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Within the shadows of a distant alley stood a man. Tall and broad shouldered, clad from head to toe in black, his skin, dark as night itself. The soles of his feet were protectively wrapped within the embrace of a pair of bantha hide boots. His legs, shrouded in the recesses of black cargo pants, which appeared a few sizes too large, wrapped about his shoulders, was a black drab poncho, which fell nearly to his knees, a hood was set upon his head; a horde of shadows pervading the innermost recesses of his hood, served to conceal his facial features. Strapped to his right hip, beneath the concealing mass of poncho, was Rhune Wynde: 44 centimeters of machined, and polished ebony, stone-laced with alloy, engraved with runes and glyphs, which when viewed on a moonless light, could be seen to glow noticeably, pulsating with a life of its own.
He stood immobile as a statue, not at all surprised by the crashing ship, or the rock which had curiously struck the trandoshan, for it was he and he alone, who had brought those events to pass. He strode in the direction of Chalmun's Cantina, cutting across the flow of traffic, city denizens and merchants quickly moving out of his path; something about this one whispered against association.
`Hitherr, a way to makke Kenobi; preyyy..'
The voice, if it could be called that rasped in his mind. Pausing, he turned to his right seeing a merchant and two droids on their knees in the hot sand, with hands clasped over their heads. A platoon of stormtroopers stood in encirclement formation with weapons drawn. Drawing on his vast knowledge and power in the dark side of the force, he enhanced his hearing; pretending to study a datapad which he plucked from a pocket as he eavesdropped on the conversation.
The Imperial tech whispered into his headset: "Major, I find no evidence of the Dea-.. "plans," in either droid's memory systems." Mentioning of the Death Star Project over an open channel, even an encrypted one, would likely get one a face to face interview with Lord Vader, the tech went pale as he realized how close he had come to what would inevitably be, a fatal meeting. "Affirmative, Ensign; report back to Lieutenant Briggs for TAD,"(TAD - Temporary Additional Duty) the Major's scrubbed and distorted voice came through his earpiece.
A scant few meters away, the platoon leader seemed to fiddle with his helmet, as he turned up the gain: "Sergeant Dunwell," the Major's voice came over the tac net, "I have just completed reading your preliminary report. Why have you taken these droids into custody? They don't fit the description of the droids we're looking for." Beneath his helmet the platoon leader scowled at the departing form of the tech, "Sir, he inexplicably, put an extraordinary amount of effort into convincing me, that these weren't the droids we were looking for." the Sergeant replied. "Did it ever occur to you that he might be telling the truth, Sergeant?" the Major ended with hint of a growl. "Well yes, sir it did, but I believe in being thorough." "
The Major seemed to consider that. "Stick to your mission objectives Sergeant, The Emperor does not approve of the wasting of his resources, comitting an entire stormtrooper platoon on a wild bantha hunt is not becoming of a stormtrooper who aspires to someday become brigade leader, do I make myself clear, Serrgeant?" "Sir, yes sir." the Sergeant replied.
Aboard the Star Destroyer in orbit, Major Hansel closed off the communication, wondering how a fool who couldn't tell the different between a R2 unit and a street sweeping droid, had ever risen as high as platoon leader. Down the street, the stranger in black smiled; clearly the Emperor's lackeys weren't as effective, without the Emperor himself around to augment, their dwindling mental faculties. Focusing his thoughts on the lightsaber riding upon his hip, he imaged the mental equivalent of a question mark, attempting to communicate with Rune Wind, telepathically.
"How do I use them?" he asked. `Keenobi will seek to enter the void; with the son of Skywalkerrr. A ship, they shall seeek.' The stranger nodded imperceptibly. "So, if I steer them in the direction of the spaceport, perhaps they'll get lucky." 'Indeeeed,' the voice rasped.
