A/N: A minor note: I'm absolutely keeping the terminology of "telekinesis" within the story. In Legends continuity, they absolutely referred, in-universe, to telekinesis as an overarching school of techniques that encompassed the physical manipulation of matter through the Force. This includes techniques like Force Push, Pull, Lift, Grip, telekinetic lightsaber combat - whether as a simple Saber Throw or by more advanced TK dueling ala Darth Traya - and even the infamous Force Choke and Force Crush, though those can also be considered a variation of Grip applied specifically to do physical harm.
My copy of "I, Jedi" was lost a long time ago, but I distinctly recall Corran Horn, a student (and future Master) of Luke's New Jedi Order explaining how his family line had what was effectively a disability for telekinesis, but an unusually strong gift for manipulating energy, and Corran himself was individually talented with illusions.
I may not have the book available to cite specific pages, but I did fire up KoToR 2 recently, and it also explicitly refers to the in-game early warnings provided by the Force as "Precognition," another term associated with psychics and the like.
So between that, and my unwillingness to deliberately hamper my vocabulary, I'm going to continue to refer to the Force and the abilities in the manner to which I've become accustomed over the last twenty-five years.
Okay, to the story!
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It was a clear, beautiful night at the Jedi Temple on Tython. The sky was littered with diamonds, stars beyond counting twinkling in their celestial array. For the Tython hemisphere that the Jedi Temple called home, it was the season where the Arrenae Nebula was visible, a palette of blue-white and indigo stellar gas. Furthermore, Tython's moon was in its Ashla phase, bathing the little campsite in silvery light.
Three teens sat together, warmed by a crackling campfire, enjoying the night and the quiet companionship with one another. Ruby had a Bandomeer sweet puff skewered on a stick, which she held over the fire to give the confection a crispy crust. Jaune and Weiss sat on the log next to her. He was idly strumming a stringed instrument that he'd brought with him from his homeworld of Dantooine, while Weiss sat with her back leaning against his side, her legs stretched onto the rest of the log. She hummed along with his simple song while gazing up into the stars, and the crash of ocean waves against the cliffs made for a natural percussion for their little medley.
Weiss and Jaune had come to the Jedi Temple five years previously, when he was fourteen and she was thirteen. Ruby remembered how the proper Echani girl and the laid-back human from the largely agricultural world of Dantooine had butted heads; she had been raised to look for hidden meanings and ulterior motives in everyone she met, while he was an open book. The two had clashed, and bickered, and then, at some point, they'd just clicked together.
With her treat properly toasted to magnificent perfection, Ruby pulled the sweet puff off of the skewer and popped it into her mouth. Munching on the gooey goodness, the youngest teen shook her head at her companions, wondering when they were going to get a clue.
Oh well. If it was meant to be, then the Force would bop him over the head. Ruby supposed that she'd do her part to stop being a third wheel.
She swallowed down her sweet puff, then stood, stretching. "Well, I'm gonna go back and check on Master Calavera," she said.
Jaune paused his strumming. "Sure. You need anything, let us know," said.
"I will," the girl chirped, even as she shot a sly grin at her friends. "You two have fun, now!" Ruby couldn't resist adding, with a sing-song tone.
"Huh," Jaune muttered as Ruby left. "What do you think she meant by that?"
"I'm sure it's nothing," Weiss said, just a beat too quickly. She felt her cheeks burning, flushed with blood. The Echani girl wasn't too sure about all of Master Glynda's advice - she certainly had no intention of asking him to…to do anything like that to her this evening - but she certainly recognized the need for her to settle her emotions.
Closing her eyes, she opened herself up to the Force. The first thing she felt was the warm, familiar presence of the big lug she was leaning against. Her Echani upbringing had raised her to seek the truth hidden behind layers of obfuscation, to discern what truths a being was hiding from the galaxy at large. She had been surprised to discover that the human farmboy from Dantooine had no ulterior motives. In fact, Weiss had disbelieved such a thing to be possible, assuming that he simply had to be a masterful manipulator, hiding some form of truly despicable secret from them all.
But no. It turned out that Jaune really was just…Jaune. He was the warmth of the crackling campfire, as relaxing and peaceful as basking in the sun on soft summer grass.
Somewhat reluctantly, she looked past him, deeper, into the Force as a whole, immersing itself in the grand current of life. She was the grass growing underneath them, the insects burrowing in their log. She was the pulsing of the tides, and when she felt one of the fish in the sea be gobbled up and devoured by another, bigger fish, she was one with the death and renewal of life in the natural order. She was the planet Tython itself, the celestial body alive on a scale beyond her merely mortal scale, the mantle its blood, the skies above its breath.
There was no fear. No insecurity, nor anxiety, merely, only, the Force. Cradled in its embrace, Weiss rested her head against Jaune's shoulder, in complete peace and comfort, and fell asleep.
Jaune's idle strumming petered out as he heard Weiss begin to snore softly on his shoulder. A slight shrug confirmed that the petite Echani girl was out like a light. Glancing at his chrono, Jaune supposed that it was getting rather late. Setting down the strum-box he'd been playing, he reached out with his hand towards the campfire.
Jedi, as individual sapients, had their own particular talents, areas in the Force where they were more naturally gifted than others. Jaune was particularly gifted in tutaminis, the ability to absorb and redirect energy using the Force.
