[color=dcb246][center][h3]The End of the Beginning[/h3][/center][/color] Fractions of a second. That was all that mastery over the Force afforded to Master Yen in her final moments aboard their transport ship. Her forehead, usually creased with smiles and laughter, sat smooth. Her eyebrows, normally raised in suspicion of her young apprentice, lay relaxed. Her eyes, glistening with grit and determination, shifted purposely across the room. A calming stillness gripped her, as she allowed the Force to dictate her next move. Around her the world was being torn asunder. Sirens blared as metal sheared but there the Master Jedi sat, like the eye of a storm. Sunao, on the other hand, hated space. To him it was a black sea of nothingness that separated world from world. [i]“It’s 99.99% empty, you know.”[/i] He would tell others, a deep shudder escaping him. [i]“It’s all just so… isolating, right?”[/i] Even in the largest of the Republic's ships the Padawan felt it, and now here they were, their glorified rust bucket shattering in a hail of asteroids. His heart could be seen visibly pounding through his robes, threatening to break from its cage. His eyes, wide with panic, darted furiously around the room as he fumbled around with his seatbelt. Fear enveloped him. Usually concerned with the faffing about of her young apprentice, the Force drew Master Yen’s attention elsewhere. She watched, eagle eyed, as several jagged shards ripped from the wall in front of them, followed by an oversized piece of panel. In one sweeping motion, the woman gracefully lifted her arm, shooing away the fragments as they flew towards Sunao. Contrastingly, the Padawan focus was divided. The Force spewed forth a tornado of colours, all swirling around and oversaturating the young man's vision. By the time he spotted the hefty chunk of metal, it was too late. His arm had barely enough time to leave his side before it connected with the head of Master Yen. Perhaps it was the lack of oxygen as they entered the atmosphere or perhaps it was the agony of the scene unfolding in front of Sunao. Either way in that moment he lost consciousness. A final picture of Master Yennifer Reyes' warm smile would be forever etched into the young Jedi’s mind. [hr] A bright crimson encompassed the room as Sunao woke with a jolt. The sirens had cut but the surrounding room still basked in the red hue of the emergency lighting. Flopped next to him, Yen was in a bad way. Blood flowed from a sizable gash on the side of her head as the rest of her sat lifeless. Frantically, the Padawan clawed at the seat belt release, calling out in vain to his Master. Freeing himself, he dropped to a knee beside the woman, removing her restraints and laying her out on the floor. Her skin was cold, clammy and quickly greying. His ill-fitted sleeves, already shredded in the crash, were torn clean from his person as Sunao did his best to dress the wound. Sweat dripped from his brow as he wound the fabric around Master Yen’s head while his chest tightened. Tying it off, Sunao raised a hand over her body, reaching out into the Force. With bated breath he hoped to call forth the sunshine yellow that normally derived from the very centre of her being. Instead, the world around him greyed. The Padawan shook his head, slamming his eyes shut and straining as he tried to reach further into the Force. Nothing pierced through the blackness of the back of his eyelids, he couldn’t even conjure a single shade in his mind’s eye. Opening back up, he was met with a greying world once more. Knots twisted his stomach as his heart sank like an anchor being dropped at sea. As the man fell back onto his behind, his mind went into overdrive. [i]What is happening? Could Master Yen be dead? Or has something worse happened?[/i] Suddenly a lightbulb sparked in his brain. Fumbling forward, the young apprentice reached out and took his Master by the wrist. A pulse weakly tapped his fingers, she was alive but barely. The Jedi collapsed, falling back once more in a heap of exhaustion. Behind him, the door whooshed open and a long shadow of a man loomed up and over Sunao. A gust of fresh air washed over the cabin, cooling him as it hit the beads of sweat dripping down the back of his neck. Nary a word was exchanged between the two, save for a sharp gasp from the stranger. It was possible the scene spoke for itself, or maybe the Force had told the shadow what they needed to know. Either way it wasn’t long before Sunao felt the rush of the door as it closed shut. There, in the dimming light, a single tear broke the dam, giving way to a river as they flowed down his cheeks. [hr] The Padawan emerged from the crashed ship sometime later, long after the rest of the