Maanan

[Tiana, eh?]

A peaceful-- gray-- world, with an existance only to peace. It's covered in water and glistening white skies, and the local race is the Selkat. Follow their rules and remain peaceful, and you'll be all right.

Sort of a "safe planet".

[Caffeinerush]

Here is a link for more info on the Selkath&their history

[Dûncariel is Dead.]

"Keep her safe."

He cradled his sleeping daughter in his arms, her tiny head resting heavily on his shoulder, breathing heavy and calm with sleep. One of her tiny hands was wrapped tightly around his fingers, soft and warm, a fetter stronger than any fashioned by man, keeping him manacled to her as surely as a chain. He could feel her heart beating against his chest. It was so beautiful, that tiny movement of life. She was so beautiful; so perfect. All he had.

He could feel his own heartbeat quicken as he cradled her. The world was not a safe place for one such as her, for her unbridled innocence. If he could keep her this way forever, he knew he would. He knew that this planet was the safest haven he could find for her, that here no harm would befall her, but it was no easier to hand her over to the waiting Selkat and leave her behind. But he knew they were her best bet, she would be safer on Maanan than anywhere with him.

His dark eyes softened as he watched her sleep. That was why he had to leave her. As much as he loved her and wanted to protect her with his own hand, he knew she was safer nearly anywhere away from him. Chevrast Ki'h Morannin was a maker of enemies, and his daughter was his weakness. Strike at the daughter, wound the father. Maybe he was overly paranoid. But paranoia was better than the pain he would live with should she be hurt.

The Jedi cut an imposing figure, even with the small form of his daughter clutched tightly to his chest. He was tall and built well; his face was all planes and angles, with a longish nose, and a strong jaw. His eyes were the color of the night sky without a moon, and as cold, framed by black lashes. Those eyes flashes with blue lightning in anger, but seemed softer and sad as he looked down on his child. He wasn't very old, 23 years in all, but in his eyes was the light that says they have seen it all. He was clothed all in black, with dark hair. On each side of his face, beginning within his hairline were two tattoos, a longer and a shorter to each side, black stipes akin to those of a tiger. An imposing figure, to be sure.

He finally detached his daughter from his shoulder and passed her to the Selkat with a nod, turning and hurrying out of the floating shanty-town, leaving behind him his blood, and his heart.

[Dûncariel is Dead.]

He sat in the co.ckpit of the small fighter with his head in his hands. The ship sat in a small open space on one of the floating shanty-towns in the waters of Maanan. Space was a few simple maneuvers away, and yet he couldn't force himself to take off. His shoulders rose and fell as he breathed in and out, attempting to calm himself enough to reason his way out of his stupor. He felt the breath flow through him as only the Jedi can: with those breaths he felt his muscles relax, but the ache in his chest remained, and would.

He understood fully that law of the Jedi. For a man or woman to perform his or her duty, his or her mind had to be clear of all else. Love was a distraction a Jedi could not afford.

Love could very easily lead to the Dark side. It seemed so cliche to him, so plain. Love, the distinct opposite of hate and anger, the giving up of one's self for someone else, because you value them higher than your very life. Such feelings were dangerous. He ran his fingers through his shaggy dark hair, causing it to stick straight out in every direction. He had loved a woman once, and that love had brough him to this point, if inadvertently. she was dead, but a bit of her lived on in Levana, whose blue eyes haunted his dreams and burned holes in his soul. She was what he lived for, and what he knew would someday die for.

With a flick he powered up the fighter's engines, and with a deep breath he was gone, his ship disappearing into the bright sky above the waters of Maanan.

((I am now taking my insignifigant little plot into Space... yay me.))

[Tempest]

Xyko landed the Spyre in a hangar on Ahto City, and persuaded the Selkath owner that she could use it, free of charge. She came back aboard for Shayla.
"Come on, he's waiting, I sent him a message that we were on our way."

[Padawan goober-shadowslayer]

''Bring me Chevrast''
Orgon's master was a tall, dark overlord. And he was not merciful. Natili was known as the'' dark of the darkness.'' ''Yes master'' Organ replied. Organ was a very tall figure. He had a long scar that slashed across his mouth. He was dressed in a black robe. He was not a sith and yet he was not a bounty hunter. Natili was the leader of a secret clan. The iron fist clan. They were very hidden and they were very brutal. Organ was a very skilled fighter. He was armed with a long varieties of guns and other battling equipment. He jumped into his tie fighter, locked his control destination, and flew off into the bitter nothingness. He was looking at a hologram filling him in on his missions input. He was to destroy Chevrast a jedi warrior. ''Chevrast is very skilled in the arts of defense. You will need to use the elements of surprise'' a f1-20 droid informed him. '' Surprise, e. consider this mission terminated.'' Orgon said in a groggely voice.

[Tiana, eh?]

((Post temporarily nulled until you post a character sheet, please...))

[Padawan goober-shadowslayer]

You accepted it rincewind. here goes.


Orgon slowly was making his way to maanan. He was getting closer.

He landed on a platform. He was disguised as a doctor and was heading for the closest inn. He spotted a inn and went inside. He said to the manager, who was a chiss '' I am a doctor requesting a room in your inn.'' ''sure, that will be 100 credits, room 52'' the manager said.

He walked up to his room, walked in, and stepped into the refresher.

[Sallowpad]

*Arriving from Space*

Jinx's crevice grew tighter as the freighter approached Maanan, as a womb preparing to evict it's tenant. His mental umbilical connection to the ship's network fed him a visual feed of the black of space swiftly giving way to the breathtaking blue skies of Maanan, and witnessed the great sapphire oceans and the tiny continents which for which she was famed.

The freighter touched down on a shanty floating spaceport just off the coast of the eastern continent, and the greasy bureaucrat began scurrying around; filing paperwork, cleaning up the mess that was his gear and folding it into neat piles, filing paperwork, attempting to reglue a lever he'd broken off during the flight, and filing paperwork. Jinx clubbed him in the back of the head, and switched uniforms with him. Naturally, the pants were too big, while the jacket and hat were a fair deal too small.

Despite the misfit uniform, Maanan did not fail to catch Jinx's breath as the freighter's gangplank slit open and allowed blue light to flood in. A well dressed Selkath stood squarely at the base and awaited him, to whom he handed over a set of papers scrounged from the bureaucrat's grimy pockets, which the Selkath kept in exchange for a stack of tourism advertisements and directions to the local ship dealership. Jinx disposed of the former, and followed the latter.

A few hours later Jinx found himself significantly richer, and in search of some less conspicuous attire.

[Padawan goober-shadowslayer]

Today was a day for Orgon to relax and gather his thoughts. Tomorrow was the day that he will do work... He was on the holonet searching for information about manaan, when he heard a sound coming from the cooling vent... somebody was trying to sneak in... he gathered his fighting supplies, waited, and waited...