Public One with the Force, In Harmony with the Tyia

[Ashla Novakin]

Iridonia


In a way, Ashla had come home. She was a Zabrak, after all, and for most Zabraks, Iridonia was their ancestral home. She had never visited it before, but it felt appropriate to visit on her pilgrimage. For many, they came to Jedha and the New Holy City for their spiritual pilgrimage. But what good did that do her? She'd grown up there. To go on pilgrimage, one needed to go beyond, to seek the new, and find the Force, the Tyia, and the Force of Others in the journeying. Or rather, they are the journey. Not until she had completed her pilgrimage would she be considered for the seventh duan. She had already worked her way up to the fourth. Such pilgrimages and journeyings weren't permitted for those in the lower duans. They lacked the training and insight necessary to have the spiritual awareness necessary to progress the steps of enlightenment.

Shouting attracted her attention down an alleyway and the young woman stiffened. There was discord there. A disruption of harmony. Disturbance in the Force. Multiple understandings of the Force, but they all meant the same thing. Trouble. Loosening her grip on the staff, she tightened the straps of her pack and stepped down the alley.

There was trouble alright. Looked like a gang of four Zabraks were mugging a smaller one, an adolescent, she judged. She'd almost forgotten that Iridonian was also synonymous in certain areas of the galaxy with fighter. Birthplace of Iridonian martial arts. Perhaps that was what had brought her here. A chance to face her people's violent legacy with her own. Integrate this aspect of her own nature and find harmony with it.

A vibroblade whipped past her head and buried itself into the wall of the building next to her. She'd barely moved. Just tilted her head a few degrees so it whispered harmlessly past, rather than burying its blade in her flesh. Well, sometimes restoring harmony meant more than simply meditating. She slid her hands along the staff and hefted it, placing her feet, and shifting her focus, relying on the Inward Eye of the Outer Hand, to guide her through this.

"Run, child," she said to the adolescent, while the four turned to her. "I will handle this situation. Get to safety and help." The four muggers grinned and turned towards her.

"This one thinks she's a fighter. Look at her markings. Not a single day of Iridonian fight-training in them. Maybe we ought to give her first lesson for free." Three more vibroknives emerged from hidden sheaths. "What do you say?" The leader looked at her this time.

Ashla took a deep breath and lowered her stance some more. "I am one with the Force."

"And she takes herself for a Jedi? Should know they're not welcome here. Might fetch a high price from the Sith." Then they were advancing, slowly but relentlessly. Ashla waited, not moving. She had longer reach with the staff, and once they were in reach, she moved. Shift of the foot. Twist of the torso. The staff slammed into a knife handle and the numbed hand dropped to the ground, stinging in shock.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

White-knight in to save the day - wasn't that the Jedi path? But the Zabrak woman with the staff seemed eighteen times more competent in this situation than Quill would have been, so he just stood there like an idiot.

On the other hand, he could at least-

ZZT

The vibroblades stopped working. Vibroblades were nasty things; look at them wrong and they'd take a limb. Right now they were just plain blades. Not that Quill didn't have immediate and absolute confidence in the Force adept's staff work, but maybe just a little help. Gesture of appreciation, say. Well, half that and half not wanting to be one of those bystanders who does nothing when a bunch of gangers jump a lady - regardless of the capabilities of said lady.

People were exhausting and complicated. It was always tough to know a good way forward. Quill sat on a garbage can and watched.

Ashla Novakin

 

[Ashla Novakin]

Jend-Ro Quill

The hum of vibroblades vanished suddenly. As a practitioner of the Inward Eye, the sudden absence was shockingly noticeable. So much so it nearly threw her off rhythm as the rest lunged at her, spreading out in a half-circle. They had done this before, it seemed. Unfortunate. It meant she couldn't intimidate them into backing down. They were serious. She could just make out someone sitting on a nearby garbage can, watching. Human male. Older. Bearded. Homeless or drunk maybe? She could feel somethnig in his aura, but her concentration was focused elsewhere.