Jaune's family owned and operated a ranch on the grasslands of Dantooine, where he and his many sisters had learned nerfherding - the literal herding of nerfs, a large, grazing herbivore cultivated for its meat and hide - from a young age. It was likely that many, possibly all, of Jaune's siblings were Force Sensitive to some degree, but the gift had never manifested as strongly in his sisters as it had in him. There were many times, when out camping on the range after a long day of herding nerfs on their swoop bikes, when Jaune would extinguish a campfire by an intuitive grasp of the flows and currents of energy.
Just as he had in his youth, Jaune drew the energy of the fire into him, draining the heat and chemical energies into himself, draining the fire until it extinguished. He then converted that energy into telekinetic energy, lifting the sand around the firepit and dumping it onto the woodpile, just to make extra-sure that they didn't accidentally start a raging grassfire from their evening excursion.
He smiled as he recalled the time when he'd first demonstrated his talent with energy absorption to Weiss. It was their first duel with low-powered training sabers, and he had deliberately let one of her strikes land on his upper arms. She had crowed in victory, but then he had used tutaminis to completely drain the energy from the diatium power cell in the training lightsaber, before converting that energy to telekinetically lift the Echani girl off the ground, to hover impotently as he'd slowly spun her in a circle.
Master Qrow had noted that, had it been a real saber, Jaune would have lost the arm, or at least had it seriously wounded at best, but the maneuver would have worked. The look of sheer, indignant outrage on Weiss's face as she slowly spun in the air was one of Jaune's favorite memories, and it never failed to bring a smile to his lips.
He shouldered his strum-box and retrieved Ruby's skewer - she'd left it behind again - before picking up Weiss in his arms. The Echani girl was as light as a feather, and he began making his way back to the Jedi Temple while carrying her. One of her small fists unconsciously clenched around the front of his shirt - he'd left his armor behind for the outing - and she nuzzled into his chest in her sleep.
Jaune understood that, to be a Jedi, one had to follow the Will of the Force, and sometimes, that meant leaving others behind. Qrow had to leave Ruby at the temple, and Ruby had to accept that. Jaune had known some of the younger Jedi Knights - Yatsuhashi, Velvet, Fox, and Coco - while they were still in training, but when their time came, they followed the Force out into the galaxy.
To be a Jedi was to be prepared to follow the Force, to whatever end. But all the same, if the Force, in its infinite Force-titude, could see fit to have his path and hers run together for just a bit longer, Jaune Arc sure would appreciate it.
[/]
"So, tell me about these jetii you're so keen on. How did you even meet them?"
Pyrrha leaned back on one of the stupidly-comfortable couches in the main crew lounge aboard Yang's Sunstrider, her helmet by her side and her hands behind her head as she watched Nora and Yang duel it out in dejarik. The other girls sat at a table fitted with a holoprojector, the table's surface festooned with small, holographic figures of dangerous creatures from across the galaxy. The Senator and the Princess contemplated their next moves in the holographic board game, even as Nora hummed, considering the Mandalorian's question.
"Well, a couple years back, I was making ends meet in Coronet City. You know how it is," she said, with a meaningful look towards Pyrrha. Many sapients across the galaxy had been driven to engage in unsavory activities by economic distress. Needs must, and all that. "Anyways, I ran into a pair of Jedi who were investigating a serial killer in the city. That sleemo's deal was getting his kicks offing girls and young women, but these two Jedi were both men. They were at a cantina, arguing over which one was going to have to dress up like a girl, when I kinda barged in and volunteered to be bait."
"Really?" Pyrrha asked, quirking a brow. "Why'd you do that?"
A wicked little smirk crossed Nora's lips. "Well, partially to do my part for the Republic in bringing him to justice, yada-yada, but mostly because the younger one had just the cutest little butt."
Yang snorted in amusement. "Now we're talkin'!"
"Ah, memories," sighed Nora, pantomiming squeezing with both of her hands in the air. She shook her head. "So, we hunt that guy down, and the Jedi stun him and bring him in. Problem was, the sick barve was in good with a crime syndicate, and the boss of that syndicate had dirt on the mayor, the governor, and even one of the Senators."
"How'd a low-rent scuzzer get that kinda pull?" Pyrrha asked, confused.
Nora made a face. "Yeah, turns out some people paid big creds for holos of the guy's…hobbies."
The cabin went quiet for a few moments as the other two women digested the Corellian's words. "So, the Jedi bringing in the guy, alive, with evidence, caused a huge kriffing mess," Nora continued telling her story. "The Jedi aren't part of the Republic, or the League either, but they have a lot of unofficial pull. While the politicians were scrambling to manage the fallout, and CorSec - Corellian Security - argued with the older Jedi over jurisdiction, I figured I'd just go and actually do something about it. I nabbed Ren, the younger Jedi with the great butt, and we just went over to the mansion where the head of the syndicate lived. I sliced the systems to get the evidence, he thrashed a few people who tried to stop me, and a few thermal detonators later, there wasn't a syndicate headquarters any more."
Pyrrha shook her head. "I'm beginning to spot a pattern with you, Valkyrie."
"So what happened next?" asked Yang.
Nora's expression turned incredibly smug. "Well, I felt like celebrating, so I broke into the ship that Ren's mentor had, and we had a bit of a 'joyride,' if you catch my drift."
"Is this an interstellar booty call?"
"Well, Ren's boss was awfully annoyed, but I'm sure he's forgotten all about it by now," said Nora, ignoring Yang. "Before they left, Ren took me by the hand and said that…well, he said that the Jedi can do an awful lot, but if anything is ever going to get better, it'll be because of people like me taking action to make it better." Nora gazed down at her hands, and Pyrrha swore she saw the beginning of a blush on the otherwise shameless Corellian woman's cheeks. "I kinda took his words to heart."
