Log:Jedi: Night of the Shadowbeast Part 2
With help from the archaeologist Bryett Cordair, Lira'una reaches out to the Jedi Order for help locating the missing page from Luke's journal of Lothal and hopefully finding the missing Jedi temple before the eclipse passes...
OOC Date: September 24, 2024
Location: Lothal
Participants: Lira'una, Bryett Cordair, Qutha Buvu Pah, Ben Solo, Rey
In a clearing outside the village of Tel Vara rests the darkened shape of the YT-2000 Twilight Dancer, Lira'una's transport and their ride for this particular quest -- well, most of them. Jedi Master Qutha Buvu Pah had arrived on his own, seemingly before his Padawan had even requested his presence.
The village of Tel Vara is modest but well-established, a collection of wooden structures built with care, their roofs thatched and walls sturdy. A high fence, made from sharpened stakes of slender trees, surrounds the entire settlement, angled outward to deter would-be intruders or animals.
Inside the fence that day, families had milled about, going about their daily tasks under the bright Lothal sun. Men and women in simple, primitive clothing tended to small crops in neatly arranged plots, while children run through the streets laughing and playing. Others engage in their work, mending tools or preparing food over small fires.
In the first part of their journey, Lira, Qutha, Rey, Ben, and Bryett arrived at the secluded community that has long distanced itself from modern technology. In search of a missing page from one of Luke's journals that may help them find a missing Jedi Temple, the group of 'explorers' were welcomed into the village with open arms once they agreed to help with some of the daily labor. The village elder, Bennar, along with Threnn (who handles most of the trading with tribes and leads some of the hunting expeditions) and Rinna (who helps with the crops and 'whatever else needs doing') agreed to meet with Ben and Bryett 'after dinner' to discuss whatever nearby ruins that the explorers were interested in.
No one had yet broached the subject of Luke's journal or the missing pages. Lira and Bryett had visited the primitive tribe before coming to Tel Vara and been warned that the elder and his people were not fond of that journal after a girl by the name of Syla became obsessed with it and disappeared.
That evening, as the sun began its slow descent, a few of the village's elder had approached the group with an unusually serious demeanor. He asked the explorers if they needed to retrieve anything from their ship before nightfall.
"Once the gates are sealed, they won't open again until morning," Bennar had said, his tone leaving little room for doubt that this was not just tradition, but necessity. When the group assured him they had everything they needed, Bennar only nodded, casting a glance toward the fading light with a sense of urgency before leaving them to their own devices. Soon after, the heavy wooden gates groaned shut, sealing the village in and whatever lurked beyond out.
As the first stars begin to twinkle in the clear Lothal sky, the village seems to come alive in a different way. Music drifts through the air, a soft and rhythmic melody played on handmade instruments. It's a simple, joyous sound, an invitation to leave behind the worries of the day and join in the community's traditions. Villagers of all ages gather around a central fire that's been lit in the heart of Tel Vara, casting flickering light across the scene.
Plates of food are handed out, with generous portions of roasted meats, fresh vegetables, and thick slices of bread. The villagers move with ease, passing along food and drink with a sense of camaraderie that suggests this is more than just a meal. This is the heart of the village's life, a time for bonding and celebration.
That night, Lira'una could have been spotted sitting with a plate of food by herself on a log near the back, quietly and pleasantly watching the festivities until she was joined by Bryett. The two spent some time talking and laughing, until eventually Lira set their plates aside and grabbed his hands, dragging him up towards the bonfire where they danced with a group of the village's children.
Lira had seemed calmer and more at peace in that moment -- dancing around the bonfire, smiling and enjoying the company of Bryett, the children, and the other villagers -- than she had since she'd gotten back from Ilthara, the outer rim planet she'd been stranded on for more than six months. Eventually, Lira and Bryett reclaimed their seats on that log, and it wasn't long before Threnn approached Bryett and Ben individually.
"Bennar will see you now," he tells them, showing them to one of the most central of the structures. It's not large, but its function as a kind of 'town hall' is hard to miss. Bennar is sitting at what passes for a conference table, and though it's very primitive, it's good craftsmanship. There are low stools instead of chairs all around it. Plenty for everyone if they wish to come along out of curiosity, though there's no imperative. None of the others are pulled away from their dinners, though it wouldn't be hard to notice Bryett and Ben being summoned, should anyone wish to follow.
There are, however, plenty of villagers still out and smiling around the bonfire. The music is still playing, and there's a sense of enjoyment in the air despite the fact that the gates have been sealed and won't reopen again until sunrise.
Seeming unperturbed by the demands that the village remains closed at night. Unperturbed by anything, seemingly. He'd kept to himself when he was not working, often ranging outside the walls until it was required to be inside.
And on at least one occasion appearing within the village border after the gates had already closed, much to the confusion of many locals
While everything is food and music the zelosian is content to be off to one side of it all until they're called to meet this Bennar. Moving silently with his hands folded into the sleeves of his cloak like jacket, hood drawn and his features obscured from moment to moment. To what purpose had there been such delay?
Tradition?
Suspicion?
Qutha voiced none of these questions, merely appearing now that they finally had audience, hands folded before him and looking to the village elder with his face shaded and eyes glimmering in the dim.
Ben had joined the hunting parties, recalling his own time at Luke's original temple where they would hunt and prepare their own meals. Much like Master Qutha, Ben had kept to himself upon returning to the village. A small and modest camp had been set up to Ben's specifications; a stool, a tarp, and a small fire for cooking what he trapped or shot.
Much of the tools he used had been borrowed from the local hunters. Ben had grown particularly fond of an old long bow, and though reluctant, he had always given it back when the time came to end the day. Today was one such, and he was easy to find when the villagers alerted them that Bennar was ready to speak.
Unvoiced frustration had required Ben to often meditate and bury old emotions. He could hear his uncle's voice preaching on about patience and 'all due time', but it only served to irritate him further. Solace was found in his connection to the force, searching outward and feeling the rushing stream of power. Upon the current, he found a place where time did not matter, and at night when others rested, he meditated, and waited.
When summoned though, Ben rose from his modest camp and followed inward, his tall frame easy to spot in a crowd.
It was better to be a warrior in a garden, than a gardener in a war. Or something.
After they had been welcomed in to the village, Rey had gotten herself settled in as best as a stranger can, in a strange land. She had spoken to some of the locals, held friendly greetings, and then volunteered to help them with their farming needs. In a light amount of clothing, having shed some of her traveling layers, Rey set in to simply providing the aid of which she'd honed over the past decade working on the fields of Tempes, where it was no small feat to raise crops. Lothal was a veritable oasis, compared to the colder climate of Tempes.
She'd worked hard, and ended up quite covered in new layers, of dirt, but it had been rewarding, mentally, and physically.
After getting cleaned up, Rey attended the social soiree, back with her outer robe on, she had sat amongst some of the farmers she had conversed with earlier in the day, sharing stories of them of her explorations, as she omitted anything related to the Jedi. It was not that hard to leave out the Jedi Order elements of her life, and merely focus on the vast amount of galactic exploration that she has done in the past two decades. She's been on a two decade whirlwind adventure of seeing the strangest places, the darkest places, and the brightest mountain tops of the galactic offerings.
At the party, Rey enjoyed some of the fresh food, and even she could be seen laughing at some of the things said in conversation, and she was known for very rarely laughing at much of anything! When the time came that Ben and Bryett were summoned, Rey shot them both a look from her place upon a sturdy chair near a table laden with food and drinks.
