Survival Scenario (Doren)

[Rhoden Carbine]

Rhoden considered his response. "Morikin is the greatest challenge." he said, "The goal of the Carbine Shadowguard is to be the best warrior in every available field. To be the warrior that would make the greatest Mandalorian blanch." Rhoden gestured out at the world, "This planet is the greatest enemy of any Shadowguard, more dangerous than any blaster, larger than any capital ship, with innumerable threats posed from every direction. If you can survive the world, if you can bend it to your will and escape with your life, you have proven yourself." Rhoden smiled, "It is also a reminder. A reminder that our technology, that the sentient being, is not the master of the galaxy. That at any time a true master, a true predator, can take everything we have." Rhoden looked out at the world, "This world holds horrors for me, it is the place where I earned my right to be leader of the Carbine family upon my father's death, the place where friends died horrible deaths. But this world is mine. I defeated it once, and I will defeat it again."

Rhoden lapsed into thought, staring at things only he could see. "The Carbine family makes its money from the reasonable number of worlds--don't ask their names, you wouldn't know them--it controls or influences. Small populations in general. They also provide the resources which become our ships, our fighters, our armor. We also have considerable interest in various manufacturers, every blaster bolt you fire, every tank you blow up, every fighter you blast out of the sky is a credit in my pocket." he sighed, "At a relatively young age by the standards of my family I inherited control of this vast pool of resources. My father killed by my own hand for treason, my mother and sister murdered by rebels, my cousin left in pieces by that same attack. And my brother, too young, and off being an Inquisitor." Rhoden noted there was a bitterness in his voice. "So I was left, half mad with rage and sorrow, to run everything while still serving the Empire, taking the place of my father.

"In this time I was lost, and only Jorvan was there to make sure I didn't get myself killed. In the end I nearly did die, and only then did I regain control of my life. I lay the fate of my family to rest and moved on." another sigh. "The only thing I had with me was my experience on Morikin and Jorvan. Hundreds, thousands, of Carbine's, advisors, Shadowguard, but I ran away for so long. But there was always Morikin. The ultimate challenge. The ultimate victory."

Rhoden took a deep breath and smiled, "Besides, Morikin gave me a new appreciation for wilderness." he laughed, "What trouble is hunting Rancors on Felucia or Lylek on Ryloth compared to this place? Nothing!" he leaned back, "This world will shape a man, in ways he can't begin to imagine." he turned to look at the Captain "So, Mr. Vassyl. How will Morikin shape you, I wonder?"

[Professor Mors]

Vassyl listened with genuine interest as Rhoden delighted him with the time-tested lore of the Carbine family. His tales were rich with a bygone sensibility of man versus nature: a sensibility that was paramount for the cultivation of a grizzled commando. As far as Rhoden was concerned, Doren had no issue picturing the younger Carbine in his element among the desolate wastes and jagged peaks. Whereas Vassyl's preferred terrain was the cosmos, such places as these were surely a second home to the young officer. Having viewed Rhoden's prowess in the urban sprawl of Nemoidia and the spires of Yabol Opa, the Captain slowly began to piece together the circumstances that created so apt a soldier. Chuckling in light of his last remark, Doren finally answered back, "Goodness knows Commander, though I admit I quite like my shape as it is. For now, I should hope to keep it all in one piece".

Some disentangling and strained motions later, Vassyl summarily succeeded in piecing together an old solar-fabric tent. Made of a fine, frugal weave, the main canopy was designed to trap and maintain heat within the interior. Were that the rain persisted into the night, any shred of warmth the tent could accumulate would go a long way in keeping the pair's body temperature at a manageable levels. Sitting down beside one of the corner-posts, Doren meditated on the Commander's brief soliloquy regarding his family. It was a narrative he had read and reread many a time. The weight of the emotional gravitas tied to Rhoden's journey was not lost on Vassyl, and as the rain continued to trickle down, he began to ponder on the finer motivations that spurred his companion. Was it purely revenge? A commitment to eliminating the enemies of the Empire? In that moment, further information was paramount. Going out on an inquisitive limb, Vassyl inquired, "And before Morikin- before all of the chaos that came after, what was the gatekeeper of your 'victory' then?".

