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“Not everyone on Coruscant lives in a luxurious temple on the surface.” ― Asajj Ventress
For the inhabitants of the gleaming cloudcutters, skytowers and superskytowers – the latter reaching as much as two kilometres high – the sun was something taken for granted, just as were the other comforts of life.
But hundreds of stories below the first inhabited floors of the great towers, ziggurats, and minarets, in some places actually on or under the city-planet’s surface, it was another story. Here hundreds of thousands of humans and other species lived and died, sometimes without ever catching as much as a glimpse of the fabled sky, let alone feel the sun on their faces.
But hundreds of stories below the first inhabited floors of the great towers, ziggurats, and minarets, in some places actually on or under the city-planet’s surface, it was another story. Here hundreds of thousands of humans and other species lived and died, sometimes without ever catching as much as a glimpse of the fabled sky.
For here, the light that filtered through the omnipresent grey inversion layer was wan and pallid. And that suited Jantar – the shadows made travelling less complicated. Once she appreciated the anonymity because she was helpless. Now she wanted to remain incognito because she had power.
It seemed the role of prey never left anyone in the galaxy — save a precious few. What changed was the size of the predator. Whereas once she would have feared two or three thugs, now she was wary in case she ran into a Jedi Master, or a competent Bounty Hunter — for the Sith of today had enemies the young girl of yesterday could only have had nightmares about.
Jax reclined with his feet up on his desk. Restlessness had set in days ago. No new jobs, no new bounties, no new fun. Just as he felt he could bear it any longer he recieved a message on his data pad. A new bounty was up. Someone wanted Sith blood, bad. They were willing pay a small fortune on the return of dead sith lightsabers. Jax hesitated, he had never taken on a sith. He didn't know if he could go toe to toe with a force user. He needed this bounty if he was going to gain some reputation. He glanced at his own lightsaber holstered on his belt. Maybe this was meant to be. He slung his slugthrower rifle across his back, grabbed his vibroknife, and went to his contacts dwelling.
This was a euphemistic name for an ongoing rowdy street fair on the 17th Level of an area in Sector 4X05, also known as the Zi-Kree Sector, along the equatorial strip. That was the name given to the upper levels, anyway; down here, below the layer of smoke and fog, it was simply called the Crimson Corridor.
While much of Coruscant’s lower levels comprised less-than-desirable real estate, some areas were loci of particular and concentrated trouble. The Southern Underground, the Factory District, The Works, the Blackpit Slums – these and other colourful names did little justice to the harsh realities of life under the perpetual smog layer that hid them from the rarefied upper levels. Yet ironically, it was only in ghettos like these, amid despair and desperation, that a measure of anonymity and security could be found.
The Crimson Corridor was in the Third Quadrant of the Zi-Kree sector. It was one of the oldest areas of the vast planetary metropolis, overbuilt with skyscrapers and towers constructed long ago. The buildings towered so tall and so thick that some areas of the Corridor received only a few minutes of sunlight a day. Jantar remembered hearing legends of inbred subhuman tribes living in the near-total darkness of its depths for so long that they had gone genetically blind.
But darkness was the least of the dangers in the Corridor. Far worse were the things, both human and nonhuman, that lived in the darkness and preyed on the unwary.
Jantar was sitting at the bar near the back of a tavern not far from one end of the infamous Crimson Corridor section of the city.
Why was she here? For action. If no missions presented themselves, she would come here. She looked at her datapad — to check recent crimes in the area. Not surprisingly, hundreds of incidents popped up for the last few hours in the Crimson Corridor: street fights, petty theft, other common crimes.
She was looking for something more. Something worthy of breaking a sweat over.
In his contacts safehouse, Jax took a drink from a bottle of foul tasting liquor. "I need a location on someone. Do you have any way of tracking a Sith?" Jax inquired, leaning forward in his seat.
His contact, a young Rodian, looked at him incredulously. "Why would you ever, ever, ever need me to do that. I don't know what you have planned, but I don't like it. I knew having that lightsaber would go to your head. What do you think your some kind of Jedi Knight do-gooder. Off to kill some Sith lords, no big deal."
