Show Posts

This section allows you to view all posts made by this member. Note that you can only see posts made in areas you currently have access to.

Messages - Bleu

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 27
If there was any sign of incoming friction between Colwyn and his new master, the young padawan did not seem notice. Neither did he seem to consider the possibility that Adley might be of a different mind regarding the timing of finding a second kyber. In his young mind, there was no reason to wait any longer than was necessary for the mission. Further, Colwyn could hardly think what else someone could teach him with a single blade that he had not already mastered. 

No doubt, the padawan would inevitably be taught a lesson or two—or many—on humility.

So detached from concern was his attention, in fact, that his eyes were firmly settled on Kere as she retold her rather short anecdote. The green in them seemed to look into Kere with intent, overly curious as to what her lesson might have been. In that moment, it was lost on him.

“Red, you say?” It was a curious color, but in his mind, it held no further significance than that. It reminded him of his own interaction with his kyber, and the color it awarded him. The initial disappointment he had felt in his own lightsaber color had very quickly faded, and now it was little more than a piece of trivia.

“I don’t know,” Colwyn leaned back against his seat, crossing his arms and resting his fingers thoughtfully on his chin. “The connection to my kyber felt very natural—genuine. If there was anything that I was skeptical about going into that cave, it wasn’t the bond between crystal and Jedi.”

Unfortunately for his companions, this was enough of a bridge for Colwyn to go off on another one of his rants. The padawan spoke first of the connection between the kyber and the Jedi, and then he proceeded to elaborately recant his initial interpretation of the connection every living thing had with the force. The Force was then a crossroads to any and everything he valued about the Jedi way.

His enthusiasm was so intense that he only drew breath to thank the hostess as she arrived with their food, before continuing on his droll sermon.

“But you see, that’s why I think nourishment is so important! It is for the physical body what meditation is for the mind, wouldn’t you say? And of course meditation is something that I think everyone should do—the world would be much more peaceful if society just stopped to breathe a little.”

A shrug was indicative of a pause, and his eyes wandered to the platter of food he’d been unintentionally neglecting.

“When did the food get here?”

The challenge of revisiting the cave, however annoying it might be to Colwyn, was not enough to dissuade him from his wishes.

As Adley and Kere now knew, Colwyn hated feeling embarrassed. To him, it was almost synonymous with failing. A second kyber would allow him to truly explore different styles, and hopefully adopt of combination of them that would cover the gaps in his armor. He’d fail less often and master a truly defensive form.

“I don’t want to inconvenience our mission,” he insisted with a grin, “but I would still like to return for a second Kyber, whenever we have some spare time. Even if the cave embarrasses me again, it’ll be worth it. It’ll mean that I’ve learned something, yeah?”

Just as Kere and Adley had done for his story, Colwyn was sure to listen their retellings intently. It was amusing to hear how the cave treated everyone differently—how it seemed know exactly what they each needed to learn. In the end, they were all humbled by it, but they all came out the other side stronger. 

 “It’s curious, isn’t it Master Kenobi? How you and I were completely different people when we got our first kyber?” Then the padawan furrowed his brows, deep in thought. “Though maybe it’s not curious at all, when I think about it. There is strength in diversity, isn’t there?”

Maybe that’s what would help them become a great team. They shared the same core values, the same beliefs, and yet they were completely different people. It was a comforting thought, and it brought a smile upon the padawan’s face.

“What about you, Master Jinn? What did the cave teach you?”

“Oh good,” said the padawan upon hearing that Kere would not be flying them to their destination. He was not a fan of needlessly turbulent flights, and it showed on his expression of relief.

When Kere pressed for his Kyber crystal story, he gave a firm nod.

“Alright,” said Colwyn brightly, as if the young padawan needed an excuse to talk about himself. As Kere and Adley would inevitably find out, he didn’t.

“This was a few years ago, you’ll find. It was a group of six of us that had been picked to fly to Christophsis, where we’d have to venture into a crystalline forest, find a kyber cave, and retrieve our kyber crystals from inside. Oh boy was I excited to prove myself to my Masters! I knew I had it in me. I just needed to find a way to show it. As if the pressure wasn’t already enough, I remember well that I was the youngest youngling of the group—possibly the youngest youngling ever, am I right?” A proud huff and an eyebrow wiggle.

“Anyways, so there I am, thinking to myself that this is something I’m supposed to be doing on my own, but these kids cling to me. I decided to go left to find this place, and where do they go? Left! I pivot, they pivot. I run, they run. Listen, this keeps happening even at the point where we find and go into the cave. I’m thinking—okay, they’re going to stick to me like glue this entire mission—and that’s when things start getting weird.”

Colwyn leans forward on his seat, resting his elbows on the table as he tells his story.

“One second, the younglings are behind me, but then a second later, they’re gone. I’m thinking that this is perfect—they’ve gone out on their own, and I’m no longer lugging around this heavy weight with me. So I go on my merry way, trying to let the force lead me to where I have to go to find my crystal, but somehow this feels different. The crisp air feels different on my skin, and it feels like I am witnessing the force through a muddy filter—like if the very source of life is distorted. When I finally see my companions through the crystalline walls, I believe what they tell me—and they try to help me—but I know better than they do.”

“So as the smartest person in the cave, what do I do? I thank them, but I ignore what they are saying. They tell me to go left, and I go right. They tell me to keep going, and I go back. These kids are older than I am, but there isn’t a single thing that they can do that I can’t do better.” At this, Colwyn sighs, and instead of his typical smile, his face wears a slight frown. “At least that is what I thought at the time. And there was no convincing me otherwise!”

“Before I know it, my pride causes me to lose my way within the cave, and then things get scary. The more that time passes, the more that I feel like I’ve failed. My mind is jumbled, and I suddenly can’t retrace my steps. What’s worse is that my companions have now left me, and I am alone wishing that they were still chained to me. What a hypocrite, right?”

