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Still looking for the face I had before the world was made (Duel of the Fates)


BenduKundalini

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Character: Kenobewan, level 55 Jedi Guardian ; Lord Scourge ; Satele Shan ; The Exile ; Revan ; Jolee Bindo ; Anakin Skywalker ; ??? :jawa_angel:

Setting: Coruscant, player's apartment

Spoilers: JK Act 3 finale, companion spoilers for Doc & Scourge, and the Taral V/Maelstrom FPs

 

Fate is an accumulation of watersheds where certain split seconds matter more than entire centuries, their outcomes possibly shaping millenia to come.

 

This is more of a philosophical/atmospheric essay than a story, awash in the Old Republic's universe, where two roads meet (actually, many more than two).

A place to connect the dots - with in-depth canon stuff*

An exploration of the Force.

An exploration of how it all neatly intertwines - Revan, the events of Knights of the Old Republic I and II - with the story of the Jedi Knight in SWTOR, and... beyond...

 

True to Chris Avellone's** insights that the Star Wars universe is riddled with ECHOES... ;) and where echoes are riddles...

 

*canon according to KOTOR/SWTOR at least

**writer/lead designer of Knights of the Old Republic II

 

I've paid a lot of attention to dialogues in-game and made lots of research on Wookiepedia so apart from one aspect of my character's lineage, the rest is an in-depth immersion into the backbone of the history of the Old Republic.

Here we follow a deep meditation of the Jedi Knight after he has completed chapter three, and he has a vision of impending doom that sends him flying out his his sleep into a lightsaber somersault that is the stuff of dreams - and there are MAD connections in the Force, across the oceans of time. The destiny of the Ebon Hawk contains something that connects with it all.

 

:sy_galaxy:

 

The title is borrowed from a U2 song called Mofo... which was used for a documentary series called... hah... Why are you creative !

 

Thank you. :)

Edited by BenduKundalini
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Chapter One

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waking up to the sound of your own lightsaber igniting, its deep swoosh cutting through the air as the world turns upside down in a flash as you spin... even for a Jedi Master, that was something new.

 

Eyes and all six senses wide open in the dark, Kenobewan stood in perfect Shien deflection stance next to his bed, his bare skin illuminated head to toe by his humming silver blade. The vibrating purr filled every angle of the room, somehow making the silence even thicker.

 

The overwhelming sense of danger that had sent master Kenobewan leaping in mid-air was at once gone and only starting to slowly fade away. What had been clear and present danger but two seconds ago in terms of objective time, was now evanescent, and its clarity... missing, gliding out of reach although somehow still very, truly real. It was as if the sense and the awareness of this danger of mind-boggling proportions were absolutely real, but had moved away from him at an impossible speed the moment he was no longer asleep, like something jumping into hyperspace in the blink of an eye.

 

Two seconds ago. Yet it seemed like it was centuries away already. It took all the insightful might of a true master to retrieve crystal-clear episodes, feelings and impressions from his own mind, a mind that was already as a heavy book that had just been closed and was being shelved. Unity of mind and body: not one, not two they are.

 

Sun djem, soresu shelter, sarlaac sweep, makashi riposte - they were all possibles in the immediate future. A split second into the future, but the future nonetheless. Fate is an accumulation of watersheds where certain split seconds matter more than entire centuries, their outcomes possibly shaping millenia to come.

 

An array of follow-throughs was thus readily available - borne from the guarding stance his unconscious mind had propelled him unto from his sleeping position. His superconscious mind, rather. Over half a century of Jedi training and actual combat - fighting stances, attacks, parries, counterattacks, and velocities, that had slowly but unerringly become a second nature. And all like playing a formidable game of dejarik, anticipating the other player's reactions several moves in advance with all their possible ramifications - all at a velocity unfathomable to a non Force-user (except for the best - and worst - pilots and bounty hunters in the galaxy). A game of dejarik played at lightspeed - and one where the least of your problems is that you risk life and limb at every split second. For all too often someone else's life depends on your winning the "dejarik session". A child. A family. A group of refugees. A village. A whole planet. All too often, numbers so huge that numbers mean little - even if Doc eventually comes up figuring out you have saved several septillion lives in your lifetime. He who saves one life saves the world. But what of he who lets one die? All too often, Fate depends on you. Why?

