Anden's Arrival

Harsh, rainy winds beat steadily upon the surface of Kamino, making dull metalic noises as swollen raindrops hit a hidden settlement. Upon the harsh waters of Kamino there were few enough settlements, always room for more; however, never has the planet attracted the attention of the Jedi Order (save once in the Clone Wars). Exactly why the planet had been chosen, no one was quite sure, but what was known was that it was a very good place to hide.

Master Anden Martins, or Grand Master as he would soon become, stepped out of the tiny transport and looked about the place. They had landed at the chosen site for the Hidden Jedi Temple, a large abandoned cloning facility. Within there were hundreds upon thousands of square footage, which once held twice as many clones, but now would accomodate the Jedi Order. Martin pulled his heavy brown hood over his long white hair, and motioned with two fingers to his Body Guards; two of the old Clone Troopers. The Clones checked the area and returned to Anden, confirming that the facility landing and entrance were unoccupied. Master Martins nodded and headed towards the entrance of the temple.

Once inside, the facility appeared abandoned no more. For years it had been under construction as a possible evacuation site for the Jedi, it had been planned for years, even during the time of Grand Master Solon Qel-Droma. Everything that was needed was either remade or reinstalled. The Great Hall, the Jedi Archives, the Council Room, the Dormatories, the Training Room... even a large indoor garden and commons was created to make the Jedi feel even more at home. Martins surveyed the narrow white walls and silver pillars which opened up to a massive hall that rose up to a crystaline dome. The architechs had done well. Martins walked down the large hallway, which grew wider as he progressed, finally ending at the chamber to the Jedi Council. He pushed the combination for the door, and stepped inside as the door sank below into the floor. It was not nearly as glorious as the Great Hall, but it was none the less a great sight. Arranged in a semi-circle were seven chairs (hopefully for seven future councillors) which sat on top of blue and siver mosaic tiling. Behind each chair was a simple statue of either a jedi guardian, sentinel, or consular. Anden walked over to the crest of the chairs, where the Grand Master sat and took his seat. And upon sitting, he closed his eyes, and promptly fell asleep from the exhaustion of the trip he had endured.

OOC: This one's gonna be long. It's introducing several plot angles for Corran though, so bear with me.

IC:

Corran Horn stirred and woke from his sleep. He was feeling something through the Force, something he'd not felt in years. A call; a summons. It was very faint; a less experienced Force user might not detect it. And it was wholly in the Light. Turning over in bed, Corran gently shook his wife, Mirax, and woke her, "Honey...get our things packed and the kids ready to go. We need to go."

Alarmed, Mirax sat up and stared at her husband while instinctively reaching for a blaster, "What is it? Confederate forces?"

"No," Corran stepped to the wall and, touching it in several precise spots, slid open a panel to reveal the curved hilt of a Makashi-style lightsaber. Picking it up, he caressed the handle thoughfully and continued after a moment, "But it might as well be. Duty calls...the Jedi are gathering."

The fear in Mirax's eyes turned to fire, "You're not going without us. I know I can't stop you from going, but you're not going alone."

Smiling, Corran leaned down to kiss his wife, "I know, hon. Get the kids ready while I prep the Skate and Bloodstripes.

Just hours later the Pulsar Skate lifted off from Corellia carrying the whole of the Horn family. Within it Corran stood by his X-wing, Corellian Bloodstripes, with his astromech Whistler, ready to launch if they were attacked. He knew it was all about to start again. The fighting, the killing, the pain. And much as he wished it were otherwise and that he could stay with his family, he knew it was his responsibility to defend the innocent through it all. At thirty five he was still young and vigorous, surprisingly so for a powerful Jedi Master and former Grand Master. But then few Jedi of his era had ever lived to old age. Indeed, he could remember only a handful of his peers still to be living when the CIS takeover had scattered the Order. They would be lucky to find even half of those to be still living. Well, it was time to validate the sacrifices of his peers, his friends, and the several Padawans who had died under his tutelage.

Two days later, following a course Corran layed out without explanation, the Skate jumped into the Kamino system. "Are you sure this is the place?" Mirax asked, "It's not even on any maps!"

"This is it. Valin, you and your sister get buckled down. I'm going to launch the Bloodstripes and lead us in." Horn turned and left the bridge. He made a single stop before going to his fighter though. Pausing by a smugglers compartment, he opened it and donned the gear inside. He then continued on his way, his green Corellian Master Jedi robes now swirling about him in the old familiar pattern while the weight of his lightsaber on his hip was like the touch of an old friend.

After several minutes of searching, Corran found his goal: an abandoned-looking complex rising above the tossing waves to stand proudly under the beating rain. Though he'd never gotten the chance to see the complex with his own eyes, it was part of the information he'd learned about upon becoming a Council member. Making sure his weapons were off, Horn made his approach. As he did so he opened himself to the Force as he hadn't in years, allowing his power signature to pulse his presence and joy as a greeting and a promise of peaceful intentions.

The Corellian Master overflew the complex once, then directed the Skate to the largest landing pad. Once Mirax was down he settled down just before the Skate's nose. Climbing out of the cockpit, he pulled his hood over his head against the rain and settled the last item from his satchel beneath his robes and against his skin. It was an oddly shaped box of circuit and electronics that flowed a serene emerald hue. It was a holocron, the one he'd made years ago as a teaching tool. It was good that it was not lost, for without it if he were to die the knowledge of creating holocrons would die with him.

As Horn stood before his fighter the doors before him opened, the lights within reducing the figure in the doorway to a dark silhoutte with shining silver hair. Corran grinned and spread his arms, "Anden! It's good to see you, my friend. You must have some Corellian in you to have survived these ten years too."