The Jedi looked at Swenson curiously.
“Who are you?” questioned the Tarasin.
“You seek to know who I am, as you always have,” replied Swenson’s mouth, “you seek to live with me daily. And yet you do not know me.”
The Tarasin squinted his eyes, and reached down to pick up a broken pipe from his escape pod’s wreckage. He rose and spat on the ground. Brandishing his new weapon, the Jedi strode towards Bob with a deep, determined fire within his soul.
“You mock me,” accused the Tarasin, “and yet we were both prisoners of the same Sith.”
“You are mistaken,” replied the body wryly.
The Jedi rushed into a headlong charge. Swenson’s cuffed hands rose up quickly; energy rushed in from his surroundings and surged through his body. His mind twitched in pain, yet his body stood transfixed; steadfast in its conqueror’s purpose. Air currents swirled around the Jensaarai’s outstretched hands, and surged forward in a concentrated burst at the Jedi. The wind knocked the Jedi off of his feet and carried him off for several feet. The Tarasin landed with a skid and cry off horrid pain as the ground tore at his exposed back, leaving more bruises and cuts. The Jedi moaned in pain, and Swenson’s bewildered mind noticed his body was marching over towards his wounded foe.
“You have failed in your quest,” spoke Swenson’s mouth, “the treaty has now been signed. Yet why do you persist in your rebellion? The people here welcome the Confederation with open arms, open hearts. They see the prosperity the change will bring them. Yet you continue to be blind, chasing and attacking peoples who never were; by willing being blinded through your master, and you refuse to see what is in front of your eyes. I know you, Garask, and I know your master, Sarcev Quest. You are a fool to follow him if you really believe in the Jedi’s code, and the Order’s history. I hope you will learn something, novice. I will allow you to go free, but you must do me one thing.”
“What is that?” frowned the Jedi.
“Tell him that I know his plans, and that they are foolish. If he keeps meddling in my affairs, he will regret it. That is all. Go.”
“But..how can I?”
Swenson’s mouth curled into a grin. “You are skilled in your healing arts. I know how much time you have spent practicing them. Heal yourself, physician. If you must, there is medpac right over there. Goodbye, Garask.”
At that, Swenson’s body turned about, and began to walk along the path to the gate of Hotel Melbourne.
“Who are you?” questioned the Tarasin.
“You seek to know who I am, as you always have,” replied Swenson’s mouth, “you seek to live with me daily. And yet you do not know me.”
The Tarasin squinted his eyes, and reached down to pick up a broken pipe from his escape pod’s wreckage. He rose and spat on the ground. Brandishing his new weapon, the Jedi strode towards Bob with a deep, determined fire within his soul.
“You mock me,” accused the Tarasin, “and yet we were both prisoners of the same Sith.”
“You are mistaken,” replied the body wryly.
The Jedi rushed into a headlong charge. Swenson’s cuffed hands rose up quickly; energy rushed in from his surroundings and surged through his body. His mind twitched in pain, yet his body stood transfixed; steadfast in its conqueror’s purpose. Air currents swirled around the Jensaarai’s outstretched hands, and surged forward in a concentrated burst at the Jedi. The wind knocked the Jedi off of his feet and carried him off for several feet. The Tarasin landed with a skid and cry off horrid pain as the ground tore at his exposed back, leaving more bruises and cuts. The Jedi moaned in pain, and Swenson’s bewildered mind noticed his body was marching over towards his wounded foe.
“You have failed in your quest,” spoke Swenson’s mouth, “the treaty has now been signed. Yet why do you persist in your rebellion? The people here welcome the Confederation with open arms, open hearts. They see the prosperity the change will bring them. Yet you continue to be blind, chasing and attacking peoples who never were; by willing being blinded through your master, and you refuse to see what is in front of your eyes. I know you, Garask, and I know your master, Sarcev Quest. You are a fool to follow him if you really believe in the Jedi’s code, and the Order’s history. I hope you will learn something, novice. I will allow you to go free, but you must do me one thing.”
“What is that?” frowned the Jedi.
“Tell him that I know his plans, and that they are foolish. If he keeps meddling in my affairs, he will regret it. That is all. Go.”
“But..how can I?”
Swenson’s mouth curled into a grin. “You are skilled in your healing arts. I know how much time you have spent practicing them. Heal yourself, physician. If you must, there is medpac right over there. Goodbye, Garask.”
At that, Swenson’s body turned about, and began to walk along the path to the gate of Hotel Melbourne.