Who are you?

 

Wildly alert and mindful of something not present, Kenobewan let out a sigh of relief and listened to the beloved sound of his lightsaber being turned off. The sound of violence shelved. The sound of peace. That is, unless it is immediately followed by the clank of your weapon hitting the ground after some sithspit vanquished you.

 

There was nothing. Nothing around. Yet, he was shaken. A man who was never shaken.

And the Force was trying to say something to him. Perhaps his eternal soul already knew, but his mind had a long way to go to barely uncover whatever a human brain could make of a mystery at the very core of the universe.

 

 

Edited by BenduKundalini
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Chapter Two

 

 

With a gentle hand gesture he opened the sliding door to the balcony with the force. Reaching for his ivory sleeping robes, he stepped outside in the fresh air. Round, lush with all manners of plants collected through travels, the wide balcony rested on the top floor of one of the buildings facing the Senate's esplanade, a place where the skies were wide. Also, a place not far from his ship, in case of an emergency. Strangely, there was something about Coruscant. The ecumenopolis had engulfed every single patch of natural terrain on the planet and even most of its oceans. An abomination in the Force, and the old Jedi Temple had sat there and would one day be rebuilt there only because the city planet was the central nervous system of the whole galaxy. What was uncanny about Coruscant was that living in its towers, literally walking in the sky, meant that a Jedi could still commune with one aspect of nature's lifeforce in all its glory. What the planet lacked in earth, grass and seas, it made for in sheer sky awesomeness. There was so much sky! So beautiful! Every evening there were a million setting suns reflected in a forest of mile-high mirrors, dwarfing the magic of Tatooine if only for a moment.

It was a great place to meditate.

Still, this probably called for something else. Tython. Perhaps Dantooine, even?

 

Guttural syllables spoken by his son's Trandoshan sidekick, a certain Qyzen Fess, had come to mind. Simple, yet carrying profound truth.

"Is cold place. Both full and empty."

 

Many stories down, the neverending and unmistakable swoosh of Coruscanti airspeeders graced the quiet atmosphere like mechanical cicadas. Every now and then one would dash by as the night was giving in to the first hints of a new day, and the starlit skies were morphing into a dark red canvas over the city-planet's skyline. Soon their buzz would swell as the first skyscrapers shone gilded orange back into the skies...

 

Kenobewan let the beauty of the rising sun flow through him, he felt the currents of stellar energy rise in the Force and land on him, traverse him. Every dawn, every sunset, every lake, every moutain, every starlit sky, every constellation he would gaze upon - with love, intensity, and gratitude. If a man ever radiated unlimited personal confidence, that was him. He knew what he could do. He knew what he had done. He had accomplished what not even Revan could do - he had rid the universe of the Emperor. And in doing so had saved every living thing in the galaxy. Yet he also knew how swiftly life could go. Fate hits hard. War hits hard. Juggernauts hit hard. Vorantikas hit hard. One day - any day - he too would die. Unlike most sentients, he did not view death as a cancellation of life - there was no end, only life after life.

He had felt it always. He was nonetheless astonished when this was confirmed to him in person by the Force Ghosts of his last master, Orgus, and by the ancient Jedi Exile on Taral V.

Still, he was grateful for being alive.

 

He admired hues of orange and gold turning pink on the shapes on the horizon. The mile-high mirror riddled sky was in turn reflected in his irises. The expression of his bright blue eyes, crowned by the noblest of brows, shed a majesty that was striking, even for a Jedi. He was a Jedi's Jedi. Grand Master Satele Shan herself was... different when she was next to her favorite, her formidable champion of the Light Side. She had written to him how she could never imagine the Order without him, how she had come to rely on him... and had stopped short of admitting to herself how she could not live without him, one sentiment she could not afford. Perhaps now the Emperor was dead she could finally stop witholding. Perhaps their fates would intertwine? Ah, their fates.