“It shames me to admit to it, but it takes me way too long to realize that my own brain is working against me. I stop in my tracks, and I sit down to meditate and become one with the Force. This is my last resort, and I know not what else I need to try. What I realize then isn’t that the Force can answer all of my questions, but that it was never really my last resort at all.”

“I couldn’t really see me, but I guarantee you that my face was red with embarrassment when I called to the other younglings for help. The same idiot youngling that had wished solitude in this task was now asking for assistance. Go figure,” he breathed out and shook his head.

“Needless to say that it was a lot easier to find my crystal after that. The mist that had settled on my mind had lifted, and when I made it back outside, I realized that I was one of the last ones to leave the cave. We decided to stick together on our way back to the ship.”

Colwyn watched the interaction between Adley and Kere carefully, and although he could feel the friction between them, he suspected that this particular topic of conversation was one the two had previously discussed.

It was a testament to the strength of their friendship, despite such opposing views.

Truthfully, Colwyn didn’t understand how someone that was raised in the Order, like Kere, could be so open to give equal power to an order that had historically and directly opposed the Jedi. It went against all of their teachings. It might have been unfair for the Jedi to try and keep the Sith from resurrecting without truly understanding them, but wasn’t that still better than the alternative? The pursuit of power at any cost led to disaster—it led to war.

There was comfort in witnessing that Adley seemed to be equally against Kere’s consideration, but Colwyn didn’t press the topic of conversation. If Adley wanted to move to another topic of conversation, the padawan would show no resistance. Colwyn intended, however, to find a time to speak with Kere alone.

Colwyn sipped at his iced water and then leaned back on his seat, hands together and fingers entwined. His emerald eyes briefly lingered on Kere before they returned to Adley.

‘The wise learn from observation.’

“I suppose we ought to wait to hear what the Tarkins have to say, huh?” There was a hint of a smile on the padawan’s lips. If this brief exchange was any evidence, things would not go very smoothly. “Are either of you gifted at piloting? I should admit, if there is a single area where I consider myself lacking—maybe lacking isn’t the right word, disinterested, yeah, disinterested—it would be in flying a ship. Never found any passion for it, you know? Do you all have ships? I think the last time I was on one was when I was youngling, and a group of us went to find our Kyber crystals. That was a journey, a story for another day, perhaps.”

At Adley’s response, Colwyn simply nodded his understanding. It would be unwise to make any such assumptions without knowing the entire story—and the padawan took note of what was expected of him.  At Kere’s response, however, Colwyn could not fight back the quizzical brow the graced his face. Was Master Jinn seriously open to the idea of having the Sith in equal standing to the Jedi?

Unfortunately, the young boy was interrupted before he could pose his query.

The waitress had returned to take their order, and the Padawan did not miss a beat to place it. Unsure how to pronounce the name of his meal, he simply pointed to the item in the menu, and expressed his rehearsed gratitude.

After the waitress took Adley and Kere’s order next, she promptly dismissed herself once more.

“I really like it that you’re frank with me, Master Jinn,” said Colwyn, the surprise that came from this new information was already mentally filed and put away. The padawan again spoke with the comfort he had shown before, and he seemed unperturbed. “If it were up to you, how would you handle the Sith trying to join the ranks of the Senate?”

Colwyn was curious as to why Kere felt so strongly about allowing the Sith to share their side of the story. Sure, it was possible that the history archives might have been unfair in their representation of the Sith, but their opposition of the Jedi was hard to contest. Whatever their intent might have been, it had been made clear to Colwyn that they countered the peacekeeping efforts of the Jedi Order.

‘Don’t make unfair assumptions,’ he reminded himself.

As Adley gave his answer, Colwyn’s expression visibly darkened. Though this came as a surprise to the young padawan, his emotions remained calm and collected. He understood the severity of the situation, and it showed across his face, but he excelled in keeping a cool head when it came to external matters. This was especially true when it came to the more serious influences—like the Sith, and the dark side of the Force.
‘Well, this isn’t good.’

The importance of his progression as a Jedi suddenly felt very real—as if he were only now exposed to the cruelties of the world outside of the academy. His mind had accepted it as soon as he’d heard, but these complications put them into action. It made them real.

Another sip from his iced water and the padawan crossed his arms, lettings his thoughts formulate in his mind.

If the Senate could somehow be forced to include the Sith in their ranks, then the Sith was already likely exerting their influence. If not through the Tarkin family directly, then by any of these “proponents” that would follow their lead. One of the things that Colwyn had learned with absolute certainty, it was that the Sith could hide very well, biding their time in the place one would least expect.

“That’s quite a bit worse than what I was expecting,” he chuckled to himself, though he remained serious after the fact. “If the Tarkins are lobbying to include the Sith in the Senate, then the Sith are already out there. Perhaps I was foolish to think that they had disappeared.”

Brief disappointment, and then another thought, “Geez, that would be awful, wouldn’t it? Imagine it, the Sith in the Senate…”

It didn’t take much for Colwyn to realize that the Tarkin family—the one they would endeavor to meet in the coming day—were still maintaining the problematic nature that had been evidenced in their history. Sure, some of the details of such history had been blurred (no doubt by their hand) and depended entirely on where one did their reading, but in truth it was the strength that their name carried that kept it largely unspoken.

Colwyn quickly gathered that their influence likely stretched much further than what the history archives indicated. Politics were usually so.

At least Adley and Kere didn’t seem to have a relationship with the family just yet.

“Sometimes I forget that the force, as easy as it is for us to see it and witness it, can easily be overseen by those who aren’t sensitive to it. That being said, I’m not sure that I would consider their ignorance of the Force as an excuse to hinder it.”

From how Kere seemed to speak of them, it certainly sounded like things could easily become antagonistic between the Tarkins and the Jedi Order. In his mind, Colwyn noted the importance to try and ease the tension and maintain the peace between the two, especially if their influence was greater than anticipated.

Before he could expand on his thoughts, the drinks were promptly delivered. Colwyn took a sip from his iced water, taking a quick look at the menu and placing it back down as soon as he found something inexpensive that came with greens. Just as soon as the hostess dismissed herself to give them more time, the young padawan turned to look at Adley once more.

