Hello all. This thread acts as a counterpart to the campaign notes in the Praxeum campaign thread.
Unlike the Praxeum posts, which are largely unpolished and written during the actual game session, this thread narrates the same events as seem through my own character, the Arkanian Jedi, Jarred Thornn.
As such, he is the only point of view character in this journal. Whereas the officla notes jump around from one character to another. The events described herein are the characters take on what happens during the course of the campaign (and are not neccessarily the same views as my own. Don`t be surprised if they differ from the actual game notes to a varying extent as the campaign develops.
Remember, Jarred is a self-aggrandizing, pompous, stuck-up over-privilidged, spoiled late-teenaged brat. Made even worse by the fact he actually is as smart as he thinks he is. Just because Jarred believe he is the guiding force and leadership behind the Praxeum Pack, it doesn't mean he actually is.
Enjoy.
Luke:
I uncovered this journal during that last excursion to Arkania, The data pad was in disrepair, but with a little effort and the help of Mirrax, I was able to recover most of the data. Its author is an over-inflated, arrogant Arkanian windbag puffed up with his own hubris. Which just goes to show that even ancient Jedi weren`t immune to institutional arrogance. Assuming your actually patient enough to tolerate the biographers egotistic, rambling style (and I`m not sure even you are THAT patient) it should provide some insight into a little know period of Jedi History.
Enjoy, or rather, endure.
Your friend,
Corran Horn
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Journal Begins.
Welcome treasured reader, or should I call you, “Seeker of the Wonderous Truth?” I have begun this journal in the full, and not immodest knowledge, that I, as one of the first of my kind to join the most esteemed and fabled Jedi Order in some years, am likely to have become a figure of some importance in the History of our great Species.
Note that I am not so immodest as to believe my life could possibly interest anyone outside my species and Order, but neither do I have any reason to doubt that the Force may lead me to places and heights of importance that I cannot yet for-see.
While there is no doubt in mind that you already know something of the identity and deeds of the humble author of this work -else why would you partake of it’s wonderful insights and sagacious qualities- I shall not be so rude as to avoid an introduction. I am - or will someday become- the Jedi Jarred Thorrn, a scion of Arkania, from a line as great and famous for it’s intellectual achievements as it is for its cunningly acquired wealth and hard-earned commercial accolades. Alas, the nature of my birth line is of little importance in the story of my life, for I left all that far behind upon my entry to the Jedi Order.
You see gentle reader, my family shares the common hatred among our kind for the Jedi. A hatred born out of misconception, arrogance and historical enmity. For were my people not once among the greatest servants - indeed, near-partners- of the Sith?
Which leads me to ecplain the context of our gentle tale within the course of the Republic’s vast and magnificent history. The Sith - or an entity calling itself the Sith- has returned to our peaceful, albeit war-shattered borders. Some time ago, the great Jedi revanchist heroes, Malak and Raven, led the forces of the Republic to a great but costly victory in the Mandolorion Wars. All but exterminating the fierce warriors of that wild, barbaric religion (perhaps I flatter it by calling it such, would not, perhaps, the word “cult” be better? History will judge it so, I gather).
Alas, only mere months, weeks ago even, these vanished heroes and their missing fleet returned to Old Republic Space, having disappeared into the savage borderlands of the galaxy, those be-knighted regions outside the grace and protection of the Galactic Republic and its earnest Jedi guardians. They returned not in triumph, as victors and saviours, but as conquerors.
Already the vast Republic Fleet yards of Foresst have fallen. Sith warships, of a class and design aesthetic never before seen within the Republic, maraud systems up and down the border regions and raid far into the rich inner systems at the Core of our great confederation.
Only a few scant hours ago, the War imposed itself upon the happy world and acid seas of Rocosia, disturbing the tranquil peace of my Master’s Praxeum, and setting my mentor and his four devoted servants upon the path to great adventure.
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The peace of my meditations were broken by two rude and near-simultaneous interruptions: A summons to the communications room by that in-gracious (and often downright irritating Sidhe) the Padawan Danshi, and a sudden impression of suppressed fear and intense concentration which slammed into my conscious mind via the sublime medium of the all-encompassing Force.
