Kashyyyk

[Frond]

Frond listened intently as Jaina spoke of the darkness. He could feel the darkness, settled on the surface like an obscuring mist, when he had returned from Beyond Shadows. THe plant-based-life form had also sensed the approaching Katarn, but had thought little of it as he was a being of wood and vine, not flesh and blood so the creature had not presented much of a threat, even in it's maddened state to himself. Regardless, the beast lept to the attack and one of his newfound Jedi companions deftly used The Force to drive it away, manipulating the beast's mind.

 

Frond shook his head and muttered incoherently under his breath, a sense of displeasure at the display apparent. The Force was not something to be manipulated by mere mortals, but to be one with and to allow to flow freely about a being acting upon it's own will. The Force was a slave to no one. Frond only dwelt on this for a moment as the trio set out into the looming darkness, and the blindfolded woman introduced herself. Frond smiled, his twisted happy smile, "Miss-all" he tried the name out in his mouth, nodding in approval at his own pronunciation.

 

As the group moved deeper and deeper, even Frond could feel the darkness enclosing them. The trees themselves even had felt the taint of it and cried out their silent warning of the corrupting powers that lie ahead to anyone that knew how to listen and took the time to do so. The Dark Side. Frond knew it, he had spent countless lifetimes contemplating the Font of Power, the nexus of dark side power contained in the netherworld of the force. The Dark Side was present here, and stronger than the usual inkling he felt elsewhere on the planet each time he returned from Beyond Shadows. Frond's fellow plants whispered their wordless warnings, but Frond continued his shuffling gait onwards; after all, what did he have to be afraid of? The Force would guide them as it willed.

 

Despite the thinning of the massive Worshyr trees, between the darkness and the overhangs, the trio could see little beyond that which was immediately in front of them. Frond had easily fallen into the same gate as the other two, matching them step for step, as he slowly, almost unnoticingly altered his size to match that of his two companions. Soon enough, and with little interruption after the Katarn attack, the trio pushed back the final layer of obscurity and found themselves in a clearing, albeit bathed in inky shadows; at the center of the clearing there appeared to be something quite out of the ordinary for the surface of such a overgrown jungle planet. True, from time to time a flaming wreckage of a starship that catapulted into Kashyyyk managed to burn it's way to the surface, but that usually left noticeable damage all the way through and the planetary natives did their best to prevent and avoid such occurrences. No, this was something much different, and much more ancient, even Frond could feel the dark sided emanating from all around the thing, whatever it was. It was clearly old enough to predate the ancient Neti. What it was though remained a mystery, clearly Frond had spent more time musing the deeper meanings of The Force than wandering the planet, for even he did not know what or where the monolithic machined structure before them had come from or had even existed in the first place. There before the trio, nestled partly in shadows was a toppled metallic structure with three massive legs that when it stood upright would have dwarfed them all, even if Frond had been in his tree-like form. Even on it's side it still stood taller than any of them. But still, lying there on it's side, the creation was free from the undergrowths of the forest floor. WHat should have been covered by now in vines, moss, and mold, lay untouched by the plant life, save for the single Worshyr tree that had somehow managed to sprout up near enough to the construct's base, having forced it over as it grew.

 

Pointing a gnarled knocked knuckled finger at the dull gray metallic construct Frond spoke, his voice barely a whisper, "The Dark Side that you are seeking."

 

Glancing around him all was still, completely still. The little bit of sunlight that managed to diffuse itself this far down to the surface did little to illuminate all but the weakest of shadows, but regardless, nothing stirred, ti was as if this area had been abandoned by all that could move away leaving only the guardian plant life to stand watch over the ensnared darkness within the metallic shell. Glancing to his left and right at his two companions, he spoke a word of warning, "Strong in the darkside. Not natural to encapsulate The Force. Bend it to one's will. Free to flow through and around all of us is how it should remain. Not a slave. to any mortal soul."

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

A highly encrypted comm comes in for Jaina

 

 

Jaina, I have received Skye’s message and am en route. I wish Emily had remained on Raxus so that I might have her at my side. Though she is Sith, I have come to trust her, a fact whose irony is not lost on me. There is another I feel compelled to contact regarding Faust. I can’t say I expect anything will come of my attempt to contact him, but I think he should know. Be safe my sister.

 

[Tobias Vos]

A council message came through for Jaina;

 

"Council- Be aware that there is Sith presence around Onderon, presumably as a response of Master Organa's message. I had no choice but to back off or risk casualties planet side. My apprentice and I have left the system, going to try a different approach.

 

P.S. - Does any have a lead on Mass Shadow Generators, we might be able to do something with that?

 

-T"

 

[Calmin Ayion]

"HAHAHAHAHAHA.... Well isn't this all so very poetic. A Tree, a Blind Woman, and a misfit seek something to which they don't understand. Maybe I can make things much more interesting."

 

Jumping down from one tree branch to another, Calmin Ayion stepped out of the shadows, displaying a wild snarl on his smile. His eyes were left uncovered, and his brown hair seemed far darker in the dark light that filled the shadowlands. He stood upon his branch, which was about thirty five feet up above the trio.

 

"Let's play a game! I like to call this one... How fast can we break the galaxy?! To my right, Graanta's son! Hanging by a thread! He could fall at any moment! To my left, Senator Truwkiwn's son, also hanging by a thread! Same fate awaits him as well. Below, the ancient star map, set to blowup, sending the entire shadowland floor into chaos! Above, a sonic wave emitter, powerful enough to summon two nearby Terentateks! And finally, we have me! Holding the holocron that you came all this way to retrieve!! All set to go off around the same time... It's unfortunate that disaster will strike Kashyyyk only after the Jedi arrive... Make you pick carefully Jedi... You have fifteen seconds..."

 

As Calmin revealed the threats with words, they also became revealed in flesh. Both Wookiee kids were about thirty feet away from Calmin, a combined sixty feet away from each other. The sonic emitter was now about twenty feet above Calmin. The wild and crazed Force user had set the perfect trap for the Jedi Grandmaster, only to have the band of misfits show up. It was a shame that the great Wookiee wouldn't be present for the downfall of Kashyyyk, but at the very least he could still ruin the image of the Jedi Order to the rest of the galaxy...To think that I can kill three senators on Coruscant and no one blinks and eye. Let's see if a planet wide mess caused by the Jedi can do better.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Adrenaline surged in her veins as the wild laughter of the sociopathic Miraluka echoed in the Shadowlands. How had he known they would be coming, to set up a multifarious trap such as this? Had the holocron itself been taken from the ruins of the ancient Rakatan Star Map?

 

None of it mattered. She wanted answers; she only uncovered more questions. Subject to the whims of a madman, she must undo the trap. Five points. Five ways to fail.

 

Five ways to overcome.

 

Frantically, her mind began its search down familiar paths, looking for a solution that would touch on all of the problems before her. But even her customarily strategic mind was coming up empty, working at lightspeed; the clock was still ticking. So, it became a question of priority.

 

Allowing the bomb to go off would take care of the tarentatek problem. But saving the two adolescent Wookiees, no matter how influential, would matter little if a bomb destabilized the ecology of the Shadowlands. What happened here would have repercussions for the residents of the wroshyr trees above, and could affect the entire ecosystem of Kashyyyk.

 

From across the fabric of the galaxy, a whispering voice brushed past Jaina like a fluttering insect on the wing. Indiscrete, words of warning and fond farewell mingled together, and the Jedi Knight found herself momentarily out of time and place as she watched it pass by as though in another dimension entirely. The tiny insect seemed to pause for a rest on her shoulder before the wind of the Force whisked it away, a thing of beauty that was both utterly at home in the Shadowlands of Kashyyyk and simultaneously otherworldly, an old soul that seemed to have existed from time immemorial. Its iridescent wings caught the shredded ribbons of light that managed to penetrate the unassailable canopy and glinted in the oppressive dim, as though they stood in colorful defiance against the vining gloom. A flicker of a curious smile played on her face as she watched the silvery-blue moth disappear into the understory. In the wake of its of departure, clarity descended: her mind need not fret about the situation at present, she had only to listen to the Force.

 

Then the galaxy ended.

 

Jaina's first thought was that the madman had rigged another trap, and it had slain her without announcing engagement, as her insides rioted within her, burning as though they had been severed. A hand flew to her abdomen as pained tears spilled down her cheeks: but she herself was intact and unhurt. Innately, she knew. Kirlocca.

 

The wise and kindly friend who had extended to her an open hand when she had found herself without a home; the renowned warrior whose skill with a blade was legendary; the sage mystic who seemed to have prescience concerning the unfolding events of the galaxy; he had been slain, his spirit joining with the Force even as she stood on the ground of his homeworld.

 

There is emotion, then there is peace.

 

Staring at the mangled tree roots before her as though lost in thought, she felt her expression shift to an inappropriate grin as she perceived the very air of Kashyyyk groan in righteous anger and cry for justice as one of their own, a defender of justice and guardian of peace, was stolen from the galaxy. A lifetime of discord had wearied her from battle, stretching on endlessly between sides of the Force like brothers bound up in civil war. But Andon had been right: to be a Jedi was to fight the unwinnable fight, to carry the blade of war knowing that you yourself will never taste peace, but you can buy it for others. Suddenly, she knew what she had to do; what the Force and the Jedi Code required.

 

"You say chaos. I choose peace."

 

With the howl of her fallen friend echoing through her mind, Jaina sprang into action with a roar.

 

A mighty tug through the Force seized the sonic emitter and ripped it from its perch atop the tree, sending it crashing toward the earthen ground with enough Force to render it inoperative at the conclusion of its fifty-five-foot momentum-assisted freefall. Skidding to a halt on her knees before the defunct Star Map, dropping the borrowed blade at her side, her hands glowed with white-hot light as she extended them outward, power surging forth to build the cocooned shield that had become so second-nature to her. Her eyes lit with fire as she poured her strength into the barricade, intent on trapping the blast beneath. To contain a blast of that magnitude would require focus, but she had it in spades, her awareness spiking as though the soil of the Shadowlands was angry along with her and lending her eyes and ears.

