The Forge Fires Burn Bright

[Julius Sedaire]

Location: Tython, near Vur Tepe​

​

Ijaat coughed as he rolled over in the dust caking him. A small poof of the dust drifted up from him and he coughed again as he pulled himself out of the smoking wreckage. He had mostly jumped as the ship went down. The ca'tra jair propulsion system pulled from his armor during the voyage. The craft was a second-hand one from his contacts in the Underground and Outback. They hadn't known him, but forged credentials got him the ship with hardly any question, and it had moderate stealth capabilities. Most of the Sith had been evaded.

One patrol in particular had caught him, his fake IFF saw through. Remnants of a Warlord planet side, and not terribly powerful. Escaping into atmo was easy enough with Geoff piloting, the A.I. could fly quite well. Once low enough he had let them blow the ship, and ejected into the sky in his suit via hanging onto a bit of the emergency exit door to disguise him visually and in scanners. Unforseen, they circled the wreckage, and Ijaat peeled off with repulsors burning hot. Landing had gone badly when a piece of the wreckage had struck his makeshift door disguise.

Tumbling, he had landed in the overall field of debris of his craft, but still alive. Bruised and battered, but alive. Urgency drove him to stumble and tstand up, throwing aside the door with a quick toss. They would be here soon, and he must not be. Reaching down he grabbed his pack to find it mostly intact. A soldiers pack. Field rations, scanners, assorted copies of his studies with the holocrons of Jacen Solo and Caedus. Conjecture on what the Codex hinted at was the 'Forge Temple of the Je'daii'....

Dust swirling, he looked at the scanner on his wrist, a simple compass really, and set off in the right direction.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

It seemed like hours, but the chronometer indicated just one had passed when he saw fighters go streaking overhead. Barely did he manage to dive into a rock pile as it screamed by. He sat there for ten minutes, or so the 'meter said. As he sat there, he remembered a hunt with Darius, before the boy had been taken. It was one of his first with his elder son, Quintus being a little less ready than his twin. They had hid in the plains of concord dawn from an Elder Tu'r Rekr, and waited for it to pass. His son had even stalked it back to it's lair to make sure that it was gone and truly off their scent.

It had been a proud moment for him as a father. Stealth had never been his strong suit, but he had embraced seeing Darius excel at it naturally, and had approached the Natives, who said when he had become a man he could come to them for training in their ways of hunting and stalking. A rare honor from them. But that had ended when [member="Reverance"] had shown up. Maybe he hadn't known that the boys he drug away were his great-nephews. Or the woman was his niece, wife to his nephew. Or maybe he did, and didn't care. Either way, Darius had been taken. Killed, hopefully, and not enslaved, before he ever had a chance to take the path of the Hunter with the natives of Concord Dawn.

Standing up he checked the action of his shatter-rifle and set off again in the right direction. Soon he could use his flight systems.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Another few hours passed, and Ijaat stopped at the edge of a set of foothills that began to lead into mountains. This would be where he needed to use the propulsion system. Cached reports from before the One Sith reported this area as treacherous to crossing. It would slow him by a time of days or weeks depending on paths, avalanches, and more. He had already experienced a few roving packs of sith-spawn. It was quite disheartening to see Tython laid so low for what amounted to pure vanity's sake. If anything, it strengthened his resolve, though he was leery of letting it fan fires of hatred. A place like this might be strong in neutrality, in balance, but the One Sith had lain thick the scum of the Dark Side, and he couldn't afford to be seduced to one side or the other. His rebirth again at [member="Ajira Cardei"]'s hands had re-awoken that part of him.

Looking up to the sky, he adjusted his rifle to his back and placed his hands just so. Repulsors whined and sputtered, before he suddenly shot from the ground in a swift arc to the sky, keeping as low as was feasible. Ground blurred by him and he was awash in memory again, letting Geoff pilot him as the A.I. interfaced with the sytems via the SHADEZ he had gotten ages ago from his friend [member="Xander Carrick"].

Memories of the time his son Quintus had gone flying with him. It was just a simple patrol on Concord Dawn. But the lad had taken the control stick when offered and done admirably. And when a group of mercenaries hiding in a desert had came howling after them, he had given them the slip and even scuttled one of their craft, all with a Father about to unhinge at the loops and twists that he was performing. Along with being a poor pilot, Ijaat was nervous during the higher points of flight acrobatics. But his Son had done such any Corellian would have seen the potential and raw ability.

