Steel Accord

“At war?” Layton himself leaned in. “My good captain, as Imperial citizens, you’re entitled to Imperial military protection.” “Entitled to. At the mercy of.” Rita whined sarcastically. Layton either ignored her or didn’t care. “ZK please. Bring up a galactic map so we can assist our friends.” ZK nodded and communicated with an astromech droid that wheeled up and threw open a holographic display of the galactic map, with a helpful political guide showing the regions and who controlled them. No surprise the Galactic Empire dominated most of it, including the sector they were currently in. Then there was Hutt Space. Nominally under Imperial control but the Hutts managed more independence than most. Then there were the margins of the map marked “contested” which was code for, rebellion, sedition, defection and other such acts. Obviously the Federation, and neither its enemies appeared anywhere on it. He had to admit, Senotho was curious about Captain Jellico and his crew. He knew that they were somehow “new” but he wasn’t sure how and maybe this would help.

City of Heroes . . . you read that right.

Layton chuckled a little nervously but he decided to humor them. Again he was trying to get them on his side. The clear reality that he was having trouble doing so where Senotho ingratiated himself so quickly into the situation really says something about the Imperial Academy's diplomatic curriculum, at least Senotho thought so in his admittedly biased perspective. "Captain, that's one of the oldest questions in the Galaxy. Where did we come from?" He postulated, clearly excluding the non-humans present from that "we." Both Jeeg and Rita were about to say something but Phi kept them both quiet and Creel just grunted, clearly used to it. "Personally I'm partial to the theory that we ev olved on ancient Notron. That would be renamed what we know as Coruscant. I mean it makes sense no? It became the capital of the greatest civilization the Galaxy has ever seen." Strangely it was not the Gungan or Toydarian that took such issue but the human looking clone. He said nothing but his expression darkened and Senotho could feel his anger rising. Senotho waved a flat hand and nodded to his friend. Signaling to keep cool. Grid took a breath and aloud Layton his opinion.

“I see no reason why it shouldn’t be.” Having now shaken hands with the man, Pilgrim was certain of two things. The captain was a good man, and that he and his crew were the source of that massive disturbance in the Force. He couldn’t tell why exactly but the Force moved oddly around them. Like dropping a stone in a river but instead of flowing around it, the water parted around the stone, not touching it. It was very strange and he wondered if it had anything to do with his vision. As they took their seats Layton tried to regain control of the situation. “Yes that damnded bureaucrat Moff Stencer couldn’t give a toss about his policing duties and Master Senotho can attest to Governor Gaius not providing me with adequate means to protect the citizenry on or around my moon.” “The good Minister does speak truth on that matter Captain Jellico. Despite being well within their domain, the Empire’s presence in this sector has grown increasingly lax. Thus the spike in opportunistic pirates such as the ones you encountered. And that my Rangers and I are sitting at this table with you and him and not in a cell or worse.” Layton was going to object to that but he couldn’t come up with a more artful way of phrasing his situation that just wasn’t a flat out lie.

Well you have that right, it’s just a matter if the nation acknowledges and protects that right. An important distinction to make is that the United States Constitution doesn’t GRANT American citizens our rights, it acknowledges and places protections on the rights seen as being ones all people have within the jurisdiction of U.S. law. So for example the Second Amendment says; “A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.” Notice it doesn’t say “the government grants its people the right to” no, the right is assumed. What’s laid out is that the state isn’t allowed to touch that assumed right. To answer your question no, I don’t. Probably one day. I feel like even when I buy one though, I’ll just keep it at the range rather than storing it somewhere at home.

