Seha'ra'ss'ad Seh'ana

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

It was another day on Ossus. Another day of classes and studies. Another day of everything being the same. It seemed like life had been full of sameness ever since she'd come here. Ever since Dama had left her and Markos in the care of the Jedi and gone off to do whatever it was that she did up in space. And while she'd made a pitiful few friends, they were no one her age; Kazahan, the Trianni, and the Cizerack woman, Untaurra (despite the latter not really knowing exactly that her some-time running partner was actually a young girl). She'd not quite worked up the courage to let that one out. Of course there was Zem, but his availability was at times nonexistent. It left her with... not many people.

And so when lunchtime came about, the girl had gone to the mess hall, collected her lunch, and wandered back out into the sunshine. Her trek took her towards the medical building which was - thankfully - not a long distance off.

Idly she wondered if she could stow away on whatever boring freighter had made berth on the landing pad, but it was a fleeting notion, and as she stepped onto the medical building's front entryway, the young Lupine easily balanced her lunch in one hand while pushing the door's entry panel with the other.

It hissed upwards in a smooth, unbroken motion, and stepping inside, Teagan blinked.

She didn't visit her younger brother often enough, she figured. Once every other day. She gave a sniff as she started forward, and the door closed behind her.

She and Markos only had each other here, and she knew that they would need to stick together if they were to make it long enough. Long enough till when she didn't know, but that constant feeling of being an outsider was never far from her thoughts. She was a Padawan, but did she really belong here? The girl moved through the main entrance area and headed for the back, to where Markos' nursery had been set up. The ever-present nanny droid was there, towards the back, but it remained where it was at the sight of the baby's older sister. Teagan s'Ilancy was a regular enough sight, and had been given clearance to visit whenever she wished.

Stepping through the threshold of the doorway that marked Markos' territory, Teagan quietly set her food on a small side table before moving to stand beside the crib.

Looking down at the sleeping boy, she couldn't help but snake a hand through the wooden slats and brush a shock of blonde hair from his closed eyes.

[Hobgoblin]

The little form fidgeted at his sister's touch, but swaddled as he was could not move to respond. Still, the familial connection pulled at his fitful conscious. Not knowing why, he awoke with a cry.

The sharp sound echoed out into the hallway, darting around as would a minnow in search of food. Down the hallways and out into the waiting room beyond swam the cry. Its travel effortless, undirected, and yet with an ultimate goal it did not know. For as the minnow finds new purpose after being caught in a fishing net, so did the infant's waking cry as it was caught in the ears of a Jedi Master.


******

"Jedi! The child!"

The small Rodian baby wailed in confused despair. Laying abandoned on the sill of the town belltower was not its fault, it claimed, and it did not need any of this mess.

Lightning struck the spire's roof feet from the center. The overhang buckled, collapsed, and scattered rubble (including what used to be a bell) into the thin spire stairwell below. The sill where the baby lay remained intact, but any expression of nature's current mood would bring it down.

Despite this, the Jedi Master standing in the stairwell maintained an expression of good humor. "Worry not! Not so bad, this storm is! Seen worse, have I!"

A claw pointed. "Down the side you must go! See to the child, I will."

The bounty hunter jumped headlong over the balcony guardrail, the echo of a grapple penetrating the spiretop wall signalling his safe departure. The Jedi Master, meanwhile, faced a different choice. His robes were far less protection against lightning or fall from height than the hunter's armored envirosuit. While leaping over the spireside was the faster choice, it was far less safe. On the other hand, taking the stairwell back down would be safer, but longer during a time window where a second's delay could make him the victim of a life-ending lightning strike.

With the Force a roiling mass of quicksand, detecting a precise future path was impossible. Thankfully, some acts were so big they could not help but be obvious. He had some time - how much was not certain - but the next strike would fall directly on the tower.

The Jedi Master leapt from stair to sill, plucked the baby from the edge, and dove down the bellrope hole back into the tower.



******

"Hm!" he declared, mind returning to the current day. Surely this would be easier than that had been.



To a child before the age of intelligence, the waking world is a dustbowl of confusion. Actions, colors, and sounds all swirl together into a sandstorm. The child, still new to the observation of patterns, tries to piece the world together but inevitably fails. Its attempt at ordered thought gives way to need; need gives way to instinct. The baby cries, knowing why but not understanding that knowledge and thoroughly unable to communicate it.

Nanny droids, while often fluent in millions of forms of expression, are only so good at piecing together those communications. They are excellent at parsing a list of causes and then taking actions assigned as pathways to a potential success state. Sometimes, however, the most successful communication comes from one of the parties being an excellent listener.

And of course, even the best listener benefits from a pair of large green ears.

"A moment, if you please, good droid!" The nanny droid, in the act of fetching the infant from his crib, paused and turned its optical sensor array to the doorway. There it found the face of Jedi Master Hobgoblin, stretching out perpendicular to the middle of the doorframe several feet above his normal height. Two claw-tipped hands gripped the durasteel lining to keep Hob stead while one ear listened, cocked out horizontal like the rest of him.

"Woke him before he was ready, young Miss Tak did," declared the Jedi after a pause. "Only a little fussy, is he. Calm himself shortly, he will."

With the agility of an abruptly-fired pinball, Hob swung from the left side of the doorframe to briefly perch both feet on the right before leaping into the room proper. With a quiet whuff, Hob landed in front of Tak s'Ilancy and smiled. "A long time it has been, my young friend."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

There was a large amount of surprise on her features as she had turned to look at a face she'd not seen in so very long. Though if she was to be honest with herself, the girl had only really seen it once, yet that one time had been so magical and wonderful and amazing...

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Hob - yes! Hob! How could she ever forget him??

Lips parting in a noiseless 'hi', Teagan pulled away from the crib to look at the diminutive Jedi Master as he stood in front of her. All those years back, they'd been eye-level; both the same height. But now? Now she was taller. She'd hit a bit of a growth spurt, and now stood a few inches taller than even those of her own age.

