Private Depths of Crime

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Allyson Locke ​

The cold steel of a cheap metal bed in a cheap cantina motel never brought warm memories to the mind of Mrurh'en'lase. If anything, they brought equally frigid memories with a dimness comparable to that of the blinking light that had become somewhat disjointed from its fixture in the ceiling.

The horrific smell of burnt ozone, lasting for half-hours after the blasters had been fired in unison. The screams of the injured and dying, begging for their mothers and fathers to rescue them from their unavoidable fate. Widened red teary eyes of children now left without a family, abandoned to wander the streets of unforgiving cities or the endless stretches of empty farmland. These were recollections of a time that made her a violent and troubled woman, one that should have never even been considered for the Jedi given her innate connection to the Dark Side that came from these events. And in the cold room of this motel, she suffered her plague alone, trying so very hard to block it out and push its corruption back into the hollows of her ancient reptilian brain. Waiting with mounting impatience for her new Master to return.

And what a wait it was, the plague of the mind raging with and mingling so effortlessly with the odor of Hutts, backwater sewer systems, and the general atrocity that was the air of Nar Shaddaa. Why she had to come here, of all planets in all systems of space in the entire galaxy, was a question she had almost no answers for beyond "crime." Normally, she would enjoy the opportunity to be involved with such a word - and it was almost certain that her knowledge of its applications would come in handy this day. And she would normally enjoy the opportunity - any opportunity at that - to leave behind the musty shelves and doddering aged geezers and crones of the Jedi Temples to go on an adventure, notwithstanding the events on Tython.

But this was Nar Shaddaa, a disgusting, rancid, villainous, and downtrodden planet she had been to before once or twice during her youthful years of thirteen or fourteen. Of course, it was only to ensure that her gang boss at the time - a Zabrak of poor renown throughout Hutt Space - was left unassailed by fist, blade, or blaster. She ended up assailing the man himself when he refused to pay her agreed-upon wages, taking her credits and then some and leaving him to his own devices in an unnamed cantina. Again, it never made sense to her as to why the Jedi were even willing to consider training her.

A thought that was quickly replaced by a muffled yet internal scream - that of a man whose wife had just been taken away into slavery. Rising from the cold steel of her cot, Mrurh'en'lase began to pace around the room, slow at first and then increasing in speed. Waiting for the damn mission to begin properly.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel //:

​

Cards slammed on the table as the sound of groans echoed the small betting hall. "How?!" A voice cried out, its guttural tone showing its discontent towards the winner of the hand. A zabrak sneered towards the Corellian woman as she grinned and slid the plethora of credits towards her. "HOW." the voice demanded again, this time without question as he stood. The Zabrak's attempts at intimidating the Corellian went noticed, and the woman chewed on the wooden toothpick for a moment, contemplating her next move.

"Oh, just better at the game than you, old friend." She quipped, forcing an accent of a backwater farmer. "Ain't no reason to be upset; you'll get 'em next time, wompa." Standing, Allyson slung the bag over her shoulder, her winnings threatening to spill over. "I ain't gonna ask you again, Alliance dog - How. Did. You. Win." This time, as he enunciated his demand, a few others stood, and the growl of a rancor not too far away echoed, shaking the small building. Allyson took a step back and adjusted the eyepatch over her cybernetic eye. "Well." She paused, letting her slender fingers grasp at the toothpick, removing it from her lips as she continued. "It's quite simple..." She lifted up the eyepatch, and the red light flickered in her pupil. "I cheated." With a flick of her finger, the toothpick flung and pierced the Zabrak in the eye. A slew of curse words chimed, and Allyson grinned.

The thugs gathered their weapons and pointed them in her direction. Except the Corellian was gone in the blink of an eye. Allyson moved through the waves of the Force, invisible to damn near everything that could have spotted her. She didn't pick up any force sensitivity radiating from the thugs, but the Spy didn't plan on waiting long enough to find out. So she decided to take the complicated route back to the dinghy inn she and her new padawan were staying at; she remained unnoticed. As she stood outside the door, she exhaled.

Allyson Locke was not the ideal Jedi. Heck, she was far from the perfect Master as well. From time to time, when her mind thought of Zaavik, she wondered how he even survived anything they had gotten themselves into. Even now, with his whereabouts unknown, she wondered how he was faring. The Corellian's pride showed a bit when she found herself proud of him - surviving all this time on his instinct and grit. "Maybe I did well by that one. Hopefully, I can do the same with this one." Shrugging, Allyson dropped the guise and opened the door. Knowing as much as she knew with the hybrid Chiss-Zeltronian, she prepared herself for anything.