Jax smirked, "I don't pay you to ask questions." "You don't pay me at all, last week you said you would burn my house down if i didn't help", said the Rodian. "I wouldn't even know how to begin doing that. I mean... I have been seeing reports of some force user running around taking down a couple of the guys down on the Crimson Corridor. Definitely not a Jedi. You can see that from her victims. You might even get her attention if your making big enough waves over there."
Jax was staring off, and his smirke turned to a grin as he formulated a plan. "You're getting that look again. I hate when you get that look."
Jax stood and left without a word taking the bottle with him. "That's my Jet Juice!!!!"
It wasn't a terribly early hour this deep in down-level Coruscant where few acknowledged either day or night, but most sentients seemed to agree that some hours were impolite for creating a scene.
Jantar rose and left the inn. When was she ever accused of being polite?
She stood in the narrow cleft beneath a support pier and peered out at the rabble in the bazaar below her. It was dark, noisome, and anonymous.
She glanced up and down the overrun bazaar. Shadow and light danced in an ever-changing roil of smoke from cookpots and braziers; multicoloured lights strung along kiosks twinkled and winked to tempt the eye and draw in the potential customers who thronged the thoroughfare. There was no sign of who she had come for – they made a point of remaining incognito.
It would seem that the sheer staggering volume of sentients, human and otherwise, that populated the cityplanet would afford more than enough protection for the individual who sought a lifetime of anonymity. Coruscant was home to literally trillions of beings from across the length and breadth of the galaxy, and finding a single one among them all was more difficult by far than finding a single grain of sand on Tatooine, Jakku, and all the other desert worlds combined. Hidden in the teeming multitude, Jantar’s prey was safe – as long as he didn't use the Force.
Which was no more difficult than, say, swallowing white hot lava – if you were a rogue Jedi.
Jantar’s gaze wandered back to a kiosk some twenty meters distant, at which several shoppers were haggling with the vendor over the assortment of produce – most of it illegal.
She stepped out onto the street as a hover-lorry approached, sucking herself tightly up against a stained and pitted support girder that had been erected to shore up the ruined facade of what had once been a spice den.
The she sensed it – and began to move. Slowly at first, seeking to remain incognito, then she picked up pace and ran, aware her prey might leave before she had time to encounter him.
Up ahead, people fled from something that was going on farther up the block near the corner with a main cross-street.
Jantar saw a display of the Force that shot brilliant ribbons and pinwheels of power in every direction – an explosion of variegated energy.
She checked the street for angles of egress. She did not want to be seen coming – or even sensed. The buttresses of the buildings were her best chance of that. So she worked her way down a back alley toward the comer.
Jax was no saint by any means, but outright cop murder was not usually on his to do list. He had perched himself on a rooftop, with two of his men holding slugthrower rifles. He watched with his good eye as an Underworld Police patrol walked through the street. He wondered why the police even came through the Crimson Corridor.
"Proud little buggers in those fancy uniforms." He said sarcastically.
He counted four, this was gonna be something. He was gonna turn this street into a warzone. That Sith wouldn't be able to miss it. He made a gesture and leapt off of the roof. Scraping the wall with his mechanical arm he caught a ledge, then dropped the rest of the way.
"Don't you know this block belongs to The Muertos?" Jax shouted.