When Bryett stands to go, Lira leans forward from her seat to collect the duffel he ways kept at his feet, handing it up to him with a smile. It was the same duffel she'd eyed earlier, trying to figure out where the journal she'd given him for safe keeping had run off to. "Don't forget this," she'd said with a little smile, once more leaving Luke's old book of notes and findings in the archaeologist's hands.
Once Bryett had gone, Lira took a moment to look around, noticing Ben and Qutha going into the little meeting hall, and instead of joining the revelry again, the lavender Twi'lek decided instead to make her way over beside Rey, slipping gracefully -- but not elegantly -- down onto a stool beside her. She's not prim and proper like some kind of noble or aristocrat, but it's hard for her to ever entirely betray that dancer's grace.
"Thank you. For answering my call. For coming. I know you must be busy," the Twi'lek girl says with a small smile on those purple lips.
Some of the other villagers gather in a little closer to the two of them. "So where are you all from, anyway?" a young woman who still looks skeptical, despite many of the others being openly welcoming, asks of Rey and Lira.
Inside, Bennar looks up from his plate as Threnn leads the three explorers into the modest hall. The structure is simple yet sturdy, its wooden walls adorned with a few hand-carved decorations that speak of the villagers' resourcefulness and pride in their craftsmanship. A series of small, flickering oil lamps hang from the ceiling, casting a warm, amber glow across the room. The light dances over the rough-hewn table, polished from years of use, and the low stools gathered around it. The scent of freshly cut wood mingles with the faint aroma of the bonfire outside, and the occasional waft of roasted meat drifts in through the open windows, carried by a gentle evening breeze.
Bennar, still chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bread, nods in greeting as they enter. The elder is a man well into his years, his skin weathered and tanned by the sun, his hair a faded gray. He's finishing the last bites of his meal, a simple plate of roasted root vegetables and a small cut of meat. As the explorers take their seats, Threnn steps forward.
"I'll take this for you, Bennar," Threnn offers, gesturing to the plate. Bennar smiles gratefully and hands it over, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve.
"Thank you, Threnn," he says, his voice steady and calm, though there's a hint of fatigue in his eyes. He gestures to the empty stools around the table, inviting the others to sit. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I hope you enjoyed the food. I know it may not be what you're used to, but we grow everything ourselves, and we're proud of it. Thank you for your contributions today."
He leans back slightly, resting his hands on the table as he studies the faces of his guests. "It's not often we have visitors from beyond the trees, let alone those who are willing to lend a hand. Most come with more demands than offerings."
Threnn quietly takes a seat at Bennar's side, his eyes sharp as he observes the guests. He's a man of few words, preferring to let his elder do the talking, but his presence is steadying. There's a quiet strength about him, an unspoken assurance that he's here to support Bennar in whatever way is needed.
Bennar continues, his gaze steady but not unkind. "You mentioned earlier that you're explorers, looking for ancient sites. I have to admit, that's not something we hear often. Most who come through these parts are traders, wanderers, or those who've lost their way." He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he chooses his words carefully. "But you've shown us respect. You've helped us. So, if there's something you're truly seeking, maybe we can help you find it. But I need to know... what exactly are you looking for?"
Outside, the sound of music and laughter from the ongoing celebration filters in.
"I go where'n I feel I done needs t'go. An' presently, the lot've us here have that same inklin'."
Qutha speaks up simply, hands still folded, remaining standing rather than claiming a seat. The Zelosian's voice quiet but carrying while his gaze holds onto the elder still.
"Ain' no need for aught else, reckon. Ain' lookin' for aught of yers, or t'make any sorta ruckus. We jus' done need see them ruins we been askin' on. A simple matter, n'we'll be outcha way. If they's some sorta beast there, well I 'spect we can 'vestigate, see ifn' it kin be driven off or explained. Not all as much else to say, ye ken?"
Simple, to the point, his expression as neutral as the man's stance.
Made even simpler, Ben added, "My Uncle came here long ago, and he left some things behind. We have reason to believe that any place he visited held some significance even if it doesn't seem obvious. If we find clues about his visit, I suspect that may be enough to satisfy our interests."
Ben ran his hand back through his hair to pull it from his face. Unfortunately, it brought the scar that marred one side of his face to light, accentuating the presence unintentionally. Ben had grown so accustomed to it that he didn't even notice.
The revelry, the atmosphere, the quaint setting, and the people that lived within it seemingly day to day. It reminded Rey of the trips to Kashyyyk, to celebrate Life Day within the massive Woshyr tree forest. The Wookiees had a similar down to earth way about their lives, that these villagers have, and Rey wondered what her life would have been like if she had gotten to grow up in such a serene place.
"Jakku." Rey answered the question, as to where she was frun. "It's a dusty world, a sandy world. It is nothing like this place..." She said, showing a warm smile, and hoping to express that peaceful calm that this locale had brought up within her spirit, her fingerprint within the flow of the Force itself.
Her hazel eyes went to Lira, beside her, and she let her smile grow at the sight of the young Twi'lek. "This is important," she answered her. "So, yes, I am more than happy to be here. I am glad that you're following up on it all, as well. It is an adventure worth embarking upon, and Luke... Well, he lived a life worth trying to piece together in a more clear picture. I wish I'd gotten a chance to ask him about things like this, places like this." She stated in a soft tone of her Core Worlds accented voice. "Bryett seems like a capable man too. You two seemed to be having fun, also." She added, showing Lira a light grin.
"Hopefully we can come away from this with a little more insight on the mysteries of that book..."
The dusty haired man is rather inordinately fond of that duffle, or at the very least keeps pretty close tabs on it. Perhaps even more so then normal given that it is the likely home to the journal that has been entrusted to him, at least temporarily.
Really, it probably makes sense. For the last several years pretty much everything he owns, anything that still matters to him at all has been tucked away in that pack, brought with him everywhere he goes. It might be the closest thing to a home that he has these days.
So when Lira quicky stands up, offers him that pack before he can wander off in his haste to maybe finally get some answers about the missing page of the journal they're seeking, about what has brought them to Lothal in the first place, well, Bryett flashes a grateful smile her way before hefting the bag over one shoulder and quickly hurrying to join the others.
Threnn receives a brief smile and a nod as the archaeologist falls in with the others -- the man's help on the hunting expedition, his pointing out of some of those ruined little traces of the past hardly forgotten -- and Bryett glances about the well-cared for interior they are ushered into. It might not have the elaborate display of authority that those in the city might be accustomed to, but it isn't hard to tell that it means something to these people. Which is enough to guide the man to show the proper level of deference.
He dips his head respectfully towards Bennar, grateful that he did not let the initial impatience for answers to press this man or the rest of the village. Whether or not they will have the answers that they need -- in the time frame that they will need it with the eclipse looming before them all too soon -- is another matter of course. But spending this day in labor, in giving time to the locals to get used to the idea of them, to see them as welcome visitors instead of an unwanted imposition suddenly feels well worth the effort.
When offered, Bryett slips down into that seat, leaving the floor to the other two. He might have been drawing into this -- through sheer coincidence -- but he is well aware that his own stake in this little exploration is... different from their own. So he is more then willing to let Qutha and Ben take the lead, watching them and only letting his gaze flicker back to the village elder after they have had their say.
