Disclaimer: I do not own star wars or any of its character and while plot points are from various RPG games I take no credit for their origins only of their application in the story therein. This a labor of love and not for profit though if Disney or Lucas Arts would like to hire my creative brain I'd be more than happy to drop everything and come running. Please read and leave a review.
Episode 1: Mandalorian Outcast
Chapter Two: First Steps
Planet Kalevala: Mandalorian Space:
The next morning Jarek was up early. After donning his clothing and taking care of any other necessities he wandered outside of their simple dwelling. It was a two-bedroom structure with a high steeple roof to help shed the winter's snow. The walls were surrounded by an earth berm which helped insulate the interior. Encompassing the yard and house was a sturdy palisade meant to dissuade any curious scavangers. Those that weren't smart enough to take the hint were introduced to Myler's long rifle and found themselves contributing to the larder.
Their home was situated above the valley floor. It's location putting them out of the migratory paths of the herds of Striders, Broadheads, Chargers, and their accompanying predators. Despite its isolation, their home offered a stunning view of the sunrise. It spread out across the length of the valley bathing the forests and plains in a sheet of golden light.
While Myler worked inside to prepare for the coming day, Jarek set about completing his chores in record time. First, he fetched water from the well and fed their small flock of Kunna, a squat half meter tall, two-legged critter, which provided most of their protein. Next, he checked the hydroponics garden making sure the machinery was still running and maintaining their vegetable and fruit-bearing plants. The plants weren't ready to be picked but he always made sure. Jarek had learned early that a balanced diet was the difference between growing strong and growing weak.
Once he was finished he sat and waited patiently, or as patiently as a seven cycle old could; tapping his foot eagerly and wondering what lesson Myler would teach him. Would it be combat or survival? He also wondered about his armor. About how he would craft it one day, and how it would look. Most Mandalorians decorated and camouflaged their armor based on their personality, lineage, or chosen profession. Myler being a hunter preferred a practical design. In the few instances, Jarek had glimpsed the clan warriors, mostly from afar. He had seen many variants in colors and designs. Very literally no two Mandalorians were alike.
At that point Myler exited the house, interrupting his thoughts. He was in full armor, helmet clipped to his belt, rifle slung across his back, pistol holstered on his hip. In addition to his normal gear, he carried a wrapped bundle under one arm. Jarek stood, barely keeping his excitement in check.
"We're headed down into the valley. Follow," he ordered and headed for the palisade's only gate. Jarek followed close behind. They traveled for several minutes. The sun had fully cleared the horizon before they stopped in a small clearing.
Myler unrolled the bundle revealing a small blaster carbine. Jarek recognized it as the one Myler had taught him how to shoot with. The other two objects were new to him. One was a foot long sword with one curved blade and a short diamond shaped cross guard. The other was a palm length knife with a similarly diamond shaped doubled edged blade.
"Take your rifle," Myler stated and Jarek obliged, making sure the barrel was pointed in a safe direction while simultaneously checking the weapon was loaded with a full charge. It was. Then he looked back at the edged weapons and noticed Myler carried similar types on his own person.
Myler gripped the short sword in his free hand. "This is called a Beskad." He hefted and twisted it giving Jarek a good look at the blade, hilt, and pommel. "In the old days, this was a warrior's primary weapon. They had to get in close to take care of their foe. Now many don't use them, and keep them more as decoration." He gave his son a hard look. "This is not a decoration, nor is it a toy." Jarek nodded in understanding. "This blade is a hunter's tool in the bush. Clearing trees and taking down prey." He gave it a quick swipe and took a sizable chunk from the end of a wooden log.
Jarek gulped at the lethality but maintained his bearing.
Sliding the weapon into a scabbard he helped sling it across Jarek's back. Next, he held up the small knife. "This is a kal. A fighting knife." He flipped it end over end in his hand in an elaborate show of dexterity and skill that surprised and impressed the young boy. "It is your tool in all things. Preparing game, bush craft, to settling disputes with the neighbors." Myler started to hand it to him but pulled it back at the last second. At Jarek's confused expression he asked, "What is this first and foremost?"
