The Lofor Chronicles

Shootout at the Qexes Saloon

2007-11-26T19:09:00.000-05:00

In the morning we made some repairs to the ship and then headed into the nearby town at about midday. The likeliest place we could find for food and information was a cantina called the Qexes Saloon. It was a fairly small, dim place just off the main thoroughfare through town.

We had just sat down to enjoy a few drinks when a woman hurried into the bar from the street, looking anxious and moving quickly. She moved toward the back of the place, where we happened to be sitting, and slid into a dark booth next to us. She turned off the lamp on the wall and her face was fairly well concealed in the dim light.

Almost immediately afterward, two roguish looking beings burst through the door after her - a Trandoshan and a Klaatuian. They stopped just inside the door and looked around, murmuring to each other.

After exchanging a few confirming glances with each other, the three of us quickly picked up our drinks and moved to sit with the girl, who was quite obviously in distress. Shakalakahh's massive form effectively hid her from view while Ronin and I sat opposite.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"Just keep sitting there, big guy," she said, "and it'll be just fine." She peered around Shakalakahh's arm cautiously. The two thugs walked away toward the opposite side of the bar, slowly examining the tables and booths, and the young woman seemed to relax somewhat. "The name's Tosh," she said, "Rensi Tosh."

After Ronin and I introduced ourselves and the Wookiee, Rensi explained her situation to us in hushed, hurried tones. She had traveled here in her ship, which had crashed a good distance outside of town. While attempting to travel overland into town, she ran afoul of some of the criminal element and was captured. As her captors had no particular reason to keep her and were also not particularly intelligent, she managed to escape soon enough. She surmised that the two fellows snooping around the bar were trying to track her down.

"Can you help me get back to my ship?" she asked us.

Before we had a chance to answer, the two goons were suddenly standing next to our table. They both pulled blasters, which they leveled at us, and spoke in gruff tones.
"Hand over woman!" the Trandoshan squawked in a crude imitation of the common tongue.

Shakalakahh reacted without warning, standing up and roaring fiercely. Such was the power of his cry and the enormity of his size that the pair of thugs were caught off guard. They both reeled backward, giving Rensi enough time to slide out of the booth from behind the Wookiee. She had a blaster in her hand and before I knew what was happening, there was a blast and the bright streak of plasma fire.

From a concealed pocket, I produced my little hold-out blaster. Training it on the thug nearest me, I fired a shot. By that time, Shakalakahh had managed to knock the other one to the floor with brute force. He appeared to be unconscious. My shot missed, but it was enough to send the thug running for the door. In an instant, he was out of our sight and the bar was quiet again.

Ronin quickly dug through the downed thug's pockets, coming up with some metal keys, a few loose credits and a power pack. He pocketed them and we made a hasty retreat.

To Ord Mantell

2007-11-24T09:11:00.000-05:00

"All I'm saying, Ronin, is that you play like a child."

Sleek grinned at me from the other side of the table. "Exactly. That's why you can't beat me."

As exasperating as it was to admit, the scoundrel had a point. He wasn't entirely undefeated, but at 20 games of Sabaac to my 3, his advantage was clear. Either his strategy was iron-clad, or he was cheating. Knowing Ronin, I expected the truth was somewhere in between.

Just then, Shakalakahh's growl sounded over the ship's intercom. We were coming up on our destination. Ronin and I rose and joined him in the cockpit of the Corellian Hawk.

Outside the front viewports floated the planet of Ord Mantell, its two moons hanging silently nearby. Shortly after departing Yormban Prime, we had dropped out of hyperspace briefly to change course. We had headed for Corellia, to throw any potential followers off our trail, and had then set a course for the Bright Jewel system more or less at a whim. We'd all heard that it was an interesting place to visit, but none of us had ever been there.

We put down just outside a small town, choosing to try to remain inconspicuous rather than draw attention to ourselves by setting down in a starport, which would immediately put us on the grid. It would mean some extra hassle for the repairs we had to make, but we decided the effort would be worth our protection.

The region we found ourselves in was a desert, spotted with odd rock formations and seemingly unending expanses of sand. It was late at night, and the temperature was well below the freezing point of water. We decided to rest for the night and venture into town the next day, to see what we could see.

Anywhere but Corellia

2007-09-25T21:39:00.000-04:00

"Ronin, where's the Wookiee?" I said hastily into my comlink.

Ronin's voice chirped back at me. "He's up top, why?"

"You mean on the roof?"

"That would be the hull. Yes. He's working on the power routers."

As forcefully as I could manage, I replied, "Make sure he stays there. Imperials."

Sure enough, at that moment a group of Imperial stormtroopers burst through the hangar door, followed closely by an officer, a lieutenant by the look of him. They moved a few meters into the hangar, then took up a formation that gave them covering positions on the hangar exits.

The officer took two troopers with him and headed for our ship.

"Lofor, they're boarding," Ronin's voice squawked at me from the comlink. "Where are you?"

"I'm in the cockpit," I replied.

"Well," he said, "You're the schmoozer. Get to the gangway and start schmoozing. We're not hiding anything; this should be quick."

"Where are you?" I said, getting up and heading for the rear of the ship.

"I'm up top with Shaks. Hurry up, I don't want to be horizontal next to this smelly carpet for any longer than I have to." There was a quiet growl that cut off as Ronin's transmission ended. I switched the comlink to mute just as I came into the main compartment above the gangway.

The lieutenant and the two troopers were already in the ship. The lieutenant motioned to one of them, and the pair split in opposite directions. They began moving slowly around the perimeter of the room, obviously searching. For what, I wasn't sure.

Thoughts about the previous owner of this ship and the things he might have stowed away in it flashed through my mind. I forced them away as quickly as I could.

"Afternoon, Lieutenant," I said. "I see you found your own way in."

He sneered back at me. "I'd hold your tongue if I were you. Associates of Jorkat the Render are not highly regarded these days."

"That's a bit of a stretch," I said as nonchalantly as I could. "We only just met him a few hours ago."

The officer pointed a finger at me. "For your sake, that had better not be a lie. Jorkat has been nothing but trouble lately, and-" He stopped himself, hearing more footsteps on the gangway. We both turned to look.

Walking up the ramp, ahead of six more troopers, was a man dressed entirely in black armor. The only part of his body not covered was his head, which sported a long mane of jet-black hair and steely, cold eyes. A cape flowed behind him.

Immediately upon seeing him, I felt cold. This confused me, but I did my best to ignore it.

The man stopped just short of the lieutenant, who had snapped to attention, and then barked an order to the troopers. "Search it," he said sternly, "thoroughly." Then with his eyes on me, he told the lieutenant, "That will be all."

"Yes, Lord Cath," the officer said. Obediently, he headed down the gangway.

He looked me over slowly, saying nothing. Finally, he spoke. "What is your name?"

I sensed that deception might get us into even worse trouble. "Lofor," I told him.

"Where are you from?"

"Well," I said, "That's sort of a difficult question. Originally, I'm from Rori." I ventured a question, hoping my cooperative gestures would cause him to allow it. "Who might you be, if I may ask?"

"My name is Maxon Cath," he answered. "Have you been in contact with anyone matching this description?" He showed me a datapad with what appeared to be a composite image on its display. I looked at it, but did not recognize the person. I told Cath as much.

"He is a rebel spy," Cath said gruffly, "We are hunting down the lot of them. If you were to provide information on them, there would be a reward. There are bounties on the lot of their heads."

I shrugged. "Wish I could help you," I said.

He looked me over again, then said, "What is your next port of call?"

"Corellia," I said, citing the first planet that came to mind.

Just then the troopers returned from their search.

"It's clean, sir," one said. "There's no sign of them."

"Very well," said Cath. "I would advise you to depart immediately," he said to me. "Things are about to get very bad for Jorkat the Render."

"Right," I said, "We'll be out of his hangar directly. No reason to hang about anyhow."

"Goodbye," he said. A strange thing for an Imperial Lord to say to a common denizen, it occurred to me later. But I wasn't about to press my luck.

"Ronin," I said into my comlink as soon as Cath and his troopers were gone, "Get inside and get us out of here."

"Uh, okay," came his reply. "Where to?"

"Anywhere," I said, "but Corellia."

What a Piece of...

2007-09-22T12:19:00.000-04:00

The phoenetics of Shakalakaah's disdainful roar would be difficult to reproduce here. Suffice it to say, his meaning was clear enough. And I wholeheartedly agreed.

"Are we really going to try to fly that thing?" I said to Ronin. "It looks like...well, junk."

Ronin shrugged. "I don't see as we have much choice," he answered.

The ship appeared to be a freighter, some variant of the standard YT series. It had obviously been altered to a significant degree from its original configuration. Whether some of those alterations were intentional or unintentional was not entirely clear. The ship had obviously been through a lot. Some parts of the hull seemed to be outright damaged.

"I know a thing or two about flying" Ronin said. "Let's not judge until we get inside the thing and see what's what."

Unfortunately, the inside of the ship wasn't much of an improvement. Apart from the rather unpleasant state of general disrepair and neglect (we even saw what appeared to be Bith undergarments discarded in one corner), Ronin soon discovered that the operational systems needed some work. Checking the main computer revealed that one of the internal stabilizers was bad and the hyperdrive was faulty. It would run, Ronin said, but only on its backup function, which meant we wouldn't be getting anywhere in a hurry.

"But she can fly?" I asked.

Ronin nodded, looking at Shakalakaah, who agreed. "I'll have to mend that stabilizer first," he said, "But she'll fly."

Leaving them to it, with instructions to hail me if they needed my help (which would be, admittedly, limited when it came to mechanics), I had a look around the ship.

For the most part, the interior seemed to be standard build for a YT freighter. A few partition walls had been removed to make room for extra cargo. A secret compartment in the captain's quarters had been fortuitously left open. While it was empty now, I noted its presence, as such a thing could easily come in handy.

I returned to the cockpit, intending to learn what I could about the vessel's history from its computer records. As soon as I sat down, though, I saw something that made me forget all about it.

"Ronin," I said hastily into my comlink, "Something's up."

Through the windows of the cockpit, I saw a small, greenish being running into the hangar, flailing his arms wildly and wailing in what sounded like Rodese. I knew very little of this language, but there's one word that seems to be universally understood:

"Empire!"

A Bad Feeling; A Worse Deal

2007-06-13T18:57:00.000-04:00

To steel ourselves before returning to visit Mr. The Render, we made a stop to a local cantina, a place called "The Hold-Out Saloon." An exciting name that proved less than appropriate for what turned out to be little more than a self-service bar. A deserted one, at that. Not even a bartender on to which we could dispense our woes.

We retrieved our drinks from the dispenser and sat down around a table in the corner. There was little conversation. We were tired, essentially stranded and not altogether looking forward to dealing with a crime lord for the second time that day. It's not that any of us were champions of virtue; quite the contrary. I think Ronin Sleek and Shakalakahh have seen their fair share of entanglements. But the simple fact of Render's status required that we be constantly on our guard, on the lookout for tricks and traps. The stress, added to Render's unpleasant disposition, did not make for a pleasant experience.

I suppose it was these thoughts that led me to have the feeling. I wasn't sure what else it could be at the time.

All I knew is that as we were sitting there, each of us lost in our own thoughts, I began to develop a very bad feeling. It came from the core of my being and radiated outward, affecting every pore and hair on my body. It was a distinct feeling of unease. I felt like a troop of soldiers had just walked into the room, each of them carrying blasters pointed directly at me. I even looked around to see if anyone had, in fact, walked in. But we were alone, as ever.

Before long, Sleek threw back the last of his drink and muttered, "Alright, let's get this over with." We left the cantina. I wondered if we might leave my uneasiness behind, as well, but it followed me, to my dismay. There was definitely something wrong. Without knowing what, though, I was reluctant to say anything to the others.

Then, however, we passed by a viewport to the outside of the station. To our surprise, we saw three Star Destroyers very close by, hanging in space in a tight formation. I felt a moment of relief, as I now realized that my uneasy feeling was not imagined. Somehow, I had known that the Empire had arrived. My thoughts flashed briefly to my days at Aurillia.

We found our way back to the turbolift leading to Jorkat the Render's palatial suite. A few words from Ronin Sleek got us past his guards. And before long, we were before him, for the second time that day.

"The long and the short of it, Jorkat," said Ronin, "is that we need a ship."

Jorkat laughed. "As if I had ships to spare, Sleek. Besides, haven't you seen our neighbors?" He motioned at a nearby viewport, where one of the newly arrived Star Destroyers could be seen. "There will be no ships leaving this station. Not today, anyway."

"So it's a blockade?" Shakalakahh growled.

"Of course it's a blockade, you hairy beast," answered Jorkat, who apparently understood Shirywook. "Three Star Destroyers is a little much for a routine trade inspection, wouldn't you say?" His voice was thin and raspy.

"Look," said Ronin, "Let's save the games for another day. I know you've got ships, you just don't think we've got anything worth trading. Well, I can tell you, we do."

The Render scratched his chin. "I'm listening," he hissed.

Ronin proceeded to explain that he and the Wookiee had in their possession an additional amount of the substance they had recently been commissioned to obtain for Jorkat, some unique compound that was apparently a cure for an illness that he had. I was not party to this mission, so the details were somewhat unclear to me. But it appeared that the pair had held an "ace up their sleeve" after delivering the mission's prize.