Finally her voice found volume.

"H... Hob?"

Her mother had once said that her imaginary friend had been nothing but a figment of jumbled up bedtime stories, but now, as he stood so jauntily before her, she felt rather vindicated.

And then her smile widened, and the girl swooped down to take him in her arms in a tight embrace.

"Hob!"

[Hobgoblin]

"Hngggh!" His one-time companion was bigger and stronger than he remembered, as was clearly evidenced by the power of her hug-based affection.

And yet, there was something off about it.

Tak released Hob, who dropped to the floor with a thup. He smiled up at her, taking in her expression as he did so. Everything seemed fine...

"Grown, you have!" Hob remarked joyfully. "Big enough to ride on, you are!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Her smile remained, and she crouched down so that she could be on eye level with her small friend.

She reached out to poke a finger at his little chest.

"No riding," came the grinned response.

[Hobgoblin]

Hob puffed out his chest. "No fair!"

A mischievous grin spread across his face. He raised a single clawfinger and tapped it to the tip of Tak's still-outstretched finger. "QT phone home," he rasped comically.

Tak giggled - QT droids were known for their dry communications programming - and withdrew her finger. She opened her mouth, but was distracted by a fidgety baby noise from the crib.

"Hm!" Hob poked his head out from beside Tak and peered through the wooden slats at baby Markos with a challenging expression. "Wondering why the fuss, are we? Hob will show you."

Lifting a tri-clawed hand up above the crib rail, the Jedi Master concentrated. Coalescing ambient energy using the Force was a trick he'd been practicing for ages, but to do it in an entertaining way...

The first globe to rise from Hob's hand was a ball of pure white. It rose slowly, as the sun rises in a morning, and cast a light into the crib. Hob dragged a claw from his other hand across the globe and swirls developed, giving the gentle illusion of a spinning star.

'Not bad,' he thought. 'But better can be done.'

His left hand poked a finger through the globe and several smaller orbs spat out from the opposing side. A bluegreen-patched sphere was the first to take intelligible form. Following quickly, a distorted red orb and a dusty yellow one also spun their way into being. A few smaller orbs of color also fluttered around, weakly gravitating between the ones of any size but never seeming to find a home or a consistent pattern. The display shone and sparkled across the crib and the walls of the room.

Baby Markos cooed and fidgeted, wide eyes occupied by Hob's display. "Yes!" Hob proclaimed. "A solar system, that is. See it someday, you might. Been there recently, Hob has."

He leaned conspiritorally towards Tak. "The Gineedago system it is. Not always welcome newcomers, do they. Something about bad breath - Hob forgets."

With a whiff, Hob withdrew his hand and the globes vanished. The light in the room visibly brightened (energy for his demonstration had to come from somewhere, after all) and he tilted his face in a smug manner. "Not so bad, is Hob?"

The smug expression faded into kindness. "Think he enjoyed it, I do," he whispered-too-loudly to Tak.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

"That was a pretty good trick," she grinned. resting an elbow on the top rung of the crib, Teagan looked down at Hob.

He looked just the same as he had that night that the two had gone on their adventure.

"Seems being Master of Ceremonies hasn't gotten to your head too much."

The young Lupine reached down to give a playfully gentle tug to one of his ears.

Markos fidgeted, but he stopped short of crying out, his little eyes still wide at the memory of what he'd only just seen. A small hand came up and he stuffed three of his fingers into his mouth.

"My mom still doesn't believe me that you're real," Teagan could still remember the look her mother had given her at the mention of a small green creature visiting her. Of course, there had been a funny look by the elder s'Ilancy, but it was fleeting. It was a look that Teagan had caught though. And she most certainly hadn't forgotten it.

"Though she did make a strange face about it. But only for a second."

The girl shrugged.

"Who knows," and then her smile returned.

"Least you're back now. You gonna stick around any longer this time?"

[Hobgoblin]

"Hmph! Too real, Hob is!" A puzzled look encroached on Hob's face, but it disappeared. "Say that right, I think Hob did."

He'd deliberately avoided answering her question immediately, but the flow of conversation would only allow for so long a pause. "Not sure, Hob is."

While it might be easy to take Hob's words as a signal of his impermanence, the thoughtful tone to his voice said something else. "A journey, Hob took. To the far reaches. To the near shores. Found much meaning, did Hob. Only, not certain is Hob where he fits."

Hob waved a claw as a caution. "Not abandoning the Jedi, is Hob," he explained. "But where best to help? That is Hob's question. Know the answer, he does not."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Dividing her attentions between her brother and Hob was easy, and she smiled at the diminutive Jedi Master.

"Well, I suppose you could go and talk to the Council if you're not sure."

A twinkle in her eye gave indication to her next thought.

"Or you could just go and live in the old library. You could make scary sounds and chase Padawans with a little walking stick, then insist they stay off your lawn."

She winked at him, then once more lowered herself to her haunches as her face grew serious and she peered long into his eyes.

"What would you want to do?"

[Hobgoblin]

Hob smiled gently. "Show you, Hob will."

Fishing among his robes, the diminutive Jedi produced a walking stick. The stick came up to Hob's shoulder (how he kept it hidden under the cloak was a puzzle, though Hob's continuous activity stream made it hard to think about curiosities such as that) and had two handgrips along its length. Hob's right hand rested atop a circular knot of wood with runes and indentations around the edge. His left hand he extended to Tak. "Walk with Hob, you will?"

She took his hand and the two of them left Markos' nursery. "Er hee hee, already has his own stick, does Hob," he chortled, as though just noticing how well he fit Tak's description without trying. "All Hob needs now is a lawn!"

Hob's face stayed forward, but his eyes slid to the side. "And how has Tak been, hm? What leads her to Ossus? Not a likely place to find her, Hob would have thought."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Her lunch had been instantly forgotten as they held hands, leaving the nursery behind. She paused in the doorway though to look back at the crib and the boy as he began to move about, now that he was awake. The nanny droid was swift to trundle her way past however, and went about tending to the boy with a quickness. It gave the girl some relief, and clutching Hob's three fingered hand just a little tighter, she let him lead her the rest of the way out. The pair moved into the main area of the infirmary, and it wasn't long before he was taking them to the front doors.

