Engines of Heaven: Beasts

Posted on Sun Apr 10th, 2022 @ 11:10am by Thane & Bomoor Thort
Edited on on Wed Jun 8th, 2022 @ 2:03pm

4,123 words; about a 21 minute read

Chapter: Additional Stories
Location: Marathon, Yutani System, High Promise Sector, Mid Rim
Timeline: After "Heathens Among Us"

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This post takes place in 1,213 ABY, around four years before Thane and Bomoor encountered the Cult of Axion on Nar Shaddaa, during their earliest years as Jedi Knights.

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" Do not be made a fool by the beasts who mimic the voices of those who walk in Her glow. For they hold no more light than the beasts of the field and those that crawl on their bellies. Beware as they may present themselves as your kin, but to accept them is to forever walk in the shadow of her Glare. But be not quick to dismiss the beast, for those that offer themselves in service to Her cause may be a lesser kin. These Rimkin may not partake in the Holy sacraments but may dwell on your lands for as long as they do Her work. Lo, the beast shall remain a beast and it is Her will that Her chosen shall have dominion over all their kind now and for the rest of time."

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OLD

"Hyperbolic and meandering," he criticised to his Ithorian friend, even as he noticed the Human-heavy crowd, despite the comments from the store-owner earlier. "It just sounds like anti-Republic rhetoric. Fear-mongering." His eyes washed over the attentive followers. "But they're lapping it up."

“I have yet to see anything all that convincing yet,” Bomoor murmured, “I mean, the Republic is not perfect, but what could possibly convince these people…”

He trailed off and his eyes widened as he spotted what was being wheeled out from behind the supposed-priest; a battered and pale Rodian man in tattered spacer clothes, tied to a sack truck. The crowd began to jeer and boo as he came into sight.

“Here, my brothers and sisters!” the preacher continued, “See the false man and the bringer of lies. One must only look at him to know he is not worthy of Her great Glare. Yet the Renunciate Republic would call him kin and place him as our equal. It is this blasphemous fallacy that has kept us from reaching our true potential all these years. Kept us in the dust and the dirt with this beast and his brethren. Well, I say: no more!”

NEW

The crowd's voices grew louder and some took it upon themselves to begin pelting the defenceless Rodian with stones from the unpaved ground.

The preacher did not seem to mind the assault as he declared, "This creature could have been an asset to Her great plan, much as the nerfs we herd and the crops we grow. Instead, he uses his stolen tongue to beguile us with his ways of the Void. His fate will be that of the sickly beast or the tainted seed: he is to be eradicated to stop his filth from spreading."

"They mean to execute him!" Bomoor spoke with some alarm, "We can't let..."

He lowered his tone as some of the crowd started to turn, speaking carefully to Thane, "We have a duty to protect him."

Thane, increasingly horrified at the scene developing before them, nodded quickly to his friend, and they both began pushing their way forwards through the throng of people, who were growing more and more animated with each passing moment. More threats and calls for the Rodian's death were rising from the hostile crowd, and a few poorly-aimed stones began to fall into the group, hitting some of them as well.

Around the periphery, the crimson-clad guards did nothing to intercede, appearing more interested in watching the alarming display, which was obviously quite natural to them at this stage. No-one even seemed to have the decency to look even mildly startled at what was happening, and even children were present, adding their own taunts to the dark chorus of the Marathoni denizens.

Almost inaudible above the din of the riled-up crowd, the preacher continued to cite obscure and damning passages from the so-called holy texts of their twisted faith, and Thane and Bomoor found themselves struggling more and more to get through - especially as a few more began to find themselves noticing Bomoor's alien nature more. Before long, a few of them began hurling insults at him, too, and blocking his passage.

"This is becoming impossible!" Thane seethed, his temper rising enough for him to physically push a man hard to get him out of the way, although another quickly took up the position, jeering all the while.

He and Bomoor could just about see one another, and even the Rodian captive in the other direction. Another rock flew through the air and impacted the prisoner, prompting a trickle of deep-green blood to seep from the head wound, and a cry of pain in a very distinctive Rodian tone followed.

“Kriff!” Bomoor exclaimed, allowing his frustration with the situation to bubble up, “He’s going to be stoned to death by these savages.”

Another rock was hurled, striking the side of the Rodian’s jaw. More and more members of the crowd were taking up rocks and stones from the ground and the two Jedi were still stuck at the back of the crowd.

“I’ve had quite enough of this; this clearly crosses the line and we will have to act,” the Ithorian narrowed his eyes and reached out deflecting several projectiles away from the man with the Force, leading them to strike harmlessly at the chapel wall behind him.

There was some obvious confusion from those who had thrown the stones, but they did not delay long before arming themselves once again to attack the poor man. Indeed, with their efforts being frustrated and become more incensed at their inability to cause any true and immediate harm to their victim, the intensity and frequency of the rock-hurling increased, as more and larger rocks found their way hurtling towards the Rodian.

