At the base of the statue Farand Ola stood, clutching a basket overflowing with Qymaen petals. They wafted in the warm breeze inside the temple, catching the sunlight glinting here and there.

It beheld the form that had once been Shelèlan, the Grey General. In one hand he held a javelin, the barbed nose of a swordfish, in another a bouquet of earthen peppers, and in another a wooden flute. It had been a weapon in life.
In the fourth hand he held nothing but an open hand as if to accept this small offering.

Petals, flourescent and many-pathed in Farand Ola's vision, fell to the fertile holy ground it had planted their bodies in. They were not Farand Ola's to give, but the entity that lurked in every patch of soil on Mother Kalee's property. Instead, the philosophlanger was the litter-bearer who planted the seeds and watched them grow, watered the little cracks in the ground where they were planted.

Planetary warfare was as arrogant as assuming as an offering of petals, Farond Ola thought. Why, a planet ought to be covered in invaders at least! A few thousand could hold a world...

Farond Ola planted the basket down on the base of Shelèlan's image, next to the pickled bodies of several small animals and endless plates of incense.


Hehe, finally I make another General Grievous fanart.