Escape From Witch Mountain

[Mediha]

They were grating on her nerves.

Zared was the very picture of respect, but beneath the surface always lingered that disobedience, the distaste for the Nightsisters that she had seen the day of their mortal combat for Ras. Anderit was open with his disrespect, though she had come to simply ignore it with time. He was a Nightbrother; it truly did not matter what he thought, and with that confirmation she had felt the last of her anger toward him dissipate.

What bothered her now was not their attitudes, but their presence overall. Mediha had spent most of her life valuing her space; with 'acolytes', and she used the term lightly, that space was gone. Even putting her plans into motion for Zeleni had been difficult without making them aware. Ta'litha had been a time sensitive matter; her plans were easy to conceal when it was a 24 hour problem. The next coup had taken so much longer to complete. Zeleni had required time and stealth; it had been an accident, after all.

And a fatal one, too.

A high whine drew her attention away from the plant she was gathering. She had taken a speeder to the far edge of the jungle where it met the mountain; a two-day trip that she doubted her acolytes would make, and one that did hold merit for her. Some herbs could only be gathered on the mountain, so she had agreed to get some for some of her fellow Nightsisters as well, those who brought unity and strength to the Clan in their own ways. And one who didn't.

Mediha shielded her eyes, but it wasn't difficult to spot the source of the sound. A small, sun-brightened object was falling to the planet and growing larger with each passing moment. Space craft. Mediha slowly finished putting the cut herbs into a pouch without taking her squinted eyes from the sky. The smoking wreck plummeted toward the jungle and disappeared into the trees with a distant thud. Mediha waited a moment, hand still on the pouch, but there was no forthcoming explosion.

The crash site wasn't far and she feared no off-worlder, especially in the dense jungle that would be a familiar aid to her and an unpleasant hindrance to others. She tied the pouch, tucked it in her pack, and ran to her speeder, revving it to life and using it to traverse the majority of the distance between them. She hadn't painted her face, and she debated the benefits of doing so. No. She would wait to see if the pilot yet lived and, if so, if it would be worth her trouble to even make her presence known.

She abandoned the speeder behind a dense copse of over-large ferns and finished the rest of the journey on foot. Utilizing her skills, she coated herself in magick, making her effectively invisible as she approached the ship and inspected the wreckage from a place half-hidden behind a curtain of hanging vines. The witch had not yet found a way to dissipate the faint distortion that always accompanied invisibility, a product of its nature as camouflage rather than true invisibility, but it would be impossible to notice in the jungle.

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Dathomir was not on the list of worlds he would have wanted to go to for the sake of recreation. In fact, the only reason he was even near it was because it happened to be along the route to Mandalore. He'd been going to the Mandalorian world strictly to observe. He wanted to know more about their warrior culture, and he had paid for his curiosity. The ship had a massive fuel leak; something he could have fixed easily enough, had it not suddenly caught fire once it came within the planet's atmosphere.

From there it was a straight drop to the planet's surface. The vessel's armor plating was sheared away by the intense heat, and parts of its inner workings were scorched as well. The engines had taken a heavy beating, though they managed to retain power long enough for the Jedi Padawan to land the ship relatively safely. In other words, he'd managed to keep the ship from falling apart, and keep himself breathing.

The landing was not a pleasant one. Had it not been for his seat belt, Darius would have been naught but a bloody mess along the ground below. The ship's fires went out shortly after the landing, but the thrusters were out of commission. She wasn't going to be flying anytime soon.

Groaning with discomfort, Darius forced himself out of the pilot's seat. With a stumbling gait, he managed to make his way outside, and breathed in the jungle air. This was Dathomir. This could be his death. Rumors of Nightsisters and wild Rancors were rampant in his mind. He had no allies out here.

Grumbling a curse under his breath, Darius thumbed the lightsaber that had sat upon his belt. The energy weapon hissed as its blue blade came to life. Hopefully that would ward off any nearby creatures.

Clad in a leather jacket, jeans, combat boots, armored pauldrons and durasteel gauntlets that ran from his hands up to a break just below his shoulder, Darius let his senses extend outward.

