Star Wars: Strings in The Shadow Quest #2

Stumbling

You are utterly invisible to the naked eye. Only devices or beings able to see in the infrared spectrum could spy you in the world of utter white. Your full-body outfit shields you from the worst of the bone-gnawing cold and is constructed from the pelts of creatures adapted to this hellscape of frozen tundra. Their thick fur and heavy hide insulate you from the snow that you are concealed within. Still, the cold slivers its way through your suit, jealously groping at you with ethereal hands, stealing your warmth. Gaunt limbs rattle and shiver as you hold your silent vigil, waiting for the perfect moment. Your emaciated body appears as ghostly white skin stretched too tightly over frail bones and atrophied muscle; despite your frailty, or maybe because of it, you make an imposing figure with red eyes blazing with purpose and hatred.

From your vantage point, you spot the doors of a shelter sliding open through the magnification of your scope as heat escapes in a cloud of steam. Your stilled heart rate begins to quicken with excitement, and a cruel revanchist grin grows across your ugly visage. You watch three figures languishing by the opening, conversing and smiling. Only their faces are visible through their coats, which, unlike yours, are dark colours to stand out against the snow rather than to blend in with it. All three are Bothans, only their faces are visible, not that you would need to see their faces to determine their species. This world was given to the Bothans to colonise and rule, as long as it stayed loyal to the Hutt Empire and kept supplying the region with the plasma reserves of the planet. For this task, they were gifted thirty million beings roughly a hundred years ago, all your people, all slaves, to toil and die for the extraction of the planet’s plasma.

The smallest of the trio runs ahead to the two larger Bothans, playing with the snow falling from the sky, trying to catch a snowflake in its mouth. The two making the rear of the trio join gloved hands, watching their offspring play in wonderment, finding warmth together in this frozen world built by the suffering of your people. Your scope cycles automatically into focus, telling you the exact distance and other factors that would affect your shot. It would be easiest to shoot the parents huddling together; one shot would easily scythe through the pair, leaving their bodies broken and dead. But you want them to watch, like so many of your people have been forced to watch their kin die, be it under the whip of the Bothan slave lords or slowly being consumed by the eternal winter.

With a squeeze of a trigger, a silent solid projectile punches through the snowfall as your rifle bucks. Before the bullet impacts, you have already turned to refocus your weapon on the parents and quickly pull the trigger a second time. You watch as your heart pounds in illation and fear; the first shot hits the child who was bent over to pick up a handful of snow. The impact rips the little Bothan’s torso apart and sends the two halves flying over the snow, spilling blood that turns the pure white powder red.

Snorting with mirth, you watch the sight with humour, relishing the view as the parent’s faces turn from content, loving joy to utter horror. Before a wail could escape from either of their lips the second round slams into them, leaving two more corpses lying motionless as a circle of crimson grows around them. The fast snowfall continues to land upon their unmoving bodies, beginning a burial process. As you watch the scene a while longer, soaking in the view, you hope that the bodies aren’t discovered. You want the snow to subsume them so that their contorted forms would only get found during the few days of brief summer as the snow temporarily retreats. Them being missing for so long and then finally exposed in such a manner would, you believe, create the greatest amount of terror within the enemy populace. Glad your scope has been recording the freshest of your kills, you stand up in the thigh-deep whiteness to return your brothers at camp, they will love this.

Morrigan grins up at you with a goofy smile, her face blotchy with exhaustion as she takes deep breaths. Your Padawan deactivates her Lightsaber and almost falls to the floor on shaky legs. You didn’t mean to tire her out so much while training her today, but her love of learning Djem So was infectious, and she kept spurring the lesson on. Tomorrow, you will make sure she takes it easier, but she is making rapid progress from how she pushes your lessons. You can’t help but feel like a proud father watching his daughter overachieve.

Parting, you wish her a good evening; while you would usually review your session with her, she is far too tired for any further lessons to sink in and more importantly, you’ve got a very important call to make today. For your coming interstellar crusade, you’ve got fifty-odd Jedi that have joined you and will spread the message to other prospective converts, but what you need now is money and a lot of it. You need money for propaganda, for warships, for armies, and so much more. The only man you’ve interacted with who has anywhere close to that sort of money is Duke Denon of the Tion. He de facto runs not just the planet of Tion or the system, but the entire sector. And you’ve scheduled a call with him soon.

You sit alone in your ship, taking this call in isolation, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other Jedi of the temple. While you do trust them, you believe it will be easier discussing this one-to-one, where you don’t have a committee of people all adding their own inputs. Sitting on your couch, you watch your holoprojector, waiting for it to activate and the face of the Duke to appear. Doubt begins to settle in as you count down the minutes; he could too easily flat-out reject such discussions and inform the Council and Senate of your plans, destroying them before you are able to begin. And why would he trust a Jedi Knight as young as you with such a lofty goal?

A giant face appears before your eyes, full and fat, wearing a jolly smile. “Chris! Wow, it has been a while. When my secretary told me you wanted to talk, I couldn’t believe my ears. My, you have changed. You are a man now. What do you want? How can I help you? Do you want to join HAAS?”

“Duke Denon-” You begin only to be quickly cut off by the man in his sixties who still contains much vigour.

“Call me Denon, son; I abhor using that title between friends.”

“Sorry, Denon, I wanted to discuss with you a new approach that the Human Alliance of Anti-Slavery can take in combatting the malign influence of the Hutt Empire. I have found a number of Jedi that also want to stop the Hutt’s practises and see the region transformed into a fairer one that respects the lives of all. I-”

Denon cuts you off again with a violent swish of his hand. “Christopher, son, let’s not discuss such things over such distances. You never know if anyone else is listening in on these transmissions, and we wouldn’t want them to get the wrong idea. Let’s put a pin in this conversation. I can hear the passion in your voice and feel the strength of your conviction. Why don’t we meet up face-to-face? It has been too long.”

He looks away from his holoprojector into an object to his side, “So, Chris, here is what I can do for you. I’ve got a ball I’m hosting next week on a cruiser in the Tion system. You can join that if you wish. The next day, we can talk about business. Or I can come to meet you wherever you currently call home in a month and a half.”

You answer…
>Meet on the cruiser
>Have him come to Lieserl

Hi guys back at it, shorter break than last time.

As before, for single 1d100 rolls you get one reroll per thread.

Archive: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.<wbr>com/qstarchive.html?tags=Stellar%20<wbr>Turmoil

Anonymous

>>5972253
>Meet on the cruiser.

Hate Politik but this is the most expedient manner of engagement and also the means by which we can improve his station alongisde our own.

Jedi as guests is rather prestigious.
Also sounds like a lesson for a padawaaaaan.

LET'S FUCKING GOOOOO<br>Why is it thread 2 though, shouldn't this be thread 3?

Holy h*ck, that was a rough intro. The Bith are described as basically emotionless psychopaths though so maybe they'll deserve it on some level.

>Have ourselves a Ball, & use it as an opportunity to train our Padawan in social accumen
Solid input on that, anon^

>>5972253
>>Meet on the cruiser
>>5972257
LEEEEE GOOOOOO
isnt this thread 4?

>>5972456
>Why is it thread 2 though, shouldn't this be thread 3?
>>5972620
>isnt this thread 4?

This is the second thread for Strings in The Shadow. So I've decided to spilt the quest up in three arcs. The first arc was Stellar Turmoil which was four threads long, in February I started the second: Strings in The Shadow.

Stumbling

You take a second to decide between the choice; if the Duke joined you on Lieserl, you could show him what you’ve built here before having access to any of his resources. Hopefully, it would give him belief in your abilities, so he would trust you with some of his impressive fortune to build upon what you have. But then going to his party is the quickest way to meet him, and while you are in no rush, it is essential to get the ball rolling when there are trillions that are suffering. Also, Denon having a Jedi guest at his ball would be a prestigious look for him that costs you nothing, ideally making him appreciative of the open association. Furthermore, it is an excellent opportunity to train Morrigan when interacting with those of higher society.

“Thank you very much for the invitation, Denon; I shall join you for the ball. It sounds like it will be a very good time, and I look forward to talking with you in greater depth.” You continue speaking with a calm, controlled cadence that would not be amiss in any corporate office, very different from your typically casual tone.

“Excellent, I’m sure you will enjoy yourself. There will be a lot of good, interesting people there, most of them young’uns like you. The idea is to have those young influential people of the galaxy who see things the way we do, getting to know each other and building bonds; we want a strong community.”

Something catches you off guard as Denon finishes his sentence; you hear the noise of doors sliding open. You whip around to focus on the intruder disrupting your meeting, only to see an angel of snow-white skin and golden blond hair walking through the doorway. That was an oversight on your part. You didn’t tell Claire of your meeting, and with her new unlimited access to your ship, she can enter your vessel without alerting you. Claire stands like an umber-deer caught in the headlights of a racing speeder bike; she blanches, noticing that she is interrupting your call, and timidly apologises to the pair of you while retreating from the room.

“It's fine; why don’t you join us.” Denon smiles through the holoprojector, an evident curiosity written upon his visage which is transmitted seamlessly from lightyears away. Claire shoots you a panicked face, unsure of what to do; instinctively, you invite her over to sit next to you. Her worry mostly evaporates as she sits beside you, joining you in staring at the holoprojected face of the Duke. “Wow, excuse me for saying, but it is very rare to see two free Ramdar together; very inspiring. You must come to the ball; people would love to see the pair of you. A sign of changing fortunes of your people.”

Claire smiles awkwardly as Denon controls the conversation. “Uh, Claire, and I guess I can?” She looks at you for affirmation, unsure if she has given the correct answer with the question plain in her answer. You don’t reply verbally, but you take her hand in yours, giving it a soft squeeze, and shoot her a warm smile, hoping your hands are unable to be seen by the Duke. If you have to leave the planet there is nothing more you want than Claire to come with you.

Duke Denon claps his hands enthusiastically, “Excellent, excellent, I look forward to meeting you in the flesh. Chris, do you have any requests for the party? Or any songs?”

You shrug, a bit overwhelmed and taken off-guard by the question. Shaking your head while replying simply, “No, I’m good.”

Claire chimes in during the pause you leave, almost unsure of her own voice, “I have been enjoying Angel Of Lower Coruscant recently.”

“I’ll make sure to write it down; now I’ve got to go. I can’t wait to see you soon. By the way, Chris, you will have to watch out. If you’ve not locked down Miss Claire, there are plenty of rich, handsome young men who will happily sweep someone as beautiful as her off her feet.” With that, his image disappears, and you are left with an irritated frown on your face, not appreciating his leaving comment.

Spending the rest of your evening with your new girlfriend, you wrap her in your arms; you’ve been glued together like a limpet to the hull of a ship ever since that day on the surface of Lieserl. Being with Claire is amazing; you’ve never felt like this before. Every moment you’ve been able to spend with her is incredible, you feel like a man who has gained the ability to see colour for the first time. Just being around Claire is exciting in a way nothing has ever come close to matching. Every second of your waking day that you can excuse to spend with her, you do, and Claire clearly feels the same way as she reciprocates. Even when teaching Morrigan, Claire usually joins in and leads the lessons pertaining to the control of the Force.

You understand this is the honeymoon stage of a relationship, where you are discovering things about each other that neither of you have shared with anyone else, amplified by the fact that this is your first relationship where everything is new. Claire sinks deeper into your arms as you ignore the movie playing in the background and focus on her, just watching while giving her the occasional kiss, which she greedily accepts. While you are very passionate with each other, Claire frequently shoots you looks when no one is looking to spur you into showering her with affection in the form of secret kisses, you’ve not yet had sex. Claire has never given you a signal to stop or slow down as you grope her through her clothing, but you haven’t gone past that stage despite her willingness. A part of you worries that crossing that line will change your relationship, and everything feels so perfect now you don’t want to disrupt what is going on.

It is your final day on Lieserl, and you will set off for the Tion system in the evening; everything is packed and ready to go. Morrigan has had the day free, and you’ve spotted her walking around the temple grounds with Luke’s apprentice, Cau; you can’t help but wonder with a rue smile if there is something going on there. After your final check of the ship, you are happy with your preparations for your journey. With the rest of your day free you can spend it as you wish.

You know what you want to do, you don't have to think at all as it has been on your mind the whole day. You want to take Claire out on a date into the city; you want more time alone to be together, just you and her. But perhaps you should speak to Luke or Alyla; it has been a couple of weeks since you and Claire started dating, and there is a level of distance between you and the two. While cordial, there is an imperceptible barrier that has been created, and it will decay with time, but maybe you should talk to them and speed up the reconciliation? Or maybe not, it could cause greater tension if you force a conversation they are clearly uninterested in having.