His inquiry was met with an initial silence as they stepped outside into the mid-afternoon sunshine.

"Things are different now," she finally started slowly, her voice suddenly quiet.

How did one even begin to condense the circumstances that had put her on Ossus?? Oh hey, so yeah my Dad was a Sith Lord and my Mom became a Sith too, and he tried to kill all the Jedi, and almost killed my mom, but she lived and then came back, and then my Dad's ship crashed and he died.

She looked away to the ground as they walked. It seemed that nothing was ever very easy to explain anymore, and so she went with the most simple way she could think of.

"My Mom felt it best that me an' my brother be here, with the Jedi."

[Hobgoblin]

"Short, your story is. More to tell, you have." Hob regarded his companion. "But tell it, you need not. Glad to see Tak, is Hob, and that gladness is enough."

The sunshine was warm and inviting. Hob led Tak along a somewhat schizophrenic path, as though he were following a trail only he could pick out. Eventually, the two of them came to a standing stop atop a hill overlooking part the settlement's edge.

"Heavy is your heart." Hob gestured towards Tak's chest with his cane hand. "For one so young, this is a great tragedy. The young should be learning, enjoying life. Not carrying the weight of worlds on their shoulders."


******

Hob fled down the spire bellhole, leaping from wall to wall like fleas migrating between Cizerack. The danger sense in the back of his mind grew louder and more ominous, a quiet push building into pressure intense enough to convert coal to diamonds.

Taking a chance, Hob leapt out a nearby window, his small frame barely making it through the slit in the wall. Behind him he heard the tower contain the force of a second lightning strike and knew that even with his speed, he'd cut it close.

Fortunately, the extra time he'd spent in the tower had brought Hob far enough down to survive the jump he ultimately had to make onto the roof. There was only one problem: the building was a church, the township modest, and the roof sloping. Hob's triclawed feet landed on curved cobblestone shingles, several rows of which immediately gave way. They slid towards the roof edge, carrying Hob with them.

Hob tried to take stock of his current situation even as he fought for balance on his precarious ride down the roof. The church roof stood a good fifty feet above the ground level. With his skills in the Force, a fall wouldn't likely kill him. The risk to the Rodian child he held was far greater. Anything other than a gentle landing might snap the bawling babe's neck.

With risks mounting on all sides, Hob put all his focus into perfectly executing the only action that seemed to make any sense: a last-second leap of faith from the roof to the nearby church flagpole.

As he leapt, he expanded his senses back to their normal reach. An immediate spike in his danger sense told Hob knew he'd chosen a course of action that put him and the child at risk.



******



Hob gestured again, this time at a group of young children playing scramball not far from the hill. Pointed laughter floated up as the ball overshot one of the children. "No fair!" he yelled, and stomped in the direction of the lost ball.

"Though, come to think of it, Hob never really got such a chance himself," he mused. "Exiled from his people, was Hob. Spent many years wandering the galaxy, he did. Apart from any home or Jedi; a lonely journey it was, though often interesting."

Hob's face tilted in a funny way. "If memory serves, a similar life, young Tak has led? Hm?"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Her eyes went from the children below to Hob, and she listened intently as he spoke. It was a strange thing to hear, that a being as thoughtful and kind as he could be exiled from anywhere. She could still remember so well their small adventure, and the excited energy that he possessed.

She opened her mouth to question how such a thing could even come about, but his last words caused her to hold up, and she found herself looking away.

"I s'ppose," she began slowly. It had certainly not been a quiet life she'd had so far. From Cathar to Layla to Dauntless, to Schwrtzeld, and then a jarring move to Cloud City. Her time with Feathers, and back to Dauntless before a short stay on Schwartzweld with Uncle Rasmuss and finally here, to Ossus. By thirteen years old, she'd already called more places 'home' than most kids her age could. It was a realization that made her dip her head, bangs falling forward to cover her eyes.

A long breath escaped her lips as she let go of his hand, sinking to the ground to sit, her legs half-curled beneath her body.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she finally conceded.

[Hobgoblin]

"Mope so hard, you should not," Hob peered owlishly at Tak. "Wrinkles will get you."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Snapping her head up to look at him, Teagan blinked wide eyes at her diminutive companion.

"That's- " And then her eyes narrowed as one corner of her lip ticked upward. It was hard not to depressed around him.

She reached out to tick a fingernail on his walking stick.

"Harder to do than it is to say."

[Hobgoblin]

"Mope, mope, mope!" Hob jutted a chin out. "Made of mope, you are!"

Hob stabbed his walking stick into the earth, placed a hand atop it, then lifted his entire body up to balance on the stick. "Why, when surrounded by such a big, wide universe of things, is there reason to mope?"

With his free hand, Hob pointed at the bright yellow ball in the sky. "Ever seen the heart of a star, have you? Not with eyes, but with the Force. Hob has! Amazing! Wonderful!"

With a shuffling effort, Hob spun his balancing hand so he was upside-down-facing Tak. "So young, you are, and yet so much you have seen! Hob envies you. At your age, Hob's people had not yet asked he leave their homeworld. The same thing everyday, saw Hob. But you-" there was a pause, half for emphasis, half for time to remember "-Teagan s'Ilancy, have seen much more!"

"The greatest thing you have seen - tell Hob!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Now that was something she had to think hard on. The greatest thing she'd ever seen? To her recollection nothing amazing really stood out. Everything had been a culmination of happiness that ultimately plunged into sadness. Not once had could she recall a time when something good stayed good. Still though, Teagan stared at Hob, locking her eyes with his as she let herself fall back into her memories.


