STAR WARS: RETROSPECTION- Home

Coronet, Corellia

Celebration was in the air as Diktat Shyla Merricope’s emerald landspeeder drifted down the main street. Crowds surged on either side of the street, letting their cheers be heard as they hailed the Diktat for her political success. Merricope had achieved much for her short time in office, the latest of her victories being the lightening of taxes that the Republic had levied on Corellia. It may not have been much, but the Corellian people had never been fans of taxes. What taxes they did pay, thanks to Merricope, now went to organizations of their choosing.

But not everyone was satisfied.

Amongst the mobs of ecstatic civilians, one man stood with his arm in a sling. But the sling was just a ruse, a place to store his pistol. When the time came, that would be obvious to all around him. Especially to the Diktat. But not yet. She had to be closer.

The emerald landspeeder thrummed peacefully as it carried along, Diktat Merricope waving from the back seat with her husband at her side. Her flowing jade gown glimmered in the sunshine of the Corellian day. She smiled, basking in the happiness that she had caused.

Closer... come on, closer...!

It seemed to take forever for the landspeeder to finally reach him. When it did, the man stepped out of the crowd and onto the street. The sling and bandages fell away as he suddenly raised his pistol... and fired! The orange bolt ripped and scorched the air as it streaked towards the Diktat...

But it did not strike the Diktat. His suspicious movements had been noticed by the CorSec officer in the passenger seat, who threw himself in front of the bolt. It flashed as it burned into his shoulder, knocking him back on top of the Diktat and her husband. Cursing his bad luck, the man tried to fire again... but was knocked backwards off his feet as a green bolt burst into his chest, boiling his heart before he had hit the ground.

The CorSec officer driving the landspeeder had drawn his pistol in no time at all and seen to it that the would-be assassin would not fire twice.

Other officers clambered out of the speeders ahead of the Diktat’s and moved in on the body while the driver turned to look back to his fallen comrade. The crowd screamed in shock and protest of what had just happened.

“Valru, are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine, just kriffing dandy!” the injured officer replied. “Get us out of here!”

The engines of the Diktat’s landspeeder dropped their passive humming in favor of an intensive roar as the landspeeder zipped off down the street, carrying the Diktat away from the scene before any other assassins, if there were any, could appear and capitalize on the confusion.

“That was the second time this week!” Valru shouted from the back seat. “Second time, Trilanger!”

“I know,” the driver replied, grimly.

“CorSec can’t do this by itself,” Valru continued. “We can’t keep throwing ourselves in front of assassins’ blasters!”

Officer Trilanger contemplated this for a moment while Valru kept ranting. His friend was right, it was becoming too dangerous for CorSec officers to let the situation be. They couldn’t get to the bottom of things if they were too busy using themselves as meat shields.

Fortunately, he knew exactly who to ask for help.

Jedi Temple, Coruscant

"Initiating defensive trial."

The sturdy young boy, at the sound of those words, activates his lightsaber. The blue blade shimmers brightly, even in the white-walled training room that he was now in. The walls are perforated with holes large enough for the training remotes to drift through, which they do shortly after he ignites his lightsaber.

The boy is Sunda Zannashar, from a sturdy stock of people hailing from the mountainous world of Zurtan. From what you've observed so far, Roan, he is a remarkable lad. That's why you chose him, after all. He is an up-and-coming swordsman with a combat instinct even you can admire, for someone so young.

But perhaps his greatest weakness so far is his lacking in patience. This test will see how is developing in that field.

You watch through the transparisteel window as Sunda holds his lightsaber out in front of him. He cannot see; his vision is obscured by a helmet. You can feel him sensing for the remotes, trying to find them in the Force so that he can defend against them.

Yay! Roan again! Sweeeet...

*Come on Sunda, you can do it... Relax...*
Roan mutters under his breath in encouragement of his anxious yet young Padawan.

The remotes float in the air about Sunda, circling him, surrounding him. They hover meditatively, hissing as their repulsor-motors thrust them through the air.

Sunda does not move, anticipating the first attack.

Bzzt! The first remote fires, but Sunda is ready. He twirls his lightsaber behind him, catching the bolt with his blade. It dissipates with a sharp crackle.

He brings his lightsaber around in front of him, angling it to deflect the incoming shots from the next four remotes. His lightsaber hums and snaps with each deflection, the beams disappearing in a brief flare against his elegant weapon.