You…
>Go on a date with Claire
>Talk to Luke about you and Claire dating
>Talk to Alyla about you and Claire dating
>Talk with Scion about the best approach with Luke and Alyla

Anonymous

>>5973059
>Discuss it with Alyla.

Before we run off into the stars.
It would have been optimal, Had we paired off into such neat pairings but life and drama isnt nearly so clean.

>>5973059
>Talk with Scion about the best approach with Luke and Alyla
a mostly neutral party

>>5973059
>Claire Date
Birds of a feather navigate hyperspace together.

Stumbling

You want to deal with this; you want to fix this fissure of your own creation. Alyla and Luke are your two most important friends. You can’t ignore them, and just hope your relationship with them returns to normal. The issue is you have no idea how to broach the topic; this is utterly alien to you, and you’ve not been in their situation. It would be too easy for you to say the wrong thing and worsen your relationships. Thinking about Luke and Alyla, you know Luke likes or liked Claire, he has made it more than obvious and has explicitly pined for her a few times, but what about Alyla? Does that mean she likes you in that way? You always thought she saw you as a little brother or close enough, so when you’ve got physically, typically in sparring, the flirting was simply harmless.

There is so much to think about, and you really don’t want to cross the minefield of upset feelings. You struggle with other’s emotions; you aren’t great at seeing into their soul and knowing the right thing to say. Also, while you don’t try to be, you are quite naturally self-focused. Typically, you think about yourself, and others' needs normally don’t float into your head unless made explicit; but when they are, you make sure to put others first and are happy to sacrifice your own enjoyment. It is something you are working on, trying to instinctively think about others, but your brain is wired in such a way that it always conjures up your own needs, and you have to actively think about others to put them first.

You could speak to Scion about the best way to approach Luke and Claire, you have no doubt he’s heard things from them that have not yet reached your ears. But really, what you want to do is spend your last day with Claire; there is still so much you want to learn about her and experience with her. Being with Claire is just so easy; it feels more natural than nature. As you think about her, she pops into view; she sees you and gives you a big wave and a dumb, goofy grin. Claire’s steps become skips as she bounces over to you. You’ve noticed a change in Claire over the last few weeks; she’s more openly expressive and seems more confident. Of course, she is still a shy person, but those icy walls she has put up to shut the world out have been melting.

“Hey,” Claire beams at you, and her evident joy is infectious. You can’t help but scoop her up into your arms and give her a little spin. It is easy enough; she is only five-five to your six-foot-two. “What’s the plan for the rest of the day? We should make the most out of it. It’ll be a bit since we come back.”

You groan, audibly showing your lack of enthusiasm for the task you feel you must do. All the while, your hands rest on her hips, not wanting to break contact with Claire. “I would love to spend the day with you, but I think I really should talk to Alyla about us. I hate this gap we’ve introduced within the group. I hate that we’ve hurt them. Or maybe I should talk to Scion; he’s sure to have heard things we’ve not; he does have an ear for things.”

Claire’s happy mood evaporates in a flash and instantly is replaced with a scowl, “Chris, if you talk to them, do you really think it will make things better? You think you can fix their feelings with words? I think the best thing for you to do is let it be. Time heals all wounds and digging at scabs will only open them up. Luke and Alyla will get over this, and we will all be friends again. I promise you, trust me. Let sleeping kath hounds lie. And spend the rest of your day with me; there’s somewhere I want to go, but first, let’s put on some normal peoples clothing. I don’t want people to gawk at us.”

Claire pulls at your arm with her small hands, trying to lead you back into your ship with a strength that would be easy to resist. You relent and allow your worries to slide away, surrendering your focus to the beautiful girl tugging at your arm. Maybe the easiest thing is the best thing to do in this situation. Claire is likely correct, she is much better than you at this emotional stuff.

After walking around the city and doing a bit of window shopping, you and Claire have set up in a café. You ordered a tea sweetened with honey for yourself, a guilty pleasure, and a warm chocolatey drink for Claire. And you do talk about this and that, and Claire suggests you play two truths, one lie. Interestingly you do find out that she doesn’t just enjoy crappy teen young love novels but also fanfiction as well. You give her a bit of light-hearted ribbing about it, then ask more about her favourites, allowing her to talk at length about why this character goes well with that character and how the author does a great job of writing their interactions. In truth, you don’t care about it. It isn’t your thing, but you happily pretend to hear Claire express just how much she enjoys reading such stuff and allow her to verbalise her love of it, which she hasn’t been able to do before.

While you’ve been talking and getting refills of your drinks, the pair of you have been painting ceramics. You’ve been painting a plate, your ship flying through space. It is pretty bad, but you’ve enjoyed doing it. Claire has been painting a mug, it is blue on the top and bottom with a strip of white with speckled dots. On it, Claire has written “positivi-tea”, a play on the word positivity and tea. The waitress comes over and asks if you are ready for them to go into the oven, fusing the paint onto the ceramics.

Claire looks at you, exhibiting her new mug and asks, “What do you think?”

“I think it is positivi-tea amazing,” you smile at her. She beams back, takes the paintbrush still wet with black paint on the nib, and makes a final adjustment that you cannot see.

“There,” Claire says proudly, displaying the cup which now reads “Chris’ positivi-tea”. Oh fuck, she made that for you. While you were painting a plate for yourself, she was making a mug for you. You feel like such a fucking idiot. Why were you so absorbed in what you wanted to make rather than thinking about what Claire would want? Trying not to show the alarm on your face, you hear a muffled giggle escape Claire's lips. Quickly, you take the same brush she has put down and write on the rim of your plate, “No matter where I am, I will always be with you.”

Leaving the café, you are still flushing from embarrassment. Claire is holding the wrapped box containing your mug and her plate. You did offer to carry it, but Claire possessively holds onto it, refusing it to slip her grip. Once again, you apologise for your rushed job, “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t thinking, I was in my own world.”

“Chris, stop it; I’ve told you I love my plate. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Claire answers sincerely, genuinely happy with her plate.

“I didn’t do anything right,” You sulk at your mistake.

“No, you have, you’ve made me very happy. Let me try to convince you.” Claire tugs at you, bringing you into an empty alleyway away from eyes of onlookers. With care, she places the box down and jumps into your arms. Showering you with passionate kisses, she entrances you, making you a willing slave to her sensuality. Claire presses herself into you while your hands grope at her bottom. Finally, belatedly, your part, and she looks up at you with her bright red eyes full of mischief and arousal, “I’ve had a great time, and I’m still having a great time. I love my plate, and I lo- I really like you. Now, are you going to stop moping?”

“Yes, ma'am,” You salute her while mentally undressing her from her plain baggy clothes.

The day grows late, and Claire leads you to one last shop that is close to the Jedi temple. A clothes shop is relatively normal apart from the Jedi robes it stocks. You look at Claire, waiting for her to explain the reason she has taken you here. There is a nervousness on her face, that shy awkwardness that was her second nature before you started dating. “So, um, I was thinking maybe I should change my style. With all the new things we are experimenting with, I was wondering if I should pick up some new clothes, you know? I want you to look at me and be like wow. I want to look the part of your girlfriend. And feel more confident and sexy, rather than just be plain and boring.”

You tell Claire she is beautiful and sexy, that your eyes are already glued to her no matter what she wears. A part of you worries this is inspired by what Alyla wears instead of the typical Jedi robes and that she thinks there’s an unspoken competition, but you know bringing it up would spoil the mood. In the end, you suggest Claire…

>Wears her regular Jedi robes
>Wears form-fitting sleeveless top, similar to what Alyla wears
>Write-in

Anonymous

>>5973947
We do just love you how you are Claire, but if you do want to change something. . . Hmm. I don't want to suggest changing the standard uniform, since that can cause trouble later.

But I can think of something simple.
>Rather racy undergarments and a band around our writsts

I'd have suggested a Garter, but we're not royalty.
Now my suggestion is based with the understanding or just telling her, that we don't really care what she wears if it makes her happy. However to feel Sexy, perhaps something that only us two are going to know? A secret that we can parade in public without anyone being the wiser? I think some people find that hot, being the rationale for lacy underwear or something.

To be a visible sigifier though, we wear a bracelet/band on our left wrist and she wears the matching one on her right. Visually demonstrating we are bound together, and obvious to see when holding hands.
<s>Slightly concerned if she would take offense to the idea of the chain metaphore, given our people's present misery</s>.
My only concern is that I'm retarded and this isn't what she's asking for. I think she's asking for approval and I am offering a way that's intimate. But she might genuinely want to dress more openly, and this suggestion of maintaining modesty could damage her resolve.

>>5973962
>My only concern is that I'm retarded and this isn't what she's asking for
The way I see it is she's doing the whole, I'm dressing up for myself not others but also for Chris as well. You know when girls dress up to feel more confident and attractive, part of the lack of confidence is Alyla who is mentioned as being better looking. Claire no doubt feels slightly intimated by Alyla and wants to looksmaxx to be number one in Chris' eyes.

>>5973947
my personal favorite female star wars clothing

Stumbling

Claire walks around the store, her fingers interlinked with yours as she swings your arms with vigour. She leads you from display to display, studying female manikins and the clothes they wear. Lifting a few items up, Claire holds them against her body, visualising herself wearing the new items. It is incredible to you that she doesn’t already see herself as the rest of the world views her; she is so obviously beautiful. Claire should already feel her powerful and attractive in her plain civilian clothes and her standard robes. You like her in those robes, they speak to you, telling you to slowly strip her of them, revealing her naked form.

“So, what would you like me to try on?” Claire asks nervously, you aren’t sure why she is so anxious, she isn’t shy when it comes to getting intimate with you.

“I’ve got an idea,” You whisper in her ear conspiratorially, sharing your immoral thought. “How about underwear? You wear something sexy under your robes, it will be our secret. A secret that we can parade in public without anyone being the wiser. Everyone thinking you are prim and proper, but I know what's really underneath your thin Jedi robes.”

“Yes, I like that,” Claire looks up at you with flushed cheeks as she chews her bottom lip. “That is if you like it.”

After picking out a few items together, Claire scampers off to the changing rooms. You hang behind, your eye was caught by something, a bracelet of Araksteel. The hard alloy created from the rare ore local to Achlys, your shared homeworld. The dark grey of the metal isn’t the prettiest of alloys, but it is the strongest, typically used for the hulls of warships. You pick up two of them, one for you and one for Claire, displaying your bond which you hope to be as durable and long lasting as the bracelets you have purchased.

Arriving outside of Claire’s changing booth you sit patiently outside the curtain waiting for your girlfriend to appear. After checking you are there and no one else is, Claire opens the curtains to reveal her body wearing lace black undergarments that contrast wonderfully with her alabaster skin. They tease of being almost see through, you swear if you could stare a little bit longer you could make out what is hidden beneath. Claire watches your face and her anxiety disappears as she sees the affect she has on you. She beans at you with a look of victory, doing a little twirl she gives you a wink and disappears behind the curtain. Claire reappears then disappears, every time wearing something new which you want to rip from her barely clothed body. Each appearance Claire grows with confidence getting more into the show, posing in increasingly more provocative positions, enjoying the experience as much as you.

Exhausting the underwear, you stop Claire from disappearing. You gently grab her arm, and she turns back at you with a fire of excitement in her eyes. She looks at you with want plain across her face, you take the second bracelet, the twin to the one on your left wrist and tie it around her right. You suck with words, you wish you knew the best ones to say, “I want you to know that I’m yours for as long as you want me. They are made of Araksteel, from back home, they are unbreakable, and they are to show that we are bound together no matter what happens in this crazy galaxy. I’m yours.”

Claire rushes up to you with a small unshed tear in her eye and steals your lips. The kiss isn’t the usual one overflowing with passion but soft and soulful, brimming with emotion. After you part, she just stares into your face, watching. Finally, Claire tells you, “There was one last bra I missed. Give me a second, I think it will be your favourite.”

You wait outside the curtain for the final time, smiling to yourself. Then you see Claire’s head appear from the curtains, she scans the hallway to see if it is still empty. Certain it is just you and her, Claire pops back and then opens the curtain. She is still wearing the lacy panties she was beforehand, the ones that hug her hips, but this time there is no bra. Just skin as white as fresh snow with a dot of pink on the two large mounds. Claire wears a dangerous grin with eyes full of mischief and arousal. Your clothes feel like a prison as you strain against them while you etch Claire’s topless form into your memory, never allowing yourself to forget the scene. Claire blows you a kiss and to your disappointment she disappears again.

