The noise of rushing water was everywhere. From the splash of rolling waves as they struck the oddly organic foundations, to the endless roar of the nearby waterfall, it was a part of Jan-gwa. An aspect of its identity, the perpetual noise was as defining to the city as the semi-organic coral which formed each of the rounded stone platforms. Combined with the phosphorescent glow of the lamps set low against the mist-veiled waters, these qualities might have once made the city seem peaceful. Instead, they now served only to amplify the palpable sense of terror present throughout much of the settlement.
The rounded walkways and curving streets were notably absent of the local Gungans. Each was hidden within their homes, awaiting behind barred doors until the all-clear was given. Until the most recent threat to Jan-gwa had been captured and contained. Only a small group of Gungans, armed with the weapons of the city’s guards, remained out in the open. Each of them surrounding a figure in white stylised armour holding a horned helm in the crook of his arm. His half-metallic features spoke of barely repressed irritation as he conversed with the leader of the group.
“And how long did you wait until you contacted me?” Ka Tarvitz asked, rubbing his remaining eye with one thumb, “Were you counting by hours or simply by how many men you had lost.”
“Wesa-” the Captain began, but Tarvitz cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“That was a rhetorical question, I’m more irritated that you didn’t come to us first rather than attempting to take her on yourself. And before you suggest it, I am not questioning the capabilities of your men or yourself. You had to have known you were in over your head though.”
“Shesa was runnen freely through da city” the Captain responded with a nod, his large ears flapping with the abrupt gesture, “Wesa had to tryen and keep her contained.”
That was the exact sort of thinking which had gotten them into this mess in the first place, Tarvitz thought to himself. He managed to hold his tongue from issuing a venomous response, albeit barely. However misguided they might have been, the Gungans had made some effort to be helpful. That said, Tarvitz wished that their every error had not simply made the situation worse.
The story - what he could make of it through their broken Basic - had begun when they had attempted to apprehend someone in a local bar. A dark-haired someone, baring blood red facial tattoos and charred hands. She had resisted, and they had attempted to take her by force. Then she resisted with the Force.
Tarvitz glanced back at the nearby militiagung corpses, now hidden from sight by cloth sheets. Each of them had been badly disfigured, either burned from the inside out by Force Lightning or dismembered by a lightsaber blade. There was little to tell from that save for confirming just who the culprit was, and that most deaths had been quick. At the very least there was no indication that she had taken their time with them, as some Krath and Sith might have done. Supposedly those were just the initial casualties, and after she had withdrawn, they had attempted to capture her again. And again. And again. Each time with the exact same result. This had continued until a mixture of sheer terror and common sense had finally forced them to swallow their pride and ask for help.
“Is there anything else I should know?” Tarvitz finished, sliding his helmet into place and double checking his weapons, “Anything at all?”
Each of the gungans gave an uncomfortable look as if avoiding his gaze, their stalked eyes swivelling as they took a sudden interest in the floor or ceilings about them. A few others - not for the first time - seemed to take nervous glances toward the lightsaber hooked at his belt. Ah, so that was it.
Jan-gwa had been visited by members of the Brotherhood more times than he could count. Most, despite several notable duels, had been welcomed without issue. Yet, Tarvitz had sensed a tension about the Gungans ever since his arrival, as if every one of them expected him to turn upon them in a heartbeat. The same had been true of other worlds ever since Rath Oligard had bellowed rhetoric against the Jedi and Sith alike across the Holonet. While he would never be able to have them confirm it, Tarvitz suspected that a few militiagungs had taken the Collective’s propaganda to heart, and attempted to act on it the moment they saw a Jedi in their midst. No wonder they had taken so long to ask Clan Odan-Urr for help.
“Well?” Tarvitz pressed after a few seconds.
“Dalee was una thin,” the Captain slowly admitted, his earth red skin taking an oddly pale quality as he spoke, “Fighting her was, uh, scary.”
“Really,” Tarvitz answered flatly, folding his arms as he slowly looked from the multitude of corpses back to the Gungan.
“More den dat.” the Captain continued, heedless of the sarcasm, “It was liken shesa could reachen inside yous headen, and maken yousa feel terror.”
It was almost certainly C’ree then. If the facial tattoos had not confirmed it then that surely did. Tarvitz didn’t know whether that would make his job easier, or all the more difficult.
“I see. Then thank you for your help,” he said with a nod, “I’ll take over from here. Keep your men back. In fact, keep them out of sight entirely if you can.”
“Dalee anytten wesa can do to hep at all?”
“Keep everyone in their homes, guard the entrances, and if you don’t hear from me within an hour then run.” Tarvitz answered, as he turned and strode off into the twilight lit streets, “You won’t want to be here if I fail.”