Just as the officers turned to see who was making a commotion one of them dropped from a slug. Jax's theatrics were necessary to rile these officers up. They ran for cover hiding behind various carts and vendor stands. Civilians went running in every direction. Disappearing into their various homes. Jax pulled a blaster pistol and began firing, tagging an officer in the leg. He was quickly finished off by the rooftop shooters. Jax didn't get to use his lightsaber often. It drew too much attention. For this it was perfect. He ran across the street ducked below blaster fire, narrowly missing his head. He activated his lightsaber as he approached a vendor's cart. He cleaved it in half. The officer watched fearfully, awash in the red glow as Jax cut him down to. The last officer began retreating. Jax made chase. His shooters would soon be out of range. As he closed the distance he holstered his weapon and threw his body at the officer. As they rose Jax's cybernetic hand was clasped around the mans throat with a vice-like grip. As he squeezed he lifted the man in the air. Eventually he stopped kicking. He was left in the street like a piece of discarded trash. Jax waltzed back to his shooters, surveying the scene. The street indeed looked like a warzone. His shooters climbed off of the building. "You can go back to the cantina, you probably don't want to be here for this." They nodded too shaken by Jax's ferocity to speak and ran before more authorities came. Jax waited with a smile, this might be his worst plan yet
As Jantar progressed, she sensed something wrong. Nothing she could put her finger on, but the Force was — for want of a better description — acting up. It was as if it were warning her. But what it was saying, or what it was giving her advanced notice of, she had no idea. But, better warned vaguely than not warned at all she mused.
Before she could continue, she nearly tripped over a corpse lying in the shadow of a recessed doorway. When Jantar tripped, it was either unconscious or dead. By the time she stepped over it, it was definitely dead — the smell of cauterised flesh almost an improvement of the odour of the back alley.
At the same rime, an argument was quickly escalating into a fight. Two pulled vibroblades and circled each other warily, looking for openings. Then, abruptly, both weapons weapons clattered to the floor, both still attached to their owner’s hands. Jantar was in no mood for distractions tonight. The Force had made her wary and wary made her even more ruthless than normal. The miscreants disappeared into the darkness in opposite directions.
Sighing audibly, she picked up her pace and headed to where the rogue Force user was — his aura a beacon in this cesspit.
Jax waited atop the wreckage of the vendors. He checked his slugthrower rilfe to make sure he didn't grab the one that always jammed. Civilians began to peak their heads out their windows, quickly retreating at the sight of the Jax's painted face. He knew he would have to leave soon. The Underworld Police will be on him soon.
Finally, Jantar stepped out into the skyway that terminated in the plaza where the rogue Jedi was ‘performing.’ He was a peacock. Jantar began to wonder if he was to be a worthy adversary after all.
What was the saying? ‘Barking dogs don't bite, but they themselves don't know it.’
Perhaps this Force user’s show was little more than that. Against rank and file civilians, or even street cops, he had an edge. But was he someone who would lift Jantar’s abilities through opposition?
She strode along with studied confidence. People who passed her, now heading in the opposite direction at various speeds, tilted their heads in deference to her apparent station and moved on. Not one of them raised their eyes to try to see her face within the obscuring cowl of her robe. Sghe exuded a confidence that awed to the extent that most deliberately averted their gaze.
And she could not shake off the feeling that she was being watched. Or, was about to be.
She swept the area with tendrils of Force. She found the rogue Jedi. It was a weak aura, but it was there – up ahead.
So Jantar moved slowly and confidently along the front of the buildings, continuing to scan as she went. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing. Then, abruptly, she sensed a signature of coiled strength. Dark strength – as black and hard and gleaming as granite. Not a Jedi. Nor a Sith – but power none the less. And close by.
Jantar looked up and scanned the rooftops. If the owner of the aura wasn’t on the ground, that didn’t leave too many options.
As Jax waited he began to get impatient. Maybe this so called Sith wasn't as powerful as he thought. He lit a deathstick and let it hang from his lips. He heard sirens far off. Authorities were almost there, it might be time to make his exit soon.
The Force was powerful, but it only told you so much. And right now, Jantar's eyesight was able to determine things from further away than her Force senses.
So, as she walked and scanned the building, she caught the image of a flame in her peripheral vision. I lasted only a few moments and was gone. Without directly looking at the source, she continued to walk and paid close attention to the roof-top. Sure enough, she saw a faint glow - then a pause - then another faint glow.
