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The Jedi of Ator Hollos lay sleeping in the Monastery. A bank of cloud passed overhead, racing on cold winds, its mass blotting out of the wine-red Kathol Rift that snaked across the night sky, speckled with stars like flowers blooming on the vine. Hollos' moon—Lor—shone down on its mountains. Dreams played in the Jedi's heads.
But a figure was creeping through a world unseen, placing itself in a spot where it might be heard. It had intended to deliver a message for many months—in some form, even decades—and was pleased that the moment had now come. She carried herself up an incline in the darkness, frustrated at her own slowness. It grew worse, almost too gradually to notice. Long past were the days of agility and nimbleness she once enjoyed, characteristic of her species. Long past were the days when she belonged to any species at all. She knew well her time was drawing to an end. This journey came at the right time. It could be postponed no longer.
The Monastery rose to meet her as she broke from the forest's edge, appearing to her, and her alone. Here, in her sight, its round stone towers shone white, clouded with blue haze, as bright as anything on the planet. This was new—a change reflecting the Jedi whom had taken up residence within its ancient walls.
She shielded her eyes, blinking away the tears welling up at the corners. Not so alone.
She still knew not how her message might be received. They would be fools not to treat her with suspicion. Despite her years of service, she had done many harsh things to protect Ator Hollos, and the galaxy.
But everything now hinged on what would soon come to pass. Everything hinged on the Jedi.
She closed her eyes and stretched out a withered hand towards the walls across the valley.
And to all the Jedi came a dream...
A white figure appeared to them, standing in the darkness beneath the trees. She was closer than they knew. A shining tree stood behind her, and she and the tree shared roots and were one in the Force. The undergrowth was darker than night. Corruption crept in from the ground, but color, light, and life fought against the withering shadows.
The light wavered. The tree's blossoms were few.
The figure spoke. Her voice was like a thing from inside the planet, like peat moss, earthy and damp. The words echoed through the minds of the Jedi; a clear bell sounding from the light of a far off sunrise.
I have been watching you, Jedi, she said.
For you, I have waited centuries.
It is in dreaming that the mind most easily finds it way to communion with the Force. But I am no dream. I come to you by the well-worn trails of the unseen world, my battlefield and my prison. I speak from desperation. There is much you must know, for knowledge is the great weapon of the Jedi. And I need - this planet needs - the Jedi to wield any weapons they possess. Lest it fall. Lest it finally die.
I was once your kind. A Jedi Warrior, scarred by the Mandalorian Wars. My visions began, and the Council would not hear them. Plagued by a foretaste of evil, I came to the Kathol Rift seeking an great darkness, drawn by the siren song of a lost world.
I found that which I sought.
I found a world, this world, ruined by centuries of war. I found a living place brutalized by a darkness. I found an eternal struggle.
That Darkness was once an individual. It is impossible to say what exactly it has become.
Now, even weak, it is powerful beyond imagining. It is an enemy of all life and light, a god of evil imprisoned in ages past. It is author of all suffering on this planet.
It has a name.
Those that know of it call it ABAR QEL. It is the ‘eternal king’, and its horrors stain the pages of thousands of years. It never lacks for servants. It binds them to itself. It offers life, and makes slaves of all who believe its poisoned promises.
That great enemy stirs even now. It is older than the Sith, older than the Jedi. A desperate, hungry presence.
Strong and mysterious is Ator Hollos, deeply connected to the Force, alive in its own way. I heard the planet crying out for a champion, and at once knew I my path. Gifted its power, tethered to its deepest heart, I became the expression of its spirit; the Hanma - the avatar - of Ator Hollos. Hanma is a word from my homeworld. It is a ‘thing that has become itself’. This is what I called myself.
Gifted with cause and glorious strength, I took on the warrior's mantle and wielded power for Hollos and its creatures. I became a representative of Ator Hollos and its will, the image and realization of its spirit in physical form. It is I who direct the storms, who wield lightning and wind to prevent Qel's escape. I who stave off its evil, I who blind its eyes to your Monastery. I who carry out the vengeance of Ator Hollos on all those who do her harm. For centuries have I done this.
But now I grow weak.
My sight is often obscured. The machinations of Abar Qel slip past my watch, it ferries its servants across the unseen world beneath my notice. It has spread its lies to the noble creatures of this world, and they have believed, and their hearts and minds have gone astray. Their deception devastates Ator Hollos. Abar Qel twists the life in the great forests purely by existing, feeding on what lives to feed its own slow death. This is a place infested by ghosts and spirits, scarred by war and darkness. Even the Force itself suffers, corrupted, creating creatures, unbalancing itself, throwing itself further into the spiral, poisoning those who hear its song. All because of that thing, waiting beneath its pool.
As Ator Hollos grows corrupted, so too do I. I have battled for too long, sustained only by the Force. Despite the bonds of sisterhood I share with this world and its creatures, I am still mortal. My time as the Hanma is coming to an end. I cannot carry this fight alone.
Your arrival heralds the return of the old darkness in all its fury, and the last of three wars against its power. The light of Ator Hollos grows dim. But your light - your light is fresh, bright, unstained, uncowed by Qel. These are the prophesied days, the time of the final war. You are to be its champions, fighting for the Force, for all who suffer, for your friend, who suffers even now.
You are the final hope.
Speaking to you now wearies me. I am in desperate need of your help, Jedi. The fate of more than Hollos hangs in the balance. Should darkness triumph, I have seen the cries of thousands of worlds. I have heard the force itself, weeping in the dark. This cannot come to pass. Help me prevent the things I have seen.
Two words of guidance have I now for you.
This is the first: seek my weapons, lost in the Necropolis of Tar Ghass, that place of shame where failed we to smite Qel in the last war.
The second is this: seek the Blinded and learn their wisdom. Do not fear the Holli who watch over them; they have fallen far, but have a part to play as well. Be patient with them in their pain. Their importance will become clear in time. Protect them from Abar Qel; It must not enslave their power, or all will be lost.
Speak to me if you must. Find me in my dwelling place, here in the world beyond stone and flesh.
The dark hour has finally arrived. I am losing strength. You are the last hope for Ator Hollos. I will aid you where I can.
We will meet again, Jedi.
May the Force be ever with you.
And she was gone.
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Darth Bjorn Leader of the New Jedi Order | SWFactions GM