There was something nearby. Something powerful. A shiver ran down his spine. He was being watched.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

The pilot did stumble forth, crawling out of the wreckage. Mediha was not familiar with starships, but she imagined they were not supposed to be in so many smoking, mangled pieces. She wasn't sure it was actually repairable, but she was no mechanic. The Nightbrothers may have been able to help; they also might have had him killed or captured and brought before the Sisters as they were supposed to do. The more time Mediha spent with Zared and Anderit, the less sure she was that any Nightbrothers were loyal.

Disappointingly, the pilot was male. He groped for something at his waist, and Mediha leaned forward to try to get a better look. The electric blade that erupted moments later made her draw back. A Force User. Mediha eyed the blue lightsaber and masked her magickal presence; he was clearly wary, so it was possible he had sensed her already, but hiding her signature would prevent him from locating her exactly if he decided he was inclined to look. The gaze she leveled at him was calculating and dispassionate, rather than predatory. A young Force User-- Jedi, assumedly. She very much doubted he could compete with her in a contest of magick versus the Force.

Mediha let him amble around the area of his ship with blade drawn and paranoia running rampant while she considered the situation. There was little reason to help him. She should just let him die of natural causes while she finished her trip. But he would hear the speeder and might follow and survive to be a problem later on.

Odd collection of armor. He didn't look to be particularly skilled, but if he was a Jedi... Mediha's eyes practically glowed. Ta'litha's heart would be handy; any organ harvested from this male might prove even more useful.

He'll be safe enough to approach if I keep my distance. She would keep him off his guard for now; even if he had sensed her and had enough common sense to link her physical presence with it, she could pass for any witch of Dathomir. The Nightsisters were only one of many, after all, and not all clans followed their unique set of rules. She let her own senses out; a well of power, certainly, but with guile-- and maybe sheer force of will-- she was fairly certain of victory if it came to combat.

Moving behind the tree that housed the hanging vines, she let her invisibility go. Thankfully, she had chosen more neutral colors for this trip, and so there were no red robes to give her away, even assuming he knew what a Nightsister was. Mediha had never been convinced of the intelligence of outsiders. She peeked out between the vines, only her head visible in the gaps between the plants, and her expression was carefully neutral.

"Are you hurt?" she called, waiting for him to find her.

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

What?

The voice was feminine; something that he had feared. Yes, the Witches did dominate the planet, but Darius did not know this. All he knew of Dathomir were the rumors; ones of crazed women enslaving men and sacrificing them to their dark gods. It only took the Padawan a moment to pinpoint the source -- a woman, pretty enough, but all too unfamiliar. Dark blue eyes narrowed as he gazed at the woman. He was no fool.

"No," he lied, "Perfectly fine actually." He frowned, lowering his lightsaber somewhat, though the weapon was not replaced. He dare not keep his eyes off the stranger, lest she try some sort of trick. Odds were she had friends nearby, and Darius was going to have to defend himself. He was, at the very least, confident enough in his own abilities not to surrender. Death would be a kinder fate than whatever the witches would have in store for him.

"Everything's fine. Just a minor malfunction. Easily fixed." Darius was on the defensive. This was a strange world, with strange customs, and unknown people. He truly had no idea what to expect of the woman.

That faint presence in the force had disappeared all together as well. The woman had shown her face a moment later. Darius made the somewhat obvious connection; this one was a force sensitive, and had mastered the art of the small.

Shab.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

He was too on his guard to be buying her attempt at nonchalance. Mediha eyed him, sure that he saw his own distrust mirrored in her face, and then let her eyes slide to his spaceship again. Her expression indicated her utter disdain for the pitiful attempt at a lie and her complete disbelief as well.

"Of course." Mediha's voice was even, her tone dry. She could try to kill him now, but he would retaliate and it could get messy. He would not be going anywhere in that ship; he was trapped. With her presence masked, she had time to come back later in the day-- or, more likely, the evening-- when his guard was down. A few subtle spells and she would be well on her way to gathering potent magical materials in addition to her herbs. He wasn't worthy enough to live, as she had expected.

"Good luck, then." She pulled back behind the tree and pushed off of it, walking away from the crash site and using the plants as natural cover. She kept her awareness sharp behind her, not wanting to find that he was willing to conduct a surprise attack in spite of her clear disregard for him and his situation. Her knowledge of the Jedi was limited to the stories all Nightsisters were told as warnings against them and the reports their off-world Sisters brought back on their infrequent trips home. Wiliness was a known trait among them; Mediha would not be taken in so easily, even if her target did appear young and foolish.