"A tool, not a toy," Jarek answered and Myler handed him the sheathed blade which Jarek promptly attached to his belt. He gave his son a very serious look and made sure his tone emphasized the seriousness of his words. "The wilds can be a dangerous place. More so the further you get from civilized areas."
"I know," Jarek agreed knowing full well the dangers.
"You're still scratched up and sore from that fall yesterday, yes?" Myler asked and Jarek nodded reluctantly. "Let's start the lesson there." He indicated a plant with a brown stem, heart-shaped leaves, and deep red berries. "That is called salve brush, it alleviates pain and fever when eaten and soothes sore muscles when applied to the skin." He pointed up toward the sky. "Beyond our world, many sentients use the modern Bacta Patches, or Kolto to heal wounds. These are common but there will be times when you won't have those luxuries." He gestured to the plant once more.
Jarek, already familiar with the plant plucked the berries. The first batch he crushed into an oily pulp before rubbing the paste on his arm and thigh where it still hurt from his tumble. Next, he took a few berries and ate them. They were bitter with a dry aftertaste but he swallowed them regardless.
"It may taste bad but plants like those and alien variants could save your life." Jarek nodded trying not to grimace at the taste. He took the water canister Myler offered. One swig was enough to clear his palette. "Wherever you go you should learn what is useful and what isn't; plants, beasts, or otherwise."
Without another word, Myler turned and walked into the brush placing his helmet on his head. Jarek followed close behind. The trek took them further and further from their home and down into the valley proper, but not toward the main settlement of Kart'a'Buir. This was an area Jarek wasn't familiar with.
"Where are we father?" he asked softly conscious of the distant sounds of wildlife.
"This part of the valley is known as the Embrace," he answered just as quietly, "The Orion Clan hunt here and allow few others. The Outcasts are the rare exception by order of the Clan Chief."
This puzzled Jarek, who only ever experianced scorn from the clansmen. "Why?" he asked curiously, "If we are Dar'Manda why let us hunt their land?"
"Because we help keep the more dangerous beasts away from the village," Myler replied without emotion, "The Chief also believed it dishonorable to allow Outcast children to be deprived of food."
This further confused Jarek. This act of concern for his, as well as other Outcast children's wellbeing, was a direct contradiction to the Mandalorian belief that only the strong survived. Then that thought also contradicted the idea that family, clan, and children were the most important things a Mandalorian could have.
Do not deal in absolutes...his mind whispered to him.
"Further downriver we'll find a herd of striders," Myler's words broke his reverie and he had to hurry to catch up as the larger man trotted down a trail. "I will teach you how to hunt them."
A surge of excitement shot through Jarek, along with a bit of apprehension. "Are they dangerous?" he couldn't help but ask. Jarek had always been too young for Myler to take him on a hunt. Now he had his chance to learn.
"All beasts can be dangerous," Myler answered gravely, and Jarek thought he was also applying the statement to people as well. "You must learn to anticipate this," he went on, "and respect their power." He looked down at him, "But I will be beside you." Though he couldn't see his gaze Jarek felt its reassurance.
After a bit more hiking Myler suddenly held up a hand and they both came to a stop. Jarek listened but heard and saw nothing.
"Drop," Myler hissed and pulled Jarek down to a crouch. "Stay quiet," he ordered in a very low tone, "and follow me to the tall grass." Without looking back at him, Myler slipped into a patch of tall red stalks. Jarek followed right after making sure to keep his father within eyesight. After a moment, Myler pointed ahead of them on the trail. "There you see?"
Several yards away, Jarek spotted four gray skinned reptilian creatures trotting on four clawed feet. A series of quills sprouted out of the skin in a main starting at the base of their skull and ending at their shoulders. Deep red eyes sat above long bird-like snouts. Within the maw were two rows of very sharp looking teeth. Despite their obviously predatory aspect the creatures were barely five feet in length and their shoulder was just a bit taller than Jarek.
"It's a little one," Jarek stated, but immediately regretted it. Myler's earlier words about respecting all beast's power and their potential to become violent rang in his skull.
