A Grand Plan of Unusual Beginnings: the pirate world of Taris

Since you were a small boy, you had dreamed of becoming a Jedi Knight much in the same way as Anakin Skywalker once dreamed, and now you were free to make that dream a reality. Disappearing from your room and leaving your old home behind for good, you find yourself floating in the void of space, just beyond the **** Outer Rim arms of the Galaxy in a grandiose picture befitting your Godhood. Arms outstretched to your sides, you close your eyes and manifest your new form. Your body molds to peak physical condition, old flabs and chubs being replaced by hardened, well trained muscles befitting of a Mandalorian warrior. Such physique felt absolutely heavenly in comparison to the chronic aches and pains of your old form. Next came your clothing, but rather than dress yourself like a Jedi of the Order, you instead opt for more low key scoundrel garb not unlike Han Solo, with a comfortable shirt and long trousers, rugged leather boots and belt, and a stylish duster for warding off inclement weather. With such an outfit, you'd fit right in to a life of daring and adventure on the Outer Rim. Lastly, you manifested your weapons, starting first with a pair of DL-44 heavy blaster pistols to fit your outward gunslinger persona, and a single hilt lightsaber with a purple crystal, your favorite color and a symbolic melding of light and dark. The blasters you holstered on your belt, affectionately naming them Adam and Eve, and the lightsaber you tucked into a pocket inside of your duster.

Now for your goal. You wanted to create a Jedi Order to your own designs, free of the dogmas of Yoda's teachings and more in tune with the natural state of the Living ****, whilst simultaneously respecting the greater mysteries of the Cosmic ****. You very much enjoyed and appreciated the views of the Gray Order and Qui Gon Jinn as you grew into an adult, especially their doctrine of Balance between Light and Dark, and adherence to the Living **** respectfully. The entire existence of Anakin Skywalker, after all, was the **** attempting to balance itself in the face of Jedi and Sith power being left unchecked. Moreover, you could see the natural development of the Galaxy repeating past cycles of war and destruction, as Light constantly clashed with Dark. This held especially true considering Luke's attempt at rebuilding his own New Jedi Order, in direct opposition to what was currently the unknown threat the First Order posed as it continued to grow in strength with Sith influence. A middle ground would be needed to guide **** Sensitives naturally into balance. Sure you could freely use and **** your Godly abilities to shape everything exactly how you wanted, but the cheapness of such an idea left a bad taste in your mouth.

You wanted danger and adventure, triumph and tragedy, and to share such experiences with real characters who, while powerful in their own rights, would never be your equal. The question now however was to decide where to start your adventure. There were countless worlds to choose from, not just in the New Republic and Imperial Remnant sectors, but Hutt space as well as countless other unaligned worlds. Ultimately, you had decided on a backwater world long forgotten by the Galaxy at large but very much a hive of activity for illicit criminal groups to include the Hutts, the Black Sun, and most prominently in history, the Exchange.

Nowadays, Taris was hardly the glittering Ecumenopolis it once was before Malak had laid waste to its surface, but it endured as a safe haven for characters of ill repute over the millennia, especially in these tumultuous times of tension between the New Republic and the Imperial Remnant. It was also the perfect place for any Jedi survivors to hide, the first initiates in what would become a revival of the old Je'daii. But most importantly to you, it was the starting world in the beloved KoTOR series, and you wished to pay homage to one of the most influential mediums in your development as a Star Wars fan. Your decision made up, you cross time and space, and arrive away from prying eyes between two ruined buildings near one of the larger outposts on the planet's surface.

Immediately you're assaulted by the stench and humidity of a swamp world, coupled with the general sense of misery and deceit of a settlement run by criminals. You scrunch your nose instinctively as you try to ward off the acrid fetor of decay. Moving quickly, you emerge from the alley and make your way into town. The weak were trampled by the strong, a true testament to Taris' perpetual state of Anarchy. That being said, you found some elements of normalcy, particularly workshops for scrappers, and vendors of all kinds peddling wares like scrap, weapons, parts, droids, and the like. Surrounding this central market was a hodgepodge of dwellings built into the ruins of the once glittering skyscrapers, repurposed and retrofitted for shelter. Occasionally you spied HoloNet broadcasts reporting on the doings of the greater galaxy, but these you only paid mild attention.

