Dathomir

[Onderin Starlisk]

Surprise was the chief emotion Onderin felt regarding the penalty Qaela had absorbed in order to get Arleigh safely offworld. The act of compassion stood in stark contrast to the words the Nightsister had just spoken about being eternally tied to the darkness. She had in the same breath both confirmed and denied her willingness to put the girl's interests before her own. Surely if Master Kirlocca had seen the version of Qalea that now stood before him, he would not have even dreampt of removing her children from her by force. For not the first time, Onderin wondered if his actions had influenced her or if Kirlocca's perception of her had been as flawed as his decision.

 

The Jedi Master met her gaze. "The choice is yours," he said. "I will not deny you if you wish to accompany us. Either way, I am grateful for your sacrifice to save Arleigh, and I consider our debts settled." He didn't really consider there to have been a debt in the first place, for the way he had helped Qaela had been the only correct course prompted by the Force, but he knew she put great stock in such things.

 

"I think our next move regards the events that we witnessed on Bothawui. I have little doubt that the Bothans' secession from the Galactic Alliance, as well as the presence that was guiding it, could lead to civil war if unchecked. This I would like to prevent if possible," he continued. Hopefully, that would be enough for Qaela to make her choice.

 

Onderin turned to look at Arleigh. "I'm glad to have you along, Arleigh," he said to the girl. "Your path is also up to you. You are obviously strong in the Force, and if you wish it you could become a Jedi. If not, you're welcome to travel with us for as long as you need to get your bearings and part ways whenever you're ready." No doubt Qaela would not approve if the girl chose the Jedi's path, but Onderin wanted it to be very clear that he was leaving everything up to her. For perhaps the first time, Arleigh would have the autonomy to make whatever choice she felt most appropriate. It was a big decision for a teenager, but no one else could decide for her. "You don't have to decide right away if you don't want," he added.

[Ads-Gop Flif]

Ads was surprised that Qaela was being so candid with Onderin. From what he could hear, she seemed to be actually opening up about how strong (or weak) she was compared to the other Nightsisters. Her explanation for why she would save the girl made no sense to Ads but he wouldn't question Qaela about it unless Onderin did.

 

The girl glanced back at Ads and smiled. Ads gave her what he hoped didn't look like an awkward smile. He still felt a bit uncomfortable around her but he didn't want her to know; she was young and didn't need to be troubled by those things. Onderin spoke to her, allowing Ads to relax as he listened in. Onderin presented Arleigh with a big decision. A very big decision, especially for someone her age. All things considered, there was no way the girl could make an informed decision.

 

"In fact," he interjected before Arleigh could answer, "it's probably best if you don't decide now. Master, wouldn't you think that she should really experience what the Jedi do and at least some of the galaxy beyond this planet before giving an answer? It is a life-changing choice, after all."

[Qaela]

Qaela said nothing in response to Starlisk's invitation or plans. It didn't much matter where they went, though if he thought she was going to allow a mob of those furry cretins to chase her through the streets this time, he was sorely mistaken. They seemed interested in the fate of the girl, though she felt it was inevitable. The girl was too weak to be a Nightsister and the Sith would kill her within the first week of her training. The only people who could take her were the Jedi.

 

Qaela remained silent, concealing her emotions behind a stone face and mental shields. Her reasons for coming along were multiple, though she wasn't quite ready to humiliate herself further by airing them out. She had spoken and admitted enough in front of the Jedi pup, she wasn't going to continue now that they had added another pair of ears to the mix. She would follow them whenever they decided to board the ship and stay wherever they put her, even if that was on the floor.

[Arleigh Burke]

There was a distant crack that echoed from several hundred meters behind their party. Perhaps a wild animal stepping on a large branch, she did not know. SHe drew her bow to full and doubled her speed. If they were lucky, whatever was tailing them would loose them in the night. Or perhaps it was her imagination. But it sure did sound like a rancor. She hoped the ships would be coming up soon. Otherwise, who knew what was in store.