The two Jedi continued to try pressing forwards, whilst also diverting as many rocks with the Force as they could, although more of the bystanders were beginning to grow agitated with the large Ithorian - another alien in their midst - becoming so physical with them. Before long, obscenities were also being thrown towards Bomoor, and it was not much after that that grasping hands began reaching for his bulk, seeking to drag him backwards and away from the other alien they clearly recognised he was seeking to protect.

"Bomoor!" Thane called, recognising his friend was becoming the subject of ire for a number of them, his attention quickly being diverted towards the consular, even though this allowed more projectiles to make their way towards the Rodian captor. "Bomoor!" He called again, now actively becoming physical in dragging the riotous group away from the Ithorian, imbuing his muscles with the strength of the Force, although for each man or woman he pulled back, another one or two seemed to take their place, the calamity becoming louder and louder with each passing second.

Bomoor could be seen becoming more agitated by the grasping hands laying themselves upon him, He was attempting to remove as many as possible, while remaining calm, but there was only so much he could do without potentially doing someone harm with his great size.

He pushed forwards towards the front, calling out to the Glarist priest in a plea of reason, “Please call off the crowd, we do not want any violence!”

But, as he spoke, the unexpected weight upon him caused him to stumble and he was brought down by the force of the crowd, leading to several cheers of success from those who had been holding him. He fell out of Thane’s view, who could see only a heaving mass of people growing atop where Bomoor had been.

At the sight of his friend being consumed by the crowd, a sudden and real panic began to course through Thane, being a feeling both unfamiliar yet reminiscent at once. He and Bomoor had faced danger countless times throughout the years, just as they had been caught in large groups or faced presumably insurmountable odds. His own calls to Bomoor were now also drowned out by the shouting and stampeding of the hostile brigade, who were had begun punching and kicking at him, as violently as they ever had at Bomoor or the Rodian they sought to save.

As more blows landed on him, and his own thoughts became inaudible to him against the din, the young man's thoughts were suddenly drawn to a dark crevice in an ancient keep, hidden young eyes reflecting the bright crimson and white beams of energy that cleaved at one another in the near-distance. Thane remembered the fear and the panic that came with it, that came from that sense of dread and helplessness as one of his earliest friends were felled, as he remained separated and did nothing.

The feeling began to overwhelm him, feeling physically unable to move under the weight of his attackers, just as his fear had immobilised him as a child. The sensation grew worse; he forgot the pain of the blunt attacks upon him, but he could not move past the panic or claustrophobia that was consuming him - or the fear that Bomoor's life was being stripped from him with every passing second. His friend was going to die and he felt powerless to save him. The panic continued to grow. His restraint was withering and his mind was racing, struggling to remain whole in the face of this adversity.

And then, finally, it broke.

With a sudden and powerful roar, with great waves of the Force projecting in all directions from his beaten form, Thane threw himself upwards and extended his arms, his hands outstretched. Their attackers were flung away from them with an almighty rush of energy. The stonework of the ground cracked outwards from where Thane stood, as dozens of bodies crashed into and over one another, their footing lost and their assault halted.

Panting from the exertion and the mild panic still running rampant through him and the Force, Thane summoned his lightsaber to his hand and ignited its violet blade. Those that had not been caught in the blast were watching their enemy warily, some with more than a modicum of shock, and the sudden appearance of a Jedi's weapon caused a number of them to flinch or recoil.

None now dared to currently continue their assault on him, the Rodian or Bomoor, as Thane stepped towards the Ithorian. The Jedi Guardian had no time nor energy to consider his actions or the great swelling of powerful energy that was still pumping through him, as he instead adopted a defensive Niman posture. Whilst there was a great sense of direction within him to go onto the offensive and control this crowd through his superior power, at least some part of him still recognised their vulnerable position on Yutani - their now-exposed and vulnerable position.

"Can you fight?" He asked of Bomoor, as he now sighted a number of the crowd looking more confident, glances being made to the nearby priest and Glarist warriors, who were decidedly less concerned at this newly-revealed Jedi threat in their midst.

With a stifled cough that expelled filthy dust from both sides of his throat, Bomoor got himself to his feet, “I think so,” he panted, “I’m sorry I let them surprise me like that. I lost my focus.”

He ignited his viridian blade and swept it across him as he swept his gaze across the crowd, now forming a ring around them. Thane could see that he had several small tears in his thick Ithorian skin from the heavy trampling, but he was likely dulling any pain through the Force, which came very naturally to the consular Jedi. Back to back, the pair prepared to mount a firm defence.

