A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[Master/Student] The Will of the Force


A Master/Student RO for:

Turel Sorenn


and others by invitation only.

Setting: Corellia and Kiast

Dock 168
Coronet City, Corellia
34 ABY

Turel closed his eyes and let the sensations of the spaceport wash over him: the sights, the sounds and the musty smells. Opening his eyes again, he resumed walking toward his destination in the terminal, blending into the crowd with practiced ease. In a galaxy that seemed engulfed by chaos, returning to Coronet City always felt like going home to him. This was no leisure trip, the Proconsul was on a mission.

Odan-Urr needed some military-grade ship parts for its fleet. These parts were understandably hard to acquire in light of the concordance ban on military hardware. Hard to believe the ban was still in force after the destruction of Hosnian Prime, but bureaucracies were slow to react. In any case, the only way the Clan could get the parts was purchasing from friendly vendors through shady intermediaries.

I hate smugglers, Turel thought as he mentally reviewed the mission details one last time. Using smugglers hired by a third party was like playing Corellian roulette. Some were reliable, many tried to shake down the recipient for more creds for their troubles, all were undeservedly arrogant. The sooner he complete this transaction and was on his way to Kiast the better. He just had to make his way from one end of the terminal to the other and await his contact.

As the Sentinel proceeded down the corridor which connected the various docking bays he pushed his consciousness out through the Force, searching for anything unusual. It wouldn’t be the first time a routine supply mission had been disrupted by Inquisitorial party crashers and it paid to be cautious. Something caught his attention as he passed by Dock 168, a ripple in the Force. It was faint, but unmistakable as the presence of another Force user. Curiously it didn’t have the signature cold feel to it of the Dark Side.

Turel ducked off to the side away from prying ears and keyed up the earpiece to his commlink. “Echo Three, this is Raven Six, I think I’m going to be a little late to our meeting.”

A familiar and excited female voice replied, “What is it? Inquisitors again?”

“Not sure, I’m going to investigate.”

The female voice took on a judgmental tone. “You’d better not be flirting with bar wenches again! So help me I will tranq dart you and finish this mission myself!”

Turel chuckled for a second. Echo Three, or Socorro as Turel knew her, was a cybernetically enhanced commando who served as the Proconsul’s bodyguard when not on missions with the rest of her squad. The two had developed a close friendship and she often served as overwatch for him on his Sentinel Network missions. She also had tremendous respect for General Vorsa, Turel’s wife and fellow councilor and as such did not approve of his tendancy to flirt even if it was harmless.

“I believe they like to be called servers,” Turel retorted. “Besides, if I can make a hard working girl feel good about herself and get a discount on drinks at the same time it’s a win-win.” Socorro grunted into the commlink and Turel continued. “No, I sense something. Keep overwatch on our rendezvous site and let me know if you see anything.”

“Okay Raven Six, but you’d better behave yourself.”

“You know me. Plus, you can go to the market district with me to help pick out something nice for the General. I know a great jewelry store on thirteenth.”

Nothing came over the comm in reply but Turel knew Socorro squee’d audibly whereever she was. For a trained assassin the girl was a hopeless romantic.

Turel crept into the docking back and hid behind some crates. The source of the ripple in the Force was very close. A few moments later the sound of voices heralded the arrival of three Weequay and a Human down the ramp of the 720 Freighter docked in the bay. The Human male had copper-tanned skin, buzzed hair and a respectable amount of stubble on his stern face. Something about the man caught the Sentinel’s attention and he strained to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Look, the Captain isn’t here right now so why don’t you scram and try to run your game somewhere else?” The Human was visibly irritated.

One of the Weequay blocked the Human’s path and began to poke him in the chest. “That’s a lovely ship you have there. It would be a shame if something were to…happen to it. A little protection is a small investment.”

Undaunted the Human batted the Weequay’s hand away. “I said we’re not interested. Now get lost!”

One of the thugs behind the Human attempted to sucker punch him, but ended up missing. The short-haired male ducked under the blow and responded with an elbow to the midsection. Turel was impressed, there was no way that guy could see the blow coming and yet he reacted anyway. Those were Jedi reflexes. Whomever this space jockey was, the Force was with him.

The remaining thugs overpowered the Human and held him in place by both arms while their comrade recovered.

“Did you see dat boss? He hit me!”

