Wind Stalking

[Avalore Eden]

The trees of the endless Dathomirian jungles seemed to go on forever. Traveling through the sea of greens, walking between fountains of golden sun rays, across the slopes of rising mountains - the air was quiet. Calm. A warm breeze wound slowly, steadily through verte grasses and plump ferns. It drifted across the giant leaves of the Bailiff Trees and down along smooth stones lining the banks of a wide river bed.

It was here along the Sshestun River that bare, soiled feet traipsed along the pebbles. Trailing along the western bank, Ysanae Vela: Windtalker of the Dathomir Witch Clans breathed in deeply, solemnly. The days had passed fairly quickly on this journey, one of which was by far her longest of travels between the clans. Returning from the desert clans of the south, Ysanae had not seen the face of another for nearly two weeks. Though the lands sung to her, they could not help to ease a heart that was growing troubled.

Despite her love for her home and her people, Ysanae found her mind always drifting to what lay beyond. As the sun rose and followed her path northward before setting once more to lead on to the future, her eyes strayed from the horizon towards the skies. The stars. All those other homes and peoples. All the talk of war waging in the heavens. What would they do if it came here?

The night hours settled in like a blanket over the valley. In the solitude of the dark the Windtalker set up camp; a small fire over which she roasted a recent catch and a sling of vines higher up in a nearby tree where she would rest. It was within the branches of the tree that she currently sat, chewing on gristle, her eyes lost in the twinkling realm high above her head.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
Sarge, freeman of the Singing Mountain clan and wandering soul formerly of OmegaPyre, walked cautiously through the darkness, mindful of his step so as not to make any noise. At night, remaining stealthy was a lot harder than during the day, but his enhanced eyesight made things a little easier.

Pausing as the wind funneled in from the east, he cocked his head and inhaled deeply through his nose. Smoke. Dathomir didn't really have forest fires, which meant someone was probably out here. From what little he knew of the clans it would be the Windtalker out here, but he had to be careful.

It could be Nightsisters for all he knew.

With that in mind, the former Protectorate Sergeant Major stealthily made his way through the woods and towards the smell of smoke which eventually materialized into a small pinprick of light. Fire.

Slowing his approach, he inched closer and closer, eyes peeled towards the fire and the surrounding environment. Pulling his camo cloak tighter around his shoulders, he paused about twenty meters away and just observed.

 

[Avalore Eden]

The fire crackled softly, its glow growing dim. Ysanae remained transfixed with her musings until the flames released a particularly loud pop! Blinking away the images in her mind, the young woman pushed herself from her perch within the tree and dropped soundlessly to the forest floor. She pulled several lengths of dried bedleaves and broken branches from a stockpile by the base of the tree before moving to kneel by the fire. With dexterous hands she carefully arranged the wood over the smoking cinders and plugged the base with the dried leaves.

"Peta," she uttered, leaning forward to gently blow on the cinders. The resulting flame that grew was nearly instantaneous and bright blue in color. It licked upwards, eagerly eating through the leaves before catching upon the wood. "Icaga," she said then, seeming to direct it upwards. The blue flames followed the motion of her hand, dancing after her fingers, "icaga," she chanted again. Her hands swept through the warmth, seemingly unaffected by the heat of the blue inferno that grew at her encouragement.

Ysanae smiled warmly to herself as she watched the blue light slowly turn to a bright, warm orange. The fire roaring now, she eased back and folded her legs at her side. Why if the fires were so easy to command was it that she could not tame the wild winds that carried her from land to land? They were beckoning her to a place she could not go, and with her smile fading she once again turned her gaze upwards to the patches of night sky visible through the canopy.

She did not feel the eyes upon her or sense the movement in the woods at her back. Though at one with the wilds she might be, there was simply no finding or seeing the One Known as Sarge when he didn't want to be.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
The shadow watched as the flames danced on command, a smile forming on his lips as the Witch went about her life as though someone wasn't standing there, watching. But his brow furrowed in realization as it hit him that she couldn't see him, nor did she hear him... she had no idea he was there.

Funny how when he wasn't truly trying to be hidden he forgot he could be.

"Ysan.", he says quietly, voice no doubt carrying over to her despite the crackle of burgeoning flames.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Carry they did. They carried so well that the effect was rather shocking for the otherwise preoccupied witch. The woman shot up, lithe form scaling the bulk of the tree until she was high up in the branches again. Ysanae felt her heart in her throat at being caught so off-guard and mentally chided herself for such carelessness. Dathomir loved its witches, but could turn a blind, unforgiving eye without warning. Especially in the forests and especially at night.

Seconds passed before the weight of her bow in her hands would give her any due comfort. Arrow strung and pulled, nock pinched securely in her fingers, she turned towards the area where she thought she'd heard the voice. For a moment the Windtalker felt silly. There was nothing there, nothing to be seen at all.

Had she been alone too long again? Was she just imagining voices?

"Ha-" the word caught in her throat just over the lump of her hammering heart, "hau?"

