin Padawan rubbed the side of his lean, bearded jaw before responding to his apprentice, on the other side of the communications link. "Acknowledged." Already in deep thought, he brought the comm device closer to his mouth. "Be wary, boy. I feel it may happen again."
"I don't sense anything."
"That's just it, boy. You won't," snapped Padawan, as he continued his circle towards the hill that stood between the Master and his apprentice.
"But how can you sense it, Master?"
"I can't." Padawan paused briefly to tighten his dark cloak under his long, disheveled beard. "But it seems so close. A feeling."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"It's not easy to understand," Padawan retorted. "Even I cannot comprehend it."
Master Padawan trudged up the hill until he reached the adjoining cliff. He was completely enveloped in darkness there. The City was out of sight and underneath him the sea maddened. Wrapping his cloak even tighter, the Master squinted through the freezing mist towards a shape emerging from the east. Glaring harder into the darkness, Padawan managed to discern a cape dancing in the wind.
These physical senses had been failing him lately -- it was an unavoidable attribute of old age. However, Padawan easily overlooked these supposed obstacles. He was a member of the Council: one of the most learned of the Jedi, regarded second in ranking only to the great Master Bendu Beren. A strong knowledge of the Light Side of the Force was all that mattered to Master Padawan, and it was a gift that strengthened with age.
Immersed in the cold, Padawan gave into the Force, extracting a familiar warmth emanating from the east and then -- a quiver.
He barked his apprentice's name as a black smear thrashed in the air, from behind, and slashed through the young boy.
Padawan leaped forward in a concentrated push. His cloak held the air under him as he glided to his feet nearly fifteen yards towards the attacker. With a spin, the Master ignited his saber and struck at the shadow. Blue and red clashed.
______________________________
Master Bendu Beren plunged out of his bed in pain. He let out an excruciating cry that shook through his quarters and faded into the halls. The brown fur on his face was dank with perspiration.
"Master!" burst Ze'Losh. She returned to the room and hurried to her Master's side, propping him up. The fireplace flickered with embers -- the wind had blown it out. Ze'Losh searched her Master's face. "What's the matter?"
He began to step out of the sheets. "It's happened again. Call an extra sentry -- hurry!" his voice wrenched coarse.
"I'm already here, Master Beren." Stepping from the open doorway, a tall Trandoshan emerged carrying a communications device. "Our northern post spotted sabers. Twelve groupings have been dispatched to the perimeter."
Master Beren glanced up at the Trandoshan. "All around? This could be a diversion."
The Trandoshan nodded. "All around, yes, Master."
______________________________
Padawan hacked frantically as the shadow swept left and right repeatedly forcing him backwards. His attacker was an acrobatic warrior and the Master's greatest strategy would be to keep the battle on the ground. Absorbing each constant blow, the old Master began to focus on the Force. His concentration wavered as every heave he tried to reflect magnified in sheer fury.
The shadow bludgeoned Padawan in a frenzy, wrinkling him nearly to claustrophobia. The Jedi began to falter as he was propelled closer to the cliff. Suddenly, the barrage of thrusts halted as the shadow leapt over Padawan's head.
The Master's concentration straightened as the storm subsided.
In a split-second, the dark figure struck the ground behind Padawan and unleashed it's saber in an unmoving, brisk strike. The Master sunk into the mud, barely eluding the red haze, and spun his leg to knock the shadow's feet from under.
The cloudy attacker fell backwards into the air. Rapidly, it balanced and altered it's falter into a backwards flip.
The scant moment allowed Master Padawan to feel the Force around him and in a single swath of the hand, he sent a massive deluge of dust and sand plunging straight, forwards into the face of the shadow.
With a deafening howl, the murderous villain was flung off the side of the cliff, plunging far off into the rugged rocks of the scabrous sea.
______________________________
"He was stronger. Stronger than the other ones," stated Padawan, his voice unwavering.
Master Bendu Beren was slowly pacing back and forth, taking in Padawan's narration of the events that had unfolded.
"That was our third Jedi in seven nights, Master."
