[@Thunder Falcon]

					[img]https://starwarsblog.starwars.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/ROJ1.jpg[/img]


					[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDdPGfvsfyI][u][i][b]The Persistent vagrant[/b][/i][/u].[/url] 




"That one, the limbless cripple" A voice, imperious, yet lyrical echoed through the curtained windows of one of the balconies rising out of the old Presidential palace. Purple eyes that might have belonged to a serpent, peered out to the crowd gathered outside the immense steps leading to the grand doors. People bowed in supplication, others stood in quiet observation, more yet gazed with wavering uncertainty, those interested her the most. The ones who came as skeptics, or as enemies only to throw down their metaphorical arms and begin to listen to the gospels she'd preach. It would have been a lot harder, she thought had The Empire not torn itself apart, hard warlordism and decay not gripped the cosmos and had the resurgent New Republic movement not stood on the metaphorical throat of a core where the social divide split along lines that made her at once a unifying force and a threat of incredible instability. -The elite in the core favor the empire. Not much changed for them, they merely wore new uniforms or had to learn to bribe the loudest humanocentirst fools. The middle class is pro Republic, violently so- She thought, which was dangerous because Coruscant, Alsakan and Chandrilla boasted the largest middle classes in the galaxy. But the poor? The poor were an interest mix, at once reviling the abuses heaped upon them by Corsec and the regular army and yet Imperial public works projects, from ship building to founding new cities. All a grand scheme to keep the masses employed and sated and with the Empire in ruins, the New Republic moving in? People needed something to hold onto, but that lifeline manifested its own dangers and risks. Navigating the energies of a holy war in the making was going to be a task greater than anything she'd ever done before and the festering problems her machinations all those centuries ago exacerbated and created had been simmering to near boiling point for far longer than she'd intended. It was why she had to be selective, more so than she would ordinarily be (and she was above and beyond rigid in her criteria). In the days since the departure of Highsinger, the Apprentice and the Mule she watched as the crowds gathered, she watched as force sensitives new to their talen. Stumbling like infants walked up to her hallowed steps and begged, pushed against the soldiers only to be thrust back.

Most were discouraged within the first hour.

She didn't need them, that Miralukan amateur Jerec could have them.

Some endured hours, to a day.

The abomination on Yavin could have those weaklings.


"It's her second day mistress" The Twi'lik slave, one of the two of them anyway, she couldn't remember which not that she cared too. slaves were for utility, not for speaking or recognition. The bold few who did manage to become more than they were, she might decide to honor with acknowledgement, maybe. "shall I have the army throw her out?" "No" the serpent said, her awareness reaching out through the masses of agitants and wrapping around the crippled supplicant, ribbons of awareness enmeshing the Miralukans being in the force. Serpentine perceptiveness delved into the borders of her psyche, dancing on the edge but stopping out right from a mind probe. She was powerful, her inner forge could handle enormous amounts of the force. Purple eyes flickered, glowing in the morning sun, remaining obscured the snake turned holy warrior took the full measure of the cripples potential and walked away, leaving the window and the gentle brush against her awareness only to grab a com device and order a storm. "Let us see, if she is more than she appears, or if she is just another cripple ambling about the Galaxy wasting oxygen by existing" Arkanians had sympathy for those disabled in battle or in the glorious pursuit of research but for those born defective? Better they had never been born at all, her two and a half centuries of life spent in war had taught her the value of not underestimating even the most base and defective. Still, for the accident of her birth, this one would have to do more than be powerful in the force.

And so, Pontifex Invictus Miryia of house Janus ordered a severe rainstorm, which lasted well into the night.

On the third day, Invictus Janus observed from the balcony openly, gazing down with cold, assessing eyes brimming with certitude at the one with no arms. She endured the rain, refusing to budge from her position at the foot of her stairs. So, the miter adorned Arkanian cobra ordered the storm to become harsher, for winds and lightning to rise. By nightfall on the third day, the Serpent returned to the balcony, defying the rain as it fell around her, she regarded the Miralukan with the same cold, confident eyes.  Eyes that judged her, eyes that in a lesser being might have said that it didn't matter what you were inside, only what you were on the outside. And a worthless cripple she would always be. But beyond the judgment, these eyes said something else "prove me wrong. [i]Show me[/i] how wrong I am". That night, nine souls stood beside the limbless one in the rain, called by her dedication and her perseverance, motivated by curiosity, driven by a desire to see what the blind woman saw. Perhaps they too hoped they would be chosen or arrive to whatever sublime epiphany they mistakenly believed the female was chasing. Of the nine four departed before the dawn and another three before breakfast, winds howled on the fourth day and the two who remained were joined by twenty, who refused to budge and endured.

Some possessed force potential, they would be chosen as well but for a different duty. They were not yet ready for training, but Miryia Farlina of House Janus had seen enough. In the morning of the fifth day the Coruscanti weather control offices were contacted and ordered to disperse the storm. The great Doors opened and flanked by members of the five hundred and first the Jedi turned prelate descended the steps towards the girl and her circle of adherents. Adorned in armor, her purple cloak flowing in the wind which began to scatter the storm, her bone white hair weaving in the billowing purple fabric, she came with her lightsaber as well, adorned as if greeting the dawn before a battle.


Sher locked eyes with the woman's blindfolded empty sockets. a hand reached down and threaded its index and middle finger through soaking wet hair. "You" she spoke, her voice lyrical yet commanding. "there is no greater enemy than our own limitations, they are cruel, unrelenting, punishing barriers that when broken leave one as confused as they were before dejected. You understand this" There was no room for doubt in that voice and she made the assessment as if she were stating a fact so obvious and widely accepted that it was redundant to even state it. "you broke your barriers, congratulations Miralukan, you are more than a crippled freak and with your newfound freedom comes blindness"

She let the woman's hair go brushing her fingertips along Shomas' cheek before turning her way up the stairs only to pause. "Would you like to see again?" A slow smile crept across the woman's features, a reward she gave few and the offer even fewer still. "I can show you how...Apprentice"


The others moved to ascend the stairs, a subtle inclination of her head and the forced roared about her and the others were hurled back. "Not you, you will start below with the servants, if you wish to be more than a mere beast of the field next time do not follow, lead as this child has" The woman turned and began her ascent as the crowds cheered the new apprentice. "Come, Shoma Jidith. The last time you bent your knees you were an exploited, discarded freak. [i]Rise a woman[/i] and follow me inside"


Destiny was not meant for the weak.

The glorious future was not meant for broken things...Save for those who found the strength to forge themselves anew.