Private Buried Temptation

[Sev Pitborn]

Tatooine
Outer Rim, Confederate Space
Mos Espa Spaceport

​

The desert heat was oppressive. The kind of heat that made you feel as if you were standing under a monolithic magnifying glass or inside a giant kiln. The kind of heat you could feel in your bones. There was no escape from that harsh reality on this lonely desert world. This celestial orb, tortured by two raging suns, was home to many mysteries. The planet had been seen as an irrelevant backwater for as long as history cared to remember, yet it always seemed to spawn important people and events like a sweltering womb of fate. After all, the planet had been home to both Anakin and Luke of the fabled Skywalker family. The exploits of that clan had changed the course of galactic history some 800 years ago, and yet they both started here. A slave and a moisture farmer, at the mercy of this great desert, like all others unfortunate enough to call this rock home.

It was these ancient mysteries that had called the young Jedi Knight Sev Pitborn to this far-flung rock. He had come pursuing rumors and whispers. Sev had spent countless hours pouring over texts, datapads, and holocrons in the archives aboard Peace. Many texts had mentioned this desert world, in relation to The Force. Despite its outer visage of irrelevance, Tatooine was home to many powerful and sacred sites. Countless great Jedi had passed through this planets unforgiving deserts and braved its stinging dust storms for one purpose or another. Sev had followed them, chasing rumors of an ancient temple, hidden somewhere amongst the dunes and cliffs. The temple had allegedly been home to an ancient Jedi enclave, during the time after First Jedi Purge, thousands of years ago. According to the ancient texts, the Old Sith Empire had discovered the forgotten enclave and the Jedi within, slaughtering them to a man and steeping the temple in an unholy darkness.

Sev had come to discover this ancient place and bring its secrets back to his budding order. He moved through the crowded streets of Mos Espa, in search of a place to quench his thirst and ask around. He came across an old cantina, that seemed to be bustling with activity. He entered, his face concealed by his hood. Sev wore loose-fitting robes, purpose-made for the desert, and a cloak made of light, silken fabric, perfect for keeping the merciless gaze of the Twin Suns from toasting his skin. Beneath the cloak a scarf was wrapped around his neck, ready to be pulled over his face in the event of a dust storm.

The Cantina was bursting with patrons, the sounds of their conversations melding into the familiar hum of an overcrowded bar. Aliens of every species mingled around the crowded watering hole. Sev approached the bartender, a Duros, who ignored him for a few moments before finally approaching and greeting him. "What's your poison human?" The alien asked in his strange language, looking impatiently at the hooded Jedi.

"Water and information." Sev said as he placed a Confederate Credit chit on the bar. The alien bartender swiped it up and pocketed it. "What do you want to know human?" The Duros replied as he slid a tall glass of ice-cold water across the bar to Sev. Sev took a long sip from the glass, savoring the crisp liquid before speaking again.

"I'm here looking for some... ruins. I've heard these some old Jedi Temple hidden out in the desert, it interests me. Who do you know that can help me?" Sev cut straight to the point, not wanting to waste any more time in this hive of scum and villainy. The alien paused to think, obviously puzzled by the question. "I don't know a damn thing about Jedi or Temples... but there is a strange hermit who lives out in the Mospics, a Tusken. People say he helps folk in need and that he moves through the desert like a ghost. If anyone knows anything about some hidden Jedi Temple, it's him" The alien seemed to trail off before getting back on task. "Now do you want a real drink or what?"

Sev simply waived the bartender off, finishing his water and pausing for a moment, reflecting on this new intel. Sev knew he had no other choice but to venture into the mountains and find this mysterious, friendly Tusken, or his journey to this backwater would be for naught.

Sev spent the rest of the afternoon purchasing supplies for his foray into the desert. Food, a tent, medicine, and other survival supplies and most important of all, water. Sev rented a swoop bike, loaded his provisions, and set off into the endless desert just as the Suns began to crest the horizon, turning the endless skies a brilliant orange. Sev had hoped to avoid the hottest part of the day and travel mostly under the cooling cover of darkness.

He sped off into the endless maw of the desert, towards the dirty brown crags on the horizon...

Nartaga

​

 

[Nartaga]

The mountains of the Mospics seemed to overtake the otherwise wavy and flowing desert near the city very suddenly, as if battling for control of the very space they occupied in an eternal struggle with the sands. There were but a few small rocky outcroppings before it would become hard to navigate through the ins and outs of the rock and sandstone at any pace other than a crawl on a speeder. Anything faster and one would risk flying off the edge of a cliff and into a ravine or cavernous pit in the rock, or losing control and damaging their transport with an impact into the many bluffs of stone and earth.

Nartaga held a hand up to the twin suns as he tried to measure their position in the sky as accurately as one could with the naked eye. Satisfied with his assessment, the Tusken turned to the entrance of his small cave home and closed the makeshift metal door, then covering it with some brush kept nearby to mask it as much as possible while he was away. While he did not have much of anything in the way of value for anyone to steal, there was always the concern that if he left his small cave dwelling unhidden, he would return to find it occupied by a canyon krayt dragon, or any manner of beasts that would gladly take the cozy grotto for themselves. It was not something he looked forward to, especially since it had happened several times before. One of the many downsides to his current social standing, or rather the lack thereof, in his tribe.

Patashu, Nartaga's bantha companion, lifted herself from the sand and slowly walked moved out of from underneath the overhanging cliff nearby that was her own home, shaking her horned head side to side in an excited motion. The Tusken approached the bantha with the comfortable pace of someone with no fear of the creature he had known since he was a child. From his pocket he procured the treat that the Bantha had been shaking her head in excitement for; a piece of dried desert plum. It was one of the few luxuries Nartaga always tried to have when he could find or trade for them, as it was a favorite of Patashu's. There was fewer bonds as deep and sacred as that of a bantha and it's Tusken rider. Any Tusken would be foolish not to treat their mount with the same love and respect one reserves for their kin and tribe.

"That's right, girl." The Tusken spoke softly in his native Tusken tongue as the bantha's tongue went over the treat, tentatively searching for it before grasping around the dried delight, doing a small flourish-like wave in the air as if to brag or show off the fruit she was about to devour, and devour she did. Nartaga brushed the right of her muzzle with a gloved hand, which was soon set upon by the animal's tongue, and covered in a thick coating of saliva while looking for any remaining particles of the dried plum. Disappointed by the lack of any more of the sweet delicacy, the bantha let out a huff as she felt the weight of the saddle and bags be put onto her back. Nartaga tucked his cycler rifle into a simple leather scabbard on the left side of the saddle and then climbed up. Patashu knelt down as the Tusken began to hoist himself upon her, to make the effort easier for her rider. It was time to hunt, and hunting meant she would get to graze upon the sparse but enjoyable plants while Nartaga stalked his prey for today, Womprats.

It would be nearing noon before he was back at his small encampment, two smaller womprats carried upon the back of Patashu behind the saddle which he rode upon. The creatures mouths limbs jostled slightly as Patashu came to a stop and knelt down, the vermin no longer able to control their muscles because of the hole that pierced their skull. Nartaga unpacked the beasts and unsaddled his companion, who slowly jaunted back to her bedding, while the Tusken took the creatures and began the process of skinning and removing the meat from the bones to make into jerky for travel rations. Throwing any pieces of fat, what little there was on such a lean creature, and any otherwise less savory pieces into a bucket to be used for a stew.

With the two creatures skinned and after everything not usable by the Tusken was buried far away from his dwelling, the Tusken went about to make the stew, chopping a few bloddle and tatos and tossing them into a comically large pot over a fire pit just outside his cave home. A thin plume of smoke trailed up into the air. It would be well into the night until the stew was done, and it was something the shaman sentry was looking forward to.

 

[Sev Pitborn]

The Twin Suns of Tatooine had already risen when Sev finally made his way up into the rugged bosom of The Mospic Mountains. The journey through the desert canyon leading to the Mospics had been quick, but once he began his ascent, he had to slow his swoop to a mind-numbing pace. The terrain was rough and unforgiving, a single shift of weight in the wrong direction would see him tumbling off a cliff. The oppressive rays of The Twin Suns began to beat down on him aggressively as they neared their highest point in the sky and the hottest part of the day arrived.