Beren paused to glance up at Padawan. "And never have they dared come this close." Beren's whiskers furrowed. "I do not like this. Their scouts are becoming more aggressive with every push."
"This was too close to the City," commented Padawan. "We must act this time. We cannot wait much longer."
Padawan's words hung heavy in the air as the two great Jedi exchanged a powerful stare.
Padawan was the first to look away. Although Garqhuin Padawan was now Master of the Jedi Council, he rarely acted without the consent of his own Master.
Master Bendu Beren had served as leader of the Jedi for many millennia. He was founder of the Order and the City. It was under his mighty gaze that the Jedi came to mold a legendary and peaceful civilization that spread across Alderaan and Chandrila. Though he had trained hundreds of Jedi in his lifetime, none were more disciplined than Garqhuin Padawan.
It was for this reason the Council chose to appoint Padawan as their leader after Master Beren resigned his post. Padawan was not a man of emotion nor a man who took many risks. These traits were what prompted them to promote Padawan and it allowed for an easy progression after such a long and constant reign.
Master Beren gradually drooped onto his staff. "I know, Garqhuin, I know." He shook his head to himself. "Conflict is what I dread. I dread it dearly." The ancient Master tried desperately to compose himself. "I don't know. I do not know," he repeated. "Perhaps there is still hope for them to see the fault in their ways."
Padawan sighed. "No, Master. You must give up that hopeless dream. You have tried so long already. They will not change."
"I have tried, yes. But I find myself asking, has it been enough?"
"Conflict is inevitable. Sometimes it is necessary."
"No!" exclaimed Beren, his voice shook the room. "If you believe that, you have lost already." He strained to examine his old apprentice's visage. "Never is conflict necessary."
Padawan turned to face the window. He felt the slight chill of the air stroke his face. "I understand. But what now? What should we do?"
Beren sighed as he gently lowered his body to the ground. Ze'Losh swiftly came to his side and sat him next to the warm fireplace.
"It is not my place to make decisions for the Order anymore," the Master replied. He waved at Ze'Losh to leave him.
Padawan nodded. "I will call counsel for tomorrow morning then, in the courtyard. Master Starkiller is returning. The entire Jedi Council will be present."
Master Beren smiled. "Good. Now sleep. Tomorrow will be an important day. A day our fates are to be decided."
THE GREAT AGE
Book I: Rousing of the Fates
by The Herald
PROLOGUE
The frothing current of the Alderaanian Sea violently mingled with the clawing shore. Far from above, a distant light seeped through the darkness, finding humble abode within the warm eyes of an ancient Jedi Master, who overlooked the constant collision below. The horizon had melted, the night was past it's prime, and all the while, a tender chill trickled through the furs on the Master's bushy face.
It was an invariable routine; standing here, atop this jagged cliff, night after night. The old Master would find this grassy spot and gaze endlessly into the beautiful spectacle of the tide; the clash of seemingly invisible colors. It was a glorious ritual; watching the calm waters caress the rocky shore, cleansing the outskirts of the City of the Jedi, and relinquishing the anxieties brewing within the Master's troubled mind.
Far away, Delaya watched over it's sister, Alderaan, as it slept, shedding a remote light that glistened off the tranquil waves, illuminating the City, whose lampposts had flickered out long before.
Master Bendu Beren leaned heavily upon his sturdy staff as he turned towards the great City. With a delicate stroke, he dried the soothing mist of the sea from his face and immersed himself into another marvel: even the ominous atmosphere of the Alderaanian night could not deny the sheer beauty of the City of the Jedi. The grand temple rose higher than the great hills surrounding it. It's magnificent dome, mimicking the stars, reflected shadows of the comforting cobblestone paths and crevices that bustled early every morning.
However, the stars were losing their luster. Soon they would not be able to protect the City any longer, and the darkness and the wind would sweep through Alderaan's jewel, consuming it and leaving it to ruin. A mysterious twilight was approaching.
This tremor in the Force did not only linger around the City. It was also beating deep within the confines of Master Beren himself. There, it took the form of a creeping sickness: a strange disease that was finally taking its toll on an aged, decaying body.
A splitting cough murdered the silence.
