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TOPIC: Trials of Transformation

Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56028

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Thanks a ton, Ovrcahst! It was a really fun part to write :)
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56068

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Borom, Thank you for writing! It's something that you do exceptionally well and there is great satisfaction with reading your publications (equally with Kered's) as the Plot's and Character developments progress. Granted that some highlights I reference make me out to be a prick, nit-picking your compositions. Do know it's not done with malice and with each delivery I actually have on the back of my mind if you do purposely sneak an anomaly in there just to see if it'll be spotted. :P
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56069

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Really really amazing writing Borom. I am enjoying your style. Keep up the wonderful writing work. Loving read your stuff :)
You give life, You are love.You bring light to the darkness.
You give hope, You restore every heart that is broken.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56082

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OvrcAHst wrote:
Borom, Thank you for writing! It's something that you do exceptionally well and there is great satisfaction with reading your publications (equally with Kered's) as the Plot's and Character developments progress. Granted that some highlights I reference make me out to be a prick, nit-picking your compositions. Do know it's not done with malice and with each delivery I actually have on the back of my mind if you do purposely sneak an anomaly in there just to see if it'll be spotted. :P

That means a lot, man, thank you.
MommyHoldMe wrote:
Really really amazing writing Borom. I am enjoying your style. Keep up the wonderful writing work. Loving read your stuff :)

Thanks, MHM! I'll keep it coming.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56736

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Part II

The lift reached the floor where Bor’om was quartered, and he stepped off and made his way to the sparse room that had been set aside for him. There was just the sleeping mat and a simple desk and chair. On the desk lay a datapad, left for him to submit his report to the archives. He crossed to it and set his Master’s remains beside it. Leaning over the pad, he entered a simple message. I trust you’ll see to the proper rites. He palmed a panel on the wall, which fell back to reveal a small closet, with a backpack and a few changes of clothes. He remembered the regular back and forth he would have with Neah about his insistence on the deep blue robes he wore. They payed homage to the people of his homeworld, a seafaring culture for whom blue garb represented an individual's connection with the sky and ocean. It didn’t seem as important now, though. His hand passed over the blue robes and pulled out the one traditional brown one. He could never argue against her point that the earthen brown robes the Jedi usually wore proved to be inconspicuous almost anywhere they went. He changed quickly, finally pulling socks and boots over his feet for the first time since his capture. Shrugging the robe onto his shoulders, he plucked the backpack from the closet and left the room without a backward glance.

Returning to the lifts, he continued down several more floors and stopped on the level housing the Temple’s training and sparring facilities. He walked along the series of small workshops along the walls, built to provide any Jedi in the Temple with the necessary materials for lightsaber repairs and construction; everything but a focusing crystal. Finding a workshop that was unoccupied, he set the backpack down on the workbench and sat still in front of it for a moment. He let any distracting thoughts disappear, surprised again to find that drifting into the meditative state was easier now than it had ever been. Under the glow of the dim lights, he began to move among the drawers and containers in search of the right parts, pausing occasionally to open one, hand gliding over the components inside.

The first piece presented itself; a simple handgrip, wrapped in sturdy black leather. It rose out of the drawer and floated over to the workbench, hovering there as if waiting. He continued scanning the collection of parts, and moments later, a coiling, spiral styled emitter matrix, distinguished by a number of thick blue wires separated itself from the other parts and levitated over the table. In quick succession a blade emitter of curiously darkened metal, with a thin black and copper neck, and a matching switch ringed by several vertical ribs joined the other parts. After long, searching moment, a power cell, a handful of joining screws and a thick, cylindrical pommel also joined the collection of floating parts. Turning, he examined the various pieces in the light of the workbench, each one rotating around on every axis for a better view. They were all in perfect condition, and when he was satisfied, they descended into several of the compartments of the back pack. Sealing and shouldering it, he made his way through the Temple once more, toward the hangar.

It was a slow time of day. On reaching the hangar he found the sunlight pouring through the bay entrance and the docking crews milling about, only a handful of them tending to a single landing shuttle. He ignored them and made for an unattended SGS-45 Quarrel near the bay entrance, and none of the workers gave him a second glance. Striding up the boarding ramp and into the cockpit, he set the backpack in the co-pilot’s seat and began the ignition sequence. The ship growled to life and as its various monitors and systems blinked on he began programming a destination. As the engines finished warming up, a red light began flashing on the console; someone contacting the ship. Hesitating only a moment, he keyed the audio-only through-put.

“Bor’om, what are you doing?” It was Master Tahn, his voice characteristically calm. In the cockpit, the young Jedi continued preparing the ship for takeoff as he answered.

“What must be done, Master.”

“Do not trample the Code, Bor’om. This is not the way to honor Neah Tenei. Don’t act on volatile emotions, young one!”

“I don’t, Master,” he answered, his own voice perfectly even. The final systems check cleared, and he grabbed the control sticks.

“Why are you doing this?” Tahn said, a note of resignation in his voice. There was a moment of silence.