"There is also a book. A journal, that I believe was in the possession of one of your people once. It's missing a page and we were hoping to find some clue of what of might have happened to it," he chimes in. "Whatever you know about it, or about ancient ruins that might be nearby, even tales or legends passed down by your people -- any of it could potentially be of value," he asserts quietly, managing to keep that building urgency, the building excitement free of his words.
Much like the young woman who had asked the question of Rey, Lira was also listening to the Jedi Grand Master's response with rapt attention. For as much as Lira 'knew of' the heroes of the Resistance or the Jedi Order, all of that was pure rumors and hearsay. There was no telling how much of it could truly be believed. 'Big fish' stories had been spun about far less grand adventures than fighting against (or for) the First Order, after all.
But as quickly as that interest grew into a laser-light-show in her eyes, Lira tempered that youthful exuberance to something more like a subdued campfire. She had questions. She definitely had questions. But when Rey continues about Luke, being glad that Lira was following up on the journal, and then the mention of Bryett, her lavender cheeks darken, that dark purple crawling all the way up towards her ear cones.
"He... does seem capable," she rather fails at hiding her interest, opting instead to move back towards the topic of the old Jedi Grand Master. "What was he like? Mas -- Luke, I mean?" Flustered, she almost let the 'Master' slip right past her lips before she caught herself. "Did he keep a lot of journal like the one you gave me?"
"You've got a journal?" the young one from before asks. "Best not show Bennar. Ever since Syla vanished, he's not been fond of people poking around in old books, looking for treasure."
Inside, Bennar listens carefully as each of the explorers speaks, his brow furrowed in thought. When Qutha and Ben finish, Bennar leans back, his hands resting on the rough wooden surface of the table, fingers drumming lightly. His expression is thoughtful, his gaze moving between the three guests.
"Ruins, you say?" he murmurs, glancing briefly at Threnn, who gives a small nod. His gaze goes back to Ben for a moment, eyeing that scar. "I'm not sure who your uncle was, son, but there are ruins scattered all around these parts, from what we've seen. Some are just old camps, where tribes set up shelter at cave mouths. Others, maybe remnants of small villages like ours, from long ago. But I'll be honest with you, we don't wander far beyond our fields and the trading paths. We're farmers, not explorers. The ruins we know about are less than a day's walk from here. If it's those you're after, we'd be happy to show you."
He pauses, his eyes searching their faces for understanding. "The local tribes, though, they know more of the land and its secrets. They wander deeper into the forests, to places we don't go. We trade with them sometimes, but we don't go looking for trouble. We keep to our own, keep our heads down, and try to live peacefully." He nods towards Threnn. "If you're set on exploring, Threnn can take you to what we know. But I warn you, most of those places have been picked over. I doubt there's much of value left."
It's when the beast is mentioned that Bennar's demeanor shifts. His expression darkens, the lines on his face deepening as his jaw tightens. "I expect you'll all be gone before the beast need concern you," he says, his voice low, almost a growl. "It only comes out when either of the moons are full, Tsyk or Agrilat. It's taken enough of our people. That's why we built the taller wall, put up spikes, started locking the gates at night." He shakes his head, his gaze distant, as if recalling painful memories.
But it's the mention of the journal that brings the strongest reaction. Bennar's eyes widen, and he points a trembling finger at Bryett, his voice rising with anger and fear. "You keep that damned book away from here! If those are the ruins you're looking for, whatever they may be, there's nothing but evil in them." His voice cracks with emotion, and he slams his hand down on the table, making the oil lamps flicker. "My granddaughter got ahold of that book, was obsessed with it, said she'd figured out where some damn Temple was. She disappeared two years ago, but whatever she found, she unleashed on the whole damn village."
He looks to Qutha, his eyes haunted. "That beast you're talking about... it's what she set free. Wherever she found it, it killed her. It musta followed her trail back here, and now it comes for us, one by one. So if you think you're just here to take a stroll through some ruins, you'd best think again." He leans forward, his voice barely a whisper. "Because that book brought nothing but death and despair to us. And if you're not careful, it'll do the same to you."
A faint nod when Bennar begins to rant, lips drawn in a line. Listening to speech and things unspoken, the mystic's head cants from one side to the other. Frowning as he latches onto something there, mouth twisting some before he looks to Bryett, then Rey and Ben in turn. "I think I'll go on a walk. I don' 'spect much 'sides fear here."
Nodding to himself before he simply turns, hands moving from being folded before him to clasping behind his back. "I'll trus' more'n instinct than rage n'fear..."
Not waiting, simply moving to head for the door and make his way outside.
Ben sighs aloud, bringing his hand back up to massage along his forehead a moment. He couldn't stand being called son. However, he tried to look past this affront to listen to the rant and what information he could get. A darker notion crept up within, and Ben imagined reaching out with his hand and tearing out the information from Bennar's mind. However, the dark notion moved on and Ben simply rose when Qutha announced he was leaving.
"I appreciate your time with this," he said, the silence that followed weighed heavy until he finally said it, "but my colleague is correct. (Qutha.) I won't belabor the point on why we're here. Just show us where it is and we'll go. If there is a disturbance, much like you've experienced, it will be drawn to us and perhaps we can bring it to an end. That is our purpose after all; being Jedi we seek balance, peace, and harmony."
"Threnn is it? -- You got a map?" Ben waited for an answer with every intention of leaving then. If they didn't have a map? Well, they could draw upon the Force for an answer... maybe.
Rey could feel the negative emotions coming from Ben inside the hut. She saw Qutha exiting it too, and though she tried to offer a comforting sense through their connection in the Force to Ben... she knew he wasn't enjoying himself in there.
Lira's question drew her eyes back to the Twi'lek, though, and after a second or two, she showed her a faint smile, that broke down a bit as she considered her inquirey.
Rey's lips parted, as she trid to form the best words for an answer. "Luke... had been through so much, by the time I met him." She softly said. Her head shook side to side, as a few loose strands of dark hair fluttered about the smooth skin of her face. "He'd fought so many fights. He'd held the galaxy up on his shoulders for so long, and he'd done so much in the service of others, that I believe he'd never gotten a chance to enjoy life for himself. The burden of responsibility, is a weight not easily carried for the span of time that Luke Skywalker had to carry it. At first, I was disappointed in the man that I met, versus the legends that I'd been told. But, as more came to focus, I began to see why he was as he was, when I met him. I have seen similar things in my time since then. Losing so many friends... It's not easy. None of this has been easy." She had the volume of her voice break down to nearly just a whisper, that may not even carry that well to Lira's ears over the sound of the festivities happening around them.
Rey's eyes focused back on to Lira, though she did pay a moment's glance toward that meeting hall again first. "Luke was a hero, in a galaxy that needed it, but sadly he was forever challenged by people who hate heroes. A sentiment that I'm sorry to say, seems to have grown more prevelent even since his passing."
Of course they have already heard of the Beast. While it might be far from the only thing on the minds of the locals, it still gets mentioned in hushed tones. How could it not, when it has already wrought changes to the village? When it is the reason why the walls are so formidable around what otherwise appear to be a fairly peaceful if cautious people. Certainly they have proven to be welcoming enough of them, despite being strangers. Though their willingness to lend a hand may yet again be paying dividends.