Walking back to your ship all you can think about is whisking Claire away into your room and letting go of all restraint. Entering your vessel, you see Morrigan dutifully waiting for you, excited to take part in her first ever mission. She does lament that it will not involve using her Lightsaber, to which you tell her that anything is possible. As you walk to the pilot’s chair, Morrigan talks to Claire, who beckons Claire to something elsewhere within the ship. With a call to ground station informing them of your departure, you lift off and fly into the atmosphere.

Leaving the cockpit, you allow the ship to fly itself on autopilot. You find Claire and Morrigan in your training room, talking. Whatever the topic was, as soon as you walk into the room they fall into a conspiratorial silence. Asking Morrigan if she wants to do some training, she happily agrees; you look expectantly at Claire, hoping that she will join the two of you. Claire shakes her head, telling you not this time. She goes to leave you and Morrigan alone but pauses at a desk. Claire stretches with her arms behind her pushing out her chest. You can see through her clothes as if there is nothing there, seeing the bra you know her to be wearing and below that her naked tits. With that she skips off, very pleased with herself.

Focusing back on your dutiful Padawan you decide today’s lesson will be focus on teaching Morrigan…
>Force Speed
>Greater dexterity and control over the Force

Anonymous

>>5974721
I feel like we. . . didn't do badly with that exchange. Also, wow, Chris. Is this what years of dogmatic repression does combined with a sudden realisation of shared affection? <s>I feel it is a bit soon to name it 'love'.</s>

Gor daymn.
Anyway, While Dexterity and control is good, Simple and effective power that needs learning is
>Force Speed.
This, empowerment and sensing are the three most important basic powers we can teach, followed closely by telekinesis.

Stumbling

Might not update today, work shit, you know how it is.

Was planning two updates today, but there's a good chance I won't have the time with UFC 300 tonight.

Morrigan’s love of Lightsaber combat makes the decision clear: you will teach her Force Speed, she will get the most out of it. This way, she will also be able to keep up with you if a situation requires rapid movement. She struggles at first, frustration and irritation begins to swell, clouding her thoughts. This increases Morrigan’s struggle to learn the skill; you decide to interrupt her attempts and ask Morrigan to join you in meditation. Morrigan doesn’t want to sit and think; she wants to do and succeed, but she says nothing, and your pink apprentice sits across from you, fuming.

“Close your eyes, feel the emptiness of space around the ship. Focus on that nothingness, feel it, bring it into you, and let your thoughts be washed away.” Speaking with your calm, soothing, deep voice, you project that lack of emotion, assisting your apprentice in her attempt.

It does not come quickly, but eventually, she lets go of her emotions. You take Morrigan’s small pink hands in your large ghostly white grip. With your right hand, you oscillate your arm with enhanced speed. Letting Morrigan feel you conjuring the power, she tries to replicate the ability. At first, you feel nothing, but then it grows. Morrigan begins to understand and calls upon the Force, channelling it through her body. Morrigan looks up at you with joy at her newfound success; she ramps up the power she feeds into her speed, matching then surpassing the swiftness of your arm. Morrigan’s grin grows sly at passing you, only to be turned into a frown of deep concentration when you put more of your own power into your speed, matching hers and turning it into a competitive battle.

Withdrawing your hands from hers, you find a ball and toss it to her, slightly enhancing your throw with Force Speed. The two of you make a game of it. Standing across the room, you throw the ball at the wall behind the other, trying to hit it while the other catches it. Watching Morrigan, you find pleasure in seeing her enjoy the lesson. You never thought you’d enjoy being a teacher so much, but there really is something to watching your student have such fun in the training you lead.

“Hey, Chris,” Morrigan begins as she throws a hurtling ball. You dive and roll to catch it, throwing it back more gently, allowing her to focus on her words rather than the game. “Can I ask about you and Claire?”

“Of course, you can ask me about anything and everything, no matter if it is sensitive or embarrassing; part of being your teacher. And it is probably good to talk about Claire and me. Why, what do you want to know?”

Morrigan catches your gentle pass and looks down into her hand at the ball, avoiding your eyes. “I- I- It doesn’t feel proper for a Jedi to be in a relationship.”

From the hesitations in her voice and her avoidant eyes, you can tell there is something else she is not verbalising. If this was Morrigan’s true thoughts, her righteous personality would have made her deliver her words with more conviction. Neutrally, you reply, “Why is that?”

“Because… Because it is disgusting!” Morrigan’s quiet voice snaps and turns aggressive with deep-seated rage, catching you confused and off guard.

“I’m sorry? Do you not like me and Claire being emotional with each other, or is it the physical stuff you want to see?” Your voice is smooth as butter, trying to avoid further stirring up Morrigan’s emotions and pry the cause of such feelings from her.

“No,” She almost shouts in her continued angry tone, then deflates her following words lacking the previous fire. “It's just… I’ve seen people give everything up for sex. Addicted to it as if some drug fiend. They only care about the next time, forgetting the world around them. I don’t want you to…”

Morrigan’s lips quiver, and tears begin to form in her eyes. You wrap Morrigan up in a firm hug as her tears start to fall, and she cries into your chest. Ah, so it’s her mother, poor girl. Running a hand through Morrigan’s bright blue hair, you allow her to sob, releasing her built-up emotion as her arms try to encircle your chest. Her crying comes under control, and you keep hold of her in your paternal hug, Morrigan seems contented staying there. As if scared of spooking wild fauna, which you are stalking, you softly ask, “Do you want to talk about your mother?”

“I hate her,” Morrigan hisses as she looks up at you with her tear-stained face. “Every night, a man would come with a credit chit in hand and pay for her time. And she fucking enjoyed it. She didn’t give a fuck about me, I was an unwanted accident. A chain around her ankle holding her down. She didn’t even care enough to hate me. And the men would give me looks, some even asked if I wanted to make some money. And I’m scared; I’m scared that one day my mind is going to get rewritten with my species' lust and become just like that whore.”

“Morrigan, I promise you, you are nothing like her. And every being, even Zletrons, can withstand their urges; we are all sentients with our own choices. Your mum chose her mistakes, and you are so much better than her. All you need to do is whatever you think is right, and if you ever don’t trust yourself, trust me. I will always be your friend and mentor, and I will help you with whatever you need. If you really want me and Claire can be less open about our relationship around you, if that is what you really want?”

“What does it feel like? Being with Claire.”

“It feels wonderful, I feel happiness in a way I never knew was possible. Not because of sex, but because just being with her is wonderful. I can't describe it, but I lo- she's really important to me for who she is, Claire makes the world shine even brighter for me, not because of the physical aspect. And one day, I hope you find someone who makes you feel how I do with Claire. But that doesn’t change how important you are to me; I’m never going to ignore you or put you aside. I’m going to work my arse off to make sure you are the best Jedi ever.”

“I don’t mind watching you with Claire, I do get a little bit confused with watching the two of you but I will get used to it. A part of me likes watching the two of you, it's like having a mum and a dad.” Despite exhausting herself from the tears, Morrigan manages to blush, her pink cheeks turning red. Craning your head, you plant a platonic kiss on Morrigan’s forehead; only after the action do you worry about the impact of the action. Thankfully, she seems comforted by the gesture. You stay together a while longer, reassuring her in your arms silently before you let go. Morrigan scampers off, embarrassed by the interaction, and you allow her to be alone.

Arriving in the Tion system, you see a familiar Star Dreadnought surfing the stellar waves and judiciously patrolling the system. It is an awe-inspiring manifestation of power; from reading up, you know that Dreadnoughts generate roughly two orders of magnitude the power compared to a regular Star Destroyer. The great monstrosity is able to take on forty of the lesser Destroyers, which themselves could conquer an entire system. As you fly deeper into the system, you dock with a large luxury cruiser; it seems more of a space station than a vessel. It is constructed to mimic a palace of old Naboo floating in space.

Entering the massive ship, a manservant takes you, Morrigan and Claire to your rooms. As you arrive, he informs you that the party will start later that night, and you will have an audience with Duke Denon tomorrow. He leaves, allowing you all to fill into your spacious room; Claire and Morrigan admire the splendour decorating the walls as you take a quick, rejuvenating shower. Claire then asks if Morrigan wants to go in Jedi robes to the party or wear something more girly. Claire’s voice displays her excitement at the opportunity to dress up Morrigan. Morrigan’s awkwardness is apparent, but Claire manages to twist her arm, and Morrigan shyly relents. You do like how Claire and Morrigan get along with each other. Turning to you, Claire asks if you are going in your robes to the party.

>You wear your robes, it will show Denon has Jedi support
>No, you will dress up in a fashion similar to the other partygoers; it is the best way to find out more about them

Anonymous

>>5976784
>Keep the robes
Part of his legitimacy here, we can even wear those big baggy brown ones. The one's which are deliberately hard to fight in.

>>5976788
Just an idle thought, we believe in justice and the active combating of evil.

But I feel that we should also givr some thought and consideration to how we view the force and our purpose with it.
The new order evidently believes as the jedi of The clone wars do. Dogmatic restraint and meditation to act as conduits of the force upon the galaxy.

These Jedi we recruited believe something a bit different, in the Warrior part of warrior monks and living in love with one another.

Maybe we should consider the Philosophy we wish to spread

>>5976784
>No, you will dress up in a fashion similar to the other partygoers; it is the best way to find out more about them
I want to know who he associates with and we won't get an accurate and unfiltered read of that dressed as a Jedi

Stumbling

UFC 300 has started and there's no deciding vote, no double update today.

Anonymous

>>5976784
>>You wear your robes, it will show Denon has Jedi support

>Robes
They'll be somewhat incognito, thus able to gather intel since people will have their guard down more among them. We'll be the one making a statement.

Stumbling

“I think it is best I wear my robes. It could improve his image to some of his guests, and I think he’d appreciate the open association of a Jedi.” You answer as you study yourself in the mirror, grooming your slick back hair.

“Ok, shall I wear my robes? Or shall I pick something out for me when I dress up Morrigan?” Claire walks behind you into the reflection of the mirror.

“Whatever you’d prefer.” Remembering she is not a guy and your conversation back on Lieserl, you add the words you think Claire wants to hear, “But I would love to see you in something special.”

Claire reaches up onto her tiptoes and plants a kiss on your cheek. Then Claire drags Morrigan out of your room with a skip in her step. As they leave, you catch Morrigan glancing at you, utterly helpless, as Claire steers her out. You know Morrigan will have fun with Claire; she just doesn’t have confidence in herself outside of being a Jedi, and hopefully, Claire can draw it out of her. Musing at the thought, a month or two ago, you wouldn’t have thought Claire, of all people, would be pushing Morrigan out of her shell. It is good to see Claire's confidence grow as you’ve been dating, it's nice that you being with her, if only for this short while, has changed her for the positive.

Doing very little to clean yourself up for the preparation for the ball, you feel lucky to be a man; this sort of stuff is so much easier than if you were a woman. Finally, the hour arrives, and you leave your room wearing your long Jedi robes, black as the night surrounding the spaceship that seems all the darker compared to your chalk-white skin. Your blond-white hair is slicked back as you typically wear it, and the scars on your face are clearly visible. You debate leaving your Lightsabers behind in your room or ship, but they are part of you and your uniform. At the very least, they are hidden within your robes, and no one should be able to spot them or have an issue with them.

Following a long corridor, you study the painting decorating the walls, making a very slow entrance to the main hall where the celebration is concentrated. Entering the great room, the first thing you notice is the tall dome ceiling; it is utterly transparent, displaying the water world of Tion and the innumerable stars hanging in space, shining brighter than ever before. Below the vastness of space stand trees that line the walls; slowly, white petals fall from the branches, giving the appearance of light snowfall. In the centre of the room is the dance floor, where most of the people are swaying to the live band, with many tables and alcoves for those to sit and share private conversations. Manservants glide around the room, providing drinks for the guests; one comes to you and offers a beverage, which you happily accept.

Standing there, you don’t know what to do or who to talk to. Everyone seems to be clustered in groups or dancing while you are alone. You take a sip of your alcoholic drink and survey the room, displaying a calm, relaxed visage, burying the awkwardness below. You notice this room is filled with young people, ranging from late teens to early thirties, all Human or Near-Human. Sadly, you do not spy Claire or Morrigan and will have to butt into someone’s conversation until you find someone that enjoys your company. With a silent sigh of resignation, you walk over to the masses to approach a group at random, you won’t let anyone catch you standing awkwardly alone.

As soon as you push yourself to socialise with utter strangers, you are swept up by three girls. One of them asks, “Hi, I’m Lena, and this is going to sound really stupid, but are you a Jedi?”

“Yes, I am,” You shrug, taken aback by the confrontation as they study you with the same interest a gol-raptor studies its next meal.

The one to your left smirks, haughty and attractive, she challenges you, “See I don’t believe you are. I think you are wearing Jedi robes for attention.”

