Legacy: Isha'ran

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Legacy: Isha'ran

Post by AuroraEve87 » Mon Oct 30, 2017 8:58 am

Last edited by AuroraEve87 on Sun Jul 01, 2018 5:15 pm, edited 3 times in total.

Posts: 8
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Re: Legacy: Isha'ran

Post by AuroraEve87 » Wed Nov 01, 2017 5:02 pm

28 Before Yavin
Age: < 1


On Ryloth, nestled precariously in the thin zone between the two extremes of the planet, the city of Kala'uun nonetheless managed to sustain itself, if not to flourish.

Far from the city center, in one of its myriad less fortunate little dwellings, one family finds itself hearing an unusual visitor. The occasion is not a happy one; it is the same scene that has unfolded countless times, from one end of the galaxy to the other.

A Miraluka, garbed in the plain robes of her order, brings news that would rip the heart from a simple, ordinary home. She motions with an outstretched hand as she pleads her case to the huddled family.

"I realize that not all see it as an honor, but you must see it as opportunity."

A Twi'lek mother turns away, as if to hide the infant in her arms with her frame. A father is outraged as he leans toward the visitor, speaking through bared teeth.

"We pray for months and not one of you shows up to help. But here you are, quick as carrion spat, when you want something. Your "honor" does not keep us safe, or fed, or clothed."

The mother, running a finger along her cradled daughter's cheek, speaks quietly - in turn quieting the room.

"Is this how they came for you, too?"


"...Do you regret it?"

"No." The Miraluka woman allows a faint smile; one of many meager attempts to soothe the mother. "It is a life of duty and sacrifice, but there is grace in that."

"What... what will become of her?"

"The Temple is a peaceful place. She will study and grow, with a dozen other young ones at her side."

It is plain to see that the mother is conflicted, and the little dwelling falls silent as each struggles with what they feel. Certain realities cling to the struggling family like an inky shadow; they could not support this child. The first one had been a stretch, already.

Sooner or later, it is the fate of too many daughters of Ryloth to be sold as adornments, sparkling on the arm of some merchant or noble. Indeed, that was a very positive scenario. Some realities cannot be fought with love alone - the three arguing know this well. The infant's bleak fate hangs over her little head like an invisible sword, but the Miraluka is graceful enough not to wield the reminder as an argument.

"Will we see her again?"

"Would that I had such foresight. It is possible."

The father, pacing, holds his head in his hands as he struggles with what is happening before his eyes. Some torturous moments later, the infant Rutian is entrusted from one bosom to another. Looking at the precious burden in her arms, the Miraluka quietly reminds herself that it is better now than later.

At least, better for the child. The memory of the grieving parents would haunt her far beyond Coruscant.
Last edited by AuroraEve87 on Sun Jul 01, 2018 5:12 pm, edited 3 times in total.

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Re: Legacy: Isha'ran

Post by AuroraEve87 » Wed Nov 15, 2017 3:49 pm

20 Before Yavin
Age: 8


The training room was quiet save for the hum of her weapon, and the shuffling and pattering of her little feet. She went through the most basic motions and velocities of the Determination form; stances, sweeps and steps both measured and relentless. In truth, she savored these hours - they were an opportunity to build up a sweat and burn off her energy during the otherwise subdued days in the Temple. From the side of the room, her mentor's words bade her to stop.

"You move well. But, it is not your joints and muscles that should dictate your movement. You must find your center, flow with the Force, or Shii-Cho, and Ashla itself, will continue to elude you."

Cryptic as ever, the girl thought, as she deactivated the training weapon and bowed her head. She was sure she was improving; beginning to open herself up to the tides of what was around her, but it would be decades until she truly understood the lessons beyond the physical. As she straightened, she noticed her muscles whined and protested from the strain. She had a long way to go, but then, what youngling didn't?

It was with some reluctance that she concluded the session. While she loved the temple and could appreciate its quiet hallways and meditation chambers, there were moments like this one when she felt, frankly, perfectly stuck - removed from the greater world. Eight years had she lived here, and she was beginning to wonder what else there was.

Her mentor would not be her mentor, however, if she had not picked up on this change in her pupil. Indeed, it would not take a genius to predict that, for all the wonders in this place, a Twi'lek child would begin to chafe, not unlike a puppy kept indoors. For the most part, she had reinforced in her pupil the ideal that she simply must pledge and dedicate and devote herself to her training, but all training must be sustainable, and she had been a child as well, once.

"After you've cleaned up, we have been assigned a task in the Fobosi District. The courtyard, in half an hour."

The Miraluka woman turned to leave; she did not need her gifts of sight to note the budding excitement in the young girl. Isha'ran washed up so quickly that she arrived fifteen minutes early - though her tunic was on backwards. If her mentor noticed, she gave no sign but her usual nod. As the pair began their trip, the spring in the girl's step was obvious.