The local ruins and the response that garners also draws a flickering look from BRyett, tossed towards Threnn. He has, afterall, alreadt shown several examples of those to Bryett -- at least any that were within easy reach of the hunting party's excursion earlier in the day. And while the archaeologist might have been fascinated enough with what little remained, with the clues to these people's distant ancestors, how they lived their life, the types of building they engaged in, the lives they led, Bennar is not wrong in that there was little of real, physical interest remaining behind to find. More it was a matter of cultural significance, of interest to an expert in history like Bryett. But certainly nothing that stood out as far as their search for the Temple goes.
Still, the days guide receives another small nod from the dusty-haired man -- both for that earlier indulgance of Bryett's own curiousity. As well as the warning in regards to mention of the book.
While it comes just a little too late to keep the village elder from going off on his rant, it at least prepares them for that reaction and Bryett remains calm in the face of that storm of emotion directed towards them. He's certainly glad that he didn't actually go rooting through that duffle, to pull out the actual journal if it is the source of such painful memories for their host.
And he can't help but note that, in this at least, a discrete word with Threnn later might serve them more good as far as getting anything useable, anything that might lead them in Bennar's granddaughter's footsteps then trying to push the man any further on the subject.
As the others ready themselves to depart -- perhaps coming to the same conclusion or simply being unwilling to linger around the obviously distraught man, Bryett too rises to his feet. Carefully he reaches out to touch the elder's shoulder. "I promise you that we did not come here looking to make trouble. We will be careful. Maybe we can even find a way to put right what was made wrong for you and your people," he says, not exactly making promises. He's made a lot of those over the past few years -- very few of which he had any intention of keeping. But those were to a different sort of men. And these people deserve better.
"We'll leave you to it," he says, dipping his head politely and backing away from the man.
Then he too shoots a look towards Threnn, letting Ben see if he can get the desired maps from the man while he looks to catch the younger man's eye, that silent entreaty to have words later. Out of earshot of Bennar perhaps.
One door might have closed on finding any trace of that lost page from the journal. That doesn't mean that every avenue of getting to the truth of it has likewise been sealed off.
Lira's gaze follows Rey's. She didn't have the same 'sense' for what was going on that Rey did. There wasn't any shouting or fighting -- at least, not that could carry over the sound of the festivities -- and so she had no idea what was going on inside that tiny meeting hall. Certainly nothing that was a direct threat to her. Or, at least, nothing she could sense that was.
She did spot Qutha emerging, though, and she moved like she might jump up out of pure instinct. But Rey was just starting to describe Luke, and though there's a flicker of worry across her features -- of desire to rush up and find out what was going on -- she also wanted to hear about Rey's thoughts on Luke. That, and she'd never be so disrespectful as to jump up and run off while Rey was answering a question she asked.
"I... can't imagine what he must have felt," the lavender girl says, a little furrow coming to her brow. And she couldn't. She wasn't a complete stranger to loss, but loss on that scale? She was only just beginning to realize that she couldn't just go gallivanting all over the galaxy, doing whatever she wanted, free of any consequences... no matter how much she wanted to. Not to mention that she buckled under Qutha's disappointment. She truly couldn't imagine facing the scrutiny of the entire galaxy, being held to that impossible standard.
"Do you... feel like people challenge you? Because they hate you?" Her eyes roll towards the darkened sky. "Aside from the obvious people, I mean..." The Sith. The wanted posters.
Even as Lira asks the question, her eyes shift back to Qutha from that table, and there's concern in them. There's still concern in them when she looks back to Rey, though, her thoughts and emotions torn between an engaging conversation with a Jedi Grand Master she never got to spend enough time with and her own Master facing their present dilemma.
Inside, Bennar frowns deeply, his brow furrowing at Qutha's reaction, confusion clouding his expression. He rises slowly from his seat, his hands braced on the edge of the table as he leans forward slightly. "If you go for a walk, you'll do it within these walls," he says, his voice firm but not unkind. "I told you before, those gates will not open until sunrise. I won't risk the lives of my people over your damn fool treasure hunting."
He turns to Ben, his gaze steady but tired, the weight of responsibility clear in his eyes. "Where what is, son? The beast? I told you, it don't come out until Tsyk or Agrilat are full. Three nights from now. If you want to see a disturbance, stick around and you'll damn sure see one then." He lets out a weary sigh, rubbing his temples as if the very thought of the beast brings him physical pain.
Threnn, seated beside him, nods at Ben's question. "We do," he affirms quietly, his eyes meeting Ben's with a serious look. "I can show you what we've got, but like Bennar said, most of the places we know about are just old camps and villages. Nothing like what you're describing." He glances briefly at Bryett, catching the archaeologist's silent signal, and gives a barely perceptible nod in return.
It's Bryett's words, though, that draw Bennar's attention back. The elder's jaw clenches, his gaze hardening as he listens. The silence stretches on, thick with unspoken tension, as Bennar wrestles with his emotions. Finally, he exhales a long, slow breath, the rigid set of his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He doesn't brush off Bryett's hand, though he doesn't quite welcome it either.
"You said that journal of yours is missing a page," Bennar says, his voice low and measured. "May be that when I was going through my granddaughter's things, I found one. I'd threatened to take the book away from her. She wouldn't get her nose out of it. Kept talking about running off. I guess before I took it away, she cut one out and hid it."
He pauses, his eyes locked onto Bryett's, searching for something -- hope, perhaps, or a promise that these strangers might succeed where he and his people had failed. "You put that beast right," he says, his voice rough with restrained emotion, "that page is yours. But I'll warn you now -- whatever my granddaughter found, it took her from us. And it might take you, too."
Bennar sinks back down onto his stool, his gaze distant, his face etched with worry and grief. "I've already lost too many good people to that thing. I won't let it take more."
He doesn't need gates. He doesn't need superstition or fear or the permission of people who immediately sink to fury when they dislike what they hear. There's no resentment, irritation or even agitation from Qutha when he emerges and simply begins walking towards the nearest of the village walls, looking up and addressing Ben as he goes.
"Reckon y'got the same idear as I does, tell you what..."
Mirth in his tone while he just walks, heedless of others that watch, his pace quickening as he starts to close the distance - the sense of sight he has been perpetually re-focusing to see in the night since sundown working to pick out the area around him as if it were day. A small nod made towards the edge of one building.
A tick of his head as though to indicate it before he takes off like a shot, moving in a blur to, quite literally, run up the vertical of a building's wall and leap into a tumble to carry him over the high walls of the village.
Intent on the Force being his guide here.
Ben takes a cleansing breath and chooses to ignore Bennar this time. It's Threnn that gets his immediate attention. "That's fine," he answered. "It'll be more than we have already, and we'll take it from there. I'll be back at my camp by the ship, feel free to drop off what you have. --" Ben left abruptly after that, stepping back into plain view of the others. His solemn look and slight scowl was probably all Rey needed to see in order to discern how things went.
Ben was not one for small talk, so he avoided who he could and quietly made his exit. Qutha's shared moment of solidarity was met with a knowing nod, but Ben didn't follow him. Qutha could look after himself, and Ben would be along eventually.. provided they actually needed to leave.