Watching the stormtroopers go about their activities with thinly veiled contempt, the stranger was thankful he had not chosen to ally himself with the Emperor. He had lived in the Badlands of Tatooine for decades, eternally vigilant; he trained and meditated daily, every waking hour spent improving himself, with no outside distractions. For years he had glimpsed visions of the end of Vader and the Emperor both. Soon, that time would come to pass; he had foreseen it.
Reaching down to the depths of his soul he felt a sudden shift within, as if a energy potential of unimaginable power had suddenly awaken, ready and able to do his will, for a fleet moment his eyes blazed crimson beneath his hood, then the moment passed. His will had been done.
Satisfied that he had succeeded in planting a compulsion in the mind of the platoon leader, the stranger started in the direction of Chalmun's Cantina once more. He did not have time to seek out Kenobi, and eliminate him. He hoped that sending the platoon of stormtroopers to the center of the spaceport from whence they would be able to reach any Mos Eisley docking bay with decent speed would suffice. Eliminating the son of Skywalker's ascension to Jedi Knight, or fulfilling the prophecy, the choice had not been an easy one.
He had read surviving sith manuscripts of old, and knew that Obiwan's presence shielded his influence on the force from the Emperor. Kenobi guarded the son of Skywalker, and Skywalker could not be put to rest without Kenobi being disposed of as well. No, back then, he couldn't risk the Emperor learning of him, not until the reckless one appeared.
But Jinx had come. Using the force, he had caused Jinx's ship to crash exactly as he had seen in his visions. Now he had only to befriend the reckless boy, and manipulate him towards the dark destiny. Watching the enraged trandoshan stalk into Chalmun's Cantina, he smiled. A simple task. Intervention on the boy's behalf, some trandoshan blood spilt, bones broken; and the boy would owe him, even though it was his telekinesis* abilities and manipulations that had caused the rock to strike the trandoshan in the first place..
The day he had waited and trained so dilligently for, had finally come. Soon, the vision would come to pass; and the heavens themselves would be shook to their very foundations.. he had foreseen it.
Within the shadows of a distant alley stood a man. Tall and broad shouldered, clad from head to toe in black, his skin, dark as night itself. The soles of his feet were protectively wrapped within the embrace of a pair of bantha hide boots. His legs, shrouded in the recesses of black cargo pants, which appeared a few sizes too large, wrapped about his shoulders, was a black drab poncho, which fell nearly to his knees, a hood was set upon his head; a horde of shadows pervading the innermost recesses of his hood, served to conceal his facial features. Strapped to his right hip, beneath the concealing mass of poncho, was Rhune Wynde: 44 centimeters of machined, and polished ebony, stone-laced with alloy, engraved with runes and glyphs, which when viewed on a moonless light, could be seen to glow noticeably, pulsating with a life of its own.
He stood immobile as a statue, not at all surprised by the crashing ship, or the rock which had curiously struck the trandoshan, for it was he and he alone, who had brought those events to pass. He strode in the direction of Chalmun's Cantina, cutting across the flow of traffic, city denizens and merchants quickly moving out of his path; something about this one whispered against association.
`Hitherr, a way to makke Kenobi; preyyy..'
The voice, if it could be called that rasped in his mind. Pausing, he turned to his right seeing a merchant and two droids on their knees in the hot sand, with hands clasped over their heads. A platoon of stormtroopers stood in encirclement formation with weapons drawn. Drawing on his vast knowledge and power in the dark side of the force, he enhanced his hearing; pretending to study a datapad which he plucked from a pocket as he eavesdropped on the conversation.
The Imperial tech whispered into his headset: "Major, I find no evidence of the Dea-.. "plans," in either droid's memory systems." Mentioning of the Death Star Project over an open channel, even an encrypted one, would likely get one a face to face interview with Lord Vader, the tech went pale as he realized how close he had come to what would inevitably be, a fatal meeting. "Affirmative, Ensign; report back to Lieutenant Briggs for TAD,"(TAD - Temporary Additional Duty) the Major's scrubbed and distorted voice came through his earpiece.