 

Trust did not come easy to Jaina Jade Skywalker, but once again she found herself bound up in trusting her erstwhile companions.

[ObliviousKnight]

A minuscule clicked issued from within the folds of Misal’s robes, most likely swallowed up by the song of the Shadowlands’ fauna and unheard by her companions. It was a careful press of the Force against her comlink, resulting in a microsecond-long databurst to a secured Holonet server. It was entirely likely that the signal would be lost in the deciduous depths of Kashyyyk, but if it managed to escape, it would trigger a timer that would culminate in the playback of a pre-recorded message that Misal had prepared for this sort of occasion.

 

”I'm very sorry, but I've just done something terribly foolish and chances are that I've gotten myself killed.” Such was the beginning of the holo: an alert to her students of their commander’s likely demise and admonishment to continue the mission and carry on the torch. It was ironic, that after decades of warning her students to never, ever play the part of a hero, Misal saw no other choice but to do exactly that. Such a foolish, unprofessional course of action would most likely result in a violent, exceedingly painful death; perhaps her daughter’s penchant for martyrdom had finally rubbed off on her.

 

This foolish stunt meant that she would probably never see Armiena again. However, she couldn’t afford that distraction. The mission would continue; her students would see to that.

 

Hopefully, she at least wouldn’t embarrass herself in the next few minutes.

 

The young Skywalker was busy defusing the psychopathic Miraluka’s traps; a crash of foliage and cracking of twigs signaled that something, hopefully very delicate, had given way and was tumbling through the canopy. Frond, that strange, tree-like sapient… was a completely unknown quantity. Misal had no understanding of the creature's capabilities or its competence. Only the Force knew if it even appreciated the gravity of this situation. The hostages were… even as the children of a Senator and a tribal elder, they were still only two more lives in the galaxy, just as Misal was only one more. Her fellow seer, on the other hand, could not be allowed to slay the young Jedi.

 

“Boy!” Misal shouted to the other Miraluka. She slid the cold steel of her vibroblade under the fold her black eyeband and slashed upwards. Along with a tuft of unruly gray-white hair, the shredded cloth fell away to reveal the vestigial eye sockets that were a marker of their species: no primitive orbs of gelatin-like tissue, just skin covering the empty sockets in her face. The Miraluka stepped forward and the eyeband fell to her boot. Gathering the Force to her, the black-clad seer leapt onto Calmin’s branch, slamming down upon its girth with the Force as she landed. A sharp crack and cloud of splinters issued close to the the wroshyr’s trunk.

 

“Now that we’re above these primitives…” Misal began walking towards her fellow seer, feeling the branch flex under her feet. Had it been healthy, the wroshyr would have easily supported both their weight, but after decay from the Dark presence and cracking under her sabotage, it now felt as though it was ready to collapse any second. It might collapse immediately upon their shifts of weight and desperate struggle in the midst of a duel. As she approached, her fellow seer would begin to feel a subtle edge begin to probe the defenses of his mind, the work of an experienced illusionist searching for any weakness that could be used against him.

 

The younger Miraluka was supposedly armed with at least a lightwhip and a blaster; Misal, only with her humble vibroblade. A prolonged duel was suicide, but hopefully her life was would be worth at least fifteen seconds.

[Frond]

"sense it as well. The Force beckons trespassers," the wooden humanoid said as he felt the death of the Jedi Grandmaster and noted the subtle changes in his companion.

 

There was little time to contemplate or speak of such things, however; as his two companions sprang into action against the sudden apparition of the sightless dark sider before them. While Frond did not believe that The Force ought to be bent to the will of any mortal he also did not want the follies of another to cause undue suffering and pain. Watching the scene unfold before him in moments, Frond could sense the tingling of The Force, the younglings suspended high above the ground would fall to their deaths any second.

 

Taking two steps forward, his form began to twist and grow. His normal sized humanoid form elongating, twisting and warping with each stride. As his feet came back down they became roots digging deep into the soil as his form shot upwards and outwards, a dense mass of foliage so dark-green that it was black. Twisting with a faint yellow glow, the tree shot upwards and upwards, limbs extending out as if someone had fast forwarded the boring plant growth holovids watched by undergraduates as some of the more mediocre universities of the galaxy to eleven. Frond's limbs shot out, just as the thin vines holding both juvenile wooks snapped as if by invisible signal and added to the din were the frightful, if not defiant, cries of the two furred beings as they plummeted to what one assumed could only be their bone-crushing deaths. True, he could not reach all the way up to them in such mere moments but he could lessen their impact. With twisting limbs upwards and in both directions, he created a cradle of viney tendrils to hopefully catch the first wook bringing him to a rapid, but rather jarring, but never-the-less non-lethal stop a couple meters above the ground.

 

The second wook was another story, The young wook tumbled downwards, bouncing off of limb after limb above at the very edges of Frond's abilities. Frond knew it. The Force knew it. "SWING!" he bellowed as a single viney tenril wrapped itself about one of the young wookiee's arms, the closest limb at the moment, and pulled taught. Within moments, the vine would hopefully pull taught and swing the young wook to safety; that is, if the free falling child had the wherewithal to grab on and sink his claws into Frond's viney lifeline.

[Calmin Ayion]

Calvin watched as the three made their attempts at the rescue, which was a small way to save everyone. It made him laugh loudly after the older female Miraluka made the attempt to reason and lure him away from what she could only assume was the main goal. Slowly he put the holocron behind his back and attached it to his belt, he did so with a swift motion to also draw out his lightwhip. As he did so, he spoke.

 

"You can keep your perverted tongue silent old schutta. I care not about your useless Force or the brokenness of our species. I'm in no position to be swayed away from what I have come to know."

 

With his final word spoken, he made a quick flick with his wrist, letting his lightwhip activate and swing towards the female Miraluka on the branch with him. The motion would cause for a quick two strike of the whip, although he knew that such blows would not land, but rather only drive her back a few steps away from him, which was all that he wanted. At the exact same time, he also pushed the button on the trigger device that he held, cause for the Star Map to explode, and six chargers hidden around other branches to explode, one of which was also the branch that he was on. But since he knew this, he leapt backwards and up. As soon as he landed on another branch, he quickly began to make his climb upwards and away from the three towards his own getaway spot, leaving them to the falling trees and the wild life being stirred into a frenzy with the explosions.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Shockwaves from the blast rattled her teeth and her bones, but Jaina did not give ground. Her barrier in the Force was struck by obsidian shrapnel, yet it did not weaken. But the dying screams of the ancient relic of darkness seemed to shudder within her very spirit, eroding the bedrock of her focus and threatening to overwhelm her. The full strength of the darkness she had felt permeating the Shadowlands bore down against her, its weight oppressive on her back, stifling her breath, calling to her soul down familiar paths.

 

It was there, waiting for her like it always was. That darkness that she held at bay, tempting in its abdication of duty and responsibility. Visions splashed across her mind, and a part of her brain electrified, her blood itself luring her toward the darkness. It sprang to mind unbidden, bolstered by the slimy ease of impulse she felt.

 

Hand-in-hand with Tirzah she walked, in an idyllic meadow, the sounds of waves crashing in the distance. Carefree, they wandered, cloistered on an unknown world where they could craft a life for themselves, free from the weight of the galaxy that rested on their shoulders.

 

The image of their retreat disappeared, and she saw herself as though in a mirror, clad as she had been in Andon and John's vision of the Dejarik board, one hand clad in shimmering white satin, and the other in tattered black, fingers dripping with blood, her essence itself oozing with power. She could reach into the Force itself and extract those she wanted from beyond the grave; she could halt the death in the galaxy by the sheer might of her will--but her throne sat on a mountain of desperate bodies, each of them reaching to her for help, scorned by her insistence to retain what she had gained.

 

Collapsing once more, her vision slipped into a too-familiar picture: warm, scented darkness, strong hands exploring the curve of her spine. Raynuk's hands. She had seen this once before, back on Tython, but wilfully she entertained the sensation. Lips met the hollow of her throat as the unexplored union between Jedi and Sith was realized in their passion, a tryst that sealed the blood bond of their mutual resurrection. It had too long been impossible, the injustice of the galaxy demanding her attention, but she could drop it all. Leave this behind, the last wishes of a dead Grandmaster abandoned to the forest floor. She would always know where to find him, and find him she could: they could run away together, create the solace they desired in one another's embrace, damn the balance of the Force. Apathy tugged on her soul as she leaned into his desire, letting hope be fulfilled in the whispers of darkness that permeated her mind.

 

Hope. Hope was the reason she could not give in.

 

Even with her heart's desires laid bare before her, she could not, would not, must not accept them. A distasteful surreality oozed from the images themselves, realities never to be obtained in a galaxy chained by entropy. No, if she were to craft a future where such things were possible, it must not be at the expense of the balance of the Force. As much as she wanted to ignore it, the essence of who she was remained tied up in the fate of the galaxy. It was why she had returned to the Jedi. It was the will of the Force. It was her destiny.

 

Starlight emanated from her hands as the blast poured into her fingers, the energy threatening to pull her apart, boil her blood within her veins. But the Force was her ally, an energy that was endless and boundless, and she only had to expand her own capacity, let it flow through her. The fire from the explosion shuddered as it was formed into energy, strengthening her weary muscles and empowering her tired soul. She would not be beholden to the darkness that lurked; there was far too much at stake. She was now, and must always be, a servant of the living Force, a guardian of peace and justice, wherever it might take her.

 

As the blast faded and she relaxed the shield, Jaina stood, reclaiming the ryyk blade into her grip, her nimbus glowing like a halo. The massive wroshyrs in the deepest forests of the Shadowlands were not like those of ordinary trees, their trunks massive, spanning hundreds of meters at the base. Their branches were substantial enough that the explosive charges did not sever them from their host completely. Splinters from multiple explosions filled her visions, but they simply bounced off of her as though she were wearing armor made of the Force itself as it lent her its protection. The animals scattered as the loud noises startled them, the dark energy of the Star Map that had been driving them into a frenzy dispersing in the light of Jaina's presence.