Sev came to a stop on his swoop as the path began to narrow before him. He had come to an area where the mountain path had thinned to a point that even the most skilled and creative rider would be risking death on a swoop bike. Sev dismounted the bike and tucked it under a rocky outcropping as best he could. He detached his pack from the back of the speeder and pulled it onto his back. It contained only the bare essentials. A few days worth of rations, small medkit, a bedroll, a tarp, and water. Anything more would have made the pack too heavy and awkward, hindering Sev's ability to hike in the treacherous mountains. Sev marked the location of the bike on his datapad and continued his journey up into the heart of The Mospics on foot.

He hiked for a time, finding himself crawling along boulders and squeezing into crevices as he climbed in altitude. Luckily the rocky crags covered much of the path in shade, protecting him as the Sun's ruthless rays through the early afternoon, the peak of their daily rage. Sev finally stopped to rest, sitting on a small boulder and removing a durasteel canteen from his bag. He unscrewed the lid and drank some of the precious liquid. It was simply water but mixed with a hydrating electrolyte pack that Sev had purchased, hoping to extend his water supplies as much as he could. In his pack, he carried two more large water skins and he hoped that would be enough and that he wouldn't die of thirst in this high desert. As he rested, he noticed a thin trail of smoke rising into the sky, the first sign of activity he had seen since he left Mos Espa.

The sight reinvigorated Sev, as he screwed the top back onto his canteen and continued in the direction of the smoke. His pace was quickened by the hope of success. He had heard tales of the Tusken Raiders of Tatooine, a culture of savage tribes known to kill moisture farmers and rob passing caravans. Sev hoped that this fire was that of the friendly Tusken he had heard about and not that of a Tusken war band, eager for blood. Sev couldn't imagine a whole tribe living in these mountains, inhospitable as they were, even for Tatooine, but the fact anything survived on Tatooine at all proved that thought foolish. Regardless, this trail of smoke was his best hope and he had little choice but to pursue it.

Sev continued through the narrow pass, his pace quickened as he neared his objective. The smoke grew closer until Sev could smell it. When the smoky odor tickled Sev's nose, he began to slow, attempting to listen and conceal his movements, conscious that whoever had started this fire might not be friendly. Sev continued, reaching out with The Force, attempting to sense for danger, yet finding none. In fact, he sensed something surprising, a being that seemed to radiate The Force, but in a primal, unrefined way. Another Jedi perhaps? The journey crew more interesting as the smoke grew closer...

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

The Tusken recluse stirred the stew with a large ladle that was little more than scrap metal bent to take the shape of a usable utensil. The steam of the nearly completed completed stew wafted up into the air carrying with it the savory smells of the meat and vegetables into the still blazing fire's smoke. He slid the cover of the large pot back over the top, imprisoning the enticing smells in the metal. Nartaga took his gaderffii and used it to move some of the wood apart, to weaken the fire and let the stew finish cooking more slowly. There was something that gave him pause, however. The Tusken gripped his gaffii stick in his right hand and looked around. There was a feeling of another nearby, a presence that he was unfamiliar with. The shaman warrior closed his eyes and let his thoughts empty out of his mind, trying to hone his senses and listen to the winds lifting the grains of sand, reaching out with his mind in search of the unfamiliar entity he felt around him.

The fire crackled as a log shifted and fell onto the rocky bottom of the firepit, causing the Tusken to open his eyes at the startling noise. He had seen it for only a moment, a being nearing his camp. He could not feel the intention of the stranger, but it was easy to guess as the reasons for coming out this far into the mountains were few. Nartaga turned his head to Patashu, who returned his questioning gaze with a bellowing groan, as if making a declarative statement. The sound reverberated through the canyons of the mountain, echoing into the now night air. Nartaga nodded his head in agreement to whatever the bantha had announced, and readied himself to meet whatever visitor was inbound to his small slice of the Mospics.

The Tusken lay his gaderffii standing upright on the stone outcrop that served as the seating around the campfire, covered by a very coarse bantha fur blanket, and lay out two bowls in preparation for company. Nartaga then stood up, taking a longer stick from the fire and using it as a torch to light his way into the mountain paths. He was bereft of gaderffii and rifle, the only weapon on his person the knives he kept on his person and the wooden torch with was alight on one end. Whenever he first met with people in search of him, he knew it best to appear as less of a threat as possible to those familiar only with the reputation of his kind rather. Still, the fire from the burning brand cast eerie shadows against the rock as the Suns were no longer high enough to keep back the darkness.

The sand person took a turn to leave the safety of the canyon that was home to his grotto and move up a small trail to get a better vantage of the area. Raising his torch high to let the feeble flame cast what little light it could muster to the surrounding area. Closing his eyes once more, the Tusken listened for a few moments until he heard the unmistakably heavy footsteps of an Outsider. As there were few reasons for Tatooine natives to be in the Mospics, Nartaga assumed they were either trying to hide, or in need of help. He took out a beaten and rusted spyglass from a pocket within his robes, unfurling the tool and raising it to the eye of his mask, searching the rocks for any sign of life.

It surprised the Tusken when he saw a figure closer to his camp than he had realized, heading straight for the barely visible trail of smoke still in drifting through the air. It had been a risk to make a fire during the day, but the hermit had important reasons for doing so. Folding the spyglass back up and tucking it away, the Tusken let out a shrill whistle from his lips, the abrupt noise breaking the silence of the mountains in an attempt to gain the attention of the stranger. While the feeling he had sensed earlier had made him slightly wary, it did not give him cause to believe this Outsider was here to do him harm. In the Tuskens exile into this part of Tatooine, when someone came to the Mospics they were usually the ones needing his aid. Cutting off the whistle after he was sure the man had heard him, he waved his burning end of his torch in the air and then pointed the flame down towards the canyon where Nartaga made his home before extinguishing the flame with his gloved hand and making his way back to his camp, sitting by the fire to await the newcomer.

Sev Pitborn

 

[Sev Pitborn]

As the Suns again began to set, Sev finally made his way to the outskirts of this mysterious camp. His senses were absolutely tingling as if another Jedi was nearby. Sev was cautious as he continued his approach, listening and reaching out with The Force. He didn't sense The Dark Side, nor the Light. It was something more... primal.

The young Jedi Knight kept his guard up, but his rabid curiosity drove him forward with some recklessness, causing him to make more noise than was advisable. Suddenly, a shrill whistle ripped through the evening air causing Sev to stop in his tracks, turning and looking up at the source. A figure stood on the cliffside above him, waving a torch as if beckoning to him. Sev took that as an invitation, and instantly relaxed. Sev figured if this stranger was hostile that they would have taken the opportunity to strike him down already.

The mysterious figure disappeared over the edge of the cliff in the direction of the smoke, and Sev followed. The Jedi upped his pace, eager to uncover the mystery of this strange individual. A few moments later, he rounded a corner revealing an open area, with a crackling campfire in the middle. At the edge of the bonfire, sat a figure dressed in what appeared to be modified Tusken garb, tending to a large pot of pungent stew. The smell of the boiling brew made Sev's mouth water. He had been traveling for countless hours and was starving, on top of being dead tired from his long hike. Sev slowly and cautiously approached the fire, holding his hands up as a gesture of peace.

"Greetings! My name is Sev, I've come here seeking aid. Maybe you can help me?" Sev paused, the stranger seeming unphased by his greeting, continuing to stir his savory stew.

"Do you speak basic?" Sev asked, hands still raised as he awaited a reply. He dared not to move closer or take any other action. The last thing he wanted to do was offend or disrespect this stranger in what appeared to be his home.

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

It did not take long for the Outsider, which Nartaga recognized as human, or very near-human, to find his way to his camp. Nartaga was sat by the fire, the light radiating from the still strong flames. He turned his head to look upon the being as Sev began to speak, listening carefully to what was said, but not answering immediately. The unchanging expression of the Tusken's mask not giving any indication as to what was going on in the mind behind it. The hermit turned his attention back to his stew for several moments before the tension in the air was cut by his own voice. "Enough to talk." The Tusken said as he gestured with his free hand, the other holding the ladle stirring the contents of the pot hanging over the fire. To the right of Sev was a flat stone on the canyon floor to the left of the sand nomad, where he was now gesturing for the man before him to rest his feet. "Sit." It was not an aggressive or demanding order, but a welcoming invitation for the traveler to join the Tusken so they may communicate on equal levels, neither one above the other.