My eyes opened somewhat more quickly than I am used to, switching near-instantly from my night-vision mode (for the thick, yellow acid clouds of Recosia allow only the smallest reflected yellow light to pierce the dome above the meditation balcony) to what humans and most other less evolved species would consider to be normal vision. But not quickly enough. My eyes suffered somewhat from a sudden trail of fiery light shooting past the dome, too quick to visually identify its source, even had numerous small lights not been dancing before my beautiful, colourless eyes. It not being necessarily to possess my superior Arkanian intellect in order to immediately connect these two events I rushed towards the communications room, arriving so quickly that the spots in my vision were only just not beginning to diminish when the doorway parted before me.
Alas, despite my turn of speed and startlingly swift reactions, of all the Praxeum’s students I arrived last. I was already aware in the forth front of my consciousness that Master Loshem was not present this day, having left in one of the schools Cargo Sleds earlier that morning to procure supplies from that miserable dusty shanty town the locals have the gumption to have named “Capital”.
It seemed my initial assessment was indeed correct - a ship had passed overhead and was clearly in some distress. It transpired that a chime had alerted the other three members of the student body to the incoming craft, one which I could not hear due to the depth and proficiency of my trance.
There was no time for complacent self-congratulation however. With the Master absent, it fell to me to organise our response to this momentous and potentially catastrophic (for the passengers, at least) event.
Fortunately the Master and I have the other so well trained - even that ignorant wretch Danshi - that no issuance of Orders or discussion was necessary. With the mutual insight and silent communication only a JedI collective can display, we each set to our respective tasks.
Danshi immediately sent a message to our master. Za`anni was already departing as I arrived - on her way to prop the school’s remaining cargo sled, while I moved to the planetary comm link in an attempt to contact the stricken ship. I recall Danshi muttering something about prepping our ship instead, but I simply ignored this ludicrous suggestion. I knew Khitani would not be so foolish as to waste twenty minutes prepping a starship when our Cargo Sled would be ready to leave in mere moments - and therefore transport us to a crash-site much more swiftly. This was, after all, a mercy-mission.
In the meantime Khitani attempted to gain more information on the ship and the nature of its damage via images of it captured by the Praxeums security and computer systems. Alas, the ship had passed by too quickly and even our schools most precocious younger student could glean little from the blurred images in the short time available to us. Though, perhaps it is not too surprising. Khitani is hardly our most scholarly inclined student, albeit our most mechanically and combatively gifted.
Having made contact with the ship, I made what sense I could of the garbled transmission I received. Along with the deciphering the obligatory call for assistance, I was able to determine the ships projected landing coordinates. As I suspected, the crash-site would be nearby, on a plateau we could reach in less than one-sixth of a standard hour. Fortunately, they would avoid a crash into our planets deadly sulphuric-acid seas.
Surprisingly perhaps, that urchin Danshi had the sense to run and fetch the medical packs while I computed our best route of travel. In the meantime Khitani rushed off to collect our light sabres and other outdoor gear from our rooms. I could only hope that in her over-eager youthful exuberance she did not mistakenly grab a training light sabre or two instead. However, one must trust in the Force with such matters and, in any case, had this excursion proven to be as straightforward as I had hoped, there would have been little need for weapons regardless.
However, I was pleased to note that none of us were willing to take chances with an unknown ship. The first duty of the rescuer, after all, is to avoid contriving a situation where he or she may need to be rescued themselves,
Only moments after the rather sudden arrival of the stricken vessel, we were gathered on the Cargo Sled and ready to go. Danshi was the last to arrive, having paused to instruct the schools computer to monitor all of our transmission in case something should happen (who would have expected such insight from one such as him).
With commendable decorum, the schools protocol droid, G3, happened to be standing by with a collection of lunch boxes as he ran past. How I miss the old days, when I had a veritable legion of equally diligent droids at my every beck and call. But such a life is not for a JedI.
Za`iin, being our best pilot was already at the controls. When Khitani began recklessly passing out our equipment via Force Telekinesis. I frowned at her lack of self-control but resolved to bite my lip before the other students. Now was not a suitable time or place to issue a reprimand to our charming, if somewhat childish, younger colleague. In any case, one supposes we must at least be grateful for her enthusiasm.
I wisely decided to discuss it with her later and, depending on the results of that conversation, report this latest incident to our Master as well. Though I was loathe to do so. I would prefer to set a good example by the sole expedient method of my own upright and virtuous behaviour instead. But these are dark times for a youngster to dabble in such dangerous things as unnecessary and frivilous use of the force.
Yet I digress in my concern for the other students. The many short-comings of Khitani and, indeed, Danshi also are for another time and a later entry. Thank the Force that Za`iin, at least, does not possess anything in the order of such inadequacy as they.