 

The dark figure of their unknown assailant vanished with a handful of leaps higher into the tree, but Jaina was attuned to the Force energy of the planet as though she were plugged into a neural network of the Kashyyyk itself. She did not fear the darkness here; she was one with the balanced Force. Mustering the explosive energy that was available to her, she shot into the air with the speed of a blaster bolt, landing in the tree just below the Miraluka and unleashing a wave of energy intended to seize him and throw him back toward the floor of the Shadowlands.

 

"Hand it over," she called to him imperiously, brandishing the ryyk in her right hand.

[ObliviousKnight]

It was always crimson with these psychopaths. Red lightsabers, red and black decor and insignia, even an overwhelming preference for red wine, if some of the shipping manifests that Misal had read were indicative of the predilections of the more hedonistic of their kind. When that lightwhip ignited, burning a finger-width gouge through the body of the wroshyr, it was all that the Miraluka could do to not flinch. Her daughter had locked blades innumerable times with these creatures, but the closest that the elder Draygo ever wished to encounter a Sith was from the safe end of a high-caliber rifle.

 

Misal sprang back a pair of steps when the crackling cord snapped towards her, the coursing blade cracking within a few centimeters of her face and taking off the tip of her vibroblade in its wake. The branch of the wroshyr flexed again with the shift of the veteran operative’s weight and she felt the entire tree begin to groan under the strain of supporting the two. Expecting the entire branch to snap free of the ancient tree, the black-clad Miraluka crouched in preparation to leap free, lest it spill her to the forest floor…. then her fellow Seer complicated matters further in the form of an explosive surprise.

 

A storm of splinters filling the air from the directional charges that rent the ancient wroshyrs, Misal sprang away with a Force-assisted leap to the trunk of the venerable tree and stabbed her blunted vibroblade into its bark. Even with her slight frame, her weight was enough to gradually drag the blade down its height towards the floor of the Shadowlands. As the weight of her own body lowered Misal down the length of the shadowy trunk, her already frayed nerves spiked with an alert of imminent peril and the Miraluka covered her neck with her gloved left hand. Almost immediately, a daggerlike splinter from one of the riven branches stabbed through the simple leather and clean through her palm. Had she not lifted her hand at that moment, it would have gone straight into her neck.

 

Pain momentarily overcoming discipline, Misal cried out for a moment as gravity completed her descent to the forest floor. Now on firm ground, she took a second to glance at the wound--the splinter had gone through her left hand and was wedged between her middle and index finger, extremely painful but momentarily stopping the loss of blood. That would have to wait; the groaning of the Wookiees reminded her of more imminent priorities. The Miraluka ran along the forest floor to the closer of the two Wookiees, a gray-coated male that was caught in a tangle of vines that hadn’t been present at the start of the encounter, most likely the result of Frond’s work. Misal pulled the Wookiee adolescent to the forest floor with a telekinetic tug, ignoring the roared complaints of the injured Wookiee.

 

“Keep down, boy, and stay with me. Sorry, I don’t understand Shyrriwook.” Misal placed a protective hand over the young Wookiee’s head and forced him to keep his head low. Debris was still falling from the rent wroshyrs and could pose a danger to even the Wookiees. The other Wookiee was still alive; Misal could still sense his presence, even if he was moving at great velocity among the branches. “Come with me and we’ll find…” her voice trailed off, having absolutely no command of the Wookiee’s speech or ability to pronounce their names. Something spectacular was happening far above them, a potent unleashing of the energy that the young Skywalker had absorbed from the destruction of the Star Map. Most likely, Misal would soon have company on the ground of the Shadowlands, but in the meantime, all she could accomplish was to find the captured Wookiee youths and try to keep them from getting themselves killed.

[Frond]

Frond's massive limbs swayed and creaked as the first wookiee landed safely in his nesting of vines while the second had somehow, despite the panic obvious in his form, aura, and cries, managed to dig his claws into the vine Frond had extended and transform his downward momentum into a jungle-vine swing worthy of any B-grade holovid starring archaeological treasure hunting, whip-wielding university professors.

 

Just as Frond's rescue seemed to go off without a hitch, other things did not. Mere moments before it happened, The Force twinged and then suddenly chaos erupted. If it was not for the Jedi on the ground, Frond wsa sure he would have been uprooted by the explosion of dark side energy erupting from the ancient device. As it were, he still felt it; not as much physically, although he did sway briefly in the resulting contained blast, but he felt it within, an echo not only of the force but of one which was older than he crying out in silence and then going quiet for the last time. There would be no netherworld to journey to. That which was the Star Map, which had existed for countless ages, had leaked its darksided energies to make Kashyyyk all that she was, was gone. Whenever such a presence vanished, those who had been around long enough to grow accustomed to its embrace, welcomed or not, it was felt on an emotional perhaps even spiritual level.

 

Frond did not have time to contemplate much less morn the loss of the silent friend he had not even known existed nor ponder what might happen to the Wroshyr trees of his homeland. The contained carnage was enough to need his attention. Guiding his viney appendage, and using the momentum of his fall, Frond swung the second frightened wook high enough up and out to hopefully be free of the danger, at least momentarily. The other wook, seemingly was rescued from his grasp by his other companion. With little else to occupy him Frond opted to continue onwards with his newfound 'friends,' afterall, he was this far in.

 

With a single viney appendage he reached upwards into the darkened shade of trees, grabbing at a wroshyr branch nearby where the Jedi named Jaina had come in pursuit of he who brought about this destruction. With a twinkling of yellow swirling light, the massive tree that was Frond twisted and condensed, leaving the more humanoid plantlike form dangling by what could only be an arm and hand from the underside of the branch where Jaina now stood, rocking in the repercussions of the force wave she had just unleashed towards their newfound adversary.

 

Balance in The Force will only be achieved when beings cease trying to bend it to their will and instead submit themselves to the will of The Force.

 

ONE: There is none but the force

[Calmin Ayion]

Calmin was beginning to think that the Jedi who had come were not as up to the challenge as he had hoped, but then he was shaken up by the Force. It took him a good few seconds to catch himself from falling off after the initial blast, and as he turned around to see the one who was living up to the challenge, the human female, was addressing him. Her voice held a slightly tremble in it, as she was clearly fighting against her own resolve by this moment, or she was trying to show him strength. Either way, the meaning was lost on him. Letting his lightwhip activate, he also pulled out the Holocron and held it in his left hand with a firm grip. He also decided to sport a smile that would hint he found humor in the situation.

 

"All this trouble for this thing? You put a big gamble into retrieving such a tiny thing over the fate of Kashyyyk..."

 

With a flick of his wrist, the whip lashed out towards her. The goal was not to harm her... yet. But to keep her back enough so that such a feat of making an attempt to grab it from him would be highly discouraged for the moment. As he did, he made his own voice louder as he spoke.

 

"... What? You didn't think I would put all my chips into a single engagement with a Jedi Master? This trap did not have you in mind, but Kirlocca. Surely even by now you can start to sense it... Rwookrrorro...and it's doom..."

 

Calmin's smiled turned into a sneer as he was now sure that the Jedi could sense he was leading her further away from the city, as it was also wired to explode.

 

"But by all means, if the holocron is all you want..."

 

Now the trap was been fully sprung. Calmin threw himself towards Jaina while simultaneously tossing the holocron away from the direction he leapt and drew his blaster. Landing upon the same branch, he flung the whip towards her as he fired off some wild shoots, not really trying to kill her, as grief in the end will kill her upon realizing how little she really could affect the outcome. Chaos was the goal, and Kashyyyk was the victim of his efforts. The Jedi were but bystanders in this situation.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

She had been on pins and needles ever since arriving on Kashyyyk, and suddenly, it became clear. The Holocron was not the trap, it was the bait, and it was irrelevant now, flung away toward the forest floor. Hoping it would be retrieved by one of her companions, she kept her focus on the wild man before her. The imminent danger surrounded the village, not Jaina herself, and with the teeming energy she felt pulsing from the light side of the Force, she easily sidestepped the haphazard bolts lobbed her way, the man obviously imbalanced by attempting to wield a melee weapon at the same time as his ranged blaster. Turning a neat back handspring on the hand not clutching the ryyk blade, she removed herself from the range of the lightwhip that burnt ozone in the air between her and her foe. Reassembling her vining shield of the Force in a curtain around her, she set herself in a ready stance but kept her awareness open to the periphery.

 

An agent of chaos though he was, her concern lay far above.

 

"You wield the Force with such disdain. You use it, but you hate it, and this robs you of power," she said gravely. "You rob others of life because you have no satisfaction in your own. Stand down."

 

The sword shot out of her hand as though the steel itself had a vendetta, darting with utmost momentum towards the man's torso, targeting an upward path beneath his rib cage that would likely miss the barely-controlled motion of the lightwhip as Jaina maintained her range, controlling the blade with the strength of her mind as she continued to back away on the meter-wide branch. Kashyyyk itself seemed to cry out for her aid, groaning, as the clock ticked down on its destruction. Narrowing her eyes, she summoned the winds that flowed freely here in the Shadowlands, where leaves opted not to grow as they could not see the sun, sending them as a finishing barrage on the heels of the blade that had the Miraluka's destruction in mind. If the sword missed its mark, the gale that she whipped up with righteous anger towards this one who invoked the deceased Grandmaster's name would certainly imperil his balance upon the tree, given his already imbalanced tactics.

 

Time was of the essence, and she would no longer play his game.

[Calmin Ayion]

Calmin kept his glaring sneer upon the Jedi as she now challenged him openly. He was a bit surprised at her lack of response to the holocron, however misjudged it may be. Her words echoed her anger that was rising with each thought that as far as he could tell, upon the Jedi Grandmaster. Her words meant nothing to him, as he knew that true power, what truly set a person on the path of power, was understanding of all sides. He knew where he was weak, he knew where he was strong, and he most certainly knew when he was outmatched. In knowing such things, he was stronger then she was. He put his lightwhip away, which may have turned into a mistake, as the ryyk blade she held went flying suddenly at him. He drew his blaster, and turned himself sideways. Although, not fully, as there was a tingle that ran down his spine, one that he recognized as danger from those who wield the Force, and instead used his free hand to grab that blade. As he did, he used his turning momentum to swing the blade into the tree upon which they both stood and used it as an anchor against the strong wind the female Jedi had summoned against him. The leafs that swirled were nothing moe then an annoyance to him, as he was blind and couldn't see. Once it all settled, his own grip released the blade's handle.

