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SWG RP - Echoes of the Past

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    SWG RP - Echoes of the Past

    The Talusian sunset made the horizon glow in iridescent shades of purple and gold as the golden grass swayed gently in the breeze of the shuttle’s landing thrusters. A door slid open and a hooded figure stepped out, pausing only to take a deep breath – a familiar memory of days long gone. A herd of paralopes grazed in the distance, and the figure walked towards a small hill top, the light of the sunset dancing off of a hip stowed blaster visible only briefly as his cloak parted. Reaching the hilltop, the figure stopped and peered into the shallow valley below. Strange shadows leaped from stone to rusted durasteel as the ruins of a once great metropolis covered the plain below. The cloaked figure stood in silience and contemplation, as the memories came back to him.

    “Tsarin…” he murmured to himself.

    He slowly stepped down the hill, avoiding debris and crags. Reaching the plain, he walked amongst the once bustling rebel alliance command center, now only abandoned buildings and ruins – a graveyard of the past. A soft clang rang out as the figure climbed over a twisted piece of durasteel and a few nesting kimas scattered, startled by the noise. A large building to the side drew the figure’s gaze; a once tall structure was now gutted with blast holes, scorched by fire and crumbling from many years of neglect. The square in front of it lay in ruins, blackened by the signs of orbital bombardment. Drawing his dark cloak close, the figure briskly walked to a series of structures behind the tall building, the way that they were ordered suggested this was the ruined city’s once living quarter. Increasing his speed as if his goal was within reach, he stopped in front of a house. The doors had been blasted apart and the walls were in disrepair, scorched by ancient blaster fire. He pushed a button on his wrist and an R2 unit appeared from the direction of the shuttle, making excited noises as it recognized a familiar setting. The figure smiled sadly, and placed his hand on the R2 unit’s dome to calm it down. R2-D3 beeped sadly.

    “Yes this is the place D3” the figure replied.

    Stepping through the door, the figure peered into the blackness. Immediately the room lit up, as R2-D3 turned his dome and projected a light onto the wall. The figure reached out and touched the wall, wiping decades of dust off of a panel. He pulled a small device from his belt and attached it to the panel and it hummed to life as the old power cells drew life from the battery he had attached. He pressed several keys and sliced through several security protocols. Finally a loud click could be heard as the locking mechanism disengaged and a small door opened beside the panel. The figure reached inside and pulled out a wrapped object, quickly wrapping it within his cloak and exiting the structure. R2-D3 followed and chirped. As if in response, the figure reached into his cloak and pulled out the object, slowly unwrapped it from the cloth it had been stowed in. He beheld the unwrapped object, a cylindrical metallic object, with a switch on its side. He took a deep breath and pressed the switch. With a hiss, the blade ignited – its deep blue glow embracing the white core of energy projecting in front of him. R2-D3 beeped ecstatically. The blade hummed as the figure drew it from side to side, slaying the shadows caused by its elegant blue glow.

    Suddenly R2-D3 chirped urgently and the figure pressed the button, sheathing the blade with its characteristic hiss.

    “What is it D3? CorSec? Imperials?” the figure enquired with slight amusement.

    “Worse” a voice called out, as a man stepped out from behind a nearby building, his blaster drawn and pointed at the hooded figure. He slowly approached, his hair streaked with gray and wearing an old worn yellow jacket that had seen better days, stopping in front of the cloaked figure.

    “The Crescent Order doesn’t look kindly upon grave robbers” he said, gesturing with his blaster to the object in the hooded figure’s hand.

    “The Crescent Order…” The cloaked figure pondered briefly, “I thought the Empire destroyed The Crescent Order long ago”

    “They tried to. We lost many in the purge, but we survived. We endured.” The man in the jacket replied, still pointing his blaster at the figure.

    “No…” The figure replied, “You endured.”

    The cloaked figure stood silent for a moment, looking at the object in his hand – a lightsaber, the ancient weapon of a Jedi. The hilt of the blade gleamed, and its touch felt familiar to him.

    “It belonged to my brother.” The figure replied. The man in the yellow jacket stood stunned, as a million thoughts raced through his mind. Cocking the blaster, he pointed it at the figure’s head.

    “Who are you? Show yourself!” The man ordered, ready to pull the trigger. The figure reached with two calloused hands and slowly drew his hood back. In the place of a cloaked shadow stood an aged man, with short gray hair and a gray beard. A scar ran from his right forehead to his right cheek and his skin was weathered, as if it had seen too many winters. His piercing green eyes though were as youthful as ever, gleaming in the last vestige of Talus’ sunset.

    “Zane…Zane Falkin” the man in the yellow jacket exclaimed in disbelief, “You’re dead…I saw you die”

    The gray bearded figure smiled wryly.

    “Yes Relan, my old friend…it’s me.”

    [OOC: Awesome... welcome back my old friend ]
    - Councilor