<B>Morning before the journey toward Naboo.</b>

Alone in his room, fresh and clean from the shower after his workout, Zuinlan Vos sat in the middle of his room wearing only a loose robe. His legs were crossed and knotted, ankles over thighs, his back straight, in a meditative position. His hands rested, palms down, on his knees; his eyes were open, but unfocused. He breathed slowly, drawing up the air in through his nostrils and whirling it deep into his belly, then expelling it slowly through his lips.

Force meditation was, for him, one of the more relaxing of his exercises. It helped to clear his mind and be focused on the more important things. It also helped him to deal with the everyday situations that came at hand in the field, especially when it dealt with straight combat with his adversaries. This time, though, his mind refused to clear, and no matter how long or hard he concentrated, the news given to him by the High Regent couldn't be released from his head.

<I>Why am I being paired with this woman Syren? She may have the experience, but she is only going to keep me restricted from using my skills in getting the job done. How can the High Regent trust this woman who just emerged from Coruscant? She may be a spy infiltrating, or even worse-- attempting to ascend her way to a higher position in the Imperium to gain control...</i>

Those thoughts chased each other through the corridors of his mind like hawkbats, chittering inanely.

The thought of this announcement at the party released a flood of mixed emotions. Back on Tund where he was trained by the High Priests, Vos had thought of himself as an average Sorceror, a little more adept than some, a little less so than others. Not brilliant, but not particularly stupid, either. His Order had told him this was part of the limitations Zuinlan had put upon himself.

And now, here he was, on his first mission outside of the sphere of influence from the Black Dragon Empire, with a woman that he did not trust.

<I>Well, perhaps this is an opportunity to prove to myself than I am better or at least made improvements in my training. We'll then see who the better Force wielder is when I bring the Holocrons to the High Regent, and the Order of the Socerors of Tund.</i>

But for now, he should get ready and bring himself to meet Syren at the doorstep to her quarters. For all he knew, she may have the same feelings toward him. It wasn't his problem if this was so.

Unknotting himself from his position on the floor, Zuinlan Vos stood and began to change into the garb of the Sorcerors, reviewing his equipment and weaponry, starting with his dark spider-silk armor, a material capable of resisting even a vibroblade's thrust. It was armor that did not look like armor-- to the uninitiated. Experts would spot it, of course, but he didn't expect to run into any opposition, yet. He clipped the lightsaber on his hip, and sheathed a pair of twin shredder glaives in a concealed pocket of his dark robe. Complimenting the dark outfit, he took his vibroblade displayed on the mantle, and sheathed it to the scabbard strapped to his leg.

Zuinlan Vos believed in being prepared.

Exiting his chambers inside the cozy palace, he paced himself down the plush hallway and began his search for Syren's quarters...

(OOC: Sorry, things have been insane for me lately)



Refreshed by a good nights sleep and a steaming hot shower, Syren pads around the chamber with a towel draped around her body and one twisted around her hair. Breakfast was sitting on the counter in the kitchenette, but she only took a few bites of it. Her mind is elsewhere. The mission she is to embark upon this morning, in fact. She's to pose as one of the Sorceresses of Tund, accompanied by Zuinlan who is in fact, a Sorceror. She can play the part, she just can't pull off some of the spells that one of his kind can. She'd quit her training of the Dark Ways when attaining the rank of a Knight. There is much still to learn but teaching oneself the ways of the darkness isn't an easy task; especially when other things get in the way.

Figuring that she may as well get dressed, Syren finishes drinking some juiri juice and disappears into the bed chamber. Laid out on the bed is the beautiful, ornate robes she's to wear; along with the headpiece and various pieces of jewelry. As she lightly fingered the fine threads of gold stitched into the robe, she felt her name spoken in the deep recesses of her mind. This pulled a small smile to the edge of her lips. Had she wanted to, she could probably have invaded the mind of the one who was thinking of her. But, she didn't. It's rare if she ever does that, for she believes that is a form of rape and that is one atrocity she'll not take part in. In fact, as she recalls, the only time she did invade the mind of another was to save the life of a friend. Cyrel Annat.

Whereas Zuinlan donned dark armor beneath his cloak, Syren didn't wear any. She did clip her sabers to the belt drawn slightly below her hips and she made sure to secure a serrated dagger to the inside of her right thigh; never know when this might come in handy. When comfortable, she slid on the attire that had been laid out for her and looked at herself in the mirror.