"Huh." Pyrrha reached down to grab a bottle of wine that'd been chilling in a bucket by her feet. Popping out the cork and taking a swig of the vintage straight from the bottle, she swallowed heavily. "So, big-shot Senator. What's that gig like?"
Nora pulled a face. "You know what most esteemed Senators of the Galactic Republic spend most of their time doing?"
"Lying to the public?" offered the Mandalorian.
The Corellian shook her head. "Nope. Fundraising."
"Fundraising?" Yang looked puzzled.
"Fundraising," confirmed Nora.
"Fundraising," Pyrrha echoed, in a complete deadpan.
"Fundraising." Nora stood and swiped the wine bottle out of Pyrrha's hand. The Mandalorian let it go, figuring that anyone who claimed that their occupation's main focus was spent fundraising needed the booze more than she did. "Scheduling and attending fundraising events for our own re-election campaigns. Attending fundraisers for members of a political bloc, to signal solidarity. Meeting with lobbyists, who make demands for legislative action or inaction, incentivized with campaign contributions that are basically legal bribes. I've been the junior Senator for Corellia for over a standard cycle, and I haven't done anything!" Nora gesticulated in her frustration, waving the bottle of wine in the air around her. "So yeah, I jumped at the chance to investigate the missing beast traffickers, because something was gonna get blown up soon."
As Nora took a second deep pull from the wine bottle, a loud chirping sound came from the cockpit.
"Oop, we're coming out of hyperspace," Yang announced, springing up and trotting into the cockpit. Nora gave a longing look to the alcohol as she reluctantly set the bottle back into the ice bucket. Pyrrha clapped her on the shoulder as they followed their Hapan host into the Sunstrider's cockpit. The blonde woman was seated at the controls, her companions arriving just in time to see the tube of streaking, striating blue-white starlight dissipate into the void of the endless night of space. Centered in the view from the ship's transparisteel canopy, the planet Tython idly carried on its slow rotation, a thoroughly uninteresting blue-and-green marble.
"Contact orbital control," ordered Nora. "Ask for permission to dock at the Jedi Temple. Pulling rank should get us in."
"Roger-roger!" said Yang, with a cheery salute. "Tython Orbital Control, this is Sunstrider, requesting docking permission for the Jedi Temple."
"Sunstrider, this is Tython Orbital Control," a voice came over the ship's comms system. "We're reading you as a vessel registered with the Hapan Royal Family. There is no itinerary announcing a delegation from the Consortium arriving at this time."
"Oh, right." Yang sat up straighter, the lazy good cheer falling away to reveal an expression of stony dignity. "Tython Orbital Control, Sunstrider is the personal vessel of Chume'da Yang Xiao Long, heiress of the Hapes Consortium. We are escorting Senator Nora Valkyrie, junior Senator of the Republic's Corellian System, with information deemed vital to the Jedi Order. Repeating request for docking permission for the Jedi Temple."
The comms fell silent, and Yang resumed her typical light aspect, shooting Pyrrha a grin. "Kinda wish we could see them all running around, trying to figure out what to do," she said.
"Think they'll buy it?" asked the Mandalorian woman.
"There's nothing to buy. We actually are who we claim we are. Weird, isn't it, being above board for once?"
Pyrrha's reply was cut off when the comms chimed again. "Sunstrider, this is Orbital Control. You are being directed to the Jedi Temple's hangar. Be advised that you will be meeting with a representative from the Jedi on arrival. Orbital Control, out."
"Thanks, Orbital."
Following the coordinates beamed to the ship, Yang brought her sleek star yacht in towards the Jedi Temple. It was nice enough, Pyrrha supposed, a stone ziggurat with a semicircle of buildings surrounding a grassy courtyard in front. One of those buildings was clearly the hangar, and the Hapan Princess brought the Sunstrider into what Pyrrha would begrudgingly admit to being a silky-smooth landing.
"Thank you for flying Hapan Royal Spacelines," Yang drawled. "Please return your tray to an upright position, and exit the starship in an orderly manner."
Nora shook her head. "Well, Your Majesty, Pyrrha, if you'd care to accompany me, I'll see about getting you that bonus I promised, just as soon as my business with the Jedi is concluded."
"Hey, on a scale of one to laser swords, with laser swords being the angriest, how angry do you think they'll be that you shot one's legs off?" asked Yang.
Pyrrha just put her helmet on, taking her place a step behind Nora as her bodyguard.
The jetii meeting them at the docking bay didn't seem all that threatening. Or threatening at all, if Pyrrha was honest with herself. He was an elderly, white haired human, dressed in simple gray and green cloth robes and leaning on a cane. The party came to a halt in front of him, and the man offered a bow.
"My name is Ozpin, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. Welcome to our home."
Pyrrha was a bit baffled. The ship they had flown in on was registered to the Hapan Royal Family, and had made arrived unannounced. They could have crammed a couple dozen Hapan Royal Marines on board, landed in their temple, and had a platoon's worth of blasters shoved in the face of the Jedi's leader within seconds. Yet, the man was utterly calm and unphased, and more over, he had arrived alone. She shivered as she remembered a lesson that her buir had taught her about clan meetings.
All Mandalorians wore beskar'gam - the Mandalorian armor - and carried weapons, especially at formal gatherings. But her buir had taught her to see how the leaders of those clans carried those weapons, and more importantly, how many commandos they had at their backs. There was a subtle, but crucial difference between a leader who was simply representing the strength of their clan, and one trying to ward off others by projecting an image of strength over a real weakness.
