Burning ambers flew up in the air in protest as Trazu poked the fire and tossed another log into it. The night air was still and quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the occasional nocturnal animal call. It was peaceful out here, in the wilds of Talus, but the Trandoshan sitting in this camp was not at peace, hasn't been for the better part of two years now. Lilac eyes stared sadly into the light of the fire, it's dancing flames making weird patterns and shadows on green skin and black clothing and the light of which reflected off the golden bracelet he wore on his left wrist. He didn't know why he still wore the thing to be honest, for all it symbolised now was what he had lost...

It had been going all so well for him, until that day...the day when a rival Trandoshan clan attacked his. The K'Satikur Clan was able to fend off their attackers, but not without great losses: among those losses was his beloved Tzosha, who had gave her life protecting their still unhatched eggs. He had tried to hide his grief, for such emotion was rare among his people, but those that knew him well knew he was hurting and tried to get him to talk about it. He refused and kept it all within, letting it eat away at him from the inside.

It was when the eggs hatched that it finally overwhelmed him, for one of his newly hatched daughters looked exactly like his Tzosha: it was too much for the grieving Tran to bare. So he fled, fled back to the place where he lived before he meet Tzosha and discovered his heritage: Talus. He kept in touch with his family via messages, but lately he's been doing so less and less frequently: he was starting to losing the will to continue on. He knew his sister, Varca, was likely looking for him by now...if only out of concern for his well being. The problem for her though, is that Trazu knew the wilds on Talus much better then she did...and with his Ranger skills if he didn't want to be found...no one will. But he was also losing the ability to care...and with that...the old family 'gift', the bloodrage, was starting to take greater hold of him. He learned to control it completely before...before Tzosha's death, but that control he had was now slipping. There was a small part of him that knew he needed to fight back against his depression and pull himself together again...before the bloodrage took complete control. But he majority of his mind was too deep in his despire to really care and he was losing that internal battle of wills.

A stiff breeze came up, fanning the flames of his campfire and causing this jacket to flap briefly. Normally such a change in weather wouldn't bother him, especially since he was so buried in his own thoughts, but something in the breeze tugged at his 'sixth sense', something he hadn't felt in a while. Pulled out of stuper for the moment, he rose to his feet and faced the breeze. In times before, that sixth sense usually warned him of danger and he always heeded it: he even reflexively put his hand on the hilt of his sword. But that's all it was, a reflex, a reminat of a time when he took no chances in any encounter with other sentient beings and instead of threatened, he felt intriged. Had he sunk so low that he was willing to let himself die at the hands or claws of the first man or beast that found him?

No. There was still a will to live in his shattered mind, he was not ready to give up on his life just yet. But what of his feeling he felt? It was still there, tugging and tapping at his mind, but he couldn't see any threat with his eyes. He forced himself to focus on that sixth sense of his and came to the conclusion that something had changed on this planet: whether it was political or environmental he didn't know...but he did now he now no longer felt safe here. He had to leave, but where could he go? Back home to Trandosha? No...he wasn't ready to go back to his home world again, the wounds of grief still had a long ways to go before they were healed...and in truth he wasn't sure if he will ever heal.

Quickly he disassembled his camp and packed up, putting out the fire. He was immediately pludged into darkness, but his eyes quickly adjusted, switching to the infra spectrum. He could see now the various animals around him by their heat signitures, but he knew none of them would be a treat to him. Shouldering on his pack, he set off heading for the nearest point of civilization here: Dearic. A part of him didn't want to leave this planet, as he had spent the better part of eight years here, but that sixth sense of his was telling him he had to move. Whatever it was that had changed here, it meant he wouldn't find the solitude he needed to grieve in peace if he lingered...

The public transport from the Centerpoint Station to Talus drew in to dock with a quiet hum. It was fortunate for the prophet Van-Derveld that his lord had informed him of his calling to this planet some days ago. Had it not been so, he would have found it most difficult to arrive in time for meeting the one who the Unspoken had told him of. He had brought little with him outside of his walking stick and a small satchel, which he adjusted as he surveyed the area. Now on Corellian soil, the Dark Jedi began walking through the hustle and bustle of the planet side port, examining the rusting superstructures and old Liberation Party posters, now all by worn away.

To Talus.

Why, my lord?

Yours is not to question, Van-Derveld.

Mine is but to do, yes, but my lord…

Dearic city awaits.

The flow of human traffic branched off to the various districts of the city now. Some to the bars and clubs, to enjoy themselves on their brief pit stop on the planet. Others to the industrial district, and no doubt to work. The Arkanian was walked the road less-traveled, that wound its way into the wilds. It was as Trandoshan felt a flicker of warning in his mind that the Dark Jedi paused. His hollow-white eyes turned skywards, as though looking to something only he could see for further direction and guidance. The Darkside told him his quarry was ahead, but his precise location eluded him.