“Because you won’t,” Bor’om replied, then killed the transmission and guided the ship out of the hangar bay. Quickly pushing the ship to maximum thrust, he had soon left the planet’s atmosphere. As soon as the computer gave him the greenlight, he activated the hyperdrive and just as quickly as he had come, left Coruscant behind.
~~~


Emerging from hyperspace over a large, industrial world, still within the Inner Rim, he spent several minutes examining planetary information in the ship’s computer before bringing the ship down at a large starport which the files indicated also dealt in used starships. Sure enough, as he descended from the ramp, he was greeted by a pair of well groomed, colorfully overdressed Ugnaughts. The nearer one spread his arms and bowed graciously, his vest stretching tightly over his stout figure.

“Welcome to Gentes,” he said, his voice an odd combination of squeaky and gruff, “Do you require docking services?”

“Or looking to buy?” his partner chimed in with a significantly deeper voice, hands holding the front of his coat self importantly. His beady eyes held a poorly masked look of hunger as they passed over the Quarrel.

“To trade,” replied the human. The two Ugnaughts looked at each other gleefully.

“Right this way, human, we have a fine stock to choose from” the first one said, then paused, “Er, for simple courtesy, what may we call you?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then reconsidered. The Jedi might not come looking for him, but then again, he had stolen a ship. There was also the fact that they had left Bor’om to die. Maybe it was better that he did.

“Borommakot,” he answered, adopting a lower form of his name. It would be unlikely to fool a determined tracker, but it was common enough, and separated him from a life that already felt like a long time ago.

“Very good,” answered the deep voiced Ugnaught, “Your ship appears to be in excellent condition. We’ll have a survey droid assess the value,” he snapped his stubby fingers and a spherical probe droid detached from a nearby charging station and hovered past them, muttering diagnostic code as it went, and began to scan the ship.

“What are you looking for?” Inquired the squeaky dealer.

“Just a one man ship that can manage distances without trouble,” Borom answered, scanning the ships available for sale.

“Simple tastes, hm? Wouldn’t know it looking at your old vessel, hm?” Chuckled the squeaky one, “Well I’m sure we’ve got just the thing.”

The Ugnaughts led him around the port, stopping at several different ships. He went aboard a few of them, but none of them drew any kind of reaction. Presently they paused as the datapad the coated dealer carried began to chirp.

“Ah,” the Ugnaught sighed, “the appraisal. Your, hm, Quarrel is it? Well based on this value, you could fly out of here with just about any light transport in our inventory.”

Borom pointed, “What about that one?” It was a small ship with a long nose and rear positioned cockpit, with two large, oblong engines that swept down diagonally away from the body. It would have cut something of a grim profile, were it not for the garish yellow color, broken up by a few streaks of red-brown oxidation.

“That old HWK-290? Well, it may be a little undervalue,” The Ugnaught said, waving a hand. Borom suspected the small freighter was more than a little less valuable than the Quarrel, but said nothing, “It’s fast, though, point-seven past lightspeed, and excellent fuel conversion rates.”

“I’ll take that and two thousand credits.” Borom said with a slight nod.

“Just two—” Started the squeaky one, before his partner cut in, “Of course! You have a deal, Borommakot!”

Another probe droid flew over while Borom signed the datapad, carrying a small, clear case containing the credits. Detaching it, Borom’s turned to the Ugnaughts who gave him the ownership title.

“One more question before I go,” he said, “Do you happen to know where I can get a good blaster?”
~~~


The HWK’s engines whined as they reached full power, carrying him away from Gentes. Inputting a new set of coordinates into the navcomputer, his hand hovered over the hyperdrive ignition. Looking out at the twinkling expanse, it occurred to him that he could go anywhere; there was nothing between him and thousands of other systems, and possible new lives. But that wasn’t what needed to happen. He was the only one who was going to do what needed to be done.

I may no longer serve the Jedi,he thought, but if anything, that makes my responsibilities greater, not less.

“Ilum it is,” he said aloud, triggering the hyperdrive. The stars stretched, spun and distorted, and the ship was gone.

Last Edit: 1 year 4 weeks ago by Borommakot.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56828

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Awesome,another fascinating entry keep it up your very good at it and I can't wait for more
The force is strong in this one.but the dark side is always there
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56872

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Thanks, man!
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56958

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Great delivery with Part II Borom. From concluding the debrief to The Council, flooded with initial anger tempered to disappointment, Bor'om made peace with his acceptance and decided to choose his own direction. The hints of nostalgia during his re-dress and Hilt configuration to his fallen Master set a nice tone of remembrance. Level headedness and composure now projects from him as he plots his own course achieving satisfaction to his re-evaluated and measured beliefs. This determination is commendable. Thank you. Looking forward to your delivery of Part III and the ensuing engagement of Bor'om's new adventures.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 month ago #56969

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Much appreciated, Ovrcahst :) I look forward to delivering.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 4 weeks ago #57834

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Part III

The ship dropped out of hyperspace to a white and gray sphere blossoming up in front of it. Ilum’s surface swirled with arctic storms, rendering anything but the strongest sensors and scanning equipment useless. The HWK was definitely not equipped for that, but Borommakot knew scanners could be fooled. It was just one of many ways the Jedi protected their sacred sites.

Borom brought the ship down through the buffeting winds and blinding snow, down to the planet’s surface, landing a short distance from a frozen cliff face. Reaching behind his seat, he pulled out the the heavy coat he had bought before leaving Gentes. Beneath it lay another purchase: a heavy blaster pistol in a new holster belt. He considered it as he pulled the coat on over his tunics, but eventually he turned his back on it. There was no danger here.