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
"You forget me so soon?", the voice asks with a laugh. "I'm touched." Hands appeared from the air as they rose to pull back the cowl that was situated around his head. Despite the bandanna wrapped around his face and the sunshades which rested below a battered shockball cap... there was only one person this could be despite the change in headgear.

The One Known as Sarge. "You can put the bow away, I'm hardly going to hurt you."

The fabric of his bandanna pulled taut as his lips curled upwards into a grin and he shook his head as he approached the fire, gloved hands rubbing together as he held them out to receive some semblance of warmth from them. Chill had already started to set into his bones and he was thankful that she'd already prepared a source of heat for the evening.

 

[Avalore Eden]

"...hau..." the Windtalker blinked at the scene unfolding below, feeling her mind skip a beat.

"...hau?"

I'm dreaming again, I must be.

But the man - rather, what ghoulish pieces of the man she could see now walking over to the fire seemed very, very real. From her vantage point she could see the shadow he cast as he drew near the fire, could hear his footfalls like distant rumbles of thunder, could smell that strange mechanical aroma that had evaded her for months.

Leaning to see the witch flinched as she felt the arrow fly from her fingertips and cringed as it whistled away through the trees.

Thup.

Ysan blinked and slowly, nonchalantly hooked her bow back in its place on the trunk. Yeah, that didn't happen. Warily she climbed down and stood at the base of the tree staring at the man curiously. He looked different somehow but not necessarily because of his strange accessories. The Windtalker worried it was still all a trick of her mind and so with due caution approached him. She reached to touch at the fabric of his cloak and as soon as she felt the curiously smooth material in her palm she smiled.

"You are unseen," her smile broadened. She sounded as mystified by this now as she had the first time she'd seen him though judging by the glint in her eye she had not forgotten him at all.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
"Always have been, always will be." He retorts calmly, staring intently at the fire from behind the shades. Its left lens glowed blue as a scroll of text filtered across it. Turning to give her a curious glance, he shrugged his shoulders so that the cloak shifted to hang like a cape, exposing the tactical vest mismatched fatigues he wore.

Gone was the matching uniform he once wore, replaced by a true mercenaries uniform cobbled together from whatever was available. "So, Ysan, how have you been? Still traveling? Seems like it'd get boring after awhile...", he murmurs, making small talk as best he knew how.

He was far from a conversationalist with people who may as well be strangers.

 

[Avalore Eden]

"Not boring," she shook her head, recalling her hand as he shrugged back his cloak. The woman felt her smile falter. Not boring. Never boring. Ysan loved her journies across Dathomir. She was given the rare freedom to travel freely throughout the lands as no other witch could. She had seen and experienced a great variety of things, and for this she was grateful. But it was a lonely task, what she did, and she almost spoke this aloud.

Almost.

But she wasn't alone anymore. The Great Mother must have heard her troubles. Ysan's smile returned.

"I am well, now, One Known as Sarge. And I am glad to see you, I often wondered of you. Will you join me?"

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
"I've already joined you, if I'm not mistaken." A grin appeared under the bandanna again, although she'd more hear it in his voice than see it. "What need of you to wonder of me, hrm?" Rhetorical questions were often some of his favorites. "I'm a wandering man of the stars with few friends and more enemies than I'd care to count; I even took a higher body count than one of the Nightsisters in a contest."

There was a rueful chuckle at that.

"But I'll join you for the evening if you so desire. I was just wandering across the lands out of boredom, really."

 

[Avalore Eden]

The Windtalker chuckled and nodded, feeling chagrined. She pulled from his side, searching awkwardly for something and then settled on the string of meat from her earlier kill hanging from the higher branches. The witch did not bother to ask if he was hungry, for in her experience with the man he never turned down a meal. If he was wandering, it was likely he'd worked up an appetite anyways.

"You met a Nightsister?" she asked as she gathered a haunch of the skinned carcass dangling from the branch and moved to fix it on a spear. The witch eyed her company shortly, curiously. He mentioned enemies and bodies and she wondered if he might have perhaps wandered in the wrong direction. Her memory vaguely recalled his history with the Nightsisters - one that wasn't pleasant.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
"Met quite a few - they were helping the Mandalorians for one reason or another; so was I.", he says absently. A kill contest of the purest variety; human targets. He'd won with more than forty killed in half as many minutes. It had been bloody and violent, but they've secured the stygium mine from the Deathwatch.

"But they were far more tolerable than the former Nightsisters I knew."

 

[Avalore Eden]

"I remember those people. Strange birds..." Ysanae had been part of the initial talks but she had not been deeply involved. It seemed, like always, that many of the Clan Mothers had far greater secrets than she could imagine. That day had made her question the need for her skills as Windtalker.

"The Nightsister Clans are eager to make ties with the worlds beyond. But it is very difficult for the other clans to agree. They are not as trusting," for good reason she thought. The Allyans were a peaceable kind that feared extortion by the unknown. Perhaps it was best that their more adventurous dark sisters take the first steps.