"You held out on me, Sleek," growled Jorkat the Render after hearing this information.

Ronin shook his head. "No, I held out on those saps we came back with. I had to make sure I didn't get screwed over. They could have taken my share and bolted."

Jorkat scowled, but appeared to accept this. "How much do you have?" he asked.

Sleek nodded at Shakalakahh, who produced a container. It appeared to hold about a liter or so of a bright, shining liquid. "Enough for you to synthesize," said Ronin, "And to then sell. It could make you a lot of money, if this stuff is as rare as you say."

Jorkat considered, eyeing us over. "Well," he said finally, "I do happen to have a ship in hangar now that isn't being used. It's here for repairs. I suppose we could work something out for it. The compound, say, plus twenty thousand credits?"

Inside, I winced. I had a feeling we were being taken. But there was little choice.

"Fifteen," said Ronin, "and launch codes to get us past the blockade."

Jorkat laughed. But he eyed the canister with a greedy squint. "You drive a hard bargain, Sleek. For seventeen, she's yours. I can't give you launch codes, because I don't have them myself. But I can get you past the blockade. I have an understanding with the Imperial governor of this station."

"Fair enough," said Ronin, and just like that we had purchased a ship we had never seen, which was reported to be damaged, for the price of a canister of compound that was probably worth untold riches to the right person.

Desperate times, as the saying goes, call for desperate measures.

We headed for the hangar to inspect our purchase.

Shipless

2007-06-06T20:42:00.000-04:00

To relate everything that has happened since my last entry here and the present day would probably take an eternity, and certainly more energy than I have to spare. There are motions underway now that are more important, as well, that much is clear. I must focus my efforts on recording what I observe of my current situation; only then will I be able to understand it later. The events in between, while tumultuous, do not carry the same weight of destiny. And understanding the forces of my destiny is all that holds my interest.

How to summarize? I found myself, as the direct consequence of several misadventures, on a colossal space station orbiting Yormban Prime. I had never seen such a place before; once several individual stations, this one had been combined and connected over many decades until it now stretches a full quarter of the way around the circumference of the planet below. The station is home to 300 million people. It is truly an awe-inspiring place.

Sunrise behind Yormban Prime

I was, and indeed still am, in the company of a human named Ronin Sleek and a Wookiee named something that sounds like "Shakalakahh." I asked Sleek how it is written properly, but he doesn't seem the type to pay attention to such things.

The pair had a delivery to make to Jorkat the Render, a crimelord of ill repute (is there any other kind?) who made his headquarters at the station. Having joined the group only recently, I was only partially informed of what was going on. Some credits were exchanged, some acquaintances of Sleek departed, and the three of us were on our own in Yormban Prime Station.

Shipless.

I couldn't remember the last time I was without a ship. It must have been during my early days on Tatooine, but that seems like another lifetime now. You don't realize the truly life-sustaining nature that a simple starship can take on until you find yourself without one.

Yormban Prime Station did not prove to have very good prospects for finding a ship, either. The three of us had some credits all together, but short of hiring a privateer and his own ship and crew, there was almost nothing to be found. The only ship we could find for sale was a barely-functional ARC-170, in which we theoretically could have fit (though the Wookiee would have found it a tight squeeze). But that ship was essentially a snub fighter; we needed a transport more than anything, something for the long haul. And something that was ours.

Eventually, with reluctance, we decided there was nothing to be done but to return to Jorkat the Render (or "Mr. The Render" as Shakalakahh is fond of jokingly calling him). We had no connections in this place save him, and he happened to be the one person on the station who was truly connected. It seemed we had no choice, though the prospect of dealing with such an unpleasant character appealed to none of us.

Rescue

2005-03-30T10:50:00.000-05:00

The villager looked up at me in awe. Her two children cowered behind her, peering out from behind the folds of her cloak. I heard the two Sith expell the last of their breath from their lungs on the ground behind me. I hooked my vibroknuckler on my belt and knelt down before the frightened family.

"My name is Maast Lofor," I said, "I'm here to rescue you."

It was the fifth such group that I had discovered that week. Rohak had wasted no time in putting me to work for the Aurillians, and had sent me off with Whip to organize a plan for locating several villagers who had been captured by the Sith.

Whip's information was sketchy at best, but it was enough to provide a vague picture of what had happened. During the assault, several groups of villagers had been seen being led away from Aurillia with Sith escorts, presumably for their own nefarious purposes. Their headings had been noted and scouts had reported signs of their movement a few days later, but there was no more detailed information as to their locations. It would be up to me to find them.

I had a fully fueled speederbike with me, a machine that seemed completely alien to the Aurillians. I could travel much faster than even their fastest scouts, so I volunteered to head up the search. I stored the information we had in my datapad and set out.

It didn't take me long to locate the first group. For some inexplicable reason, the Sith were holding them less than five kilometers from the village. It seemed that there was clearly a greater plan at work here, but how this piece fit into it, I could not guess.

Nevertheless, the guards posted with the stolen villagers were weak and ill-trained, and quickly dispatched. Over the course of a week I was able to locate all five of the missing groups and lead them back to Aurillia in safety.

It was a small thing, really, in light of the brutal destruction the village had faced as a whole. But having those five groups of Aurillians back meant a lot to the community. It seemed to give them a small measure of hope, and for that I was grateful.

Rohak expressed his own gratitude to me by giving me a statue that was crafted by Aurillian artisans and represented their village. It was a beautiful piece of art, though getting the five-foot high piece of granite home on the bike seemed like it would be a challenge in and of itself.

Then I was offered the true reward: knowledge.

From the unlikeliest of places came a wealth of information. It turned out that Whip, the small, unassuming man who was the first Aurillian I met, was something of a specialist in survival skills. These were not everyday survival skills, either. As an Aurillian, Whip was Force sensitive, and knew how to manipulate and channel the Force to enhance certain skills. He demonstrated to me his uncanny skills at things like maneuvering difficult terrain (he could move up nearly vertical cliff faces with ease and virtually walk on water over short distances) and interacting or avoiding indigent animal life (I watched him, with my own eyes, mask his own scent and presence and walk into the middle of a pack of hungry Rancors, just to tap one on the nose).

For the next several weeks, I spent all of my time with Whip, learning to survive. My knowledge of the Force grew.

The Aurillian Cycle

2005-03-22T15:19:00.000-05:00

Understanding the story of Aurillia requires something of a shift in perception, especially when it comes to the understanding of the passage of time.

For most, the passage of time is a linear experience, with a past, present and future. The present becomes the past and the future passes into the present. There are beginnings and ends, clearly defined phases of time. Those who experience time this way are able to understand finality, completion, closure. Moreover, they can perceive of new experiences, completely unique temporal events that have not yet occurred in their memory.

Aurillians see time in a much different way. In Aurillia, time is cyclic. There is some unknown element that causes time to behave differently in this singular region on Dathomir. Whether this element is the mist surrounding the village, or some other, unseen influence, I do not know, nor could anyone tell me. In fact, when I tried to discuss it with the villagers, they looked at me as if I was speaking a foreign language. I quickly learned to accept this anomaly as simple fact so that I could continue to interact with them.

This made for some difficult mental exercises on my part, as there was no telling what day or time it would be when I emerged again from the mist. Whenever I went to Aurillia, I traveled between two timesets playing by completely different rules.

As you might understand, it is just as difficult for a person accustomed to linear time to understand the cyclic conception of time. I will do my best to relate it in comprehensible terms.

Aurillia is centered on a concentration in the Force. This is perhaps the most likely reason for the temporal inconsistencies in the area. There is no record of why this concentration exists, or what purpose it serves. The Aurillians know that it exists, as they are sensitive to the Force. They channel it for their purposes, which primarily consist of perpetual defense against the Force-sensitive Sith.

The Sith, at least the faction of that group that concerns Aurillia, are a group of Force-sensitive fanatics aligned with the Dark Side of the Force. They seek to exploit the Force for their own gain and for the acquisition of power.

The Sith know of Aurillia, and know of its connection with the Force. They seek to conquer the village stronghold and capture control of the concentration focused there. Because of this, the Aurillian elders maintain the mist surrounding the village. It prevents those from entering who are not sensitive to the Force, as well as blocks the movements of those aligned with the Dark Side. It is a powerful barrier, but not one that cannot be overcome. With sufficient numbers and consolidated power, the Sith can penetrate the mist and attack the village.

You may notice that I speak of everything here in the present tense. That is because in Aurillia, there exists only the present. This is the closest approximation of cyclic time that I can present in linear terminology. If the village were in a space governed by linear time, I would say that everything that happens in Aurillia has happened already in the past, and will happen again in the future. As it is, the village follows cyclic time, and the events there are in a perpetual state of occurring.

The cycle of events roughly follows this progression:
The Sith ready their forces, combine their efforts and assault Aurillia in a large-scale effort.
The Aurillian defense prevails, but only barely.
Aurillia is nearly destroyed during the attack and must rebuild completely.
The Aurillians train their citizens in the Force for defense against the Sith.
The Sith attempt periodic strikes in small groups, without success.
The Sith ready their forces, combine their efforts and assault Aurillia in a large-scale effort...

This is the tenuous cycle that prevails in Aurillia. It is unknown how long it has existed in linear time. For indeed, it does not exist at all in linear time. It is a cycle unto itself, governed only by the mysterious laws of the Force.

The story Rohak told me, of course, was separate from the linear perspective, and consequently rather different from what I have related here. It took me a long time to grasp what was actually going on in the village.

Rohak had never heard of the Jedi. He knew nothing of the old Jedi council, much like the Twi'lek I met on Dantooine, named K'te. Indeed, none of the Aurillians knew much of anything at all about life outside of their village, much less on planets other than Dathomir.

Yet they were skilled in the use of the Force (though they had no similar name for it). They practiced these skills to prepare in their defense against the Sith. They did not weild lightsabers, but they were proficient at manipulating the Force in ways far beyond what I was capable of. They accepted their Force skills as natural abilities that needed honing like any other trait. Aurillia, then, was a sect of people very grounded in the living Force, yet completely outside of Jedi lore.

"You passed through the mist," Rohak told me, "This tells me that you are cunning. You say that you defeated several Sith by your own hand. If this is true, this tells me that you are true of heart, as well."

"It is true," I answered.

"If you are willing to prove your integrity to us," the elder continued, "We will train you to better your skills. In return we ask only that you use those skills to aid our defense."

It dawned on me quickly what was taking place. Rohak was recruiting me to the Aurillian effort to repel the Sith. More importantly, though, he was offering me training.

Force training.

With the Jedi all but extinct and the only known heir to their lore deeply entrenched in the war to defeat the Empire, it seemed that Aurillia was the last outpost of Force knowledge in the Galaxy. I was certain my Path had led me here purposefully, and doubted that another such opportunity would present itself again.

Solemnly, I nodded to Rohak. "I will do whatever I can to help you. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn."

Rohak nodded back to me. "Such is the way it shall be, Maast Lofor. You shall reinforce our struggle, while we strengthen you. Together, we shall overcome all odds."

Thus began my training in Aurillia.

Rohak

2005-03-18T23:34:00.000-05:00

Whip led me into the village of Aurillia, past smouldering, ruined buildings, the wreckage of all manners of structures. I sensed fear and anguish all around. The voices I heard all around me were filled with dispair. Horror had been visited on Aurillia, and its touch still lingered.

To the center of the village we walked, until we reached what appeared to be a central meeting area. An elderly man stood speaking to a soldier dressed in battle-worn armor. Whip approached the older man and said a few words, then beckoned me over.

"This is Rohak," Whip said, "He is the Elder of Aurillia."

I bowed my head. "I am honored," I said.

"Whip tells me that you survived a Sith attack," Rohak said. His voice crackled with age.

I nodded, then briefly recounted my tale of meeting the mysterious old man, and the subsequent Sith ambush. I showed Rohak the crystal that the old man had given me. He examined it silently, then looked at the soldier next to him with a raised eyebrow.

"This is Captain Sarguillo," Rohak said finally. "He will show you to a place where you can rest. You've had a long journey, I'm sure you're tired. Rest, and we will speak again later."

With that, Rohak nodded to the soldier Captain Sarguillo, then turned and headed off into the village.

The Captain brought me to a small hut at the edge of the meeting area. There was a small cot inside. He motioned to it, then departed, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I did not think I was very tired at first, as I had only journeyed a few kilometers from my camp that day. Nevertheless, after a few minutes I felt the weariness of the whole journey on Dathomir wearing on me, and I dozed off into sleepy blackness.

Sometime after the fall of night, I was awakened by Whip and led to see Rohak once more.

For the next several hours, I learned the story of Aurillia.

The Village

2005-03-16T20:28:00.000-05:00

It is a strange sensation, suddenly encountering something that you did not know was there. It is something akin to falling from a great height with no sense of how far you are from the ground. That was the sensation that ran through my body when I crossed through the mist.

The mist.

The mist that was not there, yet was everywhere. From a distance I saw only a barren, empty plain. Yet after only a few hundred meters of driving from the edge of the tangled Dathomirian forest, I was suddenly engulfed in a deep blue fog, so thick that it eliminated almost all visibility and forced me to slow my bike to a crawl. I could not explain what it was, but I sensed that it was a protective cover of some kind, concealing whatever was beyond it. I felt nothing on my skin as I passed through it, but I sensed that it was there, teeming with a power of some kind.