She could remember running about the great citadel that had been her and her mother's home on Cathar, barefooted and happily spouting nonsense to the small giddu dog that jumped all around her. The pup, San-San Akhu, had been her pet, a gift from Dama on her second birthday, and the two had become inseparable. Inseparable until... she'd had to leave him behind on Cathar when they left with Sanis. It'd broken her heart, and for weeks the girl had secretly cried heartbroken tears whenever she was alone.

And then there was the time spent with Sanis and Cirr aboard Layla, and making friends with Daani, and meeting Zem. Everything had been a blur, but it had been a roller coaster of fun that she fondly remembered. Until Korriban. She could still remember the panic and desperation when Zem had brought her mother back aboard. The scent of blood, the hurried efforts of Sanis to keep her away from the sight of her mother so badly injured...

And then she'd met her dad for the very first time. It hadn't been how she'd imagined, but it was wonderful all the same. And even better, the two had convinced her mother to come back, and live aboard Dauntless. It had been so magical, and made even better by her parent's declaration that they would be moving to Schwartzweld to live together as a real family. Until she'd been sent away. Sent away from her parents to be with Zem on Cloud City. At least she was with Zem, but the terrible sting of not having her parents...

It had been a healthy amount of luck that'd brought her back to both mother and father. But it was luck that she was unwilling to question. She had her family once more. She had everything. Everything and more. Their family had grown, with the birth of Markos; she could still remember her mother's exhaustion, and the tiny babe so tenderly wrapped up and cared for. He'd been so tiny and helpless, a new life that held so much innocence. Until the unthinkable. Until everything fell apart.

The day she'd been told that her dad had died had been the worst day of her life. It had crushed her so completely. It had torn out her heart and thrown it away. Even now she refused to go see the destroyed hulk of the Dauntless.

Even now she was picking up so many shreds of what used to be happiness. It was a very long process, to say the least.

"I really don't know," came her eventual answer. She still tried to think of something, though.

"Maybe... maybe when I visited Schwartzweld for the first time. I'd seen pictures in my books, and my Dama would tell me stories of it," a wistful smile settled on her features.

"It was so much better than the pictures I'd seen, and what I imagined. It was wild and beautiful, and there was so much life. Even if all the old manors were empty and crumbling, it was still so pretty. We came in when the sun was just coming up, and I remember everything getting brighter and more alive as the morning went on."

She sighed at the memory.

"I don't think I'll ever forget it."

[Hobgoblin]

Hob upside-down-scrutinized Tak's expression. She was lost in her memories, and Hob could feel Longing leaning down and beckoning her further in.

A whump marked his abrupt drop back to the ground. "Come with Hob."

His voice rang with an insistence that drew Tak's attention. After a moment, she took his outstretched hand.

The goblin trundled off with Tak in tow, his small feet moving with a new haste. They walked in silence for five, perhaps ten minutes, through the forest near the Ossus encampment. It did not take long before the pair broke through to an open field of grasses and brush. Clambering atop a nearby rock, Hob eyed the field from end to end and nodded. It would do.

"Now," Hob instructed, settling onto the rock and closing his eyes. "This Schmutzweld you speak of. Close your eyes and picture it."

Almost without trying, the image of a castle ballooned into Hob's thoughts. The stone walls were old, older than Hob was, neglected and yet cared for. The trees grew into and out of the rock, both overgrown and cultivated. The odd dichotomy of wild-blended-into-cultured reflected in everything about the building and the grounds. Without knowing exactly how, Hob knew it resonated with Tak. Hers was a soul longing to embody those things in their combined state without knowing quite how to get there.

Or so it seemed to Hob, anyway.

As in the nursery, it had to start with an energy source. Fortunately, the afternoon sun provided the perfect supply. Glimmering solar molecules fell from the sky where Hob's gentle web of woven Force caught them. Wrapping them up in the emotion, the pull that Hob could feel within Tak, was not easy work but Hob kept at it. He eventually completed his creation and, without knowledge of whether the effort took moments or minutes, announced to Tak. "Open your eyes."

When she did, she saw a quietly meditating Hobgoblin framed by Schwartzweld castle, standing among the trees of Ossus exactly as she remembered it.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

The first thing she saw as she opened her eyes was the crumbling, overgrown edifices of the Losstarot Manorhouse. It jutted skyward, reaching for the clouds with hungry buttresses and vine-wrapped spires.

The young Lupine felt her jaw open in a silent 'wow', and she craned her neck upwards to take in the entirety of the sight before her. It was massive, and shimmered in the sunlight, taking up the entirety of the clearing.

"That's... amazing, she finally whispered out.

And truly it was. The girl let out a long sigh as she blinked, hoping that the vision wouldn't disappear. Thankfully it didn't. Finally her eyes traced down to Hob.

"How'd you do that?"

[Hobgoblin]

Focused as he was, Hob felt Tak's emotions more than he heard her question. She was a mix of awe and wistfulness with a lining of homesickness somewhere around the edges. Still, he was busy. The flows would not maintain themselves.

Although, Hob could loop them. The resulting image wouldn't be perfect, but it would remain stable for a minute or so. Long enough for Hob to see what Tak saw.

Opening his eyes, the Jedi Master turned around. Though he delighted in his handiwork, bits of it were already starting to fray and fog. It was possible Tak hadn't noticed, taken as she was with the image. Then he remembered she'd said something earlier. What had it been? Was it...

Was it 'Cow has a new hat?'

No, surely not. That would be silly. It had to be something else. Something like 'Hob you are too fat.'

Hob poked his belly. This, too, seemed off.

Maybe it had been 'Who is that new cat?' No. He was talking with Tak, not Kazahan.

'Where is the blue mat?' Still no. 'What is a huge flat?' Nope. 'Why get a flu patch?' Reasonable, but unlikely. 'How did you do that?' No, that wasn't-

Wait. What was that last one?

'How did you do that?'

There. That had to be it.

Feeling rather pleased with himself for having put the pieces together correctly, Hob addressed his young charge. "With the Force, a Jedi can accomplish all things. And so can Hob, as long as there is energy to use!"