Layton lead the party into the interior of his fortress. They walked and talked. "Captain," he chuckled. "for such an obviously intelligent man, you're speaking nonsense." He walked to the doorway to their feast. "This galaxy. As if there were others." The door slid open and at the end of the table stood Senotho. Layton paled and stumbled back. "My friend you act as if you’ve seen a ghost." "H-How?" He quickly composed himself in front of his hopeful patrons. "Of course. Please, take your seats." "Yes, we would be honored, if you would join us." "We?" From the hallway behind the group came the Antarian Rangers. To their credit they weren't armed and appeared quite civil in their Rangers uniforms. Phi, the pantoran especially possessing an ambassador's poise. And walking up directly behind Senotho was the older clone trooper from the caves, his armor now polished and presentable as military decorum, he held himself proud like a soldier. Just before all parties present began to sit down, Immanuel approached Layton and the Captain. "Uhhh Captain Jellico, this is . . ." he hesitated. "Jedi Master Immanuel Senotho." He bowed at the hip before extending his hand. "An honor to meet you."

“Yes it is a bit on the fringe, but the reach of the Galactic Empire is far and wide. Please, follow me, we can talk more inside. I’ve prepared a meal for you all.” As the party approached the entrance, two stormtroopers stopped them. “Please supply all weapons. You will receive them once you leave.”

The crew were greeted by an armed precession of stormtroopers, all lined up along the platform presenting their arms in salute of the new arrivals. The protocol droid waddled out toward them with Minister Layton in tow, dressed to the nines in Imperial full dress. "Greetings. I am ZK-7, protocol droid in service to the Galactic Empire. Allow me to introduce my master and the head of Government for Antar 4. Minister Pendrew Layton." The leader stepped forward to greet his hopeful allies. He did mentally note their attire. Despite their obvious military bearing and competence, they didn't appear dressed for combat. Still he extended a hand to them. "It is an honor to meet you at last."

Ehhh I’d much prefer West Africa. Israel.

((You assume correctly.)) ”Of course Captain! Transmitting coordinates now. Feel free to bring whatever crew mates you think you’ll need. I look forward to seeing you face to face.” He close the hologram and shook his fist with a grin on his face. If he can ally this Captain with the Empire, he wouldn’t need Moffs, Rangers, or under the table dealings with Jedi. At last Antar 4 would be safe and secure. “ZK? Prepare my fine clothes, arrange a full course meal, and prepare to greet our guests. We have to make a good impression on them.” ”Of course Minister Layton.” The droid bowed and shuffled off to make the necessary preparations. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > On the busy streets of Citadel 8-B various species, mostly Gotal, traded and worked. With regular Stormtrooper patrols. Under Layton though, they tended to be more hands off than usual Imperial standards. Which is why the Antarian Rangers felt comfortable meeting at a bar in the city, even if disguised. Master Senotho sat with the group from earlier to discuss what was going on. “This is it. The disturbance in the Force.” He looked around. “I know at least some of you felt it too.” The Sullustan and Gungan both nodded while the pantoran seemed disappointed she didn’t. “What does it mean Master?” “I don’t know Phi. Whatever is hanging over our heads right now. It’s unusual, it wouldn’t attract this much attention if it wasn’t. From Layton, or whoever he fired upon.” “Minstrel Layton get us all dead boomin’ like that.” The gungan said in his graveling tone. “That’s what I’m afraid of Creel. He’s . . . frustrated. Feeling impotent.” “Is he wrong?” Snarked the toydarian. Senotho shot her a look and continued. “What he did. It was a display, a show of force. He’s trying to impress.” “Us?” The Sullstan asked. “Maybe Jeeg. I don’t think we’re his target audience though.” He looked up. “Whoever this is. I must meet them myself. We’re all in great danger.”