She slipped into the room and looked at the towering woman. "Impatient?" Allyson questioned as she tossed the card game's winnings on the nearest bed. "I was able to do the quick reconnaissance of the place; it seems small - but I heard a rancor which ehhhhh - don't know how to deal with that just yet." Pausing, Allyson sat on the edge of her bed and looked over at her padawan. The pacing reminded her of Zaavik, impatient and eager, but Mrurh'en'lase was different. Instead, the emotions and aura the woman gave off were angrier. Allyson ran a hand through her dark brown hair as she sighed. "These sorts of missions aren't the fastest moving, so how about we uh do some of that meditation stuff - or you can talk to me, tell me what's got you so tightly wound up."​

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Allyson Locke ​

She entered the room, slipping in like a wraith yet looking like the Corellian alley stalker that she was - someone Mrurh'en'lase would have consorted with several times before during the golden years of credit earnings and bounty hunting. She was Allyson Locke, Jedi Master, Shadow. The Hybrid's red eyes glanced at her and then back to a neutral position, moving only as she paced back and forth. It was odd. It didn't make sense.

Like Hel, Locke was not afraid to get her hands dirty, which only made her that much more of an enigmatic choice to lead the giantess on deployment. Most of the time, she was led by someone with full control of themselves, tempered in the fire of the Jedi. Allyson Locke was someone willing to cut loose and not be so stuck up and strict on...rules and the like. Strangely, this did not ease the Hybrid's worries, especially when her master for the day spoke, first detailing what she had done during the time she had left her charge alone - always a smart idea - and then by asking a question that the Hybrid very much did not want to answer.

"These sorts of missions aren't the fastest moving, so how about we uh do some of that meditation stuff - or you can talk to me, tell me what's got you so tightly wound up."

The young Padawan sighed and stopped her pacing, looking to her assigned Master - more akin to a caregiver really, if those in charge of the Jedi Order had any say about it - with an annoyed glare that spoke many things, but said very little. This was the normal part, the expectation that she had grown accustomed to after months of serene interrogation by the Healers and the old bastards in the Temple on Coruscant. Always prodding and poking in the effort to figure her out to the last strand of her DNA, trying to get to the root of the always present issue perverting the Hybrid's soul and attachment to the Jedi Code. But they could not figure it out, and neither would Locke - no matter her enigmatic nature. So Hel remained quiet after her long glare at the woman charged with leading the mission and simply resumed her pacing.

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel //:

​

Allyson stared back. She hadn’t expected Hel to say anything or share any of the emotions that screamed at her core. But, instead, viridescent eyes stared back, unwavered by the annoyed grunting of the padawan. Silence hung in the air growing thicker the longer the student was defiant.

The spy shrugged and was the first to break the staring contest. “Fine then, keep your secrets.” There was no point in pressuring the woman; she would just be like all the others. “You’re just going to be stuck listening to me talk then.” Allyson fell back onto the bed, moving slightly to avoid the stray spring digging into her back. “I get secrets, trust me.”

It had been a long day, and the last thing she wanted to do was fight with the padawan. Allyson had learned from Zaavik that pressing and trying to pull unwanted thoughts from someone was just asking for trouble. Hel obviously had lived through some chit, and talking about it would only make it worse. This required a delicate touch, one that Allyson was unsure if she actually had.

“I don’t care, you know. About whatever you got going on with you. I’m going to train you.” Putting her hands behind her head, Allyson continued to settle into the bed, her legs crossed while her foot bounced slightly to an unknown beat. “Despite my title being Master - You’re still my partner - someone I trust with my life, so please don’t get me killed.”

A grin spread across the Corellian’s slender face as she looked towards her padawan, the woman pacing back and forth. Allyson leaned up on her elbows as she continued to watch. “You’re going to wear yourself out - didn’t you hear me say we’ve got a rancor to deal with along with a den full of pissed-off thugs?” Her voice sharpened, “If you don’t think you’re gonna be able to sleep - then let’s go.” Allyson stood up and tossed off the leather jacket, “I’m going to teach you how to disappear into the Force.” With a sly grin and a snap of her fingers, the Corellian disappeared from the hybrid’s vision. A few moments later, she shimmered back into existence.

