SithLore

Nal Hutta

A hot world of Hutt space, Kota was here for recon. There was rumors that a stolen Imperial shipment was here. Rather than send a squad to upset the Hutts she was here as herself. She would determine if the rumors were true and extract the shipment without causing an incident. Though she wasn't registered as an Imperial, she was known by reputation. So questions would be asked if she was caught, a big if. Kota was a master of the force, this should be an easy job to do.

Hyperspace
En Route to Nal Hutta
Hours Ago


Corren Bain stood alone. Darkness was all that surrounded him. He was a statue feebly erected on a small peninsula island amidst a vast ocean that's foreboding waters swirled with chaotic uncertainty. It was an uncertainty that most of the galaxy would find terrifying, impossible to navigate. But Corren was the opposite. He had to be. The world around him would always be filled with uncertainty, be it the rolling autumn plains of Dantooine or a cramped starship hold. Their colours? He had no reference for what colour was. Sure, he knew the sky was blue like water or ice. Brown the colour of the earth, yet also the colour of some's eyes. How close these strange concepts were also remained in illusive in this chaotic void around him. But Corren navigated this void nonetheless. He had no choice but to. He could make something out of the uncertainty. He didn't have to see chaos, he could see... serenity. Yes, serenity. An acceptance of the rest. The sound of the creaking hull as the ship surfed over the hyperspace lanes. The rough texture of his own fingers against his palm rubbing gently against one another. The smell of his own perspiration in the air, mingling with mechanical oil to produce a strange odour. It was all connected, a puzzle with missing pieces. He found it a challenge to navigate this web of dangling threads. Any sentient being would. Any path he took could be the wrong one and leave him falling to a harsh and unforgiving floor. Or worse; nothing but pain.

Corren pursed his lips and a gentle accepting sigh escaped him. He would have to make do with the incomplete set. His walking stick begrudgingly slipped from his grasp and clanked to the durasteel floor. As it rolled away, Corren let his feet slip apart from each other and body twist sideward on. He let a deep breath in through his mouth, moments later the oxygen deprived air returned from his lungs through his nostrils. The calming effect only came to him with several more repetitions. He raised his hands before him, relying not on memory of how he looked but memory of how it felt. The twitches of his muscles as his arms adopted a defensive posture felt true, his weight distribution even. In his semi-meditative state, Corren thought back to his uncle. He'd questioned why his adopted guardian had bothered to drill him into learning martial combat. Even the basics seemed a null concept given he'd never see a punch coming and lack the dexterity to dodge a kick. But Corren had accepted it as his uncle's attempt to bond with him. The former stormtrooper had known much conflict and violence. But such physical scars meant the older man had knew his body well, its limitations and movements. He'd hoped to aspire such self confidence within Corren with the knowledge that the young boy would not have to suffer the burden of the mental scars as well.

So he found himself here, movements slow and methodical. Blaster trumped blow any day. Imperial Academies knew this common sense, and Stormtroopers were hardly professional class shockboxers or Echani war generals. But his Uncle had always insisted on some level of martial prowess had always been passed down through the family blood. It made no sense, Corren knew that. But he wanted it to be true. In that way he would be connecting with the blood parents he'd never met. He brought his hands close to him, hands closed into loose fists as he paced like a Nexu sizing up an imaginary target. Corren continued his methodical and slow movements, one step after another. In his calmed mind he cast aside his worried doubts that always festered without the presence of his walking stick. It went against his goal here. He had to feel his surroundings but not fear what might be in them. No, he had to feel them. And with this in mind it trickled in. The scratching of oak against hardened durasteel; his stick finally rolling to a stop against the blastdoor to the storage bay he occupied. The imaginary attacker lunged for him, as if the void had formed a hideous vestige to beat Corren into submission. Corren's movements sped from slow and calm to rapid and reactive. He leaned his torso back and to the right as the fictitious blow struck his shoulder. Coiled right hand lashed out and caught the phantom hand in a vice-like grip. He lurched forth, left fist driving itself into an armpit to dislocate a shoulder before snaking out to form another grip. The imaginary anchor acted as a turning point, an indicator of where his foe found himself. The blind man spun and knees laxed. It dropped his mobile form downward and drove his elbow into the side of a knee with tendon snapping force. The ghost fell down defeated as Corren rose once more.

The next foe was a wet stain of engine grease that slipped his footing from underneath him, proceeding the thud of his heel striking the wall with painful force. But despite setback or worry of how strange he must look, how poorly he must be executing these movements; Corren carried on with conviction burning. It did not falter when his foot struck against the wall, eliciting a sharp stab of pain and curse word from under his breath. Such thoughts were cast aside, mind set only on his own body and the world around him. All the sounds, scents, tasted and touches. They all flowed through one another in some manner he supposed. Each had some effect on the other, or were triggered by the former. His outstretched fist might sent a gust of air. His foot a thud as it stomped against the ground. His sweat from exercise mingling in the air's smell. It just seemed... connected to him. He'd mentioned it to his uncle once as the had uncle helped his limbs slowly go through the routine steps. The man hadn't paid much attention to it. However he'd seemed happy that such a reverie sparked confidence in his nephew. In some ways, both he and his uncle knew pain of a kind. The only thing they could do was move on.