"No Captain, I don't!" Minister Layton turned to the gunner on his right. "Open fire!" The gunner in his sloped helmet nodded and activated the primed weapon. Outside Citadel 8B, a massive turbolaser mounted on a dais took aim into the sky and a piercing green lance beamed from its mouth and tore the pirate vessel in half. Layton smiled to himself. That'll show those pirates. No Hutt or Black Sun scum would hurt anyone on his watch! He straightened his coat, complimented his crew and returned to his office, starting up the holoprojector to speak to these newcomers. He was particularly interested in this new ship. It's design was truly marvelous. Beyond anything he'd seen. "Captain Jellico? The threat has been neutralized thanks to our combined efforts. I cordially invite you to Citadel 8-B to sample all I can grant in my humble station here on Antar 4." Meanwhile on the outskirts of the Citadel were a ragtag group who beheld the action that had just been visited into orbit. Specifically, a sullustan man with a blue cap and blue coat with a furred collar armed with a blaster carbine, a scarred up gungan warrior carrying a metal pike but with a carbine holstered as well, a magenta hued toydarian with a slew of gadgets slung around her, and a pantoran woman with a blaster rifle almost as big as she was. All of them wore some combination o the Sullustan's attire, like a loose uniform. "We have to call this in." Said the Sullustan. "Master Senotho has to know." The pantoran girl agreed. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > In the Catacombs, the training had ceased. All of the Antarian Rangers were on rotating shifts. Either at the ready to be deployed, or resting and waiting for their rotation time. Meanwhile, in a series of small chambers, Master Immanuel Senotho paced. He had his own quarters to serve his needs. Right now he stood in what he referred to informally as his Reliquary. Artifacts lined the walls, lightsabers and kyber crystals but many more from traditions outside of the Jedi. An eye pendent symbolizing the Greater Mark of Illumination for the Chalactan Adepts, a blessed bracket used as a Jagganath point counter for the Trandoshan Scorekeeper, and a statue of Doellin, the deity of a pacifist and teetotaler sect. Some of these were liberated from Imperial confiscation but others were gifts. Despite his dogged attempts to remain as anonymous as possible, it did seem that some had come to know of someone affiliated with the Antarian Rangers as a preserver of sacred and holy items. Specifically in this case though, Immanuel held his hand to his chin while using his other hand to support his elbow as he stared at a tapestry of stars. Woven by the long extinct prophets of Voss-Ka. A droid entered. Tall, humanoid, three eyes, one bigger than the other two, no visible mouth, with an ornate design and earthy tone color. "You wished to see me Master Senotho?" He asked. "Yes, Torah." Immanuel turned to greet the droid. "I was wondering if you could help me with something. I need information. Anything." "I do not have the Jedi Archives in my memory bank, Master," Torah said pointing to his head. "No, but you did spend quite some time there during your years of service to the order and you retain every conversation you've had or overheard." "In perfect detail, Master." He nodded. "Good. Then maybe you can help." He took a moment to collect himself. "I received a vision. It was clear but I can't decipher its meaning. I'm going to describe it to you. Tell me if any of it sounds familiar from what you've learned." Torah nodded. "There's this archer, he's wearing a robe of some kind, very ornate. He nocks an arrow and lets it fly across the stars. Then that same archer lets loose another arrow, now he's wearing intimidating armor. Somehow the two arrows meet each other head on, and now one of them has a . . . jewel or gem of some kind in its head. Then the arrows cross and there's a blinding flash." Immanuel stops. "The vision ends." Torah puts his own hand to where his chin would be and supports his arm with his other hand as Immanuel was doing earlier. "I'm afraid I can't recall any talks of similar symbols, Master." Immanuel sighed. "Oh well. Long shot anyway." The Jedi turned to go back to his pacing when Torah raised his hand. "If I may, Master." Immanuel turned back to the droid. "Perhaps you should review the holocrons?" "I've been over them Torah, I've learned all I can from them." "Perhaps. But the only mistake in retreading ancient wisdom . . . is to not." Immanuel thought for a moment and conceded. "Good point Torah." "Citation: Jedi Master Gnost Durall." Immanuel chuckled. Torah had to have timed that. "Very well. Let's see what we have," Immanuel said. Torah's chassis opened up to reveal a spinning tray with many empty holders, only three of which were occupied by glowing, gilded cubes. "Absolute Power: created by Jedi Master AND Supreme Chancellor of the Republic Biel Ductavis. Lightsaber combat with Tarre Vizsla, first Mandalorian Jedi. Or perhaps our greatest find, the Noetikon of Light." Torah explained with each holocron he pointed to. "Let's go with the Noetikon. Perhaps it will help me decipher this vision." "Of course." Torah nodded and a locking mechanism on his tray released. That's when another ranger burst in, Torah's tray snapping close to secure the holocrons. "Master Senotho!" Came a human messenger. "I'm so sorry to disturb you. There's an urgent message. The Citadel has just blasted to smithereens in orbit!" "Layton, what have you done now? Sorry Torah, the past will have to wait, the moment needs my urgent attention." He exited his reliquary to investigate what was happening.