 

((I sincerely apologise, my internet has been refusing to connect to Jedi.net))

[Onderin Starlisk]

((Uh. Looks like you missed a few posts, Arleigh. But I get the feeling we can't leave until we deal with Wally anyway.))

 

Onderin watched Arleigh as she broke off the conversation and seemed to put herself on alert. He immediately stretched out with his feelings, attempting to discern whether they had been followed. He got the impression that it wouldn't exactly turn out for the best if the Nightsisters discovered them leaving in the middle of the night.

 

But he made no move for his lightsaber. Even if they were discovered, there would not be a fight.

[Arleigh Burke]

((HOLY CRAP AM I BAD AT THIS GAME))

 

The footsteps sounded familiar. Almost as if they were Wally's. Wally. How in the world had she forgotten?

 

The Rancor pup came bounding explosively from the undergrowth and wrapped her in his large comforting arms. "Put me down please." It wined expressively and she grabbed its collar. Embarrassed she turned to the jedi.

 

"Is, is there room for him?" He wasn't that big at this point, no bigger than a large speederbike. If a speederbike liked to eat and poop alot.

[Onderin Starlisk]

Onderin's eyes widened in alarm when a young rancor appeared out of nowhere and headed straight for Arleigh, but he restrained his instinct to draw his lightsaber in her defense for one instant to throw a glance at both the Nightsisters. That moment was enough to realize that neither of them were alarmed, and indeed Arleigh seemed quite pleased to see the beast. The Jedi Master sent a reassuring glance at Ads and accordingly let his guard slip again as he came to the conclusion that this rancor belonged to the girl.

 

It presented an interesting conundrum, however. Although the rancor could fit on the ship, there were issues beyond that.

 

"I think this is a choice for you to make, Arleigh," he answered after a moment. "As he is now, he will fit aboard the ship. However, our future is uncertain. There are many places in this galaxy we could end up going that are very poorly-suited to a rancor, and many other places where having such a pet is illegal. He could end up penned up for quite some time or even worse. Furthermore, even if we found a suitable place for him, he may soon grow too big to transport."

 

It would test her responsibility to make such a choice. "You must decide what you think are in his best interests. I will not deny him passage as long as you take care of cleaning up after and... feeding him." Onderin hadn't the slightest idea of how much meat it would take to feed a rancor, even a small one. But he he had a strong feeling that it was a lot.

[Ads-Gop Flif]

Ads was just about ready to attack the rancor when he noticed that Onderin was not about to attack. He was very surprised that no one else seemed concerned about a rancor flinging itself at the girl. He wasn't really sure what was going on so he just watched the conversation unfolding before him.

[Arleigh Burke]

Arleigh stop;ped, her heart full of indecision. There he was, standing before her, all that tied her to this old life. The Jedi was right of course, he didn't belong on some jedi planet. He needed to grow free, free from whatever her life would become. She leaned forward and caressed his rock-like snout. Inviting a wimper from the beast. She put her hand between its wide spaced eyes and whispered a soft chant.

 

Ieerich Voster Hoenemhiem

 

She kissed him again, and with a lonely howl he was gone. Her thin shoulders sagged, and she leaned against the shuttle, willing back tears.

 

"Lead on master jedi."

[Onderin Starlisk]

Onderin nodded in approval when Arleigh let the rancor go. It was important that she was willing to make sacrifices of her own volition--it would prepare her for the days ahead, for facing the adulthood that was being thrust upon her.

 

The Jedi Master promptly turned and headed into the shuttle, back toward the cockpit. He hadn't honestly expected to be leaving the world with even one Nightsister, and now there were two on board. They were building quite a merry little band, it seemed, although they were from such diverse walks of life that their mere association ranged in Onderin's own perception from merely unlikely to downright bizarre. Whether their goals could remain unified without mutual peace between their peoples as a prize they could both pursue remained to be seen, but given that it was the Nightsisters who had attached themselves to him rather than the other way around, at this point all he could do was proceed according to his own goals and see what came of it.