Plunging his staff into the soft ground ahead, Master Beren began the long hobble towards his quarters. Once he would reach the comely cobblestone walkways of the City, he would grapple up the wide, winding marble staircases of the temple, all the way up towards the highest tower, where his simple domain lay. It was a lengthy and grueling trek -- one that brought great fatigue, but with it, great sustenance.
______________________________
"Master, your bactae," hummed a young half-Twi'lek dressed in long white robes. She extended an elegant silver tray with a tall glass, full of soothing liquid, placed upon it.
"Thank you, my dear," murmured Master Beren, as he gradually settled atop his bed. He gently supped the foamy drink and felt a calming warmth rush over him. "Thank you, my dear," he repeated, "but too much kindness may spoil me."
The half-Twi'lek delicately shook her head. "No, Master. It is the least I can do for you now." She paused. "So long have you fathered me and so soon you will leave me. I have yet to show you the gratitude you deserve."
A wide smile sifted through Master Beren's fur. It was hidden but not unnoticeable. "Ze'Losh, you are a daughter. More than one occasion have you brought me great happiness. It isn't something you need worry about. I have great faith in you, my dear, and forsee many good things in your future."
She released a tender sigh and continued to sweep through the Master's quarters, preparing the simple room for slumber. All the while, Master Beren set his glass aside and began to settle into his covers, slowly removing his earthy cloak.
"Really Master, you must stop hiking out like this. It is tiring you. Especially at night. The cold, not to mention the dangers lurching about these days," she trailed off.
Master Beren waved off her worries. "It keeps me strong." He grinned. "When my time comes, I will become one. There is no stopping that, my child. It is the way of the Force."
Ze'Losh descended onto a pillow beside the fireplace and began to feed the flame. The winds howled and the curtains violently tattered away.
______________________________
"Master, I'm completing the valley bend. I'll be regrouping with you in a moment."
Master Garqhuin Padawan rubbed the side of his lean, bearded jaw before responding to his apprentice, on the other side of the communications link. "Acknowledged." Already in deep thought, he brought the comm device closer to his mouth. "Be wary, boy. I feel it may happen again."
"I don't sense anything."
"That's just it, boy. You won't," snapped Padawan, as he continued his circle towards the hill that stood between the Master and his apprentice.
"But how can you sense it, Master?"
"I can't." Padawan paused briefly to tighten his dark cloak under his long, disheveled beard. "But it seems so close. A feeling."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"It's not easy to understand," Padawan retorted. "Even I cannot comprehend it."
Master Padawan trudged up the hill until he reached the adjoining cliff. He was completely enveloped in darkness there. The City was out of sight and underneath him the sea maddened. Wrapping his cloak even tighter, the Master squinted through the freezing mist towards a shape emerging from the east. Glaring harder into the darkness, Padawan managed to discern a cape dancing in the wind.
These physical senses had been failing him lately -- it was an unavoidable attribute of old age. However, Padawan easily overlooked these supposed obstacles. He was a member of the Council: one of the most learned of the Jedi, regarded second in ranking only to the great Master Bendu Beren. A strong knowledge of the Light Side of the Force was all that mattered to Master Padawan, and it was a gift that strengthened with age.
Immersed in the cold, Padawan gave into the Force, extracting a familiar warmth emanating from the east and then -- a quiver.
He barked his apprentice's name as a black smear thrashed in the air, from behind, and slashed through the young boy.
Padawan leaped forward in a concentrated push. His cloak held the air under him as he glided to his feet nearly fifteen yards towards the attacker. With a spin, the Master ignited his saber and struck at the shadow. Blue and red clashed.
______________________________
Master Bendu Beren plunged out of his bed in pain. He let out an excruciating cry that shook through his quarters and faded into the halls. The brown fur on his face was dank with perspiration.
"Master!" burst Ze'Losh. She returned to the room and hurried to her Master's side, propping him up. The fireplace flickered with embers -- the wind had blown it out. Ze'Losh searched her Master's face. "What's the matter?"
He began to step out of the sheets. "It's happened again. Call an extra sentry -- hurry!" his voice wrenched coarse.
