Knights Reborn

I think it's about time I start writing the story that's floating around in my head. It's a bit of a mix between the Star Wars universe as a whole, and my spin on KR. It really has no relation to anyone's stories unless by coincidence, and it may not necessarily be what you picture KR as. Take it for what it is, a work of fiction.

I'll be doing it in several parts. First is by Volume - sort of like a different story each volume, but all related. I will also be doing it in sub-categories (chapters). Rather than have you guys wait for each volume to be completed, I'll simply give you a list of each volume as I work on them, and I'll fill in the chapters along the way.

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Volume 1




Prologue
The People of the Sands

Chapter 1
The Wayward Jedi

Chapter 2
Lost and Found

Chapter 3
Drake of the Nether

Chapter 4
Heart of Infinite Turmoil

Chapter 5
Burrows of Bel’got

Chapter 6
Welcome to the Machine

The People of the Sands


Tusken Raiders, the nomadic tribe still at odds with any other civilization on Tatooine. Their language only understood by few, their life style a mystery to foreigners, and their motives - perhaps the most unclear of all. Despite the ever-changing galaxy that surrounds them, they have remained relatively unmoved over the centuries. Once known as “sand people,” they lived amongst the lost dune seas and bleak landscapes of the desert planet. Now, they are known as nothing more than savages and thieves. Roughly eighteen years, common time, after the rebirth of the Jedi Council, headed by Luke Skywalker, Tatooine’s major cities were all but destroyed by an unseen malevolence. The great creatures that rule the depths had essentially razed all but the lowly huts and villages of the Tusken people.

It would take five years before man or alien would set forth an endeavor to re-inhabit the wastelands. The first to spring would be Eiten’tak, a small mechanical district constructed by ruined droids and city remains, designed by the Jawas and protected by Imperial remnants rehired as mercenaries. Cleverly crafted, the establishment rests upon a thin layer of echani meshing, helping to relieve any vibrations caused by the civilians that might attract another apocalypse such as before. Several other ports were also constructed through out the planet, acting as pit-stops for salvaging crews who attempt to recover any technology previously lost over the ages. Aside from Eiten’tak, no other town has been able to withstand the harsh environment of Tatooine, or the constant ransacking of the Tusken Raiders.

The tribes, greater in number than they once previously were, now roam the sands, the most predominate humanoid species in existence on Tatooine. Still as hostile as always, the Tusken population seeks to gather as many treasures and tools from other species as possible. Moisture farmers, droid repair shops, even racing tracks are not ignored by the nomads. Technology is technology in the eyes of these people, and if one has technology, one is a prime target.

Here on Tatooine, in Eiten’tak, the new Jedi Council begins to extend its roots. Although too dangerous for the aged Skywalker, and many older members of the Order, Jedi presence is not slim. Pioneered by several promising Knights, followed by their Padawans, a small conclave of Jedi hopes to strengthen a political hold on any new-forming governments that may establish on Tatooine…

Chapter 1: The Wayward Jedi
Part 1

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Note from Author: Each character in here is indeed a KR member. Since some names aren't really names, I had to take the liberty of editing them to make them more alien/human/whatever. I may or may not get around to handing out the nicknames, but just in case you can't figure out who is who by what I describe (may be difficult in the beginning), I'll keep an updated list of characters and their corresponding members.

Antioch: trICky
Sinjin: Stealth
Sethura: RaVeN
Martin: Martin (Woo, didn't see that comin'! )
Vandrasz: Nintendo

