The winds of Tatooine were fierce on this day, his bantha hide clothing snapping while the sand infested breeze swirled around him. Hands clad in fingerless gloves ran alongside the frame of the modified Flare-S Swoop that flawlessly brought him glory every race. That was, of course, without the unsportsmanship of certain creatures who wanted to rid of him.

Every event, it was apparent that the multiple alien races of that participate in these syndicates were out for blood; especially that of a humans. Jenje had dealt with these scum for years, with every attempt to kill or injure him being thwarted. They had even set up mines in the dune sea once, but somehow Jenje knew their locations, and avoided them easily. It actually concluded with one of the culprit's being blasted into oblivion themselves. Of course, the blame was put on Jenje, and he was chased by a mafia of Rodians.

Unlike most of the racers, Jenje did not wear a flight suit while engaging these events. Swoop racing was by far the most dangerous in the galaxy. One would have to possess extraordinary reflexes, which is why they were performed mostly by certain alien races. He was always garbed in ragged clothing, with a rancor scale utility belt slung around his waist. People claimed he was crazy, but he held a confidence that was hard to be broken.

The race was starting momentarily, and he began to prepare. Sitting on both knees, he examined the repulsorlift below the vehicle, along with the gear shifters and the fuel. He would also check for booby traps, and other bugs that could have been slipped on by one of his adversaries--Swoop racing was a dirty business. The sound of footsteps dragging along the sand was audible behind him, his head turning and observing the distraction.

"Ha! You really think you will win this time, boy?"

The Rodian spoke in his native language, though Jenje could understand it perfectly. The green skinned figure stood hunched over, his face disfigured and his left forearm was missing.

"Surely you're not racing with that nub for a arm, Biido. I'd actually feel sorry for you; maybe cut you a little slack."

Jenje chuckled as the Rodian flailed his remaining arm in the air, pointing a finger at him.

"But that is where you are wrong, Cabal. I will not be racing this time...no.."

From behind him stepped a boy in his late teens, probably on the verge of adulthood. His eyes were narrowed in Jenje's direction. He looked rather pale, and that signified that he indeed was not from Tatooine. He must have been a slave on route to Tatooine for work, but was probably bought off by the ever-so deceptive Biido. His physique was toned and slender, his skin ravaged by scars.

"So this is my competition, Biido? Pfft!"

The boy spit in Jenje's direction, and stormed off. Biido happily followed his new pet, his nub arm moving as much as it could. Jenje stood, ignoring the threat and then straddling his swoop. The repulsorlift was quickly activated and he hovered slowly across the garage. He could hear curses and threats being muttered from the crowd around him. It seemed to be so tense that it wouldn't be surprising if a blaster was drawn. Finally reaching the starting line, those eyes of blue examining his adversaries. He retrieved a piercing stare from the man hired by Biido, who's sneer revealed blackened teeth. The race would start any minute now, that familiar buzz would ring through his ears, and the pack of racers would be propelled into the Dune Sea. The route was a dangerous one. It was a five mile track that dipped into jagged canyons and stinging sand. Halfway through they would pass the mighty Sarlaac, who was always willing to grab an extra snack. Digits clasped the handlebars in front of him, as the three lights above began to count down.

3...2...1..

Just as the buzzing rang through his ears, his arms violently pushing the handles forward. Sand sprayed behind him as he was slung forward, the wooping sound of the Swoop bikes echoing in the valley while people roared and chanted for their racers. He was in the middle of them all, with Biido's slave right on his tail. His feet were then tilted upward to activate the remaining repulsorlifts, which then allowed him to gain elevation and skim over the top. Every move had to be made precisely. The smallest mistake could kill him in an instant at these extreme speeds, which is why his above-average reflexes provided the assistance he needed.

It was a harsh race, and to Jenje's surprise, no attempts on taking his life had been made at that point. Biido's slave, who was obviously raised to race Swoop bikes, was right on his tail. Just a few more feet and his control vane would tear into his turbothrusters. With a quick rotation of the repulsorlift's calibration dial he descended quickly, landing beside another adversary and veering into a canyon. This is where one's racing skills is put to the test. Your life could end in an instant. One scrape against the dry rock of these jagged canyons and you could be spacedust. Yet when Jenje moved throughout this twisting and turning canyon, it was with an incredible smoothness. Each last second turn was already pre-meditated, as if he knew the course itself. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, followed by blood curdling screams and flaming debris. Jenje ducked his head to the right, avoiding a scrap of metal flying in his direction. Unfortunately for the Twi'lek behind him, the piece of metal connected and clotheslined him at the neck.