Somebody was smoking death sticks. Not in itself a reason to engage them but there were too many coincidences now for Jantar to ignore. The dead bodies, clearly taken out with slug-throwers. The maths of the equation said they'd been taken out from a height. Somebody was watching from a height. Not necessarily for her, but they were watching, none the less.
So she decided to find out.
She walked into the middle of the street and looked up, throwing back the hood of her robe at the same time, revealing her light red hair - currently cut into a bob. And she stared up now, defiantly.
And if that wasn't enough to gain attention, she removed her saber hilt from her belt and activated it - a yellow beam of energy igniting with a snap-hiss.
Jax's opponent finally made an appearance. She walked through the street with a raw confidence that demanded attention. Her black robes awash with yellow light against her lightsaber. Jax threw his deathstick down as the woman challenged him with a forceful look. He liked the look of this one. She was intimidating, confident, beautiful, and downright scary. This should be even more fun than his theatrics on the street beforehand.
Without a word Jax immediately took aim with his slugthrower and began unloading. The muzzled flashed bright with a boom and let loose a volley of slugs as Jax squeezed the trigger. He took a step forward in between his shots slowly advancing.
Jantar was not particularly proud – and she was not conceited – at least not in a way that most Sith were. She had a vanity that related to her looks and she refused to travel in any way short of first-class – but that was because she had a taste for the high life, so why compromise? But she’d slummed it in barren dormitories on Sith carriers and trudged through swamps at her master’s behest.
But when it came to truly importan things – like life and death, Jantar was entirely pragmatic. And realistic too.
Her master had given her two pieces of excellent advice that came to the forefront of her mid right now. The first was never to underestimate non-Force users. Too many Sith, her master had advised, saw NFUs as a lesser class. Not worthy of recognition, and therefore not worthy of seeing as a potential threat. Typically to their cost.
Whereas Jantar liked to pit herself against fellow ‘Forcies’ she never shirked from facing a truly challenging foe that could not connect to the natural energy that flowed though all living things. For a start, they were invariably more imaginative.
And the second piece of advice? It was even more pertinent. Unlike blaster bolts, rapid-fire slugthrowers are impossible to completely deflect with a lightsaber. So she didn’t bother.
In a split second, her saber was attached to her belt and she was mobile, spinning cartwheels and performing flips – in part fuelled by the Force. But she was an Acolyte and not able to utilise the energy like a seasoned campaigner. But her bone structure was genetically conducive to such acrobatics and she avoided the slugs as she closed the gap to a point where she’d present enough of a threat that he’d cease the volley and she could chat – and gauge the value of this miscreant as an opponent.
Oh, and strike the comment about avoiding all of the slugs. One grazed her thigh and another her cheek. As she reached the young man, she stood to face him, and a hand snaked up to her cheek and her finger touched the blood that was oozing from the wound. She placed the tip of the finger in her mouth and savoured the metallic taste. And the pain – she loved the pain – it fuelled her connection to the Force so well. Second only to fear – now that supercharged her abilities.
Jax had never fought a force user. He knew she would be fast, but this opponent was lightning quick. She closed the distance before he even emptied the mag. Jax was a skilled fighter, he had been fighting since he was young, it was like he didn't have to think. To him fighting was completely instinctual, but this left his defense slightly open.
He knew she would probably know to avoid the slugs. He noticed she had still gotten tagged a couple time, she must still be in training. He activated his own lightsaber. A red light fell over the entire street, giving his painted face a more ominous look.
Pace and grace were two of Jantar’s virtues. Her fast mouth was at times a blessing and at others a vice. It all depended on who she was facing — and what mood they were in.
Jantar smiled. She had an edge — a significant one — she was naturally blessed with the ability of Farsight. At times this allowed her to gain impressions of events happening in other places or times. Typically this occurred whist she slept or was in deep meditation.
Its additional benefit was in combat. It allowed her to glimpse moves her opponent was going to make, as well as outside forces that might affect the fight. And given Force users appeared to have lightning reflexes anyway — this was all in her favour.
