Take Off The Mask

[Alric Kuhn]

He stood before the chief.

Or who he assumed to be the chief. He sat on a wicker throne, his hands wrapped around a different kind of Gadderfi stick, his clothes altered, and women prostrated around him. At least Alric was pretty sure that they were women, it was difficult to tell with the clothing that covered them. He didn't speak at first, only watched as the Chief inspected him high up on his throne.

There were rumblings.

Guttural throaty rumblings as the Tusken Raiders who had taken him in spoke to the chief.

He noticed an emblem on one of their shoulders, one that did not match the banners that hung behind the throne. He looked questioningly around himself, his gaze trying to find something, anything that he could use to get away. When he found only guns and more sand people, that hope quickly died. The next thing that occurred to him was speaking, but would the Tuskens even understand?

The chief and the Tusken who had brought him here seemed to reach some sort of achievement, shaking hands above their odd melee weapons before slowly turning to Alric. The CEO of Titan Industries would have said that they looked at him expectantly, but neither of the Tuskens made any indication of what they wanted.

“Listen I-” He got a single word out, and then a strong blow from a Gadderfi stick caught him in the diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to buckle to the floor.

The Surrounding Tuskens began to howl, making amused noises.

Out of the corner of his eyes Alric watched a Jawa scuttle away.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
S O U T H E R N J U N D L A N D W A S T E S

Night continue to fall, painting the landscape in the dim light of two of the three moons of Tatooine and the sky a deep orange indigo. They were all in various phases of the moon, with one shrouded by a new moon while the rest were slivers of crescents. It held enough light to travel at night, while giving enough cover to remain unseen.

At least for those who knew how to travel Jundland so.

The hours had ticked on by and Danger didn't have much in the terms of clues beyond a starting point. Which, at least, was something to start with. There were a few Tusken Raider clans that made their camp nearby -- but there were also a few who were no more than traveling Bedouins. Some who were in good trade relations with Arceneau, while others...

Well, Inari the Reviver help Kuhn if he was taken by them.

Her mind had raced on how exactly she was going to get Kuhn out if she found him -- and it was a big if. She held no foolish illusions. The desert was unmerciful as it was beautiful. Time was of the essence, and the longer it took for her to find him the more likely she would never.

It just how it was.

​

A series of flickering fires in the distance would break the horizon. And with it came the tell tale enormous wedge shaped silhouettes of Sand Crawlers.

If there was anyone who knew the movements of the local Raiders, it was them.

With teeth grinding down hard under her rebreather mask and thick wrap of scarves, Danger headed straight to them.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

They kicked him a few more times as he lay on the ground. Not hard mind you, not hard at all, though he was sure that a few of them did it just so they would be able to say they kicked a human. One sent a jab to his ribs that caused the bone to bend, though luckily it only bruised.

Alric knew what that felt like, a bruised rib.

He had had many.

In fact Alric had achieved pretty much every single close quarters injury one could ever hope to get. Broken ribs, arms, hands, wrist, face, split lips, sheared off skin, everything. Alric had experienced it once in his life time. An x-ray of his body looked far more like glued together parts than an actual grown skeleton. He found that ironic really, but thanks to modern medicine, and a whole lot of healing, Alrics body was actually quite tolerable to pain and beatings.

Which is why even with half a dozen Tuskens kicking him, he was actually okay.

It was only when they lifted him off the ground by cold wrenching hands that Alric found himself panicking. What was he to do? He was a slave now, apparently bought by one tribal chieftain to fulfill whatever purpose. Would he be worked to death?

Alric had no idea, but as they forcibly pushed him out of the tent he noted the setting suns of Tatooine. His eyes began to dash around, desperately looking, desperately searching for a way out. He thought back to the game, to Dejarik.

His gaze cast around the camp as they kicked him, watching everything, taking it in. He spotted something in the corner of the camp, bright red with labels on it, fuel canisters? eyes bulged slightly as he tipped his head down in a defensive position.

There was always another move.

Always a way out.

Always.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S

"M’um m’aloo. Eyeta." came the chirping of the first Jawa that saw Danger approach. Granted there was a bit of wariness to it, and Danger wasn't surprised to see a blaster or to pointed at her.

