Flames Can Be Rekindled

[Garza]

D A N T O O I N E
Newly acquired Imura Estate

Kinta was working on moving a few of the tools used in the forge from the cargo speeder into the estate. One that had been left abandoned long ago by Mandalorians, as well as those who had once been here for their Jedi Trials. Now it would be the base for the Primeval's new rise. I had aided them before. Fighting for the planets that the Host Lord claimed under her will. Now, I will do the same.

The Zabrak moved past me with a large box in her arms, as well as one floating behind her via the force. She was my most talented student to date. Though, there is a chance that could change. Having remnants of my men who had once worked for me with my company that I handed over to my successor, they left and still followed me. It was now that they helped to rebuild this shelter. As compensation for their aid, they would be allowed to live her under my name.

Moving from the forge myself, I headed outside to the cargo speeder. Looking through the various containers, and marking them on where to go. I took a moment to sit on the speeder's side. Reaching down, I felt along the back side of my knee through the pants I wore. My knee was hurting even more than normal. Considering what I had done on Korriban, I was sure that my body was dying just a little bit faster than I expected. Shaking my head, I stood up after popping some pain pills to sedate the pain.

While I normally wouldn't do that, I needed to prevent my knee from falling off. And because I was tired of this pain that I was feeling. I needed to do something about that. But, it would only be done in time.

For now, I would just continue to work.

[member="Joycelyn Zambrano"],

 

[Joycelyn Zambrano]

The pen clicked rythmically as Joycelyn scribbled down her journey in the log she kept on her datapad. She found it helped her keep track of the long lines and that it distracted her on the longer stretches of her journey. Journeys took time, and space could be so tedious, and oftentimes there was not enough space to practice what The Sword hat taught her. So, the beast was left in its cage, a smouldering fire waiting to be unleashed. Joycelyn was not a patient woman.

Now, she was, however, not in space. She was sitting on the back of a transport speeder she had hired to transport her as close to the newly settled estate as they dared. Which, was within sight of it, but not much further. The lowest of the locals were wary of such places. The estate had switched hands and was not unknown to oppressors. She had not heard that the new residents had acted as such yet, but the warning was welcome.

She jumped off the back of the speeder as it stopped and strapped on her backpack before tossing the driver a credit chip.

"Thank you Mr. Greoff. I will be just fine."

The smile and cheerful tone faded as quickly as she turned her back on the driver. Some kind words and humility got her this far, but she felt only a deep-seated irritation now that the speeder turned and moved away. Her attention sharpened as she put one foot in front of the other, following the faint trail left by other cargo-speeders in the employ of the estate.

She had come this far on a rumour and though it was scant, she had a feeling there was something there to find: Dantooine - Primeval space. The church had last vanished just after she had begun her training and she had few interactions with them. Now it would seem they had resurfaced and old contacts sprang into life once more. That is how she had come onto the trail of a rumoured master of "shaping", one [member="Nick Imura"] .

Her walking pace turned into a brisk jog as she could see movement up ahead. She did not try to hide, nor did she loudly announce her presence. The tall, dark-haired woman was simply there, visibly approaching in a jog. Her brown eyes intent on the Estate, and a seriousness carved into the chiselled face.