This jetii had met them with the quiet, comfortable assurance of one who was supremely confident that he could handle whatever came out of that ship on his own. The fact that he hadn't even blinked at the unexpected presence of a Mandalorian in full beskar'gam suggested that he still wasn't concerned. Either the man was foolish, or felt capable of taking her on without skipping a beat, and the man didn't strike her as foolish.
"Senator Valkyrie. I'm relieved to see you unharmed," the human said, taking Nora's offered handshake.
"You received my message, then?"
"Indeed. We dispatched a team as swiftly as we could, and they are en route to Dagary Minor as we speak."
Nora flushed. "Is…"
"Ah. Indeed, a certain Miraluka Padawan was among the team sent in response." Ozpin smiled at the girl. "If it's any consolation, he was quite agitated to get underway as soon as possible, once he learned of your peril. We will send a holotransmission to the team, informing them of your safe arrival, which they will receive as part of their scheduled contact."
"Thank you, Grandmaster," said Nora, visibly relieved that Ren would be informed of her well-being as soon as possible.
Ozpin nodded to the Senator before turning to Yang. "Your Majesty. I must confess a degree of surprise -"
"They put a man in charge of the Jedi?" Yang blurted, simply unable to restrain herself any further. Ah, there was that Hapan misandry they'd all heard so much about.
Well. When there's a diplomatic faux pas so egregious that the gun-toting Mandalorian is obliged to stomp on the foot of a bonafide Chume'da of the Consortium, the situation had officially gone to shavit.
If the jetii Grandmaster was offended or upset, he certainly didn't show it, smiling warmly at the rude Princess like one would a misbehaving child. "It happens, from time to time," he said blandly. "Other times, our Order is led by a woman, or by one of a number of different culturally-delineated genders, or by a member of a species with radically different biological sexes from human beings." The Grandmaster's smile then turned a little too warm, like when one has settled on the perfect way to put the aforementioned misbehaving child back in their place. "Our latest information suggests that you should be diligently studying at the University of Hapes at this time. Does your grandmother know you're here?"
Through her helmet's optics, Pyrrha could see Yang just absolutely blanch at the mention of her grandmother, the Taa'Chume, ruling matriarch of the Consortium. The Mandalorian had to hand it to the old man; that was as smooth and masterful a verbal riposte as any she'd ever seen before.
"Of course, the Jedi Order is happy to welcome a future head of state for an educational outreach program," he continued, throwing the girl a lifeline. "After all, it's good for one charged with ensuring the peace and prosperity of billions of beings to learn…other points of view."
Thoroughly chastised, Yang just gave a shaky smile to the jetii, who then turned to the final member of their trio.
"I'm just a gun for hire," Pyrrha said.
"Well, given the dire circumstances in the message she sent, I gather that you're primarily to thank for bringing the Senator to safety?"
Pyrrha shrugged, somewhat uncomfortable with the scrutiny. "Nora was just smart enough to hire a Mandalorian," she said. "Expensive, but worth it."
"So it would seem. Would you care to share your name?" he asked.
"Pyrrha, of Clan Nikos."
"Well met, then, Pyrrha Nikos." Ozpin then gestured towards the pedestrian entrance of the hangar. "If you would care to accompany me to my office, I believe we have much to discuss about the happenings on Dagary Minor."
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It hadn't taken much for the Jedi trio to find the trail on Dagary Minor. A brief stop to a cantina in the world's capital city had stirred up all kinds of talk about some sort of terrorist attack that had taken place two days previous. The rumor mill swirled, and some suggestions were far more dubiously-credible than others, but the details commonly agreed-upon were that there was a residential building that collapsed from a bombing, and a running firefight towards the starport.
"This is likely Nora's handiwork," Ren said, extending his hand towards the silhouettes of the humanoid figures scorched into the street. As a Miraluka, Ren didn't see the way that beings with eyes did, instead, perceiving the world around him through the Force. He could discern…traces, of the particular chaotic signature of his Corellian lady friend, scattered like pink dust across the surface of the street.
It was also the last point on the trail that Nora's actions were significant enough to leave a mark, both physical and within the Force. A number of sapients had passed into the Force at this point due to her actions, and those actions reverberated through the Force. They were akin to ripples traveling the water's surface after a stone had been thrown in; in time, with further actions taken in this place, those ripples would synchronize with the new events, becoming effectively indiscernible. Only truly massive upheavals left permanent wounds within the Force, such as the Alderaan graveyard.
All well and good, but none of that told him anything about whether or not Nora had actually escaped whatever was pursuing her.
"I feel a…hint of the Dark Side," Blake said. The Twi'lek girl was a few meters away from the scorch mark, her amber eyes closed and her chin raised, as though trying to hear the faintest whisper. "Someone here was channeling it, but it was raw, amateur."
Ren frowned. Blake was both skilled and knowledgeable, but as a Miraluka, who perceived the galaxy almost exclusively through the Force, Ren should have been able to pick up on it much sooner than she could. Turning his attention to the area where his fellow Padawan stood, and ignoring the gently swirling tidal current that he had come to associate with her, Ren was able to perceive the slightest echoes of a discordant warping of the natural harmonies of the Force. It was minor, and fading quickly, but still there.
"How did I miss that?" he wondered.
"Because your focus was locked onto the girl."