 

When he stepped back and looked at it, Qaela seemed more of a riddle to him now than ever. She put such tremendous stock in the well-being of her children that she had accepted the aid of her most hated enemy to get them back, and yet now she had left them behind to follow him, all the while seeming to be nothing but resistant to what he wished to teach her. Sometimes she seemed to soften to the Jedi way of life, but other times seemed to loathe its fundamental ideals. Ultimately, he figured she could leave at any time, and the fact that she chose to remain meant that whatever Onderin was to her, he wasn't yet intolerable.

 

The Corellian smiled to himself. He would see how long that lasted. For now, the first priority was getting off Dathomir. Once everyone was aboard, he lifted off and headed for deep space. He needed to go somewhere quiet where he could put his ear to the ground and see if things had developed politically in the last few days. He plotted a jump toward the core, knowing there would be a few stops along the way.

[Ads-Gop Flif]

Ads followed Onderin to the cockpit and settled in beside him (unless the cockpit only had one seat, in which case he stood behind Onderin and slightly to the side, leaning against a bulkhead. But come on, this is Star Wars, don't all ships larger than fighters have at least two seats in the cockpit?). He leaned back and stretched, tired from the walk and also kind of tired because Qaela stole them away in the middle of the night. The walk had woken him up a bit, but let's be honest, he was still tired from having to suddenly leave in the middle of the night. As the shuttle climbed, he turned around to take a look at the passengers in the cabin, aft of the cockpit. Turning back to the starfield before them, Ads yawned before he spoke to Onderin.

 

"So, Master, now that we're technically guilty of a galactic offense of kidnapping a minor, where are we going next?" The stars stretched into brilliant streaks of blue and white. "Perhaps we should let someone know that we removed her from an environment that was a danger to her well-being before the accusations start flooding in."

[saberforce]

The Orar blasted out of hyperspace above Dathomir and it's pilot almost immediately gave it a cold ice stare behind his buy'ce. Tros took a long moment to actually take the planet in. It was as large as Coruscant, yet seemed primitive, even from as far up as he was within his own cockpit. Outside of the Nightsisters and Rancors, the beroya knew almost nothing about the planet. He knew from others that the floor was a jungle, and that there were ports to land at, and if you were a male, don't wander outside of the ports. Yet somehow, deep within the very bottom of his core, Tros could almost sense a tingle up his spine, one that he may have felt the last time he spoke to his dar'buir. It could just be his own anger rising, yet it could be something that the man he once looked up to had inspired in him and left it buried deep down. There was no way to tell. Either way, he had to find out more about this medallion. He didn't know why, but he felt like it was consuming him until he found out about it.

 

As he had his fighter begin it's decent towards the planets surface, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a holodisk that carried a message from Riella. Tros had yet to hear it, and he refused to until he discovered the truth about the medallion. But sampling holding it between his fingers gave him a sense of purpose and belonging. It was by this point, all that was left of his kin. Letting out a sigh, he placed it back in a pocket and returned to the focused task of landing the ship. As the ship approached the landing port that he was given access to, ht took note that the planet had lots of hills, mountains, fields, and was indeed covered in a jungle of trees. It would make the search hard and long. Landing didn't take long, nor did getting a starting point. No one at the port wanted anything to do with the medallion, and all pointed him towards the jungles with a single word. Nightsisters. So, dar'buir you managed to collect something from someone dangerous. It is now my duty to mar'eyir the truth of whom you were and where you traveled.

 

Tros began his long journey into the jungle, although this time taking more than his blaster riffle with him. On his hip was his ori'vod's blaster, and all of his equipment was loaded to the max it could carry. If he was to engage against a Nightsister or a Rancor, he would be ready and able to defend himself.

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

((Posting as NPC's here to give Tros someone to RP against on his quest.))

 

In a small port town like the one nearest the dark and dangerous Great Canyon region, rumors travelled swiftly through its populace, especially those surrounding the great clan of Nightsisters that had once controlled the area.

 

Nea'hem looked up in disbelief when one of the older males nodded in the direction of the stranger that had been moving from shop to shop, seeking information about a particular sigil he bore. "That's him! I swear it. I saw him with the medallion in the bar myself!"