A few weeks later, the bright boy who might have been a pilot or a doctor had been taken, and Ijaat's slow spiral into insanity had begun.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Night came now, and so Ijaat made his camp in the middle of the mountain ranges. He was maybe another day's journey. If his guess was right, at about noon tomorrow he would stop and rest. For now, he avoided fire. Too obvious. Instead he pulled a thick insulated blanket over him, with a quick pre-fab shelter he had blended into the rocks the best he could. Now came the time to read and meditate, and sleep, so that he was ready for the journey. Opening his pack, he drew out a datapad that was dimmed and flicked it on, waiting for it to boot up.

As he did so, he tried to keep his mind steadied and quiet, reading over the collected bits of data. The Codex had scattered accounts and knowledge of a former Master of a place called 'Vur Tepe' which seemed to be both Forge and Temple for the Je'daii. By all accounts, he was not only an accomplished warrior and swordsman, but an astoundingly gifted metallurgist and smith. And a powerful Force User. He had made metals, or developed them further from existing ones. Ones that could do something, although what was unclear, with the Force itself. And was nigh indestructible.

That was what he was here to find. The account and knowledge of that man, and what he had developed. Seek what he had sought.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

At some point, he must have fallen asleep. He was awoken to the sounds of something snuffling around his tent. What it was he wasn't sure, but he pulled a combat knife from his boot sheath and waited. The outside of the tent swirled, pressing in and billowing out. Something dark, twisted by the Force, lurked. A creation of the One Sith turned loose. Or just a native beast of the planet twisted by the nexus the Sith had created here. Either way, he gripped the knife in a reverse grip, and when the tent poked in again near the door... Ijaat leaped out with an animalistic snarl, swinging the knife with vicious gusto.

Whatever it was by his tent recoiled, and the knife bounced from a scaled hide. As he scuttled and rolled to his feet, it rushed at him. An akk dog, then, his eyes saw. It bowled him over, and he winced as he felt a rib likely break, or bruise at the least. Resolute, he grabbed it by the throat as claws and teeth grazed and tore at him. Jerking back, screaming as it tore at his armored vest and coat, but got nowhere. The knife rammed down straight into the akk dog's eye, and he pulled back and it jerked and convulsed. Over and over he pounded the knife into it's eye, through the socket into the brain.

When he finally stopped, he dragged himself up, wincing in pain, and began limping about. More would come, soon. He would need to leave.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Packed. Adjustments had to be made to the harness, to compensate for the limp. A basic field kit held a bandage paste and wrap to help hold his ribs in place. Geoff estimated that the rib was fracture, but not broken, and not badly at that. The impact had been glancing, and he was far enough from the rock it couldn't run him to ground against it, merely dirt. Again, he looked to the sky as he adjusted his hands and took a deep breath in. A rebreather was clamped between his teeth, along with a goggle frame for his SHADEZ. Total facemask as the cold grew deeper and the air thinner and thinner the further into the mountains he went.

As the repulsors launched him into the sky, he took in the mountains. On the edge of his vision was an irregularity that he took for his destination, and so he pushed the repulsors to their max. He had recharged the power packs on the ca'tra jair just so he could push the limits of speed for it. Push the system to it's max and go further than it meant to. Estimates put him at arriving there at roughly high noon, fitting for him really. The systems whined, sparking here and there, but held. The Akk dog in the night had damaged some of the connections and repulsors, but thanks to a small repair kit he had managed to get it back to working at full capacity. But for how long, he was unsure.

He would get to the Temple. On bare and bloody feet years from now, if must be. Ajira knew. Here would he atone.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Power readings showed low and he had backed off the speed as much as he dared. It was a poor bet to see if first speed or distance would win out. He wasn't sure, with the damage proving to be a bit more expansive, if the recharge ports could pull off another recharge like earlier. So he read through the data on the complex of Vur Tepe, which was sparse. As he approached closer, details began to show one thing. The Tho Yor, the mysterious spaceships some said predated the Celestials, or other said were made by them for mysterious purposes, was active. It was floating above the Temple surface. All he knew of it said it should be nestled in a cradle the Je'daii made around it.