 

As in getting to be born, they already had common roots. Deep, powerful roots. They both had ancestors whose fates were tied, and whose life or death depended on each other. These ancestors had been on the same boat - a small vessel called the Ebon Hawk, which had barely escaped Taris before Darth Malak vitrified it to kill but one person. And from this tiny seed of hope miraculously released by Taris just as she was dying, heroes had emerged that would prevent any other planet from suffering the same fate as her. One of them, Bastila Shan, was the one person the infernal fallen jedi Darth Malak sought to kill by reducing a whole civilization to rubble. Ironically, she had escaped the cataclysm. At her side was the very man who would end Malak's life... his former master, Revan - twice savior of the republic, and its executioner in between. One of the most greatest Jedi ever, one of the most dangerous Sith too. He too had ravaged a planet - Malachor V, home of the Mandalorians, and in doing so had ended their ancient warrior civilization, scattering its survivors, henceforth reduced to a life of bounty hunting throughout the galaxy. But such an insane cost to win the war to prevent the Republic from being snuffed out out existence had strained his soul and the souls of all his Jedi followers to a point of no return. En masse, they inexorably were consumed by the dark side. All of them. All but one - who had severed her connection to the force. Meetra Surik, the Jedi Exile. She who one day would rebuild the Jedi order, and rekindle the bonds of the galaxy with the Force - turning the very same little ship, the Ebon Hawk, into a makeshift Jedi academy. She who would exit life and become like a dream, while the existence of Kenobewan was but a dream waiting to happen. Their fates tied and mirrored in one split second - the second the Knight was foreseen. Some split seconds matter more than entire centuries.

Aboard that ship, as if Fate had tossed a chance cube blue and red in the middle of a sandstorm, Revan and Bastila fell in love, and ultimately it was her loving faith in him that redeemed him. Revan the Revanchist, Darth Revan the Butcher, Revan the Prodigal Jedi. The only fallen jedi to come back to the light side... with a vengeance. Grand Master Satele Shan was the descendant of not one but both these legendary heroes. In their quest for ancient Rakata Star Maps, Satele's ancestors had stumbled upon a one-of-a-kind father figure ; a so-called "grey jedi" whose unexpected take on love and the Force and the space between them may very well have convinced them the Force actually had nothing against them falling in love... perhaps, perhaps quite the contrary. His name was Jolee Bindo. He had never mentioned having a son, or a daughter. Perhaps he did not know himself. Kenobewan on the other hand knew he descended from funny, grumpy, cantankerous Old Man Bindo. And he had inherited three things from him: his chocolate skin, his journals... and a bit of a maverick mindset. Unlike his ancestor, however, Kenobewan had never grown distrustful of the light side altogether - far from it. Like his forefather, it was the shortcomings of the Order he was well-aware of. He trusted in the Force. And he found it within. He radiated some kind of light, even animals could perceive his beaming aura. Finding sense and solace in the wisdom shared by others was never a problem. He owed them much. He was just free to pick certain elements and let go of others - listening to his inner voice always.

 

Is that why the Wrath of the Emperor had had a vision of this face, two and a half centuries before he was even born? Fierce blue eyes under a brown hood and above a grey-white beard, his skin oaken ; unwavering, lordly, deeply rooted in serenity yet conveying tremendous force. And a glint of intelligence in the eye, including the other intelligence - that stubborn compassion of the Jedi. In his vision, Lord Scourge could feel wave after wave of invisible light radiating from this hooded figure, a sort of shimmering, as if a trail of luminous particles were flowing out of this figure, ascending into the ethers of the Force. In his vision, the figure seemed ten-foot tall, and the immense Wrath had to look upwards to meet his eye.

