Lightsaber Creation Story
If you are reading this topic, I welcome you to witness one of the penultimate tasks that will be required of Jedi Hunter Syhpoc Rilkel as he progresses towards the rank of Krath Knight. It is my hope to, in this run-on, work alongside this member as he demonstrates his capabilities of creating a truly unique piece of Character Fiction that will set the tone for the character Syphoc throughout the Equite ranks.
I ask that only Syphoc and I post on this forum, interuptions/other posts will be deleted if they do happen to pop up. If you would like to leave words of support or offer insight to the Journeyman, I advise you to contact him via e-mail or mIRC.
Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!
Krath Pontifex Braecen Kaeth Kunar
Towards the end of the month, Syphoc's master, Braecen Kaeth Kunar, left him a message on his Data-Pad that he did not notice until he returned to Antenora. The message caused the holo-generator to activate, making a small, blue model of his master appear.
"Greetings Syphoc, it has been a while since we have last met, for which I apologize. Xan however, has informed me that you have been progressing quite well in your lightsaber-training." Braecen took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing, "Many students reach this point in their lessons, but go no further, for you are about to embark on the most coveted of missions given to a Journeyman… the creation of your Lightsaber." The Jedi Hunter's breath caught upon hearing those words, the creation of his lightsaber.
"However, as you must be aware, the Brotherhood is preparing for war, and so new lightsabers are being constructed by greedy Dark Jedi Knights and Equites so color crystals are running low at this point," the Heir of Kun continued. Syphoc's heart fell at hearing that, but still had a glimmer of hope, for why would his master contact him with an impossible mission?
"To that end, we must scour the galaxy in an effort to locate a suitable crystal for your lightsaber. I say we, because I will be going with you, as you embark on this, your final Trial of the Dragon."
The azure orbs of the Consul pored over the schematics his middle-aged Apprentice had provided him. His brow contorted as he read over the list of necessary supplies, several of them could become very pricy comodities during a time of unrest within the Brotherhood.
"Interesting design, Syphoc." The Consul concluded. "I would suggest Phrikk Alloy for the hilt. And instead of this second crystal, I would replace it with a stronger Nova to give the blade more... bite." The Pontifex handed back the short piece of paper to his Apprentice, concluding his thoughts on the matter. Unconsciously, his hand ran up to his chin, stroking the stubble growing there.
Rilkel sat across from Braecen in the cockpit of the Corellian transport, firmly attached to the co-pilots command chair. "Where are we going, Master? Coruscant? Antei? I heard you took Mayda to Antei for her standard issue parts."
"Actually," the Patriarch of the Kaeths began, "we are going to Corellia."
"Corellia, Master?" Syphoc asked.
The Consul looked into the grey eyes of his pupil as he spoke in even tones. "We cannot move forward until we know where we have begun..." The words help a cryptic significance, but the Jedi Hunter could not discern the Equite's intent. "Plus, to recover a cyan crystal, of significance, it is the best place to begin."
The lines of starlight retracted to their normal positions, as the Corellian transport emerged from the depths of hyperspace. The nearest star, a bright yellow one by the name of Corell, momentarily blinded the occupants of the transport. After several hours spent traveling through hyperspace, they had arrived at the boundaries of the Corellian system, and were now headed towards the capital planet of The Five Brothers, Corellia.
As they neared the blue-green planet beneath them, the comlink beeped signaling an incoming message. Braecen punched a button on the control panel to activate the voice comlink. A crisp military voice came over the cockpit’s speakers, “Incoming Corellian transport, please identify yourself, your cargo, and your destination.”
Braecen glanced at Syphoc who whispered, “We are currently running under the name Sanctum. We could probably convince them that we are Jedi,” the Jedi Hunter glanced at his Master’s clothes, “especially since you’re wearing those. As for our destination, Coronet, as the capital city, is probably the best place to start our search, but also where security will probably be tightest.”
The Heir of Kun stared at his apprentice with wide eyes, marveling at his quick thinking. He responded to the question over the comlink with that information and was granted a landing spot at the Coronet Spaceport with no other questions asked.
As the pair of Dark Jedi approached the ground, the giant metallic spies of Coronet rushed up to meet them; Braecen deftly maneuvered the transport into a large valley in the midst of all of the metal: the spaceport.
The transport had just settled onto the ground when the welcoming committee appeared at the entrance to the hangar. It appeared to be a party of six Corellian Security Force members, and the spaceport officer. The Master and Apprentice glanced at each other however as they could sense the other CorSec agents waiting outside the door.