"Those are kroot hounds," Myler stated flatly giving him a chastising glare, "They're fast and deadly in a pack. A skilled hunter could kill them, but a smart hunter doesn't take the risk." He held his son's gaze a moment longer driving the lesson home. "We'll have to sneak around them," he said with a brief gesture, "Follow."
For several long minutes that felt like hours, they crept through the grass, making sure to keep as much distance between them and the nearest hound. Several times a Hound would raise its head and sniff the air causing them to stop. Myler would rest a hand on the handle of his pistol, but then the beast would lower its head and continue down the path.
Once Myler was sure they were far enough out of sound and scent range, they broke from cover and continued on their way. Jarek released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Myler took a brief moment to show him some moss that they could wipe on their clothes to help conceal their scent. He admitted to washing their clothes in it regularly.
The path wound steadily down into the valley well north of the settlement. They were nearing a stream crossing when Jarek noticed movement in the distance. Looking carefully he spotted a figure running and jumping along a narrow cliff face. Even from far away it was easy to see he wore armor like his father and yet the weight didn't seem to hamper him. He stepped from rocky outcropping to rocky outcropping with such ease and dexterity that he appeared to defy gravity.
Jarek pointed at the figure. "Look, father, a hunter."
Myler stopped and looked around. Jarek heard him grumble something that sounded like di'kutla, a really stupid fool. He turned and began walking again. "Ignore him, boy. If he wants to risk his neck that's his own foolishness."
About that time the young hunter stopped. Clinging precariously to a ledge he looked directly at them. To Jarek's surprise, the young Mandalorian hung by a single hand and waved before carrying on his course.
Excited, Jarek pointed this out. "Buir, he waved at us!"
Myler paused to look back just in time to see the hunter disappear over the ledge into the foliage. "I said ignore him, Jarek," he stated before trudging on, "He is of the Clan. He would do well to ignore us."
Jarek caught up with him. "Maybe he doesn't like the Clan?" he suggested. The idea that there might be those within the clan who would have anything to do with Outcasts filled him with an unexpected hope. Thinking back to the young girl in the berry patch, gave the feeling merit.
Myler growled, deep in his thoughts before saying, "Then he is a fool." Though his tone was low there was no mistaking the hard edge to his words.
Not for the first time, Jarek wondered why his father had been exiled from the clan. For all intents and purposes, he carried himself like the ideal Mandalorian. Jarek could be biased but of the various Outcasts he'd met over the years, some were angry bordering on savage, while others were depressing and just struggling to make do. Very few still adhered to the Resol'Nar, the Six Actions; Wearing beskar'gam, Speak Mando'a, defending oneself and family, raising one's children as Mandalorians, Contributing to the clan's welfare, and when called upon to rally to Mand'alor's call.
Hardly any Outcasts even still wore their armor.
Myler had always been a skilled hunter and a powerful warrior, and he'd always carried himself with dignity and pride despite his status as an Outcast. He'd raised Jarek as best a single parent could, teaching him what it meant to be Mandalorian even if he'd never be a part of the clan. He'd made vindications about his willingness to assist the clan where he could, and if the call to arms ever arrived he'd jump at the chance.
There were rare occasions, like now, when his emotions would slip through and tortured soul within would appear. Here was a man who defined himself by his culture and yet he was forced to live apart from it. It angered him that anyone would ever be so foolish to willingly separate themselves from Clan and family.
Myler had made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that his only desire outside of taking care of Jarek was to see his son one day join the clan and be a part of a larger family. For Jarek, it would be the first time he'd be accepted by anyone other than Myler and other Outcasts. After receiving the scorn from the mother he wasn't sure if he would ever accept them. Much less be accepted.
As they approached the stream crossing, Jarek was almost shocked to see a herd of striders milling about grazing and drinking. Like the hounds, they were reptilian quadrupeds with grey skin, beak-like snouts, red eyes, and quills down the neck to the shoulders. These were taller and broader with thick legs. Even at a glance, Jarek found it all too easy to respect their power.
Just then Myler stood tall, swung his Beskad in the air and yelled, "HAH! Get!" The dozen or so striders looked up in alarm before turning and galloping off. A pair of them seemed to lag behind, one with a slight hitch in its step. Soon they were all out of sight.