 

"...Very poor choice of tactics..."

 

With that, Calmin threw the blaster at her with a great force that he could muster without using the Force. Almost simultaneously, he turned and pressed a button on his wrist, having the base of the great trees that held Rwookrrormro up had explosives detonate, starting the send the city into a very slow and steady free fall towards the surface below. Only after the explosion did the Miraluka use the Force, allowing for it to speed him up as he ran away, presenting the Jedi with a few choices... Give chase and let the city die. Shoot him in the back, giving in to her Dark Side nature. Or to let him go and allow for him to have a minor victory. Either way, Calmin would win in some way.

[Frond]

The Neti swung forward, his woody free arm extending ever-so-slightly as his momentum carried him through the air, catching the free falling holocron in his extended reach. He had seen such items in the past, but it had been a long long time, a holocron. Misguided Force users stored their partial knowledge of The Force in them he reminded himself as gravity took her course and he began to tumble downwards.

 

Frond could feel the explosions rocking the forest floor. Moments later a palpable feeling of fear rippled through The Force. The city was falling, but Frond could not tell that; all he knew was that suddenly Kashyyyk was undergoing quite a rapid tumultuous shift in emotions for such an old and sturdy planet. First there was the deep ancient life forces of the planet combined with the lingering darkness of the Star map which was now gone. Now there was a fear so fresh and so potent that Frond could feel it almost creeping over his bark-like skin.

 

As he fell through the darkness, Frond smiled tom himself, This is what happens when beings settle for less and try to control The Force instead of allowing it to control them.

 

TWO: I am but a disciple of The Force

 

branching out with his free limbs, the plant-like ancient instinctively reached for the nearest ancient trees, hoping to grab on before he clattered to the forest floor below in the dark

[ObliviousKnight]

On the floor of the Shadowlands, chaos swept up once again on the winds of the maelstrom that the young Skywalker had summoned. Shouting a warning to her charge to keep his head down, Misal forced the head of the proud Wookiee to the ground, ignoring his protestations at being manhandled by a woman half his size. The Miraluka didn't understand his language, and besides, splinters and debris were being swept up by the windstorm and threatened to turn the two into pincushions. Pinning her vibroblade under the weight of her body, the elder Miraluka joined the young Wookiee, laying on a bed of mud and moss and covering the back of her neck with her wounded hand. Light impacts ran over their backs from the thorns and splinters that had been swept up by the assault.

 

Misal gritted her teeth in disgust. This spymaster and tracker, accustomed to avoiding direct confrontation and ensuring that her few battles were fought on her own terms, was all but disarmed, caught between the fury of a wrathful Jedi and a psychopathic Sith. This intervention, inspired by the knowledge that her daughter’s rescue was likely to require assistance from the Jedi and Galactic Alliance, had better prove to be worth the risk to her own life.

 

Daring a moment to lift her head a moment as the storm subsided, Misal frowned as she studied the flares and shifts of the burning Force signatures above her. Weapons exchanged hands: the ryyk blade to her fellow Seer, and the blaster pistol to young Skywalker. Then the lunatic Miraluka ran for his life--that much was obvious, as his footsteps were audible even from their height. Her wrinkled neck shot upwards as she perceived an explosion of shock and fear high in the treetops, far above the squabbling sapients; Misal had no way of understanding what exactly had just transpired in the forest canopy, but something terrible must have just happened to Rwookrrorro. There was an outburst of raw, animal panic--vast herds of fauna were fleeing from the disturbance.

 

Another explosion, perhaps?

 

“With me,” Misal beckoned the Wookiee youth to follow her. Her sightless gaze fixed on the flight of the of the benighted Miraluka, she strode along the forest floor with her shoulders set in grim purpose. The veteran operative reached out to her fellow Seer’s addled mind, noting its, swift, automatic calculation of each step along the perilous pathway of the wroshyrs’ branches. Misal began to introduce a few minor misjudgements to his perception: a knot in the in the branch here, a slight narrowing in the wood there, a very slight change in the rise and fall of the twisting branches… a few less centimeters to bridge the gap between limbs when he inevitably ran out of solid ground and had to leap to another branch.

 

Perhaps Misal’s subterfuge would force a fatal error, resulting in his ignominious plummet to the forest floor and death by lethal misjudgement. Perhaps it would only cost the psychopath a few seconds, brought by an accidental stumble along an unnoticed knot in the wroshyrs’ limbs. Perhaps it would only be a minor distraction to the Miraluka.

 

Regardless, Misal knew enough that in these final instants of their encounter, even a second of hesitation in a moment of desperation could save lives. It could also end them.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

From the moment it left his hand, careening toward her in the open air, the blaster that the madman wielded became Jaina's ally. Attuned as she was to the Force in this moment, the absorbed energy of the Star Map crackling at her fingertips, a whisper of suggestion was all it took to spin the blaster around and effect a change in its prepared method before it even made it halfway to her. It had barely landed in her waiting palm before it fired, seemingly of its own accord, a steady stream of blue rings that advanced at an alarming rate owing to the rapid-fire nature of the IR-5 blaster itself. Her deadeye accuracy, honed over years of rehearsed study during her years in Rogue Squadron--both in the cockpit and out of it--served her well as she tracked his presence with both supernatural and physical senses. Should the stun blasts find their mark, whose erratic movements only seemed increasing in imprecision, they would inevitably render him to a momentum-induced freefall.

 

A tremor ran through the forest; a ripple spreading outward that would touch the galaxy, a knife wound in the Force itself, a cry of visceral terror shrill enough to deafen any who had ears to hear. The madman was no longer worth her attention; now all that was left was to save who she could. Invisible hands seized several of the legion vines hanging from the wroshyr understory, wrapping about his ankles; had he miraculously invaded her stun blasts, they would trip him up, and if not, they would slow his fall to a non-lethal velocity.

 

Leaping from her perch, sliding down the branching arm of her newfound ally, she broke into a sprint across the forest floor. The massive wroshyr that sustained the entire village of Rwookrrorro was so intricately built-in to the seat of honor it held among the deep forest that even obliterating it at its behemoth foundation would grant her the space of several minutes before it began its slow descent. The elevator was an insufficient and protracted tool for the task that lay before her: summoning the boundless strength of the Force, she shot upwards, gaining momentum as she flew from branch to branch, up into the understory. Faster and faster, higher and higher, she was a blur in the wind, the branches leaving crimson tokens as they lashed her face.

 

High above, the Wookiees themselves moved to evacuate as the village separated from the Great Walkway and began its tumble, the catastrophic explosion a forewarning of their imminent peril. Some clambered up trunks of neighboring trees, some were able to move to safety along the Walkway, and yet others had some mechanical means of escape, be it speeder bikes or other hovercraft. But there were some: infants and young, elderly, weak, whose strength would relegate them to the falling platform unless an external force intervened.

 

Determined beyond the complaint of her muscles as she levied such steep tax upon them, bolstered in her physical being by the utter peace she felt within the light side of the Force, Jaina had no doubt that she would make it in time to rescue them from their sudden descent. The wroshyr itself would be the only life lost here today.

 

<>

[Faux]

They’re so big!

 

Faux had never seen trees before, but she certainly never imagined them this big. The fruit trees in the monastery’s subterranean atriums weren’t really trees so much as modified shrubs redirecting the plant’s energies to fruit production instead of the plant matter. It made the plants more fragile, but with the artificial support of the monks they did just fine. But these monstrosities were beyond anything she could have ever imagined. Easily the biggest living things she had ever seen, and she had even seen a Krayt dragon once when she was little.

 

“Get those cages loaded up.” Said a man Stan met with as soon as they had landed. Faux had been so excited she was out of the ship as soon as the ramp was lowered, racing past the three people off to the side of the landing platform to get a good look at the trees. Now, however, the mystery of this trip came back to her as she turned to get a look at Stan’s contacts. They looked dirty, like they had been in the jungle below for a long time. “Who’s the girl?”

 

“Just a few extra credits along the way. How ya been, Chet?” Stan moved down the ramp as the two other strangers went aboard.

 

“These stupid beasts are going to be the death of me. How many cages did you bring?” Chet seemed anxious, but she wasn’t sure if it was her that made him that way or something else.

 

“Twenty-four. More than enough.”

 

“The situation’s changed.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Stan perked up, already not liking what he was about to hear. Dunkono came down the ramp, followed by the other two men with Chet, rolling the cages off the ship and onto a makeshift elevator. Stan watched the procession, then met with Faux staring at the pair of them. “Faux, come here a second.”

 

Faux obliged and backed away from the edge of the platform, walking over to a few feet from Stan and Chet.

 

“Down the walkway is the trading post. There are some shops and a cantina. Why don’t you go spend the afternoon taking a look around and we’ll be back before sunset. If we’re not, just stick around the cantina and we’ll come get you.”

 

“Okay!” She feigned excitement, but why would she want to go shopping when there was all this nature around? Plus, Stan’s story felt wrong. Faux didn’t know why, but she felt something wrong or guilty in his voice.

 

Don’t do something stupid, Faux. Just go to the trading post, buy some baubles, get some food, and enjoy yourself. So what if his story doesn’t sound right? It’s none of your concern.