“I’m sorry, I guess you will have to take my word for it.” You reply, utterly unsure what is going on at all.

“Couldn’t you use Jedi powers to prove it to us? Like a Jedi mind trick?” The one on your right asks in a much more pleasant and friendly tone.

“I could,” You pause, struggling with the situation. “But it would be very rude, and it only works on those with weak minds. You all seem far too intelligent for me to be successful.”

“I’m not.” The confrontational redhead raises her eyebrows at you with a challenging glare of disbelief. “Use it on me, make me believe you are a Jedi, you have my permission.”

You look around, trying to spy anything that would allow you to escape around the room. Relenting, you wave your hand and touch her mind with the Force, “You believe I am a Jedi.”

“I believe you are a Jedi.” The redhead answers back robotically with eyes glazed over. The other girls stare with open mouths wide and break into girlish giggles. She blinks a few times, and her mind becomes her own again, her tone now soft as velvet. “Wow, okay, he really is a Jedi girls. I’m so sorry about doubting you, I just didn’t know they made Jedi so handsome.”

Another of the girls laughs, “Why don’t you sit with us? We would love to hear about your work, I’ve always admired the Jedi.”

“I’ve always thought Jedi were hot.” Chimes in another, which causes the other two to giggle while you give a weak smile, feeling so out of place.

“Won’t you join us? My daddy is the President of Core Worlds Banking; I’m sure if you tell us all about your role as a Jedi, it could inspire us to make a donation.” The redhead asks, tugging your arm towards a secluded alcove.

Scanning around, you still need to find an excuse to escape. Still, you cannot see Claire or Morrigan, but there is someone you do recognise, Duke Denon, who is deep in conversation with one of his guests. You also spot a young man sitting by himself, looking utterly alone.

You…
>Talk to the Duke
>Talk to the lone boy
>Call Claire, ask where she is
>Write-in…

Anonymous

>>5977877
>Talk to the ladies, but keep an eye out for your date & apprentice; their father could make for a powerful ally

>>5977877
>Talk to the Lone boy.
>"I will happily join you later, when the rest of my team arrives. But for now, It is best that we keep mingling."

Do not engage with such forceful individuals

Stumbling

“Being a Jedi must be so hard, always sacrificing for others. Maybe we can do something to make it all worth it?” One of the girls asks as the others join the redhead dragging you over to a set of secluded seats. This feels like a really dangerous situation to be in, and an even more dangerous situation for Claire to find you. Their interest is resoundingly clear: they want to have a Jedi break their oath to celibacy, and they want to be the forbidden fruit to tempt you. Despite not wanting to continue this interaction, being openly desired in such a blatant and aggressive manner has you blushing like a schoolboy getting told a girl fancies him.

“Do you have a laser sword? I’ve never seen one before. Can you show it to me?”

“It is called a Lightsaber stupid.”

“Look, girls, it's great to meet you -WHOA, that’s not my Lightsaber. Look, I have to meet with someone. Him.” You point at random, ending at the sullen young man who stares into his commlink. As you jump out of the trio’s grasp, they pout, pulling disappointed faces.

“You will come back to us later, right?”

“Maybe, but no promises, I have much to discuss with my boy.” Your hands are raised, creating a barrier between you and them.

“If we don’t see you again tonight, you must share your commlink connection with us; I won’t let you leave before you do. Having a Jedi on call would be great if something horrible goes wrong.” The redhead demands, you accept it as your price for your escape, you give it and scamper off, not allowing them to suck you back into their clutches.

Grabbing two new drinks from a tray held by a well-dressed manservant, you neck the first one down, trying to use the sweet liquid to flush the experience away and take the other to slowly sip on. You sit down next to the man who is all alone in this hall that is charged with the excitement of youth. He looks up at you with a dazed, quizzical face, allowing and expecting you to explain yourself. You get a good look at the man with his face no longer buried within his communicator. You estimate that he is around your age, in his early twenties, and the human has dark black hair and matching dusky rings around his eyes from sleep deprivation; despite it, you can tell he was never the sort one would call handsome.

“Wow, the women here are intense.” You wave at the threesome that are still watching you, giving them a very fake smile. "You’ve got to pretend like we are discussing something; otherwise they are going to try to corner me again.”

“Sure,” He replies with the single word, not the talkative type. Either that or something is resting heavily on his mind from the sleep deprivation. You think the man has a story to tell.

“I’m Chris by the way.” You say with enthusiasm, trying to make up for his lack of energy only to mute it after realising that a man in his condition would be irritated by the eagerness.

“Xee,” He replies, then relents and says more than a single word. “You’ve never been to one of these parties before, have you?”

“First time, are people always so… forward?” This comment manages to get the smile out of Xee.

“It depends on who you are, of course, but it isn’t unusual here. Some people use it as a place to hook up, others for relationships, and some for business connections. All done behind closed doors with the right sort of people.” As the final word slips his mouth, his eyes go wide as if revealing a secret, and then Xee studies you for a second time in greater, more interested detail. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m meeting with our host,” you answer evasively. Not trusting further words on the topic, you purposely steer the conversation away. "What about you, why are you here?”

A dark look of forlorn sadness crosses his eyes. “My parents always made me go to these things. It feels wrong not to continue the tradition. If you mean, why am I one of the privileged? I’ve just inherited Bo Mining. Anyway, back to you. You agree with Denon and HAAS?”

Xee, looks at you with total curiosity as you answer him, studying your face for any movements that would betray a concealed thought. “I mean, who wouldn’t? I think we can all agree slavery is wrong and outdated in this era with droids that can work around the clock more efficiently and cheaply. The Hutts only perpetuate the practice out of their fetid cruelty.”

He smiles at your emotion rising at the end of your response, “It seems Hutts have continued the barbarism of slavery for countless thousands of years, they enjoy the lesser species suffering. How could we have a galaxy free of slavery without the Hutts? The galaxy is so massive that there will always be places their ilk can hide, nothing will ever stop them.”

“Depose them of their positions and strip their species of their ability to assume power in the future.” The thought of the Hutts and the treatment of your people has ignited a fire inside you, and you speak with passion.

“That’s a tall order; making sure a species is never able to assume any meaningful level of power ever again would be something very hard to do. I can only think of one method.” Xee chortles darkly, taking a new sip of his drink, and waves over a servant carrying a fresh tray of beverages. “Let us forget such dim talk. Let’s talk about other things.”

Drinks flow freely as you continue with Xee, who is now perky and energetic, enjoying conversing with you. You match Xee drink for drink until you feel them start to affect you and begin to slow down, much to Xee’s disapproval and chiding. Xee’s eyes widen and his jaw slackens looking away from you at something. Following his gaze, you see a figure, utterly radiant, her flawless skin purer than snow, glowing under the ceiling’s strong lights. She wears a deep v-neck red dress that emphasises her glow and sizable cleavage. Her flawless skin is only covered by the deep, rich red satin that matches her eyes and her lips.

The figure smiles down, pleased by your reaction; she offers you her hand, which you quickly take with haste. “May I have this dance?”

You escort Claire to the dance floor, after a compliment to a blushing Morrigan who looks very girly, which is unusually different from her typical attire. Taking Claire into your arms, you sway with her to the music, totally unsure how to dance, but that matters little as you study the woman you hold protectively. Exploring her dress, your gaze gravitates back to her chest, how the straining fabric tightly clings to her breasts. Your hands start on her hips; the alcohol in your system causes them to move, sliding as if pulled by an inevitable force resting on her behind, giving the occasional playful squeeze.

“What do you think?” Claire asks, inches away from you, her breath tickling your face.

“I think you are the most beautiful woman I have ever set my eyes upon.” Rewarding you with a brief kiss, you compliment Claire again, and she gives up another one, training you, conditioning you to shower her with endless compliments.

“These people will wonder how I seduced a stalwart member of the Jedi Order,” Claire grins at you, loving the attention you're giving her.

“I think they will be wondering how someone could be as stunningly beautiful as you.” Thankful that no rumours or pictures will spill from this exclusive party.

Spending the rest of the evening together, you never leave her side, nor do you break contact with her. Keeping Claire jealously locked in your arms, warding away lecherous onlookers wanting to sweep her up the second you release her. Finally, Morrigan gets tired, and the three of you return to your rooms. Standing in the corridor, you wait for your Padawan to close her door. You quickly pounce on Claire, pinning her against a wall and stealing deep, hungry kisses born from an urge growing all evening. Your hand slides up her midriff and paws at her heavy chest through the tight fabric as Claire pulls you tightly into the embrace, not allowing the moment to end.

Finally, eventually, you break from the lust-fueled make-out; Claire opens her door and turns to you. Her scarlet eyes mesmerizing you as they glow with desire, “Can you help me remove my dress? It is a struggle to take off.”

Her lie plain and obvious, wanting and need written across her face, you…
>Help her disrobe
>Wish her a good night

Anonymous

>>5978704
>Help her disrobe
Let's send it

>>5978704
Ill be the voice of restraint. Someone has too, drunk as shit isnt the way to enjoy this.
Maybe detox with a pill or something

>Bid her goodnight.

Stumbling

Good chance I don't update today, feeling tired as all hell.

Anonymous

>>5978704
>Send her to bed
We're dronk & we have business to attend to with the Duke.

Stumbling

I started writing last night with the disrobe choice, and we are split so I'm just going to continue with that direction. Hope thats cool.

Claire cocks her head and slinks into her room, her eyes not leaving yours. She watches you through the passage, watching your next move with bated breath. Wordless, you take a step forward; there is no internal battle or question you need to find an answer to. You want to be with Claire; you want to take her everything and give her your all back. Claire retreats into her room, and you follow. An invisible hand you conjure closes the door behind you, and you approach Claire, who has her back turned to you. Your hands go to her hips, then slide upwards with a frictionless ease, feeling her outline as they travel to her shoulders.

You give Claire a kiss on her cheek, then her neck, as your hands hold the straps of her dress. Slowly, you lift them off her shoulders and lower them; with a deliberate pace, you allow her dress to fall inch by inch as your kisses follow the same path downwards. Claire stands without movement, allowing your kisses to fall ever lower, and her body is slowly freed of clothing; there is a tension in her that hasn’t been there before. She is nervous about what is coming, her timidness of old returning. As you reach her hips, you allow the red silk to fall as your hands move to her underwear; sliding them to the ground, you kiss her alabaster cheek.

She shivers despite the warmth of the room; standing back up, you hug her naked body. The passion of the hallway is long forgotten. This is bigger than simple lust; there is plenty of time for that later; this is about the bond you share and its specialness. You stand there with her in your arms, using the Force to strip you of your clothes until you both are naked, holding her, feeling each other’s heat. With a gentleness, you scoop Claire up into your arms as if you were a knight of old carrying a princess. Laying her on the bed, Claire looks up at you, studying your body truly for the first time.

Claire’s hands explore your body as you pin her under you, feeling your strength in your muscular frame. She is so tiny compared to you, utterly defenceless and submissive beneath you; as you grope and play with her nude form, you are careful with your strength in fear it could shatter her porcelain body. Hot breaths escape Claire’s lips, and her chest heaves as your hands play with her form, toying with it, exploring every inch to see what gives you the best reactions. You focus on her, not your own selfish desires, loving her face contort with pleasure.

Finally, you and Claire become one. What starts off sweet, slow and careful becomes energetic, passionate, and hungry. For each movement you make, Claire works with you, moving to your rhythm and pressing against you with audible ecstasy. Claire’s sweet moans are the most incredible music to your ears, encouraging and spurring you on, wanting her to feel the greater depths of pleasure. Lost within each other, you surrender to the moment. Claire’s free-flowing pale hair is wild and unkempt as she writhes within your grip.

After all is done, Claire looks up to you with love-drunk eyes and says the three words that have almost escaped both your lips a number of times. You know you’ve only been together a short while, and this is the passionate stage of a relationship. But being with her makes you feel complete in a way you didn’t know you were lacking. Your reply is a simple mirror of her words, utterly true and heartfelt, the words do no justice to your feelings and how deeply you care about her. “I love you.”

Morning comes and you wake up early, feeling the warmth of a body pressed against you. It is Claire’s sleeping form, looking angelic in her restful slumber. Softly, making sure not to wake her, you run a hand through her silky hair; it brings a childish comfort that unlocks a memory of a memory of your mother. Slipping out of the bed, you silently get dressed and pull up the sheets to cover her naked torso. With a kiss on her forehead and a message through your communicator, you slip out of the room and allow Claire to rest peacefully as you go to see the Duke.

“Wow, look at you, finally a man. I do wonder if our host has cameras installed in the rooms. Personally I would.” You ignore the mocking words in your skull from the lost dead Sith.