[Rhoden Carbine]

"There was my family and the other Shadowguard who had passed the trials." he smiled, "There was my cousin Garrus who could take on both me and Jorvan at the same time--and who usually won those fights." Rhoden's smile faded, "There was the Clone Wars, the innumerable droids. I was busy on Coruscant or elsewhere, I didn't see the majority of the conflict, but the battles I did experience were..." he grimaced, "Enlightening."

He sighed, "I worked with a Jedi once, she was a Commander." his voice became a growl, "She was a child, she almost died. And her precious Jedi Master, General of the glorious Republic, was willing to let her die!" he spat the words. "The rebels are butchers and the Jedi indifferent hypocrites, the Sith may be murderous but at least you're expecting to be stabbed in the back by them."

[Professor Mors]

Vassyl's eyebrows raised in concern as the Commander's speech devolved into a harsh, emotional soliloquy. The tragedy of his family inevitably wore heavily upon him, so much so that the young Rhoden was seemingly dissociated time and space within his own narrative. Standing up from his work at the tent, Doren searched about the rations packs, and procured two can of pre-made caf. The Captain then walked over to his downtrodden companion, and sat beside him. "Let's not dwell on such dark matters", Vassyl began softly, offering one of the cans to his compatriot, "This planet has more than enough darkness for the both of us eh?". Doren fell silent for a time, and continued to watch the rain plummet down on the unforgiving crags of Morikin. Whereas their internment on this world was a physical labor for Vassyl, he strongly suspected it might take a more emotional, and indeed mental toll on his counterpart.

"All the same", Doren began once again, in a more hushed tone, "I know how it feels to lose those we care for: to feel like we have failed them". The chromium shell of Vassyl's beverage crunched under an increase in pressure, as the Captain own wellspring of feeling titrated through his voice. "Or in the event we have failed them", the Jaeman continued, steeling his nerves and delivering a louder remark, "But we haven't let those failures defeat us now have we?". Vassyl presented Rhoden with a small grin, and extended a friendly hand onto his shoulder, "Empire Day is coming up in a few cycles yes? Once we make it off this forsaken slag of world, you ought to join me for the festivities back home: I know my mother would be delighted to have some extra company". Retracting his arm, the Captain returned his gaze to the horizon, and concluded, "Yes, I think you'd be quite smitten with Jaemus. The rain is- lighter. Clearer than waters here. Calming even, if you'd believe it".

[Rhoden Carbine]

Rhoden smiled as he observed the Captain, he could tell the man thought him distraught to a point of confusion. He frowned, it was indeed odd--his age--he supposed it would only make sense to inform the Captain. He listened as he was invited to Jaemus to meet the Captain's family. Rhoden blinked, stunned for a moment by the thought that the man had family. When was the last time he had sat down and enjoyed something like that? Where was that Carbine spirit, the joy for life? He chuckled to himself.

"I believe I'll take you up on that offer, Captain, and Morikin is a beautiful world--if you look past everything that wants to murder you." He stopped smiling, "And don't think me so distraught, or mad. I assure you I was there for the Clone Wars--young, but there." He faced the Captain. "I had a distinguished career with the Empire, I grew older, and then I was entrusted with a very important mission."

"I'm afraid I still intend to complete that mission, and to reveal its details would be to compromise it, not even the Grand Admiral knows." Rhoden said, his voice becoming wistful "Suffice it to say my former record was expunged and altered, I assumed the identity of my younger self." He picked up a small rock and tossed it from hand to hand. "A few short years before I returned to Imperial service--under the guise of having amnesia--there was... an accident." Rhoden's face convulsed.

"I was severely wounded, kept alive by a wretched network of tubes and spikes and no small amount of bacta. So," Rhoden smiled once more, "I made myself a new body. The Carbine family, oh so devoted to their little projects, had the facility to clone me, and once that was complete it was a trivial matter to transfer my memory, my consciousness into the new body."