The ship’s canopy opened and he was stuck by the frigid wind. Bracing against it he grabbed the backpack and climbed out of the cockpit and dropped into the snow. He could barely hear the crunch over the howling storm, but he noted that the snow rose to his shins. He remembered his Gathering as a child, when it had seemed to come almost to his thighs. Pulling the hood of the coat up, he crossed the snowy plane to the cliff face, where he quickly found the crevice opening that led into the Temple.

The antechamber was dim, with the weather outside snuffing out most light, but there was still the soft illumination of the ice walls that surrounded it. Directly before him was the Temple entrance, sealed by a curtain of ice. Looking up, he could barely see in the heart of the gloom the apparatus used to concentrate the sunlight into a beam that would melt the ice at dawn. Borom didn't intend to wait that long. Climbing up the few steps to the frozen entrance, he reached out a gloved hand toward the wall of ice. Again, the focus came more easily than it ever had, and he directed the Force into a sudden pressure. A massive web of cracks spread across the wall, causing it to groan and buckle. Borom sent another shockwave through it and it shattered into thousands of pieces, leaving the way open.

For a moment, he stood still in the opening, straining to see inside. Cold air rushed out of the caves, sounding like whispers as it passed him. He shivered. The Force had tested him when be had first come, as it did all younglings during their Gathering. He didn't know if it wouldn't do so again. Inhaling deeply, he began making his way through the caves.

They’re darker than I remember, he thought, with just a few distant hints of glowing through the icy walls. Then again, the Gathering took place during the light hours of the day. Borom let his feet wander, thoughts stretched out in search of the right crystal. He had taken several turns, leaving the entrance far behind, when he heard something. It was like a breathe of air, but more distinct. An actual whisper. Borom cocked his head down the tunnel ahead, trying to hear the source. It came again, clearly a voice, but he couldn't hear what it said. He crept forward as silently as possible.

“Bor’om.”

It was crystal clear this time, though hardly any louder. The hairs on his neck stood on end, as though he was feeling the cold for the first time, and he stood straight up.

“Bor’om!” The voice hissed out. He whirled and ducked down a side passage. Was it the Jedi? How could they know what I was planning to do? He hadn't seen any sign of another ship, but if they had known he would come, it wouldn't have been any trouble to hide it. And they would stop him from getting a crystal.

He slipped into another tunnel, when he caught a movement in the corner of his eye, and spun and froze. No one appeared. Maybe they hadn't seen him. Easing backward, he turned and hurried further in keeping low.

He briefly considered whether it was worth the risk to push on, but he didn't know of anywhere else to find a crystal. This will be my only chance. He concentrated again. Almost immediately, he felt himself being pulled deeper inside the caves. He moved in the direction of the pull.

“Bor’om, stop!” It was a shout now, but it was no clearer where it came from. He shook his head, flattening himself against the cave wall. Still, he saw no other movement. Crouching again, he moved further through the caves. He spotted a glow growing stronger ahead of him, through one of the icy walls, and the pull intensified the moment he noticed it. He picked up his pace. Despite his best efforts he began to feel something, creeping out of the dark hole in his mind with nauseating pulses. He began to be afraid.

He was so close, but had no idea how close the Jedi were behind him. And what would he do if they caught him? Fight his way out? He felt the Force more strongly since walking out on the Council, but things were still pushing against the edges of that pit in his mind where he had bottled his emotions. Things like this fear, already threatening his grip on the Force. Even if he were strong enough…to fight the Jedi? They weren’t the enemy.

Panting slightly he rounded a corner and froze. There, dead ahead was a shining point of yellow light embedded in the side of a stalactite that reached down almost to the chamber floor. But he felt it now, a presence. Had there been only one this whole time?

If he was quick he might be able to grab the crystal before the Jedi caught up with him. He lunged forward, swinging the backpack off his shoulders. He skidded to his knees beside the stalactite where the crystal gleamed, setting the pack on the ground in front of him. As gently and as quickly as he could, he teased the crystal out of the ice.

He paused, looking at it for a moment. It was a deep, amber color, thicker than his old crystal, with smooth sides, but knobbed, angular ends. A cracking sound from the caves brought him out of his reverie, and he shut his eyes.

The crystal floated out of his hand, hovering at eye level. One by one, the components in his backpack floated out, lining up on either side of the crystal. They rotated there as some of the smaller pieces made small movements to line up correctly. Finally they froze. The glow in the crystal intensified.

Borommakot heard more sound from the caves behind him, but furrowed his brow and focused harder. He felt the tendrils of fear and anger reaching out of the dark in his mind, and he willed the hole to close around them. The crystal glowed brighter in response. A crack in sounded in the ice, closer than ever, and then, the voice.

“Bor’om.” Right behind him. His eyes flashed open, and the saber snapped together, dropping into his open hand as he spun and ignited it's brilliant amber blade, finally answering.



“Bor’om is gone,” he said coldly. The creeping emotions vanished, driven back into the hole, and he steeled himself to face a Jedi…only to be left staring in confusion. The cave was empty. There was a perfectly smooth wall in front of him, the one that he had turned around to enter the chamber. Beyond, the caves were still and silent. Illuminated by the saber’s glow, he saw himself reflected on the wall.

He slowly lowered the pulsating blade, approaching the mirror-smooth surface. So, he had been tested again after all. He had been hiding from himself the whole time.