A servant spots you as you enter the hallway, a young human woman who brightens at the sight appearance. You ask her how long she has been waiting for you, confused about how long she has stood in a monotonous vigil. The woman gives you a non-answer along with a polite smile and asks you to follow her to Duke Denon. She takes you through the space station-turned palace, along the endless corridors until you stand before a door. It is like any door on the ship, ornate and garish but utterly unremarkable. Bowing towards you, she opens the door to your meeting.

Duke Denon sits at a desk all smile, “Chris! I didn’t see you last night, I trust you had fun. I heard you spent a lot of your evening with your friend Claire. Interesting at the very least, considering the Jedi code. But don’t worry, we are all friends here. I hope. So, what do you need of me?”

“I want the galaxy to change,” You state, and Denon’s smile grows like a Bull-Cat about to pounce; he silently nods allowing you to continue. “The Republic and the Jedi Council aren’t doing anything about the Hutts and their pointless cruelty, or the evilness of The Singularity. The Hutts will continue with their abhorrent practises until the ability to enforce such suffering is stripped from them, and The Singularity will only end when they convince the entire galaxy to commit suicide. Burying one’s head in the sand isn’t the proper response, we need to do something, or the galaxy will continue to fester under their influence. This cleansing might cause pain, but it is a small price compared to the future where this anguish is without end.”

“And you want, no, need money?” Nodding his head at your words, still grinning a smile that seems too large for his face.

“Yes.”

“Well, that is something I have a lot of. And I like the words I hear, I know many of my brothers in HAAS would feel the same way. But the money you will require is a massive galaxy-spanning amount that will be funnelled into so many things, arms, warships and reconstruction. It would bleed us dry to fund such an effort. My brothers would need to meet you first and give you a lofty task bordering on the impossible to prove your ability to achieve such a thing, to convince us to go all in with you and risk everything. But let us ignore that for now and talk about what happens after the conclusion of this crusade for justice. The Hutts and The Singularity are gone and forgotten; what happens next?”

“We feel that the best way to avoid a repeat of the Repulic's cowardly passivity is to reduce the role of democracy while retaining some measure of it. We want the Jedi to oversee this newly freed region.”

“The Hutt's former empire won't be part of the Republic?”

Your voice is firm and controlled, businesslike and authoritative. “No, but not an enemy of the Republic. The galaxy was cared for by Jedi until the Ruusan Reformation ruined that. We want a return of that rather than politicians who care more about the coffers in their pockets than the wellbeing of their peoples.”

“I do like your vision, and I would be happy to invest in it if you prove your capabilities. But there is one requirement we would need. Ignoring the slow and fair repayment of the costs incurred to create such a change. We at HAAS would need to make sure that Humans and Near-Humans like your people are cared for and treated fairly, properly supported, and respected after their centuries of suffering at the hands of the Hutts and their minions. A special status that ensures their place at the top and helps them recover from directed generational cruelty. That is our desire and one requirement. What do you say?” Duke Denon looks at you with a friendly smile as he shrugs nonchalantly with eyes that couldn't tell a more different story.

How do you respond?
>Write-in

Anonymous

>>5980055
Your benefit is that you get the wartime economy that you've been intentionally planting the seeds of for years. Slaves of all races will receive assistance to achieve parity with other races, not supremacy. If that is your requirement then I will search for support from someone who truly shares my ideals.

>>5980055
Mention how our support is already growing within our order, & that we seek to liberate all people, but of course our own take some degree of priority.

>>5980055
>I will permit a specified status of priority for rebuilding and rehoming but I will not help forge another caste system. Equality of life is a principle I hold too.
>Besides which, I hope there will not be interest on that repayment, given the significant benefit gained through the fruition of your wartime economy you have been sowing carefully over the past decade.

I mostly agree with >>5980198
We do want to help em, but putting the oppressed as a first class citizenry and none oppressed as a second class neglected faction of citizens is not gonna fly. Resources not social dominanace.

Stumbling

“We will prioritise rebuilding and lifting up those people who were enslaved, but we will not create another caste system that denigrates sentients.” You tell the man firmly as you come to the realisation that his organisation is only guised in anti-slavery rhetoric, hiding the Near-Human supremacist views.

His face crumples at your words, not hearing what he wanted. The Duke rests his chin on his hand as his frown deepens. His narrowed eyes gaze right through you, as if you did not exist at all. As the silence builds, you go to speak, but Duke Denon shushes you, his mind deep in thought. Finally, his eyes refocuses, and an old smile returns to his lips, “I think we could work together. But for the massive amount of money we’d be funnelling into your cause, there would need to be a huge amount of oversight to ensure you aren’t abusing our relationship. And of course, when rebuilding these worlds, mine and the other companies supporting you, would be the first choice to set up infrastructure and be the primary partners for rebuilding. For a fair rate. Yes, that could work.”

Denon wants to colonise what would be the freed region with infrastructure belonging to him and his allies, locking them in as the default contractors for unless another megacompany spends massive expenses to break into the region. But that seems like a fair enough prize for their support, and there is always nationalisation if they quote exorbitant fees. “That sounds acceptable. I can, we can work with that.”

“Have you just made a deal with the devil? Maybe you should just give up on your foolish goals.” The incorporeal voice slivers in your skull.

“That is assuming you have the ability to affect such a change. Who knows, you may not be as competent as you claim. My friends and I will need proof.” Duke Denon continues, his second chin wobbling as he speaks.

“In a short time, I have grown the number of supporters within the Jedi Order. We have an entire planet of fifty Jedi who are going out to convince more of our brothers and sisters to see sense.” You reply, proud of your actions and those who agree with your ideals.

Duke Denon waves his hand, unmoved by your words. “You can easily have trillions of supposed supporters across the galaxy, but how many would leave their homes and peel their eyes from their holomovies?”

“We both know that Jedi are people of action,” You say tersely, not appreciating his questioning of your comrades.

“Isn’t part of the reason you are here is due to your Jedi Council’s inaction?” He shoots you a smug grin, then cuts you off as you are about to reply with a barbed comment. “But let us not argue over such things; there is no point. And yes, I concede Jedi are not the average beings of the galaxy. We would need some great act or two, depending on the scale, to win over such trust from my allies. While I believe that you are fully capable of your words, others will need more.”

“What sort of thing would you need to see?” Your temper has not fully subsided and is affecting your tone.

“It depends on how much you want to impress us. The more you impress us, the more we can trust you. I think it would be best if you did the great feat alone, without any of our support, no matter how limited. It would simply be a better sell to see what you can do alone and how our money can magnify that.”

“What sort of thing would impress your friends? Should I not meet them first to find out?” There are many anonymous members of HAAS, and you would like to know their faces. It would give you some limited power over them.

“They trust me to speak for them and wish to remain faceless, I’m sure you can understand, you do not need to concern yourself with meeting them. From now on, after this meeting, unless absolutely vital, our meetings will be extremely rare. I will send someone with you as my own voice.”

“Ok, so, what sort of action would inspire them to open their pockets.”

“Each feat would open up pockets to different degrees. Personally, I would favour something large and grand. Get everyone on your side as soon as possible; building ships and arms is not cheap or quick. But you could do multiple easier tasks to win them over slowly. But as said, warships have a long lead time.” The Duke sighs as he thinks. “For a lesser, but great task, you could capture a Star Destroyer class vessel. One of only nine thousand vessels in the entire galaxy of quadrillions. Or you could liberate a planet as something more impressive. While a Star Destroyer is more valuable than all but the most exceptional worlds, capturing one is an easier thing. Taking a world with fifty people by your side, even if they are Jedi, would be awfully impressive. For that, I would advise a world with a lot of slaves; it would make things much easier. Of course, these tasks would have to target the Hutts.”

You counter, “Taking a world in Hutt space would be pointless; as soon as the Hutts find out, they would bombard the planet into submission.”

“That’s why you wouldn't declare independence after success. Make everything seem running as normal while using it as a base for building up your power in Hutt space. Not everything needs to be loud and proud. Those are my ideas, but if you wish to float your own, you are welcome.”

You…
>Decide to capture a Star Destroyer
>Decide to liberate a world
>Go with a different Idea(write-in)

Anonymous

>>5980880
>Rob the Hutt Grand Council's vaults within their private worlds

A star destroyer is impressive, but minor in scale ultimately. A planet will be almost impossible to liberate quietly. If the Hutts find out it was a Jedi who broke in, all the better should their tempers cause them to openly retaliate against the Republic & the Order. The blowback will all but assure our aims are accomplished. Hurt our enemies at their most vital weak point, their horded wealth.

>>5980934
Anon is going big here. I'm into it

>>5980934
+1 VERY BIG thinking right here. Would also inspire more criminals to try to hit the vaults when we succeed.

>>5980934
>Support.

Anything we dont take. We should ruin, thermite perhaps.

Hurt their coffers something terrible.

>>5980934
I like this goal but we need to remain discreet for now. Our splinter group could still be eradicated by the current order if they choose

>>5981341
I'd like to not be noticed, but so long as we are hitting their cash flow, then it's a worthy demonstration

>>5981284
+1, if we can't take it, yeet it into The Maw

Stumbling

You shake your head at the suggestions Denon floats, “I want to do something that will hurt them, more than the loss of a Star Destroyer or a backwater planet. I want to attack them where they will feel it the most. I want to strike their reserve vault.”

Duke Denon’s eyes balloon at your statement, thoroughly taken aback by the scope of your proposal. “You want to travel to one of the most secure systems in the galaxy to break into one of the most heavily guarded buildings ever constructed. And then steal what you can, and I guess destroy the remaining hundreds of thousands of tons of credits and aurodium you cannot carry off with you? Well, that would certainly be more impressive than anything I suggested. It would undoubtedly be inspiring, at the very least. That is if you could achieve it. I will forward you the little information I have on the fort.”

“Thank you. I will let you know when I have succeeded.” You say as you rise to your feet, leaving the old fat man behind.

“Excellent, but if you later decide the task is too great, do not force yourself to do the impossible. I guess Jedi are known for achieving that despite the odds. Also, where are you based? I will need to send a representative to be my mouth in lieu of my presence.” You tell him briefly of Lieserl and its location, then you disappear through the door.

You are back on Lieserl, it feels good to be off a vessel constantly recycling its atmosphere and be on a real world. Currently, you are sitting around a holotable with several Masters and your closer allies. The holotable projects a moon within a system populated with a number of planets orbiting a sun; more importantly, there are two space stations hanging in the void. One is a minor dockyard designed to repair limited damage a vessel might incur, and the other is a hangar housing squadrons of fighters and bombers. Furthermore, there are seven icons dotted around the system, each one a stand-in for Krula class vessels, which fall into the Star Destroyer category. The moon that sits at the centre of the projection is displayed in a light blue dome, which indicates a shield protecting the stellar body. That moon is Hutta’s Gem, a planetoid partially hollowed to house the massive amount of physical wealth stolen by the Hutt’s Empire.

Scion runs his hand through his hair looking at the display, audibly exasperated, “Chris I have no idea how we would break into the moon, stay undetected for long enough and flee with what we can carry. Yes, we should be able to destroy what is held within if we were able to enter the fort, a large enough antimatter bomb should annihilate the internals. But how could we penetrate the shields, enter the docking bay, and avoid the Krulas? I just don’t see it.”

Temple Master Reela scratches her chin. “We are not able to blast our way through these defences. Not with anything we have got, and even if we did, it would have to be quick. As soon as the alarm is triggered, the rapid reaction fleet, based only a couple of jumps away, will arrive. But leveraging what little firepower we have is not a Jedi’s path. We need to trust in our abilities in the Force.”

Alyla adds to Reela’s words, “How far do we think mind tricks could get us?”

This time, it is Claire’s turn, “Not far enough; even if we clouded the mind of every captain of the Krulas, their crews would still see us and shoot us down.”

“Even if we could do that, we’d then need to penetrate the shield and breach the docking bay, which is tiny. It's purposely designed for smaller ships, limiting single deposits and withdrawals.” Scion jumps back into the conversation, not happy with the idea at all.

“As you said, there are deposits and withdrawals. We could hijack one of those ships transporting goods and use that as our ticket in.” You answer back, trying to bite down your temper.

This time, Master Jaina speaks, “Each of these transport ships, the Golden Barges, come each month and are escorted by a single Krula. To do that, we’d have to fool the crew of the Krula and dispatch the crew of the Golden Barge.”

“We could do one of two things based on how I see it anyway. We could somehow put a few Jedi into the Golden Barge’s cargo hold and get shipped into the base. That would limit our number to half a dozen. Or we could attack that Krula, board it and the Golden Barge, allowing us to bring as many of us as we can spare.” Master Luke replies with a shrug, uncertain of the feasibility of his ideas.