But the final remote maneuvers behind him, away from the other probes. It zings his shoulder, causing him to gasp sharply from surprise.

The six remotes circle up for another pass as he readies himself, falling into another defensive stance.

Roan takes a sharp intake of breath as the remote hit Sunda. Yet he still remains confident in his abilities.
Anyone else watching with him?

Master Kellan Gundark did drop by earlier to greet Sunda. It has only been a few months since you took Sunda on as your apprentice, and Master Gundark is a valued Jedi, especially after what happened on Zeiton...

But currently, Roan is all by his lonesome.

This time, Sunda is ready for the remotes, prepared for stealth the remotes may try to employ, such as on the last pass. All six bolts that are fired are smacked loudly into his blade and no harm is dealt him.

Sweet.
Roan applauds lightly as his padawan trumps the remotes.

This time, Sunda has grown more confident in the practice. He tries to perform a few flashy twirls in between deflections, though a bolt strikes the ground near his foot. He falls back to the standard routine, striking the bolts as they zip towards him.

About this time, you notice that you have company. An old friend, a human female Jedi Knight named Sky Ninabu. She dons white robes with a light gray cloak, and her fair hair is pulled back into attractive braids.

She was assigned to assist you on a mission to the farthest reaches of Republic space about a year ago. Planets on the fringe were funding pirate incursions into Republic space, and the Jedi Order sent you to convince them against this.

The pirates, of course, didn't like this, and your vessel was attacked and badly damaged. Sky offered no solutions, nor did you have any yourself, but you ended up being rescued by none other than Master Gundark and her Jedi team as they raced out into the unknown edges of space to stop Kuylen. The rest is history.

Sky did not continue on with you to Zeiton, of course. She returned to the Republic to report on the pirate mission and Gundark as well.

"Good day, Roan Trilanger," she greets, standing beside you.

Haha, way to bring her back.

"Same to you Sky, it's been quite a while hasn't it. How have you been?" Roan asks.

"Not bad at all," Sky says. "Just returned from a mission. The Council considered our business with the pirates incomplete."

Sunda continues to smack aside bolts; he is doing so rather competently. He really has a knack for this sort of thing. The lightsaber, of all his Jedi training, seems to be his calling. Very direct and physical. The obscurities of the Force seem to alude him, but he will learn.

"I assumed they may, it seemed rather incomplete when we left. As you can see as well, life has been far from dull here. Working with Master Gundark and Marcus has never been boring."

"I have never had the pleasure, I must admit," Sky says, "but I have heard much of them. They possess great wisdom, no doubt. I am sure you may be able to borrow from their wisdom in training your Padawan."

Sunda has fallen back into a comfortable defense, easily deflecting and stopping any bolts coming his direction. The remotes attempt a variety of angles and attack patterns, but he is adapting to each in turn.

"That is true. I do owe quite a bit to Master Gundark. And I am very proud of how Sunda is doing with his training."

"I have no doubt of that," she says, turning her attention to your Padawan as he deflects and deflects and deflects.

It seems that Sunda is becoming bored, however, and cocky now that he has developed his defensive routine against the remotes. While deflecting bolts, Sunda suddenly tries to whip his lightsaber up into one of the remotes. It buzzes out of his reach and stings his arm with a jolt from its weak blasters.

Roan has a sharp intake of breath at the lack of patience from his Padawan.
At Sky's last comment he turns to continue to observe.

Sunda is very quickly becoming frustrated that he cannot whack the remotes with his lightsaber, despite his prowess in evading them. You know that the remotes are going to a higher setting each time he acts against them, but he does not.

Eventually, the test ends. Sunda tries again to swipe at a remote, letting down his guard and focusing too much on his target. His lightsaber bisects the remote, but the other five get him from behind. The bolts sting his thighs and his legs briefly numb. He falls on his face, then thumps his fist into the floor once before getting to his feet.

"Seems he will need to learn patience..." Sky says, crossing her arms.

"Indeed, but that can be worked on."

"Of course."

Sunda emerges from the test room looking down-trodden. He clips his lightsaber onto his belt without looking up at you.

"Somebody must've set the remotes too high," he grumbles. "I don't get it."

"You did very well. You simply need to be more patient with the remotes."

"Patience does not win fights..." Sunda grumbles.