 

The greying Dathomri man looked at his counterpart skeptically before squinting to make out what he could of the other man. It was a Mandalorian alright, but that didn’t immediately mean it was Eri’anya’s old lover. Plenty of Mandalorians or at least those that wore the armor came through these parts from time to time. It honestly depended on how much of a bounty they could expect to collect if they chose to foolishly pursue the Witches of the planet.

 

Many had gone into the woods, he knew of a far few that had ever returned. “What makes you think he’s Ardell?” he grumbled. Daris had not been fond of the man who’d displaced him as the favorite for a time. "Could be any one. The armor doesn’t match what I remember. You’re getting senile in your old age Daris."

 

The other man waived his hand. “Simple touch of paint to throw off would be pursuers..."

 

“Or it’s not him and you’re just chasing ghosts again. That nightmare is over, why go digging up the past?” Nea’hem rolled his eyes and finished his drink as he watched the armored man disappear into the unforgiving wilderness of the Dathomiri jungle.

 

“You can’t tell me you’re not the least curious.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Liar. The jungle’s a dangerous place, why not see what he’s about? You know, in the spirit of being good neighborly citizens.” Daris smiled widely at him. The man was more apt to put a knife in Ardell’s back than actually be of any service.

 

Nea’hem realized that Daris wasn’t going to let the issue go. The two of them had a long and sordid history together having narrowly escaped the unexpected blood bath that had engulfed the rest of their clan almost three years prior since they were out hunting when Eri’anya’s son decided to go berserk and slaughter the entire clan for no apparent reason. Daris and Nea’hem didn’t stick around long enough afterwards to look too deeply into what had happened. Each wore a cuff covering the Great Canyon emblem branded on their forearms, one that matched the medallion this careless Mando was flashing about town. “Fine. Since you seem to have a death wish, we’ll follow him."

 

Daris laughed gleefully, grateful to have something to break up the monotony of their days butchering the meat others brought to them and offering it for sale then hitting up the local bar before repeating the same routine day in and day out.

 

“Let’s go hunting."

[saberforce]

Tros began his trek through the jungle following the general direction he was given for the Nightsisters camp last reported location. The terrain was rough, but not beyond difficult for him to follow. His scanners on his buy'ce allowed for him to see the heat signatures of the local creatures and the potential threats he could come across. He became aware about five miles into his trek that there was at the very least one person following him out of the city. There could be five, but they remained far enough back that it was difficult for him to track them and still focus upon his current trail. He knew he couldn't keep up the tracking if he had followers tailing him all the way. He needed to lose them and fast.

 

Tros began to set up some false leads for those following him, which were tricks he had picked up during his training under ori'vod, of whom claimed he learned from his buir. Strange that he would use techniques of his buir, a man of whom he was trying to find out what he was hiding. He began to move his steps in a pattern that would suggest that he was drunk walking through the jungle. He hoped that he would get some time to setup a few traps that could catch his pursuers from the city.

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

Being the better tracker of the two, Nea’hem led with Daris trailing just out of sight further behind him. The two had hunted together many times within the thick jungles of the Dathomir wild. Their typical tactic had served them well on many a hunt and they felt it would serve them best now, especially with their skins to help them blend in with the dense jungle undergrowth. This was there arena, where they’d grown up and spent their youth and adulthood.

 

The Mandalorian would have to do better than he was to shift his pattern. Drunks wandered into the woods at their own peril, but rarely made such speed and moved with such purpose as this man had initially set out or were as well supplied.

 

Setting false leads took time, and it wasn’t long before the pair started gaining ground on the man’s lead. The tricks It might have fooled Daris up to a point, but Nea’ham found them disturbingly familiar.

 

Maybe the old fool is right, he wondered to himself as his eyes scanned for the true signs that had been left by the armored man’s passing. He figured they’d be little match for the arsenal they’d seen the man head off with, but there blaster rifles would still be needed whether they’d pursued him into the jungle or entered on their own. Every male in what passed for a Dathomiri city knew better than to venture into the forest unarmed.