<What the Hell?!> <Think we bit off more than we can chew!> The pirates did a hard turn to try and get back to the stolen carrier they were housed in. Meanwhile the captain, a Nikto wearing a patched up admirals full dress with clearly fake medals, tried to high tail it to hyper speed before his crew even returned, giving the Righteous Indignation a broadside of blaster cannons and proton torpedoes, actually hitting one of his own retreating ships. Not that he cared.

Minister Layton straightened himself up, despite the fact that this was a audio message and not a visual hologram. Although he didn’t recognize the names and call signs used, now was not the time. “They’re not mine! They’re space scum the regional Moff doesn’t care enough to crack down on. I have weapons to blast them from my orbit but they’ll take time you may not have!” As Layton scrambled to get his lax defenses online to protect the newcomers, the pirates were already dead set. <Hey boss! Check out these shinies. Ever see anything like them?> Said one of the Gran pilots in Hutteese. <Probably some bore core travelers looking for excitement out here. Let’s give them what they came for.> Replied the Hutt aligned Quarren commander. The main ship fired proton torpedoes, attempting to knock out the Star Fleet fighters engines and end the fight there.

"I don't care what he said about the Empire, sergeant, he's a fruit vendor not a rebel. Cut him loose or I'll have you thrown in that cell with him!" Minister Layton shouted over the comm before bringing his fist down to end the transmission. He rubbed the bridge of his nose while reaching under his desk with with his free hand and pulled out a small bottle of likstro. He cracked open the bottle and took a swig right before a RA-7 protocol droid sauntered in through the door of his office. He swallowed too hard too fast out of reflex and had a coughing fit. "Minister Layton. There's an unknown ship on the scanners," he reported in complete monotone seemingly unaware of Layton's reaction and drinking. "Thank you, ZK-6," he chocked out as he tried to clear his throat. Layton clicked a few buttons to bring up his holo-projector and see what and who this ship was. He was about to take a more easy sip when the display at last came up and he nearly dropped his bottle the same way he dropped his jaw. These were unlike any vessel he had seen before, and they matched none of the Imperial schematics on present and past vessels he learned from the Imperial Academy. Putting the bottle down and rising, he approached the display, trying to wrap his head around what he was seeing. They were small, probably only fighters but they're make was completely strange to him. An alert pinged on his holoprojector. Pirates! Hutt or maybe Black Sun affiliates. There were four of them. Three smaller ships and one hauler cobbled together from past captures. Quickly typing on his projector, he sent an alert to the unknown craft. "Attention! This is Imperial Minister Layton of Antar 4. We're tracking pirate ships bearing down on you!"