 

~~~~~~~

 

 

 

Edited by BenduKundalini
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Chapter Three

 

 

Eyes closed, Kenobewan was hovering a few inches over the ground of the balcony in lotus position, beaming. The sun was rising and he was mindful of its warmth progressing on the skin of his face, forearms and legs and torso where his old padawan robe left it bare. He was aware of the fluid of Life penetrating his lungs and his every cell and then receding, like the eternal tide. He was aware of the strands of hair quivering on his face because of the mile-high winds, just like the ponytail between his wide shoulder blades. He was aware of the scents of the plant haven surrounding him on the balcony, speaking of streams on Tython, of glittering mountain slopes on Alderaan, of gilded forests on Voss... Fragrances which prompted many episodes of his life to flash. He was aware of the plants around him being aware of him and beautifully nourishing the Force and feeding on it at once. Especially the luminescent buds and the medicinal fungus. He was aware of life around him, life breathing in and out, in a growing perimeter, like circles expanding on the still waters of his mind. He was aware that someone in another building was looking at him levitate, in gasping amazement, from behind a window. He was more and more aware of the patterns of the airspeeders swooshing by fifteen stories below him. He was even starting to feel the life essence of commuters, entering and leaving the sphere of his trance at the speed of blaster fire. Their emotions, their matters, their pains, their joys. Their indifference to deeper forms of existence. Moments later, he was once more tasting the expanded awareness that several layers underneath, underneath what was keeping their attention busy or entertained, there was one same universal yearning for meaningfulness and love, that sometimes expressed itself in the wildest, craziest dumbest or even deadliest of ways. He was not reading their minds ; he could not have done it if he tried nor would he have wished to. He was reading their hearts. Or rather, communing with them. Finding likeness in them. Surfing on echoes of Being, of being a live creature, a sentient live creature, a sentient live bipedal creature on Coruscant at dawn, carrying on with its life. Commuters, communers. Much did they have in common. They were echoes of one another. Like countless waves in one same ocean.

 

 

Slowly he shifted this heightened awareness of the world, focusing on the world Within.

 

 

The inner voice was his own voice. Only more majestic. Deeper. Calmer. Softer. Serene. Unwavering. It had accents of his old Master's voice. It had accents of his father, of his mother, of his late wife. It had accents of his Jedi son. It had accents of his padawan, Kira. It had accents of great masters from holocrons he had immersed himself into. It had accents of the journals of Old Man Bindo, complete with holorecordings of jokes and ramblings hiding secret gems. It had accents of great insights he had adopted from great books and great songs and holoplays. It had accents of the youngest of padawans sometimes asking the ultimate question, sometimes giving the most earnest answer. It had accents of himself as a young man, as an adolescent, as a child in time.

 

Kenobewan's inner voice had strong accents of the Jedi Exile that had guided him on Taral V and into the Maelstrom Prison. The one who as a Force Ghost had kept a protective mantle of hope around Revan, relentlessly inspiring him for three centuries. The one who was betrayed and stabbed in the back by none other than the gigantic pureblood Sith that had taken his quarters in the cargo of Kenobewan's ship. Betrayed and murdered at the last moment because Lord Scourge, Wrath of the Emperor, had had a vision of Kenobewan felling the Emperor, being the sole being across the universe and across the eons of time destined to achieve what not even Revan could do. In throwing her blade to deflect the Emperor's blade, instead of piercing his heart, as he was about to give Revan the coup de grâce, she had sealed her fate, Revan's, and Scourge's. All was lost. But at this moment Scourge foresaw a thousand possible futures and suddenly had a vision of... Kenobewan. He knew he had to buy time by killing her off and pretending to have lured her and Revan into a trap. He had to buy time, but didn't know he would have to wait in deceit for three hundred years.

A split second of fate. Because the Exile had chosen to save Revan instead of killing the emperor at the expense of her friend's life, the Empire would thrive and one day reconquer Korriban and destroy the Jedi Temple.

 

Because Kenobewan was going to be born someday, the Jedi Exile had died.

 

The pureblood's booming voice, as it had revealed the vision to Kenobewan, was to reverberate forever in the Jedi's heart of hearts. Beyond all the despicable and obvious comments typical of Sith foolosophy, some of the words Scourge uttered were invaluable. Even he would add his accent to the Jedi Master's inner voice. Even though that same inner voice was busy fending off most of the pollution coming from that very particular Sith, as wisdom always came bundled with corruption with this one.

 

In revealing to Kenobewan he had existed long before being born, Lord Scourge had presented him with a tremendous gift. The highest revelation ever made - and demonstrated - to a living being.

That he exists outside of Time.

That the magnitude of the Force and its mysteries will always extend infinitely far beyond the knowledge, intuition and comprehension of any living being.

That perhaps the Force has antibodies and there's your name on it.

 

The Exile. Lord Scourge. Revan. The Emperor. Bastila Shan. Satele. Jolee Bindo. And him, Kenobewan. All their destinies intertwined, closely knit in the fabric of reality. The Force attracting the Force like a supreme magnet.

 

Clairvoyance was starting to flow.

 

"Flames! Coruscant would once more be in flames if..."

 

He paused. His heart raced.

He breathed. Deep. Long.

 

"No... Not just Coruscant. Every single person I love, every single person I know, everyone, everyone, every creature, every plant, every insect under every rock on every single planet.. all dead. All murdered. All annihilated forever into absolute oblivion. Cosmic totalicide..."

 

"..if my purpose had not been organic. Seminal. My nature... yes, a nature, more than a purpose. Thank the Force. Thank the force. Thank the Force.

Like others, I could never have resisted the godlike powers of the Emperor, tearing my mind and my heart of hearts apart, shred after shred, twisting my every concept... dismantling everything that I am... if the Force had not..."

 

"If the Force, besides being a mantle for me, had not...

Deeper roots? In me?"

 

Different magnitude

Mile-deep roots

Mile-high tree

Like the father of all trees

Pillar of Destiny

Secondary source

Into the within

 

"The Emperor wanted to cancel all life in the galaxy.

And a being came to be that fell him. A man. Me. Kenobewan.

Was I the response of the galaxy's living essence to this unnatural threat of annihilation?

What was I??? Where was I before the grandparents of my grandparents were even born?"

 

 

"Force!! I shout out to you! Did you create me?"

 

 