Scion speaks again, the vexation growing greater in his voice, “This is all great, but once we get in, there will be thousands of staff dedicated to the protection of the Hutt's assets to deal with. The crew of the golden barges are welded within their ships, and they are not allowed to leave. Then there will be the alarms, and we want to leave the system intact. This requires everything to go perfectly for us to be able to pull this off. If anything goes wrong, we will be fucked.”

Claire, who, of course, is sitting next to you, discreetly slips her hand over yours and covertly squeezes it. The gesture tells you two things: one, it is your time to speak to decide the outcome of this discussion, and second, she supports you whatever your plan is. You…
>Sneak aboard a Golden Barge’s cargo with a limited number of Jedi
>Strike a Golden Barge and a Krula in transit
>Wait for the next Hutt to travel to inspect the stored wealth and hide among their slaves
>write-in

Anonymous

>>5981669
>We could steal a Cruiser, Turn it into a bomb and ram it into the asteroids side. Antimatter could do serious damages.

If thats not viable, creating fire ships, then.

>Sneak aboard with a limited number of jedi

Stumbling

>>5981679
>>We could steal a Cruiser, Turn it into a bomb and ram it into the asteroids side. Antimatter could do serious damages.
The shield generator is too strong, it can sustain heavy planetary bombardment for a period. Unless you had a SSD or a fleet of SDs it would take too long to strip.

Anonymous

>>5981669
>Sneak aboard a Golden Barge’s cargo with a limited number of Jedi

Stealth is the only way this is feasible. A strike team that we need to train with as long as possible and coordinate responses to every possibility.

They will have advanced technological defenses. We may need to recruit technological specialists, people with more familiarity with the vault, criminals who have experience with this sort of work.

I'm less interested in stealing their wealth and more with destroying it.

We need create an easily concealable bomb, possibly one that looks like a valuable artifact that holds up to even close scrutiny.

We get in stealthily with our highly trained crew.

Plant the bomb with a very delayed fuse so we can jump far away before it detonates.

After the bomb goes off we can tip off any pirates in the area about the massive scattered hoard being up for grabs in the area, causing more confusion and chaos in the aftermath to help us escape.

>>5981669
>>Wait for the next Hutt to travel to inspect the stored wealth and hide among their slaves

Stumbling

Taking tonight off. Next update will likely have a time skip, if not the one after that will. Give me a 1d100-10 for how well the Jedi on Lieserl have done to win over new Jedi.

“We should sneak in with the cargo, somehow hide within a container. If they do not notice us in a container, they should unload in close proximity to the vault, if not within it.” You muse openly your inner thoughts.

Scion shrugs at your idea, “That sounds great, but that requires a fair few ifs. Why wouldn’t they detect us in the container? How would any Jedi survive the long transit in the airless hold?”

Answers come to mind, you ask if these ideas are feasible, “Could we not create a container to spoof readings? Making it look as if it contains rare metals, but it is really us and a bomb powerful enough to gut the interior of the vault. And stasis pods should hold us during the journey.”

The council of Jedi discuss the matter, mirroring the ones on Coruscant. But unlike them, all are pushing for productive solutions rather than gradual concessions and retreats. Over the next few days, it is clear your idea is the one that is favoured. Still, the debates go on in different forms until the night of action, each time the topic is different, weighing the pros and cons to incremental changes, trying to find new ideas to increase the plan's likelihood of success. Scion is eventually seduced by the idea, but he remains a voice of worry, trying to find the flaws in the plan before it is put into action.

It is not cheap to construct the faux container. In fact, it takes a massive amount of the wealth from the Jedi on Lieserl, as does the bomb, it almost bankrupts the Jedi-owned planet. But both will do what you need them to do; the bomb will crack the moon, and the container will spoof any scanner, making it appear as an innocent load of beskar. While there are many types of explosives that could be used, the choice for an antimatter bomb was clear: it annihilates its surroundings, not just destroys them, leaving no melted rare metals remaining if caught within the blast. You overhear some grumbles about the project's expense, typically joined with a comment doubting the chance of the mission’s success.

As time passed, more and more new Jedi arrived on Lieserl; at first, there were only a few new faces, but as the months passed, the number of arrivals grew until they outnumbered the original members of the temple. Forty-nine became fifty-six with your arrival, and now your number is one hundred and seventeen, growing by sixty-one new Jedi. Looking over the new faces, you feel proud of your work, that your message had such a draw and that your allies have done an excellent job bolstering your numbers. Most find the new Jedi acceptance of relationships curious at first, unsure how to act with such alien concepts they’ve been pushed away from. Still, many relationships develop quickly after the initial unsurety.

Taking a long last look at the temple, you see the new housing constructed to home the new Jedi; the buildings are fine on their own, but compared to the ancient ziggurats that they sit next to, they are ugly eyesores. Sadly needs of the now. There is only room for five stasis pods in the technological wonder shaped in the figure of a container. You, of course, are going, and initially, Morrigan wasn’t, but after her incessant begging, you agree. Yes, the mission is dangerous, but all of them will be. You can have her shy away from danger despite your instincts to shield her from harm. Master Alyla and Jaina also join you; they are strong in the Force and wizards with their Lightsabers, as well as Scion, mainly for his analytical skills.

You take an ugly, worn shuttle that has seen many journeys into Hutt-controlled space. Temple Master Reela and Claire have joined you to ensure the Golden Barge picks up the container that will carry you and pilot the shuttle back to Lieserl. Travelling through Hutt space is a challenge in itself; each time you slip out of hyperspace into the real universe, you feel a sickness deep in your soul. It poisons your mind, infecting your dreams, turning them into nightmares, the only comfort is waking up next to Claire, which does soothe you. One day, as you travel, a voice speaks to you, “It is The Singularity affecting the Force; the aberrations they do to the souls of their followers are leaving a stain on this world. They are poising the well, warping the Force with the constant rituals of mass suicides.”

Finally, you make it to your destination, an asteroid on the fringe edge of the Hutt empire at the tip of the galaxy’s spiral arms. It is a giant asteroid that one day will be dragged too close to the star it orbits and eviscerated, but that day is further away than the time humans first touched space. Before that day, when this rock will be destroyed, it will first be thoroughly mined, with none of the valuable beskar ore remaining.

The plan remains simple; fewer moving parts mean a smaller chance of something going wrong; the idea is also assisted by the lack of information you were able to find out about Hutta’s Gem. It sits in the Har’Sal Sector, reserved for only Hutts and their slaves, little information travels in and out. You only have discovered that apart from the Golden Barges and the rare Hutt, nothing travels in and out of the moon turned vault. Your container will be swapped out for the one of processed beskar, the how was something you left until you arrived on the asteroid.

While playing the part of professors and students from a Republic University, you inquire about the entire process. You find the weak link in the procedure. Only one man, the director of the asteroid, physically checks and signs off the outgoing container that is to be picked up by the Golden Barge. If you somehow influence him to look the other way, your container will be ferried to Hutta’s Gem. The only other check is the sensors that scan the internals of the container, which should be fooled by your expensive custom electronics. What you do know of him is that he is a hated man with little care for others and an insatiable appetite for women and power, with many wanting his blood for his harsh worker conditions. Also, his young daughter suffers from the microscopic particles in the air that have damaged her lungs.

How do you convince the director to switch the containers? (A failed roll will mean you will have to mentally dominate him for some time, damaging his mind, using the Force in this manner is a darkside ability)
>Bribe him(1d100)
>Heal his daughter(1d100)
>Seduce the director(1d100)
>Dominate his mind
>Write-in(1d100)

Anonymous

>>5983595
>Bribe him(1d100)
If we can avoid being outed as Jedi we should

>>5983761
sound logic, but Force Healing sounds more akin to the Jedi Way.

>>5983595
>Heal the daughter

Just request privacy and some mining equipment to make it legit.
"We planned for this."
Should keep him spooked and cover us as jedi

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>5984326
just waiting for you to ask

Stumbling

You slide onto a chair within a bar; it is a dark building with elongated shadows stretching from corner to corner. Your cloak is dark, eating the light that touches you, creating a barrier of night that enshrouds you. A drunk man glares at you with anger in his eyes outraged you would sit at his booth, surrounding the director are two young women dolled up with makeup to hide their true visage. Quietly, you tell the women to leave over the ugly music, your words cutting through the noise with a menacing strength; their empty minds allow your Force Suggestion to guide them away from this forced meeting. This sends the director irate; his Devaronian face grows increasingly red and is about to explode in loud outrage.

Snatching out, your hand grabs his arm, squeezing it in your powerful grip. His outrage evaporates into scared whimpers as he feels your strength crushing his flesh and bones. This man disgusts you; he is the perfect example as to why this empire cannot just be reformed but must be burnt away with cleansing fire. The director babbles on about having money and is able to do you favours as you slack your grip enough, so the pain is gone, but he is still trapped within your grip, unable to escape. Your face hidden within the shadow of your hood, you turn towards the man, only your scarlet eyes which glow with malice are visible.

“What would you do for your daughter?” You ask the director in a hiss that only he can hear. The music swallows your words, keeping them secret, just between the two of you.

“What?” The director doesn’t comprehend your words initially, assisted by the high concentration of alcohol in his system; then his face blanches as meaning is assigned to your words.

“I know she is dying of the polluted air you force your workers to suffer from. And I know you have spent more than a small fortune in an attempt to cure her. I also know how to save her.” Like a serpent, you whisper to him within the dark, humid bar. With each word, you sink more of the Force into his mind, clouding it with the thoughts you want him to think.

His eyes bulge at your words, and there is a new desperateness within them, not to escape but for salvation for his daughter. The director’s voice is a concoction of hope and fear mixing together into a bizarre cocktail: “You can save her?”

“For a price.”

You tell the man to ask no questions and to bring you his daughter in a secluded alleyway, which he does. His face is a mask of fear as he enters the veil of shadows between the buildings, clutching his sleeping daughter tightly to his chest. Appearing behind him, you allow your cruel smile to show as he jumps at your appearance. With an obvious internal debate, he hands you his child, who is locked in a deep slumber. As soon as she enters your arms, you disappear into the shadows, leaving the most powerful man on this asteroid alone, in utter fear for his daughter’s safety.

The next day, you return with his child, now healthy and free from the poisoned toxins which were embedded in her lungs. You and the other Jedi spent the entire day watching over her, healing her, and allowing the Force to flow into her, flushing the killing microparticles from her body. The joy on the director’s face is radiant in this isolated alleyway between two tall buildings that shield the passage from streetlights. He almost runs up to her before his self-preservation instincts force his eyes to refocus on your intimating figure. You allow him to take his healed daughter, and as soon as she re-enters his arms, he goes to leave. With an outstretched hand, you grab his shoulder, causing the man to squeak, reminding him that there was a deal, and you name your price. Blanching at your words, he offers you many other things, money, power, women, girls, boys, but you simply reiterate your price. You leave him with these final words: the gift I have given you can be easily undone.

Claire's eyes glimmer with unshed tears as you are about to disappear into the depths of your container, to be interred within the stasis pod that would leave you locked within a state of torpor. With a final goodbye and a long hug, which causes Claire to finally spill those tears she has been holding back, you enter the device. Claire and Reela watch as loading droids fill the container with the large bomb and the five tubes carrying five sleeping Jedi. Watching with a hand over her heart, Claire observes the Golden Barge accepting your container in lieu of the one holding a mass of refined beskar and fly into the stars.

Waking is an unpleasant experience; your body feels utterly wrong, as if ripped apart and incorrectly sewn together. Trapped in a claustrophobic coffin which restricts your ability to do anything but lay within the darkness. The screen in front of your face flickers to life, displaying the estimated location of the Barge based on the time elapsed, you are about to enter Hutta’s Gem. Outside the resplendent ship, a small portion of the shield that encases the asteroid-turned vault dissipates the imperviable barrier, allowing the singular vessel entry. Golden jaws of the docking bay open, revealing the hangar, utterly empty apart from the four truck-sized loader droids. Landing the Barge automatically opens its cargo hold, receiving the automated instruction from the structure rather than its pilots.

The loaders quickly remove the large containers from the ships into a shielded elevator that will take them down to the vault for unpacking. They move with robotic repetition, removing each container in the same practised manner they have done for their entire existence. There is only one alteration to this procedure, each time the loaders go to pick up your container they withdraw their arms and go to a different container until all have attempted to move you apart from the last droid. The last droid picks up your container and carries you onto the blast-shielded elevator made of near-impervious araksteel. Each time these droids made contact with your container, they were probed by a small datajack hijacking their code and overriding it with your preprepared instructions.