"Oh, I am sure that I am hated by more than just members of the Sith," Rey replied. "As it comes with the nature of acting in actively violent scenarios. I have never tried to harm anyone who I thought were not trying to harm me, or innocent others first. But... it's inevitable. It's unavoidable. I have enemies, beyond the Sith, enemies I don't even know exist. All I can do is try to do my best, as is the case for any of us..."
rey trails off, when she sees the others leaving, and sees Qutha moving off in his own direction. "We better check on them." She stated, as she rose up from her seat. She smiled to the villagers near to them, and excused herself, as she started to walk toward an intercept course for Ben, hoping to catch him before he left the village. She wouldn't even have to ask any questions, she'd know he'd just tell her the second she was within simple ear shot... But he was very long legged, so she had to shuffle a little faster than a simple gaited step! Dang tall people.
So, they have their answer then.
It doesn't seem like they'll have to go all that far afield to find the missing page to that journal afterall. Maybe it is an issue that a little respect, a little compassion can go further then one might expect. Maybe the man simply regrets his outburst. Maybe Bennar simply hops that these strangers can do what Bryett has suggested they might be able to and put things right for him and his. Either way, they are one step closer to getting that missing piece of the puzzle.
Unfortunately that still means that they will need to find a way to deal with this 'Beast'. That most definitely is not Bryett's particular area of expertise. He's more scholar then hunter. And the villagers seems to have quite a few capable hunters numbered amongst them. That doesn't seem to have server them particularly well.
Though Bryett has some cause to expect that Lira and her friends might prove to be a little more capable on that front.
No, what concerns him more then dealing with this Beast that has plagued the village is the timeline of it all. Three days, Bennar has said. Three days that they will have to wait, unless one of the others can find a way around that particular limitation. Three days will cut significant'ly into their buffer period, bring them perilously close to the eclipse that is supposed to be part of the key to this entire search.
Sure, it might still be possible. But they will definitely be cutting it close, that's for sure.
So Bryett has to temper that surge of excitement when the village elder conffesses to potentially having that missing page that could prove to be so critical to their search -- or maybe it is not, but regardless, it is part of probably the most significant historical relic the dusty--haired man has ever handled. He also has to likewise temper that impatience, that urge to demand that the page be turned over to them now, all for promises of aide to come. He has little doubt to believe that the others would fulfill that promise. But given his closeness to the situation, he rather doubts it would be enough to convince Bennar. And the alternative... no, he's not doing that sort of thing anymore.
So Bryett simply gives a little nod to the village elder, forces a grateful smile onto his expression and bows his head once more. "Thank you," he says quietly, simply. "We'll do what we can."
Probably less so Bryett then the others admittedly. But it's the thought that counts.
With one more polite if discrete nod for Threnn, the dusty-haired archaeologist follows the others back out into the Lothal night, the village lit up with those bonfires. And he lets out a long, slow breath, that war between hopeful optomism and impatience finally allowed to manifest on his face.
Three more days. They're so close. But it's going to be tight.
Under the light of those fires, Bryett seeks out the others, looking to join them once more.
"That I _can_ imagine," Lira sighs softly. She already had at least one death mark on her head that she was aware of. Granted, it was put there by a cartel, not the Sith, and neither of them yet knew she was a Jedi Padawan.
Dang tall people is right! By the time Rey is suggesting that they should leave the table to go check on the others, Qutha's already up and over the wall. The last thing Lira catches is a glimpse of a blur disappearing over the fence and into the night.
After Bennar and Threnn give their final nods to Ben and Bryett, the village elder and what would seem to be his most trusted second seem like they might be shifting to more quietly confer.
Lira, still standing at the table Rey had run off from to go talk to Ben, turns her gaze back to that building in time to spot Bryett coming out. And so, arms crossing across her stomach, she makes her way across the space towards him. The music is still playing in the background. The bonfire's still raging. But somehow, she doesn't even need the Force to feel the tension in the air... the way Qutha ran off into the night without a word to her, the way Ben simply turned to walk off in his own, separate direction, and then there's Bryett..
"Hey."
Her voice is small. Careful. Her eyes flick towards the building and back again as her lekku curl self-consciously up around her shoulders.
"Hooowww... did it go?"
She's trying to smile, but it's coming across as more of a grimace.
"Do we... have a plan? Is... Is Qutha running off in the dark part of the plan? Because... Qutha doesn't run off into the dark. He's _never_, in the almost two years I've known him, willingly run off into the dark. So... please tell me that him running off is part of the plan?"
That smile's a little smaller, suddenly.
Part of the plan?
Plan?
If he were an escaped pig killer on a train in some desert wasteland on a train, in a post apocalyptic chase surrounded by kids, one old dwarf and a crazy guy he'd ne declaring 'There ain' no plan!'
He was trusting in the force at this point and her personal, unstoppable, terror of the dark was not subject to being a deterrent to doing what needed to be done. Journals, pages, old men bent by rage and grief. These were not the guides of the Galaxy. Luminous beings were they and should it be the will of The Force for him to find where they must go, then Qutha would go there.
His tread steady, one foot after the other, throat dry and eyes wide before his mind and being sunk into the whorls and eddies that carried invisibly around him.
"I'm one wit' th' Force... n'The Force is wit' me."
He'd find what needed be found, or he wouldn't. It was up to the Galaxy to decide.
'There ain' no plan!'
At least, that seems to be the plan. Qutha has the Force and Ben has a map.
Meanwhile, Lira, Rey, and Bryett have three nights to kill before the next full moon, which is going to put them within two days of the eclipse. The next eclipse that fits with anything close to the pages they do have in Luke's journal?
Two years.
It's not exactly a lifetime or anything. But... it is two years, and the journal isn't exactly clear about what the eclipse is needed for at the Temple of the Eclipse. To find it? To open it? There's a part of some sort of sequence diagram on the pages that are still in the journal, but the part of that sequence is on the missing page, too.
Maybe.
That's the hope, anyway.
So, Lira spent the next days helping around the village and being worried about Qutha, who was still out in the forest. Mostly, while Rey seemed an adept gardener, Lira tended to help the children. She enjoyed spending time with them, teaching them gymnastics.. and even a few simple magic tricks. The latter didn't go over well with all of the adults, but the children themselves were smitten.
By the time dusk is falling on that third night, the tension in the village is palpable, though. The children that were too young to defend themselves were gathered into the central building, which was being guarded by the older children and some of the adults with farming tools. Other adults were armed with similar tools around the gates and the insides of the walls.
Most were scared. Some were praying.
And the reason why becomes obvious once dark settles over the village in earnest. Under the silvery glow of the twin moons, one of them shining in its full brightness, there's an unnatural, bestial growl that echoes through the forest.
It sounds like a wildcat and a bear mixed together. And it's getting closer.
Rey had spent the three days making her way between the ship, and the village. She'd pitched in where she could, helping with farming, and anything else that seemed viably within her varied skillset. She did not let on to anyone about the Force, or any indication that she could wield such a power, as she just wanted to appear as a normal person, like anyone else. She advised the others to do the very same too.
The tension in the air was sensed, though, and Rey had started to ask questions, up to when things got obviously, and openly, aggressive toward an unknown element.
Rey was outside, as it so happened, when the utterance of a animal growld was heard. She was on her way back from one of the farming fields, when she heard it in the distance. She had her satchel on in a cross-body fashion, and a set of light clothing. Her lightsaber was clipped beneath her satchel, up against a hip, as she started to jog toward the village at a higher rate of speed, with the sense of a foreboding threat on the horizon.
Three days.
It isn't easy to be patient for three days but that's where they are. For his part Bryett also tries to split his time as much as possible, to find distractions where he can. And in fairness the village has more then a few.
