In The Shadows of An Empire.
Dizziness… and utter confusion… that's all he feels now. Walking, or actually stumbling down the crowded street, he lifts a hand to the side of his face. The flashing neon signs from all the clubs and hangouts make his eyes burn. He squints to block out some of the visual pollution. Strange pain aches all around his cranium, and he's not sure why. Somehow, it seems as though the reality of his existence as he now experiences is… wrong… misguided, perhaps. Oh no, he thinks, as his balance begins to waver again. He tries to stay upright, but standing straight worsens his condition.
There, he sees the corner of a building, the perfect spot to regain his composure. As he nears the greasy diner, his feet become heavy, and he flails his arms to regain his footing. Unfortunately, his efforts fail, and he half-summersaults into the row of refuse receptacles in the alley. He lies there for a moment, a heap of misguided limbs. Groaning, he manages to sit up, and the peel from some exotic fruit slides off his eyestalk, leaving a slimy residue.
A passerby notices the sad sight and begins to approach. Mistaking him for a beggar, the man flips a cred chip in his direction. Of course, he never noticed the stranger looming nearby, and the chip ricochets off his forehead with a small tunk sound. His large head jerks back as the money comes to rest in the tattered robes bunched up in his lap. A long, exasperated sigh escapes his dry lips, and the charitable person wonders for a moment if the suffering creature has simply died then and there. He cautiously reaches over and takes his creds back before the other sentient even realizes what just occurred. Popping the chip into a breast pocket, he continues on his way.
This is the tale of Old Pablo.
Old Pablo walks the filthy alleys a broken man. No one really talks to him, or even takes notice when he staggers into their presence, but then again, why would they? What's so unusual about an Ongree tripping over his own bow-legged feet as if he were perpetually inebriated? On the lower levels of Coruscant in the entertainment district, such a sight is commonplace. Old Pablo, however, has a story unlike any other beggar or homeless sentient.
Old Pablo was once Jedi Master Pablo Jill. He participated in the ruinous rescue on Geonosis, where many of his comrades were killed. Following that debacle, he had spent time as a general on several worlds for the duration of the Clone Wars, Ando, Clackdor VII, and most recently, Corellia. It was there that he and Jedi Master Nejaa Halcyon had pushed back the Separatist invaders in a series of short battles that lasted a matter of weeks. The key to their success was the cooperation and support of the local police agents, the Corellian Security Force, or CorSec for short. It was also during one such excursion that Master Halcyon tragically became one with the Force, and Pablo himself was injured. Upon handing over the reins of the troops after Nejaa's funeral, he escorted Halcyon's strange, furry companion, Elegos Ak'la, back to Coruscant. He had noticed the Camaasi intensely discussing some important matter with a CorSec officer named Hal Horn… something about a child, perhaps one left as an orphan as a result of the fighting…
Pablo was glad to get back to Coruscant to heal his injuries and have some down time before he was sent back into the field. He had seen his share of horrors, betrayals, and had said a final farewell to too many friends already. In addition, he looked forward to being able to physically attend a meeting of the Jedi High Council. During his campaigns, he had needed to report via a holographic transmitter, which created a blue ghost-like version of himself sitting in his appointed chair. Pablo felt that he needed few days to regain his composure, to clear his mind and find his inner peace, and then he would be ready to take command once again. However, such an opportunity never arose.
Events were transpiring swiftly, and the entire Galaxy was on its edge. A great change was about to overturn a thousand years of peace under the Republic… and replace it with a worse corruption than was ever known amongst the politicians of the Senate. Pablo Jill, being a member of the Jedi Council, knew full well that the Supreme Chancellor was under close observation, and his suspicious activities regarding the war would no longer be overlooked as typical political machinations. Something deeper and more sinister was pulling the strings behind the abundant facades that could be found at every turn of this war. Pablo suspected, as did the rest of his colleagues on the Council, that the Sith were involved. To what extent their dark influence had, no one was really sure. Certainly, no one expected what became the reality.
Mace Windu was preparing to make a move against the Chancellor, and Pablo had to turn down the opportunity to participate, still concerned with nursing his injuries. This turn of events ended up saving his life… in a sense. True, he didn't die at the hands of Palpatine upon his revelation as the hidden Sith lord, Darth Sidious. Masters Windu, Fisto, Tiin, and Kolar suffered that fate for their last efforts to preserve the decaying Republic. But Pablo hasn't been himself since that fateful night.
Pablo was one of the last two Council members still at the Jedi Temple when Darth Vader and his clone troopers launched their assault. No one was prepared for what happened, no one ever envisioned that the Chosen One would turn traitor. Pablo had met up with the group that was retreating to the Jedi Council chambers, and he decided to act as an added escort, ensuring they reached their destination. The majority of them never did. Pablo couldn't believe his own eyes when he saw him stride down the hall, walking with a resolute dark confidence. Unflinching, he cut down a guardian… and then he began murdering the children...
Pablo charged the traitor, hoping to give the others a chance to get to their refuge. Clone troopers fell at his feet as he continued his approach. Nothing else mattered; it was his duty as a Jedi, let alone a member of the Council, to end this now. Something had gone horribly wrong. Pablo didn't understand how the Chosen One could turn to the Dark Side, and he had no time to meditate on the matter. Giving himself fully to the Force, his blue blade crossed with the traitor's. After trading blows for a few moments, Pablo came to the realization that he was no match… and he finally saw why this boy was so dangerous. Vader focused his intense gaze on Pablo, and lifted his hand. A wave concentrated dark energy slammed in Pablo, sending his mind reeling. Before he could clear his thoughts, a second surge overwhelmed him, and he lost control of his faculties. A swift boot to the jaw sent him sprawling over the edge of the banister, and he fell dozens of meters to the stone floor below.
Lying there, in a spreading pool of his own bodily fluids, Pablo, or what was left of him, lost consciousness. The Jedi that he once was had been obliterated from his being. Jedi Master Pablo Jill was no more. He had awakened amid a pile of bodies scheduled for disposal. Shakily, he had simply walked past the mindless warehouse droids that were lifting the corpses and placing them in the industrial furnace nearby. His presence barely registered on their scanners as being alive, and he was ignored. He has been wafting about ever since.
The Ongree now known as Old Pablo rises to his feet with support from a waste canister. Refuse falls from his dirty tunic and plops to the ground. Slowly, he glances around, taking in his surroundings. It all seems so familiar, yet so alien. It's always like that now. Gingerly, he rubs the back of his head, and staggers forward into the night.