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far, away . . . It is a time of consolidation. The Galactic Empire makes efforts to solidify its power in the Inner Rim of the Galaxy, often with overwhelming force. In the wake of the Antar Atrocity committed by Moff Tarkin, meant to punish and humble the moon's population, unrest has sprung up on Antar 4. Multiple rebel cells, criminal cartels, and mercenary bands now run rampant in the marshlands, preying on the settlers that fled to escape Tarkin's cold culling. Amid the predation of vicious gangs and the Empire's indifference to their plight, the people have acquired a mysterious ally, the Antarian Rangers. This band of fighters emerge seemingly from nowhere to protect and rescue those in need before vanishing again into the wilderness. Rarely seen is their leader, a hooded figure that some attribute strange and wondrous power to. The Commission for the Preservation of the New Order, or COMPNOR, has disavowed these rumors and encourage citizens to report these Rangers if seen. Little does either side know though, that a far bigger threat to the Empire is about to emerge also seemingly from nowhere . . . "Governor, I'm telling you. Secure holding of this moon requires greater resources. I need Stormtroopers, walkers, anything!" The man yelled at the sharply dressed Imperial officer floating above him in the holoprojector, the only source of light in the dark room. "Minister Layton, I gave you command of that moon because I was under the impression that you could handle it after Tarkin's . . . relocation. Was I wrong to trust you?" In contrast to the governor, Minister Layton wore a brown uniform with gray rims on the collar and sleeves. Meant to mimic the garb of the local Gotal people while retaining Imperial uniform standard. Layton tried to backpedal from his previous statement. "No governor. You weren't. It's just that keeping the peace on Antar 4 has required making certain compromises with the locals. Compromises that wouldn't have been needed if I could bring more to bear against the criminal element. Even a single ISB agent would be of great-" he was cut off by the governor raising his hand and speaking. "As far as the Empire is concerned, Antar 4 is a settled matter with sufficient means to hold it. Unless there is a direct attack on Citadel-8B itself, there is no reason to send more men or material." Layton slammed a fist down on the holoprojector. The hologram shook with a distortion for a moment from the impact. "There are helpless people out in the Marshlands that refuse to come here to the Citadel! I can't protect them beyond these walls with what I have!" Minister Layton went from cowed to emboldened, a change in attitude ignored by his superior. "That is their choice to abandon the safety of the Empire. You have your answer Minister. Your request is denied." The hologram shimmered out and as the lights came on, a hooded figure was standing behind the Minister. "Having second thoughts on our agreement Minister Layton?" The figure spoke and Layton spun with panic. "How? How did you get in here?!" The figure pulled down his hood, revealing a Mirialan man with silvery hair and worn skin. "I asked you first." He gave a playful smile. His species didn't crack much in the skin area with age but the ravages of time nevertheless leave their mark in the dulled hue of a Mirialan's color. Layton took a moment to compose himself, adjusting his coat. "This can't continue forever. I've given you special dispensation but the Empire must be able to protect its own." "A priority clearly held at every level of command," the hooded figure nodded to the deactivated projector. Layton had no response. The visitor paced as he spoke. "We all have our weaknesses Minister. There's no shame in it, but we shouldn't embrace them." "Are you suggesting loyalty to my Empire is a weakness?" Layton pointed to himself. The man had his hands folded behind his back as he spoke. "Loyalty of any kind is a virtue, when exercised honestly. Not one you posses unfortunately. No, your weakness is fear. Fear that our collaboration will be discovered. Fear of what will happen to you if it is." Now Layton's finger pointed accusingly at his visitor. "I didn't ask for your help so I could be lectured." The man turned his head to the Minister. "You didn't ask for my help at all. I offered it." He started to walk toward Layton. "Did I ever tell you why?" Layton backed up against the projector and shook his head. "It's because I sensed something in you. Guilt, regret, shame. In some ways, you're very selfish Layton. Everything is your fault, your doing. When the Empire committed the Antar Atrocity, and you were systems away at a seperate command, you saw it as your doing and not Tarkin's. On the other