 

His ears were attuned to the sounds of the jungle. It’s song ran through his very being as well as his counterparts. The same could not be said for the Mandalorian interloper. He could easily identify the sounds of the animals around them, the various calls of the birds and minor primates. Off in the distance, he heard the hunting call of a ssurian sound a great distance off.

 

He looked back at Daris, who’d caught back up with him as he’d sat listening. “Catch that?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

 

The greying man nodded, then jerk his head in the direction their original quarry was heading. “Idiot’s headed straight for it. I say we let him blunder in."

 

“This was your brilliant idea."

 

“Yeah, well, that was before I knew one of those damned lizards had setup shop in the area."

 

If that’s even what it really is, Nae’hem thought to himself as he pushed through the underbrush, still tracking their target.

 

Ardell or not, no matter how well-armed he appeared to be, no one deserved to run afoul of one of the great lizards or worse. He swore and drew his blaster rifle, his eyes using the scope to scan beyond his immediate vision’s limits and fired off a few rounds in the direction that he’d supposed the Mandalorian had run off in.

 

He wasn’t honestly trying to hit the man, but stop him long enough to try to engage them before he violated the saurian’s territory and got them all killed.

[saberforce]

Tros seemed to be a bit more distracted with those tailing him versus the trail to find the tribe that the medallion belonged to. He was about completely ditch his followers for the full trail that he needed to be fully focused upon, but then a shot ran past his visor on his buy'ce. He turned his head to see a few more shots run near him. Without any hesitation, Tros dropped to his left behind a tree, lifted his blaster riffle, he made a few quick return fire shots. The shots were not designed to strike the targets, but rather of him to spot them on his visor moving in the heat of battle. Whoever decided to shoot at him, it was going to be their last mistake they would make. If they wanted to shoot at him, they would end up dead. It was by the rules he lived, and its the rules he would force them to live by.

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

“Shit,” Daris said as he too had ducked for cover. “Now you’ve done it. You sure you couldn’t have just let him blunder into that beast?"

 

Nae’hem was about to respond when he felt the slightest vibration beneath his the soft, leather soles of his moccasins and knew meeting his comrades's eyes that the other man had felt it too.

 

There it was again, followed by another, though the rythym was slightly off-set from the first. Rancors...Multiple rancors. He realized as he felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. He looked at Daris as the two of them tried to figure out the direction they were coming from as the steps grew closer.

 

Frozen in place, the two men could only watch helplessly as two of the beasts approached from the sides of the path between the two former Nightslaves and their Mandalorian quarry. They heard movement behind them and turned to see several witches surrounding them from behind.

 

“Double shit,” Daris mumbled as he dropped his weapon, knowing better than to pick a fight with the witches. His nod directed Nae’hem’s glance towards where the shots had been returned from where another of the beasts was fast approaching the armored figure, a raven-haired witch astride.

 

“At least it’s not the Sisters,” Nae’hem remarked quietly as he too dropped his weapon and raised his hands in surrender.

[saberforce]

From everything that Tros could see, it appeared to be a trap that he had walked openly into. His mind raced as the ground shook violently beneath his feet and the two that had followed him out of the port city had their support come up from behind. It was now his turn to fully fight back. With a quick glance at all of the incoming threats, Tros raised his blaster riffle at the most dangerous of an immediate threat of the nearest Rancor that was charging him head on. He aimed and took his shot, squeeing of a quick three round burst at the Rancor's head. It wouldn't do much, except for slo the beast down, but it would help him regain the ground that he had already lost to them.

 

Tros then fired his trusters of his jetpack and allowed for him to take his aim on the next lenedat. It was a Rancor charging from the flank of the two who had originally followed him out. It would surprise them, leave them open enough for him to take a shot at those two. If at least no other surprises happen before he arrived at them.

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

Daris and Nae’hem walked ahead of the witches with their hands on the back of their heads as the women herded them back towards the direction the Mandalorian had gone.

