Chib Nyac

The soft scent of wilderness danced in front of Chib, his pale green skin freshly painted with tribal ink. A spider crawled over his leg as he sat and pondered, gazing down at the corpse of the beast that had been killed as a preventative measure. He thought back on the creature and the life it must have lived, roaming the countryside and eating that which it wanted. Nature, the will of the Force, working in harmony and bringing a balance. Then his mind shifted towards another view, the view of the hunter. The Ascendant. Their zealous fury unwavering in their endeavors, blinding them to the little things.

He thought back to when he tracked down the creature with the two men of the Ascendant Order, the Ithorian hoping to calm the animal and let it live. His suggestions of using the Force to control the beast were ignored, deeming it easier and more effective to just end the life of the specimen. Instead they tried ambushing the creature, a beautiful example of a vornskr which darted out of the way. Chib was in awe as it sleekly evade the two, swiping its paws at them every so often, eventually tiring of toying with the two and attacking.

The Ithorian reached out with his mind and tried to calm the animal, to persuade it to leave this area and not come back. At the very least, Chib could take the specimen with him back to the Iwu Krouh and use him as a pet. Though resistant at first, he was able to patch a connection with the creature, starting to calm the animal down and back away from the soldiers.

Chib remembered the sound the beast made when they fired into it, the horrible howling of death crawling out from the animal, slithering into the mind of the Ithorian. The stench of ozone filled the air and the scent of burning flesh followed shortly. The Jedi felt what it was like, the experience jarring him from his concentration and leaving him angry.

“It was leaving you alone!” demanded Chib.

“It was gonna attack us, it was a ploy.” said one of the men.

“Trust us, we did the right thing.” replied the other, “Besides, if you were wrong, how could you have stopped it? You’re unarmed except for your cane.”

Chib walked over to the animal, its body cooling as life functions had ceased but still retaining some heat. He could still sense the pain of it’s death, the Ithorian’s branch covered arm rising to his head as he sat on his stump, tattered gray robes hanging loosely. His feet squished slightly in the mud, trying to imagine what the creature felt as it stalked its prey and terrorized the local folk. Trying to forget what it was like those last few seconds of the animal's life.

It was then that Chib began to distrust blind zealous fury, the desire to vanquish and destroy anything remotely dark not one the Ithorian had. The Ithorian pulled out his canteen, taking a sip from it, and pondering on the men he was with and what their true motives were.