Remnants of Autumn

[Mr. Feint]

The Planet Cathar, eight years ago...

The starship descended through the heavens. Clouds and wisps of dust parted to allow it passage. The starship itself was unique. Very unique. In appearance it achieved the look of an aquatic animal. Streamlined, elegant, and smooth. There were no corners or sharp edges. Only curves. The hull was a soft bronze color upon which the image of the wastelands of Cathar below was mirrored. There was no obvious portals or windows. The ship seemed quite solid with no cracks in it's surface and no obvious external weaponry. It looked plane by most standards, but it's elegant build make it stand out, especially as it descended toward the barren landscape of Cathar.

The ship continued along high above the ground moving toward the planet's equator. There, by the ocean, existed a city, a great city, the city of cities here on Cathar. There were not many cities on Cathar, as the Cathar people prefer to wander in tribes as nomads, never settling anywhere for too long. But Culture always has it's loopholes. The cities are filled with the females of the felinoid Cathar race. The females run businesses and raise children while the males roam wildly. It was a dangerous place to be, but the alien ship moved ever closer to it nonetheless.

The proper procedures were taken care of before the ship landed within the outskirts of the city, where all foreigners were forced to land. No aliens were allowed to land within the city should they be ill in nature and seek the lives of Cathar. The alien ship descended toward the packed dirt that served as a landing pad. The belly of the aquatic animal split, seems appearing where there had been none, and struts appeared. The ship set down on those struts, the low hum of it's engines cutting out as it touched down. The starboard side of the ship opened, the perfect side suddenly sprouting a portal from which a railed landing ramp descended. Figures appeared at the top, two humanoids dressed in black.

The pair descended down the ramp and stood at the bottom, gray eyes searching the surrounding area. Satisfied if what they saw, whatever that may be, one of the men nodded his head toward the open portal and a third man stepped out. This man differed from the others. His clothing, while still black, was more regal and elegant, made of finer cloths and silks. His dark hair was slicked back professionally and his eyes were the color of obsidian. He wore black slacks, a black vest, a white undershirt, a black overcoat, and a white tie. His hands were gloved with fine black leather and he held a thin black cane with a rounded chrome handle in one hand.

Black eyes looked about for a moment before the man traversed the landing ramp and stepped out on the harsh dirt of Cathar. There was nothing but decimated landscape on three sides, and the city on the forth. Truly this was a troubled planet. They could feel it.

And they could feel something else. They could feel the corruption.

Without word or gesture, the black-eyed man headed off toward the Cathar city. It did not take long before he was walking the rocky streets of the outskirts. It was much longer before he was walking more civilized roadways. All around him walked the tall felinoid Cathars. All females and children, no men in sight. They all looked down on the black-eyed man, some even reacting distastefully as they hissed at him. But they were all ignored. The man looked straight ahead, never looking to the left or to the right. His cane clicked along the ground like a third foot. Each time the cane tapped the ground it rattled slightly from within, but such was hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it in the first place.

Mr. Feint, High Chronicler of the Guardians was a master of history and lore. He knew well the history of his people since the invention of records, and beyond. Before written records existed there were tales and stories told around campfires at night and in the dead of the night where they oppressors could not hear them. Those stories were passed from father to son, brother to brother, neighbor to neighbor. The details become shrouded in legend and covered with the mystic. But most had survived till they could be properly recorded, and thus history reached as far back to the beginning of life. The Guardians were proud of this fact.

But now he was here, to see that history would never be repeated. A friend and colleague, Mr. Dust, had been sent to Cathar as was customary in those days for a Guardian to be appointed to a planet to search for the beasts of corruption. Such a search should have taken only a few months, but he remained there for far longer then customary, and without explanation. Then he disappeared, and it had fallen to Mr. Feint to find the truth in the matter. If he had fallen in battle then the likely hood of corruption was likely. And so it was, he could feel it. Faint, but there. He could follow it like a vornskr follows a scent. It may take him years to follow that trail, but he would find it eventually, that much was sure.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Far out past the Great Dune Sea, farther out than Uruk'Lien even, stood the great obelisks; the border between the grim reality of Cathar and its' superstitious zealotry. None dared to travel past the monuments and into the craggy, rocky landscape of the Vercor Mountains, though it was not uncommon to see alters built by the Shu'Yon trafers, with gifts and sacrifices, left atop them. It was this form of appeasement that the Cathar were more than happy to perform. So deep did their superstitions run that they sought to offer such things to what had long ago become known as the Beast-Gods, the ones who held the mountains up, keeping them from sinking into the sands. That none had seen the Beast-Gods meant little, for there were always the few who ventured past the obelisks. Most were never seen again, and the pitiful few that had returned were raving, maddened creatures, having lost their ability to function.