hand, when you were given this command, suddenly it was your duty, your responsibility, your obligation to make up for what happened." The man stood aside and leaned against the projector just as Layton was. "You understood that these people have suffered enough. So to see them tormented beyond your walls when you throw open the gates and none will enter your refuge out of fear. It tears you up inside. That's why I reached out to you. It's why I appreciate what you do for the Rangers and myself." Layton shot an incredulous look and stood up. "What I do?" He pointed to the desk behind the projector and stormed over to it. "I've been sitting at this desk doing nothing, helping no one, saving no one." The man stood up and turned to Layton. "The governor refused your request. Your lack of ability is on him, not you. He'll never recognize your efforts, even some of my men don't, but I do and so does something bigger than any of us." Layton placed his hands on his desk and slumped his head. He turned and looked at his visitor. "Does it really matter? Does what I do count?" "You're one man telling an Empire that it's not doing enough. That definitely counts for something." Layton stood up and took a deep breath. "You might just make a believer out of me one day, Senotho." "A proud day more for you than me. In the meantime-" Senotho went wide eyed and lost his balance. He leaned on the projector for balance. "Hey! Are you okay?" To his own surprise, Layton rushed over to steady the Mirialan. "I'm . . . I'm fine. Just, tired I suppose. Thank you." He composed himself and walked a few paces to get his footing back. "In the meantime. Do what you can inside the Citadel. Protect those still here that the Empire won't. Leave the safety of the Marsh dwellers to me and the Rangers." "Okay. Wait! You never answered me how you got in here." Senotho smiled. "The same way I'm leaving it." Pulling his hood over his eyes, the lights suddenly blacked out. A moment later they came back on and the visitor was gone. > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > wipe > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > In a large cave complex, nicknamed by its inhabitants as the Catacombs or just the Combs, many men and women of different species carried out their business. Many usual military drills such as blaster rifle practice, obstacle courses, team tactical formations. Others though were unique to the Antarian Rangers. Daily mediation, lightsaber defense drills, and Jedi history (spotty or demagogic it could be at times.) Not all had proper uniforms due to lack of them to go around but the ones that did wore brown coats with white furred trim, and blue buckled boots, combat slacks, and covers (hats) on their heads. One notable exception to this was a bald man wearing proper armor, gray from age and spotted by blaster burns. His lower half partially mechanized with bracers along his legs. "Get that crate to logistics. Gotta be somethin' in there we can use. Even if it's just to throw it at the Empire." "By that logic, I'm the greatest weapon we have." Senotho said, announcing his presence to the old clone. Grid promptly turned on his heel and saluted. "General." Senotho returned the salute. "At ease old friend. There's something I need to speak to you about. Privately." Grid nodded and followed the General. They walked away from the mass of the Rangers and along a slim pathway hanging over the rocks below. "I'm confident my intel was correct." "The Minister tried to reach out to the Governor to expand the Empire's presence here on Antar 4. The governor turned him down and I was able to refocus his efforts on the home front." "It still don't sit right. Fraternizing with the enemy." "The Empire is merely a machine. Ruthless but passionless. You know more than most who are true enemy is, Grid." The two men came to a stop and looked at each other, Senotho's hands folded in his sleeves in front of him. "What happened?" "I felt something. It was a great tremor in the Force. Unlike anything I've ever felt before. Something's here. Something's coming." "What is it?" "I don't know. It's new. Not just to us but to itself. It doesn't feel like the Dark side though, quite the opposite. It's like . . . something clean and bright. Unmarred by hardship." "You're afraid though." "Yes. I am. Because with a disturbance in the Force this massive, and something so pure being its result. There is no way I was the only one who felt it." A moment of understanding passed between to the two veterans. "Your orders General?" "Put our scouts on alert. Put our deployed Rangers on guard and ready our main force here for deployment. I'll be meditating when you need me." He turned and walked further along the path. "Whatever is coming, the Sith won't be far behind."