~~~~~~~

 

 

Edited by BenduKundalini
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Chapter Four

 

 

 

 

Eyes wide open. Deep breath.

 

He gazed at rose, red and golden hues, magnificent, everywhere .

The sun was setting behind the chrome skyline.

His trance had taken him all the way to the dusk.

 

The feelings had been searched.

The feelings had been found.

 

He re-experienced the moment he woke, instantly leaping out of bed in an overhead slash so perfect you could only dream it. He had cast the beige sheets aside in a wide beautiful gesture with his left arm so his legs would be unhindered, while his right hand called for his lightsaber. And he had stood there in combat stance for an infinite five seconds, naked, ready to take on a whole unidentified army of blasters, red sabers, fangs, whatnot, before turning off his silvery weapon, returning the room to darkness upon realizing he was alone.

 

Overwhelming danger, of galactic proportions.

 

There was a dream within the dream.

He had dreamt of a jedi suddenly waking from a dream in an appartment in a tower just like his, in coruscanti twilight, just like him. But this jedi was tormented by a terrible nightmare, and woke up yelling, soaked in sweat.

 

He was hypnotized by the skies over Coruscant, a symphony of red and rose hues, that was magnificent and unbelievably painful at the same time, as if saying goodbye to the blue skies forever.

As if the twilight of dawn had caved in, unnaturaly followed by the same beautiful hues but already yielding to darkness. Daybreak giving in to nightfall. Nightfall, the word reverberated. Nightfall, nightfall... knightfall.