As Sev would sit, Nartaga would take one of the bowls he had laid out in his hand and carefully scoop a healthy serving of chunky and thick stew with his scrap made ladle. He carefully passed the bowl over to the human, pausing to warn Sev before entrusting the rounded container to him. "Stew. Hot." The bowl came with no utensils, no spoon or fork, nor even a flat piece of metal to coerce the food into one's mouth straight from the bowl. Before the despair of having to wait for the stew to cool so he may use his fingers to shovel the food into his mouth, Nartaga stood up and went to his cave for a moment, the door scraping harshly against the rocky ground as he opened it. After a few moments of some nondescript noises the Tusken exited through the doorway carrying something wrapped in small linen cloth.

Sitting back down in the same spot by the fire, the Tusken set the the cloth wrapped item down and picked up a bowl for himself, scooping up slightly less stew than he had given his guest. The Tusken glanced at the man without moving his head to try to surmise his thoughts through his body language. To him, the man before him still seemed confused as to what was happening, but Sev's eyes were also watching him with baited breath, as if he were walking on egg shells, unsure of how he should act in the nomad's presence. "Calm." Nartaga said, reassuringly, as the Tusken set his own bowl to the side of him, picking up the cloth wrapped item, slowly pulling back the cloth to reveal a loaf of hubba bread, made from the bitter hubba gourd, a staple of the diet of any Tusken. Nartaga carefully split the loaf in half with his hands, and handed half to Sev. Taking his own half of the loaf in one of his hands, he tore off a piece with the other hand, the tough bread giving way with a slight ripping sound. Nartaga used the piece of bread he had torn off to scoop stew from his bowl. He held the piece of food-covered bread up to the mouth of his mask and moved it back and forth from the hole, simulating putting it in. "Eat." The Tusken would not begin eating until after Sev had taken the first bite, a sign of respect for the guest with whom he was sharing this meal with.

After Nartaga felt the tension start to fade from Sev's aura and he could tell the man was slightly more comfortable, the Tusken would finally respond to the greeting Sev had given him. "Nartaga." The sand person said as he touched the center of his chest with a covered index finger. There was a huff from behind Sev's seat, and upon looking behind him he would see the Tusken Bantha, who was busy munching on a molo shrub that was serving as dinner for the animal. Nartaga pointed the same finger at the furry beast to introduce his companion. "Patashu." The female bantha extended out her long, prehensile tongue to mimic the motion the Tusken shaman was making, pointing at the Tusken in response, before bringing it back in and returned to munching on her own meal "Aid a place or person you seek? Not heard of, but help if can." The understanding the Tusken had for Basic was indeed enough to talk, but there were definitely some words missing from his vocabulary. The misunderstanding being that Sev was seeking a person, place, or thing named aid, not knowing that aid was another word for help.

Sev Pitborn ​

 

[Sev Pitborn]

The stranger spoke, his words were simple, yet effective. Sev was glad to find that this strange, yet hospitable Tusken spoke basic well enough to communicate. Sev sat down and took the steaming bowl of stew from the strange man. As Sev took the warm bowl, he bowed his head, a universal gesture of thanks and respect, before muttering a simple reply. "Thank you." Sev said, taking the stew, whisps of steam billowing from the clay bowl and disappearing into the cool night air around it.

Sev then watched as the Tusken produced a loaf of unfamiliar looking bread and split it in half, then taking a bite and demonstrating to Sev the proper method. Sev, starving, didn't hesitate and swiftly ripped off a piece of the tough bread and dipped it into the stew, scooping a hearty serving into the crust and taking it into his mouth. The bread was tough, but the warm, savory stew softened it enough to make the texture pleasant. Sev nodded with approval as he chewed and swallowed the delicious combination, thanking the Tusken stranger again. "Thank you, it's very good." Sev said as he broke off another piece of the bread and fed himself a second bite.

While many offworlders may have turned their nose up at the simple meal, Sev had a very diverse palette from his childhood in chains. To Sev, all food was good food, and his gratitude for every meal never left him. From the time he left his homeworld, he had never tasted anything he didn't love in comparison to the lukewarm nutrient slop of his childhood.

After the mysterious Tusken introduced himself, he asked Sev what he sought, seeming eager to offer his assistance. Sev had already been taken aback by the stranger's kindness, offering him a meal and his guidance without asking for anything at all in return. Sev sensed a primordial innocence as if the man was bound by a code of honor ancient and unyielding, seemingly unaware of the countless fiends who would take advantage of such generosity. Alas, Sev was equally innocent in his intentions and grateful for the stranger's willingness to help.

"I seek an ancient temple. It was built by my kind, The Jedi, many thousands of years ago. It was then destroyed and lost to the sands of time... Do you know of such a place?" Sev cut right to the chase, hoping that this friendly tribesman would have some idea. Sev couldn't even be sure this man knew who The Jedi were, much less where some ancient, ruined enclave may be hidden. The deserts of Tatooine were vast and unforgiving, not to mention greatly unexplored. Yet, The Tuskens were the original inhabitants of this harsh world and her self proclaimed stewards and protectors. If anyone knew the secrets hiding in this great desert, it was one of them.

Sev continued to enjoy the meal as he awaited an answer. He ate quickly, a habit leftover from his childhood, where he was whipped and denied rations if he couldn't finish them in time. It was also an effect of his ravenous hunger. His journey had been arduous and draining, and a warm meal was a welcome luxury. As he awaited a response, he reflected on the kindness of this strange desert wanderer. His willingness to share his seemingly limited resources with a complete stranger and his eagerness to help was striking. It contrasted sharply with the traditional view of the Tuskens as ruthless savages, seeking only to slaughter moisture farmers and harass caravans. Sev wondered what else he would learn from this desert hermit.

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

Nartaga was as still as if he was carved from the rock of the canyon as he watched Sev take the first mouthful of stew and hubba bread into his mouth, and gave his approval. The womprat meat was surprisingly tender for coming from such a lean creature, though it still had the gamey taste of the large rodent like vermin that all moisture farmers despised. Coupled with the vegetables that were chopped into cubes that seemed to explode with soaked up stew juices in one's mouth, it was simple yet very delectable by the standards of what most beings had available. Whatever the occasion was, it would be easy to guess that such fine cuisine was not the norm for Nartaga, given the size of the stew pot which still was hanging from the spit over the firepit, it could be guessed there was enough stew for ten or so other beings. Nartaga began to eat as well, taking careful aim to get the bread and stew into the maw of his mask and into his actual mouth.

The nomad listened intently to the request of Sev, now understanding more clearly what it was the man had come for. Someone must have spoken to him of his services as a guide through the wastes through his tribe's territory, and had recommended the Tusken because of a job he had completed in the past. The Tusken did not know of any place of worship built by Outsiders out in the deserts, but he had heard of the Jedi before. Some of the information he traded for pertained to what he perceived as the Shamans of Outsiders. Getting what little information he had learned from moisture farmers was largely the reason he was in the Mospics in recluse, away from the central territory and encampments of his tribe. "You are Jedi? You create...How say..." Nartaga's voice trailed off as he was unable to think of the word he was searching for in basic. The Tusken said something not understandable in his native language before setting his bowl down next to him. Nartaga held both his arms up shoulder level, before shaking his hands in a jerking motion several times. If it was unclear what he was trying to imitate, the sound effects he added with the motion would definitely make it clear he was trying to mimic force lightning. "Zzap, zzzztt!" The knowledge he had was not just of the Jedi, but of the Sith. Nartaga had not been able to tell the difference between the Jedi and Sith Orders in the few holovids he had seen of abilities of the force using religions, one of which had obviously been of someone using the dark side ability. When one only hears vague stories of things they've never seen or heard of before, there are bound to be mixed up details, misinformation or misunderstandings.