Suddenly the nebula shifted. It grew more violent. The gravitational pull on the ship jumped by staggering degrees in a short time. No longer was the wormhole theoretical, it yawned open before their sensors, possibly their senses, like the great maw of Charybdis. What's more, in defiance of the known laws of nature. Coils of plasma latched on to the Righteous and drug it into the spacial abyss of the wormhole. The crew would only hae enough time to understand what was happening before they were pulled into the other side o the wormhole and jutted to another galaxy entirely.

As they got in closer, the crew would start to get odd signals. Amid the usual readings for such astronomical phenomena they would also receive these strange readings. They appeared not like something sourced within the anomaly because they weren't consistent like the waves of the ocean nor seemingly random like bolts of lightning. No, even if what was being received was a garbled mess, it was clear it was transmissions. The only place that such could be coming from though, was the other side. Which would mean this was indeed a wormhole. As they listened, the messages would come through stronger. Which would only mean that the wormhole is beginning to stabilize . . . and grow bigger.

On approach to the nebula, the astronomical phenomenon would begin to stir and react strangely. If they ventured too close, then bolts of plasma would begin to lash out into space like the grasping tentacles of a kraken from the ancient sea. What will they do? Has Star Fleet prepared them for this? Could it be that something lies on the other side?

The four were scouting deeper into the dense forest when they came to a creek. Phi lost her footing but Ko-Sovo, the padawan reached out to catch her. “Thanks Ko.” She said, not breaking the hold even after she got her footing. “S-sure.” The Palawan said with a grin. Immanuel shot the both of them a knowing smirk and they broke it up. Phi rushing ahead to join Creel. “You know I wasn’t quite sure about Phi joining the Rangers. I’m glad to say she’s brought me around,” Immanuel said. “Yes. She’s a good ally to have,” Ko-Sovo said. Immanuel shook his head. His padawan’s feelings were quite obvious. Not a conversation to have at the moment though. “Boss?” Creel called ahead. They jogged up to join him and Phi. “The treesah. They be turnin’ their faces best they can.” He pointed to the titanic trees and sure enough, some of them were almost bald on one side. Almost like they were turning away from something. “What could cause this?” Ko-Sovo asked. “I bet it’s some Star Fleet experiment!” Phi said. “If it is, I’d be relieved. I’m not certain though.” Immanuel said as he looked at the bizarre manifestation of nature. “Still, at least we now have a direction. Look to where the trees aren’t.” The Antarian Rangers and their Jedi then proceeded to follow their new heading.

What is good is unchanging and eternal. Two sagas so similar yet so different. One a legend of opposing seemingly insurmountable evil. The other a prediction of a bright and hopeful future. Equally benevolent, would they still be allies? Could opposing manifestations of good be enemies as bitter as they are against the collective strength of evil? Or will they overcome their differences to see their fundamental similarities? We open this question by presenting you with a memory, a recording, a log if you will.

@Cwanky Yona hug is best hug.

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far, away . . . From beyond the veil they came, with technology wondrous and ways strange. At the height of the Clone Wars, Star Fleet allied itself with the Separatists. Their case aided by the sudden disappearance of Count Dooku and the continued mystery of his master. Now the Republic and their Jedi allies are locked in a political stalemate with the newly equipped and emboldened Separatists, who are in turn being kept in check by their patrons. On a planet far from the front lines, a lone Jedi and his companions are investigating rumors of foul activity which could pose a threat to both the Republic and the Federation. The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace in orbit around the planet Noreg. It touched down in a small canyon, the dark rocks giving way to towering trees larger than some buildings. Out stepped an eclectic assortment of investigators. A young pantoran woman with a rile almost as big as she is slung on her back, a scarred up gungan warrior carrying a metal pike but with a carbine holstered as well, a young cerean man in a brown robe, all lead by a mirialan man also in a brown robe. The leader of party lowered his hood, his padawan following suit. "Yousa thinking there's trouble, Boss?" The gungan asked. He was holding his pike in both hands and scanning the area. "That's what the Council thinks. Calm yourself Creel. Be ready when there's cause to be." "How do you know there isn't master?" Asked the young cerean boy with his hair in a braid. He looked around, at the beauty of the canyon and the towering trees. "Do you hear the animals? The birds?" "I do master." "Exactly. All is at peace. For now at least, we're in no danger." "That's relieving to hear." Said the Pantoran. "Everything will be all right Phi. We're only here to investigate for now. Still, it would be prudent to keep your weapon ready. Let's move out." The party started away rom the ship.