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Topic: Forge Sagas (Read 368375 times) previous topic - next topic

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Forge Sagas
ESCAPE! A dangerous criminal is on the loose
from the prison world of Oovo IV. Dreks Falstom,
notorious murderer and gangster, has been tracked
back to his home base on the planet Selsor. There,
he plans to reunite with his former lover, and
one-time partner, Mon Iika, who has desperately
tried to put the past behind her.

In order to protect her from the dangers of Falstom,
the Jedi Council has dispatched Jedi Knight Beck,
and his padawan Tawrrowaldr, to keep Mon Iika safe
from harm.

Blue engines flared as the T-6 Shuttle exited hyperspace, altering course for the system's inhabited planet. Through the transparasteel windows the arid world of Selsor appeared to rise, its bronze appearance turned white by winter's empbrace. A pair of tawny-furred hands worked the shuttle's controls, manipulating the vessel's flight path to approach the surface. The small Wookiee glanced from his instruments to the windows as he entered the final commands, prompting a voice beside him to speak up.

"Adjust your flight angle, Tawrrowaldr," came the deep bass of Jedi Knight Beck from the co-pilot's seat. A broad smile appeared under his bulbous nose even as his tone warranted caution, "We want to enter the atmosphere, not skip across."

The young Wookiee called Tawrrowaldr looked up from the controls to glare at the Jedi Knight. A hint of bitterness coursed through his voice as he blustered a retort, his voice issuing as the series of growls and warbles that constituted his native tongue, "I got this, Master."

"Patience, my young padawan," Beck said in a quiet, but firm tone, leaving little room for interpretation.

That didn't seem to stop the young Jedi from trying, anyway. "You did ask me to fly."

"I asked you to learn."

Tawrrowaldr bristled at the rebuke, his cheeks glowing hot under their thick fur. He turned towards the window, narrowing his eyes as if that would let him see more clearly. Beck had no right to criticize him, the padawan told himself, he had but only a few weeks of training under the Jedi Knight. How could he be expected to get everything right the first time?

In a low growl, the Wookiee padawan asked, "And I'm not?"

Beck's response hurt more than the young Jedi was prepared to believe. "That remains to be seen."

The padawan kept his face turned away for the rest of the flight. He was still fuming as the pair disembarked from the ambassadorial shuttle, stepping foot onto the cold, frozen ground of Selsor. The thick pads on the bottom of his feet protected the young Jedi from contact with the frigid earth underfoot, but his master had donned a heavy, warm outfit to protect against the cold. There were some advantages to being a Wookiee, the young padawan noted to himself, as the entirety of his garments consisted of a utility belt to keep his lightsaber and comlink close at hand. The cold didn't bother him in any way.

As he scanned the icy tundra, the terrain broken occasionally by pockets of structures huddled together, Tawrrowaldr searched for signs of importance on this world. His eyes flicked from structures to the terrain, trying to imagine what value they would have to a convicted gangster. He kept up his search as Beck motioned for them to walk, examining his surroundings with an open mind. Keeping an open mind was the first step to accomplishing one's objectives, or at least that was what Master Ulthas had taught him so many years ago.

Impatience found him at last, after a fruitless search on his own, and the young padawan piped up in a high-pitched yip, "Why would he come here?"

The knight seemed to find this question amusing, for he issued a deep chuckle that almost echoed in the calm, frigid air. "My young padawan, Dreks Falstom is many things, but practical is not one of them." Before Tawrrowaldr could inquire as to what part of Falstom's nature would bring him here, his master provided that on his own, "He came back for love, Tawrrowaldr. It is a powerful emotion, but it can easily be a man's undoing."