And so it went for generations, the daily life of Cathar an unending cycle.



* * *


Kyba was certainly not as large nor colorful as the Shu'Yon Outpost that rested in the mouth of the Orani Bay, but for a westward Shu'Yon city, it was well enough sized to be thought of as a proper establishment of civilization. Built up around one of the larger groups of rocky outcroppings that formed the northwest side of the Great Dune Sea, it had the benefit of resting beside one of the few natural wells that dotted the harsher landscape. And as a result, it had become something of a common stopping ground for those who made their journeys to the obelisks. Traders selling perfumes and silks abounded, hoping that those looking for gifts to the Beast-Gods would choose their wares and line their purses.

It was a small enough city that many were content to merely pass through, though well off enough for anyone to try their hand at selling their goods and make a decent enough profit. 'Little Joffa', it was often called. It even had the higher class amenities of the capital, Khai'Arbydos. A small but elegant library, an amphitheatre expertly carved into one of the larger rocky outcroppings, and even well cared for gardens and an artificial waterfall. It was truly a rare jewel of the desert.



She'd come in from the Northlands, her pakka traveling at an easy lope. It was the route she always took when leaving her home in the Vercor Mountains; her Houses' citadel. Best to be safe, and pass the obelisks as far north as possible so that any who chose to follow her would think that she lived close to the northernmost pole. A simple slight of hand, aided by the Force, and she felt safe enough in the knowledge that none suspected what she truly was. And she was, strangely enough, content to live out the rest of her days in just that manner.

The Guardian, Mr. Dust, had let her be. Which suited her just fine. And while it had been two years since their encounter the fight that'd taken place was still fresh in her mind. She thought of it many times over, wondering if others would follow and try to finish his job. But so far none had. Thank the Bloodline.

Her traveling clothes were dusty as she entered Kyba through it's northern gates, and she turned her pakka in the direction of the library. The maze of streets were navigated easily, and groups children played happily around the clawed feet of her mount. They laughed and smiled, recognizing her from her previous visits. She'd always brought them trinkets and toys, and was happy to join in whatever games they were playing. Not quite a local celebrity, but more of an 'aunt' quality that the younger ones flocked to, and the older ones listened to. Even the adults enjoyed her company.

But today's visit was one of fact finding, and the offworlder spoke soft words in the Cathar dialect, words that sent the gaggle of youth away, laughing and giggling.

Through the maze of Kyba she continued, having not noticed the craft on her approach to the city, and the three dark-clad figures that had disembarked from it. So intent on her task was she that her only thoughts were that of what might possibly be held in the library. For if anywhere held the records she hoped to find, than it would be Kyba.

Reigning in the pakka, the woman dismounted with ease and handed the leather reigns over to a stablehand before starting up the steps to the library's arched entrance.

[Mr. Feint]

He paused, stopping in the middle of the busy street, his eyes wandering. He turned his head from side to side, looking, searching. His black eyes looked out into the distance, as if he could see through the buildings around him and out to the dunes in the distance. He continued his optic search for several minutes before his eyes finally stopped and stared off into a single direction.

Without hesitation, he stepped smartly along the street, moving down it at a casual pace. He never rushed anything. Rushing about with a silver sword in one hand and a silver trimmed crossbow with a silver tipped bolt was something he left to the younger men of his species. He was not old, but he considered that kind of juevenile disregard beneath him. He hardly knew where to find a silver crossbow, or even how to use such an item. Never in his life had he even considered himself a warrior. A historian and occasional poet, he hardly touched a weapon unless it was absolutely necessary. He valued wisdom over strength. A well placed word can defeat an empire where a thousand swords would fail.