The Tusken nodded his head as if in approval of finally meeting someone like him, regardless of Sev's reaction to him mimicking such a supposedly evil ability and relating it to the Jedi. The Tusken's tone was quickened by a very audible excitement, the hermit eager to meet another like him. This also made it clear to Nartaga why he had felt the presence of the man in the mountains so easily. "Nartaga shaman, too. Can find temple. Need map." The Tusken hurriedly stood up and went back into his cave home, coming back out again with his arms full of rolled up pieces of leather in his arms. The Tusken moved over to the flat stone that Sev was sitting on, kneeling on the ground while he untied the cords around the middle of several of the rolls and began spreading them out one by one and looking over the maps. It was clear his excitement at meeting an outsider shaman was getting the better of him.

Each map appeared to be of different areas of the Tatooine wastes. Each map differed in details, but most appeared to be of different caves and mountains, with symbols for different areas of the map strewn across each one. Some of the symbols were easy to understand, such as the ones for the Tatooine cities which had a drawing of the tall dome-topped spaceports over their location. There were others for water and safety, but then there were symbols that were either only readable by the Tusken, having no meaning to anyone not taught in the sand people's art of cartography.

After going through nearly half of the maps that the Tusken had, he seemed to finally find the one that he had been looking for. It was one of the larger pieces of leather, nearly as wide as Nartaga was tall. The sand person rolled it out onto the sand in front of Sev, in between the Jedi and the firepit, and pointed out the area they were on the map, which was at the very bottom of the map. "We here." Nartaga held an open hand over the map and waved it over the rest of the map north of where he had pointed them out to be, to indicate the next area he was speaking of. "This North Dune Sea. Some East Sea." Again Nartaga's hand went farther, this time going off the map and onto the sands past the leather edges. He waved his hand to designate the area off the map. "Deadlands. Danger. No map have. Bad." The Tusken looked back to Sev to make sure he understood the areas he had spoken of. The Tusken hopped back to his feet and ducked back into his home, returning with a very old looking insectoid leg. The exoskeleton still sturdy and hard. He waved the leg at Sev, as if the man would know what a cliffborer worm leg would do to help find a location on a map.

"Worm travel far. We ask spirit help find temple." The Tusken said matter of factly, as if the Jedi would also know of this method of finding locations. After the Jedi had taken the leg from the Tusken, he gestured for the man to put the leg in his mouth. "Not food. No swallow." With little warning Nartaga took the spearpoint knife from his right boot, holding it in his left hand and waving it at Sev, saying something not comprehensible to the Outsider, the Tusken tongue being a largely unknown language to those not raised among them. While the actions at first glance appeared hostile, upon listening more closely to the grunts and hoots of the Tusken there was a pattern, almost like a melody. It was not beautiful in any way to the ears of anyone not able to understand the Tusken language, in fact it was almost painful to hear.

Lastly, the Tusken would hold out a hand to Sev to join him in front of the map on his knees, holding out a gloved hand palm up towards the night sky to Sev. "Like me. Think of temple, nothing else." The Tusken obviously wanted the man to imitate the kneeling position and outstretched hand, but any observant being would still take notice of the very sharp looking metal knife in the Tusken's other hand.

Sev Pitborn ​

 

[Sev Pitborn]

The Tusken piqued Sev's interest when he asked if he could create what he clearly wished to describe Force Lightning. Had he encountered Sith? Sev shook his head when the Tusken imitated the power. When the Tusken mentioned that he was a "Shaman" too, Sev was even more interested. He could feel The Force radiating from this humble nomad like heat from a flame. Sev wondered what sort of power he held, and how this tribal nomad understood The Force.

He watched as the Tusken produced his stack of maps, digging through them rapidly, clearly searching for one in particular. Sev was blown away by these ancient maps, the amount of knowledge of this desert world stored in them must have been incredible. Even after thousands of years of settlement, the vast majority of Tatooine remained unexplored. The Suns beat down on the planet with such intensity that only a strip of the northern hemisphere was suitable for long term settlement, yet nobody in the wider galaxy knew what treasures were hidden in her vast wastelands. When the Tusken found the map he was seeking, he explained to Sev that he didn't have a map from beyond its border. "Deadlands," the man said. Sev was nervous that his objective rested in this forbidden area and that his guide was preparing to tell him to go pound sand, literally and figuratively.

Suddenly, the Tusken hopped to his feet and disappeared into his cave, only to emerge holding a strange insectoid limb. Sev could feel the force coming off of the object, and could sense that it was something sacred to this hermit. When the man asked Sev to put the leg in his mouth, he was very confused. The Tusken spoke of all of this in such a matter of fact manner that Sev was inclined to trust him. The Tusken took a knee and began chanting in his native tongue, beckoning Sev to join him. For a moment, Sev was nervous. He noticed the menacing knife the Tusken held, but again assumed that if the Tusken meant him ill will, he would have made that clear by now.

Sev kneeled, and looked down at the dried insect leg he held. It certainly didn't look appetizing, but as the hermit continued his chant he could feel The Force gathering around them and flowing through the mummified limb. Sev decided to honor the ritual of this strange primitive and took the limb into his mouth. While it didn't bear a strong taste, the texture of a dried insect limb in his mouth was certainly unpleasant. Sev closed his eyes and followed the Tuskens instructions, focusing on the temple and channeling his visualization into The Force.

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

The Tusken re-continued his chants, focusing his mind and energy to call forth the spirit of the cliffborer worm whose leg now rested comfortably in the mouth of Sev. The man would only be able to fit part of the leg inside his mouth, the rest hanging out awkwardly. The Force could be felt growing in strength around the pair, welling up from the rock and filling both of them with its presence. This was something much more untamed and wild than any connection with the Force Sev had previously. This power felt raw and unrefined, almost uncontrollable. As the Tusken kept up his chanting, the energy would circle them, making them the eye of an invisible storm.

The Tusken closed his eyes and stopped his chanting, his head turning downward toward the ground, his body still upright. There was a jerking motion as the Tusken grabbed Sev by the wrist, holding his arm still as he slashed across the Jedi's open palm with his knife. The blade fell from the shaman's fingers and as his head lifted up from his downward gaze, a light emanated from the goggles and maw of the mask. The light shone as brightly as a star, and was the color of the desert sands, a golden brown. The Tusken closed the hand of Sev into a fist using his own gloved hand applying pressure to squeeze a good amount of blood onto the rocky canyon ground into a small puddle from the wound before releasing the man's wounded appendage from his tight grasp.

The Tusken would restart his chanting once more, reaching down and dipping a finger in the Jedi's life essence. The chants grew stronger once more, and the energy of the Force around them was overwhelming as the Tusken took his blood coated finger and brought it up to Sev's forehead, drawing line from the center of the man's forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and down further until bringing the line of blood down onto the leg sticking out from the outsider's mouth. The line of blood burned with an unnatural heat as the connection was made, and Sev would feel the spirit of the feral beast that the leg had belonged connect with his own, roaring and thrashing as it made its way through the line on the man's face. An intense pressure would be felt by Sev as the large presence of the long dead cliffborer forced its way into him, intertwining its mind with his as it searched for answers as to why it was summoned.

Nartaga abruptly stopped his chanting, the light still shining from the holes in his mask. "Got you!" The Tusken exclaimed in Basic, before grabbing hold of the end of the insect leg with his other hand. The Light coming from the Tusken seemed to become a liquid, taking shape and pouring from him and moving into Sev. As the light made contact with the Jedi and joined with him, a warm feeling would come upon the Jedi, overpowering the wild and untamed worm scouring Sev's mind. Both presences would drain out of Sev, starting at the top of the line of blood and going into the cliffborer limb, using the trail of the Jedi's blood as if it were a path or road. The intense energy around the two disappeared without warning, and the emptiness would be just as deafening as the savage Force energy had been. There was silence for several more moments before Nartaga released his grip on the leg still in Sev's mouth. He breathed deeply and watched intently as if waiting for something to happen.