Confused Jarek nudged his father's hip to get his attention. "Why'd you scare them off?"
Myler looked down at him and shrugged, "To show you that many herd beasts can be easily startled. Plus I wasn't expecting to come across them so soon. It's always better to hunt your prey with stealth." Jarek nodded seeing his point but still couldn't help but feel annoyed. He was eager to hunt.
Sensing his anxiousness, Myler knelt down to his level and pointed after the herd. "Tell me ad'ika, did you notice anything about the herd. Anything that stood out?"
Jarek thought and recalled the last two striders he'd seen trailing the herd. "Yes one of them had been injured and was slow to catch up to the rest. And another wouldn't leave it behind."
Myler nodded, "Good. Well done." Jarek beamed with pride as Myler continued, "Predators will often pick off the injured or sickly members of a herd. This helps the herd to stay strong and weed out the weak. But like Chargers, and Broadheads a Strider's mate will always stay by its side till its death. They are a stubborn lot." He stood and they trotted after the herd. "A trait to be admired I think," he added in an undertone.
Their pursuit took them further and further north until the valley opened up revealing stretches of grasslands interspersed with clumps of trees. Streams and rivers cut through the green sheet like blue ribbons. The herd of striders milled nearby. To Jarek's astonishment, he also saw herds of broadheads, grazers, chargers and many more species. He was sure packs of hounds were about but they were clever to keep to the shadows. Jarek even spied a trio of Tallnecks in the distance. Large flat snouts turned this way and that keeping an eye out for sustenance and predators. One of the largest plant eaters, there was only one other creature who actively hunted them.
The Greater Knarloc. Jarek had only ever heard stories about them. Large bipedal carnivores with massive jaws and long thick tails, but no forelimbs to speak of. Only the most skilled and craziest hunters ever pursued them.
Myler came to a halt and knelt in the tall grass several yards from the nearest strider. Jarek followed suit. They both unslung their rifles and slowly approached their prey. They crept up on its blind side just behinds its left shoulder. Only a few yards aware, Myler held up a hand and signaled for him to wait, he did. The older warrior slung his rifle and drew his beskad. The older man inched closer and closer to the Strider. As he drew near, Jarek noticed that it was the wounded one from earlier. Just like other predators did they were fulfilling their role by culling the weak from the herd.
Just mere feet away, Myler sprung forward and stabbed in a single ergonomic motion. The point of the blade went up under the left foreleg straight into the body cavity of the strider. The Strider only had time to make a shuddering groan, its heart and lungs punctured, before sinking to the ground.
Before Jarek could process what had taken place, Myler ripped the blade free, stood atop his kill and bellowed. It was a deep resonating roar, that Jarek felt in his soul. It was the primal sound of a predator claiming its kill.
The strider's mate stamped its feet nearby and tossed its head angrily. Myler stood his ground, hand on the grip of his pistol. The mate spun in agitated circles before running off to rejoin the rest of the retreating herd. A pack of hounds also took notice but followed the herd rather than attack.
Myler stepped down from atop his kill, his chest heaving as he came down from his adrenaline high. He gestured and Jarek approached, eye's wide in wonder. Myler cleaned the blood from the beskad and sheathed it. "A hunter must always claim his kill, lest others try and take advantage. He must also strike hard and fast and make the kill clean. No beast or man should be made to suffer." He stared down at Jarek, his words steady and firm. "That is what separates us; Hunters from savages."
Once Jarek nodded in understanding, they set about processing the game. Myler had thought to bring a large knapsack and after skinning the beast he set about carving strips and chunks of the strider's dense muscle using his kal. He walked Jarek through the whole process from checking to make sure the meat wasn't diseased, to properly carving it, and removing harmful organs like the digestive and waste systems. In less than an hour, the knapsack was full and the carcass thoroughly butchered.
"The scavengers and the land will appreciate the offering," Myler stated as he cleaned the kal and sheathed it. He slung the sack over his shoulders, "Come let us-"
"Help!"
The cry stopped them both cold. They listened for a moment before hearing it again carried on the wind.
"Help me!"