“The key is to find then bend the light with the Force, find a place within the shadows between the folds of the Force and light. Wrap yourself with the shadows like a blanket.” Pausing, Allyson nodded and soon added. “Those that can skirt the line between light and dark seem to find solace within shadows of the force easier.”​

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Allyson Locke ​

“Fine then, keep your secrets. You’re just going to be stuck listening to me talk then.”

The Hybrid sighed once more. She should have expected this as well - the Masters always loved talking in place of silence whenever Mrurh'en'lase refused to speak. Hell, everyone that she had ever known was like that. A particular person of note was a bounty hunter named Nil, who had watched over the Hybrid for a spell when she was eleven years old on some nameless backwater. The huntress had defected from her group to go solo, but that got her more enemies than it did opportunity. Naturally, this put her on the run and lead her right to the world where Hel had been abandoned by spice traders.

Hel assumed the huntress saw potential in her even then, mostly on account of how she was a freak in size and had just begun showcasing her abilities with the Force. Over the course of six or so months, the huntress taught everything she knew about fighting and talked through every minute of it - the Hybrid, of course, remaining as silent as the grave like she was now in the presence of her master.

Her face jerked somewhat as did her shoulders when the thought of another came bursting into view - that of a man as big as a mountain, and one that she had been trying to forget for as long as she had been on her own. Armored in the same style of plate one would expect a knight of the old tales from primitive worlds to be wearing. His helm fashioned after a sea beast and his face an unholy ruin of hair and scars and paint. The Hybrid shook herself back to awareness and returned to listening to Locke's words.

“Despite my title being Master - You’re still my partner - someone I trust with my life, so please don’t get me killed.”

The Hybrid would have smiled had her mood not been as sour as it was. These were words she rarely heard - actually, she never heard them. Most of the time, any sort of variations on these words were just threats, commands, and demands. And most of the time, they came from the old bastards in the temples, former associates in the crime world, and those she served under on deployment into warzones. So to hear these words spoken by someone other than those people, and by someone as enigmatic as Allyson Locke, was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one to say the least. It had to be proven, however, whether it was just a passing twinge of joy or one that would last.

“You’re going to wear yourself out - didn’t you hear me say we’ve got a rancor to deal with along with a den full of pissed-off thugs?”

Hel stopped her pacing at these words and gave a mild shrug, a sign that she, in fact, did not give a feth about the presence of the rancor in the den of the thugs. She had been around enough rancors, nexu, Kath hounds, and even Acklays to know that they were easy enough to deal with.

Exactly. Why worry about something you know already? What the feth does that have to do with anything? It's the gangs you have to worry about. It's always been them.

Hel was prepared to respond, at last, to the woman's words which had begun to turn into the dreaded lessons, only to see that the woman had disappeared. When she attempted to ask aloud where her Master had gone, Locke returned to sight a few feet away from where the Hybrid had stopped her pacing.

“The key is to find then bend the light with the Force, find a place within the shadows between the folds of the Force and light. Wrap yourself with the shadows like a blanket. Those that can skirt the line between light and dark seem to find solace within shadows of the force easier.”

The words were both logical and illogical to the mind of Mrurh'en'lase. While she understood what Locke was saying and could admit that there was some wisdom behind it, she could not see herself following such a path. Really, she could not see why anyone would ever choose to follow such a path. A solid attack, plan of intimidation, and brute force would do just as well here as it would anywhere else, and more often than not, it was the best plan going forward.

"I don't think melding into the shadows is a good way to go with these people, Master Locke," Hel said with a rigid tone. "If we have a full den of pissed-off thugs, as you put it, it would be easier to just go through them rather than around. Too much sneaking around just puts a lot of obstacles in our way, and if we have to deal with a rancor...well, us killing it up would just draw the others on us anyways."

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel //:

​

Hel finally spoke; Allyson showed her surprise as her arms settled across her chest. She nodded, hearing what the padawan had to say. There was truth in her words, and it was a breath of fresh air. While Zaavik typically followed Allyson’s commands, Hel questioned them. Allyson valued that in a partner and padawan. “You’re right. I’m fully in the school of slowly making my way through taking them out until getting what I want, but I don’t like not knowing what is behind the next door.” A hand rested against her chin as she thought silently to herself. Allyson needed to try and explain the reasoning for the systematic process she had planned for them.