“Is that what we’re being sent to do? Trying to ease any tension and miscommunication between the Tarkin family and the Order?” History gave Colwyn little comfort, but he understood that it was only fair to give the family the benefit of the doubt. Absently, the boy's fingers used the force to twirl the small chain that hung from his earring as he pondered his own question.

Colwyn offered Adley a warm smile when he sat beside him. Unusual, but again, welcomed.

Even with Colwyn’s attention occupied elsewhere, the young padawan caught the look Adley gave to Kere when she spoke her drink order. To Colwyn, it was as clear as day that Master Kenobi was trying to make a point to him, one with subtlety. Whether the infraction was the nature of the beverage or its history, he would investigate later.

“Is that who we’re off to see, Master?” The boy’s gaze shifted from Adley to Kere, and back. Colwyn was familiar with the name, their involvement with the Empire, and their ruthless reputation. What could they want with such a family during a time of peace?

‘I suppose we’ll find out.’

Apparently Grand Master Billaba’s will was manifested in Kere joining the two of them to go meet the family. For a moment, Colwyn wondered whether Kere’s probation was merely a more obvious reason for their unity, an excuse that masked a grander ulterior motive.

“Do either of you have any history with the family?”

The word ‘misfortune’ did not paint a pretty picture, after all.

Green eyes scanned the restaurant’s curious sign.


Such was not a place the young boy had been to before. Colwyn did not get out much, as most of his free time was spent either crafting his jewelry, reading at the library, or practicing the day’s teachings again and again on his own.  Where others might have exercised their freedom by exploring such attractions, Colwyn saw little point in it. He wanted to become a peacekeeper—the best one in all the galaxy.

Not that the others offered him an invitation to go out, anyway.

Shoving the thought aside, Colwyn gave Kere a shrug as the trio walked through the restaurant’s aisles and towards the place where they would be sitting. “If there is a way for me to tinker with my lightsaber to avoid getting another crystal, I’m certainly open to entertain the idea. I made my lightsaber’s hilt in such a way that when I make the second, I can attach them both together.”

The hostess motioned with her hand once they had arrived at their table. Colwyn naturally glided to the chair furthest from the walkways and the kitchen, the one where his back would be facing the wall while he sat. 
“I appreciate that, Master Kenobi. I remember well what designs I have been studying recently. We can talk about that after we go over our schedule for tomorrow.”

The young padawan wasn’t used to being so warmly acknowledged, so the pleasant feeling that came from his being frank was a welcomed surprise. He wanted it to last, and so he refused to dwell on what history predicted would happen.

“Water with lots of ice, please,” he told the hostess after she inquired after their drink order.

Colwyn took to his chair, the brown of his robes illuminated by the fire that lit up the entire area. The fire and the warmth didn’t bother the padawan in the slightest. In fact, Rivoche’s entire atmosphere was intriguing to him. It had only been a few seconds after he’d sat down, and he was already looking around to take it all in.

The padawan’s desire was rightly assumed. Colwyn gave a nod to Kere first, and then offered the same to Adley. He’d spoken about such desires to his masters before, but he’d not had the opportunity to see it through, and neither did his pressure gather any traction.

It wasn’t a priority by any means, but Colwyn did want to at least have his new Master know that he was on the lookout for another crystal—for him to realize that there was still a part of his combat style he wanted to explore.

“I’d like to give it an honest shot, double wielding,” he further clarified as the trio walked further into the business district. “I’ve trained with practice sabers before, but not to the point where I feel comfortable with it. In fact, I’m more interested in a double-sided blade. I don’t mean to force my style one way or another, but I won’t know what feels right for me if I don’t try, right?”

Then, he huffed, putting his hands at his waist once more. “That being said, we don’t have to talk about that now,” then with a grin he added, “I don’t want to distract from our mission tomorrow, and I also know that my training consists of very many facets, only one of which is combat training.”

The grin then transformed into a simply warm smile. “Thank you, Master Kenobi—and you too, Master Jinn—for listening to me ramble on.”

When Adley responded to Colwyn’s query with one of his own, the padawan offered him a nod of understanding.

“I don’t know much outside of what I can remember from our history archives here in the temple,” he responded as they walked. “Eriadu is a system in the outer rim, had some history with slavery. A big trade center that was under Imperial control in the past, and the birthplace of Wilhuff Tarkin, who was a captain—or maybe he was an admiral—of the Empire and oversaw the operations of the infamous Death Star.”

Colwyn’s hand scratched at the back of his head as his mind tried to scramble some of the other note-worthy events that he might remember from the planet. Admittedly, the padawan would be in no position to accurately provide insight in the current happenings of the planet, however, which was a little unnerving.
“If I’m being honest,” his emerald eyes looked to Adley once more, careful. “I know I’m getting ahead of myself—I know that. I was asking about our busy schedule not because I presume to know much about the planet, but because I was hoping we would have some time to…,” Colwyn bit his lip, as if unsure how to pose his internal dilemma. “I was hoping to find another kyber crystal.”

With Kere’s hand atop his head, Colwyn brushed her tease aside with a casual wave of his hand. Even if the young padawan didn’t exactly know what she had meant about him ruining his new master (though a little part of him did seem to acknowledge it), he was observant enough to notice that it had been said mostly in jest.


“I’m sure you meant inspire,” corrected Colwyn with a grin as the trio walked.

Then the talk of food continued. As the friends carried on with their conversation, Colwyn shifted his gaze from one to the other, analyzing them curiously. It took not a keen eye to notice that these two had a rare friendship.

“Eriadu?” The topic of their incoming mission the following day killed his silence. “Is that where we’re going? Whoa—well then, to indulge in the food from the Seswenna feels particularly appropriate, does it not?” After a breath of brief consideration, he continued. “We’ll have a busy schedule, I take it?”

Colwyn turned to look at Kere, a smirk forming on his face. “I try not to, too,” he said regarding his own nature, “feels too much like lying, doesn’t it?”