“You think I’m hiding?” He said aloud, with only echoes in reply, “You’re wrong. Bor’om’s weakness is my strength! I’m doing what needs to be done!” He added forcefully. Nothing. Sighing through his nose, he deactivated the lightsaber and straightened up. He gave the cold walls a long, hard look.

“You’re wrong,” he whispered. Stooping he picked up the backpack and started the trek out of the caves, hanging the newly completed lightsaber on his belt. He remained attentive on the path out of the caves, wary for any sign of life, but there was none. At last he made it back to the entrance, and found that the ice had reclaimed almost half of it. Had really been that long? Ducking under, rather than shattering it again, he crossed the antechamber, steps slowing as he reached the crevice opening that would take him back out into Ilum’s elements. He couldn’t shake the feeling the caves had left him with, or force it into the pit with the rest of his ability to feel.

I don’t need that to feel the Force, he assured himself, tossing the backpack up into the HWK’s canopy as it opened, My focus is stronger now that I have forsaken feeling and it was worth the price.

Settling into the pilot’s seat he began the ignition sequence. The ship’s engines powered up and it began to rise.

The Jedi may think their hands are too tied to deal with this “Court” of slavers, but mine aren’t. And if I succeed and the Order won’t receive me back…it will be worth the price.

Last Edit: 1 year 3 weeks ago by Borommakot.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 4 weeks ago #57932

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Nice as always what a fun read I'll be looking out for the next part
The force is strong in this one.but the dark side is always there
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 3 weeks ago #57977

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Thanks a bunch, Kered :)
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 3 weeks ago #58227

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:lol: Falling behind with my leisurely reading however not forgotten. Another great delivery Borommakot. Recipe is as consistent as always and it is demonstrated well with your Writing. Demon's within oneself are a common enemy and testing of Trials and it's no different here with the forward determination of a Jedi. Will be exciting to follow Bor'om's next destination. Thank You.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 3 weeks ago #58229

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Many thanks, Ovrcahst!
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 3 weeks ago #58656

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Part IV
~~Three Years Later~~

A battered HWK-290, once yellow, but now faded almost to tan, emerged from hyperspace over a moon of the planet Galaan, one of the handful of inhabited moons. Barely reducing speed, the ship punched through the gray moon’s atmosphere, finally slowing as it approached a spaceport surrounded by small city, spread loosely around the port. The HWK’s pilot thumbed the comms channel open.

“Baysend Port, this is the freighter Outlast, requesting docking clearance.”

A voice crackled through the commons in response, “Freighter Outlast, transmit documentation and hold course pending approval.”

Borommakot sent the transmission and sat back, letting the autopilot take over. Momentarily, the comms chirped again. “Outlast, you are clear for landing with a two rotation permit. Proceed to docking platform three twenty seven.”

“Copy, Port. Proceeding,” Borom passed the information to the ship’s computer and folded his arms as the ship descended, rotating to face out of the port before landing. The canopy lifted and Borom stepped onto the small ladder that had been shunted over by a docking droid, climbing down to the platform, careful not to catch his robe on anything.

He wore the same off-white tunics and brown robe; they had weathered but proved their durability. There were only a few of burn marks and holes scattered across his garb. He looked around, scratching the short beard he now wore. There weren’t any officials or workers present, besides a team of droids, and the control tower was quite a distance away, at the center of the port. Apparently security wasn’t much of an issue.

Sniffing at the hot, dry air, he crossed the platform and took a lift down to ground level, exiting onto a wide avenue that bustled with activity. Across the street a long series of shop fronts and building facades extended all along the street, mostly in nondescript grays and yellows, broken up by occasional scab-like patches of brown where plaster had cracked or peeled away. On his own side of the street, stands and stalls of all sizes and colors were erected up against the terminal wall, their vendors clamoring for attention from the pedestrians. Borom relaxed; he would fit in fine here.

Glancing up the street he spotted a small hotel, and looking down in the other direction, a few bars and cantinas. Two days, he thought, A two day pass to investigate these new disappearances. No time to waste, he turned and headed toward the nearest bar. Alcohol and spaceports were the perfect combination for scrounging information. Between disgruntled employees, bragging pilots and the odd merc or bounty hunter, there was always someone who had heard something.

Borommakot stepped through the sensor gate and up the couple of steps to the main floor. The place was rowdy, and full, perfect listening in and asking questions. Wading through the strong smells and unsteady bodies, he found a place along the wall and began to survey the room. The best place to start would be with the ones who looked less than enthusiastic…people trying to drown their problems, trying to escape reality and failing. There, an old, bearded human who stared so hard into his drink, he might have actually lost something in it.

Borom got up and went over to him, sliding into the seat across from the bearded man, who took no notice. After a pause, Borom spoke up.