Finally reaching the end of the canyon, the cluster of Swoop racers sped across the Dune Sea. Jenje was now in second, falling behind a rather skillful Rodian. The man hired by Biido was still right behind him, Jenje could feel his cold gaze as he pursued him across the sandy terrain.

Reaching his top speed of 650 km/h,Jenje could feel the harsh sting of the sand. There were patrons scattered along the outskirts, watching and waiting for something entertaining to happen. Just ahead there was a crowd of people, which told him that Sarlaac was just ahead. The scum that infest this planet seem to get the greatest joy out of someone getting eaten alive. He quickly maneuvered his body to the left, in order to skim across the side of it. His egotistical counterpart, however, decided to attempt the jump across the mighty Sarlaac. Jenje yelled to the daredevil, amidst the loud screeching of the Swoop bikes.

"Are you out of your mind?! You can't make that jump!"

The racer gave him a menacing look before soaring above the gaping mouth of Sarlaac. Jenje could smell the rotted flesh that had caked itself on Sarlaac's thousands of teeth; it groaned at the scent of fresh bodies. Suddenly, a long, slimed tentacle lashed outward from it's mouth, wrapping around the leg of the man. He yelled in shock as his Swoop skidded into the sand, his body now being held upward by the neck.

He could only watch as the man was pulled downward, his hands digging into the sand for his life. No. This would not happen. The race wasn't important. While the guy obviously had it coming, Jenje could not watch him die. The fan's cheered as the man was being dragged to his death, yet they were very much distraught at the fact of Jenje's return.

He leapt from his Swoop quickly, grabbing a stabilizer bar that had flown off of the racer's swoop. Leaning down, he attempted to reach it to the stranger--but it did no good. He was too far. Sarlaacs breath had the effect of a 20 mph wind, it's repulsive smell almost nauseating. Jenje felt a sense of hopelessness at this point. He closed his eyes, trying to harness the reflexes he portrayed on the track. Perhaps if he could utilize them now...they could benefit the situation. Opening his eyes he concentrated on the man, reaching out to him once more. Then, he slipped. He spun around quickly to try and grab the edge, but it was no use. He tumbled down, and down, until finally reaching the mouth of the beast--then all went black.
[COLOR=Olive]

"Wake up, Jenje."

He awoke with a jump, looking around to find himself in a small hut.

"Wh-...What happened? Where am I?"

"Don't worry, your friend made it out. You put on quite a show. And we are currently residing in the hut of Ben Kenobi himself." As Jenje's eyes focused on the man, he appeared very frail, and old. His pruned face was hidden beneath a hood, though his garb was not deceptive -He was not trying to hide his identity. Yet there was something elusive about the man that he couldn't quite figure out yet.

"He wasn't my friend. Who are you, anyway?" Jenje sat up now. How did he get here? What happened to the race? How long had he been unconscious? -Or..drugged, for all he knew. Either way, he was ready for some answers. He stood up now, walking up to the man in a threatening way.

"Please, please. I mean you no harm, Cabal. I had to get you to safety. The crowd began to riot when they saw what you did. You leapt higher than anyone I have ever seen before. You showed compassion for your adversary. Inhabitants on this rugged planet do not take kindly to users of the Force, especially when they ruin their daily entertainment. More importantly, they want their bounties. Tell me, do you know of the Force?"

"Even if I did, old man...I wouldn't tell you." However, Jenje was beginning to believe the man. It all seemed crazy...but as he put the pieces together, he realized that's why strange phenomena occured his presence constantly. Perhaps that was why he was orphaned. He looked to the man, who looked more satisfied than ever, as if he knew Jenje had figured something out.

"..Listen, I don't know what I did, or how I did it, but you need to tell me what's going on. Why did you bring me here?"

"I know you are different Jenje. You are destined for something great; to live and train among the Jedi."

"I think you're full of bantha feces."

Just as Jenje began to walk toward the door, he heard a hissing sound, followed by the glow of a pale, green light. He turned to see the man holding a lightsaber - the ancient weapon of the Jedi knights. His face became illuminated as he stared in awe. The old man flicked the weapon off, looking to Jenje with a smile.

"Oh no, no. I am no Jedi.", He chuckled, moving his hand along the hilt. "I befriended one once, who died long ago during the clone wars. He left me his lightsaber, and I have had it ever since."

"So what do you want me to do?"