Just as the elevator doors are about to close, you trigger your plan to keep the Golden Barge docked within Hutta’s Gem, to be later used as your getaway vehicle by…
(1d100 please)
>Damaging the hangar’s doors, stopping them from closing
>Damaging the Golden Barge’s engines
>Write-in

Anonymous

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>5984441
>Damaging the hangar’s doors, stopping them from closing
Via a loader droid "malfunction"

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>5984441
>>Damaging the hangar’s doors, stopping them from closing

>>5984441
>Damaging the doors
Don't fuck with the engines of your escape shuttle.

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>5984441
+1, dumb robit ran into it

Stumbling

Not feeling all that great, maybe I'll be feeling better tomorrow or the day after and I'll continue the thread. But maybe not and I'll disapear for a bit idk.

Anonymous

>>5985288
Getting tired of the quest or what?

Stumbling

>>5985340
Slighty, there are new quests I want to try, but I can power through that feeling. Its more my head isn't on straight. <s>The last couple of weeks I've been having mad mood swings and whenever I go out I've been looking for an excuse to throw down over nothing. I'm not rude to people when I talk to them or anything like that, its just when I'm on the streets I go these feelings.</s>

Anonymous

I've been there dude, you need a change of scenery. Switch up where you hangout, go out in nature, switch departments or gigs altogether, fap less, etc.

>>5990669
Sorry mate, still just feeling all wrong. But I do want to finish the thread, otherwise I know I will 100% drop the quest and after 100k+ words it'd be a waste to end it like this.

I'll get out an update tomorrow or the day after.

With a press of a button, one of the loader droids slams into another, sending its fellow compatriot across the hangar. The top-heavy robot slams into the opened doorframe that leads to the vast emptiness of space. Its arms, a facsimile of an ancient forklift, spear into the wedge left by retracted shutters. A whine emanates from the electronic voice synthesiser, followed by a garbled blurt in the droid’s native Binary. The other three watch the supposed workplace accident with a dumb vacancy; only after it is long done do they react. They swarm around their trapped friend and pretend to try to pry him from entrapment, their minds all infected with the virus, rewriting the code within their circuits that tells them to play the role while doing nothing that could undo the damage.

The three robots shrug and return to the elevator, leaving their comrade trapped. They relay to you that a signal has been sent to call engineers to remove the stuck droid. The door slides shut behind them, and the elevator lowers deeper into the moon. Finally, after some time, the elevator’s smooth descent halts, the doors reopen to another bay, and the remaining droids unload all of the cargo containers from the elevator and then open them up. Long, slender arms unfold from their chest, and they reach out to the depths of the containers. The robotic hands pick up the contents and begin withdrawing them from the containers.

The large antimatter bomb is withdrawn from your container; the large device can only be gripped by the reinforced prong primary arms. The loader then unstacks the stasis pods within the container, allowing you and your fellow Jedi to exit the pods. As soon as the transparasteel coffin lid slides away, you jump free of the prison. With a deep breath, you centre yourself and purge the stress built from the claustrophobic confinement. You notice similar relief in the faces of the other Jedi as they are no longer restrained in those tiny tubes.

Looking past the droid that is gazing into the container, you see the massive bomb that was taking up the majority of the space within the container. Despite its size, it is still hard to fathom that something that small can do so much damage. Once again, the machine speaks in Binary, a language you have never been able to wrap your head around. Master Jaina then speaks, condensing its words into summarised Basic, “Within the walls, there are gaps which a shield runs through. If we set off the bomb with the shields up, it’ll do minimal damage. We need to either hit the control station or the generator to shut down the shield.”

“Any information on the station’s defences?” You reply, speech feels strange to your mouth after being held so long in the stasis pod.

Jaina asks the loader, who replies back. After getting an answer, she turns to you, “No, these droids have no information about the vault’s defences. In fact, they are blind to them. I wouldn’t be surprised if their programming totally removes all visual inputs from security.”

“Ok, let’s move low and fast; we can’t let anyone see us with their eyes or through their cameras. Wearing our robes, we will stick out like aurodium in shit.” You tell your group of five.

Looking down at Morrigan, you shoot her a smile, hoping that this mission isn’t too intense for your young Padawan. Morrigan thankfully shows no sign of worry, seeming happy to be here with you and excited to do something meaningful. Slipping your head out of the container, you see the unloading bay; a gaudy metallic gold shine coats the walls and the ceiling; the only respite is the green marble floor. You want to withdraw back into your stasis pod to retreat from the assault on your eyes, but you power through. There is no one around apart from the three infected robots under your command; they continue unloading all the different containers of their opulent items by category.

Darting from the safety of a container, you sprint through the vast room towards an open corridor. The Force tells you to send out a small shove of telekinetic energy which ever so slightly moves a camera surveying the room, allowing you to exit unseen. The corridor ends at a T-junction, and an image is in front of you. Two images are etched into the wall: the first image is of a nondescript humanoid with an arrow pointing left, and the other is a cylindrical spiral with an arrow pointing right. Master Jaina tells you that the left passageway will take you towards the direction of the generator and the right will take you to the control station.

You decide to…
>Go left
>Go right
>Split up
>Write-in

>>5992601
>Go right
Much safer to disable the control station than a generator.

>>5992601
FUCK YEAH, +1 to the Control Station

>>5992601
Can we set the antimatter bomb somewhere where its expanding radius will hit the generator first, disabling the shield, and then reach the vault? Or does it have to be placed within the vault?

If it goes off in the vault and destroys all the hoard inside in that small localized area then that's mission success right? Would disabling the generator just allow us to destroy the whole moon?

>>5992690
The bomb is the size of a van. You'd need to ferry it with one of the droids if you wanted it to destory the generator with it, which would raise alarms. The vault is not one sprawling open room but many individual vaults housing different items.

Sorry no update tonight, left it too late and I've got to get up early for the doctors.

The clear choice is to the right; while destroying the generator powering the massive facility would allow your bomb to gut the vault, there are undoubtedly reserve generators that will signal an alarm to the entire system. Escape would have been almost impossible with the seven Krulas patrolling the region, and that impossibility, in addition to the current one you are performing, is a step too far. Taking a last look at the cylindrical spiral, you spend a quick second of mental power trying to assess the meaning of the image, but nothing springs to mind. With a wordless nod to the right, you lead your party, Morrigan close to your heels.

Jogging down the labyrinthine hall, you take a few turns, seeing no one on your journey thus far, hoping that none of the security cameras’ feeds are being viewed. Reaching a door, you see the same helix made of green lights protruding from the golden wall. The emerald of the marble floor seems to stretch upwards and contaminate the colouration of the gold walls with a green hue. The wide door, large enough for one of the overweight slugs to crawl through, opens to reveal a room that is dark and shadowed but with enough light to allow you to see.

A wave flows through the open doorway, like a gust of wind carrying a powerful stench that sends an alarm deep into your bones. Taking a step to your side, you block Morrigan from the opening, guarding her from whatever lies within. Your hands are deep in your black robes, fondling the hilts of your Lightsabers. A second passes as you wait for some vile creature to leap out, but nothing comes, so you take a step into the dark precipice of the room. The sick foulness intensifies as you breach the room; there is something in this large hall. It is something utterly wrong that gnaws at your mind.

To either side, there are figures illuminated by lights behind them, leaving their silhouette as the only detail you are able to make out from a distance. They do not move; perhaps they are mannequins, or perhaps they are simply waiting for you to look in a different direction before launching into an attack. Cautiously, you walk up to the closest figure; all the while, your eyes adjust to the low level of light. The statue is of a male Cathar on his knees, so very lifelike but utterly unmoving; behind him is a diorama of a forest with other statues. Primitive spears slick with blood rip through the flesh of the other Cathars, hoisting them off the jungle floor; scorched blaster marks burrow into blackened flesh, leaving a crater of burnt fur. These are not just statues; they are taxidermies of dead Hutt enemies perfectly preserved in their gruesome defeat for hundreds or even thousands of years.

As you are about to walk away, something about the Cathar on his knees catches your eyes; taking a last look, you crane over him, trying to discern what you saw on the edge of your view. Then you see it, you see his eyes move. The insane spheres track you as you recoil from the figure; you do not need to use the Force to feel the pain and suffering locked within. Gawping at the kneeling Cathar, your party crowds around you, wary of whatever caused you to jump. Alyla asks what is wrong in a soft, soothing voice, attempting to calm you, but it does nothing; you can feel him, his insane madness and his pain. The Cathar is locked within a particle shield that traps him, but there is more that has been done to him. To keep this defeated foe alive for so long, there were surgical procedures to cut the man open, ripping out unnecessary organs and replacing them with machined components, allowing his suffering and defeat to last an eternity. You are unable even to give him the sweet relief of death, allowing him to finally join his comrades in their failed journey.

“It is nothing, let us go.” You speak to your companions in a steely, detached voice; your blades do not have the strength to slice through such a shield, and you can not end his suffering. Guiding them away from the living corpse, you steal one last pained look at the man, not letting Morrigan understand the horror of his condition. All you hope for is there are controls to free him and the others in the control station. Alyla, not reassured by your cold demeanour, she wraps her cool blue fingers with your ghostly white digits and gives you a slight squeeze to let you know she is here with you.

Morrigan strays from the group as you walk down this long corridor of defeated foes locked within an undying prison, curiosity peaked. With a sharp call, you demand her to fall in and rejoin you, which she quickly does hurt clear on her face. Finally, you leave the great hall and can truly breathe again. The passageway returns back to the gold and green, which is a horrendous assault on the eyes; there is a fortune to be made by just removing the gold walls of the facility.

Reaching your target, you are greeted by a reinforced door leading to the control room overseeing the facility. The question is how to get through the obstacle into the protected room. Alyla looks at you questioningly as a hand of hers grasps her Lightsaber, seemingly ready to attempt to carve through the bulkhead.

As a group, you…
>Carve through the door with your Lightsabers
>Batter the bulkhead down with the Force
>Use the Force to convince them to open the door
>Write-in

Sorry about not updating yesterday, had a lot of things going on, might be able to double update today but no promises.

>>5995100
>Carve through the door with your Lightsabers
I think time is of the essence now

>>5995100
Bulkhead would take too long, I know from smokin' the Qui-Gon Jinn Phillips-head Runtz.

>Combine the party's efforts into a Force Illusion of an impatient Hutt on the other side of the bulkhead where you are all standing
Ask the Sith demon in our head for help if need be.

>>5995100
>Use force mind trick or illusion

While Lightsabers would be able to carve through the imposing grey steel of the security door given time, it would not be immediate. The room’s occupiers would notice the orange glow of the bulkhead before your blades melted their way through the barrier. An alarm would be raised, spelling disaster before you’d be able to enter the room. You have to attack the barrier at its weakest link, the people controlling it. There is a video screen by the door to communicate with the people locked within the room. After telling your friends to get out of view, you go to it and press a holographic button to call the people inside.

A sphere grows and shrinks, a graphic to inform you that the call is waiting to be received on the other side of the shielded control centre. A confused face stares at you dumbly, shocked by the call he receives at this odd time. The puzzled alien face gazes at you with his mouth wide, showing his yellow-stained serrated teeth. He is a humanoid with orange scales, the colour of autumn leaves which covers his reptilian flesh. In the image, you see the room around him; lights, buttons, and screens adjourn every inch of the walls, allowing no simple, clean, unoccupied space. Around the room, there are similar aliens dotted around, sitting at desks and gazing at monitors, with a few looking over at him.

Before the alien can react, you close your eyes and reach out with a clawing hand that snaps forward as you send a wave of psychic power which travels into the mind of the startled creature. His mind is hard and rigid, a steel fortress barred by faith and devotion. It doesn’t yield, so you push on, violently probing into his skull, trying to find the keys to the castle. But like the doors guarding the room, his resolve remains strong and unbroken. Fear spurs you on, and instead of looking for a weakness to exploit or a secret entrance, you call your might and attack with the force of a battering ram which brutally punches through his defences. He is broken, and yours to do with what you wish.

As you take control of the alien a flash of images appear within your mind. You see his world, primitive and backwards, still using archaic stone tools. Then, from the clouds, a vessel descends with a slow grace, gleaming gold in the warm summer’s sun. From the craft appear your gods, large fat worm-like creatures with their angels of battle surrounding them. They take you and a few dozen of the other honoured chosen to come to this vault of the gods to protect their riches for the rest of your life. Each morning, you zealously chant your prayers to your gods for this role and all they do for you people, for being wise enough to see you are their truest, most devoted servant.