For a moment, Hob allowed himself to take in the castle and its structures. "Quite a feat of engineering, this is. How built, was it? And how long did the building take?"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

For the moment she was lost in the sight of the manor house before her, and despite the fraying edges slowly pulling it back out of existence, Teagan drank in each little bit of it that she could. At Hob's question though, she let out a sigh before slowly lowering herself to sit cross-legged on the soft grass. She reached over to tug at a small broken twig, lifting it up to balance it on her fingers.

"I dunno. My Mom knows all that stuff though. She misses it more than I do. She would tell me stories when I was younger, from the big books that she kept. They were old stories about our people... before they disappeared. About how they lived and what they did and the wars that they fought."

A last wistful look to the fading vision before them.

"She always told the best stories."

[Hobgoblin]

Stories? Hob had stories.

"Earlier, you asked Hob what Hob would like to do with himself," Hob began, his voice unusually thoughtful. "At the time, Hob said he would show you. The truth is, Hob did not have a good answer. But Hob does have an answer! Just not one that can be shown. "

Hob's pensive expression transmuted itself into his usual grin. "So! Here is what Hob will do to answer you," he smiled at Tak. "Hob will tell you a story."

The diminutive goblin clambered back onto the rock and patted the space next to him. "Sit! And Hob will tell you the tale of when he rescued a child..."


#######


The danger from a lightning strike was large and omnipresent, much like the storms that spawned such strikes. Lightning would choose the path of least resistance to the ground. If you were that path, it would follow you until you were not.

This danger was much more specific. It was tracking his movements in the air, waiting to-

PEW! PEW! FZZT! FZZ-CRACK!

Hob's lightsaber leapt from his belt of its own volition, igniting and hurling itself into the path of an incoming blaster bolt. The bolt deflected, but a second bolt hit the saber handle. The saber exploded into a shower of sparks and dropped to the ground.

The sacrifice, however, proved worth it. Hob caught the flagpole, slid down it, and landed safely. He tucked the child in an alcove by the church, sheltered from the storm.

"You're pathetic, Jedi!"

The tiny Rodian baby stopped crying at the noise. It looked up at Hob with wide eyes. Hob touched a claw to its snout-nose. "Boop!"

The baby giggled, but Hob was already turning away to meet his adversary. His ears stood straight, his face stern. "Garidan Strengor. Long in coming, our meeting was."

A bald man with an intense black beard, sunken, hateful eyes, and pallid skin stood across the courtyard. From shoulder extended an arm with a blaster; from the other shoulder extended a bionic arm of spikes and jagged edges. Electricity danced from finger to mechanical finger. "It will be short," promised Garidan, and from each hand fired weapons.

Hob stepped forward into a palm-out squat. The blasterfire passed above his head, while the electric shock pulse met Hob's hand. Hob spun backwards, the electricity caught in a looping Force flow that Hob released on his backswing.

Garidan roared in fury and swatted the shock pulse into the ground with his mechanical one. The living arm continued to fire blaster bolts at Hob, but the moment Garidan used to swat the pulse away was the moment Hob sprung into action.

The two combatants were a blur of black and green. Garidan's attack was easy to identify: he littered the courtyard with blasterfire and electricity. Hob, on the other hand, remained constantly on the move, never ending in the place where threats materialized themselves.

The longer this continued, the greater Garidan's expressions of fury. "You will not stop me!" he bellowed. "That bounty hunter will not stop me. This planet will be mine and its people will obey or die!"

The air near Garidan grew heavy and oppressive. A shock of lightning struck the ground, illuminating Garidan's vicious sneer. "Do you like my storm, Jedi?"

He gazed up at dark clouds flickering and flashing. "The town that dared to deny me what I deserve will burn!" he shouted at the sky.

Three simultaneous lightning strikes leapt from the clouds at once, aiming to give Hob the fate promised the town.


######



"And then, the lightning came for Hob!" Hob stood on the rock, gesturing wildly to depict the story and Tak beside him, listening intently.

Suddenly, he paused. "Oh!" he exclaimed, and stared straight at Tak. "In all the excitement, Hob forgot! You left your lunch back at the nursery!"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

She'd been so engrossed in his story that the young Lupine started in a bit of surprise as Hob mentioned her forgotten lunch. A moment of thought, and she waved away his concern.

"It's ok, I'm not very hungry. I can always go back and get it later anyway."

One leg pulled itself up, and she wrapped her arms around it as she rested her cheek on her knee, a sideways glance to him becoming intensely inquisitive.

"So, the lightning... did it get you?"

[Hobgoblin]

Hob sat back down, the barest hint of a twinkle creeping into his eyes. "Hob will continue."


######

Energy was like water - always flowing downhill using the path of least resistance. Also like water, the greater amount of water heading in one direction, the more difficult it was to stop it all. But both energy and water could be channeled, directed, such that their force diminished.

Hob took a leaping step, placing him beyond the range of two of the lightning bolts. As he landed beneath the third bolt's impact location, Hob brought his hands above his head. Hob's neck hair stiffened ever-so-slightly with electrical charge -

- and then the Jedi Master began actively wielding the Force in a way he usually refused to.

Above Hob's hands gathered an intense heat. Anyone viewing the infrared spectrum would see Hob himself become a shimmering cone of energy. A patchwork cloak of sunburst yellows and blues took shape around his form. Above and beside him, pockets of cooler air formed. The pockets lengthened into channels, which rose to meet the incoming lightning.

The lightning bolt filled the channels like water, energy rushing in, splitting, and following the new path of least resistance Hob created. As the lightning bolt forked and struck the ground on either side of Hob, he knelt, lowering his arms to his sides in a single, smooth, sweeping motion.

For a moment after the lightning impact, the galaxy stood awestruck, its voices silent.

Hob held the Force in place with a gradually relaxing grip. The air around him returned to equilibrium. The energy from the lightning strike already dissipated harmlessly into the ground. Wisps of black smoke rose from the impact points. Behind Hob, a pair of slightly thicker plumes lifted from the impact sites of the other two lightning bolts.