She shifted the hold on the staff, holding it in front of her, one foot ahead of the other on a centerline. Minimal, efficient movement. Use their momentum and themselves against each others. They all darted in at once. Ashla stayed calm and moved.

Deftly. Elegantly. More importantly, with precision. Jabs and half-twirls with the staff, just enough to knock blades away from their intended path towards. Sting the wrists. Trip feet with the butt end of the staff. Never standing still unless strikes were going to miss her where she stood anyway. But never big sweeping movements. Left too much room open. Had to keep herself covered.

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Ashla Novakin wasn't just good, she was the kind of good that made you feel inadequate. Maybe Quill could have matched her twenty ears ago. Watching her reminded him of the really skilled Jedi he'd served with back then - Seydon of Arda, Darron Wraith, Jaxton Ravos, Je'gan Olra'en, Ben Watts, Aleidis Ijet: the old crowd. Maybe he was too much in his own head. Maybe it wouldn't be disrespectful to help.

On the other hand, he just might not want someone like her to think poorly of him. Selfishness and selflessness really could intertwine in paralyzing ways.

He pulled out a kyberite medallion, a Jedi confessional talisman, and drew on the force through it. The goal here was to awaken their consciences and make them back off, overwhelmed by guilt. The woman would feel something too, but presumably she had a better relationship with her conscience.

 

[Ashla Novakin]

Something surged through the atmosphere, cutting past even her razor-honed focus. A sense of rightness? Appropriate behavior? She wasn't at all sure, but the looks on the face of the others made it clear they felt something very different. They slowed as struggle appeared on their faces and then they stopped. Several threw the knives down in horror as they looked at each other. Ashla held herself still. Steady breaths. Controlled breaths as she regained her composure and reclaimed the stance.

Yet it appeared to be unnecessary. The four would-be thieves scattered into the alleyway and main street behind her. The Zabrak woman waited for several moments before lowering the staff to the ground and turning to survey the area. Just the bearded man, focusing on some sort of medallion. The Force radiated from the man in a way she'd not noticed before. Leaning on the staff, she raised an eyebrow.

"I'm guessing that was your doing that made them reconsider their life choices? I appreciate your help. Fighting would have done none of them any good in the long run, except to emphasize the value of their decision to rely on violence." She clasped her hands on the staff and bowed. "Ashla Novakin. Guardian of the Whills on my pilgrimage across the galaxy. And I sense perhaps that you are a Jedi?"

Jend-Ro Quill

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

"Ashla Novakin-" He slid off the garbage can. "I'm Quill. Not a pilgrim, but I'm a hermit, and that's close enough, right?"

He chewed on his words for the next little bit, almost a socially awkward length of time.

"Glad you take that perspective on what's good for them. Smart way to look at it. I only held off because some Jedi get fussy if I help. It's a pride thing or maybe they think I think they can't handle it."

An idea came to mind. He fished out a similar kyberite amulet and tossed it over.

"It's a confessional. Jedi used to use things like this to confess their sins. Me, I use it to meditate on conscience and course correction - and that gives it a power to...well, what you just saw." He tapped his temple. "Wake their conscience up."

 

[Ashla Novakin]

Jend-Ro Quill
“Quill,” Ashla said, giving another bow. “The Force and the Tyia are in harmony with our meeting. Besides, what is a hermit but a pilgrim of the spirit?”

She took a few moments to kick the dropped knives down into the gutter, pushing to listen to them clatter and bounce before splashing into the gunk below.

“Jedi would have their pride offended at assistance?” She frowned at the thought, but caught the other medallion that he tosses her way. “Thank you. I feel that it will be helpful in having a greater sense of my Tyia. And if it can awaken conscience in others, I suspect that it makes them more aware of theirs as well.”

She tied a length of string around and to the medallion, before slipping it over her neck.”What brings you to Iridonia?”