“Habba habba da oon da oon, oh oh..” there came a small nudge as Danger held her hands up, universal sign of 'hey, don't shot me.' along with, the following.

"Hoohoohoo haahaa. Nengo bah.” she began, surprising them by talking in Jawaese Trade Language instead of Basic. Her voice came off with a faint metallic tinge, and curious that they were, continued asking.

"Guak wa Neenee Cha Ba?" Their bright yellow eyes under their tiny brown cloaks glowing bright.

"Steika Ba!" Danger answered. Followed by, "Zookeyneee Wa Na Be -- Arceneau."

"Bo Shuda!" came the exclamation. A buzz of excitement came. Five more Jawas came rushing in the thrum of it all. They began to gesture at her and then towards the Sandcrawler, then out to the desert, then back at Danger again.

"Bowa Arceneau Zootaneenee!" The first Jawa told to next. “Hoo gagagaga hy, tareeba tareeba.”

“Hey de die hy degada dagada degadada?" she asked about the most recent Tusken Raider movements in the area. And if they had made any raids lately.

"Hu dudda ha, hy de huha.” Said the second Jawa.

“Bahbit.” A nod from the Jawa confirmed it all. There had been recent movement from three Tusken Raider clans in the area. But in regards to whom had a new prize in tow as a slave, one Jawa by the name Bahbit would know.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He was thrown into a tent, a small tent, with no furniture or anything else in it. His bindings were tied to a tree in the center of the tent, put into place with nothing than a slight peg. Alric watched carefully as the Tusken whacked it with a hammer a few times, then wandered out of the tent.

It seemed that for now at least he would be left alone.

Alric doubted that in the morning he would be left alone, that was likely when the work would start. He had to make his move by then, he had to get out. He had to find the move that would save his skin. His eyes began to frantically search for something, anything, that he could use to get out. The first thing that he saw was the peg of the bindings, tightly pushed into the earth of the canyon. He scrambled over towards it, inspecting it closely.

He tried to jiggle it loose with his fingers, pulling and pressing on it.

The thing didn't budge.

Alric Frowned, then backed up slightly. He began to kick the peg, his heavy boot ran into the thing over and over again, though once again to no avail. A scowl began to form on his face, and slowly he stood up. The bindings ensure that he could only do so about halfway, and of course backwards. His head shook slightly, and his gaze fell to the tent flaps.

He heard nothing.

A let out a hot breath, then took in a deep one, then once again let it out. Slowly he raised his heart rate, slowly he relaxed, then with all of his might Alric pulled.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S


Unfortunately for Danger, Bahbit wasn't here. He wouldn't return for another six hours. Those were six hours she didn't have. Her lips would purse. Already she was mentally going through her choices.

Stupid good for nuthing Kuhn! This was all his fault! It would serve him right to get taken as a slave by the Raiders. Maybe then he'd learn a lesson or two in humility and his rightful place.

Granted, all these thoughts didn't halt the faint twisting of dread in the base of her belly. She couldn't knowingly let Kuhn suffer whatever he would at the hands of the Raiders.

The owner of Blast-tech going missing was sure going to stir up some waves. She didn't need it told that he disappeared in her turf on her watch.

Nek take it! This was a whole nuther kettle of Giju!

“Chee goot?” she finally would ask what direction Bahbit would be, turning to Ija, the Jawa who'd been giving her information all this time.

“Hy koda hunna hayna." he told her. "Bahbit bahbit wah.” Bahbit would be due north from here.

Right along The Wound.

Great. Karking great!

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He pulled.

That was all there was to it.

No finesse. No smooth moves. Nothing like that. All he did was pull. The rope went tight on his wrists, slicking his hands. The blood began to drip from his skin, and he felt the rough cut of the rope slice into him. His eyes shut and he clamped down on his teeth.

Slick rope coated with blood slowly began to pull the peg out of its spot in the earth, pulling free ever so slightly. Alric set his teeth, and pulled again.

Suddenly he jerked.

The wooden peg ripped free from the bindings sending him flailing and falling onto the cold ground. He clattered to the ground and rolled for a few seconds, smashing his shoulders into the ground and causing him to spasm slightly. A deep shuttering breath escaped him, as though a death rattled has passed over him.