Changing tactic, he headed for that first. If it was active, then maybe he could get to it. And if he could get to it, maybe he could get within it. After the beginnings of the Je'daii and after their sojourn, none had been inside one. The knowledge he might be able to glean was beyond imagining. Secrets and more. And who knew, maybe weapons and armor or other lost treasures. One of the few places he could guarantee that what was within would be pristine and undisturbed. Vur Tepe itself would be taken care of later. The Tho Yor was his target now, and whatever it may or may not have within it. Hopefully he could use the minimal talents at mechu deru that [member="Spark Finn"] had taught him to interface with the machine and Geoff and get some sort of scan of it's databanks.

And then he would begin his atonement by cleansing the Temple itself.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Meters showed the distance closing, and his power level dropping still. Shutting off the SHADEZ and everything connected to his system with the odd mish-mash network he had made, he passed an order to Geoff. His A.I. was instructed to filter every ounce of power from everything he could to the thrust in the repulsors. Still, they sputtered, and a few times his thrust died and faltered. But he was close now, closer and closer. Thoughts of his wife Aerin echoed in his head. Her fiery red hair, the compassion belying a hard edge that would never let him slack. The way her being all that he wanted pushed him to be more and stronger, to be all that she wanted and deserved. Or as close to it as he could come.

With a last oomph of effort, the repulsors swelled, and he clattered against the side of it, scrabbling for purchase against a nearly smooth side. Panic set in as he realized he didn't know how to open the bloody door! Or where it was even. Pawing he pounded the sides. He might be able to make the jump and cushion himself enough with telekinetics to survive relatively unscathed. But right now he could not forgive his ignorance in becoming so narrow-minded. The high sun beat overhead as he reached out with his senses. Technology was a good resort, and one could not depend too much on the Force for everything. Calling the Force to him, he probed the Tho Yor with his mind and the Force, pleading for it to open as his fingers ached and clung to the lips of the plating on the ship.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Seconds turned to minutes. Time ticked by relentlessly, but all Ijaat could sense was a void. A mystery. Great power and promise and history were locked in this. Flashes of the past, weak and indistinct, radiated through psychometric impressions. But nothing answered his plea. Slowly, he prepared to let go of the sides and make his descent to the Temple in defeat. Too high, he had aimed too high in his lofty goals. Let obsessions again grab and distract him. At the moment he almost let go, the Force seemed to swirl around him, pulsing within the pyramidal shaped ship. In shock almost, he clung tighter suddenly, worried what his probing might have set off.

Clanking a bit, like a nautilus door on ancient submarine vessels. the symbol of the Je'daii graven on the side retracted at one of the panels, sliding into the others. A space into the craft was revealed, and Ijaat saw little but darkness. Still he shuffled his way across the lip. Careful step by step, aware that a fall would be quite painful. If not fatal. Darkness covered the insides of the place, but he did not raise a weapon. Standing on the front of the entrance, he drew himself up to his full height in his new body, flexing muscles. And then he did something a few might call insane. He disengaged and removed as much of his gear as he could.

With the trappings of his profession and old life left at the entrance, Ijaat proceeded into the Tho Yor's depths to be reborn.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Lights began to flicker on as he stepped inside. The ship appeared to be more a large sort of living quarters and transport than a cockpit or landing ramp or anything. Visions flickered like mad in his mind with every step. He had left his coat behind, and Geoff now rode in the cybernetics wired to his brain. Otherwise, Ijaat wore simple fatigue pants and a sleeveless shirt. For once, he had forgone tattoos on his flesh, and only smooth new skin was to be seen. Bare feet sparked the connection needed for each and every mini vision, and as each occurred, he had Geoff and the Cybernetics recorded.