“I did… Seems this humie needs a lesson in respect. Eye for an eye!”

Turel jumped out from behind the crate and straightened his jacket. “Excuse me gentlemen.”

The Weequay who had been on the ground seconds ago was winding up to punch the Human in the stomach while his comrades held him in place. He was not pleased with the newcomer. “Mind your own business if you know what’s best for you.”

The Sentinel continued to calmly approach the unfolding altercation. “What’s best for me? How about you take your ameuter protection racket to a playground where it belongs and let the adults do their thing.”

The free thug turned around and started to draw a blaster pistol. Before he could level the weapon, Turel extended his right arm forward with almost superhuman speed and launched a dart from the concealed launcher under his sleeve. The dart found its mark in the Weequay’s neck. He let out a yelp and reached up with his free hand to try to remove the dart. The thug fired off a wild blaster shot as his arm went limp and he collapsed to the ground.

Turel calmly charged the dart launcher, readying it for another shot. The other two thugs had their hands full with a now struggling Human trying to take advantage of the situation and break free. The Sentinel flashed a cocksure grin. He reached through the Force to touch the mind of the supposed ringleader. “Now, your friend here has tuckered himself out and is taking a wittle nap.” He spoke the next words slowly, pushing hard through the Force. “You are going to take your friend here and go home. This isn’t worth it.”

The ringleader Weequay shook his head as if waking up from a daydream. “Get Zax, we’re leaving. This isn’t worth it.”

The third thug glanced at Turel, then at his boss, very confused. Finally he complied. They released the Human and drug their comrade out of the docking bay.

When they had left the Human looked at Turel. He had seen something similar in a holovid, it was almost like this intervening stranger had used a Jedi mind trick on that thug. There was no other explanation for what he just witnessed.

“Thanks for assist.”

Turel extended a palm to shake the other man’s hand. “Don’t mention it. My name is Turel by the way.”

“Xolarin…um, how did you get them to leave like that? I thought for sure there’d be a fight.”

The Sentinel smiled. “Come have a drink with me and I’ll tell you all about it. Tell me, what do you know about the Force?”


Dock 168
Coronet City, Corellia
34 ABY

A drink? Xolarin thought. This could be a Jedi and he wanted to buy him a drink. There was an air of comfort in the offer though, as if a mind trick had been played on Xolarin. Of course it hadn’t.

“Um,” he was still stammering. “One second.” Xolarin picked up his commlink and spoke into it. “Close hatch, secure all holdings, clearance Xolarin X-Eighty-Eight.” It would be noticed across the way that the bay ramp and door on the Bantha, his cargo ship, closed and locked. There was no astromech droid on board, but they did have a quite a unique security system in place. They had learned their lessons many times over the years. In fact, it was something Xolarin himself helped install and one of the reasons he was now second in command.

Xolarin then jogged over to catch up to Turel, already heading on his way. “Funny you mention the Force. I’ve been reading up on it a bit lately.” They winded down the main terminal and into an open market area, with many eateries and shopkeeps about the rotunda. He looked over to Turel, who seemed to know his way around.

“I know a place,” came the sure voice of the man who saved him. The two walked over towards one of the less-than-shiny stalls. They were more than stalls, although once you got tables and chairs and patrons they felt as cramped as a small stall. Xolarin did not look so sure as they approached, although he had been in worse places. “Trust me.”

Xolarin nodded as they went in. He decided it wise to avoid picking up their conversation just yet, given the wide-open nature of the place. A few tables in the pub would do better for the subject at hand. He noticed Turel approach a female in the bar, holding back himself a bit. After mere seconds the woman giggled and nodded, heading back behind the bar while Turel came back to Xolarin.

“Over here?” asked Xolarin, pointing to a corner booth, heading there himself. They both sat and Xolarin nodded. He would normally have waited and let the other person speak. It was better to listen first and then speak, especially when you wanted to make a deal. It was better to listen and give great pauses of silence, in fact. But this was different. The very mention of The Force harkened back to the search for his father, part of the reason he was back on Corellia. The intervention of this man, Turel, could very well be the portents or destiny discussed on the holonet in his research.

“You know,” he spoke in a hushed tone. “I have reason to believe my father was a Jedi.” He leaned back in his seat, peering out around the room to see if anyone was looking. “Or at least trained. He was involved though, that much I now know.”