The leg twitched, then started to wriggle, lashing out at the still air in front of Sev's face, struggling to free itself from the Jedi's mouth. "Let worm go,. It show temple." The Tusken seemed very nonchalant, despite the occurrence of a severed and dried out husk of a cliffborer limb thrashing around from the confines of the man's mouth. When finally released from the Jedi, the leg fell to the ground, into the small pool of blood, rolling around in the ichor like a Dewback who had found an oasis in the desert and was taking a bath in water. The movements were unnatural, muscle long decayed giving the husk a jerky rhythm. After a minute or so of soaking itself in Sev's blood, the leg began to slowly crawl, dragging itself by one end of its form towards the map, leaving a trail of blood behind it as the extremity made its way onto the leather map Nartaga still had laying out in front of the fire.

The trail left by the possessed limb stretched out from where Nartaga had pointed out where his camp was and up into the northern dune sea, winding north east until it came to the edge of the map, halting. The claw-like end that it had been using to drag itself around bent upward, as if in confusion, before it went back down and continued its way off the side of the map and towards the fire. The trail of blood continued behind it as the leg crawled, out onto the stone, stopping once again before suddenly seizing and shaking. Suddenly, it flung upward, throwing itself in the firepit. The flames instantly exploded with energy, turning a bright blue and white before dying back down to their natural orange and red.

Nartaga, his eyes having been watching the limb with intense focus, looked back to Sev. The Tusken made a motion with his hand across his chest, starting at his left shoulder and going across his heart down to his right side. A ward against the bad omen that had been the location the worm spirit had given them. "Deadlands." The shaman's voice was grim and serious. The Tusken struggled to stand up, drained from focusing so much energy into the ritual and channeling the cliffborer spirit. Still, the nomad offered Sev an outstretched hand to aid him in getting up. "Can go. But danger. Not many come back. You sure temple want be found?"

Sev Pitborn​

 

[Sev Pitborn]

Sev simply sat in complete awe of the eldritch ritual he had just witnessed, his hand still leaking blood as he sat with his mouth agape. He could scarcely believe what he had just seen. He had been trained in The Force for nearly two decades, and he had still never seen anything so arcane and primal be conjured by it. The entire experience had been like something out of a fever dream. He had felt himself be possessed by the soul of a long-dead desert worm as if he had lived its entire lifetime. The sensations it produced in him were so strange that they were almost inconceivable.

The entire strange ritual all seemed so normal to the shaman; as if it were a regular occurrence. Sev could barely even process what had happened. His entire perception of what The Force was capable of had just been changed. He had just been a part of a ritual so strange and primal that it was unlike anything he had ever witnessed or even read of. Feeling the spirit of the cliffborer possess his mind, seeing the mummified limb move on its own accord, painting a crimson trail with his own ichor, was enough to make him question what he was even thinking coming here. The journey had already been stranger than he could have possibly imagined, yet his curiosity was only made even more ravenous by the experience.

Sev finally regained himself and listened as the strange shaman spoke to him. "Deadlands." The word alone was enough to conjure a feeling of dread in Sevs core, yet it also made his imagination run wild. He had come this far and already taken part in one of the strangest events of his life. There was no turning back now. The temple was real, and Sev was committed to finding it and unearthing its secrets.

"If you can guide me, I wish to go. I must find this place." Sev said. He seemed distant, as if his mind had already begun the journey. The combination of his extreme exhaustion, combined with the dreamlike ritual he had just experienced had taken everything out of him, but his tired mind spoke truth regardless. "What will you take in trade Nartaga? I will require your guidance. Ask anything within my power and you shall have it. I will need your knowledge for this journey." Sev wondered what this strange hermit would even ask for compensation. He seemed to have met all his need simply from living off the land. At this point, the journey had already begun. This lonely desert world had captured Sev's imagination and this strange Tusken shaman has awoken a rabid curiosity in the young Jedi. Tatooine had shown that it had many secrets to offer, even more than originally planned. Sev now wished to learn all he could.

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

As the shaman helped the Jedi up, he took hold of the man's injured hand, covering the injury with his own gloved hand. A warmth similar to that he had felt earlier, but much weaker, would wash over the open wound on his hand. Upon taking his hand back, the feeling would dissipate and show that the wound was closed. It was not completely healed, the Tusken not being able to muster enough energy to heal the wound completely, but able to conjure up enough so that a thin layer of new skin covered the nasty slash across Sev's palm. Nartaga seemed to teeter for a moment, as if he were about to fall over, before he regained his composure and steadied himself upright. The robed nomad was obviously at his limits, but he was still pushing himself for the sake of his guest.

Nartaga's gaze went back to the trail of blood left in the wake of the cliffborer's movements across the map, his eyes carefully studying the direction of the path the limb had taken. The hesitation could be felt from Nartaga as he thought carefully of what he should do. The exhausted Tusken slowly walked back over to his seat by the fire and picked up his bowl of stew, pouring what was left of his helping of the meal back into the still bubbling stew within the pot. He had lost his appetite after the events that had just transpired, and the revelation that the place Sev sought was a place that was beyond the territory of his tribe. Outsiders seeking his guidance through the wastes usually only asked the nomad for safe passage through Tusken Territory. It was not as if he had never been to the Deadlands before, but it was a far more dangerous place than even what were considered the civilized parts of Tatooine.

After a long silence the Tusken finally spoke, an ominous timbre in his voice. "Some places, not want be found. Hiding for reason." Before the despair of what seemed to be rejection could set in for the Jedi, the Tusken continued speaking. "Nartaga pray Tatooine if should help. She tell if meant to be." The Tusken went silent as he walked at steadily made his way back into the cave. When he came out this time, he had a small clay pot, two clay cups and a small bag of H'kak beans. Without a word the Tusken knelt by the fire, pouring some of the bright orange beans and crushing them up inside the pot with a stone pestle before pouring some water in them. The water turned a bright orange as the crushed beans and liquid mixed together, covering it after stirring it with the same stone pestle he had used for crushing the beans. The Tusken grabbed his gaderffii and used one end to stoke the fire, which roared to life as the oxygen passed through the firewood, bringing the mixture to a boil. The Tusken waited in silence, knelt by the fire, staring into the flames in thought. When the lid of the small clay pot began to clang and quake as the steam forced its way out of the container, the Tusken took the pot off the spit, and poured the contents into the two cups he had brought with him. The Tusken held out a cup to Sev. The bright orange H'kak tea gave out a pungent bitter aroma as the steam continued to rise up into the air. "Tea calm mind. Help Tatooine speak in dreams."

The Tusken stood before Sev, the brightness of the fire behind the Tusken contrasting with his front which faced the Jedi and making it appear much darker than it was, a trick of the light. "Have answer in morning. Take bed in cave. Nartaga stay out here. Rest. May be long travel." Without another word the Tusken made his way to the area beneath the cliff overhang that was Patashu the bantha's chosen resting spot, taking only his gaderffii and the cup of tea with him. The Tusken slowly patted the laying animals head as the bantha lifted it to greet her rider, letting out a loud yawn as she lay her horned head back down. Nartaga lay on the ground on the right side of the large animal, who adjusted her position to be more comfortable as the Tusken leaned with his back on her furry side. The Tusken would drink his tea before falling asleep. Patashu however, would not take her eyes off of the Outsider, the slowly dying firelight making them gleam in the night, until Sev went inside the hut, watching the man intently.

Once inside the cave of the Tusken, Sev would see what Nartaga meant by bed was little more than a leather mat with a large fur blanket on the ground, though what animal had produced the fur was unclear. Around the cave were many strange looking items. Jars of powder, pastes, skulls, totems, maps, and other items the Tusken seemed to have at the far side of the cave, while closer to the doorway were shelves and containers of foodstuffs and other edibles, most of which gave off a very strange scent. The cave was illuminated by several small, energy cell powered lights strewn about the cave ceiling, with a switch near the bed.

Sev Pitborn ​

 

[Sev Pitborn]

Sev Watched with great amazement as the Shaman used The Force to heal his hand. Sev was familiar with Force Healing, and may have been able to do it himself, but the shaman performed the maneuver with seeming little effort. Sev was impressed by the latent Force power the shaman unknowingly possessed. The Force flowed through the hermit like water in a stream, natural and effortless.