 

One of the rancors strode past the pair, it’s rider leaping off the beast in defense of her sister. There was a snap-hiss as she activated her lightwhip flicked it towards the man’s neck, her goal being to subdue this male. “Bounty Hunters…Not Welcome,” she said in heavily accented basic.

 

Several of the others moved in beside her, including the three rancors, as Daris and Nae’hem were thrown towards the armored warrior.

 

This male’s next move would be his decision to live or die.

[saberforce]

Tros didn't like the turning tides of this battle already. The kyrbej had turned into a three way fight, as the rancors and witches riding them were attacking his followers, which became very evident that they were indeed male. It meant a few things for the beroya. He could kill all of the combatants, or let a few live to gain an overall favor with his aka that he was on. It didn't take him long to figure out which one favored him the most, and went for it within seconds.

 

Quickly, he turned his body and readjusted his position, still taking the shot on the rancor, he decided now instead to lower his body for a fast roll. After his shot struck the beast in the head, which wouldn't do anything to it besides for make it angry, Tros hit the ground and rolled to avoid being hit by the two men who had followed him out of the village. Upon landing, Tros fired out a pellet, which would seem like harmless smoke/gas pellet to anyone who had never seen such a thing before. The Mando aimed it at the majority of the group attacking. It's burst would have a good twenty-five feet wide and high spread, which he hoped would cover the whole area of the attackers. Upon its release and spreading, Tros turned his body around and reactivated his jetpack into the flammable gas. It was an escape tactic he had used a few times before, and it always sent those attacking running in the other direction. And even if the Rancors didn't, it would leave their hide easier to pierce with a blaster.

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

The fire was short lived as a low sound shook the forest area, cancelling out the flames as one of the rancor-riding witches unleashed her spell.

 

“Enough!” one of the others called, who’d shielded her sisters and the two males from the brunt of the attack with another spell. Most of them had minor to moderate burns, but had otherwise survived. “You! Armored male. Name yourself! State your business within our territory."

[saberforce]

Tros paused as he looked from the witches to the Rancors, the men, and then back at the witches again. He was confused and dazed for a moment. He held his vods blaster in one hand as e tried to figure out what was going on behind his buyce. After a long moment, responded finally to answer the questions. Although he figured that this culture would have zero knowledge of Mandalorians and their words.

 

"My name is Tros Ardell, of clan Ardell. I seek the clan or tribe whose symbol this belongs to..."

 

With his words, he used his free hand and tossed the medallion to the witch who had addressed him.

 

"My father was in possession of this, and I seek the information on why he had it and more of what he was doing here..."

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

The chieftess extended her hand towards the medallion and it floated into her grip. She examined it a few moments before tucking it within her own pouches. “You will come with us as our guest. I give my word you will not be harmed, though you may yet regret the path you’ve set yourself on.” She reigned in her rancor as she turned the beast back towards the depths of the forest. “Get the injured back to the healing huts for treatment, including the other two males. Stay with the Sisters Tros Ardell, they will see you safely to us. The jungles are no place to go wondering alone, even with all of your fancy gadgets."

 

With that she disappeared into the trees, trusting the others to carry out her orders.

 

The others had been applying some healing salves to the burns of those caught in Tros’s fiery blast, though the two males were giving them some trouble. The one with the streaks of grey at his temples and in his beard was glaring at Tros almost as though he’d seen a ghost.

 

Daris knew there would have only been one reason why either Ardell would have been in possession of the Great Canyon sigil in the first place. Eri’anya had always worried that the Mandalorian would one day come and take the girl by force, though she’d only voice the fears with him in their nights together. Daris had long been her secret keeper and lover. Ardell had been the only one that had ever upset that balance.

 

It grated on him that the ghost of the man who’d bested him in combat had remained long after he’d left continued to loom over him and his own position within the hierarchy of the males within the Nightsister Clan. The mercenary had been able to give the High Priestess what Daris had not - a daughter.