 

And then it was as if he had... walked into the sky itself. At once beholding clouds of white and skies of blue in the distant horizon, and swirling, billowing reds that were inexorably swelling.

And in between them he was skywalking.

 

The universe was in flames. As if reality itself had become a red pit crackling with rage.

 

And then a Jedi's lightsaber - deep blue - sprung into existence, a beacon of hope held high against the blood red sky.

And then... that paragon of hope started to fill everything in sight with dread. Like a titanic pendulum, it was swinging towards him, bloodthirsty, with a lust to end all life. One fell swoop, one extremely brutal juyo swoop possessed with the intent of hurting him, ravaging his flesh, depriving him from his life.

And then Kenobewan's own lightsaber had sprung in defense - also blue. Blade upon blade. Blue upon blue - upon red. They formed a cross of light against hell.

 

His parrying leap had started in a dream and the momentum had translated into reality - a dream move.

 

 

In his dream Kenobewan had heard himself yell "YOU WERE THE CHOSEN ONE! I LOVED YOU!"

After waking up, he did not remember.

 

 

~~~~~~~

 

Edited by BenduKundalini
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EPILOGUE

 

 

Had anyone ever uttered those exact words to him during the remainder of his lifetime, he would have remembered something.

 

His soul knew.

 

Family names derive from locations, occupations or castes. And over time, they change slowly. Little did Kenobewan know he had inherited something else from the shrewd Jedi Bindo. A lineage going back three hundred and a half... centuries. All the way back to... the Je'daii Bendu monks. Discoverers of the Force.

 

Hidden in the Force was a forty-thousand year old family tree, a pillar growing strong, growing new branches, merging with other roots with each new life they bore.

 

 

The Kenobe essence was in motion.

 

A starchild in time...

 

Force roots slowly burrowing through quadrillions and quadrillions of cascading events in the Supreme Interaction of all Living beings.

 

A Battle of two Trees of Life - Pillars of Eternity.

 

 

Korah Matah, Korah Rahtahmah

Under the tongue root a fight most dread, and another raging, behind, in the head

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Right.

 

Everything in its own time...

 

As I pointed out in my summary, this is more of an essay into the Force before anything.

Also, it's a historian's work of connecting the dots between various sources and characters in the time of the Old Republic.

 

Sort of a "unifying perspective", but narrated with literary ambition, instead of as a crude wookiepedia article.

 

On top of it, lastly, comes creative/poetic license, with my knight being related to someone in the past and someone in the future (thus establishing that these two figures are directly related).

 

Who is Kenobewan? Right now, he is a meditator, and that's all that matters for the time being (but I hear you! Something is missing).

He is not One with the Force but nevertheless he communes with it and with other beings around him, even plant life.

 

It all came so neatly together I was struck. Even befitting for the verses I quote in the end...

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  • 6 months later...

I've always been interested in the travels the mind is capable of taking, when left on it's own devices...like when you're going for a walk, or relaxing...when you don't have to think about anything except where it takes you, and sometimes that journey can be surprising.

 

This is the feeling I get from Kenobewan when he undertook his meditation under Coruscant's skies. It was deeply spiritual, while remaining factual about the histories you're entwining in the Jedi's connection with the force (this is helpful to someone like me, who doesn't know all of the back stories and lore). You really succeeded in showing his connection and how even one man can make a difference for generations.

 

I also appreciated the occasional injections of humor, like 'juggernauts hit hard, verontikus hit hard etc.' It was surprising, when most of the tone is serious. I like that.

 

I also thought it was clever, when you suggested what an abomination Coruscant is...because of it's lack of anything natural, like trees, lakes etc, and that the Jedi would make it home to their temple. Coruscant isn't the first planet you'd think of as a home to the Jedi, because of their connection to the natural world. Tython, makes a lot more sense.

 

You also have an extensive vocabulary, I learned a new word from you today in fact...ecumenopolis. It's not one I've come across before, and it was very apt in it's description of the planet-city.

 