Then, the Padawan turned to Adley. He contemplated the query for a second as he led the way out of his quarters and back into the general area. The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he preferred, but perhaps that he simply did not mind delegating the decision to someone else.

“Honestly, I find that I am not picky with what I eat. I used to think that I was, because I’m generally very picky about everything—and if you’ve asked what others have to say about me, I’m sure they have since told you the same. See, sometimes I feel like I’m in the mood for something spicy—maybe something Coruscanti—and I will swear to the skies that I’m certain with my decision, but then a minute later I am changing my mind and preferring something green, something fruity, or something stew-y.”

“Thinking more on it, perhaps something Corellian, since they have some variety there. Admittedly though, you can also not go wrong with our local Gatalentan food, am I right? Plenty of greenery, and then some to spare! I suppose that’s not all there is to consider in picking a dining venue, however, as some could argue that what you want to drink is equally important as to what you’d like to eat. To that I say—give me something with a kick and drown it with ice!”

“But not too much ice,” Colwyn touched a finger to his lip. “I don’t want to be asking for another and another because all they give me is ice! Though I suppose that would be better than them giving something warm to drink, that is just simply not acceptable, is it? Maybe I am picky then?”

Colwyn shook his head, finally ending his brief rant. “I suppose what I am trying to say, is that I am okay with whatever cuisine you and Master Jinn prefer, Master Kenobi. As long as I don’t have to drink something steaming, I am happy to just tag along.”

“Bigger than this?! Probably big enough to do saber work, then!” His mind fetched his lightsaber, and it flew from its holster to his hands, an immediately defensive position. After a couple pretend parries, it returned to its rightful place against his waist.

Truly, it was unbelievable. The fact that things could only get better was exciting, and he endeavored little to hide it. Why should he? It was finally his time to enjoy the progression, and he would fight whomever tried to dampen his spirits. So far, everything was just getting better and better, and he was trying not to think about when his streak would finally run out.

Upon hearing that Kere’s room was overly packed, he let out a breathy chuckle. “You do seem like the Jedi that would have a cluttered room,” the words left his mouth before he could stop them—not that he would have, anyway. “Though if you can make the sand dance to your tune with such ease and precision, I ought not question your methods.”

Then a playful huff. “Get situated, right,” his hand pushed his belongings further into the room without truly touching them.

The young Padawan walked to the far end of the room and opened his trunk. He immediately retrieved from within the many boxes of earrings and chains, organizing them neatly on the side—perfectly symmetrical and in a way that indicated his need for perfection. When his robes had been uniformly folded and stored away, he returned to Adley and Kere.

It had been but a minute, and he was already settled. “Ready when you are Master Kenobi, Master Jinn.”

As the door opened, Colwyn turned back around and sauntered into the room without a care in the world.

“Oh wow,” he muttered out as he paced. His eyes scanned it all over, multiple times, and regardless of (or perhaps because of) the simplicity of the room and objects he found therein, his happiness was palpable, evidenced by the smile that was etched across his freckled face. The glint in the green of his eyes had a spark in it, and it made him look his age, despite how hard he might have tried to seem older.

The young padawan used the Force to smoothly pull his belongings into the room, half-turning to see just how he would make his meditating work. The lack of possessions in his quarters made the possibilities endless, and it was absolutely thrilling.

Colwyn’s immediate planning was interrupted by Kere’s queries, and he beamed. “It feels immensely satisfying,” his tone suggested that even he was finding it hard to believe, like it was too good to be true. “To be under the direct tutelage of a Jedi Knight, and learn first-hand about the importance and meaning of being a true peacekeeper? There’s nothing better than that, I imagine. I can finally hone my skills, truly focus on the path I want to take, and practice what I want to do! It feels more real than I could have ever anticipated.”

Then his hands motioned to the room, as if showing it off. “And take a look at this room! It’s perfect, isn’t it?” Hands moved to his hips, taking another turn about the room. “There is literally no useless junk in here—no clutter and no distractions—and there is plenty of private space for me to do my meditating! I can do my stretches, practice my flips and my spins, train—whenever I want!”

Colwyn breathed out, exasperated by his good fortune.   

“Colwyn Junda, Jedi Knight. It all starts here.”

“Ahsoka Tano would have been a great one,” the Padawan agreed wholeheartedly. Ahsoka was another one that he wished he could choose as his patron.

If Colwyn was even slightly bothered by Kere’s constant rebuttals, he didn’t let it show. If he were honest with himself, it actually felt better to be challenged than it did to be ignored. Most of the younglings that he had left behind, and even some of the teachers, had gotten so used to his endless monologues that they hardly engaged him in conversation anymore. He told himself that he didn’t care, and always went on his merry way. 

“All I mean is that some of them could have been Jedi, if the Order hadn’t fallen,” he insisted with a dismissive shrug. “As for me, I want to take Junda’s name tomorrow—though Kestis has always been a second choice for me. There are so many great Jedi throughout history, it was hard to narrow down the list! This has been something I’ve given a lot of thought of, however, so my mind has been made up for some time now.”

As they walked through the barracks main square, Colwyn’s emerald eyes seemed to scan every nook and corner. It was fascinating to finally be taking steps towards his future, and it had never looked so bright. Though distracted, his steps were still filled with purpose, and his eyes with unbridled hope.

“I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to walk through here as a Padawan,” he mused as they turned into the area designated for Padawans. It was quiet, but in a way that was calming and serene. Colwyn would finally get the privacy to meditate without prying eyes, to train without the constant supervision of his superiors. He could make more of his jewelry, without having to explain everything to the younglings!

When the trio came to a stop, it was Colwyn who broke the silence. “Is this one it?” He pointed to the door closest to him, but then his gaze shifted to the door adjacent to it. “Or can I pick any of these?” The green of his robes danced as he turned, shifting his gaze between Adley and Kere.

The sight of the Jedi barracks did not dissuade the young Padawan from continuing his verbal journey.