The mist persisted for several hundred meters before suddenly dropping off. I emerged suddenly on the other side of the mysterious expanse after several hundred meters, and the air was suddenly clear again. It was darker, though, as if the light had been blotted out. I looked up and saw that the mist not only covered the ground, but extended up into the sky, creating a sort of enormous dome.

To say that I was without fear at this point would be a lie. The mist was such an alien entity, such an unexpected turn of events that I could feel myself tensing involuntarily. Yet I was determined to get to the bottom of this. I pressed on.

After about another kilometer's drive, a plume of smoke appeared on the horizon. Soon, I saw a large wall appear ahead of me. I slowed as I approached to get a better view of what lay ahead.

It was a settlement. The wall surrounding it was a defense installation, but that defense had been breached. There were gaping holes all around it, and evidence of explosions and carbon scoring. There were no sounds of battle currently, but it was clear that a large one had occurred here, and not long ago.

I drove around the perimeter of the wall until I reached a gate. There, I was surprised to find a young man. Small enough to be mistaken for a boy, he clutched a battered stun baton and stood nervously, shifting his weight back and forth. When he saw me, he swallowed and took a step back.

"Stay back!" he warned. "Don't come any closer!"

I shut down my speeder and dismounted slowly, then raised my hands in a peaceful gesture. I did my best to exert a calming influence. "I'm not here to hurt you," I said.

"Who are you?" the man said quickly, "Why are you here?"

"My name is Lofor," I answered. "Maast Lofor. I'm here because...because I'm looking for information. I was attacked. One of those who attacked me was carrying this." Cautiously, I reached into a pocket and produced the waypoint datapad that I had found on the Sith thug. I offered it to the man.

With even more caution, he approached me, stun baton always at the ready, and took the datapad from my hand. His eyes widened as he looked at it, and seemed to recognize the device. "They attacked you?" he said.

"Yes," I nodded, "They tried to kill me."

An incredulous look crossed his face. "And yet, you live."

"I defended myself. The won't trouble anyone again."

The man swallowed again, but his demeanor had clearly changed. I sensed relief in him.

"Where am I?" I asked. "What is this place?"

"This is Aurillia," he answered. "My name's Whip."

Dathomirian Trek

2005-02-16T09:23:00.000-05:00

I frowned and checked the waypoint datapad again, for the fourth time. The location marked should have been just over two kilometers from where I was standing, but all I saw in front of me was a large, empty expanse of Dathomir's scarred landscape. There was nothing there.

I had driven for what had seemed days since arriving at Dathomir's tiny Science Outpost, one of two locations on the planet where anybody lived. In reality, it had been a trip of about six hours. At first, I had feared an encounter with a Nightsister, or perhaps something even worse, but in the end it was the environment of the planet itself that was the biggest hindrance.

Dathomir's confounding surface is riddled with an extensive network of valleys and chasms, like the deep scars of a vicious attack by some ancient, clawed giant. Such environmental hazards are difficult enough to maneuver through with a speederbike, which performs best over level ground. To add to the misery, though, Dathomir's ravines are infested with a vile species of tree, that is more a weed than anything else, but astoundingly hardy and tangled. Driving through it is almost always impossible. Consequently, a lot of time is wasted trying to find alternate routes around particularly thick patches of this vegetation.

After six hours of hard riding, I now stood on a small rise at the edge of one such ravine, where I had a clear vantage point of the landscape to the east, for several kilometers. From the intelligence I had gathered from the dead Sith, I expected to see a settlement of some kind, a town, an encampment, something. Anything. But there was nothing but an odd, empty plain.

And yet...not empty.

As I concentrated on the distant horizon, I could feel a faint glimmer of presence rippling through the Force. There was something out there, I was now sure. What or where it was, though, was beyond my skill to know. To find out, I would have to venture out into the empty expanse I saw before me.

That, however, was a task for another day. Exhausted, dehydrated and sore, I made camp for the night. Tomorrow, I would investigate the mysterious plain to the East.

Screenshots Update

2005-02-11T13:05:00.000-05:00

Just a brief note to say that I've updated the hosting location of my screenshots...

They are now hosted here:
http://photobucket.com/albums/v693/maast/

This site allows for more convenient viewing, as well as direct linking, so I can post pictures into my entries.

On the Dark Planet

2005-02-09T20:18:00.000-05:00

It was hard to believe how much time had actually passed since Spiderwell and I had laid the foundations of the Galactic Domination Corporation. It seemed like only yesterday.

But there was no denying the changes that had taken place. When I had last spent any significant time around Mos Nox, the GDC was but a fledgling start-up, with fewer than 10 member partners. I had no political aspirations of any kind. Now, I was the elected Mayor of an independent city-state, and our Corporation was the most powerful group in the northern Dantooine hemisphere.

Consequently, our own businesses and economic interests had grown at an equally exponential rate. Spiderwell's success secret, in my opinion, had always been his skills in interpersonal relationships. The Wookiee just knew how to talk to people (as ironic as that may seem, considering the odd collaboration of howls and growls that is Shiryywook), and as a result, people liked doing business with him. To say that everyone on Dantooine knew Spiderwell of Spiderwell's World of Medicines was only a slight exaggeration, if at all.

It was good to know, then, after all this time, that Spiderwell's defining characteristic had not changed, despite his success. What's more, he was just as willing as ever to lend me his contact files. He knew all manners of Rangers, bodyguards, soldiers for hire. If there was an expedition to be mustered, he knew the personnel to call.

I was humbled by this generosity, of course. But something told me that bringing others along would not be wise. It was just a feeling, perhaps, but it was an insistent one. I needed to investigate the Dathomir location I discovered in the Siths' data alone.

Spiderwell had been on several reconnaisance expeditions to Dathomir, looking for rare herbal roots and vegetation that he sought in order to increase the potency of his buffs. As I had never been there, he was able to provide me with lots of insightful information about the planet.

Dathomir is a dark, foreboding planet. Most sentient beings can survive in its atmosphere, though its terrain is extreme and its native inhabitants dangerous. There are few that are comfortable going to Dathomir, and none who enjoy it. In addition to the brackasets, baz nitches and carnivorous plants that are scattered generously around its forbidding continents, Dathomir is also home to two of of the most feared factions in the galaxy - the Nightsisters and the Spider Mountain Clan. These two groups had been at war for as long as anyone could remember. The Nightsisters were reputed to be weilders of great power, mystic weapons and unstoppable force. Needless to say, I was not excited that the next stage of my journey along the Path would take me to this dangerous place.

Spiderwell and I spent another night at our camp outside Mos Nox, discussing the challenge ahead of me, as well as other municipal matters that needed attention.

At the back of my mind through the whole night, though, were my origins, where all this had began. Thinking about the GDC's fledgling days in that very region of Tatooine carried my mind back even further to Rori, to a spaceflight that was supposed to be a pleasant holiday trip...to an unexpected Imperial encounter and the calamity that sent my life spinning blindly on a Path into the unknown future.

All I knew was that there was something important waiting for me on Dathomir.

What I didn't know, though, was if it was going to give me answers.

It seemed there was only one way to find out.

Attack on the Sith

2005-01-26T21:56:00.000-05:00

Within moments of my arrival at the Sith encampment south of Mos Nox, it was clear that my preparations had been unnecessary. Warranted, of course, for the sake of caution, but Spiderwell's best buffs had clearly been overkill.

The encampment consisted solely of a large tent near a smoldering fire pit, surrounded by several dark lumps on the ground. I had parked my speederbike about one hundred meters away and approached on foot, but before I even reached the camp, I knew that these lumps were the Sith bandits.

Was it Jawa Beer that had inebriated them to such a degree that they were the lifeless, unconscious lumps I saw before me? Perhaps it was a case of Bantha Blasters, stolen from the cantina in Bestine. Whatever the cause, it was readily apparent that the entertainment they had provided themselves with the night previous had taken charge of these worthless beings.

I stopped at the edge of their campsite, literally tapping my foot in the dust and surveying the spectacle before me with disgust. Certainly I did not relish the thought of slaughtering sleeping, drunken slobs such as the ones before me, however vile I was certain they to be. Yet searching their bodies and escaping without a fight did not seem right, either. Considering, I stepped forward and quietly prodded one of the sleeping forms with my boot. There was no response. The Sith did not even budge. I bent over to have a closer look at him. During the attack by the first three Sith I encountered, I hadn't had a great deal of time to examine them closely. I wanted to see exactly what it was I was dealing with.

As I stooped near the lifeless form, a dark wash of dread ran down the length of my spine. Too late, I had sensed a trap.

With incredulity, I watched the dark lump at my feet roll swiftly away, then rise to its full height. The Sith was awake. In my peripheral vision, I saw movement from the other side of the camp. All of the Sith were awake!

Cursing my own arrogance and stupidity, I took several quick steps back and raised my vibroknuckler to the ready. Just a moment earlier, I had been telling myself I was overprepared. Now, as dark shapes rose ominously all around me, I realized just how wrong I had been. I had been far too confident in my meager abilities with the Force, and it might cost me my life.

I struggled to calm my emotions as the dark figures advanced toward me. There were six of them, each carrying a gaderiffi baton with a confidence that suggested much more extensive training and skill than I had previously surmised. This wasn't going to be easy. My suspicions of their competence were further confirmed when they didn't rush me. I had expected them to come at me with everything they had, like the last of their kind I had encountered, but instead they approached cautiously, sizing me up with intelligent, ruthless eyes. I couldn't allow them any more time to think than I had already given them.

With a growl, I launched a Spitting Rawl attack at the Sith closest to me. This was a devastating attack that a smuggler had taught me in Kadaara, which crippled the target's sensory abilities and landed a brunt force attack on their torso. The Spitting Rawl can kill an ordinary man within a matter of seconds. The Sith, however, merely stumbled a half-step back, grimaced, and continued to advance toward me. It had taken the brutal hit with hardly a reaction. Refusing to be intimidated, I dove to the side and shoulder-rolled to my feet, a few meters away from another Sith. Fortunately, this one had not expected this sudden move, and another Spitting Rawl crippled him before he knew what was happening.

At once, there were two more on me. I feinted as if to muster my strength to throw them off me, but then dropped to the ground and thrust upward with my vibroknuckler, making a vicious, slashing arc from one to the other. They fell backward, both screaming in pain.

I rolled to my feet and wiped the blood out of my eyes to see the remaining three Sith crouching in front of me, gaderiffi batons at the ready. Wary after seeing their numbers reduced by half, they waited to see what I would do next, hoping to force me to make the next move.

I was secretly thankful for their hesitation, as the explosion of action I had just unleashed had dramatically exhausted me. If they had pounced, I might have been finished. As it was, I had time to catch my breath and wait for the fatigue to fade somewhat. The largest Sith, directly in front of me, signaled to his companions. They fanned out, circling around behind me.

To anyone untrained for such tactics, a simultaneous assault from three directions spelled almost certain death. However, to a well-trained Teräs Käsi warrior, such a predicament was ideal, contrary as it might seem. A Teräs Käsi Master uses the art like a gunslinger uses firearms. Consequently, just as a Master Pistoleer can turn a situation where he is surrounded on its head, into a deadly crossfire against his enemies, a Teräs Käsi Master can do the same with melee assailants.

The Sith were tough and determined, but they were still thugs at best. They reacted as I had anticipated, rushing forward together and attacking me at different target zones. The two that I could see in front of me were going for my head and torso; I could only assume that the third was targeting my legs. The obvious reaction would be to block the forward attacks to my upper body, but that would leave me exposed to the attack from the rear, which would cripple my legs and end my ability to defend myself.

Sacrifice is sometimes required to gain that which is important. I knew that the Sith would not expect me to take a blow that I saw coming. I would use this to my advantage.

They made their move, the two Sith before me snarling as one came in high and the other in a sweeping arc toward the center of my chest. I threw up my fists to create a blocking wall against the attack targeting my head and tensed my abdominal muscles to receive the second blow. The Sith's eyes widened as he connected - he had not expected to be able to make contact.

I was already reaching out with the Force, however, trying to sense the third Sith behind me. Suddenly I knew where the attack was going. I shifted my hips and lashed out backward with my foot, blindly yet seeing through the Force, connecting squarely with the Sith's nose. It exploded under my heel, and he fell to his back with a cry of agony.

With several quick movements, the two in front of me were dispatched before they knew what was happening. Wasting no time, I picked up one of their gaderiffi batons and spun to face the third, who was cowering on the ground with his hands over his face. I pounced upon him, thrust my vibroknuckler into the soft spot under his chin and lifted it up before me. The metal blade held the thug's head securely in place as I swung the gaderiffi baton into his temple. His mangled head fell to the ground, and he was no more.

Adrenaline and instincts forced me to my feet immediately, urged me to prepare for the next assault, but there was none. At my feet was only the carnage of the attack and the darkened, blood-stained sands of Tatooine.

On the corpse of one of the Sith I located an encrypted datapad, similar to the one given to me in an alley in Wayfar. That one had directed me to the location of Obi-Wan Kenobi's former home. I wondered where this one pointed. Along with the waypoint datapad, I found a data disk, the contents of which I could not discern until I returned to my base camp.

I thumbed my comlink and signaled to Spiderwell that I was returning, and that he should meet me at the camp. Then I mounted my speederbike and roared North.