"Someone's in trouble!" Jarek exclaimed his heart hammering in his chest.
"Follow!" Myler ordered and took off in the direction of the scream, Jarek right on his heels. Despite the extra one hundred pounds of raw meat on his shoulders, Myler moved with incredible speed. It was all Jarek could do to keep up.
"Help! Please!" the voice cried out again. It was close. They had retraced the trail back up into the Embrace before splitting off the main route. They ended up crouching on a ridge that overlooked a wide gully. Across the gully clinging to the rock face several hundred feet above the ground was the young hunter they'd seen earlier.
"Di'kut'la," Myler mumbled but his head twisted from side to side looking for a way to lend him aid. Unfortunately, they weren't alone. Loitering about the gully below was another herd of striders, smaller than the one before. They were accompanied by a pack of Kroot Hounds, possibly the same ones they'd avoided earlier. The striders were oblivious to the hunter's cries, but the hounds seemed to be drawn to it. They cast about the edges of the gully unsure as to its origin.
The Hunter also seemed to realize what his calls had done and focused more on hanging on for dear life. Reaching above his head he attempted to lever himself up over the ledge but the rock gave way causing him to swing by his one remaining hand. Just as his finger curled around a handhold.
Jarek was about to ask his father what they should do, but before could say anything the hunter's grip failed. Jarek watched helplessly as the hunter bounced and tumbled down the rock face in a way that reminded him of his own painful plummet. Each time the hunter struck a rock it slowed his decent before he hit the ground below. His scream and the sound of him impacting the ground below was audible enough to carry all the way across the gully to their position. It also alerted the herd of striders and the pack of Hounds. The small predators growled and began stalking through the tall grass, unsure where the crash had come from but knowing it was close. This encroachment by the small predators caused the striders to stamp nervously, but not quite enough to stampede.
Jarek could barely make out the young hunter amongst the roots of a fallen tree. He seemed winded and hurt but still alive.
"Buir, he's still breathing. We have to help." Jarek pleaded in a low tone aware that any loud sound could easily attract the pack of hounds.
Myler shushed him, pulling him back down below the ridge. "No, ad'ika," at Jarek's confused look he went on to explain. "There's not enough cover. If I go down there, I will be seen. The hounds will attack and the herd will panic and trample us." He glanced back and sighed angrily at the situation. "Soon the hounds will find him and tear him apart. If I shoot into them the herd will still panic and stampede, killing him." The older hunter clenched his fists and Jarek could sense his anger at knowing he had to do something yet unable to do so. He was just too large of a target.
The boy was of the clan, and Myler had just told him that even as Outcasts they still had a duty to their people.
Jarek knew what he had to do.
Before Myler could look back around, Jarek scurried to the edge of the cliff. He heard his father hiss in surprise and felt his fingers grasp at him. Jarek leaped feeling the blaster carbine slip off his shoulder into Myler's grip before landing soundlessly in a patch of long grass. He knew his father was spitting mad and could visualize him unslinging his rifle and preparing to jump down after him.
Jarek signaled back up to him to stay and then held a finger to his lips. Remarkably Myler did as he bade him. Checking to make sure the hounds were unaware of him, Jarek slowly crept through the long grass. The green stalks would never have fully concealed the larger warrior, but for a small child, they were the perfect cover.
If Jarek could remember any of Myler's colorful swear words he'd surely be using them right now. Of all the stupid things he'd done in his short life, this was certainly the worst.
Jarek wasn't sure why he was sticking his neck out for the foolish young man. He was of the clan and would've probably ignored him out of spite at any other time. Ancestors, he didn't even know the boy's name. However, some part of him told him...no demanded...that he needed to help. To guard and protect the helpless.
Hopefully, Myler would understand his irrational mindset because he sure as osik didn't.
Having only to stop a couple of times to avoid running into a curious hound, Jarek eventually made his way to the side of the injured hunter. He was attempting to crawl to the shelter of the tree without attracting attention, but his left leg wasn't working properly. His right arm also hung limply at his side. At the rate he was going the hounds would find him in a matter of minutes.