But predicting was one thing, doing something with the information was another. Her master had been training her to defend primarily, to stop her dying. It was clearly a very useful weapon to have in the armoury, but it had limitations — especially against strong opponents who might overpower her.
“And you’re cute,” she replied. He was, in a rough and ready kind of way. To her, power and confidence were attractive qualities. “As well as intriguing. Do you really know how to use that thing?”
" I don't need fancy powers to swing a sword." He knew he was at a disadvantage training wise. Street fights only toughened you up so much, but there was a difference between tough and skillful. His opponent was so calm. Talking in the middle of a fight with such an aloof attitude. It's what many of Jax's enemies hated about him. Oh now he definitely liked her. He would almost feel bad when he claimed her saber. "There's a bounty on Sith and it seems you've found yourself in the wrong neighborhood. All I have to do is bring your weapon to them and it's my payday."
“You would say that,” Jantar said. “I mean, anyone can swing one — it’s entirely something else to wield one effectively. You see, due to the weightlessness of the blade and the strong gyroscopic effect generated by it, to trust master a saber, you need to be attuned to the Force.”
“In my hands, it is more than just a karking stick that glows. It is an extension of me — for I am the weapon, not the saber. Because a Sith might lose their saber, and if they see this as their weapon, it means they’re defenseless. But me? You can’t disarm me…see?”
“And as for the bounty? I hope you haven’t spent it, because you see…you’re going to be very disappointed.”
And with that, she snaked out hand and grabbed the blade of his saber. She was proficient in Tutaminis and could absorb the energy of the blade, for as long as she could channel the Force. She could not do it indefinitely, but then, she had no intention to. But as party tricks went, it was an excellent attention grabber.
Jax's eyes widened in disbelief as she grabbed the blade of his weapon, but without giving himself time to think he grabbed her hand in a tight grip and swung at her with his prosthetic. He had never heard of this ability and it threw him off slightly, but he didn't fight by thinking he only reacted. She had claimed she was a weapon even without her saber. He had the same thinking when he installed his cybernetics. The two foes had similar thought processes although they had been cut from two very different cloths.
"You're hands are too soft to be from around here. Probably live in some kind of palace up in the clouds. So you found out you could use the force, and thought it would be fun to play with the poor kids. Well it's dark down here princess even those powers couldn't prepare you for me. No powers it is."
Coruscant. A planet of both overwhelming wealth on the surface, and vicious crime and poverty beneath it. It teemed with life. With secrets.
With memories.
She had been free for some time now, getting a lay of the land. By the Force the galaxy had gone completely over the edge. She was not surprised, in truth...it had been heading that way even before this terrible affliction had claimed her. She had stalked the space ways for the past week or so, never staying still too long. Coruscant had had her occupied as she had come here in secret, having stowed away aboard a ship and fed off the memories and thoughts of the oblivious crew, who could never figure out where the bite marks kept coming from only as they had gotten close to Coruscant had they begun to suspect. But her attacks on them had been strategic, the feedings both short and taking only those thoughts and memories that would not be missed, as well as the actual memory of being ambushed and fed on. Everytime had been the first time for the crew. She had tried to be gentle about it, to try and avoid hurting them permanently, avoiding biting too hard or too deep with sharp black fangs, that glistened like those of a good sized spider, The eyes were about as unsettling: Two slightly translucent obsidian orbs with an eerie purple glow at the center, obscured by the flower print hood of her ceremonial robes, a mix of green shades and white flowers on a fabric dyed in norris root. She had slipped off the slow cargo vessel with a confused, but ultimately none the wiser, save for the bite marks, which had started freaking them out.
And so she had hidden here, trying to figure out what her next move was. To plan out her future, and those of her..."people" going forward.
The six and a half foot woman moved through the
Crimson Corridor scoping out isolated marks for feeding later. There were so many and this overbuilt, overcrowded haven of scum got so little sunlight...it was the perfect hunting ground for her. Her nose wrinkled at the vile smell of sex and drugs wafting out of every unnamed hovel passing for a private club that places like this contained. So many people in the lower parts had so many vices and ills plaguing them that they wouldn't notice a few minutes in their head become an indefinite blank. They lost that much time as it was drinking and gambling. She recited that to herself every day, hoping that the concept would one day no longer be quite so repellant.