"Thank you Nartaga." Sev said as he tended to his hand. He still hadn't completely wrapped his head around the ritual he had just witnessed. This strange desert shaman could do things with The Force that the young Jedi didn't even know were possible. As the Tusken brewed a strange tea and spoke, Sev listened intently. Eager to hear his wisdom.

Understandably, The Tusken was not eager to risk his life in the Deadlands, and Sev was certain he wouldn't do it for free. However, after recent events, Sev was only more committed to finding this mysterious temple. The Tusken brewed a strange, bitter smelling tea and handed it to Sev. He drank it, then accepted the Tuskens offer of a bed in his cave. Though Sev normally would have refused, he thought it wise not to deny the hospitality of this hermit. The culture of The Tuskens was largely unknown to Sev and this man was his only lead. He decided that playing along with the hermit was his safest choice, so he did as he was told.

As Sev entered the humble cave, he looked around its strange contents. All manner of exotic ingredients and oddities filled the small cave. Though Sev was curious, he was also deliriously tired. The last day had been filled with hard travel and mind-bending rituals. The tea he had drunk seemed to make his muscles weigh even heavier, compounding his fatigue. Sleep called to him. Sev simply laid out his bedroll over the Tuskens bed for a bit of extra comfort and passed into dreams as soon as his head hit the mat.

Sev dreamed of Tatooine. The desert stretched in front of him endlessly. The Twin Suns seeming to take up the entire horizon of this alien dreamscape. Sev wandered alone through a canyon, not knowing where he was or where he was going. He felt the endless sands calling to him, as he dragged his aching feet through the burning dunes. Suddenly, a strange statue poked over the horizon, a hooded figure. He began to run towards it, not knowing why, simply that he needed to reach it. He heard a menacing roar, turning around to face whatever horror produced it, only to be jolted awake...

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

Nartaga had not slept very much during the night, the tea giving him a few hours of respite from his thoughts, as he tried to open his mind to the will of Tatooine. No vision or sign came to the Tusken in the night, and he would take this as a sign the decision was, ultimately, up to him. Patashu rolled over onto her side, and the Tusken was awoken by the movement of his bantha, looking around to glance over at the fire that was now only embers. Pushing down against his knees to aid him in standing up, the Tusken moved over to take the still hot pot of stew off the spit over the firepit. Setting it onto the sand, he looked at the door to his cave, unsure if it was proper to go in and possibly wake up the sleeping Sev. The Tusken looked up at the still dark sky, up to the stars, asking them for guidance where Tatooine had not. They did not answer, and Nartaga closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head slightly as he opened the metal door to the cave as quietly as he could.

The Tusken moved slowly through his dwelling, grabbing a long thin piece of rough cloth from atop a container. His eyes went over to Sev, who was still sleeping on his bed. The man seemed to be having an intense dream by the look on his face, and Nartaga could feel the man's distress at whatever was going on in his mind. The Tusken crept over beside the man and placed a hand above his head, thinking to read the Jedi's thoughts to try and discern what was causing the Outsider worry. He hesitated for a moment before deciding against such action, and instead put his hand on the man's shoulder and gently tried to shake him from his sleep.

The tribal was startled at the sudden rise of the Jedi back to consciousness, and jerked back slightly to give the man space to breath, as it appeared whatever the man had been dreaming had climaxed in quite a perturbing way. Sev would see the Tusken by his side, knelt down with his hands on his knees, looking over the man with his emotionless mask. "Sorry...Did not mean startle..." The Tusken said nervously, still unsure if whether waking the outsider was the best course of action. "Hope bed sleep good. Not soft like Outsider beds." The shaman shifted his weight and wrung his hands together apprehensively, the long strip of cloth still in his grip. It was in this moment he had the sense that he needed to help Sev find the temple. It was not some magical vision, nor a sign from Tatooine or the Suns, but the feeling that the man would carry on without the Tusken regardless, possibly getting himself killed out in the wasteland beyond Tatooine's settled areas. The Jedi had come this far, and Nartaga would rather help him stay alive and see him achieve his goal rather than be another nameless corpse taken by the unforgiving deserts of Tatooine.

Nartaga stood up slowly so as not to worry the man and walked over to one of the tables and reached down to procure a box container from underneath, pulling out a very worn and old looking Tusken mask and gloves. The nomad held up the Tusken garb pieces to the Jedi and set them down beside him. "Nartaga guide. Must make stop first." Nartaga made his way towards the exit doorway of the cave, grabbing his Cycler rifle from its place on a hook by its sling, as well as a large metal ammunition box. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and looked back to the Jedi. "A water machine. Like Outsiders have. That is price." The Tusken left the cave, leaving the metal door open behind him and would start readying for the journey, packing up his camp and getting Patashu loaded up with anything he could think they might need that he had.

Sev Pitborn ​

 

[Sev Pitborn]

Sev shot awake to the sight of his Tusken host looming near him. The Tusken apologized and Sev cordially accepted. "It's fine, I just had a strange dream... The bed served me well, thank you. I've had worse." As Sev was rising from his slumber, the Tusken produced some gloves and a Tusken mask, motioning to Sev as if he meant for him to take them. He set them down next to Sev before telling Sev what his price would be. A water machine. A moisture vaporator. They weren't too expensive, Sev was sure he could find a way to acquire one after their journey ended.

"Sounds like a deal." Sev said, as he blinked and rubbed his tired eyes. His slumber had been restful, but shorter than he wished due to his strange dream. Sev wasted no time getting up and readying himself for the journey ahead, pulling his desert cloak over his robes and sliding his hands into the tough gloves Nartaga had produced. He looked at the Tusken mask, before sliding it over his head. His field of view was restricted by the eye slits, and breathing through the rudimentary respirator was a strange sensation, but Sev knew he would need to acclimate to the mask if he were to survive the journey ahead. He took a few more moments too roll up his bedroll and repack his bag, before walking out to meet the Tusken.

The nomad was tending to his bantha, loading it up with provisions for the long journey ahead. Sev came outside and greeted the hermit, his voice distorted slightly by the mask. "Thank you for the equipment. I'm sure this will help me greatly. Is there anything I can do to help you prepare? I'm ready to leave when you are." Sev paused and looked up at the still-dark sky, it's edges just beginning to twinkle with the orange light of sunrise. Sev looked at the bantha, a large and strong creature. Its odor was certainly... interesting, but nothing too terrible. Sev took deep breaths of the dawn air through the Tusken mask, trying to acclimate to the feeling. He wondered how the Tuskens lived their whole lives in these things, before realizing that the harsh climate of Tatooine gave them no choice.

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

Nartaga had used the strip of cloth to tie down the top of the pot of stew made the night prior, readying it for transport, and was now attempting to put the saddle onto his Bantha, Patashu. For some reason the large beast would not lower itself to allow the Tusken to place the saddle onto its back. This despite the rider offering her the entire remainder of the bag of dried desert plums. Nartaga scratched and rubbed the animal's side, but it was to no avail. The Tusken leaned forward, pressing the forehead of his mask again the bantha, and continued stroking the creature's fur while whispering something in his native language to his mount. Finally Patashu relented, kneeling downward and allowing Nartaga to strap the saddle in and begin loading up the supplies he had gathered from inside his home.

His cycler rifle went into its leather sheath on the right side, as well as the ammunition box, followed by the pelts of the womprats he had killed prior to Sev's arrival, and provisions of hubba bread, dried hubba gourd, and womprat jerky. His water supplies were low, but he had enough to fill a few bladders fully. It would not be enough to sustain them on the long journey they had before them, but Nartaga had plans to make a stop before heading into the Deadlands. Next came an empty barrel which was put behind the saddle. While it seemed like a lot, the bantha Patashu did not seemed concerned at the weight of the items being loaded onto her back. Instead she again watched as Sev exited her rider's cave home, her eyes not letting the man out of their sight.