Tasking a single man to hunt down a murderer throughout an entire city in one night might have seemed like an impossible task. Tarvitz knew that the Gungans certainly thought so, and sensed their doubt as he walked away. He couldn’t entirely disagree with them. His skills lay largely in fixing machines and, when necessary, breaking people. Yet Tarvitz had been the nearest to Naboo when the call for help had emerged, and whatever his feelings were to the task at hand, he had his orders. Now he just had to prove that their faith in his skills had not been misplaced.
As he walked deeper into the city, Tarvitz uncoiled his senses, reaching out with his mind across Jan-gwa’s nearest streets and probing the nearby districts with the Force. There was a distinct sense of fear from every building. It seeped into the city, drowning out all other emotions and dominating the minds of the populace. Yet, there were slight differences to be found, where the emotion was coloured with other thoughts. Some were tinged with confusion, even rage or contempt for others. A few were petrifying, but there was one which was perceptibly different from the others. Fear which was coloured with a conflicting mixture of regret and satisfaction.
Tarvitz focused his mind toward the source of it, allowing the Force to guide his footsteps as he passed through one shadow wreathed street after another. The dim yellow of the bulbous lanterns formed deep pools of blackness against the stonework. It wasn’t difficult to see just how she had spent so much of the evening evading and hiding away from the Gungans. Tarvitz half expected that his journey would end in the shadowed corner of one street, or even some inconspicuous doorway which could be so easily overlooked. Instead, the Force called out to him, drawing him to the centre of the city, and into Jan-gwa’s domed amphitheatre.
The lanterns within its interior had been extinguished, leaving only the silvery light of the moons to illuminate its surroundings. Seats ringed about its interior, clinging to the building’s edges along with semi-circular platforms decorated with icons Tarvitz did not recognise. At its centre, a broad stage awaited, with twin sets of stairs leading up its sides. For a moment he wondered if his senses had misled him, or he had fallen prey to some illusion. Then he heard her speak.
“Leave.”
It was hissed, barely more than a whisper, yet it echoed throughout the building. There was a power to it as well, and Tarvitz subconsciously took several steps backwards before his mind clamped shut against the command.
“People have died here, C’ree,” Tarvitz called out, “You know I can’t do that.”
“You come to punish?” The question was in a different tone now, “Clan no forgive. Jedi no forget. No hope.”
“It’s never too late to ask for forgiveness,” Tarvitz answered, trying to keep her talking as his eyes scanned the amphitheatre’s surroundings, “The Gungans will portray you as a monster. They will try to spin this their way. Whatever happened, we need to hear it from you as well. Morgan could-”
The words died in his throat as a wave of sheer terror overwhelmed him. It coursed through his mind, reaching into the dark recesses of his thoughts and dragging forth thoughts of failure, regret and loss. Tarvitz felt his heart hammering against his ribcage, and both hands balled into fists as he fought the urge to run and hide. He almost broke at that moment, almost fled the building with all else forgotten, overwhelmed by his own innermost terrors. He made it as far as the doorway before he managed to take hold again, fighting against the fears which threatened to override all else in his mind.
“That’s not going to work, C’ree,” Tarvitz managed through gritted teeth, slowly returning to where he had been standing, “Just listen to me for a moment. Please.”
He could almost half-see the outline of someone standing on one of the uppermost platforms, half crouched in the shadows, and watching him with glinting eyes. She didn’t move, nor did she answer him but, for a few moments, the fear within him subsided. Well, it was a start.
“Much appreciated,” Tarvitz exhaled, feeling his pulse return to normal, “Now, can we talk?”
The figure stepped forward off of the platform, falling to the ground with a lithe grace. She began to walk toward him, navigating her way about the rows of seats. C’ree’s every footstep echoed about their surroundings, and as Tarvitz listened, it was soon joined by others from somewhere behind him. Frowning, the Jensaarai turned to look back, and his eyes widened in disbelief as several armed Gungans pressed forward through the door, the same ones who had greeted his arrival.
“Wit yousa fighten her,” one announced with the sort of blind confidence no amount of training could ever hope to match, “Wesa'll win disa timen.”
Tarvitz wasn’t even given a moment to offer a warning before he heard C’ree scream. It was a cry of betrayal as much as rage, and with a familiar snap-hiss a violet blade sprang into life in the darkness. He caught sight of her expression, a snarling mask of concept before she rushed forward, casting neon bolts of lightning from her free hand. Tarvitz raised his own lightsaber, activating it and catching the energy before it struck the nearest Gungan.
“Run you fools!” Tarvitz yelled at intruding militiagungs, raising his own hand and telekinetically slamming C’ree backward across the open room.