“What makes you so sure?” Asked Turel, giving an inquisitive look with squinted eyes at the man. He would have rubbed his stubble but Xolarin was already doing so, and that would have looked quite strange.

“I’ve tracked much over the years,” answered Xolarin. “Holo clips, shipping ledgers, old news bits from the New Republic, black market log entries from the empire. A decade of research lead me to…”

Xolarin quieted down as the female waitress approached with a couple drinks and a small carafe. He reached in to get a credit chip but the woman waved a hand at Xolarin, still smiling at Turel. “Your friend here’s got me allll taken care of.”


“A lovely creature like yourself should be taken care of.” Turel delivered the cheesy reply with the utmost sincerity and much to Xolarin’s surprise the waitress ate it up, color rushing to her cheeks before she excused herself.

Is he some kind of con artist? Xol pondered as his companion watched the server depart with a grin on his face. Turel certainly seemed more worldly than what Xolarin imagined a Jedi to be. Charlatan or not, this man knew at least something about the Force and that was worth investigating.

Turel’s focus returned to Xol. “I’m sorry, where were we? Oh, fathers, right. My father was um, not a nice man, let’s leave it at that. I believe my sister and I got our Force sensitivity from our mother’s side of the family, though I don’t know much of our history.”

Force sensitive! Maybe this Turel guy stumbled across a holocron or something.

The Proconsul paused for a moment, studying Xolarin both physically and through the Force. He had clearly lit up at the mention of Force sensitivity. His quest was about more than family history. “You did all this research because you believe your father was a Jedi. Were you ever able to feel the Force yourself?”

Xol was taken aback. He had never been asked that question before, nor had he ever felt confident of the answer. He had a nagging suspicion that he might be, which was part of his quest to find out about his father.

“I…I don’t know. What does the Force feel like?”

Turel visibly relaxed and took a swig of his drink. “Oh boy, that’s a big one. If you ask any Jedi that question you’ll get different answers. It’s really hard to put into words. To some it’s like flowing water, to others a shifting fog which obscures the future, and to a dark side user it’s a fire in the blood. To me, it’s like swimming in a calm lake and every living thing creates ripples and flows you can feel.” He tapped his lip for a moment in thought. “I guess the answer is, it depends. Have you ever felt something you couldn’t explain?“


Xolarin looked on as Turel described the Force and asked more questions. He was beginning to put a few pieces of his own puzzle together, although not certain whether he was right or not.

“I don’t know, really,” he said in response. “I have read up on what I could find of the Jedi and the Force, although nothing too deep. I am no slicer, and I did not want any unfavorables looking for me. So my research has not gone too deep in that area.”

Xolarin realized he was dodging the question. “But to your point, no, I’m not sure I have. But I will say one thing,” he said, leaning in and taking the cup in hand. “The more I dig on my father, the closer I get to the truth. Or what I perceive as the truth.”

Turel looked at his new companion and cocked his head. “Perception can be many things to many people. The Force can make that even more complicated.”

Xolarin nodded. Ok, facts… Maybe the man wanted facts.

“Ok fine.” Xolarin decided to come clean, as there was one point nagging him now that this encounter was unfolding. “About a month ago, I pieced together that my father was on a freighter that also happened to transport some Jedi during the great purge, I believe it was called?”

Turel nodded, looking deep into Xolarin and this increasingly-interesting tale.

“And while it could have been coincidence, and I do have other hints from the last ten years, something told me it was more than coincidence,” Xolarin swallowed a sip and paused, looking pointedly up at Turel again. “And something - not a log or a holoclip or an artifact - told me to go back to Corellia, where I was born. I have gotten hunches like this over the years, but this one was strong, now that I look back.”

“And that’s why you’re hear.” Turel had gathered that much, as the tendrils of the Force, or the calm lake as he described it, had told him this was no coincidence.

“Yes,” replied Xolarin plainly. It had taken him a while to find the right charter job to get to Corellia, but they did and the Bantha was now here.

“Tell me, Xolarin,” said the Jedi in a professorial manner. “Do you believe in fate?” He smiled and looked down to grab his drink to take another swig.

Xolarin furled his brow. He didn’t know exactly how to answer that question - he had always lived in the here and now and rarely put much emphasis on where he was meant to be or what he was meant to do. He sipped again and set his glass down, leaning back in the booth with a grin. "If you are talking about destiny, then I am starting to wonder if I should believe.