As she was admiring the craftsmanship of the material, a chime sounded, announcing the arrival of a warm body. With a breath, she turned from the mirror and answered the door. Upon seeing Zuinlan, she just stood there, looking up to the man. After all, she's dressed in the attire reserved for those of his race, his approval would be necessary for this mission to get started on the right foot.

The lightsaber came down upon him gracefully, but with tremendous speed. The blue blade made a brilliant arc as the wielder, merely a student, brought it down upon his trainer.

Vodo Baas waited for it to hit him.

He had been instructing one of Leia Solo's young apprentices today, in the art of lightsaber combat. The student had already mastered the basics, but lacked finesse. The student, Kamil Arjent, clumsily tried to strike at the Jedi Knight's head, which Vodo deflected with his own blade easily, parrying the strike and redirecting it wide.

Arjent had been doing this all day, the same type of overhand attacks that Vodo continually rebuffed. This was the third time in the past ten minutes he had done so. He had hoped that after making the mistake more than once, the young learner would realize what he was doing wrong and correct it. Apparently he still had not done so.

Vodo backed up, giving the student some space to launch his next attack, this one a horizontal strike which was intended to decapitate Vodo. Vodo waited for the blue training saber to reach him before, instead of blocking as the student expected, ducking, using his short, but powerful, insectile legs to sweep the youngster's feet out from under him.

Arjent hit the ground with a dull thud, the grass of the Jedi Temple's dueling courtyard softening the fall.

Vodo deactivated his own blade, waiting for the student to climb to his feet, "What did you do wrong?" He asked in his grave, scratchy voice, tossing the lightsaber aside and reaching for his walking stick, which he carried at all times.

"I wasn't fast enough." Arjent replied, "I should have used a less obvious attack."

"Correct." Vodo replied, leaning on his stick, "But that was not what you did wrong."

Kamil gave him a puzzled expression, but did not say anything.

"How many times did you use the same overhand strike? And how many times did I parry it?" The Jedi Knight inquired.

"Three times." Came the reply.

"Correct. One of the most important lessons you will ever learn is to learn from your mistakes. Never make the same one twice." Vodo said, "It would be your undoing. If one attack does not work, you must assume your enemy has prepared for it, and will rebuff it at every turn. Remember, a prepared enemy is the most dangerous kind."

The young padawn nodded, placing his training saber on his belt, "Excuse me, but Master Solo is holding a seminar in the fountain room."

Vodo nodded silently and watched as Arjent walked away.

Was I ever that young once? He asked himself, reflecting on his own lesson for the day.


A prepared enemy is a dangerous enemy.


The thought echoed in his mind for a long while as he walked away, leaning heavily on his walking stick



*




The Jedi Archives were once the pride of the entire Jedi Order. Inside the legendary Jedi Temple on Coruscant, the Archives were second to none. it was said, "If you can't find what you are looking for in the great Jedi Archives, then it does not exist."

Many dozens of keepers roamed the archives on Coruscant, preserving the thousands upon thousands of texts, datapads and computer banks located within the Temple.


Now, the Jedi Archives located within the Jedi Temple on Naboo was just a shadow of it's former self.

Vodo Baas looked around at the hundreds of shelves intended for thousands of texts which now were empty. Some Jedi, including Vodo, held hope that some of it could eventually be recovered from the old temple on Coruscant, if and when the Empire gave the place up.

Vodo spent countless hours inside the Jedi Archives on Naboo, soaking up anything he could get his hands on. Some Jedi, at the costs of their lives, had managed to save some documents from before the Clone War, including a partially uploaded databank, a few holocrons, and a few datapads containing largely useless material. Personal journals and such.

Vodo almost never left the place, unless he was sleeping, eating or training other apprentices. He had not yet taken one of his own, mostly helping Leia.

So he spent his free time here, trying to learn as much lore as he could. He studied everything from ancient fighting techniqus, to philosophy on the Force.

It was his home away from home.

He walked up to one of the terminals, containing the partialy uploaded databanks, speaking to the voice activated computer, "Computer."

"Please identify." Came the reply.

After Vodo had come to the temple, he had been instrumental in installing security protection systems for the databanks. The Council had agreed with him, some material was too intense for some of the apprentices to learn at their respective stages in training. But mostly, it was a defense from outside sources trying to get a hold on Jedi secrets.

"Vodo Baas. Passcode: nadon-ithor three six eight."

"Voice recognition confirmed. Access granted." Came the reply.



Vodo sat at the terminal, where he stayed far into the night.