“It would appear that false prophets walk among us,” the voice of the priest rang out across the street, causing all parties to turn in his direction, “Two so-called Jedi of the Republic have come to oppress our ways with their witchcraft. See how even the brutish hammerhead can wield the trickster’s power. But fear not, such flickers vanish in the pure essence of Her great Glare so let us show our Goddess that we will not be misled and string these foolish wizards up her all to see. Come, one and all, and see how these defenders of the Republic are mere charlatans.”

An audible grunt emanated from the Ithorian, which Thane knew was Bomoor’s attempt to suppress his anger at the very directed and hateful xenophobia being preached. It was hardly the first time the 'hammerhead' remarks were thrown his way, but it was harder to stomach the sickening way this man of religion was twisting such hatred to a supposedly righteous cause.

“So, is this a new record for getting into trouble?” Bomoor chuckled dryly, with a bit of strain still in his windpipes, “I still don’t think I’ve washed off all the mud from Aloxor and here we are getting trampled by fanatical Mid-Rimmers.”

Despite the upbeat manner Bomoor sought to portray, his fear was palpable to Thane, who had not yet recovered from his emotional exertion. The burst of emotion had briefly stripped away all sense of control, and whilst that was now returning with some careful Jedi consideration, his senses had become exceptionally and keenly aware of everything around them. The world seemed both more vibrant and intoxicating to him, and time felt to be moving more slowly than his usual perceptions.

He brought his blade about as two more of the crowd stepped forward to attack them, buoyed by more hateful comments from the priest and apparently overcoming their fear of the supernatural power and weapons wielded by the two Jedi interlopers. Trained by Sotah to favour non-lethal strikes and actions, Thane aptly delivered physical blows to the duo, keeping the energy blade of his weapon away from them as he incapacitated them. However, the conflict and seeing their pair make their move only encouraged others, as more pressed towards Thane and Bomoor.

Still mindful of not delivering any lethal strikes to the Marathoni agitators, Thane spun himself around to avoid their strikes and assault, whilst still trying to remain in a tight defensive formation with Bomoor, who managed to use his impressive size and natural strength to throw back a number of the attacking Humans. One combatant swung a wooden pole towards Thane head, which he was able to grasp and pull from the man's grip, using the same spinning motion that he used to procure it to crack it into the man's leg. There was an audible crack of bones and the man screamed in pain as he fell to the floor, and it took only a short moment for some of his comrades to drag him out of harm's way and take his place, enraged by the grievous injury Thane had inflicted.

Despite their desire to bring no serious harm to these beings, Thane kept his lightsaber ignited, as both a deterrent and tool of last resort, but switched the wooden pole to his dominant hand, which he swung around with artful precision to knock back and non-lethally defeat half a dozen more zealots. Whilst a number of objects continued to be hurled unseen from within the crowd towards them, they had yet to land any further blows on the Jedi, their fighting arc severely diminished by the small space between them. None seemed brave enough to launch themselves on two waiting lightsabers en masse.

As Thane thrust his palm out to project another wave of Force energy into a nearing cluster of men and women, he sighted a flash of crimson, gold and steel within the crowd, as the armoured figures - the apparent fighting classes of the Nea Glarists - they had seen earlier moved towards the source of this new conflict.

"I see them," Bomoor's naturally loud voice still seemed faint over the jeering of the crowds, having spotted the armoured individuals along with Thane, "Try to back up to the chapel building. I can put up a better defence with a wall behind us."

As if in demonstration of their difficult position, Thane watched as one of the crowd attempted to jump atop Bomoor's back and drive him down like he was some kind of wild nerf being broken by his herder. He saw the flicker of rage that came so rarely to the calm Ithorian as his friend wrenched his back violently to the side, sending the man bowling into the crowd at some speed.

It did not put them off for long however as others began to try performing the same stunt with Bomoor now waving them off with his own shimmering blade, still managing to keep from harming the crowd. It was now becoming harder to see which direction they should be heading in with even the righteous orders from the preacher now having faded into the general din. It felt like they must have the whole town bearing down on them right now.

Then, for a moment, the crowd seemed to thin slightly and the pair heard several individuals cheering as they parted to allow through one of the Nea Glarist militiamen. He was a tall, muscle-bound Human, who carried a heavy-looking electrostaff that appeared as though it was cobbled together from two entirely different weapons. It was the sort of thing you might see a scrap salvager wielding. Perhaps this man had been just that before he joined with his new cause.

"The alien scum and its defender will submit before the mercy of Her great Glare or suffer," his voice demanded from under his golden helmet, "Throw down your blasphemous weapons of false light."

With the arrival of the new combatants, the lowlier street warriors had withdrawn from the melee and allowed these hallowed figures to take front stage in the contest with the two Jedi. Jeers and sneers remained plentiful, but no more objects or weapons were being used on them or the ailing Rodian nearby. In the distance, the preacher had gripped the Rodian around the back of his thin neck and was still spewing vitriol to the crowd.