The only thing I would suggest, is to break up your paragraphs into more bite size pieces, just to make it a bit easier on the eyes for the reader.

 

It looks like a promising saga, and I look forward to seeing where it ends up as it collides with the future. Some dialogue with Obi Wan Kenobi would be amazing. Keep on writing!

Edited by Lunafox
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Bite size pieces I like that lol! Will do, and thank you for reading and reviewing!

 

While I plan to write about the adventures of Kenobewan (with an e), just another one so far, Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow, this was a standalone piece.

 

I think I already pushed the Force to its limits by establishing a mirror in time, a vision of something happening, one million sunsets later (roughly 365 x 1000 x 3-ish = 3 thousand years). And so the "million sunsets reflected" is much more than a visual thing by the way heh heh.

 

Maybe, just maybe, Obi Wan on the other side of time could experience something similar. But then again it would be in twilight, in the twilight zone between actuality and the stuff of dreams, "proto-reality". And I stick to the idea that even for the greatest Jedi masters, this is way beyond anything they could ever fathom. Its is too deep in the mysteries of the Force. In the roots and phantom future fruits of the "giant tree"...

So the Force has reached them, linked both sides one million sunsets away - but ever so faintly - and only in the deepest of layers of their consciousness.

 

Hmm... I just had an idea... so... there might be a Continuation after all!

 

I initially had only fancied my char to be a descendant of Jolee Bindo, one of Revan's companions in the first game Kotor. Then the prospect of getting an apartment of Coruscant happened, and I pictured it overlooking the Senate and close to the spaceport (bingo!). Though I found there were many flaws in Ep III, the scene where Anakin is tormented by nightmares really struck a chord. What a powerful, haunting scene.

 

And then I realized the Knight had averted something far worse than the advent of Palpatine's empire or the rise of Vader. And how he had not really had the time to let that sink in. Cosmic totalicide - (I made that one up) - the murder of EVERYTHING. Definitive negation of life.

 

So I pictured the torment of his soul suddenly taking it in - in a setting that would serendipitously perfectly match Anakin's torment. And in doing so, a portal in time, and in essences, was born. And I started unraveling. Did a lot of research. Mad connections available! The game does not make it clear what the links are between Lord Scourge and the Ghost of the Jedi Exile. Not at the moment though - they will probably go deeper into it with the Revan expansion.

So the Knight quest lets us know Scourge recognized the Knight after having had a vision of him 3 centuries earlier, and waiting for him to "happen" in order to prevent the cosmic totalicide by Emperor Vitiate.

 

But we're not told how the Exile dies, essentially, because our character was in the tubes.

In other words the first (?) Force Ghost happens because there is an unborn ghost of a Jedi out there. Staggering!!!

 

Picturing the ramifications of a family tree over thousands of years, a family tree at the heart of the Force, sort of a chicken-and-egg conundrum, slowly started to fascinate me and was dizzing.

 

Then the Duel of Fates kicked in. Fate that would have been in the tubes for at least 3000 years. By the way in Greek, Ananké was the embodiment of inescapable fate. With some research I found the lyrics of that quintessential song/sequence were a translation, in the ancient tongue Sanskrit, of an ancient Celtic poem. Called... the Battle of Trees. It is what I quote in the end.

 

I was astounded at how neatly it came together. I mean the concept, of course. Though I am very proud of certain parts I know there's ample room for improvement in the exercise of giving shape to all that and delivering a finished product.

 

Oh, about the ecumenopolis, it's a word I learned thanks to Wookipedia, Coruscant entry. You taught me a word of two by the way, like "dapping" (I'm French).

 

 

Thank you for your interest, and for giving me the occasion to go over the topic once more - and scrape some new ideas!

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Glad to help. :) I'm glad you were able to find a new spark to keep going with your story. My apologies about misspelling Kenobewan's name. It was late when I was reviewing. I edited my post to reflect the change.

 

So, keep going! I find the work only gets better as you keep writing. :)

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