He goes out with the hunters again, checks out some of those other ruins that are scattered about nearby, such as they are. There isn't much left admittedly, but they're still interesting to him, and the archaeologist manages to come back with a few samples.
He also spends time with the children of the village, telling stories of distant planets, tales of heroes and villains drawn from that extensive knowledge of history. His association with Lira seems to put him in good stead, making him one of those that the children seem to like a trust.
He even pitches in with the farming some, showing at lest a passable hands in the fields and with the livestock, memories that seem to come from a lifetime ago, before he left his homeworld. Before he found himself on a much different path.
The evenings with the bonfires, with the simple, hearty food and the dancing are a little more enjoyable. Though they seem to last forever in their own way.
And of course there is the time spent with the widowed Farah who was kind enough to donate her dead husband's armor to the cause, a gift from her to Lira and then onto Bryett. Something that he is rather grateful when that third evening finally arrives.
It has a different feel, that much is certain. The growing anxiety among the people of the village. No festive singing or dancing around the bonfires this night. Instead the vulnerable are gathered up, huddled together at the center of the village as those more capable of taking care of themselves stand sentinel against the threats of the encroaching night.
And Bryett stands with them. He made a promise afterall, even if the others are more likely to be of use.
Still, he listens with some alarm as that sudden, bestial growl echoes through the night, tensing a little as he peers out into the darkness.
That howl is enough to send a grown Gamorrean running the other direction, and yet Rey is running towards it from one of the fields. They all knew this was coming. Lira was helping with the last checks inside the village, oddly enough staying near Bryett as the tension ticked higher and higher and higher.. until that sound echoed in the night and Lira's lavender hand reached for the arm of his new armor.
"You don't have to come out with us," she tells him softly. "You can stay in here. This decision is yours to make."
But there was little time to decide. The elder knew that they were going to go face the beast, and so he had Threnn stationed near the gate at the ready.
"Last chance!" he yelled, having his men hoist the barrier on the gate so that it would open enough for a person to slip through.
Lira gives Bryett one last, significant look. "Whichever you decide, may the Force be with you."
But the Twi'lek wasn't waiting any longer. She turns towards the gate and runs, slipping through the opening that's offered. Threnn and his men check one last time to see if Bryett's going out and staying in, and then they close the gate after his decision, barring it from the inside.
Outside, the only sound is the whisper of the wind through the trees and the faint, nervous murmurs of the villagers inside the walls. Even the crickets have fallen silent, their song snuffed out by the oppressive weight of anticipation that hangs in the air.
And then, cutting through the quiet like a blade, a low, rumbling growl reverberates from the depths of the forest.
It begins as a deep, almost inaudible rumble, more felt than heard, but it quickly grows into a menacing roar that sets every hair on end. It's a sound that seems to vibrate through the very ground beneath their feet.
"It's coming," someone whispers from inside the wall, their voice barely more than a breath.
The growl intensifies, reverberating through the still night air, and then it falls silent. The villagers hold their collective breath, the silence stretching out, taut as a bowstring. For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of their own ragged breathing and the rapid thumping of hearts.
And then, with a sudden, bone-chilling howl, the Shadowbeast bursts from the treeline.
It's a monstrous sight, hulking and grotesque, moving with a terrible grace despite its size. Standing nearly eight feet tall on its hind legs, its body is covered in dark, matted fur that seems to shimmer unnaturally in the moonlight, as though it were made of shadows given form. Its limbs are long and sinewy, muscles rippling beneath the fur, ending in sharp, wicked claws that dig into the earth as it prowls forward.
But it's the face that is the most unsettling. The elongated muzzle filled with razor-sharp teeth, the eyes -- burning with a feral, yellow light that betrays a spark of intelligence buried deep within the madness.
It was funny how things like this worked. The one night Rey was further out from the village, than any of the previous nights, was the night this beast came to attack. How many of them even were there? Rey wasn't sure yet. She could sense life through the Force, but the problem was that there was life teeming all across this planet, let alone this region. She felt the villagers, most prominently, and through them she felt the building Fear, like it were a blood on one's tongue.
Rey was full on hoofing it at this point, rushing up a grassy hill, and nimbly leaping over a water path that wove out toward the farmlands.
It was right as she completed the hop, that in the darkness, her hand went beneath her satchel, and it was mere seconds after the beast appeared in the far distance that Rey's right hand (her natural hand) activated a golden beam of energy, that hissed to life, and lit up the space around her like a miniature beam pulled straight from the core of Lothal's sun!
The golden beam waved in the darkness, as Rey ran at full tilt toward the village, its raw power growling nearly as fiercely as the animal itself!
Yeah, that howl is doing nothing to fill Bryett with any measure of reassurance that this is a good idea at all.
Certainly when he first began his studies in earnest, when he left his homeworld for the sector capital, when he began to truly understand that history was more then a collection of stories, he somewhat ceased to expect anything like this.
This is the kind of thing out of the stories he loved so dearly as a child. What drew him to this particular field of study, sure, but whose wild imaginings he put aside as those same studies took a more serious, more practical bent.
And yet, the first time he makes a find of true historical significance -- okay yes, it was in the locker onboard a freighter, but there's no denying the historical significance of one of Luke Skywalker's journals -- and where does he find himself? Facing the choice of staying behind the questionable safety of village wallls, or venturing out into the dark night beside a pretty young twi'lek woman who has already saved his life once and her companion.
But the choice is his.
Except that there really isn't a choice. Not in his eyes, not really. The widowed Farah gave up her husband's armor, in the hopes that it could serve the village one more time. While this might not be his quest per se, he is past invested now. Invested in finding this temple, in helping this village, and in his oh so unlikely travelling companion. So when Lira mentions that choice, he doesn't hesitate.
He follows her out through that gate before it closes behind him.
At least he has a little more going for him then just that armor. He has his own bodyguard assigned to him in Zee. That's something. And the head's up display of his helmet cuts through the dark somewhat, at least letting him see what is approaching them.
Though in someways he would rather he didn't.
Even as the others start forward, even as a sudden light seems to break the darkness up ahead, that golden glow lighting up the night like a beacon, Bryett only edges forward, the security droid near his side. "Lets... not get in their way," he suggests.
The Shadowbeast's eyes, glowing a feral yellow, narrow as Rey's golden blade ignites the night, casting a halo of light across the clearing. The beast's muscles tense, its hulking form seeming to grow larger, more menacing, as it steps into the open, its gaze locked onto the Jedi rushing towards it. For a moment, the village falls silent, save for the crackling of torches and the heavy, rasping breaths of the creature as it eyes its new adversary.
There's a palpable shift in the air, a ripple through the Force that all the Jedi can feel. It's a sensation like a storm brewing on the horizon -- a cold, dark presence that wraps around them, tugging at the edges of their senses. The Shadowbeast is no mere predator, no simple animal bent on destruction. It's more. Much more.
It pauses, and those glowing eyes bore into Rey, then to Lira, and finally Bryett, who lingers cautiously at the edge of the field. As it shifts its gaze, the Force trembles, sending a chill down their spines. There is power here, a deep well of darkness that twists and coils around the creature, tainting the air with a malevolent energy. It's almost suffocating, the Dark Side pulsing with every heartbeat of the beast.