Thane did not hear the exact words, nor did he care to even attempt to make them out anymore. Whilst saving the prisoner from the extremists remained at the forefront of his mind, he was finding it hard to distract himself from the immediate risk to his and his friend's lives. Non-fatal conflict was becoming increasingly troublesome to maintain, and as he brought his violet blade vertical with his face, stony expression meeting the veiled faces of the Glarists, he knew that his energy and focus was slipping - someone was invariably bound to be hurt.

Peace shall overcome emotion, he echoed the Reborn Code to himself. Serenity shall quell passion.

"We are Jedi Knights of the Third Republic!" Thane stated firmly to the armoured foes that were now surrounding them, trying to add as much authority as possible to his voice as he realised the enemy's numbers were greater than he first estimated. Whilst they were armed with mismatched equipment and armour, the quality and workmanship was still respectable, and were clearly constructed with lethal efficiency in mind, as much as a fear factor with the garish red-and-gold detailing.

"In the name of the Galactic Senate, we are taking your prisoner under our jurisdiction and returning to the orbiting Judicial Forces." Thane made a point of looking around at as many of the Glarists as he could without compromising his position, but he was beginning to realise he could not keep up with the numbers surrounding them. "Let us leave peaceably, or be branded war criminals."

The flash of anger within the militiaman was easy to sense, “The only war here, false one, is the war fought by your Republic against the truth of the Mother’s great Glare. The time for your lies has ended. My eyes are open.”

The priest’s voice rang out again, “You speak truth noble defender. This human and his beast have entered our world through subterfuge and seek to undermine the great work the Archprelate is doing here. Every soul here should take up arms and strike down these intruders, for it is Her glorious will.”

A great cheer erupted and the adorned militiamen turned their weapons towards the Jedi with the crowd following suit and beginning to swell around them once again.

“There is no need of this,” even Bomoor’s loud voice was struggling to overcome the jeers and shouts of the people, “We seek only to preserve life, regardless of religion or race. There is no war being waged.”

He yelled suddenly as an electrified weapon hit his leg and he quickly swung his blade around and batted it away before throwing back his attacker with a wave of his hands. As he did so, another Human stepped forwards and attempted to slice at his side with a dagger, which he narrowly avoided. He looked up to see the other Nea Glarist fighter bearing down on him. This short-bearded human was more wiry than his counterpart and carried a shock whip in his right hand, with some kind of durasteel knuckle weapon on his left fist, giving him the appearance of a pirate slaver. Only the red and gold colours identified him as serving the Glarist cause.

His whip shot forwards and entangled itself around the Ithorian’s wrist, where he held his blade, and quickly pulled him down. His lightsaber disengaged as he hit the ground, but he reacted quickly and dragged the Human down with him. Now on the ground, the crowd quickly began to pile atop Bomoor as they did before. The militiaman slowly rose and drew back his whip, choosing instead to utilise his other weapon. He struck the Jedi’s hump with his armoured fist and Bomoor yelled out as the blunt, deep pain shot across his upper body. Bomoor tried to wrestle his arm free but was dazed as another fist blow impacted just above his left mouths.

"Bomoor!" Thane found himself calling again at the sight of his friend falling. Having struck away at the weapon of another of the fanatics assailing them, he know brought his blade to bear on the group surrounding the Ithorian. For that moment, he did not think of avoiding harm to these people, as he was overcome with concern for the consular. As he swung his violet blade round to slice at the arm of the nearest warrior, he felt, before he could effectively sense, something tangle about his own ankle, which toppled him to the floor as well.

Instinctively, Thane cut the whip-like strand that had seized his foot, but he could not immediately rise, as he, too, found himself surrounded by increasing numbers of Glarists. From his near-prone position upon the hard ground, he swung his lightsaber with increasingly desperate and more limited focus. With both the din and number of people mounting, he was unsure if his weapon found any of his targets, as angry shouts and pained screams blended into one noise.

As he took another swing, an extreme pain seized the forearm connected to Thane's dominant fighting hand, as the current of some weapon coursed through him and caused his entire body to seize up and cramp. A moment later, he had released his lightsaber and it clattered away into the crowd, who now fully fell upon him, urged on by their lunatic priest nearby, landing blow after blow onto his body, as he also tried to bring his legs and arms in closer to his chest, to preserve whatever he could of his bulk.

As Thane felt his consciousness slipping away from him, he tried desperately to reach out to Bomoor through the Force, to push past the extreme pain and the mundane world to find even the barest echo of his nearby friend, to be sure that he was still alive. But, he sensed nothing, feeling little but the agony of the beating the Marathoni cultists were inflicting upon him. With his eyes sealing closed and his body growing ever number, Thane's last thought before he finally surrendered into unconsciousness was that he and Bomoor were going to die on this forgotten Mid Rim world, murdered by beating for trying to save an unknown Rodian from a pointless execution.

TBC

 

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