surviving crew had gone in to remove his Master from their room. His hair was in disarray, loose strands were strewn from side to side while specks of dirt- kicked up from the digging of graves- clung to the wetness of his cheeks. Trudging past the others without so much as a word, Sunao perched himself atop a midsized rock. Crossing his legs, the Mirialan hoped to avoid any small talk by appearing to be in deep meditation. Chatter from the others filled the air as Sunao attempted to push out into the Force once more. Exhaling weakly, the Padawan peered out deep into nature, reaching out for that familiar feeling. The jungle, alive with the most vivid of colours, began to drain. Magenta’s, violets and bone whites of his surroundings slowly wasted away to a lead-like grey. Suddenly light headed, the young man’s frame started to wobble. His breath shortened to quick bursts, just as the tick of his heart began to increase momentum at a serious rate. Were it not for the mention of a nearby village by the Togruta, Sunao may have keeled over. [hr] Whatever was left of the Apprentice’s elegant garments were quickly being torn away by the relentless flora of the jungle. An alarm from his datapad had been quickly dismissed. Were he anywhere else in the galaxy then the reminder to exfoliate his T-Zone would’ve been followed to the letter. Instead, he trudged along behind the crew as they carved a path forward with his master in tow. He hadn’t shared one word with the others and couldn’t even recall their names at this point. Sunao was so far gone, he barely registered the laser blast, only truly coming to his senses when he bumped into the back of one of his compatriots. The two humanoids, one Twi’lek and the other an actual human stood, barrels front, covered from head to toe in a series of tattoos. Oddly enough, despite their tribal-like appearance, the two sported visible cybernetic implants, suggesting there was possibly something more nefarious afoot in their intentions. Speaking a language no-one seemed to recognise, they gestured to the crew to hand over their weapons. [i]“Yen would’ve known their language.”[/i] Sunao thought, easily departing with his lightsaber. [i]“Or at least she would’ve known how to temper the situation.”[/i] He continued, noting the concerned look of his fellow Jedi as they were led out of the dense jungle and into a clearing. Sunao was tempted to reach out into the Force upon entering a substantially sized village. It was late afternoon and the members of the town were beginning to engage in their evening rituals. From smells to sounds, the air was filled with all sorts of delights to celebrate the end of the day. Full of life, the Padawans' curiosity urged him to take in the evocative colours of the world around as it flowed with such excitement. [i]“No.”[/i] He reasoned, glancing behind to the ailing body of his Master. [i]“I have to get something right.”[/i] Finally, stopping by a roaring bonfire near the centre of town, the group was introduced to a well-dressed and untattooed duo. The older, shaggier looking Jedi of their cohort took the lead, skipping out pleasantries to plainly ask for help. The Twi’lek woman clicked a finger for attention and pointed towards the two wounded Masters. Several villagers came out from the woodwork and whisked the stretchers away while Sunao followed closely behind, leaving the others to converse with the two foreign women. [hr] Paying the Mirialan no mind as he stood in the corner, the healers got to work, fawning over the two Jedi in front of them. Orders were barked as helpers scurried in and out of the hut, bringing in a range of herbs, salves and soups. The rest of the survivors entered the hut just as the wounds were being freshly wrapped once more. The two anthropologists, as Sunao came to learn, gestured for them all to leave their compatriots to heal and follow them up to a lookout spot atop a towering tree. Mention of the Republic being camped not too far away filled the Padawan with excitement for the first time since they had hit the planet's surface. His mind ran wild with the thought of proper treatment, rescue and salvation, practically ignoring whatever else was said. Relinquishing command, the unshorn Jedi posed the question to the group of what next. One by one the others spoke up with talk of getting involved in some sort of conflict that had arisen. Sunao, on the other hand, had a different idea. “I’m heading over to Republic’s camp regardless. No doubt they’ll be better equipped to deal with Master Yen’s injuries and they may also have a way off world for us.” The Padawan paused, feeling what appeared to be an aura of awkwardness at his statement. “As a back-up plan of course.”