A Jedi's Weapon

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It was about time the girls met.

The Imperium's campaigns had left Cedric with far too little time to focus solely on training. As much as he wished to spend all of his time teaching the next generation of Jedi Knights, time simply would not permit. He had finally found a rare few days to devote to his students, and had called for each of them to meet him at a camp site he'd built on Tython. The site was in the middle of a forest clearing, far off from any remnants of civilization.

The camp was a spartan thing. A singular brown hide tent had been pitched, and a campfire burned a few feet in front of it. Cedric sat upon a few large stones he'd gathered, poking a small rabbit-like creature's body through the flames.

This would be as much a trial as it would be a lesson. He hoped the two of them were ready for it when they arrived.

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Wrenarias"]

 

[Wrenarias]

Wren's approach to the campsite was a quiet one, soft footsteps barely disturbing the grass as she walked. The jacket she wore wasn't zipped up, but her hands were stuffed into her pockets. It was a casual demeanor, but she was still on alert.

She paused at the edge of the clearing, sweeping her lavender eyes over the sparse camp. There wasn't anything frivolous or impractical that she could see, which she respected. Her thumb idly tapped against the side of her lightsaber through her jacket and she pursed her lips.

When she caught sight of the small creature that Cedric was roasting over the fire, an amused smirk formed on her lips and a soft chuckle escaped her.

"If I'd known you were making dinner, I would have brought something to go with it." She said, stepping into the clearing.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Song stuck in her head​

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Somehow treading upon Tython and still not exploding with each step was miraculous to the girl. Being here, amongst an Ashla-rich environment and being able to control portions of it was still outstanding to the previously ignorant. What was further outstanding, was how positively prehistoric parts of this planet were. She'd never been in a camp before, and roasting something over a spit and flames was...foreign to the lab rat herself. Having spent years operating speedy machinery amidst the Alliance's fleet, most meals were served over a tray in a mess hall.

So, when she arrived at the camp, her first reaction was to peel her lips back and knot her brows in surprised disgust. It was so smol. And...crisp. And it still had a face.

Oh my god it had a face. And little, smoking whiskers.

On Tython, did a Jedi have to go full religious and offer some sort of spiritualistic homage to the creature, releasing its spirit and making sure all parts of it were used? She supposed its fur could have maybe made a loin cloth.

Her arrival was timed pretty accordingly with [member="Wrenarias"]' -- enough to catch the delivery of the snicker and sarcasm, which she easily piggy backed off at [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s expense.

"Yeah, like the main course."

 

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Cedric peered up at the two of them, his eyes narrowed with faux annoyance as he waved the stick around, burning fur flying about as it came free of the corpse. "Oh, this one is mine. You're both going to have to get your own." He leaned forward, rolling it through the fire once again.

Neither of them knew it, but there was a place of great history not far from here. The Jedi Order had once called it The Forge, a place where students of the Force had come to craft their lightsabers since the dawn of the order. it was a place of grand tradition, and should its trials be passed, Loske would build her weapon, and Wren would learn what wielding the blade of a Jedi truly meant.

"Hard to catch 'em though. They're quick," he added, pulling the seared beast away from the flame. He gave it a few moments to cool, before biting off a rather large chunk from its back. Surprisingly good, as most of the beasts on Tython tasted.

"Wren, this is Loske. Loske, this is Wrenarias," he gestured toward each of them, "Run into any troubles on the way here?"

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Wrenarias"]

 

[Wrenarias]

"So, you're the one I've heard so much about." Wrenarias replied to the introduction with another amused chuckle. "Nice to finally have a face to go along with the name."

She made her way over to the fire, standing across from Cedric with her hands still idly stuffed inside her pockets. While her stance seemed relaxed and rather nonchalant, she was still keenly aware of her surroundings. Every so often her head would turn a fraction towards a sound, or a shadow that moved out of the corner of her eye.

"No trouble." The twi'lek answered with a slight shrug her shoulders, the gesture caused her prosthetic lek to slip free from the lazy coil around her throat. "Though with you here, I'm sure that's bound to change."

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She'd been ready with an enthusiastic handshake, but tentatively withdrew when [member="Wrenarias"] spoke first after being introduced to each other's names. The stance between them was too awkward now to try and do any sort of introductory palm dance. A quizzical expression flashed over her features at the suggestion of so much. She gave a darting glance in [member="Cedric Grayson"]'s direction by way of seeking explanation, but it looked nothing more than a dance of shadows from the firelight. Now she was curious what type of reputation proceeded her. It could go...any direction, really. But it would be selfish to explore that subject so she offered a knowing smile and a neutral "Pleasure to meet you, as well."

There was the opportunity for another attempt to joke about all the dangers conquered to get to this camp, but another thing she elected not to pursue. She only shook her head. No Flesh Raiders. Speeder bikes were operating as intended. Everything seemed fine. A few scratches from the forest, but otherwise, nothing to report.