 

Of course she was going to snoop. No matter how much her common sense and inward monologues told her it was not a good idea, even worse would be if something bad happened and she could have somehow helped prevent it. Doing nothing or looking the other way simply wasn’t an option. While she inwardly cursed herself for being foolish and doing exactly the sort of thing the monks would have warned her against, Faux made her way a little bit down the catwalk until Stan and Chet moved from sight and went back to their conversation. Quiet as a mouse she crept back up to the ship, careful to stay out of sight of the men moving back and forth loading the cages. After they loaded another three and returning to the ship, Faux bounded to the lift and began looking for a place she could hide. There were no walls, and the cages offered no cover. Think, think. She looked up to the mechanism that lowered the lift, but it was nothing more than a simple pulley attached to a wench on the landing platform. Maybe under? She laid down flat, leaning her head over the side to look under the lift. Smooth save for rope that kept the platform tight against the crossbeams. In a few spots the rope had become loose and gave a little slack from the years of use. Looking down, it seemed like the swallowing darkness went on forever. But there had to be ground, right?

 

Familiar sounds came from the ship, and Dukono appeared to be coming around the corner with the other two men, cages in tow. Low as she was, the cages on the platform obscured her from view from where they were right now, but by the time they got on the platform themselves she would quickly become visible. Here goes nothing.

 

Shimmying forward, Faux hooked her feet under one of the cages to lean over the edge of the platform at her waist, grabbing the first handful of loose ropes she could and rolled forward, letting her legs swing over the edge. Now she was simply hanging in midair, holding herself up with just her hands, looking down into an abyss that wanted to swallow her whole.

 

“We’ve got five guys on the ground watching them now. The healthy ones are in chains. A few got aggressive and had to be tranq’d.” As the men loaded the final cages onto the platform Faux could feel it pull down a little bit under the weight. Dukono said something and voice of the man just speaking answered his question. “We’ll have to take them up a few at a time. The lift wont handle two dozen wookiees in cages, the ten of us, and all our hunting gear.”

 

Wookiees?!

 

So her suspicions were correct. Faux lifted her legs high enough to loop her feet into another set of loose ropes further toward the middle of the platform. These ropes were long enough to slide her legs through to her knees, allowing her to free hang without her hands. She probably could have held on the whole way down, but not knowing exactly how long ‘down’ was she didn’t want to risk it. If these guys were capturing Wookiees to sell, that made them slavers. Scientific research…yeah right. Stan was probably going to sell her too, first chance he got. What a slimeball.

 

“Everything loaded up?” Chet asked as the wood creaked from more weight. The other guy was right, this lift wouldn’t take much more weight. With a sudden lurch the wench began to lower the lift, and down into the darkness they went.

 

What am I even going to do when I get down there? I can’t stop ten armed men.

[Frond]

Downwards towards the unseen soil below. Downwards past the ancient trees. Downwards into the shadowy blackness.

 

Frond tumbled end over end as his momentum carried him forward and down. THe holocron he had sought to rescue lost from his grasp somewhere along the way. Straining, he tried to wrap a viney tendril around a nearby branch, but all too often he found himself barely grasping, his momentum pulling him down before he could stop himself from tumbling further. One branch he did manage to grasp had snapped off in his hands, pummelling him about the head and neck as it too began a downward journey.

 

*CRACK* *THUMP* *WHACK*

 

Frond hit the soft soil of Kashyyyk's ancient floor; though it felt anything but soft in the moment. Lying there in a mass of wood and vine, Frond groaned. Free-falling was decidedly not one of his fortes. Slowly and gingerly he picked himself up. One of the many blessings to being made of plant-based material, unlike so many of the dominant lifeforms in the galaxy, was a lack of bones or other internal skeletal-type structure. Something, somewhere had cracked within and Frond could feel it; but he was still alive and whatever it was would heal.

 

Shuffling over to where the holocron lay a few yards away, Frond picked it up in his tendriled hands and turned the multi-sided object over and over looking down at it. "Lot of fuss over" he mused, still, for such a fabled Force artifact one would think it would be bigger at least in its Force signature. As it were, this device had about the same presence in The Force as a thick stack of Panna Cakes sold in any number of eateries the galaxy over. Shrugging, The Neti shoved the device into a knot-like cavity in his torso, sealing it up from the outside world. He would study it at his leisure later.

 

Off in the distance, could be heard only what Frond could assume was the remnants of his comrades and their newfound foe; though they were far enough out of sight that he had to venture a guess that is what the sounds were. And still, there was the palpable fear radiating from somewhere above, unseen.

 

Shuffling off into the undergrowth Frond smiled to himself,Younglings. When will they ever learn

 

THREE: Those who seek to bend The Force are still but vessels of its will

[Faux]

"Are you kidding me?" Stan whined. "Jedi and Sith?"

 

"Yep. Just before you got here we heard a huge explosion. Maybe four or five kilometers out. No idea what they're up to." Chet explained, the irritation clear in his voice. "If you showed up yesterday like you were supposed to we’d be off this rock and up to our elbows in T and A."

 

Dukono muttered something presumably offensive, as Stan wasted no time firing back, "I was not thinking with my… Do you even know what she’d be worth in the right hands?"

 

"Shut it." Chet growled in a low voice. "We're almost there, and I don't want any extra attention. This place is going mad from the chaos those abominations are creating. Let’s just get loaded up and out of here."

 

They were going to sell me too?

 

Faux didn't know why the thought of her getting sold into slavery was so much more offensive than the Wookiees getting sold, but it did. Maybe it was the added betrayal from Stan that made her so indignant, maybe she was just having a selfish moment. Whatever it was, all she really knew was that she was rapidly moving from obligation to right a wrong to self righteous anger. She knew it didn't make sense, but there was no denying how justified she felt in it.

 

As the lift got closer to the ground Faux pulled her legs from the loops of rope and hung freely until the lift was low enough she could drop down. Turning the speed of her fall into a forward roll, Faux managed to stray into some brush behind the lift before giving into the jelly feeling in her legs. Hanging from them for so long left them partially numb and prickly. Looking through the leaves to make sure she was out of sight, Faux started massaging her legs to get the blood flowing again.

 

"You two stay with the lift and keep it clear of beasts." Chet said to his men as the lift settled. The two men complied as Chet, Stan, and Dukono began down the trail.

 

Okay, what now… Faux thought to herself as the group split up. If she didn't follow the three going to the camp she might not be able to find it herself. But if she did follow them there would be eight armed men waiting for her. She could wait for them to take the first group to the lift and thin out their numbers. Then she could fight a few half the number and free a majority of the Wookiees.

 

Already the three men were out of sight.

 

But what if they cut their losses and settle for the Wookiees they manage to get to the lift in the first trip? That wasn't an option for her. If even one was lost to such a horrible fate she wouldn't forgive herself. Maybe the ones she managed to get free could help her save the others, or maybe they could go get help from more of their people?

 

The only way to guarantee to save them all is to prevent them from getting onto the ship at all. That means disabling the lift.

 

So it was settled. First disable the lift. But how exactly? Two guys still stood in front of it, armed with what looked like blaster rifles from the few she saw growing up. With her legs back to full working order, she decided the best option was the direct approach. Moving out of the brush as deftly as she could, Faux walked up to the two men in blissful ignorance.

 

"Oooh," She cooed to get their attention without completely surprising them, "It's pretty dark down here." Both of the guards spun around leveling their rifles at her before holding. Faux threw her hands up in a wide eyed panic, stopping just a couple meters from them. "Don't shoot don't shoot!"

 

"You're that girl. The one that came in with the pilot." Said the first guard. "Faux." Said the other. Strange that he would have paid attention, let alone remembered her name from Stan back on the platform.

 

"Aw, you remembered." She let her wide eyes melt away into a pleasant smile.

 

They lowered their rifles a touch, slightly confused by her presence but finding her no real threat. "What are you doing down here?" Asked the first. "How did you get down here?" Asked the second.

 

"Oh!" She began with a giggle, clearly proud of herself as she took a step forward. "I didn't want to spend all afternoon in a dirty cantina waiting on you guys, so I snuck behind the cages when no one was looking and hid. Tada!”

 

The two turned to give questioning looks to one another, and it was just the window she needed. Stepping to the right to put the first guard between her and the second, both of her hands sped forward on a haze, her left gliding to the top of the guard’s rifle to push it down and out while her right half clenched to drive her second knuckles into the guard’s throat. Reflexively, the first guard dropped the rifle and brought both of his hands up to his bent but not yet collapsed trachea. Before the second guard could react, Faux raised her leg and kicked the off balance first guard square in the chest, throwing him back and knocking the pair over. Faux was already moving as the second guard scrambled to return to his feet, setting her full weight on his chest to hold him to the ground as a flurry of punches rained down on his face, each blow like a hammer. The first couple he tried to defend with his arms, but Faux’s own worked in tandem, one pushing his arms out of the way while the other rocketed in, switching in the flurry. As the second man went limp with unconsciousness, Faux stood and turned to the first, still on the ground next to his partner coughing and hacking to catch his breath.

 

"How far away is the camp?" She asked in an even tone, kneeling next to him to hear his answer clearly.

 

"Frak...yo-." He wheezed, but she cut him off, placing the palm of her hand on the bridge of his nose and applying a little pressure. To him it felt like agony, like it would break any second. His hands wrapped around her wrist, but at this angle he couldn't apply his strength to lift her off.

 

"How far?" Her even tone was giving away to impatience, and the pressure to his nose was only growing.

 

"A few hundred meters. Down the path and take a left at the moss covered rock." His voice was raspy and muffled under her hand, but somehow she could tell he wasn’t lying.

 

A swift strike to the side of his head and he was out. She dragged the pair of them into the brush a few dozen meters, each in separate directions, fashioning restraints from the abundant vines covering the trees. It wouldn't be enough to hide them from their party of professional hunters, but it would help delay them enough to buy her time. As she went about the work, she couldn't help but wonder if she had gone too far handling them. Had there been a less damaging way to handle that situation? If there were, it was beyond her skills. Anything less than her chosen actions may have resulted in her getting injured. Anyway, both of them would recover just fine. She hadn't done lasting damage.

 

Now to the lift. The simplest solution would be to cut the main cable, but that thing was too sturdy to cut even with a knife, which she didn't have. The blaster rifles would do the trick, but it might create too much noise and alert the rest of the slavers. Instead, Faux decided to pop open the control panel for the lift and rip out anything she could. Maybe it could be repaired, how fast she didn't know, but maybe it would buy her enough time.