"You must flee Tatooine, and travel to a world called Capricia. There, you will find Leia Organa Solo, a Jedi master. Tell her of your experience. You will be tested for compatability, no doubt. Yet I can almost feel the Force flowing from you - it's presence is strong. I have faith that you will pass the trials to become trained as a knight."

All of this came as a sudden punch to the face. Jenje did not know how to respond to such a task. Trained as a Jedi? His life here was by far the least adventurous; but was this really what he wanted? He was sure he had enough earnings from his racing career to make it to the world, but he started to question his potential. There was the fear of rejection from the Jedi--along with the fear of leaving his home...his swoop.

Jenje quickly came to a decision, and that was to travel to Capricia. His entire life he knew that he was destined for something, and now the path had been made for him. All he had to do was travel the road.

"I will go.."

When Jenje turned around, the man was gone. Vanished. He then stepped through the front doorway, examining the landscape..looking for any sign of him. The man had dissapeared out of existence, it seemed. The only thing in the immediate area was his Swoop, parked perfectly and undented. Jenje saddled it quickly, powering up the thrusters for his last ride in the Tatooine desert.

Too many thoughts and inquiries were racing through Jenje's mind as he scaled across the coarse desert. His life would be completely changed - Was this really what he wanted? The life of a Jedi was no doubt a hard one; there would be countless times that his life would be put on the line. Jenje always knew that he was different...that he was destined for something, but those were dreams of one day becoming an infamous swoop racer, or even a pilot. He hoped that his questions would be answered by this Leia Organa Solo, a name that held a familiarity. Perhaps he would do research on her during his voyage to Capricia, to find out more of her origin. Being raised on a planet such as Tatooine, Jenje was not up to date with much politics. This planet was controlled by the Hutt's.

Pressing forward on the handlebars sent the Swoop into it's maximum speed. His furred windbreaker was snapping furiously behind him as he glided above the ground, the dim light reflecting into the sky and signifying that he was close to the city. The sun was hanging in the middle of the sky, illuminating the sand to an orange glow. The world with two sun's was now beginning to dim, and he wondered if it would be the last sunset that he would ever see on Tatooine; his home.

Just as he could see the walls surrounding Mos Eisley skimming over the top of the sand, something happened. A searing pain shot through his side, and in that instant he knew that he had been shot. The force of the blast sent him flying from his straddling position, his swoop continuing to ride onward before crashing sideways into the sand. Jenje rolled over, spitting some of the gritty contents that stuck to his lips back onto the ground. He pressed a hand against his wounded side; the blast had fortunately grazed his side, and did not puncture any vital organs. Then, just as he figured out who it could be, he felt a foot press against his chest. Looking up he saw the scaley, long snout of a Rodian---Biido.

"Ah, Jenje Cabal, we meet again so soon!"

"I knew it was you, Biido. Only a one armed slime such as yourself could pull off such a horrible shot like --YEAARGHH!"

A swift kick connected with his injured side, most likely making the wound worse. Jenje coughed as the breath was taken away from him. He was sure that Biido would kill him on this night; the night that he had chosen to flee this planet. If only he had been more careful.

"You're done, Cabal. After your little stunt at the race today--Well, let's just say you had some fans who are now...after your blood. I'm going to do the honors of taking you to them, and collecting my handsome reward."

The Rodian clasped his hands together as if he were holding the credits themselves, a look of excitement wriggling on his long, scaled face. Jenje was not surprised that there were many people who were distraught at the fact that he fled the race--whether it was under his control or not. Many people tended to bet on Jenje; he always finished in the top three. Just recently he was on a winning streak, which was probably why a multiple amount of bets were placed on him. Either way, he lost some people a lot of money, and in the scum-ridden world of Tatooine, money meant a lot. People killed for it, died for it, it's what kept this place going. It then occured to Jenje that he would not be one of these people, dying for the greed of another. He would escape this imprisonment, and set off what he was destined to do. Anger shot through him at the very thought of his dried skeleton, buried in the sands of Tatooine for all eternity. No, it would not happen, he would not allow it. This is not where his path ends.

He was then pulled to his feet, the cold metal of a DH-17 being pressed against his temple. A landspeeder sat in front of them. The sound of what seemed like a womprat vomiting was audible, and looking to Biido, he knew that it was the giggle of a Rodian. The gamblers obviously wanted him dead or alive, and Biido was no doubt going to bring him in pieces. Jenje closed his eyes, and in an instant, moved out of the way just as the blaster bolt was shot. It was as if he moved just as the bolt made it through the barrel, destined to blow his brains out. He grabbed the blaster from the alien's four fingered hand, aiming it quickly to his throat. Biido raised his one arm in defeat, those black beaded eyes now becoming round and innocent.