Snippets, flashes of color and sound and surroundings. But maybe with slower and repeated viewing something would be gained. Eventually, he reached roughly the center of the thing, and just shook his head. He had expected consoles, treasures, but he could see little that made sense to him. The inside wasn't vacant, but there was nothing obvious which he could take or study. So instead, he sat cross-legged on the floor and closes his eyes, beginning to meditate inside the ancient ship. Hands were placed on the deck, or floor, of the Tho Yor as he began to quietly let his mind drift. In and out with each breath went his focus. In and out. Waiting for the Force to speak to him.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As he meditated, he touched the ship with his mind through the Force, allowing a bridge of connection between him and the implacable mind of the ship. Stories described it not needing a pilot, or indeed lacking any sort of controls in some accounts. Maybe Celestial technology had such oddities. Maybe the Living Force itself propelled the craft, or something similar. As his mind touched that presence at the heart of the ship, Geoff flowed forward along with his own consciousness. Images came faster and faster, lasting longer in length and duration, but taking fractions of a moment to sear into his mind. Concepts, philosophy, knowledge. All things flowed along this connection to the heart of the Tho Yor.

In the texts he had, there were warnings against what he guessed were doing exactly this. That the mind of a man could not suffice to contain the presence of the Tho Yor. But from the very shape and purpose of the ship in blueprint form to hidden memories it's passengers and faithful had held, he drank in the wisdom of generations past. And certainly, a normal mind might have burnt out. But thanks to the cybernetics he wore at the back of his skull, and the assistance and direction of the A.I. he called Geoff, he maintained. He persisted. Pain flared between his eyes, knifing back along the median of his skull, as a trickle of blood came from his nose.

Outwardly he showed no sign of this struggle, maintaining a calm, only his eyelids flickering and his breathing showing any signs of life.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The sound of hammers rang in his mind. On his face, he could feel the heat of the forges of millennia past. Hands that were not his moved over exotic woods and leather wrapping hafts of hammers that he had never seen the like of. Time stretched and dilated like a falling droplet of water in slow motion. His breathing even seemed to slow to almost a stop. Without his knowledge, a storm brewed around the Tho Yor. Whatever he had done in accessing the ship had awoken something, or so it would seem.

Knowledge flowed into him. Knowledge of techniques he had never dreamed of. Knowledge of materials that even knowing their makeup, he could not replicate. Lost arts and ways bloomed, grew, and died in reflections on his eyes. Sweat drenched him now, and his breathing hitched in and out when he breathed at all. Finally, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his breathing seemed to slow until it stopped, and so too did the visions, pausing in a certain place and time.

Slowly then his mind began to calm and settle, memories and knowledge setting as he came back to the time of the vision from his own nightmare.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Though his eyes were open, only the whites showed. What he saw before him was not the clean interior of the Tho Yor. Instead what he saw was a massive forge with strange and ancient devices, and before him a male Cathar labored. Somehow, he moved without willing himself to move. Walking up to the Cathar, he felt his body tense as he watched the other pull a piece of metal from the fire. For whatever reason, the steel glowed like it would any other time, but yet brighter than the heat it was at suggested by the way it shaped and worked. The brightness wasn't heat either. Ijaat knew how fire and forge felt on his skin, despite having been 'born' three times now.

The metal thinned, being drawn out longer and longer, folded over. It was obviously something still being made, and in the vision he walked over to a table behind the Cathar. Formulas, sketches, metallurgical analysis and spectrum readouts. A hand covered in scales turned pages, and new things swam before his eyes. Notes on how the metal was infused, from the beginning of the smelting, with the Force. Every particle and atom it would seem. In an almost real way, the piece on that anvil was alive, if without sentience. It would, by these notes, and feelings he now noticed, have it's own presence in the Force. And it would take even easier to things like Force Imbuement.

Pages turned, detailing the material, and between pages he turned to watch the Cathar at the Forge. Still yet he knew not what caused this pause.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

The Cathar at the anvil paused, and motioned him forward. There was a ferocity in his movements even when forging. A predatory grace Ijaat equated with the few Cathar he had known in his life. Always, they were unequaled warriors and brilliant minds. Singularly gifted at war and particularly suited to the quest of chasing the forge fires. This one had bright eyes with a calm fire to them. Smith or no, Ijaat had no doubt in his mind as those orbs fixated on him that he would and had walked through hell without flinching. The hand fell to the Cathar's side as he began to speak, brushing long braids and scraps of his proud mane from his face.