“I typically work alone. I don’t have the luxury of someone watching my back. So I have to rely on finding the targets as quickly as possible.” Allyson paused as she looked around, she usually wrote things in the dirt to Zaavik, but her words would have to do for the time being. “So recon is extremely important. I’ve made the general contact, got us some spending money - because M has given me a tiny mission fund.” The Corellian chuckled nervously, knowing all too well why M had cut off the flowing cash. A particular detective on Coruscant made a pretty penny every time Allyson called, almost every time. A soft blush rose up the curve of the embarrassed woman as she rubbed the back of her neck.

Clearing her throat, Allyson folded her arms again and nodded, continuing. “So with sneaking in, we can recon and find where they’re guarding heavily, where the damn rancor is, also where we would find our target. By knowing these things, it raises our survivability. Also, if there’s an easy and quiet way to take out the head of the snake - I’d rather do that than mindless slaughter.”

Allyson’s face darkened as she thought about it. So many others in the NJO and the Alliance were alright with slaughtering without thought. It made her stomach twist into knots, knowing the war crimes that others have committed, and while she did her best to avoid it - she knew she wasn’t innocent. Exhaling softly, Allyson smiled. “So I’d like to avoid killing everyone in that den. I’d rather cut the head and arrest the others, giving them a chance at changing their lives. If not, then we’ll deal with them.”

Looking up towards the clock in the room, she counted in her head, “I’d suggest we go later in the evening, probably early morning - but first I’d like for you to try to learn force cloak - if not, I can outfit you with a personal camouflage. After hearing my explanation, what are your thoughts? Like I told you, you’re my partner; your input is important to me.”​

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Allyson Locke

​

The hybrid fell silent once more after finally speaking her mind, her arms crossed and hands tucked against the hard leather of her chest piece. When Allyson spoke in turn - her pose one of thought and understanding of her padawan's concerns with stealth in a location where such actions were...difficult for someone such as Mrurh'en'lase - she spoke deliberately as she had for the entirety of this mission thus far. Or, at least, as deliberately as Mrurh'en'lase could perceive.

“You’re right. I’m fully in the school of slowly making my way through taking them out until getting what I want, but I don’t like not knowing what is behind the next door.”

Mrurh'en'lase's posture softened at these words, but only somewhat. She almost never heard someone else agree with her concerns of any matter. To many of her contemporaries, she was a brute, savage and imbecilic in her thoughts and ideas. It was often a question among them as to why they should take anything she said into consideration when their ideas were not only smarter, but safer for everyone involved. Perhaps they said this in ways that were not as harsh, but...the meaning was there, as was the result. Now, she fell into that role purposefully, not even giving a chance to trying to come up with a plan besides maiming the enemy with a frontline attack. So to finally hear it partially validated by her own Master was a minor boost to her confidence. Only minor, for she also knew that such things were likely as fleeting as everything else in her life.

“I typically work alone. I don’t have the luxury of someone watching my back. So I have to rely on finding the targets as quickly as possible. So recon is extremely important. I’ve made the general contact, got us some spending money - because M has given me a tiny mission fund."

There it was. The start of the fleeting away from the understanding of her idea of a straightforward attack. They always started with an explanation of how they did things differently - better, and stealthier, and smarter. Everything was always just fething better. Then they would go into the spiel of why that mattered in the current mission and why Hel's idea was, ultimately, idiotic and pointless. Even if they didn't say that word for word, they meant it in the tone they spoke with and with the inflection of every syllable and consonant. Mrurh'en'lase assumed Master Allyson's slight reddening of her cheeks was her awareness that her Padawan was herself aware of this nonsense. Embarrassment at being caught in the act of fleeting understanding for someone who...who made damn sense sometimes. Even an idiot brute has to make sense sometimes, right?

“So with sneaking in, we can recon and find where they’re guarding heavily, where the damn rancor is, also where we would find our target. By knowing these things, it raises our survivability. Also, if there’s an easy and quiet way to take out the head of the snake - I’d rather do that than mindless slaughter. So I’d like to avoid killing everyone in that den. I’d rather cut the head and arrest the others, giving them a chance at changing their lives. If not, then we’ll deal with them.”

Mrurh'en'lase had nearly missed it, but Master Allyson's expression had changed when she said these words. It was quick, almost a flash of an expression like the blinking of a dying lightbulb or a crack of lightning during a storm. It was a darkening spread of remorse, regret, and disgust - a spread that Mrurh'en'lase was all too familiar with. The frustration in her heart began to subside at the sight, and her own form of regret at being angry with her Master would take its place. It was a twinge of emotion, but it was there, and it was enough for her to get her to unfold her arms and almost take a step forward to place a comforting hand on the shoulder of her Master. But then her Master had smiled and finished her statement, bringing Mrurh'en'lase back to her crossed-arm stance.