"Of course, while I was recovering, so to speak, my sister resurfaced and took control of the Carbine family." his face hardened, "My plans were delayed because of the unstable clone, I spent two valuable years dodging her traitorous forces. Once I returned to the Empire I--with help from Jorvan--ensured we had the chance to destroy her, and so we did with the much appreciated aid of my brother and Commander Null." Rhoden bit his lower lip, then sighed.

"I'll tell you this: Markus Bareil is no simple pirate and I will not rest until he is destroyed." a fire burned behind his eyes, "He has much to answer for."

[Professor Mors]

Vassyl raised a silent yet skeptical eyebrow as Rhoden's narrative descended into other flights of fancy. Of course, Doren had no reason to mistrust his comrade, yet to any other outsider, such a tale demanded a great show of faith on the part of the listener. Given previous comments regarding the Commander's mental health, the Captain elected to consider the possibility that the head of House Carbine was experiencing a generational dissociation: perhaps even transplanting bits of his history and exchanging them with that of his forbearers. Regardless of the "truth" of the matter, Vassyl was hardly in a place to decry his fellow survivor's inner and outer struggle, and decided to continue to extend his support without jeopardizing any stability on the part of his ally.

Returning to reality, Doren's expression hardened at the mention of Bariel. "One of many loathsome leeches that gorge themselves off the plight of the innocent", Vassyl weighed in, "Thankfully, there's no better a home remedy for such things than a dedicated taskforce and a turbolaser or two". Tracking the sun between the mess of clouds, the Captain grinned once more, concluding, "For what it's worth my friend, I don't think that rogue would last three minutes planetside. Further still, he's so wretched I doubt the beasts would even deem him worthy eating". Doren attempted to produce a hardy chuckle that eroded into a hoarse cough. Glumly, Vassyl beat his chest with his fist in a futile attempt to knock the weakness out of his system. It was going to be a long couple of days.

***
"Watch your step Commander!", Doren bellowed over the wail of the alpine wind, "There's a slippery spot near these rocks: something rested here, probably melted the snow!". If the Captain's XO, or any of his staff were to look upon him as he was now, they would have scarcely recognized their trim and proper leader. Clad in foreign furs and sporting an unkempt beard, Doren Vassyl had become the very epitome of a hermit. Indeed, clutched firmly in hand was his favored accessory, a long, sturdy walking stick born of a fine, tenacious wood. The Captain had endured an arduous search for the perfect specimen, inciting several encounters with flesh-eating beetles much to Rhoden's chagrin. Nonetheless, the acquisition had almost immediately reversed Doren's otherwise surly mood.

Now, at a higher altitude than the pair had traveled thus far, Vassyl was entering verily familiar element. In his youth, Doren's father would often take him hiking along the snowy ridge of Jaeman's central mountain range. Later on, the future officer would be pressured into similar, albeit more rigorous camping excursions with his authoritarian uncle. Despite the cold and frost and biting gale, there was something strangely comforting about trudging across the top of the world. Morikin was no Jaemus, yet the instinctual pathfinding across the hoary crags awakened a long dormant delight in the otherwise put-upon Vassyl. If the Captain and his ward were to have any hope of a transmitting a rescue signal, the higher they climbed, the better. Slowly turning about, Doren cupped a hand over his eyes to look back on his companion, and hollered out yet again, "What say you? Shall we stop a while, or cross past this bend?".

[Rhoden Carbine]

"Oh, believe me, he'd fare as good or bad as I would." Rhoden said, not quite meeting the Captain's eyes at this. He pushed his thoughts of Bareil aside and narrowed his eyes at Doren, "I can see you still don't believe me and I highly doubt I can actually prove what I'm saying--aside from having the medics clear my mental health. Of course I'll deny having said anything about my past or my mission if asked about it." he smiled. Rhoden gave the Captain a concerned look as he coughed and sighed silently. It was going to be a long couple of days.