 

By now some of the slavers must be headed back with the first round of Wookiees. Should she wait here and try her luck with that group, or move toward the camp and try that one? Which group would have Stan, Dukono, or Chet in it? Stan had seen her exercises on the ship and be weary of her. Faux suspected Dukono flat out didn't like her, and Chet would know Stan had told her to stay at the cantina. If any of those three saw her suspicion would arise. The five Chet mentioned were waiting for them in the camp wouldn't recognize her. But what did it matter? She couldn't be certain either way the size of either group or who would be in them. She would just have to take her chances.

 

Brave or foolish, this is happening.

[Calmin Ayion]

Calmin continued to move up and away, using what speed he could muster, along with the aid of the weakening Force. It was a difficult trek going up and away, with the other Miraluka trying to cloud his mind, as he could easily feel her attempts, along with the warning of stun blasts coming from behind him. Escape was never his intention, but rather, to put the Jedi into a position of feeling bad for her own choices she would make. It had become difficult, but there was now a chance to make her regret such a thing. Knowing that his own height up in the trees and the many branches below would be enough to do the deed, Calmin jumped INTO an oncoming blast, allowing for it to stun him. Even as it neared him, he knew that he would not survive the fall, and the Jedi had already turned her back. By now, his own range was too far away for her friends to help catch him from his fall, and any more time directed towards him would result in the death of the city above.

 

Bam, the blast hit, and the Miraluka began to fall quickly down. By this point, he was well above 500 feet up from the ground. As his body fell, it smacked and cracked against many branches until he final thud as he hit the floor. In the end, four broken ribs, seven vertebras shattered, his spine completely snapped in two, and his own head suffered a concussion and internal bleeding. Upon impact of the floor, it would take fifteen minutes before he was gone...

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

The wind that whipped past Jaina's ears sang a requiem for its fallen companion as the great wroshyr began its tragic descent. But so invigorated was her body by the cocktail of adrenaline and the pure energy of the Force that now coursed through her that Jaina did not yet sing along. Mourning could wait; her fight was not over. At breakneck speeds, she reached the slowly tipping platform of Rwookrrorro, less than a half dozen lingering citizens who had not evacuated soon enough clinging on for dear life as the platform threatened to pitch them all into the abyss. The spinning of the forest planet seemed to slow as she moved, the Force granting her extra time. Darting past one of the phosphorescent insects, she swore she could watch its wings beat a handful of times, but her feet never slowed to make sure.

 

Near the viciously rent path to the Great Walkway, a small Wook of only a handful of years stretched out its arms, howling at the top of its small lungs for the mother whose outstretched paws could not draw her to safety. The shuddering mass of the platform gained momentum as it angled towards the ground, sliding the small creature towards certain doom as it wailed its death cry. As Jaina swept past the small creature, its cry turned into a growl of surprise as it shot upward into its mother's waiting arms. The next child, the Jedi sent flying into a tangle of vines in a neighboring wroshyr. An elderly Wookiee, unstable on his feet, was swept along on her back until she paused at the edge of the platform. Lighter than the air that surrounded her, she flew with the breezes to land on the edge of the Great Walkway, looked down at the falling village and grimaced.

 

Graanta, the village chieftainess, was clinging for dear life to a railing along the outer edge of the platform, Jaina's lightsaber hanging from her bandolier, a look of inexorable resignation in her eyes.

 

Jaina had never tried anything like this. It was nearly certain to fail. The wroshyr was massive, ancient, indomitable, its descent unstoppable, Goliath plummeting with a stone in his forehead. The anguished howling of the Wookiees surrounded her ears, but she fell into calm.

 

Peace. Everything was peace. Grace filled her limbs, stilling the trembling from overexertion. Quiet superseded the stampede of the local fauna abandoning nests and holes. There was an ancient truth of the Jedi that she had never truly put to its test, but to save the lives of innocents threatened by a madman's vendetta, the Force demanded that she try here and now.

 

This is a little crazy for you, Andon's voice, the ribbing, goading tone, echoed from somewhere in her mind. I mean, I'd do something like this in a heartbeat, but you were supposed to be the smart one. Guess you don't even have that going for you anymore, kid.

 

Her face split into a grin that she couldn't contain, wholly inappropriate for the gravity of the task that faced her. Inappropriate like her firebrand of a husband had been.

 

Size matters not, she thought into the distance, feeling the joyful energy well up within her, which is lucky for you.

 

Without his image before her, she could not see the mock pained expression that would be certain to cross his face, but even the thought of it widened her smile. No more distracting me, I'm a little busy here, she thought.

 

Turning her attention to the tipping wroshyr, she extended her hands--not towards the tree, but towards the platform itself, which was now almost perpendicular to the ground. Ancient bolts held the village secured to its host tree, but they were no match for the strength of the Force. Gritting her teeth, she began to pull at the platform's support beams from above, endeavoring to rip it from its seat in the crumbling branches, when a warmth crept down the length of her arms. Somehow, he was close. There was no other way to explain it. Somehow, he had made his way here to stand behind her, his strong arms upholding her own, his breath on the back of her neck, his strength giving her strength.

 

Then a loud crack sounded, and Jaina's eyes snapped open. She had not pulled the platform loose: she had only ripped out a section, destabilizing the Wookiee's hold on the railing. Her heart sank. Had she rescued all the others simply to lose their leader?

 

You know what I would do if I were you, his voice filled her mind once more. Let go, kid.

 

A flash of hesitant fear filled her, but Jaina knew without a shadow of a doubt what she had to do. The destiny of this place was not yet complete. Stepping one foot out over the open air, she fell forward, relentlessly tumbling in freefall towards the Shadowlands.

 

The very gravity of Kashyyyk seemed to invite her in, calling for her destruction as the madman had done. The pull on her bones was frightening, and Jaina momentarily forgot herself and her task in the midst of her suicidal leap. But the anchor of her own saber seemed to call her home, and as the tendrils of hair that had pulled loose from her braid whipped about her face, she caught the railing beside Graanta, who was barely hanging on with one paw.

 

"You have to trust me," she yelled, seizing the Wookiee's bandolier and hauling herself under the furry arm. "The rest are safe, it's time to let go!"

 

A sharp growl escaped the female matriarch. <"This is my ancestral home! I will not abandon it!">

 

Jaina shook her head vehemently. "Your people need you. Your home does not."

 

For the space of precious moments, as the Shadowlands opened their arms to the pair, Jaina met the Wookiee's eyes unflinchingly. "Graanta, please, your son is below."

 

At this, the Wookiee's eyes widened, and with a weary resignation, she nodded. Jaina relinquished her hold on the railing, and the ground rushed at them.

 

With all that was within her, she resisted the pull of the planet's core, the physical energy that called her closer repelled by the spiritual energy that she wielded. The absorbed power of the Star Map leeched from her muscles and bones as they gave into fatigue and she managed to get herself under the massive Wookiee, counting down the seconds until they hit the floor. In a spray of splinters, dirt, and dust, the wroshyr collided with its home soil, and Jaina flew into the cloud as it grew, bracing for impact, when everything went black.

[ObliviousKnight]

What had begun with ranting and explosions ended with blaster fire and silence. Picking her way to the other Wookiee youth, Misal’s face snapped towards the azure flashes of light from Skywalker’s location, noting with satisfaction that she counted at least one more spat of blaster fire than what was reflected amongst the shadowed wroshyrs. That settled the matter; her fellow Seer would be out of commission for several minutes and would give her an opportunity to collect the other Wookiee youth, then to finish off the Sith at her leisure. Misal thumbed the controls of her vibroblade and returned the weapon to its sheathe, satisfied at last that her charges would be safe from his rampage.

 

Then, as the crash of broken foliage reached her ears, Misal realized that the other Miraluka had been struck with a stun blast mid-leap between trees and was now plummeting to the floor of the Shadowland. Helpless in gravity’s grasp, fate seemed to conspire to guide his paralyzed form to collide with as many branches and vines as possible and thoroughly break his body. Her sightless gaze tracked the cacophony as the Sith fell and hit the forest floor, leaving a trail of broken branches and vines collapsing in his wake. His wounds from that descent would be mortal without immediate first aid--spinal injuries, a ruptured kidney, internal bleeding, perhaps a collapsed lung--and he could expect to only survive for perhaps an hour.

 

Misal chose to let him die. Her fellow Seer would perish in the silence of the aftermath, either succumbing to his wounds… or perhaps being preyed upon by a beast that caught the scent of blood in the air and risked returning to the wracked battlefield.

 

Her black clad form continued to pick across the shadowy landscape, occasionally holding up a gloved hand to forestall the Wookiee in her tow from walking into the path of a falling branch or beam. The other Wookiee, some thirty meters above the forest floor, began to call out in the darkness. Misal’s own charge responded in kind and the two youths filled the silence with their indecipherable growls and roars. Their speech was completely lost on the elderly Miraluka, but the other Wookiee youth began to shakily descend from the trunk of another of the ancient trees, his claws sinking deep into its bark until the salt-and-pepper furred Wookiee jumped the final few meters.

 

The other Wookiee issued a querying growl. The Miraluka did her best to respond to what she imagined was a demand to know exactly what was going on. “Um, Misal Draygo--no, I’m her mother.” “I came here with a Jedi, but she’s gone back to the canopy to help out at Rwookrrorro. Speaking of which…” There was another outburst of fear and desperation, and a distant wroshyr issued a deep, aching groan as its massive bulk began to collapse, its death shudders spilling branches and leaves to the Shadowlands. “We should move. Follow me as closely as you can. Do exactly as I say, and we might make it through this all alive.”

 

There was no mistaking that the young Skywalker was doing something to help the doomed inhabitants of Rwookrrorro; her Force Presence, still hopped up on the energy that the Jedi Knight had absorbed from the shattered, was blazing like a welding torch amongst the treetops. Surprisingly few of the Wookiees had perished from the destruction of their city. Still, Skywalker was going to get herself killed if she didn’t retreat from the collapsing city, and Misal needed the young Jedi Knight to survive this ordeal. Now running amongst the stumps of the venerable trees and occasionally casting away falling debris with a tactile nudge with the Force, the Miraluka made her way to almost directly under Skywalker’s location, give or take ten meters.