Both Padawans turned as they heard the distinctive, raspy voice of the Jedi Master, who casually ambled towards them with his hands in the pockets of his gray slacks. "For those of us with optical sight, we sometimes experience times where our eyes physically see something, but our minds get so caught up in a specific goal or worry…we call it 'tunnel vision.' Not something I'm guessin' you're used to dealing with."
"No, Master," Ren shook his head. Was this how it started? The path down the Dark Side? Was he condemned to an existence of hatred and suffering because he'd run off to play hide-the-lightsaber with a girl and now was worried about her safety?
"Kriffin' relax, kid." Master Qrow swatted his apprentice upside the head, shocking him out of his spiral. "You're not gonna go off and start goin' 'bwa-ha-ha' and crushin' suns just because you had your focus slip a little. It just means that you're a normal kid. Remember, Jedi aren't perfect. We're still just sapients, just with a little edge, is all." Qrow grinned over at Blake. "Belladonna, if he doesn't pull the stick out of his ass, you have formal sanction to do it for him, and beat him with it. A little. A moderate ass-stick beating, if you would."
"Yes, Master Qrow," the Twi'lek girl dutifully replied, an amused glint in her amber eyes.
Despite his continued worry, both for his Corellian friend and for the implications of his undeniable attachment to her, Ren huffed in amusement. "I'd really rather you not go digging around on my…person," he deadpanned towards Blake.
"I'll let your girlfriend handle that," she shot back. A predictable retort, but the words of the banter mattered less than the spirit behind it.
The Miraluka took a deep breath. What he'd shared with Nora…it wasn't a physical matter. Well, at least not only a physical matter, he thought with a wry smile. They'd connected with one another on a deeper level, truly…well, for lack of a better term, seeing one another. The holo recording she'd sent to the Jedi Temple didn't tell them what she'd found, but the fact remained, that she'd found something. The Corellian girl had either made it to safety or she hadn't, but that didn't change the fact that what she needed, what she'd called out for, was a Jedi.
He spent a moment centering himself. As he did so, he began to detect the faint, fading signature of the Dark Side, trailing back to…
"There's something else," he announced. "Something…darker."
[/]
Pyrrha was trying not to sigh. Trying hard.
The head jetii was, of course, very interested in hearing their story, especially about the creatures that Nora had found, and the lightsaber-wielding jetii that had attacked them. Once it was established that their attacker wasn't one of the jetii's tribe, and that no one there was going to seek retribution on his behalf, Pyrrha was all-too happy to detail her defeat of the renegade.
And by that, she meant "bragging." Mandalorians were big believers in recounting their glorious victories, after all.
That was all well and good, and if the jetii had an opinions on her cackling as she recalled the look on the sorcerer's face as he fell, his legs ripping away from the fury of a good old-fashioned Mandalorian blaster, well, he kept them to himself admirably.
No, the problem was that he wanted the three of them to stay, and meet with some specialized jetii detective that had gone off in response to the message Nora had sent.
Nora was all for it, as it meant sticking around to see her hunky jetii boytoy again. Yang was onboard, primarily to sell the story that she was studying in a foreign system to her grandmother. But Pyrrha had only reluctantly agreed to stay with Yang for two reasons; firstly, she didn't want to fly commercial if she could avoid it, and secondly, being the "personal bodyguard" of a literal princess promised to be a well-paying gig.
The blonde girl's big, pleading violet eyes and wobbling lip had had no impact in her decision. None! It was all business, she told herself, even as Yang had promptly glomped onto her. She reminded herself that she was a badass Mandalorian commando, born of the finest warriors in the galaxy, a roaming gun-for-hire with a sharp gaze and a heart of cold beskar. Pyrrha was, in no way, shape, or form, a 'softie!'
Pyrrha didn't know if there was any truth to the legends that jetii could read minds, but the smug little grin the old man had as she tried to convince herself that she wasn't a total pushover had left her steaming.
So, she'd be staying, at least for a few days, but still, these jetii didn't seem like the sort to be able to take on a Mandalorian at all, let alone stopping a Grand Crusade dead in its tracks. Not that she was set to go marauding across the galaxy or anything like that, but…were these really the fearsome warrior sorcerers of legend? As Nora was speaking with the head jetii, Pyrrha looked out of a window. A Togruta woman was sitting cross-legged in the grass, with a pair of younglings across from her, one a human girl and the other a Zabrak boy. Both younglings were fidgeting, no doubt buckling under childrens' universally-despised orders of 'sit down and stay still.' It was all so peaceful, which, to a young, hot-blooded Mando'ade, was another word for "boring."
While Pyrrha was glad that she wouldn't have to be shooting her way out of there, she couldn't deny being at least a little disappointed by how…tranquil this place was. They were less warriors or sorcerers, and more like a religious monastery. Safe? Sure. But this would be soooooo boring!
"Thank you for your cooperation," the jetii leader said to Pyrrha's apparently hoity-toity companions.
Pyrrha had just about resigned herself to a week of utter tedium when the door to the jetii Grandmaster's office hissed open. The Mandalorian was only just able to keep herself from springing to her feet and drawing a blaster from the unexpected arrival.
The newcomer was a jetii, but much…younger. He was a fit young human man, tall, with broad shoulders only made wider by the armor that he was wearing. It looked to be enameled durasteel - not everyone could be a Mandalorian, after all - worn over simple, but durable dark brown clothing, complete with a cape under the pauldrons. One of the jetii laser swords hung openly from his belt. His hair was a blond tousle, just messy enough to suggest a rakish charm.
Oh.
Oh, this wait just got much more interesting.
The young jetii bowed politely. "You called, Master?"