Braecen shook his head, “Patience my apprentice, they are just here to collect the docking fee, I think. They heard ‘Jedi’ and immediately become suspicious because they were not notified before we entered the system that we were coming.” Syphoc nodded, and punched the button to lower the boarding ramp. Braecen, brown and off-white Jedi Knight Robes billowing around him, walked off the ship with his head held high.
“We were not alerted to this… mission that you were on in this area. Will you require assistance from CorSec, Master Jedi?” the officer asked.
“No, but the Jedi Order thanks you for the offer of assistance. How much is the docking fee?” the Heir of Kun asked, acting for the entire world to see as though he were a Jedi.
A half hour later, the two Krath were standing in the street outside of the spaceport. Air-speeder traffic cut through the sky high overhead and the occasional land-speeder drove by.
”Never had to argue with someone to pay a fee before,” Braecen muttered, “The air-speeder we are renting should be just around the corner.” He strode off in the direction of the air-speeder.
Syphoc caught up to his master, who told him that they were going to start their search at the apartment in which the Jedi Hunter had grown up. When asked why, the Equite only replied with the same cryptic answer as before, “We cannot move forward, until we know where we have begun.”
A short time later, the two Krath stood outside the skyscraper in the northern region of the town. “Abandoned…” The Jedi Hunter mused, “If the building is abandoned what do you expect to find here?”
Braecen did not respond, merely walking into the building and calling the elevator. Though rusted and unused for several years, the elevator came and they were quickly on it and heading upstairs. When they reached the floor, Braecen heard a sharp intake of breath as the elevator doors opened onto the state of total destruction. Though beggars and squatters had lived in the building, they had steered clear of the floor whose former residents had provoked the wrath of the Empire. Even now, during the height of the New Republic, the floor was abandoned.
Entering the apartment, Syphoc different from when he had last walked in the apartment physically. The Force felt as though a Force-user had made their mark on the spot. This was impossible however, as his skills in the Force had lain dormant until recently and his father couldn’t have been a Jedi…
Revelation dawned slowly in the Jedi Hunter’s mind, spreading like a plague through his body. He suddenly understood every action that his father had taken, from ensuring Syphoc’s independence, to becoming a Rebel operative.
Braecen finally broke the unnatural silence saying, “Your father was a Jedi that is clear from the Force. He undoubtedly served the light to his final moments; turn your disgust to your advantage. Use it to fuel you in your quest, for you have just discovered a possible crystal that would definitely succeed in your lightsaber.”
“I will, my master. It was the Empire that made him disappear that day, but whether or not he is dead I don’t know, nor do I care. However, they will have confiscated his lightsaber, so it is probably still within the garrison,” Syphoc replied.
“Very good my apprentice,” Braecen responded, “Now that we know where you began, we can now move forward to recover the crystal. You are correct in where it is probably located: the garrison. I doubt if it was touched when the garrison was converted from the Empire to the New Republic, so to the New Republic military garrison we shall now head.”
The duo of Krath - Master and Apprentice - stood before a monolith of duracrete and transparisteel. Though they had radically different backgrounds, both stood motionless as the brisk wind cut through their clothing - the robes flapping dramatically in the wind - and their eyes soaked in the possibilities before them. Each seeking something different, yet both aligned for the same purpose: recovery of an ancient blade.
The talented, once Rebel operative scrutinized the building from a tactical standpoint. His eyes flashed back and forth as he divined the what he could. In a matter of moments he discerned the location, and patrol routes, of the soon-to-be enemy forces. In addition, he identified potential entrances and exits... should their first attempt fail. To compensate his keen senses, he drew a data pad and sought to glean any additional information readily available in the Corellian archives.
Beside him, still adorned in the simple robes of Corellian Jedi, Braecen was seeking answers as he communed with the Dark Side. His gift with the Force laid in his ability to 'see' the Force as tendrils, or threads, flowing constantly before him. Of his own power, he could create threads or modify current ones to make his will incarnate... but he could not change the future, only use the clues before him to find the 'future' he wished to bring forth. His eyes glistened with hunger as he picked through countless paths before finding the one he had sought... the one that would unlock the potential of his Apprentice.
To recover this crystal, the Heir of Kun reflected, will unlock unlimited power within Syphoc. It will be from this point that he begins his initial, and crucial, steps towards Mastery of the Dark Side. The Pontifex neglected to acknowledge the sacrifices that would come with such power. His task was to tear down the walls between his charge and unlimited, unyielding power.
The Consul began to march towards the front entrance, Rilkel falling into step beside him. A trio of guards, with their commanding officer in tow, shuffled forward to initiate contact with the approaching tandem. The Captain raised his hand, his voice readying to shout "Halt!" Quickly, four tendrils of the Dark Side shot out and connected with the minds of the sentries.