“So,” his voice made the bearded man jump, “been hearing about these abductions?”
~~~

One day passed, and the second wore on, but he found nothing. Entering yet another grimy establishment, he sidestepped a gray-cloaked figure hurrying the other way, and began looking at the faces he’d have to work with. Some he even recognized from other bars. He had trawled through just about every pub, club and cantina surrounding the port, but it seemed that the ship turnover was too high for any of the pilots to get a lasting impression; no one seemed to stay longer than the initial two rotation pass. On the other hand, the locals…they knew something, Borom could tell, but they didn’t want to talk. Something compelled them not to talk.

“Fine,” he sighed at the conclusion of another unhelpful interview with one of the people who lived in the port city, “Do you at least know of any ship captains who’ve been around more than a few days?” To his surprise, the man nodded.

“Zydo, flies freight,” the man added, clearly relieved at the opportunity to get rid of Borom, “He’s right over there.”

The local pointed and Borom’s gaze followed, picking out a tall, thick man in a green flightsuit that would have been quite clean, except for the still soaking stains from his drink, splashed across his front. He was standing beside his booth, absently padding the damp clothing with a rag, staring red-faced and angrily at the the entrance. Borom nodded to the local, and promptly got up and walked over.

“You’re the one called Zydo?”

The pilot snapped out of his angry reverie and looked at Borom standing next to him.
“Huh? Who’s asking?” It sounded like he’d already got a drink or two in him before spilling his latest one. He looked Borom over, and didn’t seem impressed.

“My name is Borommakot. You need another drink?”

The pilot’s expression relaxed, “Should’ve led with that. Corellian ale, no ice,” Zydo sat down, still trying to dry his flightsuit, while Borom went to the bar and back, setting one glass of green-tinged liquid on the table.

“Not drinking?” Zydow asked. He was more at ease than before, but Borom could still hear the annoyance of a spilled drink in his voice, “That mean this is business?”

“Of a sort,” Borom nodded, “I’m told you might know something about the abductions that have bee—”

Suddenly Zydow was on his feet, face flushing splotchy red again, finger jabbing at Borom as he leaned over the table.

“Oh, you’re with the white haired harpy, aren’t you!?” He shouted, “Y’think this some kind of joke? This’s my best outfit she ruined! And after I answered all her stupid questions!” His hand was inching shakily toward the blaster at his hip as he exploded, “Well blast the both of yo—”

“You need to relax,” Borom said, voice as even as ever, his hand shifting across the table in a casual gesture. Zydow blinked and slowly straightened up.

“I need to relax,” he said, and sat down again.

“You should enjoy your drink,” Borom added.

“I should enjoy my drink,” Zydow chorused, a peculiarly resolute look on his face as he scooped up the glass again.

“Now rest assured, my friend, I’m not here with anyone’s business but my own. But you know what I’m talking about. Tell me what you told her, and who knows, maybe you’ll ruin all her plans, eh?”

Zydow looked blearily at him for a long moment, and then nodded so deeply Borom thought he might have briefly passed out.
“Well, she comes to me, tells me how her poor brother got taken out of Baysend a month back, just vanished, and she’s just begging anyone for information,” Zydow said, “So I told her. I told her, well rumor was there’s this new syndicate getting traction in the outer rim. Word is they’re competing with the Zygerrian slave trade…directly,” Zydow finished confidentially. Borom waited for him to continue as the pilot took a long draught from his glass, but when he put the cup down he just stared dumbly at the former Jedi. Finally, Borom prompted him.

“And?”

And,” Zydow said emphatically as though the conclusion was obvious, “They’re doing it with Inner Rim slaves! Where the Zygerrians would never go!”

“Yes, but that can’t be all you gave her,” Borom pressed, “Surely there’s some rumor of a name, a location, something?”

Zydow was mumbling to himself, “She just said she had to get back to the private docking bay before her pass expired, an’ I just suggested I could keep her company. Next thing I’m covered in my own ale…”

“Focus, Zydow,” Borom lunged across the table and grabbed the freight captain by the back of his hair, “Who. Is taking. The captives?”

The man stared back at Borom, eyes anything but focused. A second later he heaved a sigh and went limp, completely unconscious. Borom let go of him and his red face planted itself on the table. Getting to his feet, Borom hurried to the entrance. He couldn’t wait around for Zydow to recover; his own docking pass would expire soon. His only chance now was to find the white haired woman who had questioned Zydow first.

Hitting the street, Borom looked around for a taxi, but finding none, he broke into a run. There were a handful of private docking bays around Baysend port, but only one within walking distance. If this woman had taken a transport to one of the further bays, he’d have to try and get one from this first port. Suddenly the sound of every ship taking off made his blood pound harder; there was no telling which of them might have his one lead.

Finally he reached the private docking entrance, but of course, the door was sealed. Reaching out with the Force, he was able to override the locking mechanism and open it, running inside. In the center of the bay was magnificent ship, with a blue and white hull, almost too large to be a private transport. It had a broad prow that tapered back into the body before expanding again to accommodate escape pods situated on either side, and large, powerful engines.
At the end of each side of the prow were dual laser cannons, and though it was fairly clean overall, there was enough carbon scoring to tell that it had had to use the cannons before. Borom could just make out some sort of design painted across the bridge, but it stretched onto the back of the ship and out of sight.

Borom almost didn’t notice the figure in the gray cloak ascending the boarding ramp, but the sudden hiss of ship’s hydraulics caught his attention and he looked down. He’d seen that cloak leaving the bar.

“Hey!” he called out, and the figure turned, exposing a glimpse of pure white hair inside her hood, “It’s you,” Borom said, almost to himself as the woman turned to face him. He called to her again as he approached the ship, “You’re trying to find your brother, right?” He stopped near the foot of the ramp as she set down the crate of supplies she was carrying and straightened up, removing her hood. He was surprised. He had expected an aged woman, but by her pale complexion she looked no older than him. She regarded Borom with emerald green eyes, but when she didn’t immediately reply, he went on.

“Perhaps I could offer some help? I’m looking for the captured locals as well.”

She sniffed, “Since when did the Jedi bother with anything beyond the Inner Rim?” She spoke smoothly, with a hint of an unfamiliar accent.

“I’m not a Jedi,” he replied flatly, straightening up.

“Really? Because you dress like one, and last I checked, Jedi were the ones with the monopoly on these…” Her hand opened toward him, and before he could react he felt something tug at his belt. His lightsaber shot out of the folds of his robes and landed in her waiting palm, where she ignited it with a small smirk.

Last Edit: 1 year 2 weeks ago by Borommakot.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 3 weeks ago #58704

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That was a great Part IV Borommakot. I have been anticipating this all week since reading your last. Wouldn't it be great that a fast-forward in time could be achieved when waiting for our Orders to ship? :P I somewhat foresee some strategically inserted flashbacks retracing the absence of the 3 Years passed. There is reassurance and a feeling of celebration knowing that Bor'om's investigations has returned a favourable lead. Importantly though, Who is this mysterious White-haired woman that paths have been crossed with? The next 7 days will indeed be a long one. Can hardly wait, thank you.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 2 weeks ago #59392

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Thanks Ovrcahst! I quite forgot to check the FanFic gallery this week! But I didn't forget to write:
Part V

In a flash, Borom’s blaster was in his hand.

“I’ll have my weapon back...now,” he said.

The woman looked at him for a few moments.

“Well, that’s not the weapon of a Jedi,” she answered coolly. After another pause, she shrugged, deactivating the blade, and tossed the hilt down toward Borom, where it drifted the last few feet into his hand like a leaf on the wind. Borom holstered his pistol and replaced the lightsaber on his belt.

“You know the force…trained as a Jedi? Left the Order?” he asked suspiciously.

She narrowed her eyes, “You catch on quick.”

“You're after the same people as I am,” Borom answered quickly, “Tell me what Zydow told you. The more there are looking, the sooner we find your brother, and the others who have been abducted.”

“Heh, I don't have a brother, I just plied that story to get people talking,” she crouched and picked up the crate she had been carrying, “I don't have time to talk. This trail gets colder every minute, and I don't fancy my ship getting impounded by the port authority.”

Borom’s hand went to his temple. He'd forgotten about the docking pass. By now, it had expired, and his own ship would have been impounded. But she’s right, he thought as he watched her retreat up the ramp, time is running out for these captives.

“Then let me help!” He called.

“Help from your own ship,” she replied without looking back.

“I might have, if my ship hadn't been seized thanks to a certain obstinate woman refusing to make either of our lives any easier!”

She stopped at the top of the ramp and set the crate down, and then turned and faced him, resting a hand on the wall, one eyebrow raised. He waited expectantly, but right as he was about to break the silence, she pressed a button and the ramp began to rise.

“Really?” He asked over the sound of the hydraulics. He knew he should have been angry. Exasperated. Maybe desperate. There was none of that, though. Only a sense of urgency, “You don’t think it convenient that two former Jedi arrive at the same port within hours of each other, in search of the same thing?”

As the boarding ramp blocked her completely from sight, she raised a hand and waved condescendingly. Mere inches before the ramp sealed, Borom had an idea.

“Which name did Zydow give you?” He blurted.

The ramp stopped, just a sliver still open. Borom raised an eyebrow in apparent satisfaction. From inside, he thought he heard a sigh, and then the ramp began to lower. When it finally touched the ground, the woman came down the ramp to face him. She was exactly his height, and stared fixed his eyes with a stare both annoyed and searching.

“You have a name?” She said simply.

“I might,” Borom nodded, folding his arms across his chest.

“Then what do you need me for?” she leaned back and mimicked the gesture.

“Zydow was a little under the weather when I left him. Your visit hadn’t done much to soften his mood before I got there. I couldn’t get him to tell me everything,” He paused as if thinking, and then his eyes widened in mock realization, “Oh, and my ship’s been impounded.”

Somewhere outside the walls of the port, the sounds of traffic sirens began drifting toward them. Borom cocked his head toward them, and then toward her, “That could be them headed this way, now. So?”

“Give me the name.” She tried, eyes drifting over the entrance to the docking bay.

“It’s yours if you help me see this through,” Borom answered, now matching the stare she’d given him. Her lip curled in a small snarl.

“Fine. Get on board,” she turned on her heel and marched up the ramp, Borom following. It rose behind them as she led the way down the ship’s main corridor, up to the cockpit. The interior of the ship reminded him of those the Jedi maintained; it was all clean white or cream paneling and warmly lit; it felt almost natural, like a skeleton. Borom quickly noted an incessantly blinking comms light as he entered the cockpit, which she quickly dismissed as she settled into the pilot’s chair.

“Yes, yes, I’m leaving,” she grumbled, as the ship’s engines flared to life. Borom dropped into the co-pilot’s seat, and she snapped her attention away from the controls toward him, “Don’t touch anything.”

He held up his hands innocently, and then folded his arms, settling back in the chair. The ship rose steadily, and as it cleared the port, Borom could see on one of the monitors that port authority vehicles had, indeed, been making their rounds and converged outside the private bay, though they were now disbanding. He scanned the displays to see if there was any sign of the Outlast, but it was in another part of the port altogether. Leaning back, he watched as the blue sky darkened until it was replaced by the glimmering black of space.

“My name is Borommakot,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Boro-what?” The woman chuckled, giving him an inquisitive look. He sighed.

“Call me, Borom.”

“Right,” she nodded, returning her attention to the viewport, “I’m Aisling.”

“Your ship is quite impressive, Aisling,” Borom commented, looking around the cockpit.



Pangur Ban was my sister’s. She’s been well taken care of.”

“This is a real sister, I take it?” Borom asked dryly. There was a pause in which he realized that it was something he shouldn’t have mentioned.

“Was…a real sister,” Aisling said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Borom murmured, head bowing slightly. Aisling simply shook her head and silence pervaded the ship again for a time.

Presently, she spoke up, “Introductions are all well and good, but you still haven’t given me the name I want.”

“Hm, of course,” Borom nodded, “The name is actually two names, a person, and an organization. The person is Cruach. The organization calls itself “the Court,” he explained, “I haven’t come across any relevant connections myself. Do they mean anything to you?”

Aisling shook her head again, but added, “How did you get Zydow to say more? He never mentioned he had names.”

“I’m curious then, what he told you,” Borom answered casually, gazing through the viewport.

“Don’t think I’m letting you dodge that question…But he told me where the last abduction took place, and said a surviving family member had more information.”

“Well, it’s a good lead, then. Credit to Zydow for being more than a drunken slob.”

“Oh yes, credit,” she agreed, voice laced with sarcasm. But she quickly turned serious again, “Now, why did he talk to you?”

“Actually, he didn’t,” Borom started. Aisling whirled around, beginning to rise from her seat, “The names are real!” he assured her quickly, “I just didn’t get them from Zydow. I picked them up while I was escaping one of the Court’s bases.”

Aisling dropped back into her seat, staring wide eyed at him, “You’ve been inside one of their bases? Then why aren’t we going back there?” She exclaimed.

Borom’s gaze remained fixed on the viewport.

“I’ve already been back there.”

Continued in Part VI
Last Edit: 1 year 1 week ago by Borommakot.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 2 weeks ago #59435

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I enjoyed reading PartV Borom, nicely done. Able to stand his own during an inquisitive stare-down gauging which of the two would weaken and which of the two would yield success on a seemingly identical mission of discovery. A great introduction with Aisling and I believe between her and Bor'om a supportive and reliable bond will be developed. A strategic and dramatic use of the validation as PartV ended with admitting, even by suggestion, with where he had been already. You're trickling events little by little and what this does is engage the Reader more and create an urgency to follow the lines that will imminently follow. Thank you. The anticipation dials a cliff-hanger. Your controlled feeding is executed well.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 2 weeks ago #59455

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Thanks Ovrcahst! I'm glad it came out well.
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Trials of Transformation 1 year 1 week ago #60144

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Apologies for the late entry. We had a ten hour drive to make today, so that delayed things a bit. I'm endeavor in to get a little bit ahead of schedule again so I don't have to worry about that kind of thing in the future. But in the mean time, here's the next section:
Part VI

"It was actually one of the first places I went after leaving the Temple…"
~~~