Her eyes were wide and her head swiveled this way and that as they made their way through the streets of the city-planet. Vendors peddled their colorful wares, so different from the subdued browns and whites. Unknown but delicious scents drifted from other stalls; hot food that was decidedly less sober than her usual fare. Students of all species made their way to the university that shared this district, and the girl did her best not to stare or show too much excitement.

The streets were so busy; she subconsciously began to hide behind her mentor's robes as they turned down one of the larger streets. It seemed like they passed a dozen people every second, and she wondered how anyone could possibly keep up with this. Force sensitivity did not help matters in the slightest; it was all overwhelming to her senses, accustomed as they had become to stillness and introspection. For a moment, it became decidedly too much, as she retreated to the relative stillness and safety of an alleyway. Her mentor followed, curiously.

"What is the matter?"

It pained the girl to admit it, to this person most of all, but she was not a liar. Peeking around the corner and holding onto the nearest wall as if it would help ground her, she looked up at her mentor and hoped for understanding.

"There's... there’s too much happening. It feels like drowning in a wild river."

"Ah... aptly put. Take your time; we have plenty."

"Thank you, master. It seems I'm not as fearless as I'd like to think."

The response elicited a curious look from the woman, who knelt down by her pupil with a worried tone.

"Is that what you desire? To be fearless?"

"Well.. the Temple teaches serenity-"

Her words trailed off when the Miraluka shook her head, ever so slightly.

"I am glad you describe your fear as a river, Isha'ran, because you do not learn how to swim if you spend your life avoiding rivers. Do not wish to be fearless. It is only when you are very afraid that you can come to know courage. We are brave not when we are fearless, but when we decide that something is more important than our fear. Do you think a battle droid is courageous? That a machine knows serenity?"

Interesting questions, and the girl's nerves flared up as she remembered that she was approaching the age where initiates might be selected as padawans. She wanted desperately to answer intelligently, but though her mind raced, wit is often most elusive when we want to show it. She responded, instead, with a few words that were generally regarded as humble, if not wise:

"I don't know. What do you think?"

It was always difficult to tell the woman's state of mind, but this time the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly. She stayed kneeling and placed her hand over the child's heart.

"The tranquility you seek lies in the mastery of one's heart, not in its abandonment, and not in its exaltation. In the same way, do not lock away your heart for the sake of the Temple, or anyone. You cannot possibly guard against turmoil, this river you feel, if you have never known the power of its currents. It is only when you've known sorrow, known heartbreak, known joy, that you can master your heart instead of fearing it, or worse, being slave to it.”

It was a great deal to process for the young girl, and her eyes drifted down to the street as she lingered on the implications of what was said.

"Something to meditate on, hmm?"

The Miraluka offered her hand, which Isha'ran took happily. The rest of the trip was spent in thoughtful silence, and indeed, somehow, the deafening street never looked nearly as frightening. The girl was reminded how fortunate she was to have this mentor - and she would never quite be the same for it.
Last edited by AuroraEve87 on Sun Jul 01, 2018 5:12 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Re: Legacy: Isha'ran

Post by AuroraEve87 » Mon Nov 27, 2017 4:53 pm

19 Before Yavin
Age: 9


She had been tense for the entire journey, but only now that the small spacecraft was beginning its landing routines did she catch herself trembling. Sheer nerves, of course. Outside, Ilum and its frozen temple were waiting. And, somewhere within, force willing, a kyber crystal would call to her.

Taking cautious steps down the ramp of the small spacecraft, Ilum’s freezing wind hit her square in the face, nearly sending her scampering back inside. Nearly, but not quite. As the durasteel ramp gave way to snow and ice, she tried to steady herself for the trials ahead. From behind, her mentor’s voice came one last time.

“Remember; I cannot help you. These are your trials.”

Indeed, it was unusual for a mentor to even join her protegee here. Isha’ran understood that the Miraluka was here on her own mission from the Council, something about unwelcome thieves on the planet’s surface - truthfully, she hadn’t listened very well, so intent on her own impending trials.

Shielding her eyes against the biting wind and sleet, she could see the silhouette of the crystal and ice-encased temple looming ahead. She felt a sting of despair as she realized how far from the site they had landed. One foot in front of the other, she reminded herself; every journey begins with single steps.

Still, with every minute she felt herself regaining a bit of her stoicness. After all, she had done all she could to prepare. There was nothing else. What transpired next would be the will of the Force, and in that there is no failure or success - only its inexorable tides.

Before too long, though her extremities had become quite numb, she could reach out and touch the seemingly timeless stone of the temple’s archways. She was happy to be out of the wind, simply, and as its howling quieted, she could swear that she heard a slight crystalline song coming from within the structure. Something else was strange, though - she began to feel tremors in the force that she had no hope of understanding - she knew only that they made her feel unwell.