She made no sound as she moved through these old streets. Perfect feeding ground. You could operate here for years undetected. A single feeding of sufficient quality could provide her nourishment to last weeks, but it would require feeding on the truly rich, irreplaceable stuff. The precious stuff. No. It would have been abhorrent. Better that memory of a pretty bird one saw as it flew by the other day. The sensation one got as they ate the last bite of that sandwich. The pleasant sound of the happy bark one's dog gave as you entered the house that morning. Stuff like that. Didn't provide much nourishment but it kept her tattered concience at least somewhat presentable. She hoped that was the case, at least.
The sounds were liud and clanging. She paradoxically longed for true physical darkness and quiet, even as she knew she needed to feed at least three more times on scores of weak memories and thoughts before she would be satisfied.
Her robes, the outer tunic of which never quite touching the ground caused a strange effect that made it seem to onlookers that the strikingly tall woman was not walking so much as gliding past them. The lack of sound the woman made as she did so, coupled with the way her arms simply hung by her side as she walked, her weapons secured to the left of her waist as she walked, only highlighted how odd it looked. She had already spotted some young hoodlum. Scrawny, looked like he would easily be entranced by her beauty enough to let her get close. She had been following him for half an hour. Her mental stomach already gurgling, not yet sated. She'd take only a few hour's worth. He had to have a few hours worth of stuff he would not miss.
In any case, its not like he would even remember the feeding, so that'd be a small mercy.
The Woman was about to make a move, when something spooked him. Something spooked a ton of people, because she heard shooting and two strong flares of dark energy so strong she could feel them even in this distance. The more focused flare of power she guessed belonged to a sith, while the blunter feeling presence belonged to what seemed to be one of many dark things she found lingering in this pit. Two potential targets. Never mind the scrawny merc. She caught a Sith she could just about fill up on one. She had tasted a birthday memory once. Her own memory of the mental 'taste' still made her mouth water. Stealing a happy memory from a Sith?
The chance was too good to pass up. The blunt presence...she guessed they were fighting one another. Else it would have been quiet.
The woman glided to the feeling of battle, sticking to the shadows, even as others fled from the very same direction. She kept her distance as she watched through a distant alley, though she got ever closer.
Her hand clutched her ancient katana, Hundred Handed Giant, its ivory carved hilt and dragon head pommel cold against olive flesh, as she drew it from its dark scabbard, its stainless, silvery gleam drawing out the pattern riding its edge, which resembled rings of wood. She heard them, saw them as she approached and had to make a decision. The blunter presence did not feel like a Sith as she got within a proper enough radius. As dulled as her force sense was she at least knew that, though trying to sense out its intricacies was too taxing for her in that regard. On the other hand this likely meant he did not have the same breadth of knowledge the Sith probably possessed. As she finally came upon them, seemingly finding time to talk, a part of her snorted as she stepped out boldly while the strange looking man had finished talking. Her height looking even more ominous in the faint light of the streets beyond and the glow of their lightsabers, only the gleam from her Katana truly bright as the light reflecting off it. She noiselessly turned her head to the man, watching, observing his cybernetics. Don't get too close, she thought, the hood shifting a bit in the darkness, revealing the unsettling purple gleam from the center of her eyes.
"My deepest apologies for the interruption, young man." The woman said, her voice a throaty contralto. "But I could not help but notice how..."
The woman's whole body noiselessly shifted towards the other woman. Though her face was not visible yet, if one stared hard they would have managed to just barely make out the outlines of a very nasty smile under two unsettling purple dots of light.
"...delicious she looks." the woman said pointedly to what she knew now to be a sith, her contralto dropping an octave deeper.
"You seem like a very enterprising young man." She said to the man with a ghost of the concept of amusement in her tone. "Working class. Would you consent to my..."