“I’d suggest we go later in the evening, probably early morning - but first I’d like for you to try to learn force cloak - if not, I can outfit you with a personal camouflage. After hearing my explanation, what are your thoughts? Like I told you, you’re my partner; your input is important to me.”

The young Mrurh'en'lase merely shrugged at the question, offering nothing in the way of words at first. She had accepted that her way was not going to be followed and she might as well resign herself to following her Master's footsteps. Besides...wasn't that the point of a Padawan anyway? To shut up and listen and learn like a glorified student in elementary school?

Then, she finally said - once more in a rigid and almost indignant tone: "Sounds like a plan, Master. How would I go about learning this Force Cloak?"

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel //:

​

Years of reading people and their body language, Allyson watched her padawan telegraph every thought that crossed her mind. At first, she loosened her posture, then tensed, and then relaxed once more. Finally, drawing inward and her tone gave away her emotions. The Corellian remained stoic as she filed away the padawan's reactions to specific explanations; they would help the guiding hand during their time together. "You're unhappy." Allyson quipped, pointing out the tone and the words that came from the woman's lips.

"Trust me, I'd like to go in there and rip their heads off too, and I plan on doing so. But I do have to take our safety into account - along with anyone innocent in that place." Allyson sat on the end of her bed and thought quietly at the mission before them. Ideally, she would have gone in and scoped the place from a hidden corner or even would have infiltrated and sat quietly within their ranks. But, with Hel, she couldn't do that, especially with how green the woman was from her understanding.

A hand rested against her face as she thought, and going against her best judgment, she decided. "Okay. From the short survey, I was able to do, I didn't notice anyone being held captive. All I picked up was that the place was full of thugs and the criminal sort." Allyson's hand fell from her face. "I told you that I value your opinion, and I'm supposed to teach you. Sometimes life and experience is the best teacher. You seem anxious to try your way. So I'll support you." Standing again, Allyson prepared herself to teach the skill that was the core of her expertise.

"Don't call me Master, by the way. My name's Allyson. I'm not one of those pajama-wearing idiots." A hand waved off the concept; she wasn't a fan of some of the more archaic ways of doing things within the Jedi. "Call me Master again, and I'll make you clean an X-wing with a toothbrush." A jest, in an attempt to make things light-hearted, hopefully pulling Hel from her frustration.

"Anyways, Force Cloak is an advanced skill, I don't expect you to pick up super quick, but it's a fun place to start. The way it works is you're using the Force to bend light, pulling it and weaving it to hide you from plain sight. The better you are, the easier it is to fool scanners and other things." Allyson thought quietly for a moment, trying to think of a way to help Hel understand the concept. "Imagine the rays of sun that shine through a window, waves of light are the same, just a bit smaller. Thread the Force through those rays of light, weaving almost a cloak with your mind. The Force will bend and twist, conforming and creating a shadow to cloak yourself with. Take your time and focus; we have a few hours before we go blow those gonks to kingdom come."

The Corellian grinned, folding her arms in front of her chest.​

 

[Mrurh'en'lase | Hel]

Allyson Locke

It was admittedly - and surprisingly - difficult for the hybrid to watch her Master's expression remain solid like stone as she prattled off her snark. Stoic and emotionless like a parent who was disappointed in their child who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. The hybrid's indignant stance shifted a touch into a mix of forced stuffiness and natural uncomfortableness, watching her Master read her like an open picture book.

She should have watched her tone when she spoke, but of course, there would be no hiding anything from Master Locke. No matter how hard she tried. She who went toe to toe with Darth Carnifex - the Emperor Emeritus of the Sith Empire - would always be able to pick out Hel's true meaning regardless of her effort to mask it with false tone and emotion.

Such childish frustration was almost smited entirely when her Master finally spoke in turn, saying the words:

"You're unhappy."

It was a quip, yes, but it was true, and Hel couldn't even attempt to hide it. She didn't attempt to hide it and that should have been the end of it.