 

Misal gazed upwards into the unending forest. The two Wookiees at her sides growled a confused query. Yet another piece of debris, a fist-sized nut that had come dislodged from the crashing city, fell almost onto the Miraluka’s feet, spraying her befouled robes with moss and dirt. The Wookiees grunted in surprise and retreated a step, but only succeeded in bouncing the back of their heads into a low-level Force barrier that Misal had erected to forestall their retreat. The three were exactly where they needed to be…

 

Several hundred meters, almost directly above the three, a young Jedi Knight and Wookiee chieftain were plummeting to the forest floor. This time, the Force had chosen to be merciful and had arranged to ensure that the two figures had a clear corridor to the Shadowlands. A roar of horror came from the salt-and-pepper cub at her side when the two came into view--apparently the chieftain’s son--but Misal lowered her face, focusing her attention on their flailing forms as the young Skywalker managed to maneuver her body to cushion the Wookiee’s impact. In the last three seconds, Misal summoned her meagre powers to slow their descent and cushion their impact… and the two managed to fall into a thick bed of moss only ten meters away from them.

 

Again, silence. Misal couldn’t stop Graanta’s son from rushing forward to his mother, but she was close behind the Wookiee youth.

 

“Careful!” She barked out to the adolescent. “Don’t move her until…” To her surprise, the Wookiee greypelt recovered from the impact quickly and rolled away from the body of the young Jedi Knight, surprisingly agile for one that was centuries old. Misal had forgotten how resilient the Wookiees could be. Kneeling next to Skywalker, Misal tore off her right glove and placed a fingertip under her chin. Her pulse came back clear and strong, though understandably rapid, given the ordeal that she had just survived. She was still unconscious, but that was more than could be reasonably expected given what she had just been through.

 

Misal summoned the Force and gave a primitive region deep within her brain stem a miniature, stimulating nudge. It would almost feel like a tickle on the back of the young woman’s neck, not altogether unpleasant, but impossible to ignore. Waiting for the Jedi Knight to return to consciousness, the elderly Miraluka continued to probe her body for signs of a deeper injury: internal bleeding, ruptured organs, spinal injury, anything that could easily be missed and kill her in the end.

 

“Surprise. You’ve managed to survive this despite all of your efforts to get yourself killed. Now, please hold still until I can confirm that you haven’t suffered a spinal injury…”

[Frond]

Shuffling through the darkened undergrowth, Frond was at peace; his very pores felt the cleansing presence of nature's untouched graces; yet still, still, The Force was guiding him, calling out to him with whispers bordering on silence drowned out by the quiet background forest noises. To the average onlooker it appeared that the solid treelike humanoid was just wandering at random, not following a straight line in any direction for more than a dozen steps before he veered to the left or the right.

 

FOUR: The will of The Force will right all wrongs

 

Quite suddenly, Frond's newfound peace was shattered by the crashing of foliage, leaf and limb, as a body tumbled with a solid crunch to the ground below. Without even looking, Frond knew; he knew that it had been their challenger. The one who had taunted his newfound Jedi companions. Even as the being struck the ground, Frond could still feel the life force of the Miraluka crying out in pain. He is still alive

 

Turning about, Frond set out through the underbrush towards where the eyeless servant-of-chaos lay dying. Pushing aside low hanging branches and ducking under others, Frond eventually made his way to Calmin, just as his life essence vacated his body. Stooping low with his elbows on his knees, Frond reached down with the back of his tendrilled hand just above the man's mouth. Gone. His life.

 

Turning his hand over he reached forward and stroked the man's forehead bare of anything that might be covering it, hair, debris, and dirt. Placing his hand on the man's forehead he thought. Frond did not know the death rituals of the man's people; but the other one, Misal, was one of his kindred. She would know.

 

Reaching forward, Frond, with the slow mighty strength that plants used to burst through duracrete walls mixed with the sentient humanoid speed, Frond scooped up the lifeless man, still warm to the touch. He could feel the broken bones shifting and grating against one another in the man's lifeless form. Setting off in the undergrowth, Frond trusted that The Force would guide him back to his companions. Even in death, those who did not know the truth of The Force and clung to this life were deserving of a burial at the end of it.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Welcoming nothingness enveloped her, and Jaina was cradled in the ever-dark. Somewhere, beyond the place where her body currently dwelled, there were galaxies unexplored, universes untold. It felt familiar and foreign all at once, and even warmed as she was by the comforting emptiness, curiosity got better of the Jedi Knight, who reached into the nothingness, grasping for something she knew was just out of reach. Straining, fingertips outstretched as far as they could go into the black, a sudden twitch as though an insect had drawn microscopically abrasive legs across her cervical spine halted her effort. Pinpoints of light appeared, their disruptive entrance into the void of her surroundings causing her to squint against them as the pressure in her mind increased. Slowly, the pinpoints expanded, the gloomy dim of the forest filtering in once more, and Jaina was able to locate herself in time and space as her pupils contracted to adjust.

 

A glimmer of silver flashed in Jaina’s vision, its bright light in stark contrast to the rest of the Shadowlands. To her half-awake mind and her squinted eyes, it took the exact form of a curved scimitar, the ryyk blade returning to seek its vengeance, and she attempted to roll out of the path of the descending blade.

 

Ribcage screamed in protest, and the Jedi immediately relinquished her efforts, groaning as she fell back to the bed of thick moss that cradled her bruised body. She quickly attempted to cobble together a barrier of sorts, calling on the Force weakly, before she realized what, exactly, she was looking at.

 

“Surprise,” Misal Draygo’s voice split the background chatter of the fauna.

 

The silvery-white tuft of hair at the forefront of the Miraluka’s brow came into focus, and Jaina exhaled heavily as she allowed her muscles to relax, sheepishly dismissing the spike of adrenaline.

 

“That went well,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut once more. Without a full medical examination, there was no way to be sure, but a quick assessment of the aches and pains echoing angrily through her body suggested that at least three of her ribs had been crushed in the fall, her left arm seemed to be inoperable, a spasm in her lower back suggested slipped disks at best and broken vertebrae that compressed the spinal cord at worst, her right ankle was throbbing, and her head was pounding, likely a concussion. To have escaped such a swan dive with only such injuries, however, brought the flicker of a smile to her branch-flogged face.

 

Finding the moment of calm that had come to her in the darkness, Jaina exhaled meditatively once more, though careful not to breathe too deeply lest she exacerbate her ribcage, letting the Force dampen the pain that echoed cavernously from her body. The other injuries could wait to be set by a professional, but Misal was correct in her concern, and she would not risk provoking a possible spinal cord injury.

 

A nearly unbearable heat spread across her lower back as she targeted the tendons supporting the bones of her spine, coaxing them to relax their concerned hold. The spike of anguish increased and Jaina could not withhold a sharp cry from escaping her lips, but it was only momentary, as the dislocated vertebrae snapped back into place.

 

Opening her eyes, she grit her teeth together, still barely managing the resultant pain, and used the Force to assist her in sitting up without demanding anything of her disgruntled back. Extending her good hand to Misal weakly, she nodded her exhausted gratitude. “Thank you for your help. What happened to our rather destructive acquaintance?”

 

-----

 

With help from the trio of Wookiees and the Miraluka, Jaina made it to standing, the only mobility issue an ankle that seemed to be badly sprained. Strung between the two adolescent Wookiees, she hobbled along as best as she could, following her senses to lead them to the tree-like Frond who had assisted them.

 

When they came upon him, he was clutching the broken body of their adversary, and Jaina’s stomach gave a regretful lurch as she laid eyes upon it. Sighing heavily, she greeted him. “Thank you, Frond,” she began. “I had hoped for a different result, though I am grateful he won’t be able to do any more damage here on Kashyyyk.”

 

A snarl erupted from the Wookiee chieftainess. <“This is the one who has destroyed Tree Rwookrrorro? His suffering is deserved.”>

 

Jaina shook her head sadly, gazing at the lifeless Miraluka. “Hatred begets hatred. We can only assume that this man has led a life that forces him to believe that hatred is his only choice. ”

 

The Wookiee snorted, but seemed to absorb her statement nonetheless. Pensively, she paused for a handful of seconds before speaking once more. <“We will bury him here, and let the Shadowlands be nourished by his body, since it was his action that wounded the land.”>

 

A quick examination of his corpse revealed very little, as the man carried no identification, but Jaina collected his comlink and the lightwhip he had wielded against her. She watched as the adolescents built a cairn of sorts over the Miraluka, and then they were off.

 

-----

 

When they departed for the Great Walkway once more, hoisted up by the elevator connected to the adjacent village, the slow progress of their ascent made Jaina’s mad dash into the canopy all the more psychotic in her own mind. If called on to repeat such a feat, she was not sure she would ever be able to manage: the Force had granted her what she needed for what was required in the moment. If anything, the task had shown her that would always be the case. Her lightsaber, retrieved from Graanta and fastened securely on her belt once more, felt like the comforting presence of a returned friend.

 

As they rose, within reasonable range of the comm relays once more, her comlink began to twitter incessantly, and a sense of foreboding rose in Jaina’s gut. Listening to her messages one after the other, she attempted to piece together what had happened in her absence.

 

The gist of it appeared to be that Onderon had fallen to the Sith, an unexpected fleet that had impeded a CoreSec investigation and repelled the meager answer to Skye’s distress call as Tobias had withdrawn without rendering aid. But she found it highly unlikely that Skye's comm itself would have drawn the Sith; rather, if Faust was indeed present on Onderon, it was not a stretch to believe he had joined forces with his old allies. If Skye, as well as Xae, who had left Raxus Prime to assist, had made it out of the conflict alive, she would collect a report from them. The Remnant and the Sith were at open war, and with the advancements on Nubia and now on Onderon, it seemed that the Galactic Alliance was quickly losing resources and valuable strongholds to the war cry echoing from the Remnant. In short, the galaxy was crumbling, and the Jedi were leaderless, divided, staggering under the weight of a lack of vision that would send them inevitably plummeting toward the dark side as surely as the sabotaged wroshyr had crashed into the Shadowlands.