"Indeed. These young ladies are Senator Nora Valkyrie, of Corellia, Yang Xiao Long, Chume'da of the Hapes Consortium, and Pyrrha, of Mandalore's Clan Nikos. Ladies, this is my apprentice, Jaune Arc. I suppose it would be much less…dull for you, to have someone closer to your own age show you around the Temple, yes?" Okay, either jetii Ozpin really could read minds, or Pyrrha's near-existential despair had been seeping out through her body language. From the outright amused grin on the old human's face, it could have been either, really. "Jaune, if you would entertain the Order's guests, and see to their needs?"
"Hello," the young man, Jaune, said, bowing politely. "I'd be happy to show you around, and answer what I can about the Jedi."
With the appropriate niceties dispensed from the diplos towards their host, the women left Ozpin's office to follow their guide.
"Do you know a Jedi named Lie Ren?" Nora asked.
"Sure do," replied Jaune. "We're in the same class together, and we've been training together for years. How do you know him?"
"They were snogging," Yang blurted out, before Nora could answer.
"Really?" Jaune almost tripped in his surprise, while behind him, Nora gave her Hapan counterpart a quick jab to the ribs in retaliation. "You realize, of course, that this means we are all obliged to tease him mercilessly?"
"Sounds good. I'm sure you've got lots of blackmail material -"
"Do you have a battle circle?" Pyrrha, simply unable to contain herself any further, interjected. She'd have caught an elbow to the ribs as well, but with her armor, it made for a rather daunting prospect.
"I'm sorry, I'm unfamiliar with the term," answered the slightly bewildered Padawan.
"A battle circle. Dueling hall. Training room. Fight me!"
Jaune looked to the other two women. Yang just shrugged. "A bored Mandalorian is a Mandalorian that'll be looking to shoot something," Nora advised. "Probably best to channel that in a less…destructive avenue."
The blond Jedi looked hesitant. "Well, we're not really supposed to fight for the sake of our own ego…"
"But your master did tell you to entertain his guests, and one of those guests is a Mandalorian," Yang supplied, grinning at the prospect of her friend causing a little havoc.
"Why do you even want to fight me anyway?" he asked the armored woman.
"I beat the karkin' shebs right off that knockoff jetii on Dagary Minor," said Pyrrha, her voice growing more animated.
"I helped!" Yang pointed out.
"Yang helped," Pyrrha agreed. "But the point is, as soon as he was at all distracted, I stomped him out and blasted out his kneecaps."
"I guess you could say he was…de-feeted?" offered Yang. She looked back and forth at the others, all of whom were looking at her, appalled. "What? He choked me, and not in a fun way. Had it comin'..." she grumbled.
"Anyways," Pyrrha pressed ahead, "He certainly didn't seem like an all-powerful sorcerer."
Jaune shook his head. "Well, I can save you some time and tell you upfront that I'm not all-powerful."
"I got that, genius," snapped Pyrrha. "What I want to know - what I need to know - is where jetti rank in terms of enemies, and where I stand in relation to them."
The blond Jedi crossed his arms and sighed. "All right, I'll have a 'duel' with you, Lady Nikos. Just make sure your weapons are set to stun."
"Are you afraid of getting a little blaster burn?"
"No, we set weapons on stun because there are younglings about," he said, gesturing down towards the grassy courtyard, where the two younglings and their teacher were continuing their meditation exercises.
"Oh," Pyrrha blushed under her helmet. "I suppose that would make sense, then."
Jaune led the women down to the central circle. He began adjusting his lightsaber, quietly grinning to himself over the little surprise he had in store for the Mandalorian visitor.
"Is that a Rising Phoenix Mark Six?"
Annnnd there was Ruby, right on time. Master Glynda merely sighed in resignation at the idea of getting the younglings to focus while strange new visitors were in the Temple.
The small human girl zipped right towards Pyrrha, who paused in her adjustments to her blasters to look at the child. "That is the Mark Six!" the girl gasped. "Oh, and your beskar'gam is so beautiful! Bronze for nobility, right?"
Pyrrha blinked. "You…seem to know a lot about Mandalorian culture," she said.
"Oh, I had a bit of an adventure on Mandalore a while back," the girl said, barely skipping a beat. "My beskar! Let me show you it!"
The hyperactive jetii youngling reached behind her back and pulled out a rod of wrought beskar, which telescoped out into the length of a polearm's shaft.
"How did you -"
"Oh, Grogu, of Clan Mudhorn, made this for me. He's really nice!"
Pyrrha looked towards Jaune helplessly. The blond just smiled broadly at her, the barve.
"So anyway," the girl began to continue rolling right along, before the Togruta woman interrupted her with a pointed cough. "What?" the girl asked.
"Manners, Padawan?" the Togruta crossed her arms.
"Oh. Those." The girl turned back to Pyrrha, with large, glistening silver eyes. "I'm Ruby!" she chirped. "Ruby Rose, Padawan extraordinaire!"
…Pyrrha reminded herself that it would be frowned upon to snatch up a youngling to take her home, especially a jetii child. Being adorable did not, in and of itself, make a child a Foundling. Also, she wasn't a 'softie,' shut up, Yang. "I'm Pyrrha, of Clan Nikos," she said. "I'm going to be engaging in a…training duel with your friend here."
Ruby looked her up and down. "You're gonna fight Jaune?" Then she outright snerked at her, the little brat. "Yeah, okay. Have fun with that!"
Yang was laughing so hard at her getting shut down by a girl who looked to be fourteen or fifteen that the blonde Hapan almost fell, leaning on a reluctant Nora for support.