Wait.

He nodded to himself. He would wait. In time, the fly would come. Routes into the city proper were scarce, especially from the debatably perilous wild lands. Thus, he lowered himself to the ground and sat, cross-legged, with his staff lain across his lap. Eyes closed, he began to meditate on the Force as he awaited the inevitable.

Dearic loomed before him and with it more memories. He remembered a few years back, before his return to Trandosha, how he was both a nobody yet a something of a celebraty in this city. Trazu didn't remember how it happened, but he earned the reputation of being a 'street cleaner', namely by occasionally wiping out the local street thugs: he never liked thugs and often killed them on sight. The honest citizens loved him for it, even started paying him to come 'clean up' occasionally when they felt the gang population had grown out of hand: the local government certainly wasn't doing anything about it. Of course the local gangs hated him for it...but new better then to try to avenge their fallen comrades: those that tried always failed...and those that actually survived wound up with a missing limb or two.

But that was before he returned to Trandosha, before he suffered his losses. In that realitively brief time he was gone he was forgotten here, he kind of prefered it that way now to be honest. There were a few that did know he had come back to the planet, but they all respectfully left him alone and didn't pry into his personal business. Most of the time...

A tap on his shoulder made him jump and he spun around sharply, his sword partically jumping out of it's shealth.

"Whoa WHOA! Traz!" the human who had touched him said, jumping back and out of reach of his sword, "I'm a friend! Surely you remember o' 'Slinky' right?"

"Slinky?" Trazu repeated, remembering the tall, lean human. He was a smuggler and slicer, one that started out badly with Trazu a few years back during one of his 'cleaning sweeps'. The youth had begged him to let him go, on the promise he would get him a better sword (the one Trazu had at the time was starting to get beat up). Trazu, recognizing the protential of getting something more out of this then he would from simply killing him, agreed, but gave him only two weeks to deliever. Slinky did deliever and ever since then Slinky had cleaned up his act...as well as a smuggler could anyway...and became an important city contact for the Trandoshan. "Sorry..." Trazu said as he sheathed his sword. "I've hadn't gotten much sleep as of late...so I'm a bit edgy."

"Still having those nightmares I take it?" Slinky asked, he being the only one that had any clue to Trazu's current mental state.

"Not so much the nightmares...but something else...something...wrong."

"A 'distrubance' in the force maybe?"

Trazu looked at the youth sharply. "Don't start on that 'force' mumbo jumbo with me Slinky." he said sharply. He heard of the Force yes, but didn't believe in it nor in Jedi...whom he thought were just a myth.

"Right right..." Slinky said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Oh...that's right." he reached into his pocket and handed him a holodisk. "The comm folks at the message center wanted me to track you down to give you this. I said 'Track him down? You're kidding right? How do you track down a Ranger of all things...'"

Trazu couldn't help chuckle, his mood lighten slight in remembering how his life style can make it nearly impossible for others to track him down if needed. His mood slipped back down again when he noticed the label on it was in Dosh. It had to be a message from his family back home: he hadn't messaged them in nearly two months now...so now it seems they decided to send him one.

"How long ago did this come in?" he asked.

"Uh...not sure, a week I think." Slinky replied, "Comm guys are not exactly prompt in trying to track down individuals who have no real address to send it to. It was rather fortunate I spotted you just now: you are such a slippy Trandoshan."

Again Trazu smiled, politely, as he slipped the disk into his pack. "Thank you...I'll watch it when I am on the shuttle."

"Shuttle? Where are you going?"

"I...don't know...I just know I can't stay here anymore." Trazu said as he turned to continue on deeper into the city.

"Ok...well...safe journey then." Slinky said, knowing this 'meeting' was over.

"Keep yourself out of trouble, alright?"

"Of course!" Was the last thing Trazu heard him say before the smuggler slipped back into the shadows.

Alone again, Trazu concentrated on the task at hand, namely getting to the starport. At least...he thought he was alone on this lonely, little used alleyways. That sixth sense of his was tugging at him again, stronger this time. Again, instead of feeling threatened he felt curious, but placed his hand on the hilt of his sword none-the-less and moved more cautiously. Turning a corner, he saw a figure sitting cross-legged on the ground, looking to be in some sort of trance. There was something about this individual...something...powerful, but in what way he did not know.

Trazu approached him, slowly: any other time in his life he likely would have just passed this guy by without a glance, but he felt...drawn...to him for some reason. There was a small part of him however...that was screaming for him to run...however at present he was ignoring it.