A scant few meters away, the platoon leader seemed to fiddle with his helmet, as he turned up the gain: "Sergeant Dunwell," the Major's voice came over the tac net, "I have just completed reading your preliminary report. Why have you taken these droids into custody? They don't fit the description of the droids we're looking for." Beneath his helmet the platoon leader scowled at the departing form of the tech, "Sir, he inexplicably, put an extraordinary amount of effort into convincing me, that these weren't the droids we were looking for." the Sergeant replied. "Did it ever occur to you that he might be telling the truth, Sergeant?" the Major ended with hint of a growl. "Well yes, sir it did, but I believe in being thorough." "
The Major seemed to consider that. "Stick to your mission objectives Sergeant, The Emperor does not approve of the wasting of his resources, comitting an entire stormtrooper platoon on a wild bantha hunt is not becoming of a stormtrooper who aspires to someday become brigade leader, do I make myself clear, Serrgeant?" "Sir, yes sir." the Sergeant replied.
Aboard the Star Destroyer in orbit, Major Hansel closed off the communication, wondering how a fool who couldn't tell the different between a R2 unit and a street sweeping droid, had ever risen as high as platoon leader. Down the street, the stranger in black smiled; clearly the Emperor's lackeys weren't as effective, without the Emperor himself around to augment, their dwindling mental faculties. Focusing his thoughts on the lightsaber riding upon his hip, he imaged the mental equivalent of a question mark, attempting to communicate with Rune Wind, telepathically.
"How do I use them?" he asked. `Keenobi will seek to enter the void; with the son of Skywalkerrr. A ship, they shall seeek.' The stranger nodded imperceptibly. "So, if I steer them in the direction of the spaceport, perhaps they'll get lucky." 'Indeeeed,' the voice rasped.
Watching the stormtroopers go about their activities with thinly veiled contempt, the stranger was thankful he had not chosen to ally himself with the Emperor. He had lived in the Badlands of Tatooine for decades, eternally vigilant; he trained and meditated daily, every waking hour spent improving himself, with no outside distractions. For years he had glimpsed visions of the end of Vader and the Emperor both. Soon, that time would come to pass; he had foreseen it.
Reaching down to the depths of his soul he felt a sudden shift within, as if a energy potential of unimaginable power had suddenly awaken, ready and able to do his will, for a fleet moment his eyes blazed crimson beneath his hood, then the moment passed. His will had been done.
Satisfied that he had succeeded in planting a compulsion in the mind of the platoon leader, the stranger started in the direction of Chalmun's Cantina once more. He did not have time to seek out Kenobi, and eliminate him. He hoped that sending the platoon of stormtroopers to the center of the spaceport from whence they would be able to reach any Mos Eisley docking bay with decent speed would suffice. Eliminating the son of Skywalker's ascension to Jedi Knight, or fulfilling the prophecy, the choice had not been an easy one.
He had read surviving sith manuscripts of old, and knew that Obiwan's presence shielded his influence on the force from the Emperor. Kenobi guarded the son of Skywalker, and Skywalker could not be put to rest without Kenobi being disposed of as well. No, back then, he couldn't risk the Emperor learning of him, not until the reckless one appeared.
But Jinx had come. Using the force, he had caused Jinx's ship to crash exactly as he had seen in his visions. Now he had only to befriend the reckless boy, and manipulate him towards the dark destiny. Watching the enraged trandoshan stalk into Chalmun's Cantina, he smiled. A simple task. Intervention on the boy's behalf, some trandoshan blood spilt, bones broken; and the boy would owe him, even though it was his telekinesis* abilities and manipulations that had caused the rock to strike the trandoshan in the first place..
The day he had waited and trained so dilligently for, had finally come. Soon, the vision would come to pass; and the heavens themselves would be shook to their very foundations.. he had foreseen it.