The HWK-290 dropped out of hyperspace, streaking toward Terical as fast as its sublight engines would carry it. The route was still fresh in his memory; he brought the ship low toward the spaceport, but ignored the hails from the ground controller. Instead he shot right over the port and followed the outskirts of the city to its edge, where he had entered. It looked a little different from the air, but he recognized the place. He even thought he could see the tell tale signs of the spot where he had stashed the speeder bike. Had it really remained hidden after so many days?

Soaring out across the countryside, Borom scanned the horizon for the gap where he would find the valley. It appeared suddenly, an abrupt dip in the earth, and he dropped speed to little more than a hover.

The scene had changed. The blasted wreckage of the freighter was still there, but there were great furrows in the ground, radiating out around the secret landing pad.

At first he thought it was meant to look like the ship had crashed, but that would have resulted in one long tract of plowed earth, not a whole web, like some sort of subterranean…As quickly as he could, he put the HWK down as close as he dared to the edge of the woods where the concealed entrance he had used was supposed to be.

Leaping from the cockpit, he ran into the trees, quickly reaching the rocky wall of the valley.

“No!” He breathed as he reached the spot, slowing to a stop, “No no no!” The rock face had been collapsed, burying the entrance under huge boulders and tons of loose earth. That could be dealt with, but it did not bode well for what was inside. He felt a stirring within his mind, the subdued torrent of emotion pounding against the dam as he was faced with the prospect of failure.

Stepping back, he recentered his concentration and held his hand out toward the mound of rocks and gravel. It stirred, then shifted, and then one of the boulders rolled off the mound, tumbling down with a crash so loud, he didn't hear the crackling activation of an electro staff behind him. He couldn't fail to notice, though, when one end was jabbed into his back, sending energy coursing through him.

“Augh!” He cried out, collapsing, and the mound of rubble became still.

“We expected the Jedi to come, but certainly not one all alone, and I never dared hope they would send us our lost little shaak,” Spoke the voice behind the staff; a familiar one. Muscles still twitching from the shock, Borom rolled over and looked up at Unaud’s grinning face.

“Did you not get enough when you were in our company last? Well, I'm happy to repay you for the augmentations I had to get after you shot me,” Two other figures stepped up to flank Unaud, blaster rifles at the ready, “Kill him, and that’ll be the last of our loose ends.”