As he walked he could see arching roof of the library, but it not until he turned the corner at the end of the street that the complete building came into view. Although he would have much liked to stop and admire the building, he was hard pressed for time, so he pressed on. He headed for the stairs of the building, ignoring the tethered beast and the handler tending to it. Only one thing mattered to him, and that was the beast he felt inside the library.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Tucked away in the darkest corners of the library, the woman took her time perusing the age-old volumes. She did not touch, instead allowing her eye to pick out each title; and sometimes lack there-of. It reminded her of her own library back at the citadel - leatherbound tomes and ancient texts. Such a thing was not lost on her, as she appreciated the life held within those leather covers. For within them held a different sense of immortality than most normally thought of. The simple act of taking a pen to paper was enough to allow a person to etch their own mark into history and not be truly forgotten. Unless of course, they wanted to be forgotten.

But she brushed that thought aside. Presently she lifted a hand up, her dust-worn robes sliding from her arm to lodge in the crook of her elbow as she reached out for an untitled book. A simple gold ring adorned a slender finger, and an equally undecorated leather bracer shielded her wrist.

She moved in silence, her own form of reverence for the stories of times past that now surrounded her. Pulling the book from its' place on the shelf, she carefully opened it up. The first page was blank, with the second bearing only a simple title:

Uruk'Lien

Mild curiosity was not enough to persuade her to keep a hold of the book, and she replaced it just as gently as she'd taken it. Moving further back, she continued on in her search.

[Mr. Feint]

Pausing at the door of the library, Mr. Feint glanced down at his shoes, which by now were hardly as shiny as they had once been and were now quite dusty, the buttoms caked with Catharian dirt. Grimacing slightly he knocked the sides of his shoes against the door frame in a vain attempt to dislodge some of the filfth, but it was too stubborn to go without a fight. It would be more properly taken care of when he returned to his ship, where he would be better equipped to handle the situation with a plethora of cleaning tools.

Stepping smartly along, he entered the dark building. The cold, stale air hardly agreed with him, but he ignored the flavor and continued his journey inside. He was instatly faced with a maze of shelves and aisles. A labyrinth without a doubt, and one he was unfamiliar with. He did not let that phase him for a moment. Instead he moved along, choosing the widest corridor of shelves first so that he would have the most room to react should the beast attack. Surely it had detected him by now. How could it not? As Jedi can sense sith and sith sense jedi, so were the lives of Guardian and Lupine entwined. Unless this particular beast was physically or mentally handicapped.

Now curiousity spurred him on.

Light filtered into the dark library here and there through small windows set high in the walls near the ceiling. Using that light as his guide, he pressed on as he moved between shelves and down aisles. The language of the Cathar was lost on him. He might be in the fictional section or the science section and he would be none the wiser. All he could do was glance at the words he found on the aisles or walls and hope for the best. Despite all the twists and turns, he was still getting closer to the beast.

Finally turned and corner and there stood a woman, standing near a shelf of books that looked quite old by any standard. She slipped a book out, glanced through it, and replaced it just as quickly. Clearly she was searching for something, but what? His curiousity was picked. What possibly could a Lupine be searching for?

"What is it you seek, beast?" His voice peirced the silence of the library. Not a whisper in any way, but quite hard to hear all the same. At the same time, his voice seemed to come from multiple directions at once, a slight echo being created as a result.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

Quite taken by surprise, s'Il managed to keep any outward appearance of being startled hidden. So engrossed in her task, she had shut out completely all around her; she'd become so focussed that she'd ignored that small warning bell in the back of her mind. But now she was more than aware of the minor buzzing that indicated the presence of a Guardian. It was not a comfortable, nor settling feeling in the least. For a moment she thought that it was Mr. Dust, come back to try and finish his endeavor of evicting her from Cathar.

But, with a sidelong look at the owner of the voice, it became apparent that this was not Mr. Dust. No, this one was older. He had the look of refinement upon him, of proper attitude and behavior. The black cane he held in hand did not go unnoticed, and she found herself giving him a slight hrmph.

Much like the last time, she would do her best to avoid any sort of physical altercation... if verbal blows were the only thing to come of this, than all the better. She could live with that.

But at the same time, his very presence was disturbing. It was even an annoyance, and the Lupine lofted an eyebrow in his direction. She slowly lowered her hand from its' tracings, letting it fall to her side before moving farther down the aisle; away from him. Distance was a preferable thing as she had no way of knowing this Guardian's strengths, and she didn't have any desire to test those waters.