No sooner had the Sled sped from its hanger under Za`iin’s pursuant control than did Danshi, in his usual ignorant fashion, belatedly wonder aloud as the Sled capabilities with regards to surviving a plunge into our acid sea. At least the question gave the other half of my brain something to do as I explained the various safety measures of our fully enclosed means of transport. Meanwhile, the rest of my considerable intellect was focused upon the problem of contacting the ship once again using the Sled’s comms. An endeavour that was entirely unsuccessful on even the most reliable of frequencies on this notoriously obnoxious world of ours.
However, we soon picked up the ruined craft on our Sleds sensors. Danshi and Khitani were able to identify it as one of those deplorable Correlian vessels, a Minoc class vessel of the Transport weight class. However, this proved to be of little help as those insufferable Correlian engineers insist on making their starship designs as modular as possible. We were as likely to encounter a heavily armed military or pirate vessel as we were to find a passenger liner full of stricken civilians.
I overheard Danshi and Khitani indulge in a whispered conversation at this point, clearly wondering if this was some sort of ruse. I did not discount this possibility, even though the sensors clearly indicated that the ship was genuinely damaged. Indeed, it appeared to be embedded in rock up to its engine compartment. It was a wonder the vessel had not immediately combusted. Nevertheless, I approved of their caution and went so far as to tell them so. Strangely, they did not seem to appreciate my offered praise as much as they should.
For some reason, it was at this point, when we were more than half-way to the stricken vessel and, indeed, could even see the damaged peaks and overhangs of the plateau where it had flown through them, that our newest student decided to ask me if there were any relevant planetary authorities who should be contacted. I suppressed a flash of irritation at his ignorance, generously conceding that he was, after all, new and, at least, had the sense to seek the answer from the one individual best equipped to deal with the situation. He had, after all, arrived after the Master’s yearly address on the powers and responsibility of a JedI Watchman and his apprentices. Such ignorance can always be excused when it travels hand in hand with the desire to learn. Even Danshi might be gracious and perceptive enough to admit thus, I have learned.
In any case, I quickly summarised the content of the lecture in as few words as possible. Explaining that the planetary capital was a capital in name only with no authority outside its own town limits (I hesitate to call such a dreary hole a city, regardless of its grand pronouncements to the contrary) and that we, as the deputies and assistants to the systems Watchmen, were in the fact the only local authorities both empowered to and likely to bother to intervene. This brought, thankfully, a moment of silence from this most difficult individual, allowing me to return my thoughts as to how best approach the ship.
I instructed Za`iin to circle the crash site before landing. The ship had come to rest in a hollow, its bow submerged under collapsed rubble from the surrounding crater wall which had, from a distance, created the illusion that the ship had actually pierced the rock wall like a blade. The confining nature of the hollow made it difficult to circle from a good angle and much of the ground beneath us was covered by overhanging rock. Concerned about this lack of visibility from the air, I nevertheless instructed our Zaabrak pilot to set us down where she may. But not before my companions endeavoured to reach out through the force in an attempt to locate any survivors. Alas, in this we were unfortunately most unsuccessful.
To distract my junior colleagues from the tension no doubt building inside their minds and muscles I regaled them with a monologue regarding the corrosive properties of Recosia's cloudy atmosphere with regards to its effects on terrain, quoting a surprisingly detailed lecture by Professor Tossk of Coruscant I had heard some years before. I concluded by stating (for the benefit of Danshi of course) that while breath masks were not strictly necessary at this elevation, given the recent precipitation over this area the night before, I would be wearing mine regardless.
I finished just as Za`iin put us down with nary a nudge to indicate our land-fall, and, after informing the others that I would investigate alone for the time being, stepped from the vehicle through one of its side doors. I felt rather than sensed Danshi leave the Sled through the other side door regardless of my instructions - he is a wilful and disobedient wretch. However, I had only just suppressed my rising indignation - which threatened to become that most dreaded of Jedi emotions - irritation- when I noticed the ships escape hatch was open and untended.
Where were the survivors in their eager rush for assistance?
I knew then that we faced adversity.
That was when I sensed movement in the rocks above.
ENTRY 2.
We were surrounded, in mere moments we found ourselves faced with no less than seven huge red-skinned brutes, each a fearsome Maasassi warrior-slave of the Sith. Even as I heard more of the beats rush down the crater walls behind me, the three directly above and to my right unleashed a hail of alchemically hardened stone discs from their Lanverock’s.