Acting on instinct with Myler's lessons echoing in his mind, Jarek palmed a small rock and hurled it to the far side of the gully. It clattered off another larger rock attracting the attention of the hounds and sending the striders into a nervous frenzy; stamping their feet, tossing their heads and snorting loudly. They didn't like a pack of predators being so close and even less at all the strange noises echoing about their gully.
Jarek moved forward and gripped the boy under his left arm, startling him. Jarek shushed him with a gesture before dragging him towards the fallen tree. The boy was nearly twice Jarek's height but lean. The beskar'gam, having taken the brunt of the fall no doubt saving the boy's life, added a significant amount of weight slowing their progress. Jarek was small, but a lifetime of hard living had made his tiny frame strong. He heaved with all his might and with the hunter's assistance managed to nestle beneath the trunk of the fallen tree.
That was the moment Myler had been waiting for. Standing from his hiding spot the older Mandalorian shouted at the top of his lungs and began firing his blaster into the herd of Striders, intentionally missing and impacting the earth.
That was the last straw for the already nervous herbivores. Fear gripped them and as one they turned and charged toward the open end of the gulley. Unfortunately for the Kroot hounds, they were between them and the exit.
The first hound fell beneath the feet of the herd. The only sounds were a small squeal and the crunch of bones. The rest of the pack wailed in terror and bolted, an angry herd of prey hot on their heels.
Jarek and the hunter huddled in the hollow beneath the trunk until the sounds of rolling thunder faded. Slowly Jarek crawled out and checked to see if the coast was clear. All he saw was his father hurrying down towards him, carbine slung across his shoulder. He couldn't see his face, but braced himself for the tongue lashing he knew was coming.
It didn't.
Myler merely took a deep breath and placed a hand on his shoulder...and nodded. In the world of his father that one gesture was about as good as being held aloft on his shoulders to cheers and adoration.
Just as quickly the moment past. Myler moved to help the boy out from under the tree. Even as the boy grunted, groaned, and swore every time his leg and arm were jostled, Myler remained silent. He laid the boy down and set to work checking his injuries.
"What hurts?" he asked simply.
The boy grunted in pain once before answering, "Right shoulder. Left thigh." Jarek looked on as Myler checked first the leg and moved up to the shoulder, prodding gently here and there. Jarek now saw a perfect example of learning field medicine. Noticing him, the young hunter looked up at Jarek. "Thank you little one," he murmured in a pained tone, "Ancestors bless your courage. Just as I hope they curse my idiocy."
Myler grumbled, and Jarek knew he was thinking something along the lines of, as well they should.
Out loud he said, "Leg's fine, just a bone bruise." Myler suddenly yanked down on the boy's arm causing him to hiss in a breath and then sigh as Jarek heard a click and pop. "Arm was dislocated," he stated as he placed it across the boy's chest and secured it with a length of rope in a temporary sling.
The hunter was breathing heavy but appeared to be grateful despite the slew of swear words he uttered under his breath. Helping him to his feet, Myler guided the boy to sit on the top of the fallen tree that had been their refuge only mere moment before. In a move that surprised Myler, the young man clasped his forearm and said, "Bless you warrior. You raised your son well."
Before either of them could reply a voice rang out from the open end of the gully.
"Tebb! Tebb! Where are you?"
Waving his good arm the boy responded, "Tekka! Over here!"
Moments later two men and a woman, all in full armor and armed, jogged up. The tallest of the three wore white armor with blue accents on a brown vest; the leader. He stepped ahead. Tebb, the young injured hunter stood and limped towards him.
"Tekka," he gestured towards Myler who had moved in front of Jarek, "I fell. They saved me."
Much to Jarek's surprise, the larger man smacked him on the back of the head. In his injured state, Tebb nearly fell to the ground, but somehow managed to keep his balance.
"Seal your lips, chakaar!" snapped the large man, anger evident in his voice. "You're lucky we're kin else I'd have left you to the hounds!"
"Leave him alone!"
The shout startled the group who all looked in Jarek's direction. He had stepped from behind Myler and was standing, fists clenched, ready to defend the injured youth. The white armored warrior, Tekka, growled menacingly but turned back towards the young man.