Spider was waiting for me when I arrived. He looked me over and then roared a comment in Shyriiwook.

"I'm fine," I responded, "It's not my blood."

I showed him the items I had recovered, then pulled my portable terminal from my pack and inserted the data disk. The disk was encoded and access was restricted, but it was a simple password block that was easily routed - another trick the smuggler from Kadaara had taught me. With the protection thus disabled, the information contained on the disk appeared.

"It looks like military plans," Spiderwell commented in Shyriiwook, looking over my shoulder.

I nodded. "They are rendezvous orders and assault plans. It looks like the Sith are gathering for a large-scale assault on a fortification of some kind."

"But where?" Spiderwell asked.

I picked up the waypoint datapad and looked at Spiderwell. "I assume this will give us a clue. It's referenced here, in this file, as the target location. See? The serial number matches the datapad."

"Why wouldn't they just name the location in the files?"

I shrugged. "Maybe for security, in case someone got hold of the plans. They wouldn't be able to identify the target. These two items were probably not supposed to be kept in the same place."

I pressed a button on the underside of the datapad to activate it, but it only responded with a negative-sounding beep.

"Encrypted," Spiderwell said.

I nodded, then pulled a cable from a port in my terminal and connected it to the datapad. I ran a few cracking programs, and soon the encryption was broken. I tried the button again. This time, the datapad responded properly and displayed the coordinates of the Siths' target.

We both looked at it for a moment, then at each other.

"So," I said, "Do you know anything about Dathomir?"

Morning Preparations

2005-01-23T18:45:00.000-05:00

I arose an hour before break of day, quickly gathered my things and shook Spiderwell's sleeping form. The wookiee rose with a groan, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and the sand out of his white fur.

As Spider readied his medical droid and prepared his buffs, I knelt before the quiet embers of last night's fire and concentrated, trying to quiet my mind and feel the Force flowing through me. I tried to cast all images out of my mind and focus on sensing my immediate surroundings. As those became clear in my mind, I searched further out, expanding my internal vision in every increasing distances. The Force allowed me to see quite far, nearly into the center of Mos Nox, but it was not yet powerful enough to reach the Sith encampment further to the South.

When I returned to the immediate and opened my eyes, Spiderwell was already applying his buffs to me, grunting softly to himself in Shyriiwook as he did so. He noticed me open my eyes and asked, "Are you ready?"

I nodded silently, feeling for the first time that morning the weight of the task ahead of me. I turned my concentration to my inner body, feeling the power of the buffs' enhancement course through me like silver water. The initial elation of a buff can be psychologically addictive. There were many who, once they tasted one, could not get enough buffs, and eventually succumbed to an overdose of the powerful medicines. For this reason, I acknowledged the euphoric feeling, but reminded myself that it would pass, and set my mind firmly on the task ahead.

During the previous night, I had considered whether a stealth-based infiltration of the Sith encampment might be more prudent, considering the circumstances. Though I did not relish the thought of taking more life, however, I realized that these Sith would press an immediate attack on me, were I discovered. I sensed that the encampment was filled with more of the same tribe as the three who had previously attacked me. There was a great deal of hate to the South. If they truly were of the same ilk, they were not worthy of the consideration of preserving them. They were a scourge to be erased.

Since destruction of the camp was the only answer, I then considered whether calling in reinforcements, such as the Temple City Militia (who were under my sole command), would not be wise. I decided, though, that a large-scale involvement in this matter would likely raise more attention than would be helpful in the long run. If I could decimate the camp quickly and quietly by myself, the chance that a larger force might discern what had happened and come after me was relatively low. If I stormed in with a large assault group, however, the chances of leaving more detailed evidence behind grew exponentially. No, this was a solo effort. I needed to get in and out quietly, then cover my tracks.

Without being able to see into the camp from a distance, I could only sense their presence and create a general plan of strategy for the assault. I discussed a few tactical maneuvers with Spiderwell, mostly to reassure myself of the plan's validity, then rose and swung my leg over my waiting Speederbike. I flipped the ignition switch and the engines erupted with a roar, spewing bright blue flames into the early morning air. With a nod to Spiderwell, I was off.

The Eve of Battle

2005-01-18T09:43:00.000-05:00

It was a Sith encampment. I could feel it.

Nothing in the ordinary data waypoint storage device I had retrieved from the corpse of the dead Sith assailant told me this. It gave no indication of what destination it pointed toward, only a location somewhere in the desert several kilometers South of Mos Nox.

Yet I knew that whoever traveled to that location would be facing more of the same scum that had just attacked me. It was a feeling, a tingling throughout my body, yet detached from it at the same time. The Force was speaking to me, and it was telling me to be prepared.

The first three Sith had been dispatched almost without any trouble at all, but an encampment was sure to shelter more than just three. It was time to call in some support.

As I have mentioned before, since leaving Tatooine, Spiderwell had established a reputation for himself as a medical specialist that placed him clearly in the upper echelons of the profession. He was particularly skilled at crafting and applying combat medical enhancement preparations -- more commonly known as "buffs." Buffs are a medium-term enhancement that allow the patient to endure far more physical abuse than would normally be possible, by artificially enhancing the body's natural defenses and pain response. They also allowed a person to undertake physical activity for an abnormally extended period of time, due to their great enhancement of endurance and recovery. The only thing they didn't help was psychic stress and battle fatigue -- common side effects that professional soldiers often experienced after long-term battle, but not something I expected to encounter here.

Spiderwell was on the planet Talus when I reached him, inspecting his water collection installations that supplied his buff production facilities with precious, enhanced Talus spring water. I had been secretive about my Path with nearly everyone except Spiderwell, so there was no need to go into great details about my situation. I told him I needed him, and he came.

Luckily the hop from Talus to Tatooine was not particularly long, and he arrived in Bestine later that night. We made camp outside the northern border of Mos Nox, where we enjoyed the opportunity to catch up with each other and regale each other with stories of the old days. Finally, I explained what had happened to me recently -- about my encounter with the mysterious old man and the attack by the Sith. Spider didn't ask many questions. He just told me that whatever I needed, I had.

My plan, I told him, was to assault the camp at dawn. Under the cover of the early morning desert shadow and the lethargy of the chill in the air, I expected to be able to take them by surprise and dispatch them before they knew what was happening. Then I hoped to learn more about who they were, and what they were doing.

There was no question in my mind that they needed to be exterminated. Though their encampment was still kilometers away, I could feel their presence like a dagger in my back. They reeked with the Dark Side of the Force.

Spider agreed to apply his best buffs to me in the early morning, then stand by in Mos Nox in case I needed further assistance. He dabbled in handgun combat at that time, but was no expert. He could, however, apply more short-term medical enhancements during combat if needed.

Thus agreed, we retired for the night. For several long minutes I watched the stars of the galaxy drift slowly by overhead, and wondered what the next day would bring.

Sith Attack

2005-01-11T09:50:00.000-05:00

The Sith were dead almost before I knew they were even there. Their bodies hit the sandy ground with three dull thumps, kicking up three small clouds of dust into the air.

I was on Tatooine to clear up some final real estate arrangements outside of Mos Nox. We were finally letting go our plot of land where the GDC had originally been headquartered, to some local entrepreneurs hoping to make a quick buck on some new-fangled solar energy capture devices. I was just happy to be done with it all - I had no patience for playing landlord anymore.

The Sith had come up suddenly, roaring up on Swoop bikes and howling as they hurled themselves at me. They were human, or humanoid anyway, and frightful in appearance, dressed in dirty, dark cloaks and baring teeth as yellow as the sands of Tatooine.

Instinctively, I lowered myself and extended my right leg, sweeping it in a tight radius - a basic Teräs Käsi defense against a charging attack. The sweep caught two of the Sith and sent them sprawling headfirst into the dirt. The other leaped over my leg, just barely escaping the blow to his shins.

In an instant, I was up and at the ready as the third Sith came at me, this time raising a vicious looking dagger and preparing to strike with all his strength. That was his undoing, of course. I let him throw himself into the blow with all of his power, then simply evaded at the last moment. Before he knew what was happening, the dagger had fallen out of his hand, into mine and was then lodged into his lower back. A sharp twist ensured that his spinal cord would never again send signals to his brain.

The other two were back up and upon me by that time, but they were dispatched more easily than their partner. They launched themselves at me as if to grapple, but with two easy blows they both fell, the bone of their noses impaled into the grey matter inside their heads.

I looked at the three bodies sprawled in the sand around me in bewilderment. I had done battle before, but this was the first time that I had been hunted. Every other encounter I had experienced had been of my own volition, of my own design.

I considered what the Old Man had said, and the crystal he had given me to protect. It must have been what they were after.

I knelt down to search the bodies, to see if I could find any clues as to their origins or intentions. Aside from a few credits, I found nothing on two of them. On the third, however (the one with his own dagger lodged in his spine), I found a datadisc. I picked it up and examined it.

It was a waypoint disc. It told the location of, well, something.

It seemed my return to Dantooine would be delayed. I had a new destination for the time being.

An Old Man

2004-12-21T17:27:00.000-05:00

Finding Ben Kenobi's hovel, feeling the surge of truth and power flow through me to my toes and knowing that a part of my written destiny had been realized -- all of this brought me up to a level of mental and emotional awareness that was difficult to process.

What's more, returning home to Dantooine and taking up my daily responsibilities once again felt hollow and empty in comparison. I felt like I had touched the true nature of the universe for a brief moment, only to be forced to let it slip through my fingers.

Maybe that's why I dismissed the old man at first. Maybe I was too wrapped up in my own conflicting emotions to notice, or even care, that he was studying me intently from a distance, leaning on a wooden staff and rubbing his chin.

I was leaning against the wall at the shuttleport in Crystal Point, a town that once thrived but had recently declined due to an insurgence of raids by Force crystal hunters. The town was located just South of the Crystal Caves, where many of the galaxy's most precious gems had been found. Crystal Point would have been a bustling metropolis, a huge mining town, if it hadn't been for the multitude of creatures that infested the Caves. The place was inhospitable, accessible to only the most hearty of adventurers. What's more, the crystal hunters, a nomadic band of scavengers who were reputed to wield weapons of mystical power, frequently preyed upon anything and anyone who neared the caverns. Their influence was great enough to have stifled the growth of Crystal Point considerably.

I had come to Crystal Point on a surveying mission, following the data from my mineral surveying tools as they pointed me toward a dense lode of metals that I could use as raw materials in manufacturing.

It was a good excuse, and a viable one, but nevertheless I knew that the real reason I had traveled out to this remote corner of Dantooine was the image of Obi-wan Kenobi's earthen hut, which had altered in my mind, changing from a source of inspiration to a haunting omen. I could not manage to stop thinking about it, and the Path I feared might have come to an end. For what was I to do now, that Master Skywalker's counsel had proven so significant, yet without result? I knew nothing more than I did a month ago. I had come far, but felt I had moved nowhere.

As my mind occupied itself with the arduous task of untangling this mess of thoughts, the old man finally approached me, scuffling up a small slope to stand before me.

"Maast Lofor," he said, "The Force is with you."

I looked up at him, my mind suddenly wrenched from its introspection. "How do you know that?" I asked, incredulous.

"I know a great many things, my dear boy," the man answered, "But some are more obvious than others. The Force is on you like bark on a tree, friend. A blind man could see it."

I started to look down at my body, before catching myself and blushing at my own foolishness. The old man didn't seem to notice.

"I need your help," he said.

I nodded. "Go on," I said.

The old man glanced around us furtively, then stepped closer. I saw now that he was dressed in the clothes of a simple pilgrim: wrapped boots, cloth pants and a baggy poncho of nondescript color and material. From beneath the worn garment, a gnarled hand suddenly produced a curious looking object. He held it out to me.

"I need you to protect this for me."

I looked at the object. It was a crystal, I saw now, transluscent and bluish in color. It had three protrusions, being in fact a cluster of crystals, and its facets were large and reflective. It seemed to glow from within. "What is it?" I asked.

He hesitated, as if unsure of how to respond. "It is a guide. It is a very useful object in the right hands."

"And those hands are mine?" I asked.

The old man shrugged. "I don't know, boy. Could be. All I know is that this crystal means more than my old life, and if I don't pass it on soon, both of those things are going to fall into the wrong hands."

"What do you mean?"

"You ever hear of the Sith?" he said. When I shook my head, he continued, "The Sith are Force users, but from the wrong side of the tracks, if you know what I mean. The Dark Side. Bad medicine. They caught wind of our little secret here, and they've been on my tail ever since I left Dearic. They'll catch up with me soon, unless I give this to someone who can properly protect it. You seem like the type."

Thoughts of my long, hard hours spent training in the arts of Fencing and Teräs Käsi flashed before my mind. I was indeed prepared for such a task. The possibility of that being a coincidence was now almost certainly ruled out.

I nodded, and accepted the crystal. I placed it in my pack, wrapped in a spare shirt and concealed as best I could.

"Listen," the old man said, "These Sith are up to no good. They've been causing a lot of trouble for the people where I come from. When they come after you -- and they will, believe me -- try and see what you can find out from them. Maybe you can discover some information that could be of help."

"Where do you come from?" I asked, "And how will I find you?"