He didn't let the injury stop him, slowly he pushed himself back up, blood dripping from his wrists.

Alric nodded, first step, he was free.

Now he had to get out.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S


The three moons were high in the sky by the time Danger decided it would be foolish to go any further. Her trek to find Bahbit would lead her about six hours north, close to the Wound.

That was heavy Tusken Raider territory.

It would be dumb to go tearing through the night when there would be scouts posted in the canyons as lookouts. To some, the bright moon's light would seem like the perfect time to travel -- but it was also a double edged sword. While it made travel easy, it also flagged movement through the canyons.

She made camp alongside known safe caverns, using the information and clues she traded the Jawas for the location of the scrap salvage where Kuhn had originally been taken.

Rest would come to her, and then she'd wake a couple of hours before dawn. She could make more headway then.

Twenty-four hours with the Raiders.

From the look of his face when she first met him, Danger figured he could at the very least last that long.

If he wasn't stupid.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric began to search the tent. His wrists were sore and slick with blood, but his hands were unbound, that counted for something. Within the darkness he moved, pressing against the sides of the tent, scrambling along the floor, searching for something, anything that he could use. More than once he passed the tent flap, and more than once the temptation to use it and just outright make a break for it nearly caught him

Yet a voice in the back of his mind stopped him.

Then he found it.

At the bottom of the back of the tent he found it. A tear, a tiny little rip smaller than his pink finger. A slip in the strong Bantha hide. Excitement overtook him. A way out!

He grinned, and slowly placed blood thick fingers on either end of the tear.

Alric waited for the longest time, simply holding the tear in place, not doing anything until he began to hear the noises of the camp. He strained, listening for anything on the other side of the tent flap. Guards, people, children, but all he heard were the sounds of the desert night. With a loud breath Alric began to tear the Bantha hide, softly ripping it by applying twists of the material.

It was slow work, and he was sure that it took nearly an hour to rip the thick hide to a place where he could actually fit through it, yet eventually, long after the blood on his wrists had dried Alric found himself outside of his small prison.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S

In her tiny tent within the shelter of the small cave, Danger would listen to the wind howl in the night. It was dark and cold, but she couldn't risk a fire. Not out here.

She was prepared though, her bedroll and sleeping bag well suited for the plummeting temperatures of the desert. Grit and sand was plastered here and there in a thin film on her face, and she was sure that her hair had some as well. Even fully covered with a gaiter, breathing mask, goggles, and scarf, sand would get everywhere. She didn't pay it any mind though.

She was used to it.

A deep exhale would flow from her lips, and she found herself having a very pressing need for a cigarillo. And whiskey. But drinking that out here was a sure way of getting dehydrated quick. Frustration would rise again, and she attempted to think ahead, just like in Dejarik.

What was her next move? And from there, what would be the following five? As a child, her father had sat her down and taught her the game. They would pour over an ancient ivory carved analog board, and battle wits. There was a love of the game for her, something she truly enjoyed.

Now a days, she could only afford to play every now and then. Or more aptly, a long series of games consisting of one at a time. That at least made her smile a bit. Some three years back she discovered a holonet club for Dejarik enthusiasts. In this, the games were set and matched by correspondence, either through a holographic boardgame or through sending responses of moves through holomail. Seeking to find a way to pass the time, Danger enrolled under an alias - M'onnok Fork - and subsequently matched to a fresh game of Dejarik with another player through correspondence - Handsome K'lor'slug.

While the name certainly made her laugh, musing that it would be a quick game she'd win, she was undoubtedly surprised when instead of a quick show of ineptitude, Danger found herself mentally intrigued by the quality of the moves the K'lor'slug sent her over the first few exchanges. As time went on, she found herself looking forward to the rare occasions when the next move would be sent through holomail, respectfully arranging his move while she would take the time to consider what her move should be next.

While the exchange was done solely through correspondence, it has been one of the few interactions she truly looked forward to.

Why couldn't everything else be as simple as that?

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Because life wasn't simple, and neither was escaping from a Tusken Raider camp.

Alric found that out rather quickly.

