Session export: Fateful Encounter
The brilliant azure lights of streaking by faded as thr Erinos’ Oath dropped out of hyperspace, providing a clear view of a rocky planet floating within the blackened expanse of space. Bril stood with his arms folded across the white cuirass of his beskar'gam, his Mandalorian armor, quietly observing the planet as it grew ever larger during his ship’s approach.
Upon making landfall on the outskirts of settlement called Ogden’s Hope, he exited his shipment with haste, and ventured into the town proper.
“Let’s see …,” he said to himself while tapping the small display present kn one of his vambraces. The schematics he bad of the planet were clearly out of date; they depicted this town as little more than a nascent frontier settlement, but what he saw suggested the town had been here for far longer.
Although its buildings were fashioned from timber rather than the duracrete and durasteel construction typical of Selen, his home planet, there were many of them, and their design was no less sophisticated. A few passersby stopped to regard him, likely due to him being covered from head-to-toe in armor, but most of them seemed too busy to offer more than a passing glance.
When a Nikto man passed by, Bril stopped him, saying: “Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the nearest cantina?”
“Sure thing,” the man said, turning to his left and pointing toward a two-storey building with a sign reading ‘Damsen’s Saloon’ written in Aurebesh.
The inside of the Saloon smelled of cheap spirits and tabaac smoke - typical of Outer Rim cantinas. There were a number of rough looking individuals there who might have given him reason to keep an eye on them were he unable to feel even the slightest changes in their mood and intentions through the Force.
Instead, he approached the bar and had a seat.
There was a nondescript protocol droid standing behind the counter, who spun around with an electronic whirr to greet him. “Good evening, sir. What would you like to start you off?”
“Information,” Bril replied coolly, “I heard that there used to be an a Jedi Outpost here. I’m looking for directions to it or someone who can help me find it.”
Yeyu was running. The polished sheen of his fine boots was dimmed by muck as he crashed through underbrush. He’d been out not for a Vizsla mission, but his own personal venture. The satchel slung over his shoulder was filled with his sketchbook and supplies hastily stuffed inside in order to flee.
On his shoulder, the blue-grey Pikobi’s talons dug in deep to keep the creature locked in place. It hunkered down, head close to Yeyu’s cheek and beak clamped shut. Zei had been hunting up bugs in the underbrush while Yeyu recorded a set of unique flowers in a dusty, open expanse. He’d been so interested in what kind of plant might grow in a place like that he’d not heard or felt the approach.
Zei’s alarmed squawks had broken the reverie. His delicate legs had brought him swiftly back to Yeyu, crest standing on end and eyes wide with fear. It took a single look at the frazzled Pikobi for Yeyu to snatch up his stuff and throw his pack on his shoulder. He had taken off in the direction of Ogden’s Hope, vaguely recalling the steps that brought him to the plateau. Zei had launched up onto his normal spot and held on for dear life.
Augmenting his stride through the gift of the Force, Yeyu ran freely. Fleet of foot, and confident in his ability to navigate the rocky terrain, he used each obstacle - desiccated, fallen trees and sunburnt boulders - as barriers between himself and his unknown pursuers. He’d been running from Sith and Dark Side mercs for so long now that he didn’t even bother with the who or the how many.
Bursting from the wilderness onto the main thoroughfare of the growing town, he quickly scanned for what would be the most populated area. Population meant an audience and the opportunity to disappear - something incredibly hard to achieve in a population this small. Ducking into Damsen’s Saloon without a second thought, he slowed his steps and released his control of the Force. The Augmentation faded from his limbs and he took a deep, steadying breath.
Patting his wild, flyaway strands of black hair back into place, he smiled as if he hadn’t a care in the world and slid up next to a man in the midst of speaking to the droid behind the bar.
“One more of whatever he’s having.”
Bril felt Yeyu’s approach long before he saw him enter the establishment from the corner of his eye. Through the Force, he sensed the man’s panic, the powerful motivation to get somewhere – anywhere – from where he had been. Most of all, he felt the threads of the Living Force coiling around and within him tightly. That caught his attention.