“That is what I was asking about,” confirmed the Padawan coolly, unperturbed by just how quickly his mind moved from one question to another—often times without consideration of the other end of the conversation. In his young and naive mind, it only mattered that he understood what he was saying. “But don’t you think that by means of their involvement, even if they didn’t have a direct hand in rebuilding the order, that they didn’t exert influence in the actions of those that did? It is precisely of Jarrus that I speak—he wasn’t knighted was he? That fact alone absolves him from candidacy?”

A deep sigh escaped Colwyn as they walked.

“Cal Kestis was another like Jarrus, except that he was knighted by Cere Junda while they tried to restore the Jedi Order. Speaking of those two, weren’t they just great? They had the tenacity and the discipline to seek out that holocron of young force-sensitives, and when they had it within their grasp, they chose to destroy it because they didn’t believe they had the strength to see it through.” In his excitement, he had begun walking on his tip-toes. “See, that is why I admire Kestis and Junda so much. They had complete faith in the force, more so than they did in themselves! But shouldn’t Jarrus be eligible to be a patron to me just as well? What would happen if tomorrow I ask the Grand Master Billaba to take in Jarrus’ name?”

The thought of it gave young Colwyn pause. Would they laugh at him?

That is my worry,” he confirmed to Adley with a weak smile. “That I may want to pick someone’s name—and that person might not be eligible in the eyes of the Jedi council. I know it really isn’t an issue, but it is a very important decision for me. It is the name that I will carry with me when I become a Jedi, and when I leave my very own legacy. I want to be remembered as someone who fought for continued peace, and I want my name to mean something.”

Emerald eyes turned to Jinn again. Was she going to fight him every step of the way? The challenge was actually a welcomed surprise. So far, it was endlessly more satisfying conversing with experienced Jedi, much more so than with the companions he had as a youngling.

“So you think I would choose saving my reputation over admitting my mistake? See, I have no problem admitting when I am wrong,” countered Colwyn confidently. “After all, learning when I am wrong only makes me see where and how I can be better. That doesn’t make me not want to fail though—why would I want that for myself? If I had a choice between learning about something that would prevent me from failing, instead of learning from that same lesson from the failure after, wouldn’t that be preferable?”

Colwyn’s tone was light, as if the statement had been something he had considered many times before—and it was. Colwyn hated embarrassing himself, especially in front of his superiors. That was something born into him that he didn’t think he could change, even if he could attempt to mask it. Masking it, however, felt too similar to lying, and he refused to do it altogether. So what if Colwyn was angry when he failed? He wanted to strive for perfection, and always perform above what was expected from him. Sure, he’d be moody after a failure (and honestly, who wouldn’t?), but he wasn’t an angry person.

As the trio continued to walk, Colwyn seemed to forget where they were going. It wasn’t as important to him as the conversation that had developed between them. After Jinn, he eyed Adley curiously, needing no more time to gather his retort.

“Regarding your question, Master Kenobi—I mean everybody,” said Colwyn pointedly, “the padawans, younglings, and force-sensitives that survived Order 66 after the clone wars, and especially those that we don’t talk about here in the academy. I am sure there are multitudes of names that we don’t learn in our history lessons because the Jedi order had collapsed. Despite that, I feel their legacy in the air that I breathe. I sense it in the brown and green of the trees, and I see it in the steps we take. Sure, it was Rey who had an obvious hand in rebuilding the Order we’re all a part of now, but there were voices that guided her along the way, weren’t there?”

In his dreams, Colwyn had heard them. Faint whispers, even if not always discernable, that paved the way to a peaceful future. They showed him how to feel the force around him, how to channel it, and when to sate his curiosity. Were these voices even real, or just fictional memories that he had conjured while he slept? They certainly felt real, and Colwyn wanted nothing more than believe them to be genuine. 

“I don’t know,” he sighed, resting his closed fists against his hips as he walked—eyes closed and nose sky-high. “I know I shouldn’t try to change how things are done around here, but sometimes I can’t help but feel that we aren’t understanding the whole history of our Order. How do you cope with it, Master Kenobi? Whenever you see something you don’t understand, or you can’t quite agree with?”

At Counsellor Jinn’s words, Colwyn could only frown. Did this mean that he was going to be tested to a level that his experience couldn’t feasibly reach? Was this because he was now a Padawan, and thus held to a higher standard? As a Youngling Colwyn had never truly felt tested—not in the way that was impossible it made the future frightening. The mere thought of failing in front of his superiors made him nauseous, and he dramatically clutched at his stomach as if there was nothing worse in the entire galaxy!

The young Padawan moved quickly from his dramatic gesture, and in turn focused on his new master. Master Kenobi’s response to his query was enough for Colwyn to try and focus on something else, something that didn’t quite make him want to pull at his hair in desperation. He listened intently, making special note as to see why Adley had made his decision. What did he admire? What did he want to live up to?

“Such devotion to the light is certainly admirable,” Colwyn agreed with an over-the-top nod. “But there is something about carrying on the legacy of the Jedi, even after the Order had fallen, that seems particularly heroic, don’t you think? To see past your own needs, and look to what the future needs from you? What do we make of all those would-be Jedi that fought the good fight and weren’t able to be knighted because of the Order’s absence?”

Though rhetorical, Colwyn couldn’t help but ponder his own question. He had made his decision long ago, but he wondered whether his motivations aligned with those of Master Kenobi, and whether they each valued the same characteristics. Would Master Kenobi be proud of his decision?

After walking alongside the two, Colwyn’s mind still snapped back to that which continued to bother him. He could never leave those problems behind, could he?

“Many more times?” He suddenly turned to Counsellor Jinn, repeating her words indignantly. “Why if only admitting failure, however gracefully, were enough to avoid the shame that it tasks me with. I have always been good at improvising on the spot—truly, you should have seen me the other day when the masters set up an obstacle course for us, I was great—but to know that it will not always help me succeed, well that’s just disheartening isn’t it?”

Did it count as boasting when it was true?

Just as quickly as the panic came, when the sand scattered messily across the room, did it fade when the it refilled the vial before his very eyes. Their green intensity followed the colors as they moved through the air, and Colwyn felt a pang of anger in his chest. It was an enviable talent to be able to do such a feat, and he was upset that his attempts had been so poorly planned.