But, that in turn was quickly smothered by the sound of approaching feet, someone shouting her name. She spun quickly, puzzled and surprised. The Miraluka came for her, grabbed her shoulders and spoke in a tone the girl was not used to hearing; uncompromising, harsh, and mixed with emotion.

“The thieves - Isha’ran, run for the northern peak. Now. Don’t look back.”

She didn’t understand in the slightest. Her trial was just starting- had she failed, somehow? To her horror, the Miraluka woman grabbed the Twi’lek girl’s initiate beads, attached lightly to her lekku in the absence of a braid, and tore them off in a quick, painful motion. Small drops of blood dotted the snow. The woman repeated the last command, more forcefully, and Isha’ran simply… ran. For the northern peak, she supposed.

One part of her mentor’s command she didn’t obey, however - she did look back. Some time later, in the distance, she saw her mentor’s spacecraft shot down by what seemed like a Republic vessel. Surprise, horror and fear mixed in her guts as she ran ever faster, eyes wide and unbelieving, to the north.

Ilum’s wind could not quite blow away the black smoke rising from the blazing wreck of her master’s ruined vessel - a scene that would haunt her for many years, but at least it also offered the fleeing girl a good measure of camouflage. She arrived at the peak, seemingly free of any pursuit, and quickly noted why her mentor must have sent her here.

A band of people - various species, but all of them at the ready by what had just happened. Blasters were leveled and one of them shouted at her, demanding an explanation. Isha’ran simply slumped, falling to the snow in front of them. As the world spun around her, in tandem with her own feverish thoughts, she could hear their voices. A gruff one, deep yet cold, followed by a warmer murmur.

“Kriff, just leave her. We gotta go - yesterday!”

“She’s just a kid. We’re not leaving her to freeze to death. Get the hatch, and bitch at me later.”

She felt herself being lifted up and carried into another craft, mercifully sheltered from Ilum’s incessant winds. Her heart pounded, her body hurt, she only wished to see her mentor again - her trials had largely fled her mind. The same two voices came again, one distant, and one from the man carrying her.

“A Republic blockade? That doesn’t make kriffin’ sense! This was such a stupid idea.”

“Just get us out, before it gets here. We’ll do the math later.”

As the vessel took off in a noisy rush, Isha’ran could have cried, had her mind caught up. She merely repeated to herself: it was not supposed to go this way.
Last edited by AuroraEve87 on Sun Jul 01, 2018 5:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Legacy: Isha'ran

Post by AuroraEve87 » Fri Jun 29, 2018 5:32 pm

5 After Yavin
Age: 32

The Galaxy felt different.

She was tired. Oh, her body had barely kept up over the years, but a deeper weariness had steadily taken root in her bones. Deeper than that, perhaps - if one was inclined to believe in erosion of the soul, of the spirit.


The air was different in Mos Eisley, much like she imagined it was everywhere. The place was colorful as ever, warm lights and warm sand, its various residents milling about busily. Stormtroopers manned their posts, but they knew it as well. The war had shifted. She pulled up the hem of her jacket and took a path around them, but for once, she did not mind.

She was a warrior; a rebel. Violence and conflict did not come easily to her, yet like so many thousands, she had taken up arms for what she felt was right. Or, perhaps more accurately, against what she felt was wrong. And now... they were rebels no longer. Time would tell precisely what they would become, but now, in the aftermath of the critical battles on and above the forest moon of Endor, the woman felt a precious, budding sensation - a kind of lightness, a promise that bubbled up from somewhere deeper still than her weariness. Hope. Hope that it was all coming to an end, that the Emperor's future had been averted.

They owed much to Commander Skywalker. Many in the Rebel Alliance had never put much stock in the cocky youth, yet his name alone hinted that he was marked by destiny. He had given them all a future that, just perhaps, they could face with light hearts and bright eyes, instead of more blasters and gritted teeth.

At least, that is what she promised to herself, that night under the Tatooine sunset. The life she'd lived so far has scarcely felt like her own, thrown about by currents beyond her control. It was a miracle she was alive - far too many of her fellow rebels had paid that price. Miracles are something to be thankful for, and a charmed life is one to be lived doubly.

Alive indeed, but who could say that they remained the same? No matter how much they believed in the rebellion, they had killed, and killed again. No matter their purpose, their hands were slick with blood. That was something they would all have to live with, something she would make amends for, even if only for her own sake. Perhaps that is what lured her to this corner of the arid planet; a desire to reconnect with her former self, before fear and war took their toll on her.

As the twin suns relented their scorching of the planet, the woman set out on her little sojourn. She couldn't say how long she walked, only that the sand was pleasant to her feet, and this new Galaxy seemed less possessed of a crushing weight. With every step she felt some strain fall off her being, until she arrived where she wanted to be. It had been far, far too long - twenty-five years, she supposed.

