2.1 - Dagger

Oh man, how much of that gas did I inhale?, Dagger questions no one in particular as he tries to walk further on into the nothingness.

What sort of vision is this? Dagger wonders aloud to himself. He calls out into this strange cave, Hello?! Heyop? Cassilig? Urik? Anyone?

He suddenly feels the need to have his blaster again, and draws it from its holster.

Dagger tries to mentally push back on the encroaching darkness.

Dagger feels the fear encroaching in. Pressing down on him. Despite the presence over his shoulder he turns to take the much more treacherous looking path. Enough time in the big city has taught him, if it looks too good to be true, it probably is. That exit is too easy of a path. Too inviting. He presses on down the difficult path.

Dagger keeps pushing on as best as he can. Hoping not to accidentally grab a snake instead of a vine.

Hearing the sound, the breathing. Dagger continues down the right path, trying his best to block out the feeling this place is pushing down on him.

Dagger, driven part by rage and part by the methodical instinct that led him to finish the downed Malfax, draws his vibroknife and walks up behind the figure. He puts a hand on his shoulder and spins him around, ready to plunge the knife into him.

Dagger splays out his hands trying to find purchase before he flies too far.

Should I run so quickly from danger, I may abandon those who matter most, Dagger says into the air. Recalling all of those lost, those who he swore to free.

He continues on down the path, looking less for a fight now, and more for a way out.

I rushed forward to save lives. That man, that thing. He has caused so much death, and will continue to kill. If I did not finish him when I had the chance, all of their blood would be on my hands. Malefax as well. He was a monster. Urik himself would tell you so. That monster would surely have pushed the boy until he broke. Physically, or mentally. That would have been on my hands if I let him live.

The Jedi are supposed to be protectors. How can you protect if you are not willing to destroy evil?, Dagger still holds the knife in his hand, searching the cavern for the dark robed one.

Dagger looks down at the vibroknife. Suddenly feeling woefully inadequate. A small part of him burns with anger for being chastised by this being.

I suppose it means to let go of my grudge, he says as he sheathes the small blade. He stands sheepish for a few moments, seeming to wrestle with something mentally. All of those people. Wiped out in an few moments. I arrived to liberate them and I was too late, he tries to explain, dropping to his knees, I held the youngest of them. He was but five years old. He died because I didn't act fast enough, his face is shrouded by his hood, but small wet spots begin to dot the robes below.

It's so hard to let it go. But... But I must. How? How do I become stronger? How do I know peace?, he questions the figure.

Dagger wipes away a stray tear. Feeling both like a comforted child, and yet strangely optimistic about his future. For once his thoughts aren't clouded by his desire for revenge. It still lurks somewhere in his mind, but he has finally quieted it.

My friends?, Dagger asks, almost forgetting where he previously was, Where are my friends? I must get back to them. Heyop, Urik. Csillag. I would like to know they are safe.

Dagger takes the small crystal and looks it over. How will I know this is the right one? I have so many questions, Dagger stammers. Trying to think of everything he wanted to say or ask but being at a loss for any of it.

Dagger finds he is talking to himself when he looks up but soon moves to this device and begins work. He has no clue what he is doing but seems to be doing it with some sort of uncontrolled purpose. Soon, parts clicking into place, he has lost sense of time and his creation is becoming the only thing he sees.

He isn't even sure how he is manipulating the parts as they float towards him, finding their place and purpose under a strangely skilled hand. He is surprised to know the hand is his own.

After what may have been minutes, or eternities, he holds two parts of a small hilt, not much bigger than the hilt of his vibroknife. The gem floats in the air of the device and he clicks the two parts of the hilt together around it. His focus snaps back suddenly and he stands holding the hilt of a newly crafted shoto lightsaber. He instinctively switches it on, already somehow deeply familiar with its function. The blue beam extends out with an audible whir. The blade extends out only about a foot and a half. Larger than his vibroknife, but still smaller than a traditional jedi lightsaber.

He finds a calm about the saber as he holds it and focuses on the force moving throughout it. He opens his eyes and finds he has more to create. After another short time he has crafted a second shoto hilt. This one has no crystal in it. It creates no beam and seems completely useless. But something inside him caused him to create it. So he tucks it away. Hoping he will know the purpose when it arises.

Dagger observes Urik for some time, interested to know what it must have appeared like for him to work on the forge. He turns to the staircase, leaving Urik to his focus, remembering how he had been lost in the forge as well. Dagger heads down the staircase to the grassy vale. Snow and heat have been what he has seen recently. He hopes to enjoy the view before he finds this experience over. Vision, or transportation, or whatever it might be.