Maybe if he’d created a small cyclone? He might have been able to lift the sand from the floor without actually using the force on the many grains. He would just need to adjust the strength of the gust to make sure only the sand was pulled in. Still—that’s not what Counsellor Jinn had done. No, she had control of every single grain, and she moved them with such grace! He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t already seen it with his own eyes.

Colwyn turned to look at Counsellor Jinn, and although the anger caused by his failure was obviously etched into his scowl, he gave her a firm nod.

These two Jedi weren’t like the teachers he faced every day, were they?

“It was harder than I anticipated, Counsellor Jinn,” he confessed, and the anger in his voice seemed to lessen after every word. “I am not used to failing so publicly,” the next was to Kenobi, “I apologize, Master.”

By the time he went on to confirm that the trunk indeed carried his only possessions, there wasn’t a trickle of resentment in his voice. He twirled his saber in his hand a few times before bidding the place farewell.

Colwyn followed Master Kenobi out, feeling no need to look behind to where he’d just been. Throughout his life Colwyn has always adapted very quickly, and he didn’t let what had happened in the past linger with him as he moved forward. He retained knowledge, memories, and left everything else behind.

“Master Kenobi,” Colwyn said as he walked besides him, only about a half step behind. “Why did you pick Kenobi as your patron?”

Colwyn had only just finished packing when he felt the sand fall all around him. It went everywhere—all around the room, into his trunk, and all over his jewelry. For a moment, Colwyn stood frozen in his place.

It wasn’t that he was angry that Jinn had chosen to challenge his bold remarks so quickly, but that the mess the sand had created was such that it threatened to paralyze him. This was the exact kind of mess that caused him to panic, and the reason why he was an obsessively clean person. There was something in him that he couldn’t quite control yet, and it was linked so heavily to disorganization.

He was literally living his worst nightmare, and it showed on his pale and panicked expression.

“I—I… err…,” he stammered taking a few steps back to try and jolt himself out of his panic-induced phobia. “I can do this,” he spoke mostly to himself, closing his eyes briefly before reassessing his nonexistent plan.

Master Kenobi and Counsellor Jinn were looking at him, and he needed to do the task that was asked of him. There was no time to freak out about it. He needed to show them—to show him—that he had not made a mistake in picking him.

“Okay,” he said again, pushing his arms forward. Colwyn tried to encourage himself by remembering that he could lift much heavier items than the other initiates, heavier than even some seasoned Padawans.

He knew where the vial was—he could do this!

The force moved through his hands, but it wasn’t working quite how he had expected. The sand was moving away from his grasp in a way he didn’t recognize. The sensation was reminiscent of reverse magnetism, with items being pushed away instead of being pulled in.

Colwyn quickly switched gears, trying to adopt the idea of a force net, instead of a magnet. The concentration he needed was unbelievable—he had to close his eyes just to feel it clearly flowing from his hands. A large majority of the sand below him began to rise around him, but when he tried to manipulate the direction in which to move it, it fell back to the floor in a splash.

“Ah—!” His disappointment manifested in an angry whispered growl.

Colwyn listened intently as Jinn spoke, for the moment perplexed that she had not decided to become a Knight with such a prominence for control of the force. Controlling every spec of sand? That sounded extremely cool! Despite how impressive he thought it to be, the young padawan did not let such a compliment cross his face in any way.

“I bet I could do it,” he added instead as he walked, giving Jinn a knowing look and a slight grin. “I know you might not believe me because of the little spill I had back in the grand council room, but you should see me when I have not been given the surprise of my life. Me and the force, we’re like this,” he pressed his index finger to his thumb. “We’re basically glued together, that’s how tight we are.”

Colwyn turned to look at Master Kenobi. “So you mean we will go on our adventures together, with her? I suppose that’s alright—I might learn things from the both of you, if that’s the case. Although, Master Kenobi, I’m sure you’re wary of having me learn from someone who is on probation.”

Into the common area they went, and Colwyn gave his peers a show of a lifetime. He walked with confidence and grace, nose in the air with how proud of himself he was. Every step was a show of power and now superiority. Without a word to the initiates, he kept walking across the room with purpose. Seemingly unbeknownst to him (or perhaps it was because he simply didn’t care), his ex-colleagues were actually trying their best not to burst into wild laughter at his parade.

After a quick scan of the room before they left, Colwyn was a little thankful that Silos and Kang were nowhere to be found. He would have preferred to speak to them privately after his debacle earlier in the morning—that way he could apologize properly.

Eventually Colwyn led the trio into the sleeping quarters. His bedding was laid out against one of the many walls. The entire area was clean, but the section that he had invisibly marked as his own was almost absurdly clean. Everything looked like it had been measured and organized to absolute perfection. His trunk was open, and it consisted mostly of jewelry and a few spare robes. If there was a single spec of dust, it’d be hard to spot.

“This is all I have,” he motioned with both his hands ceremoniously. “Do you know where I’ll be living now?”

Just like that, they were dismissed. It was crazy to think how different his morning had gone than what he was expecting. He was a youngling not fight minutes ago, and now he was a padawan. He deserved the world, and he was finally being given it.

‘It’s about time,’ he thought to himself.

“This way,” he led the way out of the council meeting room with a brisk pace, “the living area where I’m stationed is not far from here. The glass walls make it easy to spot all the different areas of the temple, and you can see all of the greenery, too. You see that building over there, that’s the one. I’ll show you, Master Kenobi.” As he walked, he noticed that the one named Counsellor Jinn was walking with them.

“And who are you? Counsellor Jinn, the Grand Master said, right? I may have heard Master Kenobi’s name before, but I know I’ve never heard yours.”

Colwyn turned to the other Jedi and scanned her with curious eyes. He didn’t think he’d seen her before, either.

Expensive? Of course he would wreck something valuable the day he got to be a padawan to a Jedi Knight! Despite that, he knew that he could rise above it. He’d work hard to make sure that the only thing they remembered about that day was the historic moment that Colwyn and Kenobi joined forces. He certainly had the talent for it, after all. He just needed to prove it.