Suddenly, the quartet of soldiers found themselves standing at the ready... yet the could not recall why. The Officer dropped his hand and the words fell away - dead - in his throat. The Corellian could not shake the insistence that something was amiss, but he dismissed the strange moment as excessive fatigue from a working a double shift. Perhaps the grind was wearing away at his attentiveness.
"How did you-" the words fell short as the Jedi Hunter stood awed by the performance of his Master. "That was more than a Mind Trick... they simply did not register our presence. It was as if we were ghosts."
"Unfortunately," the voice of the Consul rasped, "I have not found the necessary technique to circumvent recordings." He looked to his quick-witted Apprentice and, upon seeing the look of uncertainty, understood he would have to elaborate. "The technique requires 'rubbing' the short-term memory of an individual in close proximity. As I cannot connect with recording devices on the same innate level... they present a risk."
Syphoc took the information in stride, knowing he could glean further information - if not the entire technique - on their return trip to Judecca. The Krath Hunter transitioned his conversation towards their mission. "I have identified three potential areas that may hold my Father's lightsaber: the armory, the museum and the personal quarters of the Garrison's Cee-Oh."
"And which do you believe will hold the weapon of your ancestory?"
"I do not kn-"
The Consul interjected, "What does the Force tell you, Rilkel? Trust in its unending knowledge and guidance and you will have overcome the first of many, many roadblocks that even the wisest of Equites suffers."
The pair came to a junction in the hall that split into two, separate paths: right or left. Even though they were in the heart of an enemy encampment, the Master stood motionless awaiting his Apprentice's decision. It was a necessary evil meant to help bolster the decisiveness of the soon-to-be Knight, allowing him to react intuitively. A skill that would serve him well once he was assigned solo missions.
The Hunter began speaking slowly, in measured words. "Experience tells me that weapons should be stored in the armory, but this is no typical weapon. As such, I would normally believe such an antiquity would be displayed within the Museum. However, my gut tells me the Commanding Officer would not allow such a treasure to exist without adding it to his personal collection of trophies." The middle-aged man nodded as he drew to his conclusion, "It is in the personal quarters."
"Very good," the Pontifex smiled in delight. Quickly, he withdrew one of his lightsabers and handed it to his Apprentice. "Xan informs me that you are now proficiently rated with this weapon type. Should things turn ugly, you will need this weapon not only to defend and attack... but to instill fear in your enemies."
Syphoc reached out to take the weapon, "Why do I need a weapon? We were undetected."
"Three... two... one," The Consul intoned mere seconds before a shrill siren began to scream in distress. A voice breaking over the PA system informing that the base had been infiltrated. "Always must be observant of the Living Force."
Lights continued to flash red along the wall, and a siren wailed in the distance, as the master and apprentice traversed the corridors of the complex at a light jog.
The first several patrol parties that the Dark Jedi came across were easily avoidable, either by using alternate hallways or waiting for them to pass. However, as Syphoc and Braecen drew closer to the Commander’s Quarters, patrol parties grew larger and more frequent.
The pair was very near to its ultimate goal when Braecen suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway; his apprentice stopped next to him, looking at the Pontifex with some concern.
“Thus far, we have been relatively unchallenged, Syphoc,” the Heir of Kun said, “However, around this corner I sense a large force of troops that lie between us, and the quarters. Remember what Xan has taught you.”
Braecen motioned that the Jedi Hunter should continue on in front of him. Syphoc nodded and took a deep breath, preparing to step into the large hallway that intersected the one they were on. To the left, he could feel the life that was the task force that had been sent to secure the officer’s quarters once the infiltration alarm had gone off.
The Journeyman’s hand dropped to his belt where the lightsaber hung, a black and bronze bar against the dark grey cloth of his robes. Its comforting grip in his hand, Syphoc walked into the hallway with his head held high in defiance.
The squad of guards, which was on high alert, took five crucial seconds to realize that there were intruders in the hallway; they then wasted another ten seconds receiving their orders from the unit commander. It was enough time for Syphoc to take five steps down the hallway and bring Braecen’s lightsaber up into an offensive position—the eyes of the troops tracking the bar’s progress through space as it moved.
Syphoc gave the front most guard a smile and activated the weapon, causing a silver-white blade to extend from the hilt. The pupils of the guard dilated in fear and a second later his head rolled across the floor having just been severed by the lightsaber; the head was stopped by Braecen’s boot as he, light brown cloak billowing behind him, walked out of the hallway intending to support his apprentice.