Hob rose, flanked by the lightning smoke and frowned at Garidan.

"You are not kind."

Garidan's expression morphed from surprise at Hob's survival, to sneering disdain at his declaration, back to surprise as a mag-grapple latched itself to his bionic arm. Electricity crackled from the arm, but failed to affect the grapple. A pull on the grapple spun Garidan around to face his second attacker. Hovering in the air roughly thirty feet away was a bounty hunter in a set of copycat Mandalorian armor, complete with jetpack.

"Gaireedin Straengor," said the hunter, continuing to pull on the grapple. "On be'alf a the unoi'ed ci'izenry a this planet, yoi're unda arrest."

Garidan had been evading the hunter, but it was clearly time to squash this bothersome gnat. The arm with the blaster came up, intent on ending the hunter's interference permanently.

The blaster, however, had other ideas. At the last moment, the muzzle twisted, pointing at Garidan's bionic arm instead of the hunter.

Caught completely off guard, Garidan could not react to the change in any way that prevented what came next. Already in the act, Garidan fired off two shots before he took his finger from the trigger. The first shot burned away the weaker plating of the underarm. The second detonated the arm's sizeable power source, exploding it in a brilliant flash. Dumbfounded, Garidan could not close his eyes or look away.

The last thing he saw before the world burned away into darkness was a brief glimpse of sky.

Garidan hit the ground hard. Though his spirit desired to leap back into combat, Garidan found his body unwilling to make the same commitment. His equilibrium refused to right itself. Garidan's face felt hot; he reached out an arm to lever himself back to his feet, forgetting that the arm he chose was in tatters. The arm could support no weight, a discovery he made when the weight of his upper body crushed the remaining mechanisms into the ground with a loud crunch. Defeated, lying on the ground with the wet dirt cooling his burned skin, the blinded Garidan Strengor reached out with the Force to gain some sense of the world.

What he saw baffled him. Hobgoblin burned, bright as a star.

Most normal beings barely registered as sparks in the Force. Jedi, even Padawans, lit it like lanterns. Jedi Masters, when not concealing themselves, shone like floodlamps. That Hobgoblin shone brighter than the Jedi he'd seen suggested a far greater power. A power Garidan should have sensed long before now.

Then Hob touched Garidan's forehead with a claw and he understood.

Terror bubbled up from Garidan's soul, but had no time to spur him into action. The brilliance quickly overwhelmed his Force connection. The last image of any kind Garidan Strengor saw was the burning image of Hobgoblin as he passed judgement.

"N-no!" Garidan swung his good arm up, but it was an empty act. No Force push accompanied his action, his emotion fueling no attack. A stun bolt struck him and he fell back to the ground, palsying and thrashing. Cold metal encircled his wrists and ankles. Above, he heard the crack of thunder and the sudden release of rain. Without his power to keep it in check, the storm would now take the natural course of all storms - spend its energy and dissipate.

Garidan Strengor lay on the ground, wallowing in mud and failure. His now-sightless eyes stared in the direction of the rain. "Why," he asked of the sky.

Hobgoblin's voice, a whisper in his ear, provided the only answer. "You are not kind."

######

"And so, rather than kill his enemy and spur greater violence, Hob blinded him to the Force," Hob said. "That is what Hob would do: promote peace without the cost of life wherever possible and allow the young to grow into greatness."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

She'd been so engrossed in the telling of his tale, that Teagan barely noticed as the last whispers of the illusionary manorhouse passed into nothingness like a handful of chaff thrown into a gale wind. She hung on his every word, enraptured and utterly taken by the story he told... and yet... there was something in his words that instilled within her the knowledge that this was more than a mere story. She held a notion that - like so many of the histories that her mother had often told her - there was truth in this. Unlike the words her mother often spoke though, there was a truth in every single word that Hob spoke. It was no slight against her mother, but there was a definite difference that she could pick out. To some it might've seemed subtle, but to her the difference was easy to discern.

It was only as his last words were spoken that she let out a pent-up breath that she'd not been aware of holding. Exhaling a long breath, the girl rocked back a small bit.

"I didn't know it was possible to take the Force away from someone," she finally whispered. It was, in a way, a worrying revelation.

"Is it... is it hard to do?"

[Hobgoblin]

Hob nodded, his face cast in both sadness and seriousness. "One must conquer the will of one's opponent. If weakened through combat, or self-doubt, or pain, easier to dominate, it is."

The goblin's expression turned thoughtful. "Sense in the Force is like an eye or an ear. If more comes in than the sense can take, the sense falls silent. On occasions, restored, Force connections may be, but never without great skill. And equally great sacrifice."

Hob looked sorrowfully at Tak. "Another way, Hob wishes there was. And yet, when faced with a choice to kill, Hob believes no choice, there is."

"In Hob's place, what would you have done? And why?" The question was sincere.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

She sat in silence, thinking on his question. It was weighted, and as she stared into the woods beyond the copse, Teagan bit her lower lip in thought. The notion that anyone could strip away another person's ability to use the Force was a horrible one, but it still skirted around the issue of outright killing. It seemed the most prudent course of action, though if what he said was true, and that it was difficult to do, then even someone who wished not to kill another - yet wasn't powerful enough to pull the Force away - was left with only the one recourse. It was an idea that she was troubled by. But, it was also one that gave her a small glimmer of hope. it was that hope that she clung to.

"I would've done the same," she finally got out. Her voice was quiet, and she turned her head to look at Hob.

"If it means not having to kill someone, then I'd do it."

[Hobgoblin]

Hob sighed, releasing a great deal of pent up tension the goblin hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Blinding someone to the Force had always seemed an extreme choice, and yet, as he'd told Tak, he saw no choice in the matter. "Hob is glad to hear he is not alone."

The goblin stood, then shuffled over to sit side-by-side with Tak. A grateful hand reached up and tousled her hair, then snuck around her side to give her a hug. "Great kindness in you, there is. Perhaps in your mother, a good teacher you had."