Unaud raised the staff high, while his thugs leveled their weapons. Like a flash, the amber blade appeared to spring from inside Borom’s robes, dividing the barrels from the blasters, and diverting the crackling staff tip into the ground beside him. Seizing the moment, Borom rolled out of reach, and got to a knee.

“This couldn't be more different from our last encounter, Unaud,” Borom said, eyes narrowing. As Unaud’s thugs dropped their useless weapons and fumbled to draw pistols, Borom lunged. Unaud brought the staff up, batting away Borom’s downward strike, and following through with a thrust. Borommakot dodged with a spin, free hand going to his robe, and when he came back around to face them, his blaster was in his hand. Between him and the thug he was facing, whose pistol had just come up, Borom fired first.

At such short range, he couldn't miss, and the blast lifted the thug off his feet and sent him rolling down the slope behind him. The other mercenary fired, but Borom’s saber was there to meet the bolt, deflecting it cleanly away. Unaud stepped in, staff spinning.

“Too right you are, boy!” He snarled, attempting an overhead strike of his own. Borom stepped into it, leveling his saber horizontally to block. Though he caught the blow, Unaud locked his blade there with the full leverage of the staff, while Borom could only maintain his block with one hand, “Last time I didn’t have this beauty!” Unaud growled; Borom heard gears whirring somewhere in Unaud’s left arm, and suddenly the pressure from his staff increased, the crackling end mere inches from his head.

Acting quickly, he raised his pistol, trying to get a shot off at Unaud’s midriff, but he was too fast.

“Woah, now, boy. Did you leave your sense of fair play in your cell?” He swung up the lower end of the staff, smacking the blaster not only off target, but out of Borom’s hand. The pressure on Borom’s blade was suddenly relieved as that end of the staff spun away, but the side that had knocked his pistol from his grip continued up as he tried to bring his blade down, and once again his attacked was batted away. Suddenly Unaud’s staff was between Borom’s blade and his body, and with satisfied smirk Unaud snapped it back, striking Borom across the chest.

The electric feedback tossed him away, which was the only thing that saved him; had the staff sat across his chest any longer it almost certainly would have stopped his heart. Even so, his muscles clinched and spasmed as he struggled to get off his back, the front of his tunic smoking slightly. He had managed to hold onto this saber, so he was at least ready when Unaud’s second thug jumped at the opening in the fight to take another blaster shot at him.

Though his physical vision was still swimming, a clear mental image formed in Borom’s mind, and he twisted the hilt at just the right moment. The blaster bolt deflected off it and back into the enforcer’s chest, dropping him with a grunt.

Unaud laughed, and the sound felt like a pry bar in his mind, trying to let loose the flood of rage and other emotion he had buried. Inhaling deeply, Borom closed his eyes where he sat, half risen, on the ground. I’m closer to the Force now than ever, he assured himself, and Unaud can’t undo that. Too much depends on it.

He opened his eyes and got shakily to his feet, and then adopted a defensive stance with his saber, staring down the laughing slaver. Unaud’s mirth slowly faded, and he looked grimly at Borom.

“I’m so glad to be able to finish this personally,” Unaud said quietly, and charged. He swept low at Borom’s legs, but Borom leapt over it, twisting into a flip from which he deflected Unaud’s follow-through strike, and landed behind him. Unaud planted the staff in the ground, blocking Borom’s attempted blow to the back. Borom feinted as though he would twist around and repeat the attack in front, but as Unaud tried to bring the staff down in front of him to block, Borom dipped his saber into a tight thrust. It didn’t land…but suddenly Borom’s blade was between Unaud’s staff and his body.

His eyes widened as Borom flicked the saber up, shearing off his hands behind the wrists, and then going into a spin, which this time he completed, decapitating the slaver with the look of stupefied shock still plastered on his face.

Borom deactivated his saber, barely sparing the corpse another glance. Striding across the grass, he bent and collected his blaster.
~~~

“But they hadn’t taken any chances,” Borom sighed from the co-pilot’s seat, “Whatever ship had brought them was gone, and when I finally moved enough rubble to get to the shaft that led into the base, I found just what I feared; they’d blasted it all. It had been burned and buried.”
Aisling gave long whistle, though her eyes didn’t leave the viewport.

“I didn’t have any leads after that, so I went back to the port on Terical to try asking questions,” Borom shrugged, “It’s been one wild bantha chase after another. Been a couple of leads, more disappearances, over the years, but I could never get to them before the trail went cold until now.”

“Huh,” Aisling finally said, shaking her head, with a dark expression, “Well this one won’t be going cold, mark me. I’ve been trying to track this filth down for a few years myself, and this is the closest I’ve come, too. We’re going to make it work. Hold on, we’re coming out of hyperspace.”

She cut the hyperdrive and the ship popped back into realspace, decelerating over a temperate world with a single, medium sized continent on a murky green expanse of ocean. They descended through the atmosphere toward the coordinates she’d gotten from Zydow, bringing them down across the far western coast of the continent. Eventually, an indistinct shape appeared on the horizon. Borom’s eyes narrowed when he saw what it was.

“Perhaps you spoke too soon,” he said quietly.

Aisling growled and pounded the console with a fist. A plume of smoke rose up to greet them, visible for miles around.
Last Edit: 1 year 18 hours ago by Borommakot.
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