His voice was strong though, crisp and clear. There was a suredness in it that told her he was used to getting what he wanted.

Blinking, s'Il continued her search, and presently she answered him, her voice quiet in contrast to his, the tone one of mild frustration at having been interrupted.

"What I seek is nothing to concern yourself with, A'kha'ru."

[Mr. Feint]

And so the name calling begins, but he could not say he was not expecting. He called her animal and she called him slave in return. It was almost traditional and cultural for them to exchange such words of ill intent. Such weak insults hardly carried any power anymore. They're true meanings were lost to the sands of time.

"But please, for curiousity sake, could you shed some light on what it is you are searching for? Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

"I do not wish it."

Her answer was given through clenched teeth.

But his presence was unsettling enough, and she let an annoyed sigh escape her lips before turning to face him. Even given the distance between them, the Lupine could tell that he was much taller than her; yet she refused to allow him the satisfaction of seeing any sort of intimidation. She squared her shoulders, angling her head so that she found herself very nearly glaring at him with her blind eye.

The silence between the two was undisturbed, and one could almost cut it with a knife.

Finally, she spoke, her voice low.

"One of your kind has already been here."

[Mr. Feint]

He flinched a little, a simple tweak in his eyes. Nothing more. He moved his cane in front of his body and rested both hands on it, and leaned forward a wee bit.

"Yes, I know. Mr. Dust was lost reported to be on this planet, and has not been seen or heard of since. Curious that he disappeared on a planet inhabited by possibly the last Lupine in existence. Mr. Dust was a friend and informative. So, tell me, what did you do to Mr. Dust? He's not here now, I would know if he was still alive on the planet."

He quite missed Mr. Dust. He had been, as he said, a friend, and a close one. They had known each other as children and grown up around each other. Feint had become a Chronicler and Dust became a Seeker. Yet Feint had always been the first to welcome Dust home when the Seeker returned. There was always fresh stories to hear, information to log, history to write. To him there was no greater joy then filling more pages of the many tomes that fill the Grand Library. Dust had been most instrumental in bringing information from the far reaches of the galaxy. That was, however, until Mr. Dust disappeared.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

She blinked, watching him.

His words - the very sight of him - brought back memories of her battle with the bald Guardian two years prior, and the muscles of her jaw set as if in stone. And again she berated herself; how had she not sensed him?! She should have felt him, would have, if she'd not been so single-minded. But that window of avoidance was gone, and now here he stood, leaning on his cane, his clothes impeccably clean and his features sharp.

She let her eye go over him once more, taking in every detail about him. She could lie; say she'd killed Dust, but that brought with it the possibility that he'd retaliate with physical force. No, she didn't wish for that. Not in a library. Even if the books here held the history of another species, the fact that it held the knowledge of times past was enough for her to consider such a place holy ground.

Instead she decided to test the limits of the Guardian's patience.

"... and if I told you he has gone to the Gate of Souls?"

[Mr. Feint]

He almost found it laughable how greatly she was disturbed by his presence. She did not want him here, did not want him to poke his nose into her affairs, and obviously did not like him mentioning Mr. Dust. How interesting. His feelings toward her were quite different. While his species was technically at war with her's, he did not let himself fall into racial hate. Bad form that. Rather, he remained neutral. He neither hated her nor loved her, nor would he harm her or embrace her. He had read the rise of his people from slavery to creatures of myth, but he had always watched their downward spiral. Consumed by their duty to erradicate the Lupines, they allowed themselves to fall apart internally. They had centered their beings around the destruction of the beasts so strongly that once the Lupine race is erradicated the Guardians would self-destruct with nothing more to hunt, nothing more to protect innocents from, no purpose left. He feared that day.

"Then I would say that Weit-Fällt is a long ways away, and I would also say that there is no reason for Mr. Dust to travel to the Gate of Souls. He would have no purpose to travel to a planet so dangerous that even you beasts fear it. Of course, Mr. Dust has never been a man of rationality, but no. I do not believe you. Why? Because why would you, a beast, ever answer my question? Likely your first answer will be a lie, as will your second and third, and possibly all. Is there truly no room for truth in the mind of a beast? I've had hopes for your race, but if you are the only remnant of your race, then my hopes are ill founded. And I have no patience for these games."