He had freed himself from the tent and was standing out in the open, his hands covered in dried blood, his wrist sore and throbbing, his muscles tired and his ribs bruised. It was cold out, colder than he had expected. The air was thin and a fine tune of dust swirled about even within the camp. He could hear a few fires raging, the sound of distant conversation.

It was at that moment he realized he had no idea what he was doing.

Alric Kuhn had never sneaked out of anywhere in his entire life. He was bold, boisterous, and always at the forefront of whatever was happening. Sneaking anywhere, sneaking out of places, that wasn't who he was, that wasn't what he did.

As the realization dawned on him so did the light from a flame.

A burst of panic rushed through him and out of pure reaction Alric dashed to the nearest tent. He never thought that the tent might be occupied, that it might hold someone, only that it was shelter from the approaching Tusken Patrol.

What he found however was that the tent was not empty, indeed far from it.

The CEO of Titan Industries rushed into the tent, at least five times larger than his to discover a lavishly decorated inside. Furs, hides, paintings, and a cot sat within the tent, and upon the cot were two fleshy beings, their skin pink and covered with a thin sheen of sweat. Alric was floored, recognizing the pair as distinctly human and spotting the clothes of the chief laying on the floor.

“kark.”

The female screamed.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S


Her mind would continue to wander, until finally she'd shift to her right side. Parts of her body protested, tender areas that were reminders of a surrender. She shut her eyes tightly, banning the subsequent rush of goosebumps in their wake.

Sleep. She needed sleep.

If she was ever to finish this godsforsaken quest to save the hide of a man who would likely end up being more of a pain in her ass than Noxu Za'Tire ever was.

And so, with that thought in place, Danger slept.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

Alric didn't get to sleep, though he would have preferred it. The chief reacted negatively to his intrusion, and his woman even more so. The latter threw things at him, the former picked up his weapon and began to beat Alric in such a senseless way that he could hardly defend himself.

He did of course.

His arms were not for nothing, and a few times as the chief came at him he managed to swing. A punch connected, but with his dehydration, hunger, and the loss of blood from his wrists it was a meager hit, and Alric knew it. He was on the ground before long, the chief ruthlessly striking over and over again, sharped spiked tip of the Gadderfi stick tearing wounds in Alrics flesh, blunt end striking across his ribs and nearly breaking bones.

It was only when Alric passed out that he found that the beating stop.

In unconsciousness Alric found peace, for the first time in five dies. He saw bright sparkling black and red, pink and bright startling green. He saw little spots that had been hidden, Alric found peace, calm.


He awoke, the sudden rush of air entering his lungs. His eyes bulged open, his body shook, and his arms immediately tensed attempting to pull in close and tight into himself to go into a protective stance. Something at his wrists protested and his hands and arms suddenly screamed at him in pain. He let out a cry of agony, and then blinked, trying to clear his vision of sand, pain, and tears.

Alric was on his knee's.

Each hand was tied to a single mast paced the span of his arms apart. He wore no shirt, and his trousers were soiled with blood and sand.

Bright blue eyes looked around him finding Tusken Raiders standing all about. Their cold undefined masks stared at him, each one silent, each one judging. He didn't know what was wrong, he didn't remember. His eyes blinked again, and he shook his head trying desperately to remember. It was then that he noticed the crack of something behind him, the shifting of the sands.

Alric stretched his neck, looking behind him.

There stood the chief, dressed in those oddly different Tusken Garbs. Alrics eyes didn't focus on him however, no, instead they found what was in his hand. There a long braided Bantha whip. Alric gaped at it, and then he remembered.

“No. No. No. Listen. No. It was an accident.”

The whip unfurled from the chiefs hands.

“No. You can't. You gotta listen.”

The snap of the whip backwards.

“I know you can unde-”

A howl of pain broke his words.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S

Danger awoke before the withering dawn. It didn't take long to take down her tent and pack everything back up on her speeder. Quickness was a necessity out here in No Man's land. Otherwise, it left someone up to the risk of being spotted. She may look like a Tusken Raider herself with the swath of desert clothing, breathing mask, and goggles, but she was still alone out in the canyon.

A blaster rifle was positioned close to her for easy pick up once she got onto the speeder, adjusting her goggles for lowlight vision until the suns would break.