The guards however, thinking that the ‘light Jedi’ was going to help them, began a quick counter-attack bringing their rifles to bear on Syphoc. They opened fire and red laser bolts shot across the room at high speeds, many burying themselves in the wall or floor, but nearing the Hunter and Pontifex. The Pontifex, using his remaining lightsaber, swatted the blaster bolts back at their shooters, hitting several in the neck or heart. The Hunter, being much less adept at the art of saber-fighting than his master, made do with deflecting the bolts into the walls and ceiling, advancing slowly so that he could press the attack.
As Syphoc reached the last of the guards, he passed his saber through the neck of two of them, and then shoved the silver blade through the heart of the captain. He then held the pose while the bodies dropped to the floor.
Braecen however, wasted no time, striding over to the door just as the lights went off. He let out a soft curse and said, “They must’ve cut power to this area. This door is all that separates you from your family’s heritage however, so it will not remain here for long. Put the blade through the control panel, and then together, we will open the door through the Force.”
Syphoc, nodded, a motion that his master could not see despite the faint glow from the lightsabers. He followed his instructions to the letter, and then they opened the door and walked inside.
As the door slid open, under the physical strain of the Force prying at it's weight - overcoming the lock previously set in place - it grated against the track. A soft, yellow light spilled into the darkened chamber where the two stood. The light forced both individuals to squint as their pupils adjusted to the change. Syphoc, quickest to recover, slowly entered the quarters with the saber still ignited. The soft humming echoed throughout the chamber as he took in the surroundings. vzzm, vzzzm
His attention turned back upon the Pontifex that stepped into the room. A chill ran up the Hunter's back as his Master seemingly drifted out of the darkness... like ink spilling outward and taking tangible form. The Apprentice opened his mouth to ask how he could duplicate that skill when his warning sense screamed in his mind. Instinctively, Syphoc dived to his right into an awkward roll that brought him up on one knee with the silver flame slanted across his form in a defensive posture.
An enormous bulk emerged from an adjacent room, a blaster held in hand. The former Rebel operative instantly recognized it as a modified version of a Relby K. A quick glance back at his Master found the Equite holding his saber in a similar defensive nature.
"Easy, tiger." Braecen's tone did not belay any sense of dread or fear he may be harboring. "We can do this the easy way, you know." He took two tentative steps forward before the pitch and whine of blaster fire directed another two crimson bolts at the Consul's head. A deep growl erupted from the throat of the Heir of Kun. "I will not harm yo-"
"Imposter! Liar!" The big man barked over the calm, soothing voice of the Equite. "You will not harm me, you will leave this place at once." Then, as if wholly unsure of his statement, he tossed in, "My personal guards are on the way!"
Now the anger of the Kaeth Patriarch was palpable. His body language betrayed his emotions as his lips spilled forth a threat. "I said I wouldn't kill you... I didn't say I couldn't, Colonel." Rilkel's eyes flashed back to the big man and quickly settled upon the rank insignia of the man, confirming his identify. Slowly, purposefully, the Hunter stood up from his position and began to move away from his Master. Now, the Command Officer retreated several steps with his barrel swiveling back 'n forth to keep both antagonists in his sights.
Rilkel's words came laced with genuine curiosity, more so than contempt. "How long have you held this post, Colonel?" Instantly, a line of questioning formed in his mind should he have been the commander of forces that brought his father to an early demise. "Not over a period of five years," the Officer retorted in bewilderment - the question was unexpected. Rilkel's heart deflated at the comment, knowing this man would not have the answers he so desperately sought.
The Hunter's next words came with bitter resolve, "Where is the blade? And do not feign ignorance with me." His eyes, as they settled upon the simple man promised death should he lie to the Dark Jedi. The man gulped as he pulled at his collar, trying to ease the constricting feeling that had settled about him. His eyes shone with true terror and he, dejectedly, nodded to the room behind him. Carefully, he edged his way against the wall and away from the Jedi Hunter.
Syphoc marched into the room, knowing that his Master would kill the man and then join him shortly thereafter. His guess was confirmed as the man cried out and a decidedly evil hum of the lightsaber snuffed the man's existence from the Living Force. Always be mindful of the Living Force, Rilkel could hear his Master's words in his mind.
His feet carried him to a chest tucked away in the corner of the room. A lavish, wooden box that had been treated with great respect and well maintained over the course of many years. His breath caught as he opened the box, revealing an old saber hilt resting upon a bed of teal satin. Slowly he reached for the blade, letting his fingers run down its form before he firmly gripped it in his right hand and raised it before him. He could feel his father's presence upon the blade, so deeply ingrained into the item that would have served as his tool for countless years.
Expectantly, he thumbed the blade... hoping to bring it to life. Nothing happened. Several more times he clicked the activation button, yearning to see the blade of his father ignite just once. A hand fell upon his shoulder, Rilkel could feel his Master's concern in their connection. "We must be going, Syphoc."