Without waiting for an answer he turned and began to walk away, his cane clicking alone the ground as he walked. He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, "If only you could have children, the race of Lupines may continue to exist. Pity the secret of reproduction has been well kept at best..." He paused and looked off to the side for a moment before looking back at her, "...If you see Mr. Dust again, tell him to come home. Farewell," and then he turned a corner and was gone.

She would not have found him if she looked. The moment he moved out of sight he wrapped the shadows around him as a cloak and disappeared from view. His powers of force created illusions allowed him to disappear physically and mentally. It was like he suddenly ceased to exist. She could not feel him or see him, sense him or otherwise. He made his way out of the library and out into the sunlight, only a slight wavering in the air marking his passage as he returned to where he had left his ship, boarded the vessel, and returned to his cramped quarters aboard the small vessel.

No, she was not worthy, not yet. She needed to learn more of the many lessons of life before she could be entrusted with the all powerful secret, the secret that he should never give. The secret of the survival of both the Guardians and the Lupines. But she may never be ready, and he would have to find another. Are there any others? Perhaps not. The legions of the Guardians are many and the Lupines have been driven to extinction. No, there are no others. She is the last, the last of the tyrannical beasts that enslaved his people, and yet are the key to the survival of his race.

Fate, it would seem, is not without a sense of irony.

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

If his presence had not been enough to completely discourage her, his words very literally made her stagger back. It was as if he'd slapped her. One hand going out to steady herself, the Lupine felt her body sag and she began to hyperventilate. Her hand moving from the shelve to clutch at her chest, s'Il clenched her eyes shut.

Secret of reproduction...

He knew something. Did the Guardians have a cure and withhold it? Did they watch the fall of the Lupines with satisfaction, knowing that they alone held the key? Or did they somehow cause such a thing to happen... she let a gasp of air escape her lips then, as the object of her search was instantly forgotten.

So unlike Dust, this Guardian it seemed did not wish to fight. Did he wish to gloat over her then? Catch a glimpse of her before she, too, eventually died? For a brief angry moment the Lupine thought of this; that others even after this one would come to see the last of their enemies before she herself passed on?

Her eyes opened, and she looked upon empty air.

She stumbled forward then, one hand outstretched as if she could bring him back from the intangible with mere thought.

"Wai- " The Lupine reached outward with her mind, and too another staggering step; again she had to steady herself using the bookshelf at her side. It was as if he didn't even exist! As if he'd never been standing there and talking with her...

A sort of panic descended on her then, a desperation bourne of the need to see him once more. He knew. Knew the why her people had fallen!Was this some last act of cruelty that he was inflicting? Holding the key that he knew she wished more for than anything else? s'Il would have given up the Force if she knew that it would give her the answer.

And now he was gone, out of sight and out of her mind. She stretched further outward with her mind, hoping beyond hope that she would be able to sense him; nothing.Not even a whisper of his presence. Another step turned into another, and soon she was barreling out the doors of the library. She passed beneath the great stone arches, stumbling as she sidestepped a Cathar on his way in.

Down the stairs and into the dusty street, the Lupine still sent out tendrils of the Force, and still recieved no indication of him whatsoever. Her maddened rush took her through the city, through crowds of natives, and past those who called for her attentions to buy some trinket or food. If it was possible she would have traversed the rooftops, but the farther she went from Kyba's center, the fewer homes and structures became.

With one of the gates looming ahead of her, s'Il pressed onward. Her gait was quick, and she moved with a jerkiness that showed all around her the fear she had; the fear of losing... a Guardian? Absurd. Her ancestors would no doubt have scoffed at her. But her ancestors were also not in the position that she was! They were not the last of their people! Her well-worn desert robes flowed irregularly in her hurried wake, and her burnoose still remained loose about her neck as her blonde/brunette hair fell to barely touch the covering's folds - she'd had it cut a few months before, as its' length had become cumbersome.

Just outside the gate, she stopped. Had he come this way? She'd no way of knowing, and that was what fueled the single step forward once more, toward the small ship that sat in the distance. But she pulled back sharply. Perhaps he'd not left the city yet? In which case he would need to leave the through the gate she now stood beneath.

Still standing, s'Il could only watch the small ship. Her heartbeat quickened, yet she didn't move forward, and another thought entered her mind.

What if this was simply a cruel joke?