"Please...show mercy?"

Jenje's emotions were at their peak now, his eyes filled with a quiet determination as he stared down his lifelong adversary. Throughout his many years on Tatooine, Biido had tried to kill him with multiple attempts. In a way, the Rodian symbolized his harsh life on the planet. Living without parents...fleeing from gangs and murderers; it was the life he grew to know well. Then, with a quick pull of his finger, he shot right into the chest of the alien, before completing the task with a shot to the head. He dropped the weapon beside the corpse, making his way back to his wrecked Swoop bike. Hopefully it would still be driveable.

Jenje and Biido were not alone.

From nearby a figure watched, unnoticed by either party. Her robes blended well into the sand, and her dark hair was hidden under a hood. She had seen the swoop approaching, seen the Rodian taking aim. And she had let him shoot. If this boy was what she thought he was, then he would survive such a blast easily.

She had seen the boy earlier during the swoop race. He had done admirably right to the point of the Sarlaac pit, where he had made that foolish attempt to save his competitor. She knew the feeling - she had felt it herself, at one time. That desire to have compassion had no hold on her anymore, of course; she only showed compassion when it was useful for her to do so. It was something that her Masters would not necessarily approve of, for they hated compassion, but it was her philosophy, and it seemed to work.

She had seen this boy before, too; she had known he would be on Tattooine before she arrived. It was not her first visit to Tattooine, though it was the only one that she intended to be lengthy. Her last visit had ended abruptly, with an urgent call to return to Xa Fel that had turned out to be not so urgent after all. Though it had been useful, as it had led her to Telos, where she had met Ben Firestar.

But that was for pondering another time. Now, to focus on the boy. She had seen him in a vision - those seemed to be coming a lot lately - and while she didn't put all her faith in visions, they were worth considering. So she had diverted course to this planet, in the hopes of finding him. And she got lucky.

When she saw the man who whisked him away, she followed, but when he neared the home of Obi-wan, she stopped and waited. That was a place that held too many memories for her, memories of the Jedi and her time with them, memories she wanted to forget. Or at least memories that did not need to resurface now. They would only be a distraction from the matter at hand.

What happened in the shack she didn't know. She felt a strong presence there, perhaps a being fully integrated into the Force. A Force-ghost, as it were. Not something she wanted to tangle with, especially now. The boy was still there, though, confused, angry. He was perfectly set for her seductions.

When the Rodian arrived, she smiled. She felt his emotions, knew he was angry at losing money on the race. This would be the boy's first test, and she hadn't had to do anything yet. When he was shot off his swoop, though, she paused. Perhaps he was not as strong as she thought. She knew the boy had potential - Force potential - and he had some latent anger - but if a clueless Rodian could shoot him, he wasn't worthy of that power.

And then he pulled that stunning reversal, in which he disarmed the Rodian and pointed the blaster at the alien. She heard the alien beg for mercy and, feeling the conflict, sent a subtle message throught the Force, Kill him. He deserves no mercy. He tried to kill you. Whether he got it or not, she didn't know, but kill the alien he did, shooting him once in the chest and once in the head. Perfect.

As he walked towards the swoop, Skygge stepped forward and stood in front of the damaged vehicle. Throwing her hood back, she stared at the young man and smiled. "Interesting display just now. You're quite skilled. Or perhaps it's not skill." Slipping out of the cloak and throwing it over her arm, her skin-tight black leather body-suit was revealed, and she took another step forward. She paused and glanced at the swoop. "Looks like you need a lift." Come with me, she suggested through the Force. You want to come with me.

Oops.

As he walked away from the corpse, something seemed to grasp him. It was not physically...it was more psychologically - as if it were grabbing his very soul. Then, he turned, seeing a cloaked figure approaching in the distance. At first, he was close to sprinting back to the blaster rifle. But then as the figure got closer, he knew that they meant no harm...for the time being.


Jenje looked to the stranger, examining her attributes. Had she been watching the entire time? He had to be somewhat cautious of this woman. It was hard to trust someone at this point in time, especially with the enemies he made after the race. Yet there was something about her, almost tempting in a way.

"Interesting display just now. You're quite skilled. Or perhaps it's not skill."