"I see remedial etiquette lessons are required, Padawan Rose," the Togruta said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Greetings, guests of the Order. My name is Glynda, a Master here at the Jedi Temple. And this is young Padawan Ozkerr."
"Hello," the small Zabrak boy waved. Then an Echani girl arrived, looking puzzled at the situation. She was quickly introduced as yet another of these "Padawan" apprentices.
With introductions swiftly made, the combatants squared off against each other.
"So, what are the rules?" asked Jaune.
"Come at me with everything you've got, jetii."
"Are you sure? I can come with an awful lot."
"I can take anything you can give."
"Well, you've never taken anything like this before, have you?"
"Tell that to the last man I fought. Left him flat on his back."
"Will you just fight already!" The Echani girl snapped. With her arms crossed and her lips thinned into a hard line, it was easy to see that something had bothered the newcomer.
The Togruta woman, Glynda, stepped in. "Ready and…begin!"
Jaune ignited his lightsaber, a beam of golden plasma erupting from the hilt, to appreciative 'oohs' and 'ahhs' from the spectators. Pyrrha drew up her blaster rifle and fired a stun bolt at him. The jetii swatted the tightly-bound concentric rings of plasma out of the air with a smooth ease that spoke of years of dedicated practice. Well. That was different. Thinking to overwhelm his abilities like she had with the renegade jetti, she fired a three-shot burst. With that same ease, Jaune parried, left, right, and then a swinging parry that sent her own shot rocketing right back towards her.
Pyrrha was obliged to roll out of the way, springing to her feet. She saw the young jetti standing in a two-handed side guard. Golden light from his weapon spilled across his right side. He was relaxed, but focused, with the calm confidence of one who was utterly secure in his ability. His deep blue eyes held the slight spark, the glint, that marked a true warrior, one who, irrespective of his religious upbringing, loved the fight itself.
Huh. He must have surreptitiously cast some jetti magic to make her knees wobble. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.
She triggered her jetpack, taking to the air to pepper stun bolts at him. To her amusement, he activated a Mandalorian energy shield that projected from his left vambrace, using it to block her shots. Her amusement was replaced with something akin to panic when the crazy barve threw his lightsaber at her.
Stun setting or no, beskar or no, a lightsaber flying at your face is a lightsaber flying at your face, and Pyrrha scrambled to jet out of the way. She touched down in front of him, blaster raised. "Neat trick, jetti, but as you can see, you've disarmed yourself beautifully. Now -"
She was cut off as something clonked her on the back of her helmeted head, the impact making a resounding thunk. The Mandalorian staggered forwards, salvaging her guard just in time to see the lightsaber float back into Jaune's outstretched hand. And all with that kriffing smile on his face!
When this was over, Pyrrha was either going to shoot him, or ride him like a bantha. Possibly both.
The golden blade reignited, and the Mandalorian was obliged to toss her beloved rifle to the side, scrambling to activate her own shield just before the lightsaber crashed into it. With her right hand, she reached behind her back and drew the short beskad - a sword made of beskar - and then made to stab at his unarmored face. Jaune parried the sword, the low-power setting of his lightsaber causing the edge to merely spark a little at the point of contact. Pyrrha worked her blade over and around, seeking to slip under his guard, when suddenly, short blades ignited from the small emitters on the sides of his weapon, forming a dangerous quillon.
The low-powered yellow plasma skittered across the visor of her helmet, and Pyrrha was obliged to give ground. Jaune reactivated his own shield, and the two crashed into each other, the magnetic fields containing the plasma spitting and crackling.
All right, pissed now. It didn't help that many of her countermeasures weren't really suited for a battle circle that wasn't to the death. Even Mandalorians frowned at whipping out the flamethrowers for a friendly training duel. Besides, it was probably better to keep some of her tricks - like the Whistling Birds, flamethrower, or stun gas system - up her sleeve in case she ever needed to drop a jetti for real.
Still, that didn't mean that she was just going to give up. The hilt of her sword telescoped longer, just like the hyperactive Padawan's beskar hilt, and Pyrrha's short sword became as a spear. She whipped it around, letting the wicked tip build momentum in its slices, trying to ward off the jetti and keep him at a distance.
Distance seemed to be key to fighting jetti, what with those lightsabers, but given that they could also bat blaster bolts back at her, she would need to look into some alternatives. A supersonic slugthrower, maybe?
It didn't help that Jaune just kept coming, relentlessly, like a destroyer droid with a lightsaber. None of his techniques seemed all that special, in and of themselves, but they were executed with perfect timing and distance, working to get inside the circle of defense created by the spear tip.
Pyrrha activated her jetpack again, taking to the sky once more. She collapsed her spear into a sword, sheathing it on the small of her back, before raising her gauntlet at the wary Jedi. Keeping just out of range of that saber, she fired her fibrecord whip towards him. It didn't wrap around his body, but it did wrap around his left arm. She'd fly him up into the air and then -
The Mandalorian was jerked out of the air with an almighty yank. She yelped as the hit the ground, skidding, before the jetti was on her. Before she even registered what happened, she had been tied up like a nerf calf, and the jetti was casually sitting on her.
What was he, some kind of nerfherder?!
"I think we can call it here," the Togruta woman remarked, her tone dry.
"Hey, Jaune!" Both victor and vanquished looked over to see Ruby. "I've seen these duels before. You're supposed to take her helmet off now."