"I fell, Tekka," Tebb tried to explain, "hurt my arm and leg. The boy pulled me to safety. He" pointed the Myler, "drove off the hounds and set my shoulder. They saved me."
"I said shut it," Tekka yelled looking as if he was going to raise his hand to the boy again, but restrained himself. "Bad enough you needed to be rescued, but to allow these...outcasts to help you!?" He spat the word 'outcast' as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Jarek was reminded uncomfortably of the mother from the day before. Tekka continued, "The stench of this will linger for sure!"
"But, they saved my life!" Tebb bravely attempted to explain again even as the two other warriors moved to help him stand. He pointed directly at Jarek, "He saved my life!"
"They are Dar'Manda!" He shouted turning on the pair. Myler pulled Jarek behind him while simultaneously placing a hand on the handle of his pistol. Tekka didn't seem to care as he ranted, jabbing a finger at Jarek, "And he is a motherless cur!"
Myler's pistol was out and leveled at the man faster than anyone could blink. No one moved. No one spoke. The one warrior who wasn't supporting Tebb had his weapon in hand but hadn't raised it. She seemed unsure if the action would cause Tekka to have his face redecorated.
For his part, the larger Mandalorian didn't flinch or show any sign of being afraid. He merely stared directly at Myler, one emotionless visor into another. Myler said nothing, but his stance and posture spoke volumes. Never...insult...my son. The blaster barreled inches from Tekka's forehead seemed to emphasize that point.
In a show of good sense, Tekka gestured to his companions and together they took a few steps back before turning and walking away. Tebb, still being supported by the male warrior, glanced back and started to speak but was cut off by Tekka smacking his head once more.
Myler waited a half moment longer till they were out of sight before holstering his weapon and stepping away from Jarek. "He shouldn't have spoken to us," he stated softly still looking after the group, "He broke clan law."
His tone had an edge of disappointment; either at the boy's mistake or how the situation had devolved, Jarek couldn't tell. He was too distracted. Jarek had put his life on the line to save that boy. He did his duty to the clan, and what was his reward?
To be called 'A motherless curr!'
Scorned by a mother and now cursed by a warrior. And for what? What was his crime that deserved such animosity?
"We should not linger here," Myler said softly. "Let us return home."
Jarek needed no other encouragement. He wanted to be as far from the gully, from the valley, and from the clan as he could. He wanted the day to be over.
"I know the way!" he yelled out more harshly then he intended. Picking up his carbine he set off back towards their home. Myler followed close behind. He seemed to sense his son's growing frustration and so kept his distance to give him time to vent.
Jarek did indeed know the way home. Especially once he found the trail. He'd hiked the area many times, memorizing the key landmarks that could help direct him back to the dwelling. Even distracted, his feet moved of their own accord leading him back without conscious thought.
Along the way, he fumed over the situation with the boy Tebb. He'd been grateful for their help, not once caring whether they were Dar'Manda or not. And for his caring heart, the other Warrior, Tekka, had hit him. If that was the cost of being a member of the clan; to be punished if one didn't properly scorn Outcasts, then he wanted nothing to do with the Clan.
Unfortunately, Jarek anger blinded him to the world around him. He hadn't noticed he'd outpaced his father, or that the trail had led him close to the settlement.
One moment Jarek was lost in thought, the next a sharp pain erupted above his left eye. Staggering back a step, he hissed in pain. Lifting a hand he felt his head and winced. His finger came away bloody. Looking down passed his hand he noticed the small rock dotted with red settling on the ground near his feet.
Someone had thrown a rock at him!
Confused, in pain, and very angry, Jarek cast his gaze about spotting four children from the village. They stood atop a hill just off the path. He recognized the tousled blond hair of the one called Gaegen easily enough. He was clutching another rock in his hand and was grinning with sadistic glee.
"Go away, Dar'Manda!" he yelled and threw the second stone. Jarek saw the rock arch up and down spinning end over end as if in slow motion. It was easy to calculate its speed and decent. With reflexes that surprised Gaegan, the other kids, and especially himself, he caught the rock.
The impact shot up his hand and arm, but his anger dissipated it. Jarek glared up at the blond boy. The emotions of the hunt and the day previous welled up all at once, seeking some form of justification for his pain.