Her voice lacked emotion, though it held a guileful tone. She was definitely interested in Jenje and his abilities--Or perhaps it's not skill. It was in reference to the Force. Was she a Jedi Knight? She clearly carried a presence with her. It surrounded her form, yet Jenje could not recognize it as the presence of the darkside. He watched as she removed her cloak, examining her leather clad form.

"Looks like you need a lift."

Jenje kneeled down to see how much damage had actually been done. She was right. The swoop was totalled, immobile. He'd walk the rest of the way, but the Raiders prowled the deserts at night..and he did not carry a weapon. There was also something intriguing about this stranger. Perhaps he would inquire more on the short trip to the city. Those blues flashed upward in her direction, a brow raising as he spoke.


"I suppose you're right, but how do I know you're not trying to kill me?"

He stood in an upright position then, looking to her with a questioning look. Jenje couldn't help to be just a little skeptical of the woman. She did appear out of nowhere, let alone offer him a ride. There was something that didn't match up about the situation.

Then, out of complete coincidence, the two were surrounded by a small militia of Rodians( about six ), all armed to the teeth with blasters. They were definitely a race with excellent skills in stealth, although their wits were not as cunning. One of them examined their fallen comrad, flailing his arms in the air in anger and cursing in Rodian tongue.

"They've murdered him! They've murdered Biido!"

The rest of them aimed their blasters in their direction, just on the brink of firing. Jenje noticed a piece of scrap metal from the frame of his swoop, lying on the ground in front of him. Quickly, as if he were acting out of complete reflex, he grabbed the metal and threw it in front of him. Just as the blasts were fired they were deflected immediately by the scrapmetal, ricocheting into the sand. If the two bolts were to connect with their intended target, either he or the stranger would have been hit.

As more blasts sprayed in their direction, Jenje dove for Biido's corpse, grabbing his DH-17. He honestly had no control over himself; it was as if he was being guided as he performed these feats, untouched by the blasts. Two quick shots were fired in the direction of the attackers. One of the bolts connected perfectly with his attackers shoulder, sending him to the ground. The second bolt hit the Rodian that was closest to Biido with a direct hit to the ribcage. While he had decent skills in shooting a basic rifle back home( for womprats, mostly), he had never used a blaster in such a way.

Blaster fire rained throughout the area, and he did not get to see what became of the woman that approached him. Smoke from the multiple blasts fogged his vision of the area,...it was complete chaos. Standing up, he fired more shots in the direction of the Rodians before sprinting and crouching behind his totalled Swoop.

In that moment before the blasters began to fire, Skygge felt the approach of the Rodians, felt their anger, felt the danger. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, as it often seemed to do in such moments, allowing her what seemed like all the time in the world to think. And yet it was but a split second.

She had a choice to make, she knew. The boy, of course, was untrained, unable to truly feel the Force, unable to use it. With training, he would be able to use his anger, either through passion as Ithron had or in the cold, calculating, controlled way Skygge did. But for now he was unprotected by such abilities, and her help would probably be much appreciated.

On the other hand, if he couldn't survive the idiotic Rodians that were approaching, then was he worthy to be trained? Skygge herself could easily wrap herself in the Force, hiding herself from the Rodians' eyes and leaving the boy to fend for himself. He would have another chance to prove himself, to prove he was a worthy adept, one who could replace some of those recently lost on Xa Fel.

In that split second, that eternity, Skygge deliberated. And then the Rodians yelled. Her eyes shut briefly as she thought, Those kriffing idiots. No choice to be made now; those who were stupid enough to willingly give up the element of surprise deserved to die, and to die without delay. Skygge would help the boy, would defend him and herself.

As the blasters fired and the boy attempted to defend them both, Skygge leaped up and back, flipping in the air as the blaster bolts sang beneath her. She landed on her feet, the twin sabers activating as she did so, their red glow clearly visible. Blaster bolts screaming towards her were rocketed back at her attackers at twice their initial speed, flipping two over in the dust before they knew what had hit them. Then she moved.

Skygge was not the most powerful of the Sith, and neither was she the most proficient with a lightsaber (or two as it were). Her skills lay along a different path, the path of deception, of stealth, of cunning, of movement. Sprinting towards her attackers, she augmented her speed through the Force and even added some shucking and jiving to her run. As the boy's blaster fire began to answer the Rodians', she was suddenly among them, sabers flashing.