 

In the matriarchal society, paternity mattered little, but there was little doubt as to who the girl’s father had been. Her red hair and close resemblance to Ardell, only slightly tempered by Eri’anya’s softer features, left little question. Paternity may not have mattered much to the women and most males of the group, but it had certainly mattered to Ardell when the man circled back when Xae-Lin was a little over a year old.

 

Eri’anya had taken the man to her hut where none had dared venture too close to eavesdrop on the heated argument, many surprised she hadn’t killed Ardell on the spot for openly arguing with her. The result was Ardell being given leave to come and go as he pleased, but Eri’anya never took him back to her bed again.

 

Ardell's visits had always left the girl particularly willful, and it wasn’t long before Eri’anya had ultimately forbade him from seeing the young girl without being within her presence as well. It had given the Priestess great pleasure to draw the child away from the bond she’d begun to develop with her father. Eri’anya was known for her grudge-holding and being able to see the greater damage that could be done further down the road, rather than for the quick flash of satisfaction that would have come from killing him for their argument. Nothing ever came freely from her heart, everything had a cost and even Ardell had not been left immune.

 

Daris had taken great pleasure in playing ally to Ardell, only to be the one to betray him to Eri’anya when he’d been making plans to disappear with the girl. Daris had learned much from his mistress and he was glad to have the man gone for good.

 

Now, as he looked at the armored figure again, he wondered if he wasn’t about to get his own dose of retribution from the galaxy. Eri’anya most certainly had as they’d returned from the hunt, only to find the entire village slaughtered, or dying. Jungle whispers rumored it had been at the hands of that same daughter and a Mandalorian warrior in cyan armor.

 

Nae’hem glanced sideways at him, as though he knew what was running through his mind hearing the name “Ardell.” He slowly shook his head, as though warning his friend to reign in his hatred. This boy wasn’t his father and the faster they could set him on his way the better off for all. It seemed the magics of the Witches and Nightsisters had little desire to keep the family apart.

 

It wasn’t wise to get in the way of the magic’s will. Eri’anya and the rest of the Nightsisters of the Great Canyon Clan had learned that the hard way.

--------------------

 

It was a few miles before they came on the main settlement of the Witches. The chieftess was now standing amongst some of the elder women of the tribe apparently discussing the medallion she’d collected from Tros.

 

She waved him over as the group returned. “Tros Ardell, of Clan Ardell,” she introduced him to the others. “His father was the original owner. These are the elders of our tribe and hold the histories better than I. It is left to them whether or not to share them with you.”

 

Another male appeared beside the chieftess, “My Champion will host you and the other two males. Go with him and be rested. Know that what you seek is dangerous knowledge to possess and even more to seek out. Consider your reasons well.” With that she nodded and left with the elders into her own hut.

[saberforce]

Tros was a beroya, and a damn good one too. He took in every last sight there was for him to see on the village where he was taken. Noticed the wind direction, the movements of the witches and where they favored their sides. It was all due to him trying to keep an escape route open if things should fail. He wasn't sure what to expect, as these witches seemed all too accommodating to his request. The champion was a little on the short side for a male from Dathomir. Tros looked him up and down behind his buy'ce before nodding his head to accept going with he man.

 

"I will rest."

 

It was a simple declaration, and one that really held no purpose, other then to break up the thoughts patterns. He followed the man and took a long glance at the other two males. He knew better then to trust them, but he needed to pry information out of them, and the Champion too if he was able. He only partially believed the witch when she told him that the knowledge he sought was dangerous to posses. He knew that knowledge was anything but dangerous. Getting it on the other hand, he believed her that acquiring it could be dangerous, and that he could be pursued by others whom may seek out what he was looking for. But his life was one full of danger.

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

Daris shrugged off the guiding hand of one of the other males as he and Nae’hem were lead into the hut with Ardell. “Last I’d checked, I hadn’t gotten so old I’d forgotten how to walk! What are you looking at kid?” he snapped gruffly as he sat down on one of the rugs in the hut.

 

Nae’hem looked from Daris to the other. “Easy Daris. Just because the clan name is the same, doesn’t mean the kid is Bas’lan’s son. Though, by all means continue and pick a fight with him. He’s armored and your not. Your death to choose..."