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“Would you mind slowing down for those of us who don’t have plates stuck to our face?” groaned Sinjin. Being one of the younger members of the conclave, he had a knack for complaining when it was least appropriate, but he was otherwise recognized as a talented saber wielder and foe in battle, as why he was assigned to the group. Sinjin’s frame was that of the typical Jedi. Not particularly muscular, but lean and athletic, honed by mental and physical battering.
Marching at the head of the single-file line of Jedi was Antioch. “You are a Knight, are you not? I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling a little sand storm.” Antioch’s appearance was most menacing. The expected attire of the conclave on Tatooine was to be of a faded, gold or brown robe, sheathing the body from the abusive sun and melding the figure with the sand. Antioch, on the other hand, chose to wear a black, somewhat inflated, shirt with a dark kilt of sorts to match. Under the shirt he lined himself with a linked-metal, similar to chain mail in looks, but much lighter and more flexible. His fists and chest were clad in a thick plate, almost giving him a final touch of medieval attire. Yet all this tends to be ignored when he is encountered face to face – in a manner of speaking. Antioch has the unfortunate burden of having an old Sith relic forcefully held to him; a mask to be precise. Pale white, with a dab of dismay, the plastic-looking face is the smoothing feature of his death-beckoning demeanor.
Behind Antioch, and a head of Sinjin, trudged Sethura. She was a twi’lek unlike most. Her skin was jet-black, and matched with her normal gold-leather armor; she had a regal, yet deadly presentation. However, the faded gold robe she now donned did little to express the details of her figure. “Don’t feel bad, Sinny, I’m sure he’s smirking under that mask of his.” She knew that Antioch was smiling to himself at the remark, but made no effort to further prod into his emotions. “Remind me again why we’re walking around the Jundland Wastes in the middle of a storm?”
“There are two mistakes in your question, my friend,” Antioch replied, neither breaking his stride nor looking back at his partner.
“What do you mean?” she further pried.
“We aren’t in Jundland anymore, and this isn’t a sand storm.”
“What’re you talking about?”
After a near hour of battling the winds which kicked up sand in a relentless effort to dismay the travelers, Antioch stopped their advancement. “Oh, great Gods of Tatooine, you have truly blessed me this day!” Sinjin proclaimed, throwing his arms up and collapsing to his knees in the soft cushion of sand below him. Paying no attention to the third party member, Antioch motioned for Sethura to come speak with him.
“What is it?” Sethura asked. She didn’t feel uncomfortable around Antioch, as most of the conclave did, yet she always keeps her guard up in the back of her mind. Though he has done nothing to prove that he is unworthy of her friendship, she has been told stories of his wavering loyalty to the Order – a wayward Jedi who wandered from planet to planet.
Antioch brushed his hands back, lowering a hood that shielded his thick mane of brown and blonde dreadlocks, turning his head upward into the harsh breeze that threatened to tear the skin off his scalp. “Do you not feel it? This is no ordinary wind.”
She was weary, at best, but decided to unveil herself as well and risk exposing herself to the sand-riddled air. To her surprise, the lashes did not follow; the strength of the wind was not nearly as strong as it appeared. Furthermore, it had a distinct taste; taste being used loosely. Once one has been exposed to force for so long, the energy given off by another force-user is almost palpable, and can easily be recognized, sometimes over great distances. “What is it?”
Antioch took his time placing his hood back over his head, letting his thoughts gather as Sethura followed suit, before he near-whispered, “Martin and Vandrasz.”

***

“People are coming,”
“Indeed,”
“Shall we stop?”
“Do you want to stop?”

***

“Pick it up, Sin, we’re moving again,” Antioch ordered, throwing his arm forward in a battle-charge fashion.
Sin stumble forward, somewhat over-dramatically to emphasize his dislike for the situation the group was in. “You know, if we come out to investigate every strange feeling we get, I’m not goin’ to survive much longer.”
“No worries, Sin. It’ll build up your leg muscles; make you more attractive for the ladies!” Sethura chimed in, her effervescent attitude peculiar to the environment.
“Yeah, climbing through sand dunes to beef up is exactly what I want to be doing on my time off,” Sin stated.
“Alright, the two of you, unless it’s on-topic, keep it down,”
“Hey, Chief Clown-Face, you said that we weren’t in Jundland anymore. We’ve been walking for a while, but I don’t think we’ve gone far enough to be out of its boundaries,” Sinjin inquired. While it was true that the crew had not walked a long enough distance to reach the end of the Wastes, not everything is what it seems to be.
“It’s below us, we’ve been walking in the air,” Sethura cut in, knowing that Antioch would give another one of his cryptic responses.
“Very good,” Antioch’s tone of voice was always somewhat gray; never showing much pitch, volume, or variation, it showed very little flavor. Yet, when he felt as though he were instructing someone, his attitude seemed to almost bubble-up, eager to compliment, reprimand, or other tasks involved in teaching.

A nice start setting the mood nicely, Yer characters seem more or less spot on too

Very put together it seems. And you do paint a pretty good picture of the characters and the setting.

Good job so far.

I like it tricky, good job

Good job on the visualizations




...when do i put on my real armor?

Very intersting...I Really like it...Cant wait to read your next chapter....

What the crap tricky...my character is getting tired standing out in the sand in a dirty old robe when she should be slicing and dicing in her hot hot gold armor.

This is beautiful work tricky, this the only story thus far i have copied and pasted onto my computer to keep and reread. There must be more?