"I come from Aurilia," he said, "And don't worry about it. You'll find me when you need to find me. Or," he said, a sly grin crinkling his weathered face, "I should say, I'll find you." With that he turned, and hobbled away just as the Crystal Point shuttle arrived behind me.

Homecoming

2004-12-11T13:45:00.000-05:00

It was about another week before I was able to return to Tatooine. Business in Temple City kept me very busy. I was coordinating the immigration of another organization, the Galaxy Force Guild (, later to be restructured and renamed as Galaxy Force Seekers ) into Temple City. Their leader during this move was Voluptuous Forrestier; after the restructuring, Iavale Alici took over. Both were instrumental in boosting Temple City's population.

Once the initial arrangements were made, I left the final details to GFS and my Militia, and took a long-needed excursion to Tatooine. I declined passage on the express shuttle, less because it was an Imperial vessel than because of the more relaxing nature of the longer flight. A few days in space did much to reinvigorate my exhausted mind, and when I arrived on Tatooine I felt refreshed and ready to explore.

Finding Obi-Wan Kenobi's former residence was no easy task. This was advantageous in one sense, because the Empire had not been able to locate it, thus ensuring its survival (assuming the harsh environment of desert Tatooine had not destroyed it). Of course, it also meant that there was a lot of legwork to be done before I could find it myself.

My first stop was Bestine, where I still knew several locals, including a few of the bartenders in the cantina near the starport. It was good to catch up with old friends, but I found no leads in the Capitol. After a few Jawa Beers and some consideration, I decided to see what I could find out in Anchorhead, a city known to sympathize with the Rebels. I knew that Kenobi had been a Rebel sympathizer as well, so I figured that was as good a place as any to look.

In Anchorhead, several people I talked to seemed to know something, but were unwilling to voice it. It seemed that the Empire's reach was long, even here. Finally, in the underground level of a dusty, old cantina, I ran into a Rebel officer, undercover but recognizable to me from a small insignia he wore on his bandolier. I introduced myself as a soldier of the Alliance and explained to him what I was looking for. He considered, then told me a few names of people I should talk to in the remote town of Wayfar. They might be able to help further.

I boarded a shuttle for Wayfar and looked up the people the Rebel officer had told me about. A few I could not locate. I found the name of another, but it seemed he was dead. Only one was I able to meet in person. He only agreed to speak with me at an undisclosed location, and made me promise never to reveal his name. And, of course, he wanted several thousand credits for the information. After I gave my consent and my money, he told me that he knew the location of Kenobi's former home. He programmed the coordinates into my datapad, then scurried away into the shadows.

Bristling with anticipation, I hurriedly boarded my speederbike and opened up the throttle as far as it would go before I even left the gates of Wayfar. I had never expected to find success so soon - I half expected the information to be false and to find myself waylaid in the desert.

Sure enough, though, as I neared the location stored in my datapad, I saw a small, earthen hut, half covered in the yellow sand of the desert. I had found Kenobi's home.

Long abandoned, looted clean and scoured by time and weather, the hut would have held no interest for any passing observer. To someone who did not know its significance, it was simply another Tatooine home, abandoned long ago and left to the womp rats and scyks.

To me, however, it was a revelation. As I stepped through the doorway, I suddenly felt a surge of energy course through my body. I could see every detail with infinite precision. I was aware of everything around me at once. I sensed every movement, every tiny motion, from the scuttling of the dune beetles outside to the beating of my own heart in my chest.

My quest for enlightenment had opened a massive new door. This I knew instinctively.

The Force was with me.

The Alliance

2004-12-02T11:28:00.000-05:00

Another major turning point in my life came with my decision to join the Rebel Alliance.

Obviously, mentioning specific details about this event and the process involved in joining that group would not be wise. There are those who deny the very existence of the Alliance, and many others who would not hesitate to execute any member of its ranks that they discovered. Therefore, I'll have to remain rather general about this topic.

My decision came when I finally realized that the Empire was having a direct impact on my life and business, and that the problems it was causing myself and my fellow citizens would not go away on their own. The constant harrassment in Imperial cities like Bestine was bad enough -- some days, it seemed that I couldn't take a step without being scanned for contraband spice or sliced weaponry. Rarely did they find anything, but the searches continued regardless.

But the restrictions on business, travel and virtually all other aspects of life on Dantooine were tainted by the Empire. Temple City, although technically an autonomous city-state, was nevertheless required to pay kick-backs to the Dantooine Imperial Command -- a percentage of our shuttleport travel fees and vehicle repair services. The fees were considerable, and would have been even greater if we hadn't elected to forgo all taxes entirely, sparing our citizens at least some of the expense and thus dodging some of the financial bullets through a loophole in the system.

Worst, however, was what I learned when I ventured to a secret Imperial research facility called The Warren with my friend and fellow citizen, La-la Kla-Eha. La-la told me that The Warren was something that I, as a person in a leadership role, needed to see. She had been there before, and served as my guide through the facility.

I regret that I must also remain vague on this point as well. Criticism of the Empire is frowned upon almost as much as loyalty to the Rebellion. Suffice it to say, the Empire's control of the facility was less than satisfactory, and many lives had been irrevocably altered because of their neglect. The Warren was a fearsome, dreadful place, to which I never wish to return.

I am thankful to La-la for showing me this facility, which laid the nature of the Empire out to me in the plain light of day. Prompted by these new-found realizations, I followed up on a few rumors that I had heard and journeyed to an undisclosed location on Corellia, where I was able to speak with some key Alliance recruiters. I underwent an initiation of sorts, which found me performing duty missions for several different commanders as my loyalty was tested. For a time I was under the command of Admiral Ackbar. Later, I did some side jobs for Han Solo and his Wookiee co-pilot, Chewbacca.

Finally, I was given the singular honor of lending my service to the legendary Luke Skywalker himself.

I cannot disclose any information about that meeting. Master Skywalker is too precious to the cause to risk it. I can say, however, that it was extremely life-changing. Master Skywalker counseled me in the nature of the Force, imparting me with a great deal of information that was overwhelming in its significance.

This meeting with Luke Skywalker convinced me that joining the Alliance was furthering my Path toward my personal enlightenment, whatever that might be.

Master Skywalker's last piece of advice before releasing me to general duty and declaring me a sworn member of the Rebel Alliance was to visit the homestead of the Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, on Tatooine.

He would not tell me why it was so important that I go there, but he insisted that I promise to do it. He spoke with an urgency that implied he knew something about me that I did not. I agreed, vowing to seek out the hermit's hovel as soon as I could.

Hero's Quests

2004-11-16T10:28:00.000-05:00

The next period of my life was punctuated by several significant events, as well as many insignificant ones. For the sake of my readers' interests, I shall recount only those major events here that changed my life profoundly. Not all of these events may have taken place in the order in which I shall recount them.

The first notable event that I should record is my achievement of being named Hero of Tatooine.

I do not record this event because of any personal pride or need to demonstrate my superiority. I feel only that it is necessary to demonstrate the path that led me further to my ultimate destiny.

I had begun my training in the Teräs Käsi art, and had begun searching for suitable locations to practice my skills. I needed living targets to practice on, for the most realistic feedback, but I was not interested in harming innocent people or creatures of the good-natured variety.

The GDC members were most helpful in helping me find good hunting grounds. One such place in particular was located on the planet Tatooine, and commonly referred to as the Squill Cave, though I don't believe that it had any officially registered name. It was simply an extensive system of caverns below the ground near Mos Entha, which was infested with a large, rapidly reproducing colony of mountain squills. The beasts were able to replenish their numbers so quickly that it had proven impossible to eradicate them all. They were nasty, mutated creatures that served no valuable purpose. No one would miss them in the slightest. Even better, they were humanoid in form so they were well suited for practicing martial arts.

Each expedition I made to the Squill Cave was more and more successful. Eventually, I was able to defend myself so well that I could venture very deep into the cavern's dark reaches. Finally one day, after hours of combat, stealth and sweat, I found myself at the very bottom of the dank pit, face to face with an old man.

He was sitting by a small fire, in a modest encampment tucked away in a corner of the rock. I was so astonished to find such a sight at the bottom of a cavern, that I stood speechless before him for many minutes. Finally, he broke the silence and spoke, his raspy voice reverberating against the wet cavern walls.

"Well?" he said, "What, you've never seen an old man before?"

I shook myself out of my bewildered haze and stepped forward. I introduced myself and asked the man what he was doing at the bottom of the Squill Cave. He told me that he lived there during the warm season, taking refuge from the desert heat. The squills didn't bother him, he said, though he did not explain why. He could walk freely among them without fear of being attacked.

"You must be a warrior of some aptitude to have made it all the way down here in once piece," he said.

I shrugged and told him that I was a student of Teräs Käsi, not yet a certified Master, but well-learned and experienced.

He raised an eyebrow at this, and began to speak of the "world above," as he called it, and the political changes that were underway in that domain. It seemed a strange subject for an old hermit in a cave to be talking about with a bloody-handed stranger coated in squill mucus and gore, but I supposed that he didn't get much chance to talk with anybody down there. I told him that I was aware of the political strife caused by the conflict between the Empire and the Rebellion that was said to oppose it, but that I had not chosen to become involved. He asked me whether I supported the Empire's ideals, as a matter of principle. Truthfully, I told him I did not.

The hermit said that Tatooine was in need of people like me, who believed in the autonomy of the people and who were strong enough to stand up for that which they believed. He asked me if I would be willing to validate my principles by helping those in need. I told him that I would.

Thus began a long quest to enact change in the lives of some of Tatooine's inhabitants, to right some wrongs and to uphold nature's balance. The hermit gave me several tasks to complete, and only cryptic information as to where I could find them. He said that a true hero of Tatooine would understand its people and would know where to look.

As it turned out, that was true enough. I had spent a great deal of time on Tatooine before and after moving to Temple City. I spoke with some people that I knew, in the Bestine cantina, for example, and soon learned of a few situations that sounded very similar to those that the hermit had described for me.

The tasks were varied in their nature. One required that I destroy a ravaging beast called a bladeback boar that was harrassing a community in the north. Another, a test of intelligence, required that I assist a bounty hunter in identifying her mark, who had hidden himself cleverly among a group of people, all of whom were so similar that he could not easily be singled out. Yet another quest took me into the desert east of Mos Eisley, where some pirates were being held in the cellar of a local ranch. I found their captain encamped but a few kilometers away. He pleaded with me to help them, saying that his compatriots had been framed. I went to the ranch the next morning and spoke with the rancher's wife, and realized that there was not a shred of truth in what the treacherous criminals had told me. I assisted the ranchers until the authorities were able to come and apprehend the pirates. Later, I helped a moisture farmer by infiltrating a bandits' cave where his kidnapped family was being held and leading them to escape.

Several weeks passed before the hermit told me that my tasks were complete. He presented me with a large, metallic orb, which glowed orange, seemingly under its own power. He told me that he spoke for the people of Tatooine, and that I had proven myself worth of the honorable title of Hero of Tatooine.

Brief Notice

2004-11-16T10:25:00.000-05:00

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The Art of Teräs Käsi

2004-11-15T01:15:00.000-05:00

I had valuable new knowledge of the Force. I had insights into the Path it seemed that I was destined to follow. I even had an ancient lightsaber, a reminder of K'te and of what the future might hold for me. Yet I still felt empty. There was still something missing.

The Holocron the Remnant had given me was silent. It did not respond to my thoughts or attempts to activate it. There was no voice in my head when I held it in my hands. I considered briefly that the Remnant might have been deliberately misleading me by giving me an artifact that was faulty, or worse, but it didn't take me long to decide that I did not care either way. I was through with the Holocrons. I would not seek out any more of them.

They had been intriguing guides for me, but I had decided the time had come for me to seize my own destiny. Perhaps there was indeed a great plan in place for me, but if there was, I was going to discover it on my own. It was time to follow the Path of my own accord.

Sales were good. They had been slow at first in Temple City, but soon I had trouble keeping up with demand. I kept my shop open on Tatooine as well, and the money started rolling in.

As most of my production was automated, I had time to devote to other pursuits. Having mastered the art of Fencing, I had realized that while it was an effective technique, it was still far inferior to the art of Teräs Käsi, the martial art I had seen Gerrvin apply so effectively in combat. I decided to learn it myself.

I had grown accustomed to the physical activity of a fighting art, so I knew what to expect. Nevertheless, it took an enormous amount of willpower and effort to learn the basics of Teräs Käsi. It was only through countless hours of repetition that I was able to get a grasp on the fundamental aspects of the art.

It seemed it would be a long road, but I was pleased that it was a road of my own making.

The Lessons of K'te

2004-11-05T16:49:00.000-05:00

The lessons I learned from K'te would later prove to be invaluable to me. He knew a great deal about the Living Force, that element of the Force that influences our actions and senses most directly.

I was surprised to learn that he knew very little of the Jedi Knights. By this time I had done some research on my own and learned a good deal about the Jedi and the great power their order used to have.

I learned that K'te came from a remote Twi'lek tribe that had never had much to do with the civilized galaxy, and had cultivated its connection with the Force independently. From what I gathered, they weren't nearly as powerful as the Jedi Knights had once been. They understood the Force, however, and were able to craft lightsabers.

K'te explained to me that he had been sent to Dantooine to face the adversaries of the Remnant of Exar Kun as a rite of passage. If he returned, he would be granted elevated status in his tribe. If he failed, death was the only alternative.