 

It might have been that the Sith themselves were urging the Jedi toward such disharmony, pulling them apart at the seams, destroying them before they even had opportunity to make a stand. This was troubling, but she had no way of proving it.

 

Unless…

 

The meeting on Chandrila swam before her mind, harkening back to the first time she had presented herself to the service of the Order since her odd resurrection. Their concerns had been about Grandmaster Raikanda, who had vanished from the galaxy since his meeting with the Wookiee Master. But Kirlocca had not been worried about his old friend Dahar; instead, his concerns revolved around Dahar's right-hand man, Tobias Vos. Vos, who had sent Xae and Jaina relic hunting, before they learned that the Cult of Morthos was systematically collecting tomes of Force knowledge throughout the galaxy; who had allegedly been a Sith Lord and now operated within the Jedi Order with little to no oversight.

 

And now Kirlocca was dead, and Vos was on the Council.

 

The Wookiee Master had commissioned her, welcomed her home, and believed in her when she had lost the ability to believe in herself. She owed him a great debt that would never be repaid, not in this life, on this side of the Force.

 

So she would honor him the best way she knew how.

 

She would pour her blood, sweat, and tears into uniting the Jedi, and get to the bottom of the shadow that had fallen over the Order. They would no longer be aggressors, at the whim of power-hungry and squabbling governments. They would become who the Force had ordained them to be: protectors, healers and givers of life, bastions of justice, uncompromising in their stance against the darkness that was within as well as without.

 

Tapping a message into her comm, she exhaled heavily. “Graanta, Kirlocca has fallen. I need a place to assemble the Jedi in his honor.”

 

The aged Wookiee chieftainess inclined her head solemnly. If she was surprised, she gave no indication.

 

<”Tonight we will rest at our neighboring village, where we will tend to our wounded and say our ritual farewell to Tree Rwookrrorro. Our clan will journey tomorrow to the great sky city of Kachirho, in the coastal region. There, we may assemble the honor guard from the gathered tribes and prepare a fitting memorial. The galaxy may join with Kashyyyk as it mourns its greatest servant.”>

[Frond]

Frond wandered the forest floor toting the dead form of Calmin until The Force brought him together with his newfound companions of the time. At their suggestion, he agreed to bury the Miraluka he was carrying in an effort to refurnish even a small bit of life to the forest that the being had so recklessly tried to destroy by seeking to manipulate The Force against its will.

 

After this, having little else to do aside from return to meditation, Frond opted to follow along with Jaina and Misal to the funeral of the one whose death had echoed so clearly through The Force. As he followed, his companions boarded a lift. Leave the forest floor? It was something he had not done in many many years!; but perhaps The Force was guiding him. After all, he had stumbled across a plethora of those who would seek to manipulate The Force in just this short time. Oh, but how he longed to return to his meditations, lost completely Beyond Shadows, walking as one with The Force!

 

As the group made their way from the treetop village towards Kachirho where the ceremony for the fallen Jedi would take place, Frond found himself pondering his newfound companions. They seemed so different; yet both seemed to think that in some way The Force was theirs to bend and control. Still, they seemed to think that doing so was for the good.

 

FIVE: The Force guides all, but each is free to choose right from wrong

 

As they walked, Frond fell into step with Jaina and Misal. Without looking at either, but staring straight ahead as they walked he spoke, his voice slow and deep akin to his flora-based origin, The Force. You seek to Manipulate it? For Good? Why? The Force is Master of all. Not we.

[Roene Givrah]

Barefeet on sand; a better feeling, Roene did not know. The embrace of warm earth upon the calluses of his feet brought a jovial lift to his idle thoughts.

 

Urging his padawan to follow, Roene left the shuttle on the outskirts of Kachiro and made swiftly to the coastal city, shedding his thin moccasins in the process. The mental leash that tethered Tyue and Roene together was loosed to allow the Garral some playtime on the planet's surface, but a measure of caution was imprinted upon the pup to ensure that he respected the Wookiee's boundaries. They were a proud people and preferred to remain isolated from the galaxy wide conflicts that took hold every decade or so. It wasn't in their nature to impose their will on others. And yet, they were preyed upon by criminals and thieves. Enterprising malevolent people would take advantage of their strength and attempt to harness their might for their own ends. But this was never the Wookiee's wish. They wish to live in peace, just like any other world subjected to domination by their peers.

 

So much darkness, bound within the will of those too greedy to see the beauty all around them.

 

Roene, as he approached the first wooden platforms leading to the great city, knelt at the city's farthest edge. He bowed his head and took a deep breath. The smell of the sea, wrapped within the warm afternoon winds; the aural beauty of animal calls echoing in the distance and plants tickling the sky; the verdant greens, earthy browns and colorful bouquet of natural wonders, were a feast for the senses. He took all of it in, washing the impurities of smog and grief from his weary frame and allowed the detritus to dissolve in the purifying balm that excited his senses. A grand smile lifted Roene's face into an expression of sheer joy.

 

The veins of flowers and trees near him streamed with brilliant light that filled each of them with an undeniable vitality. A vitality that sang in every facet of the planet's spirit, down to the roaring of its heart.

 

The Cerean greeted the Wookiee guards with a deep bow and smiled to each of them. He waited for permission before following his escort to the appropriate funeral grounds.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Jaina led the trio along with the cavalcade of Wookiees toward their Walkway encampment, where they would stop for the night before transports arrived to take them to Kachirho the next day. Graanta had already commed ahead, announcing their plans, and reassurances were offered that all proceedings were being prepared, as well as lodgings as the steady stream of Jedi that would be arriving over the next days. Picking her footsteps between groups of Wookiees, Jaina finally settled in at the outskirts of the assembled villagers, displaced from the destruction of their ancient home.

 

Weak from the beating her body had taken, she found herself utterly grateful to sit, propped up against the broad support of a neighboring wroshyr as they gathered and exchanged ration bars. Frond's question, while seemingly impractical for the moment, nevertheless brought a smile to Jaina's face. While she had a hunch that Frond himself was fairly timeless, his questions and curiosities were those of a young child or beginning apprentice, and the earnest simplicity of the question warmed her weary heart.

 

"When the Jedi say they 'use' the Force, this is a misnomer. A Jedi allows the Force to flow through them. We become vessels of the living Force, or agents of its will. We only bend it to our use in order to sustain life, which in and of itself creates the Force. So, in a way, the Jedi become partners with the Force. Not just for one person's idea of good, but in order to multiply and strengthen the power and will of the Force," she said quietly, gazing into the flickering light of the fire that had been built in a large stone basin nearby on the walkway.

 

A pang of wistfulness hit her as she continued speaking, her mind unconsciously reaching for Raynuk and the reassurance of his constant presence, connected intrinsically to her. "There are others," she began slowly, "who believe that the Force has no will, but simply exists, a power available for our use. Or even more who believe that the Force must be used to stop those who tap into the Force to destroy life. But fighting fire with fire only burns forests down, and fighting hatred with hatred only multiplies suffering."

 

Her eyes flicked back up to Frond, hazel-green warmth radiating from within them. "The Force does lead us, and often not in ways we want to go. It's the burden of a Jedi to follow regardless."

[Darex Trevelian]

The shuttle carrying one adult, three children, and a nanny droid appeared out of hyperspace over Kashyyyk. Darex, as was his habit, reached out with the Force immediately to get a sense of the place. What he picked up was the sensation of a dark side disturbance recently cleansed.

 

As they drew closer to the tree tops, he whistled as he saw the fallen wroshyr tree. Much had been destroyed in it's path, but the pain he was sensing seemed to come from the forest itself and not the Wookiees. He hoped that meant that little sentient life had been lost as it fell. Already as they approached, he could sense the presences of several Jedi. He took a deep breath and centered himself. It was time.

 

The shuttle landed gently on a designated platform at Kachirho, and after a few minutes, the occupants exited. A Wookiee was there to meet them, and Darex bowed to her. "Greetings," he said. "I am Jedi Master Trevelian, and these are my children Jax and Alana, and my padawan Tirzah. We are here to honor Jedi Master Kirlocca."

 

The Wookiee growled a welcome. Darex didn't understand much more than the very basics of Shyriwook, but he understood enough to know that the Wookiees were expecting an influx of Jedi and that housing had been prepared for them. He motioned for the children to follow, and TY-K0 came trailing after them. The twins were wide-eyed as they took in the Wookiee city, and Darex could tell from their uncharacteristic silence that they, too, felt the solemnity in the Force.

 

Once they had been shown their quarters, the twins wanted to explore. Darex gave them permission, and they headed off with an old Wookiee who had taken an immediately liking to them. "You can join them if you want, Tirzah," he added. "Or if you want, you can come with me. I'm going to try to find the other Jedi."

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Watching the retreating footsteps of Jax and Alana, Tirzah inhaled the fresh forest air. It had, at first, reminded her of her childhood hideaway on Endor, except that the trees here were far older and grander. For the space of several moments, she reminisced about her old friend Dika, a young Ewok whose parents had been destroyed in the blast that had claimed most of Endor's surface. He had been a good companion when she had no other, and given the lifelessness of the moon, it had served as an adequate location to hide Tirzah's presence in a time when her aunt had lacked confidence in her own ability to protect the girl.

 

But here, there was an ancient sort of darkness that was not pernicious or hostile, but rather, simply somber. As her senses extended outward in the Force, Tirzah detected a familiar presence. Tilting her chin upward toward her new master, she smiled. "Thank you, Master Darex. I'd like to walk around a bit, if that's all right. I won't leave the landing area, and I'll go find Jax and Alana when I'm done."

 

As she padded down the long wooden platform, her eyes fell on the vaulted cranium of an acquaintance she had seen not long ago on Corellia. "Master Roene?"