After short silence, Hob tilted his head to look up at his younger-but-larger companion. "Hob would like you to know he believes in you, Teagan s'Ilancy. Hob knows not what path you will take in the future, but any path you choose to walk, to great things will it lead."

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

The hug wasn't expected, but she instantly found herself winding an arm over the top of his shoulders and pulling him close in a firm hold. It felt... natural. It felt right. And in some ways, Hob felt like home. She couldn't help the smile creeping across her lips at the thought.

"I don't know what path I'm supposed to take either, but thanks."

So much seemed to melt away, all of the heavy thoughts and weighty decisions that she'd felt pushed under by. It was all slid to the side, and the young Lupine felt a strange sense of renewal course through her.

She gave another heartfelt squeeze.

"If I was supposed to choose a master," the girl leaned over to give him a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"I would choose you."

[Hobgoblin]

Tak s'Ilancy needed a teacher in the Jedi way? And she would want Hob?

...

Hob?

...

Hob??????

...

Well, of course. Who wouldn't want Hob to be their teacher? There was no one else who was Hob!

But, could Hob be a teacher again?

Hob had certainly taught Jedi before. He'd most recently trained Alex Coal, but that was different. Alex had been an adult looking for guidance with a specific direction, which Hob had provided. Tak was as much a Padawan looking for instruction as she was a child looking for a way in the universe. Hob was not certain he could raise a child, and yet...

And yet, why not?

"A master, you say?" said Hob. He leaned into Tak's hug and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Hob will tell you a secret. Hob is a Jedi Master. And Hob has seen..."

Hob trailed off, a note of awe in his voice. "So much. So much, has Hob seen. And so much he knows!"

"Would you like to travel with Hob and learn?"

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

It was a bit of a revelation of sorts, and Teagan pulled away with a note of surprise written very plainly across her features. She held his shoulder with one hand, holding him at a somewhat arm's length while giving him a critical once-over. Then a twice-over. And for good measure a third-over.

"You're a Jedi Master?"

She studied him.

He had been, first and foremost, an imaginary friend. From so long ago, he'd been the great master of ceremonies who'd taken her out and shown her a life beyond that had been wondrous and so bright and full of excitement and life. And then? In this last day - in this very day - he'd become a recurrence. A happy distraction from the normal drudgery of her daily life that'd given her a glimpse into the old days.

She angled her head then, peering into his eyes with a deeper intent to understand, and her voice lowered to a whisper.

"You're a Jedi Master?"

[Hobgoblin]

"Is Hob a Jedi Master?" Hob's eyes bulged in a sort of goofy disbelief - the disbelief one expresses when confronted with something so against all evidence, denying the truth of it seems nigh impossible.

Wrestling free from Tak's grip on his shoulder. the goblin held up a finger commanding Tak to stay put. He hopped off the rock, backwards-walked a few feet away, and finally shrugged his shoulders in a hands-lifted, palms upward gesture.

The rock they'd sat on, apparently tired of hugging the ground, decided it would hug the air instead. It slowly rose into the air, coming to a stop the goblin's own height off the ground.

Hob re-shrugged his shoulders and repeated "Is Hob a Jedi Master?" with equal incredulousness to his earlier version of the statement.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

She felt the tremor, felt the rumbling shake as the rock she was sitting on pulled itself free from the earth to rise into the air. There was a brief moment of worry as she scrambled to as safe of a perch as she could manage, and the Lupine found herself now crouched at the uppermost crest of the rock face, her body tense as arms and legs held her steady, eyes staring down in wide-eyed fascination, down to Hob. If she wasn't so startled, she would've surmised that she looked not too dissimilar to one of those Galactic superheroes that Wyl used to talk about - AraquiaMan? More than likely. On all fours, her eyes flashed a brief tawny yellow in surprise as she hunched her body low, centering her gravity to compensate.

And yet, there was nothing else.

Only the lingering question that Hob had tossed into the air as effortlessly as he'd brought up the rock.

She blinked wide eyes at him, and gave a silent nod before words finally found purchase in her throat.

"Yes... " she coughed, trying to dispel her shock.

"Yes, I'd say you are."

[Hobgoblin]

The rock, apparently tired of hovering, slowly settled itself back onto the ground and took a long nap. Hobgoblin, meanwhile, remained standing where he was, arms folded and impatiently tapping one foot. "Answer Hob's other question, you did not," he asked in a mildly disapproving tone. "Hob is waiting."

A twinkle crept into the goblin's eye and he winked.

[Teagan s'Ilancy]

Still her body remained a crouching bundle of tense muscles, peering down at Hob as he waited for her answer.

Another few seconds passed as she licked her lips, letting out a long breath before allowing her precarious hold on the rock loosen.

"I... I think... "

It was strange, to be looking down at the one that she'd for som long considered to be nothing more than a childhood fantasy. An imaginary friend. And yet, here he was in the flesh. And more than that, he had offered to show her the Force, and to teach her. He wanted her to travel with him, to show her so much. It truly was an offer that for her - so singularly - was suited.

Her heart dared to skip a beat, and like some Corellian spider she slinked down from the rock to half-stand, half-crouch in front of Hob so that the two were now eye level.

"I would."

[Hobgoblin]

“Then settled, it is!” Hob jumped a small, joyous jump. “To tell the Council, we shall go!”

Hob’s walking stick, which had until now lain on the ground by the rock napping, awoke and leapt from its bed straight into the air. Hob caught the stick with a deft grab. He then tucked the stick beneath one arm, lifted one leg out straight, spun 180 degrees, and began what could only be described as a comic march along the path back to the Jedi settlement. Tak scrambled after him, quickly catching up and falling in stride beside him.

They’d walked for a few minutes when Tak suddenly said aloud: “Master Hob.”

Her voice, her tone, suggested she was getting used to the idea of Hob as her Jedi Master. Still, the title made Hob frown. “Pff! Like the title of Master, Hob does not. Hob believes of titles that they are labels used by other beings to explain what should be self-evident. Do not call Hob Master.”