With a heavy heart, I told him of my previous encounter with the Remnant, and of the Twi'lek that Gerrvin had fought and killed. K'te bowed his head at this.

"He was my cousin," he said.

I felt a great weight press upon my stomach. How could I have been part of this?

K'te soon reassured me, however. He told me that in the eyes of his tribe, his cousin died an honorable death, defending himself against the Remant's minion. It was part of his Path.

I asked K'te what he meant by that, and he told me that his tribe believed that every person had a Path to follow in life, which was connected to the Force. It was only with proper focus and attention that one could perceive whether one was following this Path correctly. If the omens and signs it provided were followed, it would eventually lead the person to becoming one with the Force - the ultimate goal of existence.

I told K'te the story of my family's separation, and of the Holocrons I had found and my feeling that there was something I was searching for, but had not yet discovered what it was.

"This is your Path," K'te said. "You feel the significance of the Force."

After many more hours of conversation, it finally came time to decide what to do about the Remnant of Kun.

"He expects me to return with proof of your death," I told K'te. "If I don't return, he will surely hunt me down and murder me."

K'te nodded. "The Remnant is indeed powerful with the Force. However, those that follow the Dark Side are easily influenced. Take this," he said, offering me a metal object.

"What is it?" I said, turning the object over in my hands.

"It is an ancient artifact of my people," K'te said, "A lightsaber from the old generations, hundreds of years ago."

"This is the sort of weapon I saw your cousin fight with," I said.

"Yes," K'te answered. "Only those sensitive to the Force may use them. They are very powerful. This one no longer functions, but it has great significance among my tribe. The Remnant knows this, and knows I would never willingly give it up."

"And yet you have," I said.

K'te nodded. "There is more to the Force than brute strength and feats of arms. There is cunning and mental strength. That is what my cousin failed to realize. I have no chance to destroy the Remnant - no one in my tribe does. However, by convincing him that you have killed me, I can defeat him."

"Defeat him?" I asked, "But he will not be harmed. He will continue as before, murdering and ruining lives."

K'te nodded again. "This is true. But the Remnant seeks the power of the Dark Side. Each such deed brings him more power. To deny him a victory such as this is the same as defeat. Followers of the Dark Side must feed their powers with evil, lest they weaken from starving their anger. You will give him this lightsaber, and I will return to my home. The Remnant will weaken, and another may yet have a chance to defeat him for good."

Thus agreed, we both packed up our campsite and went our separate ways, K'te setting off on foot to the South, while I mounted my speederbike and departed toward the Jedi temple ruins.

The Remnant was eager to see me. I could sense the greed in him immediately. He asked me hurriedly, "Is it done?"

I nodded, and offered him the ancient lightsaber.

The Remnant eyed it suspiciously. "This is an artifact of the old Republic. You got this from the Twi'lek?"

I nodded again, silently.

The Remnant inhaled, then raised his hands. "It is seething with the spirits of the ancient Jedi. Do not give this to me."

I put the lightsaber away in my pack, then looked back up at the Remnant.

"You have done well. Once again, I reward you." He handed me a small leather pouch. I could sense immediately that it contained a Holocron. "Now go. Get out of my sight."

I did as he asked, heading back for Temple City as fast as I could. My heart was light and my spirits raised. I felt that I had taken a significant step along my Path, and that my previous encounter with the Remnant of Exar Kun had been redeemed.

I didn't know if I would ever see K'te again, but I hoped that he found great praise among his tribe.

The Return of the Remnant

2004-10-26T21:51:00.000-04:00

The early days of Temple City were tumultuous times. We had done extensive planning and we knew that it would take a certain number of inhabitants to keep the town self-sufficient. If we didn't have a population that was big enough, it would fail. On the other hand, if it grew too quickly, it might exhaust itself and also fail.

Altor, Readro, Spiderwell, Spydey, Brannoncyll and I all spent a considerable amount of time recruiting people to join us. It was a lot to ask of people to move to a completely new town - indeed, in some cases, a whole new planet - but we were able to take advantage of many interplanetary forms of communication. We were able to locate many people of a like mind as ourselves, who were looking to escape the influence of the Empire - not necessarily to oppose it directly, but only to be able to exert their own independence.

That is not to say that we had no citizens loyal to the Empire. We found many who were committed to the Imperial principles and who were looking to reside on a planet that offered the kinds of opportunities that could be found on Dantooine.

We accepted nearly everyone who wished to join us, as long as they agreed to abide by our guidelines and to work with the rest of us for the mutual benefit of our city. Personal politics generally gave way to the betterment of the greater good.

For a while, I was not sure that we would make it. Our growth was slow to get started. Once it got some inertia, however, it took on a life of its own and could not be stopped. It was not long before we had progressed our little economic and political unit far enough that we could afford such improvements as our own shuttleport, parking garage, cloning facilities and a medical center, in addition to such luxuries as a large cantina, numerous gardens and employment terminals. All of this carried a momentum of its own, helping to draw merchants and entrepreneurs to town.

As promised, I held regular elections, but no one ever ran against me. I hoped this was because they were satisfied with the way things were going. I did my best to listen to people's wishes and to shape Temple City to everyone's satisfaction.

In the meantime, I had grown quite proficient at the art of Fencing, but had grown rather bored with the repetition involved in maintaining my skills. I found myself concentrating on other pursuits. I learned to play music, and spent a great deal of time in Coronet on Corellia, where there is a famous cantina, filled wall to wall with all kinds of entertainers. I spent many nights there, losing myself in the music and participating in all manners of performances.

Even that could not hold my interest for long, however. The one constant was my vehicle sales business. I had meanwhile expanded and now had shops on two planets - Tatooine and Dantooine, in Temple City. Business was booming, and I had trouble keeping my inventory stocked. Spiderwell was doing equally well, and contributed greatly to the financial stability of the city, becoming its best recruiter and its singlemost generous investor.

I had little left to learn about Fencing, or music for that matter, but I didn't feel any closer to understanding the mysterious messages I had received from the Holocrons. I had money and, as Mayor of Temple City, a fair amount of power, yet I felt empty inside, as if something was missing, some integral part of my identity that I could not locate.

Not knowing what else to do, one night I jumped on my swoop bike and drove up to the Jedi temple ruins to think. I found myself sitting on an ancient, fallen column and staring at the ground, thinking about nothing and everything at once.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me. I hadn't heard anyone approach, but all of a sudden I was certain there was something there.

"Hello," I said, cautiously.

"Good evening," a voice replied. I recognized it immediately. It was the Remnant of Kun, who I had met while I was here with Gerrvin, so many months ago.

I turned to face him. His gaunt face stared back at me, his eyes dark.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I am here. What more would you know?"

He continued to stare at me. "Another scourge has appeared. Are you prepared to aid me again?"

I considered. He could only mean another being like the young Twi'lek Gerrvin, Spiderwell and I had encountered. I shuddered inside to think of what had been done to him. Yet here, perhaps, was a chance to redeem my actions. If there was another like that young one, perhaps he could tell me where they came from, who they were, what the strange, glowing swords that they weilded were called. And, most importantly, why the Remnant wanted them dead.

I nodded slowly. "I will help you."

"Yesss," the Remnant hissed, "You will."

He gave me instructions on how to find the "scourge," and sent me on my way, demanding that I return before morning.

It was not hard to find the man. He was next to a small campfire a few kilometers off, and made no efforts to conceal his existence. I drove my swoop quite close to his campsite before shutting it down and disembarking.

The man was already on his feet, his weapon at the ready but not yet ignited. I stopped and surveyed him. He was a Twi'lek, no older than the last I had met. His skin was tinted orange and his lekku were drawn back behind his head. He looked at me with dark, intelligent eyes, and waited.

I raised my hand slowly. "I just want to talk," I said.

"The Remnant sent you," he answered, without moving his weapon.

I nodded. "He told me where to find you. But I am not here to do his dirty work."

The Twi'lek seemed to consider, looking me over. Then, gradually, his weapon dropped to his side in his hand. He seemed to relax, and I followed suit.

He bade me come closer, and we sat down together near his campfire. "What is it that brought you here?" he asked me.

"My name is Maast Lofor. I have questions," I said, "many, many questions."

The Twi'lek nodded. "My name is K'te. I will do my best to answer."

And thus began my first true lesson in the Force.

Temple City is Born

2004-10-24T22:03:00.000-04:00

As it was, the last straw was the droid invasion of the city of Bestine. Many of our partners were there, and only a few escaped unscathed. The droideka assault was an intolerable affront of our autonomy. The Empire claimed it was necessary to regain control from the Tusken Raiders, who had become problematic as of late, but many eyewitnesses saw the droidekas gunning down as many innocent citizens as they did Sand People. They were not programmed for discretion on that mission.

We were fed up, to say the least, but our plans were already underway anyhow. Initial reports returned from Dantooine were very promising. There was a lot of open land, just waiting to be developed. I enlisted Brannoncyll Frost, one of our senior partners, to accompany me on an official scouting trip. We scoured a great amount of the areas that Altor and Readro told us were promising, and soon narrowed things down to a few key potential sites. A few weeks later, we assembled all of the senior members and set out with a crew to lay the foundations of our new City Hall.

Construction went very smoothly. We were relatively far from the nearest settlement (the small collection of buildings enclosed by a barricade, carrying no other name than the Dantooine Mining Outpost). The speederbike trek to the building site was long, but it could be endured. We would have a shuttleport when the time was right, but for now we decided it was better to build the more essential structures to completion first, for our own protection.

City Hall was erected a few hundred meters from the shore of a small crystalline lake in northeastern Dantooine. The new GDC headquarters was built just adjacent, and Spiderwell had his own crew building a large house opposite, forming three sides of a city center. Once construction on City Hall was complete, the GDC partners began arriving and setting up their own residences.

There were two important questions to be answered before we got any further. The first was what we would call our settlement; the second was who would lead it.

The first question was one that was heavily debated. In the end, everyone was able to agree on a fitting title for our town: Temple City, in honor of the ancient Jedi temple ruins, located only a few kilometers away. The name indicated no particular allegiance to any one person or group. All manners of Jedi had trained at the temple, centuries ago. All manners of people came to see its ruins - pilgrims, tourists, Imperials, and others. So would our City also forge its identity.

The second question answered itself, in a sense. The question of leadership essentially fell to a decision between Spiderwell and myself. The other partners were ready to do their part to contribute to our city/state and corporation, but they were too involved in their own matters to be able to take on the responsibility of leadership.

Spider and I were both extremely occupied with our own business efforts as well, but neither of us was willing to relinquish supervision of what we had built to another, less trusted party.

In the end, I volunteered to take the job, at least until the City was established. Spiderwell agreed, pledging his full support, financially and otherwise. I declared that I would be an appointed Mayor only until we were settled and established. At that point, there would be democratic elections and if the citizens of Temple City decided it was time for a replacement, I would oblige them willingly.

With the foundations of a great metropolis set firmly in the soil of Dantooine, we began our efforts to recruit settlers to our new town.

A City on the Hill

2004-10-22T23:13:00.000-04:00

With our corporation grown to a sizeable population of partners, it was at about this time that Spiderwell and I seriously began to consider taking things to the next level. It had been clear to both of us from the beginning that, although credits would get us far, there were other things that could get us further.

Spider was acquainted with the mayor of Mos Nox, and had been impressed by the influence he had. At that time, "Nox," as most called it, was not the bustling metropolis it is today. It was still a small town, unsure of itself and its direction. Yet the mayor of the town was widely known and respected, and managed to accomplish all manners of things through his station as a politician.

Some of our members had commented quite early on that going this route was the way to ultimate success, and both Spider and I, as the two senior partners, agreed in principle. However, we knew that it was a matter of timing and would require skillful implementation, not to mention lots of preparation. It was now that we began to consider preparing.

We were a solid group, but we didn't yet have the numbers required to really branch off on our own. We were fairly independent as it was, but in truth we survived by making use of many of the facilities of Mos Nox and the nearby capitol of Bestine. We used Nox's shuttleport for transportation and we discussed our business deals over drinks in Bestine's cantina. We were not fully driven by our own power.

Spiderwell and I both envisioned capitalizing on a combination of politics, government and commerce. Right now, we had a corporation - it was time to turn that corporation into its next evolutionary identity:

A city/state.

As things stood, we were fully subject to the Imperial regulations and laws of the Bestine district. There was a system of power in place that prevented anyone in the region from rising above the level that was allowed by the Imperial officials. It was a glass ceiling. As long as you followed their rules, you could live comfortably, but you would never break through.

We knew that even if we found a place with more favorable legislation, we would never truly be free to achieve our potential unless we were in full control of our destiny. In short, we had to make the rules.

There would be a city/state, founded by us and governed by us. We would create its foundations and its identity. We would determine how all manners of business would be done within its borders. It would grant us freedom and independence.

With this in mind, I enlisted our closest comerades, Altor Carnaise and Readro Amec, to begin the search for a suitable location. We needed a place that was wild enough to have unclaimed, even unwanted territory, yet still populous enough to grant contact with the rest of the galaxy. We would need to strike a balance between isolation and civilization.

It wasn't long before they reported their findings to me. I listened to them with great apprehension. Their planet of choice was a ponderous one.

I still had disturbing dreams of the Remnant of Exar Kun, even weeks after the incident with the mysterious young Twi'lek. The violet plains and the crumbling ruins of the Jedi temple haunted and enticed me simultaneously.