"Come forward Journeyer... You have watched me every day for a week or more, and read my notes when you thought I was not looking. Your mind thirsts, more so than some of your peers. I would see what you know of the fires and anvil."

The baritone growl rumbled out, and again the Cathar motioned Ijaat. Without thought, the vision showed his scaled form - just whose perspective was this? - striding forward. A clawed hand reached out and curled around a hammer the other had held. With only mild hesitation, he began to lightly tap the metal. If the one he rode with in this sending had read and retained what he had, academically he knew it was too light. But practicality often outweighed academia in this arena. Each blow gained strength as the Cathar nodded, seeming pleased with the motions and work as he folded the billet back on itself several times before placing it again in the forge.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Drawing out. The metal seemed to want to almost move to his will rather than the strength of his blows. Flowing more like clay than metal. That was when Ijaat realized that the one he rode behind the eyes of must be applying the Force not to his blows, but to every piece of the puzzle. To the metal, to slow cooling and strengthen it, to the hammer to guide it true and lend power to the blow. To his arms, to lend them speed and help them ignore the fatigue that would quickly build. When the fires caressed the billet the Force was fed to them to keep them at just a certain level of heat - not too cold or hot.

The mastery that this required was obviously taxing, and after a few turns back and forth, the Cathar stepped forward. As the billet went back in, ready for the final folding, he stepped back and the Cathar took the tongs and hammer. There was no disapproval or the like in the face of the other, just determination. As the steel came out, glowing brightly, the grumbly brazen voice began speaking. It talked of heat, carbon content, manganese, particulate inclusions. Not per se advanced concepts, but it appeared he was thorough. And every nugget of information was such that it tied back directly to this metal, and how the information pertained to it.

Slowly, concepts and ideas formed in his mind, blooming like newly made stars. And Ijaat's heart skipped a beat as he realized the suspicions.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Tem. This Cathar before him was Tem Madog. Legendary Temple Master of Vur Tepe. Forgemaster of the Je'daii. He had fought terrors and Empires more powerful than any Sith or Jedi or other even Ijaat had fought. Science and the Force were pierced by his mind deeper than any other he knew of. Sheer awe was his first reaction. But swifter and more lasting than awe was another emotion. A stronger drive and desire than the prior. Hunger. Hunger for knowledge. A thirst for understanding. He watched as the Temple Master spoke on about the various properties of his steel. How to work the Force into every action when forging. How some could supposedly forge without hammer and tong and anvil in the apocryphal tales of their Order.

Of course, a small part of him wondered at the possibilities of outfitting armies with this. But overall the process seemed too intricate. To equip an army with this steel would require an army of smiths and assistants, just to turn out basic force-imbued blades made of the metal. It would by necessity be best for one offs, if not a small handful of smaller trinkets. One wouldn't exactly be turning out an entire squad quantity of weapons at a time. Still, Tem spoke and Ijaat listened to his voice and the voice of the one he rode behind the eyes of. Suitable uses for the steel. Pitfalls of it, like the dependency on the Force or that it would hasten the natural erosion and the steel would waste, almost like a creature deprived of food.

Mayhaps whenever he was left from this vision-quest, there were things to try. More that he could do to improve or change this... Mayhaps...

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Hours passed in the vision, and Ijaat began to feel weaker. Less connected to his host. His mind hungered for more, as Tem and the Journeyer he now knew as Tsarvik spoke of many things. Force Imbuement in ways he had never heard of. Ways to attune the blade to a specific wielder. One could then hold it, and it would be the barest of Force Imbued blades... But in the hands of the one who it was attuned to, it would become something indeed beyond normal. All this he drank in, a mind he had hidden while waging war blooming once again like it had when teaching Isley, or [member="Draco Vereen"]. Truly he had hidden his intellect often because it had little purpose to a soldier in many aspects. But maybe it could be beneficial in this new life.

Finally he looked down to the floor of the Forge, what he knew now as the grand forge of Vur Tepe itself. On a pedestal there sat a wickedly curved blade with a single edge, a temper line snaking along it like sinuous ocean waves. When the scaled hand of his host Tsarvik touched it, the blade flared to life with a ghostly aura of rushing wind. Sensations of a body not his own told him he felt lighter, quicker, as if the wind moved him of its' own accord. Tem smiled from his stance by the forge fire, now arms crossed, and his one hand gestured broadly to him. The Cathar grunted and grinned with a grim sort of satisfaction.