Nartaga looked over to Sev as he exited the Tusken's dwelling and walked up to him loading up the bantha, loading up a small urtya, a type of Tusken-made tent. The Tusken smiled as he saw the man had already donned the mask and gloves he had given him to wear, Nartaga old mask and gloves fit him well. It was almost comical to see an outsider in his people's traditional clothing, but he hoped it would be enough to hide the man's identity. "Need water for travel." There was a pause as the Tusken bent down to pick up his gaderffii, only continuing while he strapped the gaderffii to the saddle as well. "Must go to R'Crurak village. Tribe kill Outsiders. Mask hide face." After strapping the folded up tent behind the saddle, Nartaga held out the bag of dried desert plums to the man, motioning for him to take them. "Desert plum. Patashu not like Outsiders much. She think me guiding them get me killed. Talk. Feed. Brush. Get trust. Then we go." The bantha let out a half groan half growl as Nartaga walked away to finish loading up. Patashu lifted her head slightly to be at a higher position over the Jedi, and let out a forceful exhale, sending a gust of bantha breath directly at Sev.

After making sure everything was loaded up onto the bantha and strapped down, Nartaga would give the Jedi time to properly introduce and hopefully befriend, at least enough for her to trust Sev enough for the journey ahead. He would clean up his camp area, making a final pass over anything he thought they would need. He stopped at the entrance to his cave, lost in thought, trying to foresee the future and if there was anything he did not have packed. An idea came to the Tuskens mind, as he went to his work table with a variety of his shaman tools. Nartaga ran his hands over several of the items before settling on a small pouch of gray ashes and pocketing them. The tribal would returned outside, closing up and hiding the door of his cave as best as possible, and would climb up onto the back of his bantha, awaiting for Sev and the Patashu to finish their heart to heart to help the man aboard.

Sev Pitborn ​

 

[Sev Pitborn]

Sev listened as Nartaga spoke of the need to gain his banthas trust. Sev understood the importance of that. He could sense the intense bond Nartaga shared with Patashu. The two beings were sealed through the Force like family. Sev knew there would be no way to forge such a unique bond in this short time, but he needed to gain this animal's trust.

Sev took a desert plum from the sack Nartaga held, holding it behind his thigh as he slowly approached the creature. The bantha reared and stomped it's front legs slightly, the whites of its eyes showing at the rim as this stranger approached. Sev held up his right hand, reaching out through the Force to calm and soothe the animal. He approached it from the side, walking up to the bantha's massive head. Sev stroked the creatures rough, matted fur, before picking up the brush and running it through the thick hair.

"Shhh..." Sev whispered as he massaged the brush through the creature's thick fur. He reached out with the plum, letting the creature wrap it's long tongue around it, savoring the treat. The creature huffed with pleasure after enjoying the treat.

Sev continued to caress the animal with the brush, moving around and smoothing out any patches of matter or tangled fur. When he was satisfied, he approached the creature's head. He reached out and touched the animal on the forehead, reaching out with The Force. He projected as much light energy as he could muster, soothing the animal and broadcasting his pure intentions. The animal's eyes closed, and it lowered its head. Sev closed his eyes as well, bowing his head and bonding with the animal. He could feel it's primal energy, the noble spirit of the beast of burden reached back to him. When he was satisfied, Sev removed his hand and turned to Nartaga.

"I think we're ready." Sev said to Nartaga. He casually walked up to the saddle and hung his pack from it, as he waited for Nartaga to take the lead.

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

Nartaga extended a hand down and helped Sev climb aboard the back of the bantha, passing the man behind him the large pot of stew he had been holding in his lap while awaiting for Patashu's blessing to begin their travels. Taking the reigns in his right hand, Nartaga made a clicking noise with his mouth, and the Bantha slowly got up off of the ground, and began heading out of the Mospics and towards the lands between the beginning of the Northern Dune Sea and the Great Mesra Plateau, the heart of what the R'Crurak tribe considered their territory. Nartaga had been silent throughout the hours as the suns continued their ascension into the sky, the sands and rock of the area reflecting the growing heat. It would be close to noon before a canyon valley in the side of a plateau would be visible. From the ground it was hard to see, and any light at night would be well concealed. If it were not for the existence of starships and mechanical flight, it would be hard to find if one did not know what they were looking for. Nartaga lifted a hand and pointed at the edges of the valley, turning his head to the side so Sev would be able to hear him. "R'Crurak village. Trade for water and anything we missing. Then leave."

The Tusken adjusted his position in the saddle and turned to be halfway facing Sev, he brought up a hand and made a gesture, then motioned for the Jedi to mirror the sign. "If anyone give greeting, return respect. Say nothing. Keep mask on. Cover skin. Show none." Nartaga had only previously brought outsiders to a R'Crurak settlement twice prior. Both had ended with no incident, but he had learned from the first time that it was best to try to conceal the identity of an outsiders.

As drew closer to the edges of the valley there was movement among the rocks. Several Tuskens with similar blue fists painted on their shoulders were seen, rifles and gaderffii in hand. They were letting themselves be seen, as both a deterrence and a warning to any enemies of their lands. Nartaga pulled lightly on the reigns of Patashu, who slowed to a halt. Nartaga lifted his left arm, letting the sleeve of his robes fall to his shoulder, revealing his fully wrapped arm, and turning one of the several bracelets on his forearm. The band in particular was a leather strap attached to a shiny metal plaque with the twin suns engraved on it. The metal of the plaque caught the suns' light, giving a gleam to the Sentries guarding the village, and they soon disappeared back into the rocks. Their presence, as well as the gaze they cast on the approaching pair, could still be felt as Patashu returned to .

As they entered into the valley, the village of hardy tents could be seen, no more than a dozen. Tusken men, women and children walked out among the village, going about their daily chores and interacting with one another. The real draw to the was what was just beyond the tents. just past the gathering of Tusken dwellings was an oasis; a small lake with actual green vegetation growing in patches out, and several Tatooine trees sprang up from the ground with their gnarled and twisted forms. Several cave entrances could be seen dotting the wall of the canyon, leading into the underground well the village utilized for its water supply, as well as for storage and worship, among other things. There was no telling how far the cave system went without having a better look inside.

"Stay on Patashu. She keep safe. Return soon." Nartaga swung his left leg over and climbed down off the right side of the bantha. Patashu's slow jaunt through the village continued towards the water at the rear of the canyon, even as Nartaga moved throughout the groups of Tuskens and animals. Even through the expressionless masks and heavily covered bodies the contempt could be felt directed at the shaman, who seemed to ignore the sideways looks and hand gestures warding away spirits, and went to a slightly larger tent than the rest. Finally Patashu came to the edge of the water, lowering her head and began to drink. Several uli-ah, Tusken children, wrapped and covered, ran up to the side of Patashu and began to chatter in the Tusken language while rubbing the bantha's side. Several of the Tusken younglings looked up at Sev expectantly, as if waiting for him to answer.

Patashu lifted her head, letting out deep bellow and turning slowly to face the children, her tongue coming out and going across each of them like a curious probe, leaving a fine trail of saliva. Giggles and high pitched squeaks were heard from behind the masks of the little Tuskens before they would run off, still giggling and laughing. The female bantha tilted her head up and sideways, her right eye meeting Sev's behind his mask, before she let out a huff and went back to loudly drinking from the lake. Several other banthas gathered around Patashu and Sev, joining them by the water. Nartaga had still not returned.

Sev Pitborn ​

 

[Sev Pitborn]

Sev nodded to Nartaga's instructions as the man left to enter the village. He leaned back in the addle, relaxing and easing the strain on his back when suddenly several children approached the bantha and began to play with the creature, squeaking away in their strange language. Sev grew somewhat nervous, as the children looked up at him and spoke, clearly expecting some kind of response. The bantha playfully licked the children, giving them great amusement and ultimately they scurried away.

Sev waited atop the creature silently. Looking around the strange village. The Tusken women wore their traditional garb, slowly going about the work of maintaining a desert community. One labored outside he tent, tanning some bantha hide. Another stirred a massive pot, brewing a stew with a smell similar to what Nartaga had made the night before.

The men also carried out their daily labor, their menacing gaffi sticks and cycler rifles keeping Sev's nervous attention. Suddeny, one of the Tusken warriors approached Sev and began to speak. He croaked out some sort of greeting in The Tusken language and showed the hand sign that NArtaga had demonstrated earlier. Sev returned the gesture, yet remained silent. The Tusken seemed satisfied, but continued to hole in his foreign language, the tone changing near the end of his statement, as if he were asking a question. Sev simply stared at the Tusken, unsure of what to do. The desert warrior repeated himself, his tone growing slightly annoyed, as he once again questioned the disguised outsider. Sev simply made the gesture again, hoping the sign of respect would satisfy the Tusken.