Pyrrha flushed. She was on her side, arms and legs bound up in her own fibrecord, with a handsome, muscular warrior sitting on her after having just taken her down, and now he might take off her helmet. Oh sure, it was one thing to pop the ol' bucket off to take a drink, or relax with friends and family. It was quite another for someone, someone who had just won a duel, to do that to someone they'd just defeated. Especially for young, unbonded people.
It had…connotations.
Somehow, being tied up made it better. Why did being tied up make it better?!
Jaune, for his part, was unaware of the hormonal frenzy that the Mandalorian visitor was working up. "Is it…okay if I take your helmet off?" he asked. "I don't wish to give offense."
Mark her words: Like. A. Bantha.
"...I…yes…" Pyrrha murmured.
He reached down and gently lifted the helmet off of her head. The jetti gasped as he took in her striking, emerald green eyes, her high cheekbones, and her soft pink lips.
"Oh, wow," he blurted. "You're…really beautiful."
Neither one noticed the Echani girl storm off in a huff.
[/]
Ren led his teacher and fellow apprentice to the blasted-out remains of a warehouse.
"Be honest: when tracking your girlfriend, is it really the Force, or do you just follow the explosions?" deadpanned Blake.
"There is no chaos; there is harmony," recited Ren, smiling. "Except when Nora's around. Then there is most definitely chaos."
Master Qrow frowned. "We need to get this rubble moved. Use the Force, but don't wear yourselves out. Show me you can control exactly how much effort to put in, and not a single bit more than needed."
When channeling the Force, it could be easy to…overdo it, as it were. The Force was infinite, but a Jedi most certainly was not. Clearing the way into the building's lower levels - the disturbance in the Force was obviously emanating from beneath the ground level - would be an arduous task. It would be up to the apprentices to demonstrate that they could both channel great power and exercise precise control.
The Jedi Master stood, arms crossed, as the Twi'lek and Miraluka Padawans reached out in the Force. Blake's grasp of telekinesis was quite advanced, and she did most of the heavy lifting, shoving aside great chunks of masonry. Ren was more surgical, carefully pulling smaller pieces out or away to let the debris stacked on top collapse off to one side.
A few minutes later, the majority of the warehouse's first floor was cleared, and Qrow could see a stairway leading further down into the building. He let his lightsabers slip down his sleeves and into his hands, and the two apprentices fell in line behind him.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," muttered Ren.
The duracrete stairs, walls, and ceiling were all cracked and jagged, with sections crumbling away. The Jedi could hear a warping, shrieking sound, like durasteel being wrenched apart, emanating from the far end of the sublevel. Following it, they came upon a large antechamber. Wrecked consoles and shattered stasis pods lined the walls, while the roughly octagonal room was dominated by a great pit in the center of the floor.
Blake frowned in confusion. "What do you think -"
The girl's question was cut off by a great, deep bellowing roar.
"Ah hell."
The shrieking of metal continued, growing louder, until a great clawed hand, longer than Blake was tall, emerged from the pit. Its skin was a glistening, oily black texture, with near-skeletal proportions shrunken around the grasping appendage. Enormous, bone-white claws crowned the tips of the inhuman digits, strong enough to dig into the duracrete of the ceiling above. A second hand soon followed, and with leverage achieved, the monster in the pit began hauling itself up.
"Out of the building," snapped Qrow. "Now!"
The Jedi turned and ran, leaping up the stairs three at a time before scrambling out of the destroyed warehouse. The great beast soon burst through the floor, rising, and rising.
It looked like it may have been a twisted caricature of a rancor - already a fearsome beast - if rancor monsters stood four stories tall. Its mouth was a catastrophic jumble of razor teeth that jutted from a lipless maw, and its face and skull was dominated by a mask of white bone.
Qrow just sighed, then casually ignited his lightsabers, their blades glowing orange, like the Bespin sunset.
"Just so you kids know," he said. "The Force can be a real dick sometimes."
[/]
Chapter Endnotes:
Q: You did not end that on a cliffhanger, you piece of shit.
A: That's..not a question? Also, yes, yes I did. You're welcome.
Let's take the concept of the teren'tatek and fuse it with the Grimm. Because that's how we roll.
Jedi vs. Mando: Really? You had Jaune win? Yep. First of all, Pyrrha is still a relatively young Mandalorian. Secondly, she's keeping some of her specifically anti-Jedi gear in reserve. Finally, while you can "crash-course" a Jedi pretty quick in a war, this is peacetime, more or less, and the Jedi aren't taking in nearly every Force Sensitive infant in the Republic; they have small class sizes or individual training, and the time to lavish training on them to a very high degree.
It's not that Jaune, Ren, Weiss, and Blake don't have the skill or ability to be full Jedi Knights yet, it's about making sure that they have the temperament and maturity. Ren's insecure about his ability to both love and Jedi, Jaune is blissfully unaware of the emotions of others, Weiss has to deal with jealousy and spite, and Blake is Blake, which means she's gonna kark up something soon. She's Blake. It's just what she does.
Yang stepped in it, huh? She's so terrible at politics, it's hilarious. When even the bloody Mando thinks you're being rude, you're being really rude.
The helmet-pulling thing was my own invention, figuring that, some five centuries after Din finds a balance between respecting tradition and not being a zealous twat, some new Mandalorian customs might develop. Hilariously, I'm now imagining Mandalorian duels that are kind of like prom dates. There's a picture I saw once of Boba Fett's granddaughter (long story) getting hitched, with both bride and groom in armor, just with their helmets off. It was too cute.
Okay, see y'all later.
-Mahina