Gaegen glared back picked up another rock and prepared to launch it. Jarek acted without thinking. Winding up, he took a step and let his projectile loose. The stone streaked across the opening and nailed his target.
The rock that Gaegen had been about to throw, shot out of his hand as Jarek's struck it in a puff of dust, narrowly missing his fingers. The boy looked at his now empty hand with no small amount of shock. The other kids also looked on in wide-eyed wonder, glancing between their leader and the Outcast boy unsure of what to do.
Gaegen seemed to shake off his surprise long enough to grab another rock. He was preparing to throw, but a dark-skinned girl stepped forward out of nowhere and slapped it out of his hand. It was the same one from the berry patch.
"That's enough, Gaegen," Jilo declared matching his look of outrage with a cold glare of her own. "Don't be mean!" She held his gaze just long enough for him to be cowed. Turning he fled back towards the settlement. The rest of the kids followed swiftly behind, eager to get out of range. The girl was the last to leave, she looked down at Jarek and seemed to offer an apologetic smile before waving and heading home herself.
Now alone, and coming down from the excitement, Jarek started to really feel the stinging and throbbing on his head. He hissed and moaned as he presses his hand to the wound just as Myler arrived.
"Jarek?" If he had seen the event that had just transpired he gave no indication. He knelt down and looked at him, noting the blood, "You're hurt." he reached into his utility belt and pulled out some Salvebrush wrapped in a bit of cloth. Pushing away his son's hand he began dabbing at the wound.
"Why?" Jarek asked, but Myler shushed him gently as he worked. Jarek looked directly at him, ignoring the intimidating visor. "Why am I an Outcast?"
Myler paused in mid-application of the salve. "Ad'ika...this is not the time."
"Who was my mother?"
"Jarek, I've told you before I don't know who your birth mother is? You were just a newborn when the Clan Chief brought you to me."
"So the Chief," Jarek stated eyes wide, "Chief Teersa? She knows?"
Myler looked like he wanted to take back the words, but couldn't. He stood and began to walk away. "It's not so simple," he stated.
Jarek wasn't having it and quickly stepped in his path. "But she knows?" he asked. He'd rarely asked about his birth mother because up until that point it hadn't mattered. Now he felt a sudden urged to learn and discover the truth.
"Jarek...we are, Dar'Manda," Myler sighed trying to step around his son and continue heading home, "Even if she wanted to, we cannot speak to her."
Once more Jarek intercepted him. "How do I make her tell me?"
"The Chief?" Myler sighed in exasperation, "...there is a way, perhaps-"
"So tell me!" he pleaded.
"It…would be dangerous-"
"How?"
"It would take years of training."
"I don't care," Jarek grabbed Myler's hand and stared up at him, "How do I do it! Tell me!"
Myler sighed and removed his helmet and stared down at him with silvery blue eyes. His deep voice echoed the seriousness of the matter. "If you want to be able to speak to the chief you must be of the clan, there is only one way for you to do that."
"What way?" Jarek demanded.
"The Verd'goten," he stated. Myler knelt down and looked directly into Jarek's eyes and explained, "The clan's rite of passage, held every year. Those that pass become members of the clan. It is open to all including children of the Outcasts. To the victor's though, the Chief grants a boon."
"A boon?" he questioned.
"Yes...whatever the winner wants. But," Myler held up a cautionary finger, "That privilege comes with a cost, Jarek."
Jarek was too excited to care about the cost. Here was a chance-a sliver of hope-that he might get the answers he so desperately sought. He stepped back away from Myler. "I'll do it," he declared standing tall and squaring his shoulders. "Whatever it takes. I'll win the Verd'goten."
Myler looked at him with a mixture of pride, exasperation, and a hint of frustration, but he sighed in resignation and stood. "I see...we best get started then. Your training will be hard and it will take years. But in the end one way or another," he placed a hand on Jarek's tiny shoulder, "You will be a warrior of the clan."
"Start training?" Jarek's boundless childlike energy spilled over, "Yes! Follow!" and he took off at a sprint towards home.
