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Post by Rugs on Dec 2, 2020 10:50:41 GMT -5
Tsubasa looked at the rickey old speeder with all the warmth he might a barely-tolerated friend. It’d get them to where they needed to go, of course, but any hopes of relative comfort were quickly thrown away as they once again piled in. The trip at least wouldn’t be as bad as yesterday’s, spared the searing midday heat and with less people crammed atop the speeder.
Like his Sith companion, Tsubasa packed light for the journey ahead. Water, some food for if they found themselves away from the crater settlement longer than expected, his weapon wan-shen, and a rust-red cloak with angular cream patterns across it, gifted from one of the Weequay villagers to protect against the desert sun. Ifrit never more than a few feet away, perched faithfully on Tsu’s shoulder as the speeder revved up and the group departed on their journey.
Much of the ride stretched on in silence. Visarion had fallen into one of his contemplative states — which Tsubasa was beginning to recognized seemed to be a regular occurence for the Sith. Iqaal and the young warrior that accompanied occasionally conversed with each other in their native tongue, leaving Tsubasa alone with his thoughts as the speeder screamed over the rolling desert.
Tsubasa’s thoughts turned, as they frequently did, to Af’El, to the screams of the dying Defel doomed by the plan he and Visarion had set in motion. Fire from the sky, molten rock raining down as the Empire’s might crashed onto them with the furor of an angry god. Realistically, there was nothing they could have done, against the Imperial fleet. There was nothing they could have done to save all of the Defel in that doomed city. Nothing he could have done to heal the ones suffering from the horrible plague.
It all made sense in his mind but did nothing to ease his aching soul.
We will make things right for these people, Tsubasa silently swore as the speeder crested a dune.
Tsubasa barely had time to scan the horizon before he felt something change in the Force. It was subtle, at first, but grew stronger as the speeder raced on toward a distant black ridge.
“Yes,” he said to Visarion. “Something is wrong.” A pall shrouded the Force. It wasn’t the sick, diseased miasma that clouded the plagued city on Af’El, but it was something dark, and sinister. It was death, Tsubasa realized as they approached the small oasis near the entrance to a craggy canyon cut through the slick obsidian. “This isn’t natural,” he said quietly to Visarion. He trusted the Sith would take his meaning.
Death was a part of life. It came to everyone, eventually. There was no curse, no darkness in that. But death forced from one sentient being to another--that was a different matter altogether.
“We are here,” Iqaal said, translated through Ifrit. The young man’s tone, and mood, had darkened. “Take your fill, if you must.” The Wequay motioned to the clear water trickling through the little oasis. “From here on, we must go on foot.”
Tsubasa looked silently to Visarion, then Iqaal. “This is the pass then? The path the caravans take?”
Iqaal nodded curtly. “Yes, sahira. It has been... many months since anyone from our village has entered this canyon and returned. Only death has come to those who have entered.”
Like his Sith companion, Tsubasa packed light for the journey ahead. Water, some food for if they found themselves away from the crater settlement longer than expected, his weapon wan-shen, and a rust-red cloak with angular cream patterns across it, gifted from one of the Weequay villagers to protect against the desert sun. Ifrit never more than a few feet away, perched faithfully on Tsu’s shoulder as the speeder revved up and the group departed on their journey.
Much of the ride stretched on in silence. Visarion had fallen into one of his contemplative states — which Tsubasa was beginning to recognized seemed to be a regular occurence for the Sith. Iqaal and the young warrior that accompanied occasionally conversed with each other in their native tongue, leaving Tsubasa alone with his thoughts as the speeder screamed over the rolling desert.
Tsubasa’s thoughts turned, as they frequently did, to Af’El, to the screams of the dying Defel doomed by the plan he and Visarion had set in motion. Fire from the sky, molten rock raining down as the Empire’s might crashed onto them with the furor of an angry god. Realistically, there was nothing they could have done, against the Imperial fleet. There was nothing they could have done to save all of the Defel in that doomed city. Nothing he could have done to heal the ones suffering from the horrible plague.
It all made sense in his mind but did nothing to ease his aching soul.
We will make things right for these people, Tsubasa silently swore as the speeder crested a dune.
Tsubasa barely had time to scan the horizon before he felt something change in the Force. It was subtle, at first, but grew stronger as the speeder raced on toward a distant black ridge.
“Yes,” he said to Visarion. “Something is wrong.” A pall shrouded the Force. It wasn’t the sick, diseased miasma that clouded the plagued city on Af’El, but it was something dark, and sinister. It was death, Tsubasa realized as they approached the small oasis near the entrance to a craggy canyon cut through the slick obsidian. “This isn’t natural,” he said quietly to Visarion. He trusted the Sith would take his meaning.
Death was a part of life. It came to everyone, eventually. There was no curse, no darkness in that. But death forced from one sentient being to another--that was a different matter altogether.
“We are here,” Iqaal said, translated through Ifrit. The young man’s tone, and mood, had darkened. “Take your fill, if you must.” The Wequay motioned to the clear water trickling through the little oasis. “From here on, we must go on foot.”
Tsubasa looked silently to Visarion, then Iqaal. “This is the pass then? The path the caravans take?”
Iqaal nodded curtly. “Yes, sahira. It has been... many months since anyone from our village has entered this canyon and returned. Only death has come to those who have entered.”