Instead you were drawn to a stronger than average **** presence, hidden somewhere amongst the crowds. It was muted of course, as if the individual was purposefully trying to hide. Maybe you found a wayward Jedi who managed to escape the clutches of the Empire? Whatever the individual might be, it was moving quickly with a destination in mind. Pocketing your hands, you shadow them from a distance, slipping in and out of sight seamlessly with your environment, but as the trail continued, you start to notice you weren't the only shadow following along. You count five... no, seven unruly types heading in the same direction, taking the same twists and turns as you. Bounty hunters or lowly thugs, you couldn't tell from this distance, only that your goal was the same.

Your hunch was only confirmed as your mark quickens its pace. The jig was up it seemed as the thugs broke out into a sprint, and you followed suit. People cry out in alarm as you roughly shove past, keeping pace with this gang as they lead you to the edge of the settlement. Unfortunately for your mark, they make a wrong turn and find themselves cornered against a the wreckage of a crashed freighter of ancient design. You slow your approach as well, crouching out of sight as you finally get eyes on your quarry.

You hadn't expected to see Rey here of all places. For one, she wasn't due to be born for another 5 years at least, and for two this was the exact opposite of the Galaxy from Jakku. But in retrospect, considering all the other liberal changes you've made to this variation, having Rey being born early and growing up on a different planet wasn't all too far fetched. Curiously enough, behind her feet was the timid form of BB-8, the little orange and white droid whining worriedly as she stares down her assailants, staff held at the ready at her flank.

"Nowhere left to run now, girly," announced the lead hoodlum. "You know whatever Cyrus wants here on Taris, he gets. Make it easy on yourself."

"I already told you, the droid isn't for sale," she says defiantly, making the leader laugh.

"You think that little bucket of bolts is what he wants? Nah, he's after a better prize; you."

You raise an eyebrow at the declaration, the pack slowly surrounding Rey with their blasters drawn.

"Ya know word out on the Rim says the Empire is still paying quite a pretty credit for fugitive Jedi... and to think one has been right here all along under our noses."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rey denies. "I've been scrapping here my entire life. Whatever it is you think I am, it's not it."

"See... we thought that too. Then we found out your ole pops isn't what he says he was."

Rey's brows crease at the mention of her father. You make another mental note of this key difference. It seemed this Rey was fully aware of her parentage and considering the past tense used in his reference, it seemed her father wasn't around anymore.

"I'm giving you, all of you, one last chance to walk away," she says lowly. "And leave me alone."

The leader simply chuckles and pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a long drag as he issues a command.

"Get her."

Deciding you've waited long enough, you emerge from around the corner, Adam and Eve drawn and at the ready, and fire a pair of bolts into the two closest thugs. They crumple to the ground with cries of anger and pain. At the same time, Rey makes a wide sweep with her staff in the middle of the confusion, knocking the thug nearest to her in the head with a sickening crack. With a practiced flourish, she rounds on a second and sends him to the ground similarly. BB-8 doesn't remain idle either, rolling quickly towards the leader before he could brandish his own blaster and shocks him in the ankle. The following scuffle lasts all of seven seconds more as you pick off the remaining three here on the ground with you, as well as two more up above in the wreckage before they could sight in on either of you. Holstering your blasters with a spin, you turn towards Rey who has the leader pinned to the ground with the tip of her staff pressing against his neck.

"Oh you really screwed up now," he laughs through a mouthful of blood, courtesy of multiple broken teeth and a busted nose. "You're gonna have the whole damn planet gunning for your head."

"People die on Taris all the time, you won't be missed," she hisses.

He only gurgles with more laughter at her taunt.

"Word spreads quick. It don't matter if you say you're a Jedi or not. Everyone will want that bounty."

"Then it's a good thing I showed up here when I did," you say, joining the pair.

"I didn't need your help, thanks," Rey says bitingly.