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Ashla Novakin

"The One Sith. About fifteen years ago they took down a Jedi temple in the Iridonian rainforest, about fifty miles south of here. They planned to build a Sith academy, a minor one I suppose - as far as the records show, it never came to much. I'm on my way to visit the old site, bury any remains the jungle hasn't taken, make sure there's no Sith presence."

Quill's head tilted. "I'm sorry, I'm fascinated - you're both a Guardian of the Whills and a Tyia adept? Or do those traditions overlap?"

 

[Ashla Novakin]

Jend-Ro Quill

Ashla tilted her head. "One Sith academy here on Iridonia? That is unfortunate," Her brows furrowed for a moment as she considered. "But I suppose it would make a lot of sense then. We have an... unfortunately violent legacy, my people. If you would permit me, I'd be willing to help put that to rest."

She tightened the straps on her pack to readjust the weight. "Both, yes. I was born and raised in a Tyia colony on Jedha. The practices and training of the Guardians fascinated me, so I went to learn from them, and eventually reached the point where I could take the vows and enter into the duans proper. The two can complement each other, but there is a certain tension to be negotiated between the two."

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Ashla Novakin

"I've hired a speeder - I'm in no mood to walk fifty miles."

She was younger than he'd thought, less than half his age for certain. Maybe it was her composure that made her come off as older, or maybe he'd just seen her poorly in the alleyway. He buckled into the speeder and told its navigation system to continue the trip.

"I'd imagine the role of violence is one of those tensions. Aren't the Tyia fundamentally pacifist, or am I mixing them up with the Fallanassi again?"

 

[Ashla Novakin]

Jend-Ro Quill

Ashla gave a slight chuckle at the comment and shrugged. "I don't blame you for that. Walking fifty isn't fun." She tightened the straps on the pack and her bracers. He got another laugh at the comment on the Tyia. "Pacifism, harmony, and the sanctity of life." She shrugged after a moment. "It can be difficult to balance them all. Especially somewhere like Jedha."

With a twist of her wrist, she collapsed part of the staff into a more suitable walking stick that could fit into a speeder. "Can harmony really be established if the strong prey on the weak?"

 

[Jend-Ro Quill]

Ashla Novakin

"Oh, I'm not questioning your beliefs by any means - I carry a lightsaber. Pacifism has its place." Quill got the speeder up and moving, bound for the ruined temple. "My rights end where yours begin, of course. Your right to survive is more important than my...right...to feel good about myself. Ergo, absolute pacifism is for moral cowards." He waved vaguely at the sky. "With apologies to all the Ithorian nature priests out there."

The speeder slid out of the city and onto a highway. Soon enough they'd get off that highway and take back roads into the jungle.

"You know, the One Sith weren't exactly known for subtlety. My sincere hope is that they meant to build an academy but never actually did. The best-case scenario is we find a tragic ruin with a bunch of Jedi bones inside.

 

[Darth Vocat]

Vocat's ship lurked at the edge of the gutted Jedi compound, right in the shadow of the temple structure and surrounding trees. The ship wasn't much, a light corvette crewed by Akala cultists in service to the Elder. Whether Vocat was truly one of them was a matter of some disagreement. For starters, other than her White Current abilities, she couldn't actually touch the Force - but on the other hand, the Blessed Queen herself had been a master of illusion. Conversations like that were how they'd whiled away the trip to Iridonia while Vocat locked herself in the ship's small bridge.

Now, thankfully, the ship was quieter. Cultists were filtering out to poke around the ruin and claim what could be claimed. The One Sith had killed many Jedi here in terrible ways. There could be lightsabers, broken or not, and those had great value. Fewer than one in four of these cultists owned a functional saber. Vocat didn't even own one herself, though that was at least partially a matter of choice. The Elder had strongly suggested that she should start learning, so here she was, poking through ruins at night with a flashlight, kicking debris for any flash of leftover metal.