But underneath that dark presence, there's something else -- a flicker, a whisper of something desperate and afraid. A faint cry, like a voice long lost in a storm, reaching out for help, for release. It's buried deep, almost smothered by the shadowy tendrils of the Dark Side, but it's there, struggling to break free.
The Shadowbeast's head tilts slightly as if listening, the yellow light in its eyes flaring brighter, more intense. And then, with a guttural snarl, it drops to all fours, muscles coiling as it prowls forward. It moves with a dreadful grace, each step deliberate, almost calculated, as if assessing the threat before it. Suddenly, the beast's head snaps up, and it lets out a piercing roar that shakes the very ground beneath their feet. The sound is almost unbearable, a primal cry of rage and pain that reverberates through the village, sending shudders through those who hear it.
It lunges forward, but not towards Rey. Instead, it bounds towards the gate, its eyes locking onto Bryett in his thick armor. Beside him, the much more diminutive threat of Lira'una, lacking any armor or even any weapon, didn't even seem to register. And yet, as the beast charged, Lira didn't move from Byrett's side.
Instead, she dropped to her knees and closed her eyes, reaching out with one hand right in the creature's path, as if the figure of a small, lavender Twi'lek woman with an outstretched hand might somehow stop this tank of a creature barreling towards them...
And miraculously, the beast skids to a halt, its claws gouging deep furrows into the earth, and it snarls, baring its teeth in a display of pure menace. The Dark Side pulses, the air vibrating with its intensity as the creature hesitates, torn between its animalistic fury and something deeper, more deliberate.
The strain, though, of maintaining that connection was already twisting Lira's features in pure effort, and the beast was obviously fighting it, twisting its head from side to side as the small whisper of a sensation deep inside it screamed through the Force in agony.
Rey ran down the beaten pathway toward the mouth of the village's main entrance. She could see the four legged foe making for the interior of the village too, and could feel the fear of the citizens within it, flowing from the place like an unbound river of negative emotion.
Rey came to a sliding stop outside of the gates, her eyes on the beast, before they shot past him toward Lira and Bryett. "Is anyone hurt?" Rey called out, immediate question needing to be asked, before her stern gaze went back to the creature itself. She could feel Lira was trying to manipulate its mind, and it was a damn good idea. Attacking it with her growling saber would just raise more questions than it being on right now probably would.
As such, Rey raised her silvery mechanical hand up, and through it, she delved in to her connection to the mystical energy field that surrounds them all.
She was attempting to send peace in to the mind of the animal, before anything else could go afoul.
While Bryett might not feel what the other two do radiating from that creature, he doesn't need to. Not to feel the threat coming from it.
That much is palpable in every sound that comes from it, in the terribly grace in which it moves, so sudden and swift, seemingly geared perfectly to violence. Suddenly it isn't hard to understand just how a village, even one like this, even one with so many hunters there to protect and defend it, might feel helpless before such a creature.
But it is more then even that. More then how swift and fierce it moves. How terrifying it's cry might be. The low-light display of that helmet Bryett wears pierces the night around them and lets him see the beast's features -- though once again, he's not sure if that is really the small mercy that it might seem on the surface. Because it also lets him see a cunning that seems to go beyond mere beastial there. To something more. Something greater.
In it's way that is the most terrifying part of it altogether.
Try as he might, the glare from those burning yellow eyes seems to run right through him and the dusty-haired man freezes in place, unable or unwilling to shuffle forward any further. He watches as those eyes seem to flicker between the trio of figures that have taken the field in front of the village, assessing with something more then animal intellect.
And as if it can sense where the weak link is, it suddenly starts bounding towards him.
Bryett starts to stumble for the vibroknife at his belt before giving up that idea. Even if he could manage it free it, really, what would he do? Against that thing? "Zee..." he says, the pitch of his words rising a little at the end of that simple statement, not able to quite keep those twinges of fear out of his words.
But he stands his ground.
Then Lira is there. Not with her antiquated weapon this time like she produced in that Nar Shaddaan alley when she saved his life. Just with her presence. She's there beside him, stiffening his resolve. He's not sure what she does, but impossibly as that beast lunges towards them he just... skids to a stop in front of the twi'lek woman's upraised hand.
For a moment Bryett's eyes dart back and forth between the pair, almost in disbelief -- that seems to be something of a reoccurring trend that comes from hanging out with her it would seem. He can see the menace on the creatures beastial features. He can see the strain on Lira's. And all he can do is crouch down in front of her, puting his armored form between her and the creature.
Then Rey is there too, extending her hand towards the creature as well. And while Bryett would like to say that he watched, the simple truth is he screws his eyes shut, not wanting to see the beasts claws or teeth sink into him if whatever the two women are doing fails. He just keeps himself between Lira and the same.
And waits for the inevitable.
The Shadowbeast's head snaps from side to side, a guttural snarl rumbling deep in its chest as it struggles against the invisible force holding it back. The ground beneath its massive claws is torn and shredded, earth flying up as it scrabbles for purchase, trying to move forward but held firm by Lira's outstretched hand and the strength of her will.
Every breath from the beast is a heavy, rattling growl, its eyes blazing with feral intensity, the yellow glow flickering like a fire caught in a storm. It's as if the creature is caught in a terrible tug-of-war, one side pulling it forward with a relentless hunger, the other anchoring it, forcing it to stop and listen.
Through the Force, dark energy radiates from it, an oppressive weight that presses down on them, filling the air with a sense of dread. It's like the darkness itself is alive, coiling and writhing around the Shadowbeast, trying to pull it back into its grasp. But there, beneath that swirling tide of malice, is something else. That faint, flickering light of a soul in torment, crying out for release.
With every ounce of her strength, Lira reaches out, her own essence entwining with the beast's through the Force, a connection that trembles with the effort of holding back the storm. The agony she senses is raw, overwhelming, and the sheer force of it nearly breaks her concentration. But she holds on, her hand trembling, sweat beading on her brow as she fights to maintain that fragile link.
The Shadowbeast roars again, its voice a mix of fury and despair, its massive frame trembling as if trying to shake off the hold of an unseen chain. Its gaze flickers to Lira, confusion and rage warring in its eyes. For a moment, its snarl softens, a low, pitiful whine escaping its throat as if something deep inside it recognizes her presence, recognizes the effort she's making to reach out, to help.
But then the dark energy surges again, crashing over the beast like a tidal wave. It snarls and rears back, claws tearing at the earth as it fights against the influence of Lira's power. The force of its struggle is almost too much, the connection slipping through her grasp like sand through fingers. The dark presence within the creature roils and churns, lashing out with wild, reckless fury, a beast in pain lashing out at anything that dares come close.
Lira cries out, a mixture of pain feeding back through the connection and raw exertion. She can't hold it. She has no idea what will happen when that connection breaks...
But then Rey is there, and just as her own connection to the beast falters entirely, the Jedi Grand Master is holding it in place, instead. Instead of a Padawan merely holding it at bay, however, Rey's grip on that Dark Side beast is significantly more powerful. It's easy for her to feel what's happening -- the Dark energy that's possessing, transforming another creature.
A woman. A woman screaming in agony through the Force even as that beast fights uselessly against Rey's control.
"Master... I... I think it's Syla," Lira pants, still on her knees, still trying to recover from that exertion. "I don't understand... what has her, but I could _feel_ the beast feeding off of her. Can you... can you separate them?"
She takes in a deep breath, then, and finally pushes herself back to her feet.
"Bryett... if Master Rey can free Syla... get her safe..."