"As far as I can see it, I saved your life. It wouldn't kill you to be a bit more grateful."

"Fine. Thank you. You've done your part now, so lea-"

The cracking of a blaster bolt echoes out, interrupting your little dispute before it could carry on further. Rey seems to spot it first, the bolt flashing in the corner of your eye, the bead drawn dead center on her chest. That was when she pulled her staff apart in two. To your wonder, a golden yellow blade erupts from within, deflecting the bolt and returning it to sender. At the same time, the thug she had pinned took that moment to lift his hand, and too little too late you notice the barrel of a hidden blaster built into his gauntlet. You draw your own and fire, but was only a split second too late. His bolt strikes her in the stomach, making her crumple to the ground in pain, her saber staff clattering to her side and extinguishing. Perhaps he intended to kill her as a last ditch effort, but either way he would never see his plan through as your own bolt makes short work of his brain matter.

BB-8 squeals in alarm as he rolls up to her, fussing over her wound.

"It's... it's fine Beebee... nothing too bad," she manages between pained gasps, her hand hovering over the oozing wound.

"Like hell it is. You took that shot at point blank range. I'm surprised it didn't punch you all the way through."

"Well forgive me I'm not... quite... dying the way... you expected," she says scathingly.

You ignore her remarks and protests as you pick her up bridal style, her frame surprisingly light in your arms. At the same time, you use the **** to retrieve her staff, something that doesn't go unnoticed by your unwilling patient.

"I'll answer your questions later. First let's get you out of the open and patched up. I don't suppose your hideout is nearby...?"

She sighs with acceptance of her predicament and nods. Over the next few minutes, she leads you through a winding and not at all convoluted pathway through corrugated steal and slag, ruined high rises and past a few spots of bog, until finally, after climbing by stairs up a few stories, you arrive at her shelter. It was as cozy as one could probably manage on Taris, sparsely furnished with a table and chair, a small cooking station, and bed little more than a twin sized mattress tucked away in a corner on the floor. It was on this bed that you gently lay her, a long hiss escaping her as she fights down the unyielding pain. Unfortunately the wound wasn't as cauterized you hoped, indicating she wasn't shot by a traditional blaster bolt, and her clothing had by now started soaking through with blood.

You give her a glance as you kneel at her side, to which she gives a single nod, giving you permission to strip her just enough to do your work and unwrap her clothes to reveal her smooth abdomen, and the angrily blistered hole steadily oozing blood. Focusing your powers, you hover a hand over her injury.

"This might feel... a little weird," you warn.

You don't wait for a reply as you begin knitting the flesh back together. She gasps out with shock and pain, one of her hands grasping tightly at your free one while you work, carefully coaxing the cells within her damaged intestines to rapidly multiply, replacing the dead and charred flesh with a healthy pink. The outer skin followed to seal her insides off from the elements. Finally, the superheated slug pops free just as the skin closes shut, and drops to the floor with a dull thud while the pooled blood both on her person and in her clothes evaporates with a light hiss. With your work complete, all that remained was soft, unblemished skin. Beside you, BB-8 coos in wonder.

"Wow that's..." Rey breathes with relief as she sits up to examine your work. "I guess now I actually do owe you my life. Thanks..."

You smile softly and shuffle back to give her some space, appreciative of this **** side to her. You couldn't blame her for her earlier attitude though. If she lived most of her life here on Taris, it didn't surprise you she'd be rough around the edges.

"So..." she begins. "Are you one...?"

Her implication was clear.

"Are you?" you ask back.

She follows your glance towards her staff and after a brief moment of hesitation, shakes her head.

"I used to be. Not anymore. Jedi aren't exactly accepted in the galaxy."

A silence falls between you, but doesn't last long as she fixes you with a look.

"So...? You didn't answer my question."

You chuckle and shake your head.

"Yes but also no. I can feel the **** and use it for many different things, but I wouldn't call myself a Jedi."

She laughs sardonically with you.

"I guess that makes us a pair of nobodies then. I'm Rey," she introduces herself.

"Michael," you answer, taking her offered hand and lightly squeezing it.

"So Michael, why exactly were you following me?"