But the way that her Master had remained stone-like and said those words in such a tone...well it almost made that previous regret she felt not moments prior return in full force. Her arms loosened in their crossing, her head lowering enough to have her face shrouded in the shadows made by the dim lightbulb and her long strands of purple-silver hair. She whispered something indistinct - and it was unclear if it was to her Master or to herself - and leaned back against the wall, resting her back and left foot against the cold, stained metal surface.

There was a laugh and yell that resounded outside their room, along with a thud and bang against the wall Hel leaned back on, but she didn't react. She didn't even blink. She merely sulked, dwelling much too hard on the disappointment of Master Locke. Even when her Master went on to admit that she herself would have enjoyed doing what Hel wanted to do in a straight attack, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was just being a child trying to guilt her mother into doing what she wanted. She knew that someone as talented and as experienced as Allyson Locke would never -

"I told you that I value your opinion, and I'm supposed to teach you. Sometimes life and experience is the best teacher. You seem anxious to try your way. So I'll support you."

...

What? The hybrid's posture once again softened, but her heart was conflicted. The ice of her guilt wanted to melt under the warm sun of what she was hearing, or what she thought she was hearing, but it was too radical a shift in what she was expecting that she felt that she had only proven her own brutish, idiotic selfishness right. She raised her head to stare in shock at her Master, her red eyes barely visible behind the curtain of purple-silver hair that was in great need of brushing. Her lips parted enough to show her teeth, another sign of her surprise, and the foot bracing against the wall began to tap.

Master Locke was going to...go along with it? If Mrurh'en'lase was hearing Master Locke correctly, she was going to get to enact her own plan of just dealing with the problem up front. Instead of feeling confident in the plan, she now felt worried. Was Master Locke just going to allow Mrurh'en'lase's plan to fail like it certainly would? Or would she help ensure that each rotten bastard in that place didn't walk out completely unscathed? Confusion wracked her mind as a new surge of indecision besieged her. No one had ever agreed to this simple plan, and now? Now of all days it finally was after Master Locke had just gone on her spiel of how her way was effective for missions like this? Mrurh'en'lase removed herself from her lean against the wall and was prepared to speak, to shake her head and say: "No...actually...you're right. We should just...stealth our way through."

She was going to say that with the tone of a sickly cat, only to stop mid-syllable by the appearance of the face, present in a suddenly appearing hole in the wall to the right of Master Locke. An endless void, perfectly circular, with red eyes and a Cheshire smile. It spoke with a vomit of sounds between each sentence as if it were expelling slime or tentacles from its imperceivable esophagus. "What's the problem? Don't you wanna kill 'em? Maim them? Punish them for their crimes to escape your own? Come on...it would be fun. Seeing them crawl without limbs and beg for m e r c y? Doncha want it? Doncha w a n t it? Doncha w a n t i t?"

The young padawan was seconds away from screaming at the face in the wall, stopping only due to the searing hand pressing down on the flesh of her shoulder. An armored figure appeared from the side, thrusting a burning sword of steel into the face and injuring it with one fluid motion. The face screamed obscenities before falling silent, sludge of unknown make pouring down from the hole in the wall. When the figure spoke, it spoke with an angelic hum and the kindness of a grandmother giving out fresh-baked cookies. "Don't listen to that thing, child. It means only to put you further down the path of irredeemability. Follow your plan for it is a good one, but do not kill unless necessary. A Jedi only kills when necessary."

Mrurh'en'lase blinked once, and the figure was gone, and the hole with the skewered face was gone. and she found herself mid-way through another one of Master Locke's speeches.

"Imagine the rays of sun that shine through a window, waves of light are the same, just a bit smaller. Thread the Force through those rays of light, weaving almost a cloak with your mind. The Force will bend and twist, conforming and creating a shadow to cloak yourself with. Take your time and focus; we have a few hours before we go blow those gonks to kingdom come."

Mrurh'en'lase nodded with genuine understanding of her Master's words, despite missing the beginning of the lesson. She moved to the center of the room, directly in front of Master Locke. Despite towering over her by almost a foot, Mrurh'en'lase felt small in her presence. The Force was concealed in a way around Master Locke, yet it was burning all the same and nearly dominating. If she wanted to, she could have ended her padawan without effort. Suddenly, Mrurh'en'lase felt terrified at the prospect of being held to the standard of this woman. Still, she was intent on at least assuaging Master Locke's desires of this...what was it...Force Cloak. And so, she began to breathe slowly and closed her eyes, just as she did on Tython to learn Tapas, which she did eventually gain some form of proficiency in.