He turned his head to regard him with a pair of curious blue eyes. Few enjoyed the weight of the young Zabrak’s attention when his interest was piqued. Admittedly, he had a habit of using his unusually acute Force senses to examine people, sifting through emotions and feelings like they were clues in one of his investigations.
“Are you alright?” he asked in a calm tone that hopefully would ease the man’s frantic energy a bit. All those feelings were loud in the Force, after all. Notably, his accent in Basic possessed all the tonal, lilting motifs that hinted at it being his second language.
The edge of the bar was a sharp point in his ribs as Yeyu leaned over it and brought himself onto the stool. He flashed a smile - all perfect white teeth and confidence - before glancing over his shoulder at the entrance.
“Never better, now that I’m here.”
He sat on the stool the way a cat might sit on a hot tin roof. That is to say, lightly and fully prepared not to commit to the action. One leg jittered as if ready to kick off and he never fully turned to face the counter. Instead he kept himself somewhat open faced toward the blue-eyed stranger with a clear line of sight to not only the entrance but the back alley exit as well.
“So what are we having?” Mismatched gaze flicking back to his new companion, he tried to tone down the almost manic grin, “I like my drinks as sweet as me…that is to say I don’t wanna taste the alcohol, only the yummy flavors. So hopefully I haven’t just agreed to a straight shot.”
Bril’s eyes narrowed a hair in response to the man’s nervous, almost frantic demeanor. What had him so perturbed? “I won’t be drinking today,” he said, “but if you want something sweet, you should try th—”
He cut his words short when he felt something pressing up against the walls of his awareness. The emotions of greed and hatred were dark clouds creeping across an otherwise clear sky. The presence of the Dark Side was unmistakable, especially now that he marched in step to the drumbeat of the Light Side of the Force.
Bril’s eyes shot to the stranger again. “So, that’s what has you so nervous,” he said with a heavy sigh while rising from his feet.
The air within Damsen’s Saloon grew tense. Its patrons exchanged quiet looks of worry, and the hands of some inched ever closer to the blasters holstered on their persons. Bril stepped through the front doors to find two figures waiting for him: a human woman with eyes that could cut durasteel, and a male of a species he didn’t recognize who towered over her.
“A Mandalorian and a Jedi. You don’t see that often, do you, Nysera?” The larger of the two spoke in a deep baritone voice, his words laced with curiosity and disdain in equal measure.
The human’s lips curled into a wicked grin. “Not at all. Let’s take our time with this one.”
The telltale crack and hiss of lightsabers activating punctuated the threats of the two strangers, and the crimson glow of their blades removed any doubt regarding their affiliation.
“I’m going to give you a chance to leave now, but something tells me you won’t heed my warning,” he said while placing his helmet on. They never listened.
Tension was a thick and suffocating blanket that draped itself across the room. Patrons froze in place, eyes locked on the confrontation unfurling before them. Yeyu was clearly not startled by the display.
Rising to his feet, he kept the bar at his back and smiled almost jovially. His voice, sweet and airy slid through the haze of violence that was building. It passed between the three of them, an almost physical caress as Yeyu’s words coiled around the duo.
“Look at me,” his naturally compelling, Nagai-gifted voice was further enhanced by the Force, “It’s rude to skip introductions, you would agree.”
The smaller one nodded almost imperceptibly, and it was enough for Yeyu to continue.
“You’ve forgotten one of us. Zei? Kěn.”
The duo’s eyes cast about, looking for another person to complete the trio. They did not look down. Did not see the sleek, soft blue-grey of the Pikobi darting from the shadows. The creature burst from below, sharp talons and beak aimed for the woman’s face at the exact moment Yeyu conjured a shimmering phantom.
The illusion was weak, pulled from the Force with a timed hastiness that gave it only the most vague sense of humanoid structure. But it was enough to be convincing in the periphery, as planned. It sprung forward in time with Zei, larger and more obvious than the Pikobi to draw their attention.
And in the space before the heartbeat that followed, Yeyu’s own saber cracked and hissed alive. The brilliant white of Hejing Huang created a pallid glow against the hybrid’s skin as he held it with inexperienced hands. Outwardly his body was motionless, but inwardly he struggled with the immediate surge of untrained emotion as something dark, almost sinister uncoiled in the depths of his being.