Start of Force Application
Applying for: Force Sensitivity

Corren blocked, made riposte, punched, jabbed and kicked out. He took blow after blow both fictitious and real. But it did not waver his self derived meditation as he might one day call it. He simply listened and focused, letting his natural instinct do the rest. Duck, strike, throw. The pitter patter of a drop of liquid meeting the ground; recoil, jab, kick. Perhaps his combat prowess was not perfect but the movements flowed seamlessly together. It was not combat training for Corren rather his way of walking normally. He felt more than his own breath, own blood pumping through his veins. Corren felt the life behind it. His lack of conscious thought, this passive focus and calm; it caused him to almost miss the gentle tug in the back of his mind. A tender caress so alien yet familiar. Brought finally to bare from his acknowledgement of his own pain and the truths that came from this. Something dormant had sprung to life. As Corren twisted his head around, it made itself truly known.

It opened his eyes.

For the first time in his life a light broke through the darkness and cast awe onto his face. The ocean of darkness was still there, but now illuminated with a fiery glow. Corren could feel it, the final sense that linked through all the others; binding the sounds, smells, touch and taste of life itself… What was this? Corren felt like he could feel everything in the room around him in his slack jawed state. Even further beyond, the sound of distant conversation brushed against his ear. But then he tilted his head down and once more; he opened his eyes. Corren Bain saw himself, hands at his side and aglow with a blue white light. There was more lights, beings aglow in the starship. But it faded away as rapidly as it came. The brief moment of clarity faded back into the rippling darkness. But somehow, that darkness seemed a few shades brighter.

End of application

Something clanged in the cargo hold of The Darkstar Crusader. Ordona turned in the pilot’s chair and stood. She walked through the small passageway, back-lit by the multi-colored glow of hyperspace. As she moved through the ship, Ordona lowered her mental walls and slipped into the expanded consciousness of the Force. She directed her focus toward the young man stowed in the open area that was her destination. Her awareness latched onto him. She felt it again, the subtle stirrings of the Force within the blind youth.

In moments, her physical vision overlapped with that of the Force and she found herself watching him go through a series of martial exercises. Ordona remained silent and watched him until he stopped. It was partway through these movements and exercises that Ordona noticed a change in his aura. The Force expanded slowly outward from the young man, and she found herself smiling. She waited until it had faded and he was again still.

“Not bad. After we’re done on this hutt-forsaken world, I’ll have to teach you how to do that consistently,” Ordona said, making her first noise since arriving in the room. “But for now, we’re almost there. I heard them calling for docking codes. Meet me upfront when you’re ready,” she continued.

Without waiting for a reply, Ordona strode back to the flight deck and made herself comfortable. She found herself still smiling as she initiated the processes that would take them in for a landing on Nal Hutta. There was work to be done, darkness to be repelled. Yet here, on her ship, was a young kid discovering the Force and all of its wonders. She only hoped she could help him.

The inward withdrawal, the racing of his mind and the simple fact that, whatever the primary reason; Corren hadn't heard Ordana. So when she spoke up he jumped in his skin and twisted around in a mixture of alarm and surprise.

"...What?" Was the only thing that managed to break out of the flux of Corren's racing thoughts. How could Ordana know the inner process of his mind? Did that mean he wasn't just dreaming, or suffering from some twisted manner of hyperspace sickness? He hadn't believed what he'd been told before... In truth what Ordana said mattered little as she moved away without waiting for a response. On the sound of her boots pacing away he stood motionless. It took the young man two minutes to make his way from the hold to cockpit. The first minute had been an unsuccessful attempt to focus his thoughts, the second the slow methodical return to company. He'd had little time to acquaint himself with the ship he found himself taking shelter on, nor even the droid compliment and its mysterious Captain for that matter. At the homestead on Dantooine he could navigate his way around as effectively as any sighted being having spent so many years of his life within its safe confines. The skill was less applicable here.

The sound of his boots proceeded Corren's arrival to the cockpit where he rested a hand against the side of the pilot's chair. His stick had found its way back into his other hand. Corren raised his head slightly, angling it toward the direction he assumed to be the front of the ship. It'd make little sense to have the pilot's seat facing backwards after all.

"If you wouldn't mind me asking..." Corren started before a brief pause cut him off as he sifted through the turmoil of questions racing each other within his mind before one finally made it out. It was not the question he wanted to ask; it deviated from the true focus of his mind.

"What is this planet? Asides from assumedly having some connection to the Hutts. If that isn't the case then you'll have me wondering about the Imperial Center too."

She felt it a sudden burst, Kota looked up. 'Someone discovered the force and the other is a user.' She thought. Whatever the case it could complicate her mission. She needed the force to find out where the stolen shipment was if it was here at all. So hiding wasn't an option, but she didn't recognize the more seasoned presence. The answer was simple as she used the force to change her appearance to that of a bounty Hunter. (Disguise) After she did Kota continued to the place where the shipment was rumored. She hoped this was going to be worth her time.