Of course, Lira didn't exactly know how she was going to help with this, but she could try to help hold on to the creature physically... to help control the Forces energies to the best of her ability... to separate this woman from whatever Dark Side Beast has her...
It doesn't take a lot for Rey to begin to grow more confident in this situation. She's been through similar things, though there is an air of uniqueness to this, to be sure. Animals were a common threat in this galaxy, and the Jedi Order has faced some serious whoppers in their boundless exploration of it all.
With her robotic hand extended, and her growling lightsaber held off to the right, Rey stalks up behind the beast. Her control is helping to keep it at-bay, but her mind digs inside the creature's own. She searches for the connection between it, and Syla, the micro-muscles of Rey's face twitching as she connects to the thoughts inside the strange, and oh so foreign, consciousness.
She can feel Syla's presence, though, and through it, Rey tries to tear it from the claws of the proverbial creature's mental snare upon her.
Rey's saber raises up, going vertical toward the dark sky above, before she flexes her metal fingers outward, and pulls them to the side. She severs the connection, as best as she can, and through it she feels a rush of blood to her mind, a wave of light headedness, and a sudden hiss of a sharp breath. She had worked up a bit of a perspiration, but through it, she waited for the sudden disconnect, and the aftermath it would have within the wild animal.
He waits for the inevitable.
But it doesn't come. There are no talons to shread his armor into tatters. There's no teeth to tear into flesh. The roar of the beast, the palpable heat of it's breath doesn't come any closer then it was and while Bryett keeps his eyes tightly screwed shut for a moment longer, that innate curiousity wins out before too long.
Really, even now, in this moment isn't knowing better then not?
While the unnatural creature might rear and strain, it does not seem to be able to break free, at least not with the attention of both women on it now. And while Rey might be carrying the lion's share of the effort right at the moment, it is Lira that has seemingly bought them the time that they needed.
But it is what comes next, what she says next that comes as the real surprise. That the beast and Syla are somehow... joined. That it is somehow feeding off of her. And that the possibility exists that they might somehow be separated? Yeah, all of this is definitely a little out of his wheelhouse.
However, if there is one thing that the past few days has taught the dusty-haired archaeologist it is to invest a lot of trust in Lira. If she says it, there's a good chance it's true. If she thinks that Rey can somehow seperate the two, well then, that is what he is going to expect to happen.
And if the best way he can help is to stand ready to hurry the trapped woman away from... whatever this creature truly is, then that is what he will do too.
So he slowly rises back to his feet, recovers from that idea of the noble sacrifice to safeguard her body with his own. He remains hunched over though, both so he doesn't block her field of vision and so he can dash forward when the moment is right, gaze flickering beneath that helmet, darting back and forth between the trapped beast and Rey who approaches with the glowing golden blade drawn, held out in front of her.
He tenses, watching, telling himself what's going to happen though there is a small, nagging part of his mind that *maybe* still expects the Shadowbeast to simply be cut in twain.
But when that lightsaver strikes home, it does indeed seem to almost split the two, the essence of shadow that seems to be wrapped around the heart of the creature almost peeled away, to reveal the battered, bruised and dirty form of a young woman beneath.
There might still be a little terror playing in the back of his mind, a voice screaming at him that he's crazy to do this, but Bryett ignores it. He darts forward, reaching for the woman with the haunted eyes and follow cheeks, not bothering with nicities as he darts in and simply hefts her over his shoulder, staggerin for a step or two as he tries to adjust to the sudden increase of weight -- though her body is too light for her size really -- and begins to dart just as quick as he can towards the waiting gates of the village.
He has no idea if they will let him in -- let them in -- but this is the one thing he's been asked to do. Get this woman -- get Syla to safety. And damn it, that's what he's going to do.
The Shadowbeast, no longer tethered to a host, lets out a guttural roar as Rey severs the connection. The dark energy, once tightly bound to the physical form of Syla, begins to unravel, an oily mass of shadows writhing and wriggling like a living thing as it's ripped away from the woman's body. The creature itself seems to shudder, its monstrous form contorting and shrinking, the fur and claws dissolving into the night air like mist burning away under the heat of a sunbeam.
Syla, freed from the grip of the dark entity, collapses forward, her body limp and weak. Her skin is pale, almost ghostly in the moonlight, covered in dirt and scrapes, evidence of her long struggle in the wild. She gasps, her breaths ragged and shallow, eyes fluttering as if she's struggling to stay conscious. It's clear that she's alive, but only just.
As soon as Bryett sees her falling, he's there, darting forward and catching her just before she hits the ground. The moment he touches her, she feels as fragile as a leaf in his arms, her body light and frail. Her eyes, dazed and confused, flicker open for a moment. A whisper of a voice escapes her cracked lips, barely more than a breath. "Please... stop... it..."
And then she's out, her body going completely slack in his arms.
Her head lolls when he hoists her up, hanging limply as he adjusts his grip, and then he's moving, his feet pounding against the earth as he makes for the gates.
Behind him, the amorphous mass of dark energy left behind by the Shadowbeast writhes violently, thrashing against the confines of the bubble of Force energy Rey and Lira have created. It's a swirling vortex of shadow, pulsing and undulating like a living, breathing entity. Even without a physical form, the darkness seems almost sentient, its malevolent presence pressing against the boundaries of the Force bubble, probing for weakness, desperate to break free.
It roils and churns, the edges of the containment field sparking with power as it fights to escape, to find another host, to continue its insidious quest. Every so often, a clawed tendril of shadow lashes out, only to be repelled, but the beast doesn't stop. It can't. Its movements are frantic, almost panicked, as if it knows its time is running out.
Inside the gates, there's a flurry of activity. Villagers peer out from behind the barricades, their faces a mix of fear and hope as they see Bryett approaching with Syla's unconscious form. The air is thick with tension, every eye fixed on the scene unfolding outside.
"It's Syla!" someone cries out, their voice cracking with emotion. "He has Syla!"
Another voice chimes in, frantic and urgent. "Open the gate, you fool!"
"But what about the beast?!"
"I don't see it!"
"Then open the gate!"
With a loud creak, the wooden barrier begins to lift, the gate groaning as it swings open just enough for Bryett to slip through, the villagers surging forward to help as soon as he's inside, their hands reaching out to take Syla from him, to cradle her battered form with a mix of relief and disbelief.
The gate slams shut behind him, the heavy thud echoing through the night as the villagers scramble to secure it once more, eyes darting to the forest beyond, to the swirling mass of darkness still contained by the Force.
When Syla was passed on to her people, Rey lowered her gleaming saber beam back to point it toward the ground, casting a glowing light upon the side of her form. Her mechanical hand was held up yet still, and as she peered at the embodiement of some dark malevolence, Rey felt a wash of its anger and hatred come through her.
The Sith were not capable of being Force ghosts. It was not a power they had. But they did have a gnack for leaving behind evil footprints of their dark souls, and she had to assume this was something akin to that. Lothal's history would breed such strange incidents, afterall.
"Lira." Rey spoke, her voice strained, as she still had a sheen of sweat visible on her brow. "Release it." She told her.
"We're going to follow it, and see where it goes." Rey told her, as she suddenly broke her connection, and dropped her left arm down to her side, while her right angled her saber beam upward, perfectly horizontal now, extended out to her right side, while her eyes were locked on that patch of swirling dark hatred.