There hadn't been too much explanation for drawing the Twi'lek and the Kiffar out there, but there'd been enough shared to know she should be travelling with her kyber crystal. The one usurped from the skull of the former Sith Emperor. She was partial to walk through its memories, but truth be told, she was still feeling a little haunted from that run in under Coruscaunt. It wasn't an image one could easily shake.

 

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Cedric had debated privately whether or not to bring the padawans to the Forge.

It was an ancient place, one bathed in old rites and held to almost religious importance by the Jedi Order. Only the most worthy could undertake its trials, and he had worried as to whether or not it was wise to go to such a hallowed place. Faith had one out over illogical reasoning, fortunately, and he'd called them to meet with him not terribly far from the holy site. His gaze passed between Wren and Loske, giving Loske a slight shrug as she gave him a curious look.

If they were to be the Jedi that the galaxy needed, then they would need to pass whatever trials were required. The Force had brought them all together, and Cedric could only rationalize that it had the pretense of destiny. They wouldn't fail - he had faith.

"Troubles tends to find me, guilty as charged," he set the roasted animal down, hands held up in mock surrender. "I wanted the two of you together for this. There is a place not far from here called The Forge. it has been used by Jedi Padawans to construct their lightsabers since the beginning of the Order," he explained, "Loske, you require a blade. Wren, you have one, but you need to learn what it truly means to wield one. The Forge will teach you both," he paused, adding, "Likely me as well."

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Wrenarias"]

 

[Wrenarias]

That was something of a surprise to Wrenarias. She'd know the weapon given to her by her former mentor held significant value to the woman, but she never knew how involved the process truly was to crafting a lightsaber. Kelina never bothered to explain it. Through meticulous reverse engineering, Wren managed to teach herself the mechanical aspects of putting the weapon together; but she knew there was something missing. She just couldn't put her finger on it. What else had been omitted during her training, Wren wondered.

There was still so much for her to learn.

She didn't even know what she didn't know yet. Her tongue pressed against the inside of her cheek as her expression shifted somewhat. Tython left her feeling entirely out of her depth.

Clearing her throat, the twi'lek pulled herself out of her wandering thoughts and a warms smile spread over her features.

"I'm ready to learn." She said simply, nodding once.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

This seemed like a rational place to start, given the explanation on where Loske and [member="Wrenarias"] had needs. Consciously, she thumbed the crystal in her pocket and gave a curt nod. It was deceptively cool for the tremour of excitement that coursed through her sinews.

Finally. Finally she was going to get a glowing stick. The first time she'd landed on Tython, she'd been embarrassed to say she didn't have one when the witch asked if she did. She assumed she would have been more useful if she'd had one that day. There were many components to being a Jedi, she was learning that, but the sabre was something so innately distinctive. There was a sense of incompletion without one.

"Great." The enigmatic building was apparently out of visual range, because all she could see immediately was the other Padawan, [member="Cedric Grayson"], and that really small meal. Did they have to eat, or could they get right to it? Obviously, brimming with anticipation if she was willing to forgo a morsel. "Are you, uh, taking that to go then?"

 

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Cedric gauged both the padawans' responses as he finished up ripping the best meat from the beast's bones. When he finished, he lifted to remains a few meters into the air with the Force, and hurled them off deeper in the forest. Nothing would go to waste, and he had little desire to have scabengers foraging around the camp in his absence.

"Figured I'd donate," he dusted his hands off, and scooped his cloak off of a nearby tree branch. The cowl slid in place as naturally as if it were part of his body - Cedric enjoyed addorning himself in full Jedi regalia. "It's a bit of a walk, but I wouldn't dare use speeders. There are still some savage flesh raiders running about, and using a machine feels...not-so-holy." He gave the two of them a shrug.

Another gesture of telekinetic will killed the fire, and Cedric began to walk, taking a direct path through the heavy forest. "This place, the Forge, it is holy to the Jedi. To carry a weapon created here is to wield a blade blessed by the ancestors of the Jedi. It's far more of a spiritual affair than simply crafting a lightsaber in your garage." He explained. "There will be trials. I'll assist you on them as best I can, but they are your alone to pass."

The cryptic words stopped there.

"Tell me, how do each of you interpret the living force?"

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Wrenarias"]

 

[Wrenarias]

Cedric's reverence for this place was palpable, but Wren wasn't entirely sold on the 'holy' premise. Worship was not something that enticed her. The Force felt more connected than that, as if it was an integral part of her very soul. Perhaps that was closer in line with what he meant.

His question gave her pause and her brow furrowed slightly in thought, considering her answer for a few moments.