A deep, dark chuckle escaped the hooded woman's throat.
"Assistance?" she finally got around to asking. "I'll let you kill her if that's what you want. I just want to have a...look."
It said public in the prefixes. If you need me to edit let me know. Otherwise, Hi!
And if I’m quiet until Tuesday, don’t mind me, I’ll be back
Many things happened in a relatively short period. The Force had a way of allowing those that chose to serve it – or command it – to somehow slow the passage of time in such a way as to enable a greater opportunity to take in details others might miss. This was, of course, supplemented by the additional sense a Jedi or Sith had. Through the Force, Jantar could see, smell, hear, taste and even touch her surroundings. She may not be a seasoned veteran, so her range was limited and she had to concentrate a little harder to take in all of the detail – but it was there, low-hanging fruit if you just chose to pluck it.
And Jantar grabbed a handful.
So her senses – both natural and Force-affected, were presented with the things she’d expect to find here – for she’d spent an inordinate amount of time in the chasms that too many called home. She was used to the variegated pulsing of phosphor lights and signs, stone mites, conduit worms, and other scavengers.
She took in her stride the large mass of surging, pushing, irritated, hurrying, frantic beings representing every species that was used to traveling between the stars.
She accepted - and even embraced – the fact that down her was where the jetsam of the galaxy, a motley collection of sentients dismissed by those above simply as ‘the underdwellers,’ eked out lives of brutality and despair. It was a kind of jungle.
And where there's a jungle, there are always those who hunt.
As she engaged with the strange but appealing young man, the Force kept tapping on her shoulder. It was annoying after a while, she was here…toe to toe with him…so why the warning?
And then, in the periphery of her senses, she understood. And she paid attention. But she could not be too distracted, or else she’d be dead before she found out just what threat this interloper could bring to the party. And Jantar wanted to see if the newcomer had brought any gifts. Or party hats – Jantar loved party hats.
“Soft hands?” Jantar echoed, her voice just above a whisper and as smooth as silk – it was as if she was lying on her bed, sharing sweet nothings with her lover.
Then he changed tactics. One hand grabbed her wrist and the other swung at her. She dropped the saber, and the hilt clattered to the floor. She’d recently fought a duel as part of some Sith tournament – and she’d been chained to her opponent, so she had recent experience of fighting up close and personal. It was not her preferred style – she could not use her pace and footwork to good effect at this proximity, but her experience had put her in good stead.
So as his hand swung in, she channelled the Force through her body and out through her hands. One was already in contact with the hoodlum, and the other she grabbed at his wrist as he swung it at her. She’d take the hit – but swung her head back so as to limit the force of the blow. With any luck it would be a glancing blow to her cheek.
And the Force she was channelling? It would not kill him, it was Force Lightning – but she had enough control (and practice) to be able to push just enough into him to make it hurt. And potentially fry any cybernetic systems in the process. The only tell-tale signs of what she was doing were small tendrils of red lightning arcing from her fingertips to his hands.
And all the while, she was taking in the presence that was edging ever closer. No…not edging…gliding. For the robed woman was the true reason for the Force warning. How did Jantar know she was a woman? Intuition. There was a feline grace to her movement – despite her height. The silence of her approach added to the metaphor.
And then Jantar caught sight of a blade – something entirely corporeal – that reflected the hues of the sabers.
As Jantar took the blow to her cheek, she looked the woman in the face – or rather the shadowed recess of her hood. Her eyes were hidden but there was an eerie and unsettling purple glow from them. Theatrics or cybernetics – or even some natural phenomenon? Jantar was sure she was about to find out.
And despite the potential gravity of the situation, Jantar’s mouth typically ran away with itself.
“Kill me? Kill karkin’ me?” Despite the language, her voice placed her at the very upper echelons of Coruscant society – literally as well as metaphorically – she no doubt inhabited one of the monoliths that actually saw sunlight.
“Whatever happened to the sisterhood? Damsels together. Girl power, that kind of druk?”