"They spoke of great wars coming to our skies," she settled herself down next to the fire, holding the spear out over the flames to cook the meat, "are my sisters in danger from this?"

 

[Avalore Eden]

"There's a high probability.", he responds dourly, lowering himself to a sitting position next to the fire as he inhales slowly. "There's a lot of big players out there, and none of them are keen on poking the bear... not even the Sith. The battle lines have been drawn, but so far everyone is just a bit too intelligent to cross it."

Snorting, he looks to the ground. "The Sith tried it... once. They got rebuffed - several times. Their invasions into Mandalorian space were shoved back; their lightning strikes thrown back by the warrior citizens of the Mandalorian people. They hit the homeworld and broke like waves on the shore."

A laugh escaped him. "It wasn't pretty, far from it, but the Sith have licked their wounds ever since. We're about due for a war."

 

[Avalore Eden]

The Windtalker's smile faded in its entirety. She looked pensive while trying to digest all of what he said. It was easy enough to understand the wars, but she wished she knew more. More about the Sith. More about the Mandolorians. She wished she knew why they were due for a war, or what made it so laughable that they attack their Mandolorian brethren. She did not know these people like she thought she knew her sisters. Her history here, her knowledge of the clans and their families and the ages past - these things were easy to know. Easy to predict.

But the stars? She could only grasp at them.

"Thank you for helping," this much she knew. By him partaking in battle he made an effort to help protect them. "It is good that you do. I fear many of us are not capable of joining that fight. I wish there was more I -" she paused. It did not do to want. The Great Mother had provided her a good life, and in return she was tasked with helping her sisters by speaking for every clan. She was not meant for war in the skies, she didn't even know how to fight.

Ysan decided to change the subject, lest she offend the Great Mother, "Are there more like you that will help us?"

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
"The Sith have made an enemy of at least three-quarters of the galaxy. There's plenty of people who will help you." Pulling his legs up towards his chest and resting his arms across his knees, he gives a simple shrug. "Your people are far more than capable of joining the fight, trust me. You've got lightsabers and the Force, and that's enough to put you above the common soldiery."

This time his laugh was entirely amused at that thought. "You aren't quite as unprepared as you think you are, and frankly you're going to need to be prepared. War comes... it always comes. It's a matter of how ready you are to repel it."

 

[Avalore Eden]

Those words seemed to cheer up the witch, her face warming in the flicker of the firelight. She was perhaps more pleased to hear that her people were not as lost as she believed than upset at the prospect of facing war and her own rather obvious ignorance to these things.

Perspective was such an important thing.

"It is good that we have a friend like you to know these things," she stated, pulling the spear back from the flames to test the tenderness of the meat. Skinn charred, meat just slightly pink, Ysan remarked about perfection under her breath with a proud nod before offering it to her guest.

"Are you learning the paths of Dathomir well or is she taking you in circles like so many others?" she smiled playfully.

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
A rueful chuckle passed his lips as he withdrew his lengthy bayonet from it's sheath on his waist and took a hunk of meat for himself, gloves keeping his hands more than insulated from the heat of it. "Friends are a valuable commodity.", he remarks before lifting his bandanna to take a bite.

"And I'm learning them right fine, thank ya'." This time his laugh was amused. "But sometimes I walk in circles for old times sake."

 

[Avalore Eden]

Ysan laughed gently, taking a bite of her own and watching the man curiously as she chewed. His clothing was so strange, even moreso than she remembered and she wondered how it was that he did not overheat under the layers. He looked careworn but healthy - a sign that he had garnered the good graces of the Mother. Sarge smelled of the moist jungle earth and the perfume of exotic flora that traveled on the winds. How far had he traveled? she wondered silently, and what things had he seen?

The Windtalker broke her gaze to take up a wooden gourd of water and wash down the flavor of meat and blood. Releasing a long breath, she sat for several moments feeling more content than she had in many moons. Ysan felt warm, but not just the warmth of flesh from the heady night air or the heat of the fire, but a soulful warmth that came only from good company. It permeated her being and in those moments as she leaned to offer the gourd to him she realized just how deeply the cold had settled into her core. The woman's smile broadened.

"What makes you walk circles, One Known as Sarge?" she asked delicately, "Of all the stars you choose to walk them on Dathomir. Why?"

 

[Avalore Eden]

Sarge:
The man shook his head at the offered gourd and smiled gently at her, almost like a father to an adult child. A hand reached up under the cloak and procured a small plastic tube that he popped a cap off of and slipped between his lips. Gently sucking at the small tube, he enjoyed the faintly warm water kept there. He never kept the bladder too full, however, or it would slosh around and give him away. Just a little was all he needed.

"Why Dathomir? Well, all my roads seem to lead here, sooner or later.", he says with a sad smile as he stares into the fire. "I'm not sure why. It's the past, for sure, but it's also the present and likely the future." His shoulders lift into a shrug.

"I'm afraid I couldn't truly tell you."