She had a Jawa to find. Then, perhaps figure out exactly how to get Kuhn out of the clutches of whatever Tusken Raider tribe had claimed him.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He had felt pain before.

He had had broken bones, smashed muscles, pulled tendons, torn ligaments, hell he'd even had an eyeball pop out of his head once. This was something else, this was something different. This was...this was agony. The stroke of leather through his skin, the cut of hard wrapped Bantha hide into his muscle. The stinging burn of it, the tugging away at his flesh.

It was pure and unadulterated pain.

For Alric, this was no longer part of the game. This was someone taking the board and flipping it over, this was a destruction of everything he held dear, of everything he held close, of everything that was supposed to have happened.

The fifth lash struck him, and Alric began to fade.

His mind slowed, his thoughts moved to a crawl. His usual sharp wit and eidetic memory left him, his consciousness pushed to the edge. His mind scattered and fractured. The pain took him in ravaging delights, etching into his very soul. Tears began to stream down his face, and his body simply gave in, simply stopped.

Alric couldn't think.

How had this happened?

Why was he here?

How could he have been this stupid?

His mind raced. He looked for an answer. Why did he come here? Why had he subjected himself to this. Alric saw red flash in front of his eyes, crimson erupting from something. It was flung from his back and in front of his face. It flashed through the air, landing on the sands before him.

Red.

Danger.

 

[Danger Arceneau]

[background=#232323]T A T O O I N E [/background]
[background=#232323]J U N D L A N D W A S T E S[/background]


It took a bit longer to find Bahbit, but once she managed to track down the wandering Jawa Merchant, things began to speed up quick.

He had a massive bantha packed to the brim with his trade goods, the small Jawa making his contribution to his Jawa clan by sticking to traveling between the outposts. A little daring yes, but Bahbit also had the perk of being well known between the larger Tusken Raider clans. They knew that through Bahbit they were able to trade salvage and acquired wares for other goods. The Tusken Raider emblem on the large leather skin, allowing him safe passage.

"M’um m’aloo. Eyeta." his chipper little voice would call down to her as she would slow down her speeder.

"Hoohoohoo haahaa. Nengo bah.” she began, asking if he would be willing to give her some information.

"Guak wa Neenee Cha Ba?" Their bright yellow eyes under their tiny brown cloaks glowing bright.

"Steika Ba!" Danger answered. Followed by, "Zookeyneee Wa Na Be -- Arceneau." Again, the introduction that she worked for Arceneau, “Hey de die hy degada dagada degadada?" that the woman was looking for a man. The general description would follow from what she remembered of Kuhn.

"Bowa Arceneau Zootaneenee!" He would tell her, confirming that business with the red haired big chested woman would do good -- and if she would know if Arceneau would be interested in buying some of his wares.

She would confirm, and for his trouble -- and ask again about the man, only this time, digging into her pack to pull out a very shinny looking metal contraption the size of a small box. It was a moisture detector.

The Jawa suddenly had a keen interest in what was in her hand.

"Go mob un loo? Mob un loo? Etee uwanna waa."

He wanted to buy it. He wanted to trade for it. Good, she got him.

"Yukusu kenza keena." Let's make a deal. “Hoo gagagaga hy, tareeba tareeba." she said she was willing to trade the detector for information.

He considered this proposal, his bright yellow eyes going from her, to the detector, back to her.

"Ibana " He agreed.

Never say Danger Arceneau didn't know exactly what to offer in a business deal.

 

[Alric Kuhn]

What was this?

What was happening?

A surge of pain rushed from his back, the tenth lash.

He couldn't actually feel it anymore. He couldn't feel the pain. There was only a mind numbing sensation of...otherness. He felt as though he were floating outside of his body, his mind detached from his conscious self floating through thought. What had he been thinking about? What was it that he had remembered? Was it a name? Was it a person? A color?

Red.

Spots.

He remembered little spots. He remembered feeling a delight as he saw them, a feeling of joy, but why did he remember little spots? Why did he remember being happy? When was the last time he had been happy? When was the last time he had actually enjoyed something? When he had felt that the game didn't need to be played?

Violet, Fiona.

Those were the names carved into his flesh. The ink that lay riding across his shoulder, thankfully untouched by the whip.