Colwyn nodded again, still recovering from his embarrassing lack of self-control. “Yes, Grand Master. I will think on it well, thank you!”

A flurry of names came to his mind immediately—Windu, Skywalker, many more! This wasn’t a decision that he could make on a whim, and he’d be sure to talk it over with his new master Kenobi. He couldn’t wait to see first hand the knowledge that a Jedi Knight like Kenobi carried with him.

The realization that he would have his own quarters came later, but it was largely overshadowed by the fact that he would go on a mission as early as the next day. This is exactly what he was waiting for, a chance to prove his talents in a way that was real.

“Master Kenobi,” Colwyn turned to his new master, and craned again into a bow. “Thank you for your consideration! I will not let you down!”

The words came, and Colwyn could still scarcely believe them. Was this finally happening, or was this another hyper-realistic dream of his? Knight Kenobi wanted him to be his padawan, and he’d been observing him for a while! Why, this day was getting to be so much grander than he thought it would be! It was so exciting that the young soon-to-be padawan couldn’t quite keep it from spilling out.

Oh, just the thought of what this meant made him want to jump! All the places he would see, all the things he would learn! Of course, he would wait until he was in his chambers to truly let his excitement ripple out of him, but he was immediately eager.

Colwyn’s hands closed into fists at his sides, and he gave both Knight Kenobi and Grand Master Billaba a firm nod. He tried to keep his smile from growing too wide as did, but he wasn’t sure that he’d been successful at it.

“I will speak to Silos and Kang at once, Grand Master, thank you.” In his excitement he couldn’t help but shift his gaze from Knight Kenobi to Billaba multiple times. “I do not need a day to think about it—I am certain that this is the right path for me, Grand Master—Knight Kenobi.”

Just when he thought he had his excitement under control, Colwyn thought of how amazing it would be to be learning directly under a Jedi Knight, and he felt the emotion get the best of him. From his body a massive force pulse emanated from him, like an explosion of sheer energy. Its thunder rippled throughout the dome. As soon as it left him, however, Colwyn was quick to reign it back in, damaging nothing except the floor beneath him.

Embarrassed and scarlet-faced, Colwyn craned at the waist in a bow before snapping back upright immediately. “I’m so sorry! I assure you this doesn’t happen to me often!” Then, alternating his attention between Kenobi and Billaba, he added, “What does this mean—what should I do now?”

Colwyn had not been called to a lecture, and he ended up getting one anyway. Why couldn’t he just learn to keep his mouth shut? It had always gotten him into trouble before, and he’d been told the same thing again and again. Still, it had always been hard for Colwyn to keep his opinions to himself—to bite his tongue and remain silent—especially if he felt passionately about something! He saw no point in waiting around when things could be expedited harmlessly.

 At Billaba’s words, Colwyn felt his gaze drop to the floor in realization. Of course! It made sense that people could learn from their errors. Why hadn’t he considered it before? It was the very reason why his blood boiled every time he failed at something twice. Fewer things upset him more than that, and it bothered him to even think of it.

“You are right, Grand Master. I’m sorry—I understand what I did wrong.”

As much as he wanted to help Silos and Kang—and in his own way he did want that, even if he had a funny way of showing it—he would have helped them more if he’d been more patient.

‘Ugh, patience.’

Colwyn fought back the urge to roll his eyes, hating the thought of another one of his vices.

The young boy’s green eyes then shifted back to Knight Kenobi.

 “So then why is Knight Kenobi…?”

Colwyn’s heart wanted to jump from his chest at the possibility, but he stopped himself from getting too excited. There had been plenty of times where he felt like he deserved to move to the next stage of his destiny, more so than those that had already left the school, and still it never seemed to go his way.
What if this was the same?

Colwyn’s eyes narrowed in suspicion at how this hearing was proceeding. This was definitely not what he had been expecting—he knew that with certainty now—but there wasn’t much he could do at this point, was there? The Grand Master was still inquiring after what had happened, and now he needed to respond appropriately.

“Oh just a misunderstanding, Grand Master, I promise,” he spoke with the comfort and confidence of someone twice his age. “You see, Silos and Kang were playing a game of Shah-tezh, and Silos was going to win the game in three turns, so I moved the game along,” he wiggled his fingers to imply that he had done it with the force, “so that they could finish earlier and we could go out and train!”

Colwyn crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “They didn’t like that very much, so they started yelling. Grand Master, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

The door closed behind him as he walked in, the sound of his light footsteps echoing into the dome around him. Surprise trickled across Colwyn’s face at the amount of people that had gathered to this meeting. Surely this many people weren’t required for a disciplinary hearing, right? And Grand Master Billaba was even there! He wondered briefly what on earth they could all want with him, but decided best to keep his mouth shut for the moment.

That feeling, as always, would not last.

Colwyn masked his surprise and intrigue quickly, walking forward just as he had the previous times he’d been sent to the council. There was a Jedi with bright eyes and blue robes across from him, but it wasn’t he who addressed him.

Emerald eyes moved from the Jedi Knight to the Grand Master, the boy’s arms resting sternly at his sides. At her query, his gaze shifted back to the Knight, and then back to Master Billaba. So this was the Master Kenobi he had heard of during his initiate trials?

“Only with his name,” said Colwyn plainly, giving the audience a shrug. “I’m sure I also heard about his accomplishments at some point, but I couldn’t tell you what they were now, Grand Master. Is he going to be the one to lecture me? If this is about what happened with Silos and Kang, I was just saving them precious time—out of the generosity of my very heart! Really, they should be thanking me.”

Fan-Based Roleplay / Legacy of the Force: A Star Wars Story [Closed]
« on: March 07, 2020, 09:38:39 pm »
It was official—young Colwyn had just turned thirteen, and he felt like he was on top of the world. Not only did he habitually outperform his peers in the initiate trials, he knew how to do things that even young padawans were still struggling with—and he wasn’t ashamed to let them know. And he certainly did so—often enough that there was hardly a person in the planet that could keep his presence for more than a few hours at a time. Their struggle, his swiftness in learning and adapting, and the looks he often drew to himself from his superiors were like nutrients that fed his very hungry need for attention.