Perhaps it was that experience or merely something she had always been good at but never had the time to practice, but Mrurh'en'lase was quick in departing the conscious realm into that of her mind. The world was dark there and made of black cobblestone barely lit by sconces attached to nothing. Her steps as she walked echoed far and near, but she was calm here. She was always calm here for a time, alone to her good thoughts and memories, at least until they showed up to duke it out over her mind and soul. That's when those thoughts and memories turned sour and left her melancholic and withdrawn.

The Shroud and the Halo. Parts of the Force that she could never quite understand the existence of. She knew them to be the Dark and Light side of the Force, yet...in all of her travels, she had yet to encounter anyone else who saw them the same way. It was always just the Force. There were no faces in the walls and no armored figures with burning swords of steel. Just the Force. It should have made her feel special, she thought, but it didn't. It made her feel like a freak, which she was. However, that was not the point of this. She was to make Master Locke proud and learn this ability, no matter how hard she had to try. If she could learn Tapas, she could learn Force Cloak.

So, in the "center" of that dark cobblestone floor, she stood and held her arms outstretched in front of her. There was nothing, at first, that came from the movements of her fingers or the rotations of her wrist. Only silence and slight exhales of fake air from her lungs as she attempted to maneuver what light there was into a cloak to shroud herself in. This is how it was for thirty minutes, or what she saw as thirty minutes. Nothing formed in her hands, or on the cobblestone floor, or anywhere under the light of those sconces. In the real world, she must have looked quite the fool, she thought.

A fool that everyone will laugh at. Is that what you want, Mrurh'en'lase?

The thought was given a quiet and distant voice - that is new - and it was enough to bring a groan of frustration to the surface. Mrurh'en'lase's eyes shot open as her hands rested on her hips, her consciousness now back in the real world. "I am trying, Master," she said in a small voice. "It is difficult."

 

[Allyson Locke]

//: Mrurh'en'lase | Hel //:

​

Allyson banked away Hel's sudden change in her desire to follow her ideas in attacking head-on. She would address that later; it concerned the Master that the padawan would quickly change her mind when Allyson agreed. She needed to develop confidence in her ideas and understand that it's okay to fall short. More to the Chiss & Zeltron hybrid than met the eye, and it was her job as a Master to guide. At times she wondered if there was a reason she was constantly assigned, troubled students. Was it because of the troubles she went through herself? Did they figure she'd be able to spot the red flags or that she would be sympathetic to their plight? Too many questions, but their answers weren't necessary.

The moment Hel began to attempt to force cloak, Allyson did her best to hide the surprise on her face. For how against the method of infiltration the hybrid was, to see her try and attempt the skill was unexpected. Allyson didn't tease, seeing that they were still in the stage of getting to know each other. Zaavik was too much like Allyson; it was easy to fall into line with teasing him, treating him like a younger sibling. Hel, on the other hand, there was more to her than met the eye, and Allyson needed to dig deeper to find out what that was.

She didn't miss that yard-long stare right before the padawan began her lesson. Something more was at play, and the Master was suspicious.

After a decent amount of time, Hel finally spoke. Allyson nodded but didn't show any disappointment in her student's inability to pick up the skill. "I know you did." Allyson had found a seat on a chair near the doorway of their small room. Standing, she moved to the center of the room. "Force Cloak is an ability that's pretty rare - by that, I mean it's rare that it comes naturally to some. Historically, it's a force power that draws upon one's connection to the dark side of the Force." Allyson waited a moment to gauge the padawan's reaction to this news. "Because a skill-based in the dark side doesn't make it completely evil, the intent behind it is what makes something evil." It was apparent this mantra was something the Jedi Master had to tell herself daily; with having an already innate ability to the dark side, she often struggled with her own identity because of it.

"Mechu Deru, Force Cloak, Void in the Force and Force Stealth, they all reside with the dark side, but because they were created to be hidden, to hide - things that the light has deemed unacceptable. The work I do, the work we do treads that line between light and dark - but our intention, our focus is what keeps us in the light's favor." It was a hard lesson to learn; it was harder to teach. "So the first step to learning Force Cloak, you need to be able to see the threads of the light, ones that weave themselves with the shadows of the Force. To do that, you have to see by way of the Force. Have you learned Force Sight yet?" Allyson waited, then spoke once more. "Just focus on the Force and close your eyes - feel and try to see the room around you. Tell me what you see and how you see it."​