A New Hope Begins
Jakku, not Tattooine though
That’s all you really need

Manually added by Warden Celevon Edraven Erinos

Dancing beams of sun
Raining from the sky each day
Shadow leaves for night

The sound of a waterfall glistened in the ears of Sariel, the raging water cascading over rocks and providing a cooling mist. The human’s muscles ached from his morning exercises, his daily ritual of practicing kata and weapons forms always doing the trick to awaken his mind with a tempest of thoughts and feelings. He sat in a lotus position, the coolness of the moss covered rock he sat upon providing him a small degree of comfort from his sweat covered clothing.
He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as his mind wandered through the rapid fire of images and memories. He allowed each one to play out, embracing both the positivity and negativity that came from each. The music made by the natural beauty that surrounded Sariel allowed him to further grasp these experiences, working through the emotions that came from them and scrubbing their hold on his conscious thought away. It would not be long, however, until the memory that refused to leave would surface and Sariel could feel the anxiety in his chest swell at the fear of experiencing it once more.
In his mind, he saw the orange hue of flames in the darkness. He smelled the soot and ash of his monastery burning, the scent of charred flesh stinging his nostrils as he heard the crying and screams of those he was meant to protect. He felt the ache of his failure as he witnessed his Grand Master struck down by a man in black, the ringing of the vile beast’s cackle stinging the human. His home laid waste, his brethren butchered and slain, and the feeling of hopelessness attacked his heart and mind in a horrid offensive.
His eyes burst open as the image of the beast entered his view. A monster in the guise of a man, blood stained skin coupled with a horrible visage of a face roared in his mind. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he closed his eyes once more, refusing to fail again at his mental exercise. He focused harder, trying his best to control the memory in his mind as if it were a lucid dream. In his memory, he saw himself look down at his hands and see the weapon that he could not find that day. It was a long ebony staff, the special carvings and carefully wrapped linen seeming to smile as he held the trusted friend in his hand. He forced himself to approach the beast, destroying the memory in his mind and creating a new experience. He was younger then, when fear and anger still held him back from action. He could not change yesterday, but he could make it so that the tragedy of his past no longer held sway over his future.
“Oh, another notch for my belt.” said the Umbaran, his hand holding a black leather sash that was mangled and mutilated by tally marks.
Sariel ignored his taunt, instead gathering his inner strength and energy in preparation for the battle. A crimson blade came from the beast, his cackling renewed with vigor at the sight of his weapon. The human gave no reaction, staying his position and readying himself for the Umbaran to strike. Like a creature uncaged, the black clad warrior lunged at Sariel with his saber in a downward strike. Sariel rolled forward, past his opponent, and placed three strikes against his enemy. One blow landed behind the knee, forcing his opponent to stagger, the other two strikes landing on one side of his body and the other side of his head. The Sith howled, immediately turning around and striking wildly. A thrust burst forth, another lunge, another downward strike. Excitement roared in Sariel’s mind, the path his new memory was forging far better than any previous attempt. Sariel counterattacked, his quarterstaff sending a flurry of strikes in various spots. Like a whirlwind, Sariel came down upon his enemy and made multiple strikes against him. Each hit, however, only caused laughter to come from his enemy. It unnerved the human just enough to provide a window for the beast.
As Sariel attempted another strike, the Umbaran used his darkness to summon a telekinetic thrust against the human which sent him spiraling backward. His hands released his quarterstaff and sent it flying. When he landed, his head hit the rubble of a building that sent shockwaves of pain throughout the Odanite’s body, dazing him just long enough for his opponent to stand above him and smile. It was then that Sariel saw the true face of the creature, a beast with no lips, nose, or ears staring at him with murderous glee.
“Not this time, boy.” said the beast, readying his saber to plunge it into Sariel’s heart. As it came down, darkness covered the memory in the man’s mind which forced his eyes to open and bring him back to the present. Once more, the human failed to banish the last bastion of memory that harbored the emotions he worked so hard to suppress. The beast lived by a code of death, destruction, and chaos, and Sariel knew that only through life, meditation, and serenity could he hope to change the hold the creature had on him.

The shuttle hummed as the Nihilgenia departed, a perimeter immediately set up before the stone structure dubbed the Temple. Dust kicked up from the hovering vessel, revealing ancient stone paths that met with the staircase leading to heavy stone doors. Tall obelisks sat on either side, a purple and green flame burning at their peak. When the soldier ascended and approached the doors they could see an intricate carving of a craft forgotten by civilized society. Red marble and golden figures adorned the decoration, depicting an act of savage sacrifice. With a hiss and loud groan, the doors opened and revealed the denizens of the Temple. The eyes of the Nihilgenia, covered by helmets, widened in unison as they saw the eyes of their foe.

Rotted and cloudy, vacant dead eyes stared at the black clad troopers as the beings shuffled towards them. Jaws hanging agape, the creatures known as Guardians shuffled slowly forward, their feet scraping against the stone ground. Instincts driving them, the Nihilgenia fired into the crowd before them. The sound of blaster fire evoked a guttural moan from the crowd, who switched from a slow shuffle into a frenzied charge. The prior lackadaisical group became a swarm of vengeance and hatred as it descended on the group, dulled nails and flattened teeth gnashing against their armored opponents. With every shot of a blaster, the Guardians seemed to grow only more determined to gorge on the flesh of their enemies.

Darkness cloaked the Tarenti as they approached the Temple, hearing the cacophony of blasters that banished the sweet silence of the night. When they arrived, their eyes beared witness to the brutal efficiency of the Temple and of times long past. Without words, the Tarenti circled behind the swarm and began cutting their way into the horde. The feeling of flesh splitting open as their blades pierced through the decayed flesh itched its way up each of the Tarenti’s arm, sadistic smiles covering their faces.

Among them was a single Gungan, covered in oxidized blood and dripping with satisfaction. He wielded a pair of daggers, the sound of bone breaking as their blades pierced through the skulls of his enemies causing the Gungan to smile wickedly. He may have followed the Gray path, but inside Kah Manet slept a darkness more cold than any the Keepers could spawn. As soon as one of the Guardians was dealt with, he would move to another. When one fell before him, he would relinquish his blade from it’s corpse and throw it into another. His tongue shot out with deadly speed and wrapped around the handle, yanking it from its position as the muscle retracted into his mouth; the dagger falling gently into his hand ready to strike again.

Old friend, tried and true
With a blade as dark and deep
Of an ocean's wave blue

A strange feeling waits
Like a long lost friend returned
The Force surrounds you

The white, cold snow quietly fell on the corpse, broken ribs and cooking organs embracing the dark night sky. Children, rabid with hungry, giggled as they enjoyed their meal.