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Jabis Ravenhawk’s Knight Fiction


Unknown Regions
Coordinates 117b:25.2.8-Aurek
CR90 Pride of Owyhyee

Solar winds buffeted the cold durasteel of the carrier’s hull, a cascade of radiation and space debris that brushed harmlessly off of its energy shields. The swirling gases of a nebula bathed its gleaming exterior in soft hues of violet and magenta, limning the de facto home of House Hoth with a soft, ethereal light. It was a visage shared by all the ships of the Flotilla, all that remained of the Jedi Clan of Odan-Urr.

Haunting, beautiful, space had etched a masterpiece from a handful of ships and gases. It swept by the viewport of Jabis Ravenhawk’s quarters silently; he didn’t look up to see it.Instead, he stared down at the hilt of his lightsaber as it rested in his calloused palm. It was cold, now; he knew that soon, it would be warm once more. Soon, the fight would continue.

Standing, Ravenhawk clipped the weapon to his belt absent-mindedly. He ran a hand through his fiery red hair, once tidily combed and now an unkempt mess. His beard had suffered in much the same way, growing wild as his missions increased in frequency. Ravenhawk had often been aloof from the Clan, away on missions for his Summit and the Sentinel Network. When he’d come home, it was to a world on fire, a world betrayed by the Dark Jedi Brotherhood. In less than twelve hours, he’d gone from wayward son to refugee of a burning world.Twelve hours from that, he’d been rescuing captives and hijacking starfighters.

The days and weeks after New Tython burned had set to flame the ideas of peace and quiet that most of the Jedi had settled into. Jabis had always been restless on that world; he’d been a student of the Jedi largely during the Dark Crusade, and had acted as a guerrilla soldier. Afterward, he’d fought different foes when the battle came to call again, but could never sit still in peacetime. He’d always had to wander, to roam the stars until it was time to go home, to take new lessons from his Master.

Now, his Master was gone, lost in the fighting. Now… A chime at his door drew his attention. “Padawan Ravenhawk, the Council has summoned you.” A soft mechanical voice cooed through the communications system in his quarters. He nodded, standing and brushing his unkempt hair back with his hand, quickly sweeping down the lines of his slept-in attire. Robes of elegant cut, Royal purple in color, they had once looked almost regal; they now held the weather stains of a soldier. His boots clicked as he strode through the corridors of Hoth’s carrier, and he subconsciously stood straighter as the doors to the Summit’s tactical salon slid open.

Twelve chairs formed a circle there; in two at the fore sat Edgar Drachen, Aedile of House Hoth and a strange uniformed woman with brown hair and blonde bangs. The rest held holograms the Summit of Shan and the Council Proper, the Clan Summit and permanent Councillors. It wasn’t safe to group together into one ship; if they were discovered this way, they could scatter, keeping the flame of hope alive. Four barren seats remained, in memoriam. Empty for the fallen, for Solari and the others who hadn’t made it offworld. One for his missing Master, who he refused to acknowledge as gone.

“Padawan Ravenhawk,” The Consul, A’lora Kituri, said as she rose. There in person, the violet-skinned Togruta was clad as if she were a tribal being on a primitive world, yet carried herself with an air of authority befitting a King. “You have served with distinction for many years as a Jedi of our Clan, and acquitted yourself well upon New Tython. Kneel.” His eyebrow quirked, drawing tight the scar on his eye; cautiously, he took the knee, uncertain.

Kituri moved with smooth grace, taking up the long hilt of her telescopic lightsaber. Its emerald blade shrieked to verdant life, hovering over each of his shoulders for but a moment as she spoke. “By the Council, by our Order, and by the Will of the Force, you have proven yourself through Trials far worse than most. Rise, a Jedi Knight of Odan-Urr.” She withdrew her weapon, stepping back and watching him. He stayed on one knee for a moment; she spoke again, tentatively. “Do you have anything you wish to say?”

“I do,” He said, rising slowly. A flame burned behind his eyes, and in his spirit. “What’s my next mission?”

Written by Liam TorunUrr