Blood spills from the alien’s nose as you move him like a marionette; with a push of a button, the door opens, and you release your control. The alien you were puppeteering slumps as you let go, falling face first into his controls. Before the doors are fully open, you dive through the opening, empowered by the Force you push through your veins, turning yourself into a blur of speed. Before the first of the alien’s comrades can reach their slumped friend, you are in the room with them. In each hand is a bar of blazing blue plasma that hums with murderous intent. Before they are able to radio for help or scream in fear, they are dead. They are all dead. Severed necks, circular holes and cleaved torsos glow from the heat of your blades, displaying the killing wounds you inflicted upon them.

Turning around, you greet the scuffling of feet originating from your friends. Jaina runs over to one of the consoles and withdraws a datajack from her robes, summarily jabbing it into the controls and letting the virus spread from the brain of the space station to every single minute component. All doors lock, and all comm systems die; the only exception is if they provide the code locked within your datajack. This station is silent, dead to the outside, no one will be able to call in distress to alert the wider world of what is taking place. You have succeeded in your mission.

On one of the viewscreens, you find the room holding all the ancient prisoners trapped in stasis, they flop to the floor weakly twitching like a fish left out in the harsh sun. You know you can’t save them; the ship taking you free of here does not have the required life support systems to keep so many beings alive. But at least their last hours will be some small measure of freedom before your bomb explodes and annihilates all traces of them ever existing. You let out a sad sigh, wishing you could do better for them and heal them of the crimes inflicted upon them.

“We’ve done it,” Alyla wraps you in a hug, incredulous at your success and how easy it has been, ignoring the massive amount of credits it took to get here.

“What next Master?” You say with false deference as you give her a squeeze of exhilarated joy. “What are we wanting to take from this place before we blow it up?”

“I think I would look nice in a good crown,” Alyla replies in a jovial tone.

Morrigan interrupts the celebration you are all feeling, pointing at a screen, “This doesn't look good.”

Walking over to the screen, Morrigan stands by, and you see more of these aliens utterly furious and with pure hate in their eyes. They cradle blasters in their hands and lug their tools to the sealed doors, using them to slice through the now-locked passageways. Like a disturbed hornet’s nest, all you see is movement from angry drones determined to save their hive. A wave of these aliens is swelling, ready to break upon the intruders.

Jaina questions, “We need to make our way back to the ship now. I will seal the room, which should give us more time before they can retake control of the vault. I’ll order the bomb to be placed in the heart of the vaults. What should the loaders put in the empty containers?”

You fill the containers with…
(Roll three d20 for combat please.)
>Precious materials
>Credit chits
>Dataslates holding scientific research
>A bit of everything
>Write-in

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>5997611
Hmm.

>50/50 split of Science research and Credit chits
Be best if the research is focused on Hutt tech. But I think the credit Chits are worth more per weight than the precious materials. It'll recoup our losses and then some.

>>5997632
>Bury the Light plays increasingly loudly in the distance.

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>5997611
>Precious materials
It may be a bumpy ride, this would be the least fragile

>>5997632
nice roll! this subjugated primitive race won't know what hit them!

btw Stumbling you are based for continuing to run this quest for so long. much appreciated.

>>5997641
They will be free and safe when the hutts are dead.

Guilt isnt something one considers when liberating an empire. But this act does bring a frown to my face.

>>5997632
Damn thats a good roll, certainly changes things.
>>5997656
Thanks, just hope you are enjoying it. That being said I'm still not in the right headspace and I want a break from writing. When I come back I will likely try a writing something else for a oneshot.

>>5998112
Ha, "this is the point where you are meant to lose a named character to establish stakes and the nature of sacrifice"

>20 says no.

>>5998112
Just to be clear, you're taking a break right now?

>>5998268
Was certainly considering it.
>>5998286
After this thread.

>A bit of everything
That way we may stumble upon mystery box prizes

I've got a big presentation on Friday and I'm working overtime to get it perfect. This means I have no mental capacity for writing, so the next update will likey be Friday.

>>5998594
Hope it went well, if you need more time let us know

>>6000673
Thanks, yeah im not going to update tonight. Im just fatigued from all the energy I spent on it and want to go to sleep a normal time. I will update tomorrow.

Stumbling

“Credit chits and any interesting dataslates,” Your voice loud and authoritative. The onrushing hoard stirs the heart in your chest, placing you into the commanding aspect of leadership. “Tell them to do it quickly. It is more important that we are ready to go when we arrive than the amount of stuff they can ram the containers with.”

Master Jaina communicates your words through her commlink with fast, dexterous fingers. Watching her send commands through the interface, a question comes to your mind, which you speak aloud, “Where’s the bomb? Is it in place?”

“It's on its way; let's go.” With the completion of her words, she pockets the device and activates her Lightsaber that rushes to life with a hum and glows in an impressive verdant green.

Breaking into a fast stride, you run through the facility buried within the moon. Morrigan, the smallest of your fivesome, is the slowest, her small legs struggle to keep pace with the rest of you. Instead of speeding ahead or ignoring her strain to match your speed, you slow down to her swiftness, not wanting her to use Force speed to keep up with you, as that’d burn her out before any combat has commenced. Your young apprentice wears none of the worry that plagues Master Alyla’s or Jaina’s face. You find pride and amusement in Morrigan’s ability to allow fear to roll off her like water from a duck’s back.

Turning a corridor, a hail of red plasma explodes into view. The reflective walls that shine with a golden hue are replaced by the crimson of the torrent of blaster bolts streaming towards you. Without thought, your body reflexively brings your Lightsabers to bear, carving through the surging wave of blaster bolts. The narrow hallway is utter madness; death surrounds you, waiting for the slightest flaw in a parry or a misplaced step. Your decades of training combined with your trust in the Force naturally guide your hands in a flowing motion to be in the exact place they need to be. You cannot trust your eyes or your brain with guiding your Lightsabers; there are simply too many rounds being flung at you and your party. Partially stepping in front of Morrigan, you battle the shots that would end your young apprentice.

The wall of backwards aliens uplifted from their primitive barbarous world clutch their blasters with religious zeal, trying to hose your party with a wall of burning death. But no shot strikes true; the Force is with you. As the shots are wildly reflected, some return to their send, striking them, leaving deep, blackened, burnt holes in their bodies. Your eyes catch something strapped to one of the lizardman’s belt, a small sphere of polished silver with a single switch. While you fight against the stream of fire, you reach out with the Force and slide the switch down, exposing a light that glows a fierce red. None of them notice the activated grenade and continue to shoot at you and your party to no success. After a few seconds, a shockwave slaps into your naked face, causing you to shirk back. When you return your view to the site of the explosion, you see a crater in the corridor and a few scraps of broken bodies; the majority of the platoon is simply eviscerated. Only a few limbs blasted clear remain, as does the blood that slicks the walls.

Reaching the hall, recording the Hutts' many victories over outnumbered and outgunned foes, you have carved your way through multiple parties trying to block you and your comrades. All of you are intact and unharmed. You are ever so proud of Morrigan, she has done amazingly well to keep up and not falter under this advanced test. Despite the exhaustion creeping into her visage, she still wears a grin of proud joy and triumph, looking at you, waiting for you to shower her with praise. That will come later after you are free of this place. The room is still clouded in darkness that clings to every surface, burying them in its gloom.

A chill runs down your spine, an encoded message from the Force. It doesn’t tell you what is wrong, but there is something you must guard against. Swivelling your head, you try to see something, anything within this room that might be the source of this wrongness. A figure leaps from a perch in the shadows like a great feline predator pouncing upon its prey; a bar of hissing red light slices through the darkness around him. Reactively, an outstretched hand points towards the figure diving at you, as if he were a hawk swooping down onto his prey. Flicking your arm downwards with a violent snap, the figure’s flight rapidly changes, slamming straight down into the hard marble floor headfirst as if controlled by a giant invisible hand. Bones shatter under the violent impact as the humanoid is flattened against the rock, he does not look dissimilar to an animal stuck by an ancient, wheeled lorry. His head explodes into a shower of blood and bone, with his torso being shattered and deformed. That was a rather ignominious death for someone given the great responsibility of being the sole Force user guarding the most precious of installations.

Eventually, you make it back to the room holding the elevator that leads up to the hangars. “Is everything ready?”

Jaina, your middleman communicator to the droids, replies, “Everything is ready and waiting for us.”

This time, when travelling on the elevator, you are not within the coffin-shaped stasis tubes but standing outside the cargo containers, waiting for the doors to slide open into the hangar. As soon as they do, you and your comrades leap into the room, butchering the hapless engineers dumbfounded by your appearance from nowhere. Loader droids shovel the cargo into the empty hull as you carve your way into the crew compartment from the cargo hull, and remove the cowering pilots, taking control of the vessel. As the last container is put aboard that ship, Alyla brings the vessel to life as a group of aliens break into the hangar with a puff of smoke from the explosion. Their blasters pointlessly strike the ship, doing no damage other than blackening the paintwork as you exit the moon-turned-vault.

The Golden Barge travels to the Kula that escorted the ship in system, acting as if there is nothing unusual going on at all. All the while, you and the other Jedi are praying that the station is still battling the virus uploaded to the control centre and are unable to send out any form of communication signal. Each minute seems to take hours, and the hours feel as if they are endless days, yet you leave the system without a suspicious eye. As soon as you enter hyperspace, the antimatter bomb detonates. A soundless wall of annihilation expands out of the massive device. The reinforced structure is nothing to the wave of utter destruction that atomises everything in its path. The explosion reaches the edges of its limits and carves through to the surface, leaving a huge crater in the moon where once countless riches were safely stored.

Travelling alongside the Star Destroyer sized vessel, you pass from the densely populated regions into the wilder frontier, thankfully outrunning the reports of your action. Finally, you arrive at a small backwater. The massive ship holding thousands of crew notice the sparsely populated void with a few dozen ships, but do not take any special note of a small personal starfighter. What is one small ship among the thousands they see every day? Then there is another one, and another one and another, roughly seventy in total. All spread out at different locations, not in a formation, leaving the crew that read the consoles displaying the ships sensors confused but unalarmed. That changes when every single starship turn in unison towards the Krula. Like a hive of hornets, they race to the object that disturbed their rest.

Automated turrets fire off repeating volleys of anti-fighter rounds at the approaching swarm, but the Jedi, piloting their ships, weave between them with almost contemptible ease. Concussion missiles unload from the fighters, coating the shield in explosive blasts, striking the shields that flicker in prismatic brilliance. Struggling to survive against the barrage of strikes, the shield flickers and falters, disappearing into nothingness. The fighters strafe the massive vessel, crippling the behemoth under the sustained fire. The Krula’s wings are clipped, but it is not dead; it drifts on, damaged and defeated but not lifeless. It would take too long to kill such a beast. But you are free from the monster guarding you, ready to travel home with your Jedi allies sitting within the cockpits of their starfighters.

Ok thatsthe thread done and archived. Sorry about being so shit, lot of sutff going on my end none of it good. Pretty sure me and most my team are getting made redudant tomrrow.

Thanks for reading and suffering through my bitching. I'm taking a bit of a break, not sure how long but it'll be a while.

Let me know what you thought I could do better, apart from the whole external stuff ruining my drive and schedule, and what you liked.

Anonymous

>>6004024
Thanks for writing all this. You've always been willing to roll with our write-in votes which makes our participation more meaningful. This whole heist was fun. Hope things get better on your end soon, we'll be here waiting and ready until they do. I'm anxious to see the galactic response and to see the war truly begin.

>>6004024
That was fucking rad dude, thanks for your time & writing. I'm curious about the Sith(?) that we pancaked, but I guess some things shall remain a mystery. Really like the details of the heist, the Hutt use of a species who worship them fanatically, etc. I saw how Alyla was still making subtle moves on the protag... I'm hoping things improve for you.

>>6004024
Thanks for running pal.

>>6004577
He was a disciple of the singularity. He deserved no better

>>6004039
>You've always been willing to roll with our write-in votes which makes our participation more meaningful.
Quests are communal stories, I'm just glad you are enjoying participating and adding to it.
>>6004577
>I'm curious about the Sith(?) that we pancaked
He is a member of the Singularity, part of their priestly class named Dark Star. They oversee the ritual sacrifice of their followers and steal their lifeforce for the singularity in the Force they wish to create. You can read more about them in thread 4 of Stellar Turmoil and they feature in the intro of thread 3. He was a very strong opponent, testing your skills, the plan was for him to kill Jaina in his surprise attack but that 20 said no. I decided that I don't want any living Sith in the quest, the Sith have lost so many times over the thousands of years I think it'd be more interesting if they were replaced by a new darkside group of supposedly altruistic utopian collectivists.

>>6005671
Fuckin' oath, thanks for running