“So what should I call you?” asked Tak, confused.

“Between us, Hob can be Hob, and you can be Tak!” Hob stated brightly.

“No! I can’t just not call you anything. I mean, what if I have to explain why we’re travelling together? People are gonna wonder why I’m running around with a goofy green goblin.”

This was logic Hob could not refute, yet it did not sway his decision. “Not Master. Hob refuses to be called Master. Own Tak, Hob does not.”

“Well, what about Revered Jedi?”

A pall of seriousness fell across Hob’s face and he shook his head. “To be known as a Jedi, a dangerous thing is. Announce it, we should not. And besides, if necessary to use the Force it becomes, self-evident will the title be. Just as Hob said!”

The young woman, now a Jedi Padawan in spirit, pursed her lips and thought hard. The two of them walked (or in Hob’s case, comically marched) for several minutes in silence. “I’ve got it,” Tak said finally. “Seha'ra'ss'ad Seh'ana.”

Hob froze in mid-step. “Er-wha?”

“Seha'ra'ss'ad Seh'ana,” Tak repeated. “It’s from my Mom’s language.

“Harassing Sahara?” Hob’s failed attempt to put the name into practice elicited a giggle from Tak. “Hob got it wrong, didn’t he?”

“Seha'ra'ss'ad Seh'ana,” Tak explained slowly, emphasizing the key syllables.

Hob did not repeat his attempt to pronounce the words, instead moving on to another point. “This phrase. What means it?”

“Revered Storyteller,” Tak said with pride.

Well, Hob did have stories.

The goblin mulled the title over in his head. Revered Storyteller Hob. No, not the ‘revered’ part. Just, ‘Storyteller Hob’. It was truth, it was disguise, it gave a reason for being everywhere and a job to do anywhere – and it certainly fit. More than that, though, there was something extra about that title Hob liked though his claw could not scratch why.

“Seh’ana Hob. Storyteller Hob.” It fit when he said it out loud, too. “Yes. Hob likes this name.”

Satisfied, he turned to grin at Tak. “Come! Let us tell our story!”

[Redik]

It was a little shop.

The sign on the shop said: Greedan Strong’s Apothecary. Although it had windows to the outside, they were closed. Thin slits of light illuminated the shop's interior - though there were clearly light fixtures, they were not on. Not during the daytime, at least. Probably not at night either.

Scattered around the shop were various planters on various tables. Most of them grew some kind of leafy shrub or cluster of fungus. There were a few flowers, but little variation in the color. The plants all had some medicinal use, depending on your species.

The shop had an owner - an aging man in a black leather vest. His skin was hale and tan, but wrinkled with decades of age. There was some strength in his frame, but clearly his prime was well-past. One of his arms was not flesh - it was a mechanical arm that gave the occasional whirr and clunk when its owner need something done with it.

It was a little shop with a little shop bell that rang as the little shop door opened.

“Excuse me,” said a voice. “I’m looking for Garidan Strengor.”

Greedan looked in the direction of the voice, giving the arrival a once-over.

The stranger was dressed in the most nondescript dress one could imagine. Simple brown tunic, darker brown trousers with a rope belt, and faded boots that cracked at the rim where heel and sole joined. Despite how innocuous he seemed, however, there was a faint menace in his face. Especially around the eyes.

“Ain’t no one here by that name-” Greedan cut himself off with a coughing fit.

The stranger burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm sorry. This is rich. I heard a tale- well, clearly you and the Jedi had your little tiff decades ago. Thought it'd been more recent. How far back was it? Twenty, thirty years, I'm guessing?"

"I said-" Greedan slammed his fist onto the table. Or tried to. The arm clicked and whirred, spitting out ratcheting noises until finally it rose and slammed the fist down. "I said, ain't no one here by that name."

"And what's this?" the stranger's composure utterly dissolved at the display. "Is that arm entirely spare parts? And did- hahaha- did you salvage an old Trade Federation droid? Are you wearing one of their scanners as a vision aid?"

Greedan spun around. "Get out."

"Ha, ha, I'm terribly sorry," the man apologized, gaining control over his sense of humor almost as quickly as it had come on. "Forgive me, I wasn't expecting something so - patchwork."

The stranger began wandering in Greedan's direction, curious eyes examining the plants as he went. "I need information. You have knowledge I want. Experience I need. I have certain, let's say, skills, that need developing. Plans that need to come to fruition."

"In return, I think I can offer you something you're missing. Return something you've lost."

Greedan took a long look at the approaching stranger, then turned back to his table. "I ain't got nothin to give to anyone," he responded. "And any idiot who heard that fool tale you're talking about could see there's no truth in it. 'Sides, even if there were truth to it, what good would it do to change anything now? You'd just be toying with the fancies of an old, feeble man."

"I think," said the stranger, his voice full of the promise of menace, "that it would do me plenty of good."

A voice, a presence, started whispering in his head. At first, it coaxed and cajoled, but it quickly rose in volume and became a shouting command. "Get out," Garidan Strengor whispered hoarsely, dropping any pretense of accent or disguise. This time, the droid arm was more responsive when it slammed into his worktable. "Your tricks won't work on me. You get out of my head and you leave."

"Ha!" the stranger laughed again. "Look at you! Resisting intrusion into your mind after decades of being cut off from the Force. That takes some talent! Strength! And to think, you said you didn't have it in you."

"Who are you?"

"Redik," answered the stranger. "My name is Redik. But it's probably not a very useful piece of information."

"You look like the kind who knows a lot already," Garidan regarded the intruder very, very carefully. "Seems you know enough to tell some stories."

"Oh, I'm no storyteller," Redik dismissed the idea with a hand wave. "I'm more of an editor. I mix things around - things like thoughts, organs, people's lives - in ways that make them better. And helpful to me, of course."

Redik leaned forward and gazed into the mechanical apparatus that took the place of Garidan Strengor's blinded eyes. "And there are some changes I'd like to make."