Rhoden traipsed along behind the Captain in a state of grumpy silence. Despite his protests and attempts to the contrary the man was beginning to go native--short of trying to eat Rhoden; so far at least. He maintained a beard--an unfortunate requirement given lack of supplies--but the fur clothing was not necessary given their armor. He yanked his helmet up and scratched at his own beard, considerably shorter, he jammed the helmet back down and walked on.

Rhoden grew increasingly agitated--he recognized their location and was none to happy about it. When the Captain suggested they rested his eye twitched. "Not here. Nowhere near here. We need to make it through this passage alive. Once we're through and safely away from it we can rest." he said darkly.

[Professor Mors]

There it was. That cryptic, patented Carbine subtext that bled through Rhoden's harsh commentary. Doren had two running theories. First, there was the chance that one unmentioned figure of native fauna lurked about the region, and the potentiality for an encounter was inspired anxiety in the Commander. The second was, for reasons beyond Vassyl's understanding, that young Carbine heir simply wasn't a mountain person. Both were similarly probable or improbable. However, Doren wagered that if the latter held true, it would color and inflame the possibility of the former. Nonetheless, the Captain had much recovered from his initial wounds at the crash site, and, should trouble befall the pair, he would be ready to take up their martial cause.

Yes, if the Commander was feeling wary of this place, there were probably merits to that concern. As the snow continued to blanket their surrounding, the duo's field of vision would be doubly encumbered. Furthermore, if some terrestrial predator lay up ahead, natural camouflage would serve it much better than the Captain's furs and Rhoden's armor. Given the difficulties of their previous encounters with the local wildlife, Doren paused for a few moment, and waited for the Commander to reach his location, such that the two could fight in proximity to one another given a worst-case scenario. "If something is up here", Vassyl conscientiously whispered to his comrade, "How large a target are we in for Commander?".

[Rhoden Carbine]

Rhoden shuddered slightly, "Arachnids." he said, "Ranging in size from the human head to a civilian speeder." he scowled at the pass before them. "We're also nearing the altitudes where Firehawks begin to nest--but we can't really dodge those." he said, he elaborated, "The Firehawk is a lovely little avian that tends to eat starfighters." he shrugged, "We have to use heavy gunships to drop off and retrieve Shadowguard initiates."

Rhoden gazed momentarily at the side of the cliff, wondering if it would be too terribly trying on the Captain if they were to climb it. He dismissed the thought. The surface was too smooth, and the weather was worse still for the prospect. He sighed. "No avoiding them, it seems. They tend to disregard blaster bolts. Flamethrowers are marginally better. Cutting off legs and pincers is helpful too." he said in a resigned voice.

[Professor Mors]

Vassyl sighed and halted for a moment, retrieving a set of macrobinoculars clasped onto one of his makeshift bandoliers. Hefting the aged range-finding equipment against his eyes, Doren began running thermal and infrared scans of the immediate vicinity. If there were potential hostiles of such great size lurking about, the Captain would much rather mark them in advance, and potentially plot a course around them. All human ingenuity aside, one was want to engage a Gorax with a simple sling or rock shooter. Caution was needed, especially in natural spheres more so than civilized ones. Humanoids and sentients, were, to a degree, predictable in how they engaged in combat, and their tools reflected as much.

Much to Doren's greater anxiety and horror, a sweep of the eastern ridge revealed several immodest blotches nestled a quarter of a kilometer away. That was much too close for comfort. Kneeling down, Vassyl attempted to strengthen the crispness of the visual render, but had little success. With the frost and snow flitting about, and general temperature fluctuations provided by the high altitude, a rough estimation was all Captain could manage. The blobs didn't appear to be avian in terms of shape, but if they were nesting, their wings might well be tucked around their sides. Conversely, if a group of arachnids were indeed in the area, the circular denotation might constitute a particularly bulbous abdomen. Waving his comrade over, Doren offered up his viewing device, and inquired, "What do you make of these Commander?".