"I'm already here, Master Beren." Stepping from the open doorway, a tall Trandoshan emerged carrying a communications device. "Our northern post spotted sabers. Twelve groupings have been dispatched to the perimeter."
Master Beren glanced up at the Trandoshan. "All around? This could be a diversion."
The Trandoshan nodded. "All around, yes, Master."
______________________________
Padawan hacked frantically as the shadow swept left and right repeatedly forcing him backwards. His attacker was an acrobatic warrior and the Master's greatest strategy would be to keep the battle on the ground. Absorbing each constant blow, the old Master began to focus on the Force. His concentration wavered as every heave he tried to reflect magnified in sheer fury.
The shadow bludgeoned Padawan in a frenzy, wrinkling him nearly to claustrophobia. The Jedi began to falter as he was propelled closer to the cliff. Suddenly, the barrage of thrusts halted as the shadow leapt over Padawan's head.
The Master's concentration straightened as the storm subsided.
In a split-second, the dark figure struck the ground behind Padawan and unleashed it's saber in an unmoving, brisk strike. The Master sunk into the mud, barely eluding the red haze, and spun his leg to knock the shadow's feet from under.
The cloudy attacker fell backwards into the air. Rapidly, it balanced and altered it's falter into a backwards flip.
The scant moment allowed Master Padawan to feel the Force around him and in a single swath of the hand, he sent a massive deluge of dust and sand plunging straight, forwards into the face of the shadow.
With a deafening howl, the murderous villain was flung off the side of the cliff, plunging far off into the rugged rocks of the scabrous sea.
______________________________
"He was stronger. Stronger than the other ones," stated Padawan, his voice unwavering.
Master Bendu Beren was slowly pacing back and forth, taking in Padawan's narration of the events that had unfolded.
"That was our third Jedi in seven nights, Master."
Beren paused to glance up at Padawan. "And never have they dared come this close." Beren's whiskers furrowed. "I do not like this. Their scouts are becoming more aggressive with every push."
"This was too close to the City," commented Padawan. "We must act this time. We cannot wait much longer."
Padawan's words hung heavy in the air as the two great Jedi exchanged a powerful stare.
Padawan was the first to look away. Although Garqhuin Padawan was now Master of the Jedi Council, he rarely acted without the consent of his own Master.
Master Bendu Beren had served as leader of the Jedi for many millennia. He was founder of the Order and the City. It was under his mighty gaze that the Jedi came to mold a legendary and peaceful civilization that spread across Alderaan and Chandrila. Though he had trained hundreds of Jedi in his lifetime, none were more disciplined than Garqhuin Padawan.
It was for this reason the Council chose to appoint Padawan as their leader after Master Beren resigned his post. Padawan was not a man of emotion nor a man who took many risks. These traits were what prompted them to promote Padawan and it allowed for an easy progression after such a long and constant reign.
Master Beren gradually drooped onto his staff. "I know, Garqhuin, I know." He shook his head to himself. "Conflict is what I dread. I dread it dearly." The ancient Master tried desperately to compose himself. "I don't know. I do not know," he repeated. "Perhaps there is still hope for them to see the fault in their ways."
Padawan sighed. "No, Master. You must give up that hopeless dream. You have tried so long already. They will not change."
"I have tried, yes. But I find myself asking, has it been enough?"
"Conflict is inevitable. Sometimes it is necessary."
"No!" exclaimed Beren, his voice shook the room. "If you believe that, you have lost already." He strained to examine his old apprentice's visage. "Never is conflict necessary."
Padawan turned to face the window. He felt the slight chill of the air stroke his face. "I understand. But what now? What should we do?"
Beren sighed as he gently lowered his body to the ground. Ze'Losh swiftly came to his side and sat him next to the warm fireplace.
"It is not my place to make decisions for the Order anymore," the Master replied. He waved at Ze'Losh to leave him.
Padawan nodded. "I will call counsel for tomorrow morning then, in the courtyard. Master Starkiller is returning. The entire Jedi Council will be present."
Master Beren smiled. "Good. Now sleep. Tomorrow will be an important day. A day our fates are to be decided."