The Rodian hit in the shoulder met with a red beam of energy as it fell, it's corpse severed in twain. Skygge spun, sweeping her sabers with her, she caught the second Rodian in the legs as the bolt to his ribcage sent him stumbling backwards. A spinning kick to the head dropped the third cold, and the fourth found his blaster cut in half by the Sith's saber. As the alien turned towards the nearest attacker, it found Skygge's saber at its throat.

As the Rodian's eyes widened and it dropped the stub of a gun and raised its hands (cautiously, of course - no need for it to sever an arm in the process), Skygge slowly brought the other saber around. The weapons crossed, forming an X right at the base of the alien's neck. A simple twitch and the alien would be dead. But that was not her choice.

She called to the boy, "You can come out now." As he stepped out from his hiding place, she said, "This scum tried to kill you. Shall I finish him?"

Jenje heard the hiss of lightsabers, followed by screams of agony. He peered over the side of the Swoop, blaster aimed and ready. Within the smoke there stood two crimson sabers, dancing around gracefully as they severed the limbs of many. Their yelps and cries in pain echoed throughout the area, blood and flesh staining the sand temporarily. These Rodians obviously messed with the wrong girl.

He then came to the realization that the girl was indeed a user of the force. Yet her ways were quite fierce, as if she were fighting with the guidance of anger. She moved with a quickness that exceeded that of a normal man, her acrobatic prowess was uncanny.

Incredible, he thought. This is what he was capable of. Of course he was not trained to perform these almost superhuman feats, but he now witnessed the power in the hands of another. If this was merely a taste of how the Force could enhance one's skills, then Jenje could only try and imagine the other possiblities.

He watched as two blaster bolts were deflected by the sabers, both returning to the shooters and connecting with them precisely. The move was no doubt impressive. To possess the ability to divert the small bolts with such a thin, sword-like weapon was incredible to Jenje. Something was guiding her...aiding her. Not that he lacked the faith that she was capable of these things, he just knew that this could not be done by a normal human.

Jenje couldn't help but to wonder if more reinforcements were on their way. The Hutt's would not be pleased when they found out more of their gang members had been slaughtered. This place ran on greed, and greed alone. Some disputes could be negotiated with the Hutt's, Jenje had done it himself once when he accidentally wrecked one of his racers. It was not done intentionally; the other racer had been trying to kill him during the long circuit, constantly banging and thrashing at his side. The small battle concluded with the Twi'lek running into the side of a sharp canyon. Shouldn't have taken his eyes off the track.

As the last few Rodians were dropped, he watched as the girl held off on one of them. Her blades formed an X, with the upper end edging closer and closer to his neck. With a simple swipe, he would be dismembered. His skinny form trembled as he stood there, the glow of crimson reflecting from his scaled complextion. He spoke, knowing that these may be his last words. Those beaded eyes stared at Jenje as he spoke.

"Morba the Hutt will hear about this! Your scum ridden filth will be devoured by the mighty--", he was suddenly cut short when Jenje gave a nod to the girl. The head tilted off of the now lifeless body, and rolled to the ground...face first. He could tell the woman was pleased with his decision, her hands were just itching to complete the kill.

"We better get out of here. I hope you have a fast ride."

There was no doubt that more of them would show up soon after not hearing from the first militia. The second wave would be not as limited as the first. He then slung the DH-17 over his shoulder, awaiting a response from the rather helpful stranger. Although her murderous intent was noted, he was somewhat sure that she did not want to harm him; it was more like she was trying to tempt him into giving in to his true desires.

The Rodian's head rolled into the sand, and Skygge smiled. The kid was already giving in to his darker impulses. He had the makings of a Sith. But now was not his time. He would have to experience the pain of the Jedi before he could be turned in practice. "My ride's fast enough," she replied, hooking her sabers to her belt and once again donning her cloak. "Just over this dune."

Skygge walked in silence to her rented two-seat swoop. If Jenje wondered why she had come with a two-seater, he didn't ask, and she didn't offer. Instead she kicked the starter in silence and left him to brood upon his actions for the entirety of the ride back into town.

Once they arrived, Skygge slipped off the swoop and said, "If you want what I have, if you want to know how to do what I do, follow your instincts and come find me. If you are worthy of this power, you'll know where to go and how to get there." With that, she slipped off into the crowd and disappeared from Jenje's sight.

In truth, she had cloaked herself using the Force and walked calmly back to her ship. Starting it, she took off into space, headed back towards Xa Fel. Something was happening there soon - she could feel its approach. Something dark, sinister, unknown, was about to break upon the homeworld of the Sith. And somehow she knew that she would be needed.