Reacting with commendable swiftness, I fell immediately into my favoured light sabre stance, the sublime blaster deflecting-manoeuvres of the third light sabre form. My hands moved in perfect motion, the copper-golden blade of my Master’s light sabre intercepting and carving though each projectile as it soared towards me. Or, at least, it would have had I actually remembered to draw my light sabre let alone light it. Alas, to my great and ever-lasting shame I must confess that my discipline and self-control failed me at his point. In the sudden and unexpected stress of the moment, I had neglected to perform even the most basic of safety procedures in drawing my light sabre. Perhaps, foremost in my mind, had been the knowledge that a Jedi should never draw a weapon unless he is prepared to use it. I had sought not to panic any survivors with the sight of an armed stranger approaching. And thus was nearly my undoing.
I felt two painful blows, like the strike of one of my old Arkanian bodyguard-tutors, save that careful Shutchek had never been so crass as to draw blood. Unlike these petulant Maasassi ! For a moment, I reeled, dazed by the fierce ringing in my temples. But then my cognitive functions cut through the white noise of pain as the bow of a ship through the waves. This revealed to me that the roaring I could now hear could only be the noise of repulsor engines.
Behind me, as I strove to centre and recover my essential energies, I heard (and felt) rather than saw the death of two of our foes, accompanied by the loud thunk characteristic of that made by multiple organic forms following the impact of a high-peed projectile (in this case, our Cargo Sled) as it reversed towards me.
In my peripheral vision, I saw Danshi retreat (wisely) towards the oncoming Sled, through a hail of projectiles. Meanwhile, I attempted to enter a Battle Trance as I (finally) drew and ignited my weapon.
Truly, never before had the snip-hiss and sudden heat produced by the activation of this ancient and venerable weapon seemed so sweet to my aural cognicators. Alas, the pain was too great to allow my full sublimation to the will of the force in this time of need, yet I felt my breathing deepen and my focus narrow nonetheless. There was nothing left but myself, my surroundings, and the bright presence of my fellow living creatures. With not in-considerable skill (false modesty is so unbecoming of a Jedi, is it not?) , I manoeuvred myself backwards at some speed while simultaneously weaving my weapons energy field about me in a skilful web of coruscating coppery-yellow energy through which no attack could penetrate.
Within mere moments I found myself back at the rear of the speeder, even as Za`inn brought the prow of our vessel around in a remarkably adroit and controlled spin. Ducking beneath the prow of our Sled as it passed overhead, I flipped backwards into the safety of the open side-door of the Sled, still spinning my weapon protectively, with the ease of a man stepping backwards through an open door. Never before had I felt so connected to the force. So alive with its sublime and effusive energies. Flushed with excitement, I nevertheless maintained my Arkanian reserve even while I felt the admiration of my fellows. Truly, it would seem even Khitana was struck by this impressive display of skill.
As we sped away, I immediately set myself to dressing the wounds of both the Sidhe and myself. I chose, wisely of course, not to observe that Danshi had ignored my wise and considered instructions to his great injury and distress. I trusted even then that the lesson had been sufficiently learned, and that perhaps the young alien would trust to my greater wisdom in any of our future endeavours - and most assuredly in this present crisis also.
Za`iin took us to a safe altitude above the crash sight. In accordance with my duties as senior Padawan, I engaged the others in a brief debate regarding our course of action. After all, to act without due thought is not the Jedi way. Only through meditation and introspection can a Jedi know the will of the Force - and therefore contemplation was necessary to ensure that our future actions would be the correct ones.
Dispassionately (as usual) I set forth that as we were the only armed force nearby, it fell to us to defend this world from the Sith warriors which now benighted it. I also stated the rather obvious fact that, without securing the crashed ship and the intelligence contained therein, we could never be sure if they arrival of this brutish foe to our small world came about through accident or design. Without swift action, I extrapolated, we might loose all chance to ascertain and assess the nature of the threat, if any, to this world and to our Praxeum.
Having achieved consensus that we must continue the fight I set about explaining what I knew of the enemy we faced - and the capabilities of their weaponry. Having confirmed that both my antique Pulse-Wave Pistol and Danshi’s archaic bow weapon had the advantage of range over the weapons of our foe, it was further agreed that we should return to the crash sight and attempt to eliminate as many hostile targets as possible from a height beyond the range of their primitive personal weaponry.
However, I was careful to encourage a cautious approach. Remembering the lessons of history, and our own, dear, blessed Master, I observed with something of a wry wit that just because we had not seen the invaders use any more advanced weapons, it did not mean they did not possess them.