The thick protective jacket came off. Two pistols, unholstered, were put aside in the cooling sands. Hard link-steel gloves, an old unassuming short blade and a band of stimpacks - everything was removed until she felt unspeakably lighter. She valued these things, had carried them daily, had relied on them. Yet, somehow, they did not feel like her. She put them out of her mind. The woman's lekku twitched ever so slightly in anticipation, the excitement of coming home. For the first time in twenty-five years, the woman reached out gingerly; her mind looking for that ever-present source, not unlike the very heartbeat of the Galaxy.

... Or it should have been. It was closer to a minute pulse, for now, subdued where it had been overwhelming. Such was the price of survival. Yet, even that lifted the woman's spirits more than any martial victory. She felt, for once, less like the tired rebel and once again like the wide-eyed youngling, bursting with life and potential, before everything had come crashing down.


As if on queue, the first of the suns crested the horizon. For that priceless Tatooine night and its carefree morning, tears would stain her cheeks, and while her body was still, she truly felt like she soared.
Last edited by AuroraEve87 on Sun Jul 01, 2018 5:13 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Legacy: Isha'ran

Post by AuroraEve87 » Fri Jun 29, 2018 5:49 pm

5 After Yavin
Age: 32


She'd always had a soft spot for Dantooine, for a variety of reasons. As the vessel carrying her was filled to the brim with people of all species and ages, thick with chatter and sweat, she supposed she was hardly the only one.

Oh, she didn't mind the public shuttles in the slightest, but as she stood there gazing at the lush planet and the countless stars arrayed around it, there came again that slight pang in her chest; she missed her own ship, the freedom that came with it. Unfortunately, as the war dragged on and the Alliance's materiel dwindled, she had been kindly requested to relinquish her X-wing. She was, after all, never a particularly skilled pilot, and others could put the craft to better use. There was no place for pride in this war, she had reminded herself.

The woman took a moment to steel herself as the freighter continued its approach. Travel was always tense; she could not very well let her guard down like this. Perhaps one day it would be different - perhaps one day the Imperial Remnant would be made to release its grip on the galaxy, perhaps one day she could travel the hyperlanes without her fingers on a concealed DL-44. She liked that thought - the little things keep you going.

It had been an unusual message that lured her to Dantooine, but it did not take a savant to read between the lines. These were rebels, calling out over an old but trusty comm channel, and they cast a rather wide net, calling to a variety of groups that she knew were active on behalf of the New Republic.

As the freighter's landing pad hit the soft soil and the passengers disembarked to finally set foot on the lush planet, Isha'ran wasted no time getting clear of the Imperial Remnant presence and plotting a course. It seemed she still had some time - time enough for a stop that she had been putting off for far too long.


As her speeder picked up speed and the soft wind of the plains whipped past her cheeks, she was acutely aware of just why she was fond of Dantooine. Coming from sun-scorched, arid Tatooine, this place was another realm altogether - it teemed with life, and even she could sense the deep wells and currents flowing around her. She had hoped that, in this place, she could more readily reconnect with what she had lost. Perhaps that is also why she had been putting off the journey - another part of her feared that she was deluding herself.

The fields here were littered with old ruins, but there was one in particular that she unerringly sped towards. It was almost a pilgrimage, really - something she would perhaps never have dared if the war had not shifted as it had. To her relief, there did not seem to be anyone else here. She left the vehicle obscured by some overgrowth, and took her time to walk around the toppled stones. When she found a nook that seemed comforting, she went to her knees and stilled her mind, as she was taught long ago.

She couldn't say how long she sat there, reaching out and trying to reconnect with what she'd lost. There was no doubt that this place spoke to her more than Tatooine had, but after long hours she had made little progress; she had tapped into nothing at all. Frustration and impatience began to creep into her thoughts, and so she removed herself from the old ruins. Even in their broken state, they deserved better than that.

Walking back to her speeder, she fished a canister of pills from her satchel. Almost empty. She shook a few round pills into her hand and took them - they were bitter, like a shot of her t'ssolok with absolutely none of the redeeming aftertaste. Something to soothe frayed nerves, she had been told - something to stop her from shaking, from hearing explosives and the spray of blood, smelling the scent of blasted flesh.

She should have died on Hoth, or on Lothal. She should have died on Endor - better men and women did. Like many of the boots on the ground, the war had left her with new demons, ones she couldn't fight with steel or blasters.

She supposed that she'd been foolish to think that she could so easily reconnect with her past, with what she once was, when she had run from it so completely. Still, she remembered a kind face that would remind her of patience and determination. A glance at her datapad showed that the appointed time was now fast approaching. The rebel signal came from the south. She had duties to get back to, though she looked back over her shoulder most of the way.

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