She glanced to the padawan that lingered in the clearing nearby -- Wren still did not consider herself as such yet -- and wondered what her response would be. Having just met the woman any real conclusion was impossible to make, so she forced herself to vocalize her own thoughts on the matter.

Both her hands idly fiddled with the lower portion of her organic lekku, the gesture oddly similar to a human woman toying with her hair. "Well... I guess it feels something like tangled ball of yarn. Everything is connected in someway, and has a pull on the world around it. Not sure if that makes sense out but... yeah. Tangled ball of yarn."

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Folks were strangely good at painting word pictures with how the interpreted a living thing. It wasn't as easy a question as what does this wine taste like? or what colours are in that sunset? But those that could feel The Force seemed to have a knack for being able to articulate it in a strangely pleasant way. "A tool, to be useful and manipulated." It was a bit, crass, her description. She inherited that from her paternal donor, the maternal version was much more ethereal in...everything. Not a practicality the pilot could indulge.

This felt weird. The three of them walking together to some place where trials were bound to happen. It was evident both [member="Wrenarias"] and herself knew [member="Cedric Grayson"] on their own accord, but as a trio there was a distance betwixt them. Particularly between the learners. The Force was one thing, but as a conclusive whole, Loske always preferred level of camaraderie to be established. Something she'd even seek to hijack during briefings with new Wraith Squadrons -- flying into the unknown with a group of rag-tag hot shots was dangerous. Wrenarias and Cedric weren't hot shots, persay, so what made them tick?

Even random collective mercenary groups got an introduction, and a descriptor. This is so-and-so, the muscle. This is so-so-and-so, the technopath. Everyone had a role.

Whelp, may as well start somewhere. Do a little get-to-know.

"When did you first realize you were Force sensitive, Wrenarias? Was it expected?"

 

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Cedric listened to each of them, and found the differing answers curious. Wrenarias's viewpoint was almost rustic. It bespoke of her as a person - Loske's was just as telling, though there was a coldness to the description that surprised Cedric. To describe the Force as a tool was to see it in a similar vein to the Sith, though there were some Jedi with a lack for spiritual senses.

It wasn't worth worrying over.

He could tell easily enough what Loske was intending. Rather than continue to try and impart some knowledge, the Jedi Master stepped a bit to the side, giving the two women a bit of space so that he might interject only when he felt it would be useful. Building a rapport was important, and if they were both going to learn under him, they needed to trust one another.

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Wrenarias"]

 

[Wrenarias]

There were few things in life that made Wrenarias truly uncomfortable, but talking about herself was one of them. She was never any good at it and she was unsure of how thorough of answers people were seeking. Vague responses were a natural defense that she'd established over the years, something she struggled to avoid giving now. Her lips formed a thin line and her brow furrowed. Really, it should have been a simple answer consisting of only a few words; but she recognized that Loske was attempting to get to know her.

She cleared her throat, rubbing the back of her neck as they trio walked.

"My family knew something was different with me when I was very little, no one really knew what to do with me. So... needless to say it wasn't expected. I didn't learn I was Force Sensitive until much, much later." She explained with a wry smile. "What about you?"

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

That was a semi-expected story. Apparently Forcies were notable from others, and as [member="Cedric Grayson"] had said previously, often in their childhood. It was a straightforward explanation and an acquiesce to the attempt to build a semblance of rapport.

Of course [member="Wrenarias"] the question flipped back to her. She should have expected it, but verily couldn’t point to a distinct moment when she knew. It seemed everyone else did before she did. So, she elected to go with the most distinct story, one that would at least bring some levity to the approaching trial situation.

“Only really recently have started to fully realize.”

Okay, story time!

“Well, this is more a Force-forward species trait, but once upon a time, a couple of years ago, I was at my friend’s droid shop,” location withheld “And I’d agreed to help her with a delivery so she didn’t have to do any work on this uh... marital assistant droid someone had ditched on her porch.

So, was hoisting this droid along to my ship and suddenly,” she snapped her fingers for emphasis on how instantaneous the transition had been “I was basically mentally yoinked to an interaction between the couple that had broken the droid in the first place, and where scheming to no longer be responsible for it. Before they’d dropped it off. Like a historic adventure. Turns out it’s something called psychometery, but that’s the first instance that comes to mind. It was pretty disorienting. Haven’t really been fully oriented ever since.” She smirked at the last bit, it was partly untrue but an easy enough comment to make to break down any hesitation on prowess.

 

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There was an awkwardness to the exchange that Cedric expected, though it still made his skin crawl a bit. He'd never been one to enjoy the awkward as others did - it was why he avoided small talk; preferred getting down to business. He was more than happy to stay out of the conversation for now. From the way Wren spoke, and their conversation back on Odessen, he suspcted the Twi'lek was not too keen on divulging her past. Loske had no such hang ups, and immediately went into a story he himself had never heard before.