The warrior seemed confused, grabbing his gadderffii and raising it, shaking the tip at Sev as he spoke. His tone was more aggressive now as if he was greatly confused or even offended by the outsider. Sev grew nervous, unsure of how to react. Sev didn't even know the first word of the Tusken language, and any use of basic would reveal his true nature. Sev simply played dumb, again making the gesture. The warrior seemed to pause, confused, not speaking in anger as before. Perhaps the warrior though Sev was slow or deaf, and as the warrior seemed to ponder this strange predicament, Nartaga emerged.

Nartaga

 

[Nartaga]

Nartaga entered the tent of the village elder, leader of this village. The much older Tusken's clothing was tattered and worn, his robes reflecting his age, though still hiding any hint of skin beneath. The Elder looked away from the Sentries he was talking to and glanced over, raising a hand to Nartaga for him to wait. Nartaga stopped in his tracks and shifted uncomfortably as he saw the trio of R'Crurak Sentries the elder was talking to turn to see who had entered, quickly turning away at the outcast Tusken. After a few moments the elder waved his hand over for Nartaga to approach. As he walked over, the shaman was passed by the trio of Tuskens as they were on their way out. The leader of the three rammed his shoulder into Nartaga's as he passed, but Nartaga was able to stand his ground and continue without escalating the brief encounter, choosing instead to simply ignore them and move on.

The elder of the village bowed his head, which Nartaga returned with a deeper bow. The elder spoke in the Tusken tongue to the younger tribal. "You have returned sooner than anticipated, Nartaga. You do me honor with your visit." The Elder placed a gloved hand on Nartaga's shoulder before sitting down on a beaten looking scrap metal stool. "Your words do me honor, Elder." Nartaga kept his head bowed until the elder motioned for him to sit on a similar metal stool across from him. The elder placed his hands on the small round table in between himself and Nartaga. "Why have you returned so soon? And with someone from another tribe?" Nartaga cocked his head to the side, watching the other Tuskens in the tent. The shaman leaned in, speaking in a whisper to the elder. "He is an exile from the Sonrakt tribe. He is on a quest to regain his honor by venturing into the Deadlands in search of artifacts from his ancestors. He asked that I help him make the journey, and I agreed. We stopped here to trade for water before we go further north." The older Tusken leaned back in his seat, there was silence as he took in what Nartaga said and stared into the eyes of the younger's mask. "It is unlike you to lie to me, Nartaga....He is Outsider, yes? You are guiding him." Nartaga's shoulders slumped and his head downward once more, this time in deep apology. The elder waved his hand at the younger Tusken, grabbing his attention to stop bowing his head. "I understand why you lied, but you know me better than that. I trust the judgment of a Shaman, even over the Chieftain. It is still best you hid his identity. If you brought him to the village without disguising him, I could not have ignored it."

Nartaga turned his head slightly out of confusion, surprised that the elder would trust him over tribal law. "Why do you trust my word over the Chieftain? If the outsider is discovered and it is found out you knew I brought him to our village, you would be put to death just as I would." The elder tribal spread his hands out, motioning towards Nartaga. "Not all R'Crurak believe the outsiders to be as worthy of death as the Chieftain. The Shamans speak for the Suns, and Tatooine itself. You are mortal, but your connection to our mother world runs even deeper than mine. You are a conduit for its power, and Tatooine and the Suns act through you. I am old enough to know not to go against the will of the Suns." It was a different opinion than Nartaga was used to among his tribesman. He was glad the village closest to the deadlands had been this one. The elder of this village had opened his eyes to the fact that he was not the only one who did not continuous war with the outsiders. "With your permission Elder, I will trade for the water and leave. Before the outsider's true identity is revealed." The elder reached into his robes and produced a small pendant necklace to the shaman. "Give this to someone at the well and they shall give you what you ask for. It is my sigil, and they will honor it. If what you seek is within our larder or armory it is yours." Nartaga took hold of the necklace, looking it over carefully before standing up, bowing deeply again. "Thank you, Elder. Your kindness shall not be forgotten."

Nartaga left the tent, heading to the caves on the side of the canyon which led down into the underground well. He produced the sigil to the Sentry standing guard at the entrance to the most precious and sacred resource to the Tuskens. After looking at the golden half sun closely, the Sentry barked something in Tusken, and a few moments later a sealed barrel filled with water was carted out of the well and brought to Nartaga. The female Tusken who had brought the water looked over the pendant as well. "Trade?" The female Tusken asked, not seeing anything worthy of swapping for the water on the shaman. Even with the sigil of the village elder, they could not simply let go of sacred water for nothing. Nartaga pointed over the lake to where Sev and Patashu were. "I have pelts, stew, as well as an empty to replace this one." The Tusken woman nodded, and began the slow process of walking the wheel cart carrying the barrel of water down the paths dug into the sides of the canyons. Nartaga turned, some motion catching his eye. He squinted to push his eyesight farther, and made out a Sentry interacting with Sev, still atop Patashu. What had drawn his vision to them was the sign he had told Sev to use. Then he saw it again. Then a third time. Even from here he could sense the growing suspicion of the Sentry, and he would rush ahead of the water cart to get to Patashu and Sev before things got out of control.

He arrived to what was now a small gathering of banthas at the lake, and ran up to the Sentry, coming from the right side, the sigil of the village elder in hand. Undeterred by the actions of Patashu, who had turned trying to dissuade the Sentry, or at the very least distract the Tusken from investigating Sev too closely. The Sentry turned to Nartaga, his gaderffii still raised slightly in his hands, but his entire demeanor seemed to change when he saw the golden pendant the arriving nomad had. The two conversed in Tusken, Sev unable to understand a word. "Why won't he speak? Is he mute?" Nartaga shook his hand heavily. He looked over to Sev, then back to "He is a banished from his tribe. He has taken a vow of silence until he has restored his honor. I saw into his soul and Tatooine forgave him, so I am helping him on his quest." The Sentry nodded his head, as if understanding perfectly. Still, there was something the Sentry did not understand. "Why does he not sign more then?" Nartaga was not the best liar, the fact a contradiction caught so quickly. He was, however, quick witted. "Silence in all forms. I am disappointed that he broke his silence, but I understand what he is intending. To regain one's honor, you must show respect to others. He was honoring you." The Sentry looked at the disguised Sev, unconvinced at first, but then nodding his head. "Honor from one who is banished is meaningless...but should he regain his, I shall accept it." The Sentry looked back up to Sev and returned the same sign the disguised Jedi had been making, and nodded as if Sev had understood any of what had been said before walking off and back to his guard duties.

Patashu laid down in the sand to allow the Tusken to better unload the pelts and empty barrel before climbing partway up. Nartaga whispered in broken Basic as he grabbed a hold of the pot of stew that had been trusted to Sev. He looked around quickly to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Close call. But safe. Maybe okay to hop down now. I lie, say you have silent promise. Wind carry word quick. Stay close, watch body speak. Clues to meaning." The Tusken woman finally caught up to the Shaman, who had taken off at a near sprint to reach the bantha before her, and looked over the pelts and barrel. Nartaga hopped down and started to converse with the fully covered woman, who untied the cloth around the stewpot and inhaled the aroma of its contents, nodded approvingly and taking the pot.

It would appear Nartaga had spoken true. If Sev were to leave Patashu, he would largely be ignored by the other Tuskens. Word of the exiled Tusken had indeed spread on the wings of the wind. The village was an extremely close knit community. Almost nothing happened within the village without everyone being aware of it. Such a way of living was necessary for survival, protecting their homes from enemies and wildlife, but was also because of the small size of the desert village. There could not be more than two hundred Tusken raiders that lived here, as well as their banthas, massiffs, and other domesticated animals. There was a small marketplace in the center, but all purchases were accomplished through barter, the R'Crurak not having any monetary system.

Sev Pitborn ​