He remembered them even now, their faces. One blonde and blue eyed, happy and always smiling, the other with raven black and dark grassy green, always thin limped. Violet and Fiona, his sisters. Now dead.

That was the last time he had been happy. That was the last time he had not needed to play the game to keep going.

The game.

He had to play the game.

The lash struck him once more, then again, then one last time. Fifteen in total. His back was carved with deep strips of removed flesh, his entire body ached, blood poured from him, his head swirled, and his senses all turned into colors. He didn't see anymore, he didn't smell anymore, he didn't feel anymore, there was simply colors.

Why did he remember little spots?

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S


A'Shar R'orr.

Kuhn had managed to get claimed by A'Shar R'orr. Things just went from bad to worse. There would be no trading for Kuhn, no sweet talking or threatening of A'Shar.

Not with A'shar the Bloody.

Bahbit gave her as much information as she could, even the location of the fortress where A'Shar R'orr's tribe lay. Yet this was not done without a hefty warning.

One doesn't stir the wrath of A'Shar.

This wasn't just not going to be easy. It was going to be damn near fething impossible.

Karking Kuhn!

 

[Alric Kuhn]

He didn't notice them picking him off the two pillars and dragging him through the sands. He didn't notice the fine grains of rock digging into his already broken flesh, he didn't notice any of it.

Alric was fixated.

His eyes were cast in front of him, his head tilted back looking towards the two figures that were dragging him so callously through the sands. His back would surely see infection, his body would suffer, and his mind would continue to be broken. Yet right now Alric didn't care. His eyes was sorely on those two figures.

Though they were Tuskens to everyone else, he saw something different.

Instead of two drab brown figured dragging him through the sands, they were two beautiful young women.

Violet and Fiona.

They smiled at him, laughed at him, encouraged him to come along. They both held one of his arms, pulling him towards something, pulling him forward through a field. His head shook, and he heard their voices ringing in his ears. They spoke to him, Violet laughing and giggling, Fiona grinning at him and speaking in that delightfully raspy voice of hers.

They pushed him, encouraged him.

What did they want?

What were they pushing him towards? What were they?

A sudden impacting thud made his sisters disappear into whisps of smoke. The two Tusken Raiders had thrown Alric onto the gold hard ground of a tent, his wounds bleeding, granules of sand sitting within the deep cuts. The dull throbbing ache of the wounds cutting through his nightmarish hallucinations.

A woman bent over him, or he thought it was a woman, slowly wrapping bandages, not cleaning or even disinfecting the wound, simply stopping the bleeding.

He wanted to ask her something, he wanted to speak, to yell, to thrash.

Yet all he could think to say was.

“Little hidden spots.”

 

[Danger Arceneau]

T A T O O I N E
J U N D L A N D W A S T E S
Early morning


A two hour ride up north would take her deeper into the canyons and beside the Wound. The Wound was a deep chasm located in the middle of the Jundland Wastes of Tatooine. This bottom of the site was impossible to see from the upper ridge, while the rim of the location was filled with camps of Sand People. The Sand People seemed to had shown a reverence towards the Wound and were occasionally seen casting their dead into its depths.

Hopefully Kuhn wasn't part of their dead just yet.

It will be another eight hours before dusk; she couldn't do anything personally until then. Her mind had been racing the past couple of hours trying to come up with a way to managed to get into the Fortress and get Kuhn out. A'Shar wasn't the type to take to visitors, and needless to say, his appreciation of women who were not storytellers wasn't so high on the list.

No, if anything she'd have to work under the cover of darkness for her plan. It was likely a very risky plan, but it was the only one she could think of as of yet.

And it required the use of a glow stick. A lightsaber would be better, but a lightfoil with the same kind of glow would work. Bahbit's collection of salvage material produced that lightsaber, likely plucked from the cold hard hands of some dead Templar.

It was a comical sight to see Danger precariously activate it, the weightlessness of it startling her into dropping it on the sand.

This was a horrible idea.

She knew it -- but what else was she supposed to do in order to impersonate a vengeful ghost or desert demon?

One that Tusken Raider oral history said had killed an entire tribe of Tusken Raiders with a stick of light.