No matter what I did, though, it seemed there was nothing I could do.

My destiny seemed inexorably tied to the planet Dantooine.

The Art of the Blade

2004-10-19T19:04:00.000-04:00

It was some time before I could bring myself to make use of the Sith Holocron given to me by the Remnant of Kun. It wasn't just the circumstances under which I had acquired it, though those were daunting enough.

The object itself was profoundly disturbing. It emanated a powerful sense of evil, as if it were a thing that was alive and waiting to strike.

In the end, though, my curiosity won me over. I had to know what it would tell me.

What it said was this: "The path to ultimate power lies through strength and control. He who is strong enough to fight with one arm behind his back will become powerful indeed."

I frowned when this message darted through my mind. There was no mention of enlightment this time, only power. The message was different. Would heeding it lead me in a different direction? I considered. So far, following the instructions that the previous Holocrons had given me had not led me in any obvious direction, or awarded me any clear enlightenment. Following this one's instructions couldn't logically be much more dangerous.

But what did it mean - to fight with one arm behind one's back?

It was several days before I understood the answer. I was leaning against one of the columns of the shuttleport in Bestine, when I saw two men undertake a friendly duel against each other, to test (or show off) their skill at fencing. One of them pinned his left arm behind his back while fighting with the other.

Suddenly, I understood. As I watched the blades of the two men flash and whirl at each other with deadly precision and marveled at the speed of their footsteps, I knew that the time had come for me to learn to defend myself. I would learn the art of Fencing, though not to gain power, as the Holocron had suggested. Just watching the two friends duel each other in the dusty streets of Bestine had convinced me that it would be an effective way to defend myself. It seemed more accessible than they mystical Teras Kasi martial art that I had seen Gerrvin use, as well. I found a trainer who was offering lessons in the town of Mos Nox, nearby our home, so I paid a few hundred credits to learn the basics of the Fencing fighting style.

I had meanwhile established a sizeable bank account, thanks in no small part to the large donation the woman I met in Bestine had given me. Though I had become quite adept at creating droids, I found that there wasn't a strong market for it, and it didn't suit my technical inclinations. I still preferred to build speeders. Though they were complicated machines in and of themselves, their complexity was nothing compared to droids. I admired the simplicity of the powerful landspeeders, and decided to stick to what I knew best as my primary source of income, at least for now. Anyway, business had been picking up - I was able to hire a few clerks to do my selling for me, and I set up a permanent merchant's tent right outside Mos Nox. I had mining installations in the ground in several places, collecting the raw materials I needed, to keep my costs down.

As I didn't have to worry much about money anymore, I was able to travel more and concentrate fully on developing my Fencing skills. I found it difficult to find sparring partners, so I concentrated on fencing against the creatures roaming the outskirts of cities, the pests that nobody would miss. I became particularly fond of those large beasts called Pikets that roam the plains of Dantooine - they were large enough to present a challenge, yet not fierce enough to really hurt me.

I also invested in a suit of composite armor, which greatly decreased the pain I had to undergo while working on my skills. Spiderwell helped me often with his medical skills as well. I think he was happy to see me finally learning to defend myself. It's a brutal galaxy, after all - my experience in being separated from my family taught me that, if nothing else.

My thoughts still turned to them every day, though the rage had subsided and turned to a sort of driven determinism. I didn't know how learning Fencing could possibly lead me to my family, but something in my gut told me it was true. The Holocron was a significant object, one that demanded respect. I intended to follow my instincts until the day they led me astray.

So far, that day had not yet come.

The Remnant of Kun

2004-10-14T08:59:00.000-04:00

I looked at the man standing in front of me, trying to determine something about his nature. Spiderwell had told me that he was a warrior of great power, but there was nothing about him in particular that exuded any exceptional strength. He was a lean man, muscular but thin, with long, brown hair tied back in a ponytail. In his right hand, he carried a small blade that curved around the outside of his knuckles. Beyond that, he carried no weapons.

Spiderwell noticed my hesitancy. "Don't worry, buddy," he said, "Gerrvin can handle it."

Spiderwell's recent message to me, requesting that I contact him as soon as possible, had sparked a flurry of activity. Spider, always the sort who learns the things not always meant to be known, had heard of a mystical site on the planet Dantooine, where the ancient Jedi once trained. There was a temple there that had fallen into ruins. It was now said that one of the Remnants of Kun resided there and would reward greatly those who did his bidding.

The trouble was that Dantooine was a very dangerous planet, with lots of nasty creatures roaming the wild. It was also likely that, if the Kun follower allowed us to speak with him at all, he would demand that we accomplish some difficult tasks for him. Neither Spiderwell nor I were much use in a fight at this point in our lives - he was an accomplished Doctor and I was merely an Artisan. We knew we had to recruit some help if we were to investigate this rumor.

Spiderwell immediately contacted Gerrvin, an acquaintance of his who had helped us both out a few times in the past. In his earlier days, Gerrvin had been a smuggler and had been able to obtain things that the everyday citizen could not hope to get his hands on. I had purchased a crate of Moun Gold, a variety of spice that provides great enhancement to thought processes. I had expected this to help me be a more effective Image Designer while I was still pursuing that profession. It did, but the side effects were less than pleasant and I later gave up using it. Still, Gerrvin was able to provide me with the stuff when I needed it, as it was a banned substance and technically illegal to possess. If any Imperial officer found it on me, there could be trouble.

I had never known Gerrvin to be a warrior, though, which is why I was surprised when Spiderwell showed up at the starport in Bestine with Gerrvin in tow. What's more, I knew that Gerrvin was at least partially aligned with the Empire, having done a few favors for them in the past. This made me a little uncomfortable, though I knew Gerrvin to be a decent person. I just hoped that he would live up to Spider's expectations.

The trip to Dantooine was long and expensive, and took us first to the planet Corellia, where we stopped over in Tyrena before departing for the remote Mining Outpost on Dantooine. Along the way, I learned that Gerrvin was a master of the Teras Kasi martial art. This explained a lot to me - I had heard it said that a Teras Kasi could bring a full-grown Ronto to its knees with a single blow. Having seen Rontos and understanding their size and girth, I wondered if this could be anything but illustrative hyperbole.

The Mining Outpost was small, consisting of little more than a few buildings and a landing platform, surrounded by a protective barricade. We wasted little time in climbing aboard our speederbikes and heading north.

The location of the rumored temple ruins was a good distance away, and the trip allowed us to take in the sights of the local environment. Dantooine fascinated all of us with its strange, purple grasslands and odd vegetation. We encountered a few hostile creatures along the way, but none of them had the pace nor mettle to keep up with our speedy vehicles. We continued unhindered.

After several kilometers, Gerrvin signaled a halt and reigned in the throttle on his bike. He dismounted and switched the machine off, pointing ahead into the gloomy woods.

Through the trees, I saw an eerie, flickering light. It glowed with a mysterious hue, seemingly all colors at once, yet none at all. I looked at Gerrvin questioningly. My Wookiee friend Spiderwell growled.

Gerrvin nodded. "That's him." He knelt down and opened his pack, removing several pieces of armor, which he quickly donned with expert, precise movements. The armor was beaten and worn, but clearly very strong. With a full suit of armor covering every recognizable feature, Gerrvin suddenly looked like the warrior Spiderwell had indicated him to be.

"Let's go," he said, starting forward.

The Remnant of Kun was a frightening looking man. He stood near a strange campfire as we approached, warming his hands and staring intently into its flames. I saw now that this was responsible for the strange light I had seen.

Gerrvin motioned for us to wait, then approached him cautiously. He stopped and bowed a few feet from the fire pit, and they spoke in hushed tones. I could not make out what it was they said, but when Gerrvin turned back to us, he nodded.

"He will accept our offer to do his bidding," he told us.

"Do his work?" I protested, "We're not here to slave for him."

Gerrvin put up his hand. "Call it work then. In any case, it's the same. We take it or we leave it."

"What do we have to do?" Spiderwell asked.

Gerrvin told us. It seemed that before the Remnant would allow himself to begin to trust us, we had to prove our mettle as competent warriors. There was a beast some kilometers away from the temple ruins that needed to be dispatched.

The conquering of this beast confirmed to me that Gerrvin truly was a Master of the Teras Kasi arts, and that this singular fighting style was indeed powerful. Spiderwell and I had barely dismounted from our speederbikes before the great lizard was already breathing its last gasping breath. We glanced at each other, almost unnerved by the power Gerrvin had demonstrated.

When we returned to the campsite, just outside the old Jedi temple ruins, Gerrvin once again spoke with the strange Remnant of Kun. Suddenly, he motioned us forward.

"You have shown me that you are somewhat capable of survival on this harsh world," the man said to all of us. "Perhaps you may be of some use."

"Tell us your bidding," Gerrvin intoned.

The man nodded grimly. "I do not reside on this forsaken world for my own entertainment, you know. I have a purpose here." He motioned at the distant, broken columns of the Jedi temple ruins. "The great Kun once did his work here. This place held great power for him. I am here to re-learn that which he knew. There is power beyond your imagination, waiting to be unleashed." He looked at us. "Unfortunately, there are those that would interfere with my purpose. I am beset by non-believers, heathens and thugs."

"What would you have us do?" Gerrvin asked.

"To the East, you will find a cloaked being, no taller than yourself. I have seen it roaming the plains not an hour ago. Dispatch this being with all haste. I do not believe that you will last very long against this creature, but you will buy me time at least. Go now."

Gerrvin nodded and turned, leading the two of us away with him. We were off and speeding to the East before I could protest.

I switched on my comlink and hailed Spiderwell. "Do you think this is a good idea? I'm starting to have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't worry," Spider's voice answered me above the rushing wind, "I trust him."

"You do?" I said, incredulous, "That crazy old man?"

"No," Spider answered, "Gerrvin."

Before long, Gerrvin called us to a halt once again. The three of us dismounted and surveyed the horizon ahead. Dantooine's distant sun was just setting, and the outline of a figure could be seen, just up a hill.

"There it is," Gerrvin said, "Let's go."

Wilfully, he advanced, brandishing his knuckler. I followed just behind, with Spiderwell at the rear, his med-packs at the ready.

When we neared the figure, it turned and revealed its face. I saw that it was a young Twi'lek male, with a pale, yellowish skin tone and bright, blue eyes. He couldn't have been more than 16 years old.

Gerrvin hesitated. The Twi'lek looked at him calmly, then said, "The Remnant sent you, did he not?"

Gerrvin nodded.

The Twi'lek sighed, then pulled back his robe and produced a short, cylindrical metal object in his right hand. "Then I see I have no choice," he said. His thumb flicked a button and the object flared to life with a bright yellow glow. A long saber extended from the cylinder and hummed with an electrical crackle. "Do what you must," the Twi'lek said.

Gerrvin wasted no more time. He was on the man like a flash, extending his arms in a strange configuration that seemed like it would be an awkward movement, yet sent the Twi'lek stumbling backward on his heels as if assaulted by a massive force. He did not fall, however, but came rushing back, swinging the strange, glowing sword madly.

It was clear that the Twi'lek was not well trained in the use of this weapon. Gerrvin easily side-stepped his lunge and sent the man sprawling to the ground. He pounced and a flurry of blows was unleashed from his deadly hands.

Only several moments later, the Twi'lek was defeated. He lay broken and bleeding on the violet grass. Spiderwell bent to check his pulse, then looked at me grimly. He was gone.

"It is done," Gerrvin said. "Let us return."

The Remnant was astonished to hear what we had done. He had not believed us capable of it. With great pleasure, he gave Gerrvin a leather bag, and gripped his shoulder tightly, grinning.

Though I had not laid a hand on the Twi'lek myself, I felt a terrible wash of guilt rush through me. The man had seemed resigned to his fate, had even seemed to know it was coming, yet I could not justify the actions we had all been a part of. I sensed something evil about this Remnant, and I could not bring myself to believe that killing the Twi'lek in his name had been the right thing.

Gerrvin was grim, as always, but did not seem displeased. Spiderwell's Wookiee features were difficult to read. I knew I would have to discuss this with him at great length, when we were alone.

Gerrvin opened the leather sack the Remnant had given him and drew out three glowing objects. They were three small, identical red pyramids, each no bigger than a small stone. Gerrvin handed one to each of us, a slight smile cracking his chiseled features.

"What is it?" Spider asked.

"This," Gerrvin said, "Is a Holocron."

I shook my head. "This is no Holocron. I've seen a Holocron - I've held two of them in my hand. Holocrons are blue cubes - this is a red pyramid." I examined the object closely. It was covered in runes similar to those on the blue Holocrons I had come across previously. There was something familiar here, despite the obvious differences...

"These," Gerrvin explained, "are of the Sith."

"The Sith?" I asked.

He nodded. "Very ancient, very rare. And very powerful. Be careful with them."

I held the Sith Holocron up closer to my face, trying to discern more of its intricate design.

I wondered what it would hold in store for me.

Spiderwell's Cousin

2004-10-13T09:48:00.000-04:00

"Nice place you've got here," the man said to me, his features bent into a wry smile. He had the look of a man with confidence, who was always prepared to move at the slightest threat, but nevertheless exuded a calm nature that relaxed those around him.

I nodded. "Do I know you?"

He chuckled and said, "No, but I know you."

