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From the Personal Journal of Vall Juridian, Jedi Knight
Entry Date: 21:8:03 BBY (Five months into the war)
Location: Outer Rim – Felucia Campaign
The Council calls Felucia a “strategic holding.” I call it a fever dream.
The air chokes you with pollen. Plants tower like durasteel spires, but every leaf and vine hides something poisonous or hungry—or both.
Our campaign here has dragged for weeks. The Separatists keep feeding reinforcements through hidden hyperspace lanes. For every droid battalion we dismantle, another seems to appear from the mist.
Ridge is gone. Not a heroic charge, not a grand sacrifice—just a sniper’s bolt through the visor while he was scanning the treeline. Nurek didn’t say a word, just dragged the body back to camp. The men buried him beneath one of those massive fungal growths. I said the Jedi Code over him, but the words felt hollow in my mouth.
I meditate when I can, but the Force here feels… strained. As if it too is suffocating in this place. I used to believe every battle had an end. Now, I’m not so sure.
—Vall Juridian, Jedi Knight, Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic