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

She was gone. Darius breathed an audible sigh of relief. He needed time to clear his head; not deal with village people. Dousing his lightsaber, the Jedi Padawan turned toward the ruined ship. It wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. He had the tools to repair the damage on the ship, but that would take time, and that woman knew where he was. Odds were she would return, possibly with friends. The idea shook him to his very core.

"I'm not dying like this." He grumbled as he clipped his lightsaber to his belt. He took a quick glance over his shoulder -- nothing. With an audible sigh, he made his way toward the edge of the forest, and began lopping down small tress with his lightsaber.

As the hours passed, he erected a somewhat defensible camp. The trees came down quickly, and Darius was a strong young man. With a bit of effort, he managed to place a wall of wooden spikes around the entrance of the ship. No beast was getting aboard without his notice. Four wooden spears had been carved and placed by his bedside. He would begin work on the shuttle tomorrow after he'd had some rest.

He sat in darkness as he chewed on the emergency rations he'd brought with him. That woman would come back, and he would be waiting.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Spears.

Mediha almost laughed.

The palisade of wooden spikes might keep out beasts, but it wasn't going to stop any of the witches on the planet, Nightsister or otherwise. Did he have throwing spears on hand, too? Did he not understand what witch-fire was?

Blessed Fanged Goddess, he's worse than Anderit. She frowned at the camp's defenses. If she had any sense of compassion, she might have felt pity for how easily he was going to die.

At least he came up with some idea of defense, she thought, her time as a teacher coercing her into the faint, if silent, acknowledgement. She waited patiently in the high branches of a tree, chewing on food of her own and watching him from the safety of the shadows. He didn't look like he would sleep soon; she would get rest of her own, then. He could keep watch. If this took longer than expected, she could harvest from the jungle what extra sustenance she ended up needing and simply get back to the village a day late. There were plenty of excuses.

She settled back, knowing it would be a restless sleep given the conditions, but willing to accept rest in any form. Her nap lasted for an hour or two before she woke to check on him again; she peered down over his camp, her grip on the tree firm to prevent a fall. The camp below was silent; the Jedi was lying prone on the ground. Mediha carefully descended from the tree, falling with magick-silenced feet to the forest floor when she had gotten as low as she could. She allowed a minor expense of power for the illusion of her usual Nightsister markings; there was no more need for subterfuge.

With shadows as her protection, she cautiously approached the campsite, probing gently for magickal barriers or traps in her way. The Force was not magick, but, if he could sense her, as she believed he had, than she should be able to sense his Force in the same way.

When nothing immediately presented itself, she called on the power in her and fed tendrils of magic along the ground, sending them snaking toward him while she kept back from his fortifications. The tendrils crossed one another's paths as they multiplied, streaking the area around where the Jedi lay before easing over his limbs, threads of toxic green that glowed faintly when alone but had rapidly built into a light source of their own as they grouped around him and began to settle over him. Once done, the spell should hold him should he awake-- and could burn like acid, if she needed it.

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

The dreams came to him once again. The planet was entombed in endless fire. Skyscrapers tumbled over. Citizens lamented on the streets below. Flying vessels came crashing to the ground in flaming hulks. Few would survive this night. Darius eyed the man standing alongside him. Bright blue eyes, sandy hair, and a terrible scowl. He stared out at the flames, and Darius did too. All he felt was pity.

Then something grabbed him.

The dark tendrils wrapped around the Padawan just as he began to awaken. His gaze immediately went for his lightsaber -- he'd left it within arms reach. The tendrils were some kind of force amalgamation, that much he had gathered. The witches had come for him.

His master had taught him to remain calm in situations such as this, but rage boiled within him. He would not be some plaything for these strange women to use. He would not be sacrificed to a false god he had never heard of. Darius had a destiny, and it would not end here.

He struggled against the bindings, spat his curses, and stared at the familiar form of the woman he'd seen earlier. He'd known she would return, though the fact that she was alone surprised him.

The lightsaber at his side raised half a meter into the air.

"I'm not bested so easily witch."

The weapon hissed as it came to life, and was flung forward through powerful telekinetic strength in a deadly arc toward [member="Mediha"].

 

[Mediha]

She had drawn too close to the sheen of moonlight that set the Jedi and his crash site aglow. The break of trees from his entry blazed in its light while the rest of the jungle was a deep blanket of shadow pierced by periodic beams of light. Her mistake meant he knew where she was, so she waited to see what he would do, shifting lithely on her feet. When he made his reply, Mediha was busy eyeing the rising lightsaber warily. An interesting choice for attack; when it activated and flew at her in one singular motion, she ducked aside and vanished from his sight into the shadows, but she maintained a tight grip on her spell net. He would not be bested easily, but she would not be broken easily. She had never seen Anderit use his lightsaber that way, but she hadn't really explored telekinesis with them yet either. It was something she would keep in mind for later.

Behind her, she heard the ominous creaking of a tree falling and glanced back just long enough to be certain that it wasn't going to collapse in their direction. The glow of the lightsaber's blade was all too clear in the darkness. Knowing it would come back sooner than later, she fell back, moving to a new location. Her change of position was obscured by the darkness. She avoided the pillar of moonlight that was the crash site and twisted her spell. The threads pulsed with light once and began to shift, pulling tighter to the ground, bowing his skin under the pressure and threatening to cut into his flesh.

Mediha stepped forward just enough that the moonlight gilded her face, setting her illusion-painted features in sharp relief and centering her glinting eyes at the heart of pits of darkness. A silent monster she stood for a moment, watching her prey, and then she glanced to the side and fell back into shadow as the lightsaber pinpointed her location again and came flying back, slicing through where she once stood and taking several more trees with it.

"You're going to bring down the whole jungle like that," she finally commented as she changed location again. With a pass of her hand across her throat, she threw her voice to the other side of the clearing. "Haven't you done enough damage?" Again, her voice moved while she stayed far from it, lowering to a haunting whisper. "How much more will you do to fight the inevitable?"

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Controlling the movements of the lightsaber was taxing. Talented as he might be, Darius was little more than a Padawan, and drastic shows of his power like that could prove to be exhausting. His chest rose and fell violently as he struggled to draw in breath -- the woman's magick was crushing him. The lightsaber flew back near his side. It clattered across the ground at the end of its approach, its bright blue light extinguished.

"Nothing is set in stone," he half-choked, half-growled, "This isn't how I die." He had not come to accept his fate yet. He was too inexperienced, had too much life to live to meet his demise so early in his career. Especially not at the hands of a nameless witch.

The force was a powerful thing. Darius had never been able to immerse himself within it completely in the past. The task had always proven itself to be too daunting, and his meditations had done little to open any previously closed doors. He'd resigned himself to simply waiting for it to take him in, as his teachers advised. He did not expect such a thing to happen here on this damned world.

His eyes drifted shut, and [member="Mediha"] became little more than a passing concern. His anger, the rage, the disbelief were all gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of calm and sureness. With that same power he had commanded to attack with his lightsaber, he pressed outward. It was a repulse of telekinetic power, designed to break the magick's hold on him if nothing more. He needed to be free to stand his ground, after all.

 

[Mediha]

Mediha studied him as she felt the rapid expansion of pressure against her spell. She pushed back for a moment, but the threads of the net snapped in several places; with the weakening of the spell, it eventually shredded entirely, and Mediha cut her losses and withdrew her power.

Interesting.

He was not long in getting to his feet; with his ability to move, she avoided the moonlight entirely now. He could still be an easy kill, and pity certainly didn't stay her hand, but she was curious now. Everyone got lucky at times. This could be more, though, and she had never been close to a Jedi before. Already his escape from her trap had brought forward more ideas-- could she modify the witch-bolt to strike like lightning? Pierce armor?-- and the learning value of prolonging the encounter warred with her desire to finish the fight she knew she could win.

Mediha was not like some of her powerful sisters. She did not taunt; she had never before taken pleasure in the torture that brought the best results. She was efficient-- cunning, certainly, and methodical-- and that more than any dramatics or playing drove her fighting style.

With a thought, invisibility rippled over her form. She would take no chances now. As she had thought earlier, everyone got lucky.

 

[Cedric Grayson]

A moment later and Darius was free. Well, free as one could consider himself when being stalker by witches in the dead of night. She was stalking him now; he could feel her eyes upon him. The lightsaber flew into his hand. This one would not have his head; not after how far he had come to get to where he was today. She would have a fight on her hands, and the victor was yet to be decided.

"Why don't you come out so we can talk?" He called out; a veiled threat, though it could have been genuine. There was determination there too.

The lightsaber hissed as it came to life, providing some form of light in the darkness of night. His eyes darted from one shadow to the next. The witch could hide herself within the force, and Darius was not particularly skilled in picking up other living beings anyway. He hadn't had the time or the experience needed to hone such a skill.

Still, he knew when something wanted to do him harm. He leveled the blade down toward the ground and stood tall, defiant even. "I'd hate for one of us to get hurt."

That someone is gonna be you.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

He reminded her of Anderit now that he had his feet beneath him: all bravado and snark. Her hand twitched, magick beginning to grow between her fingers. He would pose right until she overwhelmed him.

I am being selfish.

Her lips thinned at the thought and, after a moment, the magick dissipated. His death would benefit her, certainly, but not her Clan. And then, it would only benefit her briefly. The learning value outweighed the power she might gain from his death, not to mention the added value of whatever useful items he might have on hand in his ship. Jedi were supposedly... helpful. She eyed the lightsaber again. Although she was fairly certain his offer to "come out and talk" was not sincere, there might be the chance to salvage this situation. She would take no risks to do so, though.

"We are more likely to talk if I don't come out," she commented, voice bouncing from one location to another, echoing itself. "I doubt your sincerity. Do you have a name?"

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

"I doubt your sincerity."

A karking genius this one.

"Darius." That was a start. He was having to recall exactly what he was -- a Jedi. He should not have been so eager to fight, even if it meant the preservation of his own life. Breathing a heavy sigh, he doused the lightsaber and clipped it to his belt. It was a gesture of peace; however close he could get to that here anyway. His arms folded over his chest as he scanned the tree line.

"We'd be on more level ground if you came out." he narrowed his eyes. If the witch wanted to talk, then they would talk. She was not, however, going to be tricking him into following her home. The fact that he had only seen one meant one of two things. Either the others were waiting for the right moment to pounce, or she was alone out here. For whatever reason, he felt like it was the latter.

"Let's talk."

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Mediha shook her head, though his actions worked to her advantage. She had said talk, not go unarmed. Well, even fools had some merits sometimes; she hoped this was one of those cases.

He has things other than the lightsaber at his disposal. Perhaps not as foolish as he seemed. A lure? Something to draw her in in order to trap her?

Safe behind cover both magickal and physical, she set two spells in motion: one for protection and one for insurance. The latter she left running silently, the unfortunately bright green of Nightsister magick hidden behind tree and shrub as it grew and built on its own; the other, a curtain spell, shimmered to life in front of her before she shed her invisibility and left her cover. The woman crossed a yard or more of shadow and stepped into the edge of the moonlight about half-way across the clearing from him, shoulders back and chin level, confident but not challenging. Unlike him, there had been more than enough time for her to memorize his face and form; her gaze was direct, piercing across the sudden silence.

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

She didn't see the shattergun. Good. He'd hidden it within the folds of his coat, though if she gave him no reason to use it, all the better. She was smaller than he'd imagined. When folks mentioned the witches, he always thought of tall, imposing women. This one carried herself like those that he'd seen in media, but she certainly did not have the physical attributes to go along with it.

Of course, that did not mean she was not dangerous. Far from it in fact.

"Didn't get your name," he quipped in greeting, "S'pose this was the help you were offering earlier, yeah?" He lofted a brow. Darius may not have been the most experienced guy in the galaxy, but he was smart. He knew when he was being played, and that offer could not have been genuine. Her actions tonight had proven his assumptions; as per the usual.

"Any reason you were trying to kill me, or was my shirt just offending you?" A quip of sarcasm, but Darius had challenge in his eyes. He was no Nightbrother. Darius could think and act for himelf. He was subservient to no one save his master.

He'd survived worse than Dathomir on Endor. The latter world was far more dangerous than the Nightsister's home; why he had been afraid of this place he had no idea.

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

It took willpower not to roll her eyes. She kept comparing him to Anderit, but perhaps Zared was the real outlier, and this was just how most men were. Obnoxious.

"I restrained you; my spell didn't break flesh." Truth. She had, in fact, done nothing but restrain him-- before he stopped her anyway. "And, as I recall, you refused my more polite advances earlier. You're on our planet. I'm well within my rights to take you rather than let you perish in the jungle." She raised her eyebrows, and dryly, almost harshly, added, "I suppose your 'easily fixed' ship presented a challenge, as you are still here."

He wanted to call her on her words? She could do the same. He was no more honest with her, so who was he to take the high road in the conversation? His intentions toward her were still somewhat hostile; it was all too obvious in his pose, his caution. He would attack her, possibly without reason now that he knew her intentions toward him didn't involve him having autonomy.

"A Force User is a rarity; you would be useful to the Clan, where your corpse feeding the jungle beasts would just be a waste." Also truth, now that she had thought of it.

A distant bellow broke the silence, but Mediha didn't break their gaze. Beasts were out hunting; so long as they stayed far from this place, their conversation would go uninterrupted.

"I'm sure they'd love to see how sturdy your weapons are."

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

She spoke truth. Darius visibly relaxed at that. She probably could have killed him in that moment had she wished it; that much he acknowledged. His lips parted to offer a retort, but the bellowing of some monster in the distance momentarily stole his attentions. It reminded him of the Gorax, massive humanoids monsters that regularly fed on Ewoks and humans alike back on Endor. He'd evaded them many times, even killed one, but they had always forced him to remain on the move; to live in fear. Could he deal with that again? Perhaps.

"Being eaten would serve as a better end than becoming a slave," he pointed out, though she might not understand that. Dathomir was far too out of the way to understand how the rest of the galaxy worked. They did not have to participate in the struggle against Sith oppression. This planet was a backwater, and their customs reflected such.

"There's an issue with the thrusters. It's time consuming, but the repairs are do-able." That much was the truth. He understood what this one wanted; she wanted his services for her native clan. That could have been a genuine offer in exchange for...something. Or she intended to enslave him, as most Nightsisters did. He certainly wasn't a fan of the latter.

"I need to not be bothered. What can you clan do for me to make that happen?" He lofted a brow, genuinely considering her words to some extent. "I won't become one of your slaves I'll say that much. I've seen what happens to the men your people offer help."

[member="Mediha"]

 

[Mediha]

Defending their customs would get her nowhere. Off-worlders rarely understood. Mediha saved her breath.

"Death is better than nothing." She had no interest in him leaving; that helped her not at all. A repaired ship meant he would leave, which would be good for him, but a waste of time for her. She was meant to already be on her way back to the village, but this had delayed her, and the benefit to her Clan held her-- for now. They were still talking; Mediha took stock of his stance, the placement of his hands, her surroundings. Did he have something up his sleeve? What? "You're asking the wrong questions. I hear you asking for help, but I hear no exchange. You're stranded here; what can you possibly offer to make it worth letting you go?"

He was still over-confident. Yes. There was something up his sleeve, a weapon or trick of the Force. The Nightsister debated if the safeguards she had in place would be enough. For the moment, he considered them on equal footing; Mediha knew herself to have the upper hand, should she need it.

"Think quickly." There was a sound not too distant, a sound of something in the undergrowth rooting around. More likely than not it wasn't dangerous, but this was clearly the interloper's first visit. He wouldn't know that, though he might suspect it.

[member="Darius"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Nothing I would use for you.

Darius did not answer at once. He was considering his options. She didn't know about the Shattergun. A quick shifting of his hand and she would have a hole the size of a lightsaber through her torso. He had no doubt she had some form of backup too, but it was quite unlikely such could reach him in time to save her. But Darius was not a murdered, as much as he was willing to posture.

"I'm a Jedi. I'm sure you can guess." He stated plainly. Even here people knew of the Order. They understood what Jedi could accomplish. She did not need to know that he was only a student, or that his skills with the force were untrained and wild. He had little control over them, resulting in outbursts such as the one that freed him from her tendrils.

Something moved within the brush. It was small, but small could still be dangerous. He frowned. "Besides, if you try something, I might die, but I can assure you that you wouldn't walk away unscathed." That was the irrefutable truth. If she insisted on being hostile, then she would have to pay for it.

"Still haven't gotten a name."

[member="Mediha"]