 

“Bah!” Daris snorted and crossed his arms.

[saberforce]

Tros watched the two men banter both at him, each other, and the Champion of the witch. His eyes narrowed, as they were wasting time with their banter. But there was something interesting in their banter that was useful to him. Bas'lan. Bas'lan Ardell, his buir. Clearly the two knew him. He was on the right path.

 

"I am not Bas'lan's son. But if death is something you wish, I'd be happy to oblige. It's been too long since I've struck a man out cold with my bare fists."

 

Almost all of it was true, except the one lie of him not being Bas'lan's son. That information would do them no good at the moment, but them being lost in the dark could help him uncover more about the movements of dar'buir. He would need to place jekai.

 

"However you choose your own death is up to you. But maybe if you use common sense... I am a Bounty Hunter after all. Tracking people down for credits. Clearly this Bas'an person did you harm..."

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

The two men laughed heartily at the man’s bravado. “Ardell, the only harm that son of a sister did was displace this lout a time or two with the clan leader’s favorite!” Nae’hem extended his hand. “You can put your threats away kid. Daris has always been more bluster than bite.”

 

The other man glared at Tros and Nae’hem both before he continued in his gruff laughter. “You’re Ardell arrogant alright. First and only time I’ve ever seen a man go against Eri’anya and live. Let alone to be invited to stay…” He coughed. “Word of advice if you don’t want to offend our hostesses, boy. Put your ego away."

[saberforce]

Tros didn't hesitate, gave no warning sign. They pushed a button, one they shouldn't have pushed. He drew his blaster pistol that once belonged to Riella and shot right past Daris' ear. Not close enough to harm him, but close enough to take off a hair or two. Almost as soon as he did, he lowered the blaster and spoke firmly.

 

"Speak of me as a boy or my ego again and the next sot will be in between your eyes. I didn't come to gain any favors from you, nor do I want your help past what is useful to me. Growing up the way I did will teach you a few lessons. First lesson learned... Grow up fast. My ego has long since been missing. It'll do you some good manners to learn that from me."

 

Tros carefully put the blaster back in it's holster and turned his full attention away from Daris and straight at Nae’hem.

 

"Muzzle your friend and you'll find my tongue as loose as both of yours. Bas'lan is not my father. I may be a product of his, but in my culture, he is considered dar'buir."

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

The man didn’t even flinch. He’d withstood far more from Eri’anya a time or two. This whelp of a boy felt the need to flex, then so be it. Despite his words to the older man, he still had much more of this “growing up” to do. The impulse control, or lack of it betrayed that much.

 

He didn’t get a chance to respond before the Champion stuck his head in. “This is your last warning, whatever squabbles are between the three of you, it’s in your best interest to leave them be or the Chieftess might just decide to take back her hospitality. Keep it civil or take your own damn chances in the forest!”

 

“Forgive me for striking such a delicate nerve,” Daris intoned with mock apology after the man had left.

 

Nae’hem shut him up with a glare. If the ego was absent, the kid certainly had one hell of a chip on his shoulder and continuing to poke at it was likely to get them all killed.

 

“If growing up without a father inspires such violence, are you sure you want to know the truth about what we know of him? If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather survive this encounter with the Witches than end up marked for death,” his voice was calm, reasonable, but firm at the same time. Both men had been champions in their own right, once, and knew how to navigate the intricacies of a matriarchal group. Continuing to pick a fight with the hot-headed Mandalorian would be the undoing of them all.

[saberforce]

Tros only cocked his head a little to the right, as his buy'ce would have hidden his face. The words spoken were of little to no real threat or hit. If the two morons wanted to keep control or an upper hand while addressing him, then they could have it. They were of no real use to him, but they seemed to think so. After he gets what he needs, a dart would be a subtle way to end their lives if they so choose to keep it up. They had their warning. If they failed to stay away from the subject, they would have a blaster in the back of their heads. So he now slowly nodded his head towards them. That was all they would get. They made their point and he made his. It was now p to them to not get killed.