I cocked my head at him, not understanding.

The man leaned in and grinned at me, then said under his breath, "I'm Spiderwell's cousin." He stood upright again, pleased with himself.

"His cousin?" I said, not believing a word of it. This man was clearly a human being, while my friend Spiderwell was a smallish, alabaster Wookiee. Genetically, it didn't seem possible. The human was obviously up to more than he was choosing to reveal.

"In a manner of speaking," he answered me. "I'm his man on the inside. His eyes and ears. I'm the guy who Spider sends to do the things that Spider doesn't actually do, if you follow me." He winked at me again and extended his hand. "The name's Spydey Ryder. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Now I'd appreciate it if you'd let me into this little group of yours."

That is how Spydey Ryder came to be part of the Galactic Domination Corporation. Several weeks after my chance encounter with the woman who gave me my second Holocron, Spiderwell and I decided to finally move on our plans to form an association of like-minded individuals who could help each other work to achieve their common goals.

We formed a legal corporation under the laws of the greater Bestine district of Tatooine (which, admittedly, were rather loose - Tatooine is not a planet where legal order reigns supreme, to say the least). It was called the GDC somewhat out of irony, though we did intend to grow our respective businesses until they were formidable economic forces.

At the very start, our group consisted of only the two of us and a somewhat pesky but enthusiastic individual named Dunn Dakari. We soon met others who wanted to join us, namely Readro Amec, Altor Carnaise and Brannoncyll Frost.

Now, with the addition of Spiderwell's "cousin," Spydey Ryder, we had enough members to solidify our little band. Spider and I teamed up and built a new headquarters for the corporation, nicknamed it the GDC HQ and set up shop inside. I volunteered to take on the responsibility of being named leader of our group, though I made few decisions entirely on my own.

Throughout all of this, the formation of our corporation held only a fraction of my real attention. I was not able to keep my mind from drifting to the Holocron that the woman had given me as a gift in Bestine that night, and the message that it had given me when I held it in my hands the next day:

"You have progressed along the path of your personal destiny. In order to find the enlightenment you seek, you must learn to create companions for those in need."

The message had drifted through my mind like a soft breeze.

Create companions for those in need? Whatever could that mean?

A few days of quiet contemplation had led me to the decision that the only way that I would personally be capable of creating any kind of companions for those in need would be to engineer droids - semi-autonomous robots that can assist people with a multitude of tasks. With that in mind, I spent most of my free time during the formation of the GDC teaching myself how to build droids. By the time our HQ was completed, I had progressed to a level of skill that allowed me to construct any type of droid imaginable, in only a short time.

I felt satisfied with this achievement, knowing that I had learned something that could easily support me if my vehicle sales business should ever fail. But I felt no closer to enlightenment.

I would not feel that I had progressed until one fateful day when I received a message from Spiderwell on my personal data terminal...

"Maast - contact me immediately, I've learned something important..."

A Chance Encounter

2004-10-12T21:09:00.000-04:00

The Image Design profession, which I now had a solid handle on, had suddenly lost all of its appeal.

The challenge of learning the trade had kept me interested, but now that I had risen to the top of the ranks, I found that I was simply bored with it. There was nothing more to learn, no more challenges to overcome.

What's more, it didn't pay very well. I was able to charge about 10,000 credits for a full alteration, but customers were not easy to find. I was getting sore legs standing around in Anchorhead, hawking my services to passersby. I didn't see how this career was going to take me anywhere.

Because of my disinterest in image designing, I had meanwhile returned to my mechanical endeavors, and had apprenticed under a few masters of that trade so that I was able to learn how to build my own vehicles. It was a proud day when I crafted my very own example of the sturdy, if common and a bit slow, X-34 Landspeeder. Here, I realized, was an opportunity to make some real money. With a few modifications, I knew I could build some vehicles that others would be very interested in buying.

It may sound to some like I am unduly focused on the attainment of wealth, but the fact of the matter is that I was intimately focused on determining the meaning of the strange, blue cube that had sent me on the image designer path and had spoken to me of Enlightenment. In order to do that, I needed money. I needed to make money in order to have the time to be able to follow what I felt in my soul to be the path of my destiny.

So I began to sell vehicles. I started with a few that I was able to build myself, improving them with the help of the public crafting stations outside the cantina in Bestine. I would offer the ownership deeds to anyone who was looking to buy one. After doing some investigation into what the competition was charging, I found a price scheme that seemed to work. My small business was off and running.

One day, while selling a deed to a friendly Trandoshan musician from Talus, I noticed a dejected woman sitting against one of the outer walls of the Bestine starport. After I finished my business with the musician, I approached her.

Despite her depressed state, she was quite willing to talk with me. I learned that she had become disenchanted with everything she knew. She told me that life seemed like a game to her, and that she no longer had any fun playing it.

Of course I was concerned as to what she might mean by this statement, but she assured me that she was not going to do anything rash, but was only going to join a recluse group she had heard about in a secluded area on the planet Dathomir. This group required that its devotees rid themselves of all worldly possessions so that they might fully concentrate on their efforts to find the true nature of their spiritual calling.

The woman's plan rang true with me. I understood this to be a noble endeavor, and I offered to help her in any way that I could. She brightened at that, and told me that she had been waiting for someone to come along with just that kind of offer. She asked if I could spare the credits to purchase a seat on a transport to the distant planet of Dathomir.

I considered. The fare was quite high, but it did seem that the cause was just. I was hesitant that the whole thing might be a scam, but something about the woman seemed to reassure me that she was trustworthy.

I smiled and handed her the necessary credits. She stood up and bowed, thanking me profusely.

"Here," she said, offering me a satchel. "These are my possessions. I'd like you to have them."

I took the satchel and opened it cautiously. It felt quite strange to take ownership of something I knew to be everything a person had in the world.

To my amazement, I saw a familiar blue glow emanating from the bag.

"I thought it might speak to me," the woman said, "but it was silent. Perhaps it will speak to you, who are so kind."

I reached into the satchel and pulled out the source of the blue glimmer - a cube, seemingly identical to the one that had suddenly appeared in my own pack several weeks before.

"I've seen these before," I told her. "Do you know what it is?"

She nodded. "It is called a Holocron. Some say it is a guide to finding a path to the Force."

"The Force?" I asked her. "What is that?"

Thus began a long conversation that lasted long into the night. The woman explained to me what she knew of the Force, a mysterious energy field that surrounds and fills all living things, binding them together. She had once met a hermit out beyond the Dune Sea, who had mentioned a few things about it to her. She did not know much more than that, but had many ideas about personal destiny and how the Force might tie into it, and these were subjects which captivated my interest.

Finally, as dawn approached, she told me it was time for her to depart. As we both rose, I suddenly noticed the odd weight of the satchel she had given me. There was more in the bag. I looked inside, and was astounded to find a stack of high-value monetary units worth 500,000 credits.

I looked up at her, amazed.

The woman shrugged, and only told me she was not permitted to take it with her.

"But why did you ask me for the shuttle fare?" I asked, perplexed.

"The elders I seek only allow those to join who have been aided by the selfless gift of another in order to make the journey. I apologize for keeping this from you, but it was necessary. I would not have otherwise been allowed acceptance."

With a smile and a wave, she boarded the transport bound for Dathomir. As I waved back to her, I wondered yet again at what the future held in store for me, and what strange things this new Holocron might have to say...

Humble Beginnings, Part Three

2004-10-11T00:55:00.000-04:00

One does not master any profession without much practice, much less a complicated and intricate profession like that of Image Designer. The details of such skills are only learned through constant repetition and hours of concentration.

I soon discovered that it was much more beneficial to have a practice partner rather than to hone my skills on my own humble appearance. I began looking for people who were interested in working as subjects for my craft.

Those I initially found were helpful, but usually required payment in the form of Imperial credits, something I rarely had many of. I grew weary of this and considered going back to making deliveries of repaired items, though in truth, I loathed the thought.

It was therefore a welcome stroke of luck that I happened to run into a friendly wookiee by the name of Spiderwell, who lived just outside the city of Mos Nox. He was more than happy to help me learn the Image Design trade, as he was dabbling in it himself. Even after he gave it up to pursue his medical studies full time, he still did me the favor of allowing me to practice my skills on him. Wookiees are particularly challenging when it comes to Image Design, as they are covered head to foot with fur and have very subtle features.

I spent a lot of time with Spiderwell while learning the trade, and subsequently we became fast friends. We were full of grand ideas in those days, of how we would form a corporation and become the greatest economic power in the galaxy...

For the time being, though, it was enough to progress in my skills so that I was worthy of the title Master Image Designer.

Part of me expected something significant to take place once my goal had been achieved, but there was nothing except the satisfaction of having risen to the top of the field.

I was confident, however, that I was truly on the path to Enlightenment - whatever that might prove to be.

Humble Beginnings, Part Two

2004-10-10T17:29:00.000-04:00

My inital wanderings on this planet were random and ill-conceived. I had never been on my own before, and had no idea how to properly take care of myself. I had to learn everything from the beginning, all on my own.

Putting the meager technical skills passed on to me by my father, I was able to make a small amount of credits by tinkering and repairing devices for paying customers. It took a great while, but eventually I learned many more skills and became an Artisan of some reknown.

Before long I was approached by a politician from northern Tatooine, who told me that if I agreed to move to his city, he would provide me with my own house and monetary assistance. As I had no residence and spent my nights under the stars in the desert, the offer was too generous to resist. I soon found myself the resident of a small village in northeastern Tatooine, and the owner of a secure, if rather generic-looking and small house.

The benefits of this arrangement soon proved themselves to be meager indeed. The town was a city of ghosts, of people that I never saw or spoke to. I was alone among hundreds of houses and buildings. What's more, the mayor of this town, who approached me to reside there, was rude and unfriendly. I found myself spending less and less time at my own house.

One day, while running a few parts from Mos Oasis to Mos Entha, I reached in my pack for my delivery and to my surprise, I found a strange, glowing object. It was a cube, no larger than my fist, and radiating a strange, blue light. I had no idea where it had come from.

When I returned home for the night, I pulled the cube out again and examined it more closely. I now saw that it strange runes inscribed on all sides, and that it pulsated ever so slightly, as if instilled with some strange power just waiting to be unleashed.

But how to unleash that power? And how to use it?

No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than the cube suddenly flared to life. Blue light poured out of it and nearly blinded me with its intensity. In my mind, I heard a voice. It spoke to me softly, but clearly.

"In order to find the enlightenment you seek," it said, "You must learn the ways of the Image Designer."

I considered this. An Image Designer, I knew, was a person who was able to assist another in changing their appearance. On my home planet of Rori, they were often employed by the government in the intelligence service, to alter the appearance of their agents. It was not a profession that I had ever considered for myself.

According to this mysterious artifact, however, it seemed that learning this profession might help me find enlightenment. What could that mean?

In my mind, at that point in my life, there was only one possible answer. Enlightenment meant discovering the fate of my family.

I resolved that I would become a Master Image Designer, if it was the last thing I did.

Humble Beginnings, Part One

2004-10-10T14:52:00.000-04:00

As these Chronicles begin the record of my life after it has already begun (indeed, a great deal later), I believe it might be informative to record a brief summation of my existence thus far, so that all of the relevant historical points are included.

I was born in a small community on the planet Rori, to middle-class parents who worked hard to earn what they had. My father was a shipwright and my mother was a lobbyist - an unlikely pairing, but one that functioned better than most of those others that I knew.

My childhood was relatively uneventful, punctuated only by the usual adventures of youth and the common mishaps of adolescence.

My father always intended that I take up his trade, to work as a designer of interplanetary merchant-class craft that traveled the entire galaxy. Though the sleek design and powerful engines that propelled my father's ships were intriguing, I never had much interest in life beyond Rori. Space was a vast, empty place where there was little to do but freeze to death.

All of that was forcibly changed when my father declared that we would take a vacation on Naboo. His performance at work had earned him the right to take a Rori month off and travel where he pleased in one of his own ships. Since birth, he had always dreamed of seeing the great palace of Theed, so there was little I or my mother could do to dissuade him from this idea. As I was not yet of a fully grown age, I had no choice but to go along.

Halfway to Naboo, the hyperdrive on the ship failed, and we found ourselves bouncing down from light speed directly into Imperial restricted space.

Without hesitation or warning, our ship was fired upon. The resulting blast sent me careening across my cabin, where my head collided with the sharp corner of my bedframe and knocked me unconscious.

When I awoke, I found myself face to face with an Imperial medical officer. He explained that I had been transferred to an Imperial transport and was to be offloaded soon. My questions about my parents were avoided and never directly answered.

After a few hours of waiting in a featureless cabin that was little more than four walls, I was informed that the transport had entered orbit around our destination planet. I was to disembark immediately.

I was given a CDEF blaster for my own protection, and shuttled down to the planet. I stepped off the gangplank and watched the ship take off, leaving me alone on a strange planet, with no knowledge as to the fate of my family.

As I later discovered, I had been offloaded onto the planet Tatooine, a desert world that I had never heard of, in the city of Mos Eisley. And such began the next great stage of my life.

It Begins

2004-10-09T13:08:00.000-04:00

After so much has transpired in my life, it has become apparent to me that a record of my actions is needed, so that others may learn from my mistakes and benefit from knowing of my achievements.

With this in mind, I begin the chronicles of my life.