In mere moments, Za`inn had returned us to the scene of our recent confrontation with evil. She circled in lazy, randomly evasive patterns as Khitana and Danshi reached out with their feelings, trying to locate our foe by means of all the senses available to them. I meanwhile, remained centred in the now. Contrary to any scurrilous rumours you may have heard, gentle reader , this had less to do with my rumoured deficiency in such areas of the force. Merely, I wished to ensure that at least one member of our group was grounded in the now. The better to direct the actions, and monitor the safety of, my fellow students.
Danshi, unsurprisingly, could sense nothing. But Khitana was able to sense the presence of four healthy foes inside the ship and two sentries outside. She also informed me, rather excitedly I thought, that four more life signs were present, but faint as though wounded. These last four were also to be found within the confines of the crashed vessel. However, sensing the presence of a foe is not the same as knowing where they are. And so, Za`inn passed the controls to me in the hopes that her survival-encoded Zabraak genetics would enable her to spot our foes.
Following directions from Khitana, I reluctantly brought the Sled lower, within enemy weapons range, in the hope that my three companions would be able to physically spot the two Maassasi sentries and take them under fire. I instructed my young companion Khitana to take my pistol and begin firing at the foes, hoping that the beams of coloured, ionised gas carried by the pulse wave would mark the position of our targets. I had little hope that she might actually harm anything with such a weapon, and when she nearly managed to shoot a hole in our own vehicle I helpfully informed her that she squeeze the trigger more gently, and offered brief instructions on how to align the sights.
Her next few shots identified the position of the first foe however, and I quickly realised he (or rather it) had been protected from our view by an overhanging piece of rock. At this same moment, the others saw the foe as he peeked out from behind a rock, I recall Za`inn shouting out the location of the second foe, even as two loud impacts on our chassis confirmed that we had come into range of our foes weaponry.
The next few moments resulted in a surge of activity. As one might have expected, Danshi reacted with something approaching panic and demanded that I take the Sled higher. Instead, I seized the opportunity afforded while the enemy warriors reloaded and brought the Sled in closer to one foe. As Khitana jumped across the small gap to engage the foe she stumbled dangerously. Fortunately Za`inn had already taken (indeed, near-snatched) the steering yoke from my possession and I was able to jump across before the startled creature could attack my vulnerable colleague. My blow near severed the warrior in twain. Behind me, I heard Danshi fire his bow at the second foe. Though I did not see it myself, Za`inn tells me that the young Sidhe seemed to curve the flight of the arrow with the force, so that it struck the second warrior even as it skulked behind cover. I missed this however, I felt a wash of sorrow and regret come over me that this warrior had come so far across the stars only to meet his death on a wretched world such as this. What might this warrior have become had his birth into a slave race not brought him to this sad place?
Yet my reverie lasted but a moment. Did not master Jann tell us in his “Nature of Reflection” that, although such thoughts are necessary to retin perspective upon the value of life, combat is not the place for such considerations. Already Khitani was back aboard our Sled. Za`inn was already pulling the Sled across to within a good leap of the second Maasassi when I jumped aboard.
From the Sled door I could see the warrior moving to a new position, Za`iin expertly threw the sled into reverse, circling round so that the side of our vehicle came to a halt barely an inch from the rock face. However, the indomitable Maasassi tore into our Sled with his weapons axe-like blade, causing it to lurch dangerously to one side.
Though I (of course) immediately understood this sudden motion to mean that our rear repulsor had been damaged, it was Khitani, the most mechanically gifted amoung us, who reacted first. “Take us out of here,” I believe she demanded, even as she tore the hatch of the Sleds rear maintenance panel. Danshi fired at the foe as we retreated (and it was, gentle reader, most certainly another retreat) but to no effect.
Khitani somehow kept us flying long enough for Za`iin to set us down in a cave, but only after our pilot thoroughly examined it through the force and physical eyesight (Danshi’s ability to sense only a few small reptile-analogues and my only assurances that these were harmless evidently being insufficient assurance for her. Sometimes I wonder that she is willing to trust her own eyes!).
Once there, Khitana set to making proper repairs, and we were able to once again consider our future plans.
Once again taking control of the situation, I outlined the current scenario as I saw it. We could either await the arrival of Master Lashem and further reinforcements. Or we could work to wrap the matter up ourselves. I pointed out that our foes were not depleted in number and that our own wounds were minor. I then reminded the others that it is our responsibility as members of the Jedi Order to protect this world from any and all threats