A brow was lofted, and little more.

"My dad told me I'd grow up to be the god-king of our homeworld when I was six; it was an interesting way to learn of the Force" he added, a hint of good humor to his voice as he decided to chime in. "Needless to say that didn't work out the way he'd expected." Cedric snickered as they continued on.

Tython's life watched them from the underbrush. There were beasts in these woods, but the calming presence of a Jedi Master and two similarily aligned companions abated their predatory instincts. They only stalked along and watched, endlessly curious.

[member="Loske Matson"], [member="Wrenarias"]

 

[Wrenarias]

"Hmm." The twi'lek made a politely interested sound in her throat as Loske explained the unique trait she possessed. She'd been considering asking a few follow up questions when Cedric interjected into the conversation that he would have been a god-king. The casualness in which he tossed the information was startling.

Wren blinked a few times, glancing between the padawan and the master, a brow arched ever so slightly. Once again, she felt the uneasy churn in her chest, as if there had been some sort of mistake in her being here. She wasn't anyone special and she certainly didn't have any useful special skills or come from prestigious family. Maybe it was some sort of joke?

Her gloved fingers flexed, hidden away inside the pockets of her jacket.

"Is that what the Imperium is for then?" Wren asked curiously.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Loske Matson"]

 

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"Definitely." Cedric deadpanned as they continued onward. He let that sit for a few long seconds before adding, "Buuut not so much. I decided to forge the Imperium to bring the Light back to the core. It's been under the Sith boot for far too long, and the first step in turning back the tide is redeeming the center of the galaxy." There was far more to it, but that was a simple summary of things. He'd have to break things down more effectively for Wren in the future.

"We just want to make things make sense again. End the violence." He added after a few moments of thought. He sounded quite tired as he spoke those words, though it quickly faded as the forest gave way to a large open field. This spot was dangerous as it was entirely out in the open, but they had no other option save for pushing onward.

Cedric made a point to stay a few paces behind the two women, just in case one of the beasts that stalked them tried something.

"All feels like a world away here on Tython. It's so untouched," he gestured toward a large, pristine lake at one end of the clearing. "You can almost forget the galaxy's been in a state of near constant warfare for the past two decades."

[member="Wrenarias"]

 

[Wrenarias]

At the edge of the clearing, Wren paused for a brief moment to take in the surroundings. It was beautiful, to be sure, but it was also exposed. Her eyes narrowed somewhat, sweeping over the rolling field, the tall grass swaying gently in the breeze. A small part of Wren wondered what it would be like to appreciate the tranquility of such a place once more. Instead, her mind registered a battlefield and how the pristine lake could be used as a natural barrier to trap ground forces and surround them. It would be a bloodbath. Her nose wrinkled slightly, almost as if she could smell the coppery stench already.

In fact, the battle where the sith lord and his apprentice descended upon Wrenarias and Kelina hadn't been so different from this place. Vivid, traumatic images of gore and death flashed in her mind's eye. Years of battle experienced in an instant. Blood soaking into the grass, screams in the distance, the distant boom of artillery...

She blinked and the swaying grass of the field filled her vision once more.

A bird chirped in a nearby tree.

Peace returned.

Wren expelled a soft breath, letting the tension roll off of her.

"Yeah... almost." She murmured softly.

[member="Cedric Grayson"]
[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

More focused on the conversation, and asserting an attempt for some more rapport, Loske was fairly ignorant to the surrounding potential threats to the trio. She was by no means a Lorridian, like some of her dear friends, but she’d asked enough questions of them to be a little more in tune to minutia inflections and body language. Between the trio there was a level of stiffness that wouldn’t have been there if they were more familiar - that being said, it had been under an hour and the stage was set rather ominously with the potential of The Forge. She decided to let it rest and roll with the ebb and flows of natural interactions.

they pressed on, staggering their walk to [member="Wrenarias"] and herself at the forefront and [member="Cedric Grayson"] a handful of paces away. One could have made a cheeky remark about checking the lasses out but it would have been lost. The distance was likely for a far more practical reason.

Their gait relaxed and altogether slowed to a stop when they broke from the canopy of trees and observed the clearing. Tython, for all its history and complexities, was inarguably beautiful.

Cedric’s words had different affects on his listeners. Loske seemed to agree, and revisit the idea that there were particularly insular planets. And they seemed to exist in a vacuum because sentients prioritized sentiment associated with that planet. Tython, Coruscaunt, Korribaan....they were all rocks. Great big rocks. And yet, attachment forged wars over them. More rocks would be ignorant of war if sentients weren’t so precious about them.

Wrenarias took a serious pause. Unable to restrain herself, Loske reached out as if she’d touch the Twi’lek’s wrist, but stopped when she realized it was concealed in the woman’s jacket pocket. “You okay?”