The woman stepped backward while lifting her hand to protect her face from the Pikobi’s attack. “What the?” she said through gritted teeth. The damned thing moved faster than she’d expected, clawing through fabric and cutting the skin and flesh beneath. With a growl, she waved her hand, flinging the animal away with a burst of telekinetic force.
The illusion provided Bril with enough of an opening to lunge forward and blast her with a sidekick that sent her barreling backward.
When the Force screamed a warning, he whirled around to catch the larger Sith’s lightsaber on his vambrace. Sparks scattered from the point of impact.
Bril’s eyes shot to Yeyu when he sensed the tide of emotion swelling within him. “Steady your mind,” he shouted, his voice strained from the effort of holding back the physically imposing Sith standing before him.
Varkesh, the larger Sith, gripped his lightsaber with two hands and struck again, forcing Bril to parry it to the side before backing away.
After recovering from the kick, Nysera set her sights on Yeyu. “Such delicious conflict within you,” she said with a grin. And without saying another word, she extended her mind across the paltry divide between them, reaching out with icy tendrils to latch onto Yeyu’s mind and extract his dormant fears and anxieties to use them as a weapon against him.
A distressed sound spilled out of Yeyu unbidden as he was plunged deep into a locked away memory. He fell through time until he was forced to recall that day. The click of polished boots on the lacquered foyer floor. A sharp ringing in his ears as a faceless voice explained violent death in such a detached tone. Then tumbling into the flashes of the matron of his family, the cruel slash of her mouth twisting in a grotesque smirk.
The memories were relentless, like piercing briars wrapping around his mind and making him tremble within the grip of the Force. The past clung to Yeyu and for a moment he forgot to shield himself, to resist it. It was not the shout of his newfound companion that brought him back into the present, but the sharp crack of lightsabers meeting. With a cold burst of fear rolling down his spine, reality began to settle back around him. He was here in Damsen’s Saloon, not in that lonely foyer or in front of his grandmother. He was being chased down by those who wanted what he was and that was enough to tone down the panic and trigger his mind to think logically.
Blinking rapidly, he staggered against the bar briefly, playing up the motion to sell his vulnerability. Yet within the Force he was stealthily reaching for that thin, wild connection to Zei. Once he was certain the Pikobi was simply stunned, not dead, he turned his focus to weaving a stronger illusion. He lifted Hejing Huang in one hand, the crystalline white a sharp slash of light between him and his pursuers. As he held the other fist up before him as if to defend his face, Yeyu did his best to focus within that grip to craft the hidden illusion. It felt foreign to be holding the lightsaber rather than being free-handed, but when matched against the two hunting him he needed the lethality of the saber.
His focus honed, pushing away the pain of the past as the plush red velvet of stage curtains lowered in his mind’s eye. Years of performance, of masking himself into a carefully mastered projection of perfection, brought him into a fugue state. Blue-brown eyes locked on Nysera and time stood still. The fine hairs on the back of Yeyu’s neck stood on end - prey staring down predator…and he took the feeling, ripping it out by the roots until he was left with nothing at all. Then Yeyu moved. Not as a Jedi or Mando or even a simple soldier.
He moved like a dancer, passionate and animalistic. The zigging pattern of his dash toward Nysera was driven by instinct and adrenaline. Slashing first with Hejing then twirling along her flank, he feigned another strike with the saber. Baiting her, the mask of prey fell away as he released the conjured illusion - an impossibly bright sphere of light - directly at her face. Using speed to outmaneuver brute strength, he used the opening to strike out with his foot. The sweeping motion was meant to cast her off balance, preferably enough to bring her down as his foot hooked into the back of her knee.
Nysera’s hand shot to her face when the radiant illusion went off like a flashbang. “You little…” she hissed.
And just as seemed like Yeyu was going to successfully capitalize on her moment of distraction, the hulking form of her partner appearing to his left erased any chance of that.
Varkesh advanced like a charging mudhorn, using his tremendous strength and the heavy strikes of Djem So like he always did: to smash through his enemy’s defenses.
There was a fluttering in the force that called to him. It was the only thing that saved his arm. As Hejing sliced through the air with fatal intention, Varkesh suddenly appeared. Instinct alone was not enough to alter Yeyu’s course of action and without the Force the arm holding his own saber would have been shorn off. A sloppy, last second pivot on the ball of his foot had him narrowly avoiding one blow. Twisting and half tumbling as his body fought to maintain a ruptured tempo, he felt rather than saw the saber slide along his bicep.
It ate through the flimsy fabric of his holosuit like wet paper, moving so fast the skin beneath didn’t have a chance to cauterize. His self control faltered, allowing the agony to ripple up into his shoulder. A halted cry, half way realized, died quickly as he fell back. Bicolored eyes flashed between Nysera and Varkesh. Fear swelled and the playful bravado began to slip. He’d been hunted before; chased and shot at. He’d fought before - had spent many afternoons in the later years of his childhood sparring with his brothers.
But this was not that. This was visceral pain and the sticky, wet sensation of his own blood dripping down his arm. It was a slight numbness in his fingers that made it difficult to grip his saber. This was the sound of his heartbeat, a thunderous monster threatening to erupt from his chest as it swelled with struggling breaths. This was terror and it was gripping Yeyu so tightly the white slash of Hejing’s light shivered and swayed in the open space between him and his attackers.
Yeyu’s truncated scream pulled at the edges of Bril’s attention, causing the zabrak’s eyes to briefly cut in the former’s direction.
This wasn’t good. It was clear that neither of the two Sith were trying to kill him, but it brought him no comfort to consider what they would do if they captured him. Bril needed to get him out of here.
But something was wrong … a disturbance in the Force. Bril’s attention returned the Nysera, an expression of shock and frustration appearing across his face beneath his helmet. The woman’s icy tendrils latched onto his mind, attempting to dig beneath the surface. But Bril rebuffed her, and lashed out with a fist of brilliant white flame that threw the woman backward.
He targeted Varkesh next, dashing between him and the wounded man just in time to block a heavy lightsaber blow. Parrying the blade to the side, he landed a heavy blow on his jaw that sent him stumbling backward.
Bril didn’t hesitate to turn and grab Yeyu’s good arm to pull him to his feet. “Stay ahead of me and move,” he commanded.
Somewhere between numb and terrified, Yeyu blindly followed the tug of his companion. There was a ringing in his ears, insistent and high pitched. The keening sound made his head spin and the world sound far away. Footsteps, far heavier than his usual, carried him along the curved edge of the bar. Motor functions sluggish to respond, it felt like running through a bog. Despite the fact that his body was indeed working to distance him from his attackers, it felt like he hadn’t moved a single inch.
The emotions inside him were turbulent, yet somehow locked behind a cold glass wall. Separate from his consciousness, yet roiling just beyond the surface. Shock kept him out of those icy waters and moving toward the back exit. If Bril was saying anything, fighting or even following - he had no concept of this. It was not until tiny, piercing sharp talons latched onto his shoulder that Yeyu started to emerge into true awareness once more.
They hit the backdoor with a thunderous, metallic bang. Spilling out into the alley, Yeyu found he’d somehow not only kept hold of Hejing, but he hadn’t injured himself or anyone else with it. A sound formed in his chest, working its way unbidden up his throat. Hysterical laughter escaped him, much like his own self control. In the back of his mind he knew his brothers would have been disappointed in his lack of discipline; could very nearly hear Delun’s playful mockery and Liang’s stern instruction.
Zei released a sharp, alarmed call in Yeyu’s ear threatening to derail what little mental function he was maintaining. Behind them there was a forceful crash - likely a table or heavy furniture being forcefully ejected from their pursuers’ path. The alley they were in was wide enough for three people to walk abreast, with uneven footing and no additional doors to duck into. Their only options were stay exactly where they were…or pick one end or the other to run to.
“I-…” He shook his head as if that could clear the strange sensations gripping his mind, “I can’t…”