"A fine blade, Journeyer... Take it and be on to the next Temple... When you have cleared your Trials, come seek us at Vur Tepe... You have a talent...."

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Slowly the vision receded, and Ijaat came back to himself. He blinked softly, once. Twice. Thrice. How much time had passed, he couldn't be sure. For always after he could never really pin down the exact time frame, it could have been hours, or days, or weeks. Nor did he ever seem too concerned when one would ask him how long he had spent in the Thor Yor. Quiet meditation continued, as his mind began to try and make sense of the sea of knowledge flowing back and forth from it and from the Tho Yor in a symbiotic bond. Knowledge of secrets of the Force, techniques as varied as Dai Bendu meditative and Sensory abilities to tricks long held in Vur Tepe would flow in, and it seemed the Tho Yor called to his mind, the knowledge of things like beskar and euk'gar and tra'kar flowed from him to it.

As he became more aware, he became intensely focused on remaining tethered to the temple-ship, but acutely hands-off in the exchange of knowledge. Tried to not quest for certain secrets or rumors from his studies, and instead let the ship guide his mind and consciousness. Rumors he had heard of it and now he was firmly in the camp of being true now. In some way, on some level, this ship was alive and aware. And all those who had tread across its floors or stayed in its depths or touched it had left something behind. Great or small, knowledge was stored like psychometric flashes of pure intellect and wisdom. And now he both received and added to the immeasurable sea of knowledge.

And he maintained his lotus-like position, breathing smooth and calm, eyes seeming alight with possibility.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

More time passed, with visions coming and going in his mind. He saw the arrival of the Tythans to the planet. Knelt in the snow with a forehead pressed against the great side of the Tho Yor as a Dai Bendu monk, meditating on mysteries and mysticism. As a diplomat to settle a Core world dispute, using the skills of a Theran to translate and mediate between two alien races. Other lives played out, as he partnered with Anil Kesh je'daii to create constructs both of flesh and metal. Studied how the planet kept it's balance with Healers from the esteemed Mahara Kesh. Afterwards, he would recall the particular events only with great thought, but the lessons on the Nature of the Force, Balance, and more remained sharp and immediate to recall.

He began to see, with more and more alacrity, why his life had been filled with chaos so much. Why he had let [member="Darth Carnifex"] play his hand, as [member="Ajira Cardei"] suggested he had. The Force within him, and he himself, were out of balance and tune with the universe. And when one was in disharmony, their life would suffer. In protecting and fighting against the Sith, he had too often resorted to straying to one side or the other of the Force. To whatever means would see him through. Violence and nobility were a hard blend, and one could certainly not do it in the fumbling, arrogant manner he had been trying for. It was just simply not the Way.

Realization began to dawn on him in between flashes of memory from other times, and a way forward came alight.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oN2Xs-MvxLw​

Slowly, sensation came back to him. Feeling began to flood his limbs, which were tingly and numb. Realization dawned that his body had entered a hibernation trance instinctively, and had probably kept him alive. Something had awoken him, and as his vision swam and began to focus, he realized what it was. It was the portal into the Tho Yor, standing wide, waiting. Opened and with a chilled night breeze wafting in, the temperature had breached his meditation, or perhaps the Temple-Ship was done with him and had ended the communion. Either way, he rose slowly on unsteady feet and looked around. And then he walked out, past his armor and weapons. He stooped only for a minute, retrieving his force-imbued sword, before moving on.

The planet reeked of imbalance as he landed on the temple grounds. The Sith had done their job on that and in a brutally effective way. But already the famed planet was exerting it's will and natural order. The nexus that was this world could be felt, in trickles and in whorls, to be shifting back to neutrality. In part, he suspected, it was why the Force Storms had begun at random, and why the weather was erratic at best and deadly at worst. Tython itself was purging the unclean. With slow steps, he extended senses still new and raw in some ways, and exercised new skills. Location.. He needed a suitable location so he could base his work from there, and begin his mission.

And that might take a while, this mission, and he would need help that he could trust beyond any other hand he knew besides his own.