(ooc: just a note I forgot to mention: Trazu is very short for a Trandoshan...only 4'10". *grin*)

Patience is a virtue, and although not one that Van-Derveld often prided himself on, today he was thankful he had a little of it in him. Even if he hadn't had the Force to alert him to the presence of another, the slow cautious sound of footsteps approaching would have told him that he was not alone. There was a subtle shift in the air tension of the alleyway, alluding to the acute sense of apprehension, and perhaps fear, felt by the Trandoshan.

The Arkanian, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. He opened his milky-white eyes and looked up at the decidedly squat reploid. Even in the fairly dim light, he was able to see sharply – his species was gifted with strong sight, almost as good as infrared vision.

"Ahh," he said, with a wistful smile.

"You must be the one I'm waiting for."

Trazu frowned: he didn't like this one bit now. Yes he had dealt with 'unknown' contacts before in his life, but they had at least the decency to forewarn him first. He had no knowledge of needing to 'meet' anyone today and this ones claim sent up it's share of red flags in his mind.

His sixth sense was still ringing though and his sense of caution wasn't what it used to be due to his current mental state, so those 'red flags' were ignored: he was still 'curious' about the power he could sense in this man. Powerful he could tell...but the shape that power took was unknown to him and this both disturbed and intriged him even more.

"Waiting...for me?" Trazu asked, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sword. "For what purpose?"

Purpose. It seemed everyone required one now. Things could not simply be. An explanation and breakdown of motives was needed. In this case, Vega could offer neither. He had a suspicion in the back of his mind of exactly why he would be asked to liaise with this Trandoshan, but there was no sense in deluding him that he was something great and important when he was not. Therefore, the answer he gave as characteristically evasive, vague and above all uninformative – leaving Trazu to draw his own conclusions.

"Can you think of any reason why?"

Oh this is nice... Trazu thought, slightly annoyed. Not even 'he' knows... Or at least he was pretending not to: Trazu learned long ago that first impressions weren't nessacarily correct. He learned that lesson the hard way back when, when he was still a lad, he picked a fight with a Kima because he thought the animals small size meant it would be an easy kill for him: the small cat like creature nearly skinned him rather then him skinning it.

Still, he thought perhaps he should humor the man and racked his brain for possible reasons for this unannounced meeting.

"A possible job offer perhaps?" he suggested, which was a realistic possibility as he had job offers before from complete strangers. But then another thought came to him. "Unless...you...or whomever it was that sent you...felt the same thing I did on this planet. But that still doesn't explain why you would want to meet me anyway..." He threw up his arms in frustration and heaved a heavy sigh.

"We have both been brought to this point for a purpose, Trazu. You are here to meet me and I am here to guide you on to greater things. It seems farfetched, of course, but I know that you feel you are not like others… that is why you roam, wander like a nomad. There is something inside of you clawing to get out. A caged thing, that you have smothered for far too long. You know of what I speak, do you not?" he asked, with a wry smile.

Trazu narrowed his eyes: how the heck did this guy not only know his name...but about the family 'gift' as well? He has never seen this man before in his life, so the only possible reason in his mind he could know of these things is that someone he knew told him. There were a few people off of Dosha that knew of him, but only members of his family knew of the bloodrage that he knew of.

"Yes I know what you speak of.." he said, "It is something I wish I didn't have at all. It took me years to learn how to control it fully, so I wouldn't kill those that didn't deserve death when I happened to surcum to it. I smother it because it needs to be smothered. If I didn't, may innocents would die. I have no intention of releasing it ever again...if I had a choice."

But his mind, due to his weakened mental state, was reminding him of the power he felt when he surcumed to the bloodrage. Surely it wasn't such a bad thing? After all...he used it for good before...when he slew his Uncle Tnossok.

No. He thought, shaking his head. I had no choice then...Tnossok would have killed us all if I hadn't. But his thoughts seemed to only strengthen his minds previous point.

"Just what are these 'greater things' you speak of anyway?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"Greater things… why, anything you could wish for, my friend. We all have our desires, our vices. What you possess is the ability to seize them. You smother what cannot be killed, for to kill it is to kill yourself. By denying it, you only fuel it and if you do not learn to control your inner demons they will one day consume you, whether with grief, guilt or anger."

Doom saying was not something Van-Derveld practiced particularly, but from his words one would think that he prophesized the end of the world on a regular basis.

"We all of us have the potential to be something great and to use what gifts we have to help ourselves, and if we so choose others. Your potential is simply higher than others, and therefore you have a greater ability to help, as it were."