If he had been a thorn at his teachers’ sides when he was only twelve, now that he was thirteen he was appropriately insufferable. The debate on whether it had even been worth it to admit such a talent was a conversation that came up multiple times during the week. Alas, his potential was more impressive than the quirk they sincerely hoped would fade over time.

That was all fine and dandy, but now Colwyn was a teenager! He was basically already an adult!

It was a bright morning in the Jedi Temple of Gatalenta when Colwyn found himself in the common area, twirling his saber with the force in one hand while the other rested casually on his hip. It wasn’t a busy morning, but the young initiate had no trouble finding a way to entertain himself.

“Could you stop?!” One of the two Younglings that towered over Colwyn spoke angrily—he was so disturbed that one could basically see smoke coming from his scarlet ears—his hands clenched into fists at his side.

“Seriously, why do you always do this?” The second Youngling was not quite as loud as the first, but his eyes carried the same—if not greater—anger.

Evidently, this was not the first time that there had been tension between the three.

Despite the fact that Colwyn was older than his two fellow initiates, he was short for his age. The two towered over him in an attempt at peaceful intimidation. Colwyn could only smile at this—his grin wide and inviting. It was almost mocking.

Why did they think they could intimidate him now? It hadn’t worked before, and it truly did little to trouble Colwyn even in the slightest.

“I was just doing you a favor,” he mused casually, waving a hand in the air as if his interference hadn’t mattered. “You were going to lose in three turns anyway, I was just speeding up the process. That way, you could stop playing that dumb game and do something productive with me instead.”

They tried to stifle and angered chortle, before one of them decided to speak up. “We don’t want to train with you.

“Yeah!” The other mirrored.

“Sure you do,” said Colwyn turning to the loud Youngling, unperturbed. “You need help with your balance—I can’t imagine that last embarrassing performance yesterday would make you want to practice your strategy, not when you’re falling so behind the rest of the initiates in keeping your footing!” Then he turned to the other, grin growing grander. “And you, your abysmal hand-eye coordination should warrant at least a few hours of additional practice, don’t you think? Don’t want to pegged that initiate in the class, now do you?”

“Colwyn, you’re such an—”

“Youngling Colwyn,” a firm voice resonated into the room, and the three younglings fell silent immediately. One of their Jedi teachers stood at the front of the room, looking directly at Colwyn, and she did not look impressed. She held their silence for a moment before turning to the other two. “Youngling Silos, Youngling Kang, please make yourselves useful elsewhere.

Colwyn had only just stopped twirling his saber in his hand, catching it into his hand, when the two Younglings had fled the room. Naturally, Colwyn was about to explain the entire situation, but he was cut off by his teacher.

“I don’t need to hear it,” she said, a hand raised to demand silence from Young Colwyn. Truthfully, she would have listened if it had been any other Youngling, but she knew Colwyn too well to expect anything else. “You are being summoned by the Jedi Council this morning. Follow me.”

Fully expecting the youngling to follow suit, the Jedi turned on her heel and walked out the door and into a grandhall. The walkways were long, with tall ceilings, walls made of glass, and many interconnected corridors that led to the various different areas of the temple.

“Summoned?” Colwyn had no problems speaking up, and he fell into a brisk walk alongside his Jedi teacher. Nose in the air, he felt somewhat indignant.His golden hair shone under the natural light, and his peachy skin seemed almost translucent. “I find it hard to believe that my sincere, complete, and expertly accurate honesty could have gotten me into trouble with the council. Surely there’s been a misunderstanding, and I fully expect a formal apology—”

The desperation that had been quietly brewing in the Jedi’s mind threatened to spill, and she sped up her pace. It did not deter young Colwyn from his monologue.

“Have you no need to stop and draw breath, Youngling Colwyn?” She interrupted him, a vein of frustration tarnishing her otherwise blemish free forehead. “Practice silence, if you’d please—meditation will do you well!”

It wasn’t long before they reached the door to the Council’s meeting chambers. The Jedi teacher waited at the door’s side, and motioned with her hand for the young initiate to walk in.

“In you go,” she pressed.

Colwyn gave her a hard stare, eyeing her from head to toes, arms crossed. She really did think she was high and mighty, didn’t she? After another minute of unspoken tension, his emerald eyes turned towards the entryway to the room. The council waited for him on the other side, and he would be ready for them.

Without even another glance to his Jedi teacher, he walked in. Everything would sort itself out—of that he was certain.

Fan-Based Roleplay / Re: An Era of Theatrics [Closed]
« on: September 20, 2019, 09:23:23 pm »
“I was just saying,” said Kyle with a chortle, figuratively zipping his mouth shut before crossing his arms.

At the exchange, and the ensuing conversations, Donovan could only smile. There was general agreement from the others regarding his ideas, and now he was simply finalizing the last details of his character. Why was moving to the new area? What had motivated him from leaving an area where he had already attained such a power to a place where he would be—in a lot of ways—starting over?

In Donovan’s mind, this felt similar to how he felt personally about his current situation. Why would he go to a community theater to try his hand at something new, where he already knew he had attained success back at his school? His soccer buddies had given him a few curious looks, but he shoved them off dismissively. Sure, this is not how he imagined his career would go, but he could see how it would help.

Although not an exact reflection, the answer was still the same.

“I think he just wants more,” began Donovan, pressing his fingers to his chin in thought. “If he’s already attained enough influence where he’s from, perhaps he simply wants to double it someplace else. It could certainly be in attempts to make his sire’s rival feel even smaller.”

Donovan let out a deep breath, bending down toward the table to jot everything that they had discussed down on paper. His hand moved along the page quickly—sharp, organized and concise. When he rose, he felt triumphant.

“I think I got him,” he confirmed.

Pages: [1] 2 3 ... 27