Chapter 1: Cover
Chapter Text
Trip was just jazzed about this idea as I was and whipped up this piece for me last year! I'm so stoked to finally share with all of you!
You can find their work here on their page!
The true first chapter will be February 22, in honor of its publishing back in the 1910's, and be a monthly update every 22nd.
See y'all Thursday 😁
Chapter 2: A long way from home
Notes:
The time has finally come where I merge a movie I like to my current fandom! And the winner is John Carter (2012) 🤣
This is purely self-indulgent, as most of these types of fics are, but I shook it up appropriately and changed a bit more to fit the wild story I want to tell on my favorite planet.
So Warning this is written to be mildly historically accurate. I will be using language indicative of the era and events of the era too when Obi-Wan is in Arizona and (one or two) outdated race descriptors will be used again as Obi-Wan explains Earth or the people on Mandalore. He does not use the slurs, but it is used around him and he does try to manage against it.
I don’t do this lightly, it makes me queasy to do so, but it is history to an extent and as a POC woman it would feel unfair and undeserving to not factually address it. If this will make anyone uncomfortable please stop at ‘eastward for more plentiful resources’ and start again at ‘Obi-Wan should stay’ and in the end notes will be a description of what happened.
Now without further ado, a Codywan Barsoom fic 😁
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It started, as most days did, putting pencil to paper.
Obi-Wan squints at the page, the paleness reflecting the brilliant sunlight back at him. Hunching over the shrub, with its willow-like leaves, his upper half and his wide brim hat provide enough shade to write. He grins and finishes his work, adding a small sketch of the fauna to the bottom of the journal before making a thin section press so he could observe them later.
It was the penultimate day of his fieldwork in the Arizona wilderness and of his American Southwest expedition to further the knowledge of this vast and immeasurable country. With its recent wars there hadn’t been much scientific study that wasn’t militarized. Though many countries around the world were constantly doing the same thing, marring the beautiful bounty the world had to offer.
Carefully stowing away the specimen in his overladen satchel, Obi-Wan pushes to his feet, dusts himself off, and hauls his pack on with his satchel onto his right shoulder. It takes a few seconds for them to settle before he feels stable enough to take off on his trek to the canyon opening. A simple, but decent thirty minute walk to —
“Dad!”
Pausing, looking away from the bundles of paper, animal skins, and papyrus, Qui-Gon finds one disgruntled son and a more exasperated one.
Both sit cross-legged on a twin-size bed with emerald diamond sheets and two pillows. The other bed, a meter to the left of it, was bright blue with hand stitched steamboats sailing crisscrossed about it. The trend of green and blue wraps around the nursery with the pastel striped wallpaper and some of their playthings, though those that didn’t were still marked by their objective. The stacks of encyclopedias on the bookshelf and old equipment from his lab at a desk were for his oldest, while about a low table was a small toolkit surround by parts of toy engines, innards of cameras, and radios bolts.
All of these were just snapshots of his sons, but also some of the brightest points of them too.
“Yes, Anakin?” He asked gently, trying to hide his smile as his youngest flings himself back on his brother’s bed.
“Do you have to read this?” He whines, then rolls out of the way of a pillow that Feemor wields at him, “Stop that Fee! Dad, I don't care about all this. I want to get to the part where Obi fights the rancor.” He beams brightly with five-year-old endless fervor.
“Defends against,” Feemor corrects his younger brother with the confidence only a seven-year-old could know and harness, “Obi doesn’t like to start fights.”
“But he’ll finish them!” Anakin hops back up, standing upon the bed, “I wanna be just like him, saving the world and fighting evil.” Swinging the discard pillow like a pudgy club.
“Not every way you fight evil is one-on-one, or even an army,” Qui-Gon says softly, “Sometimes it’s unassuming people that do that in quiet ways.”
“But that’s boring!” His youngest flops back in the bed.
“But necessary,” Qui-Gon tries to soothe his most rambunctious. He doesn’t remember being quite as hasty to action, but the memories of coughing laughter from Plo and Cin say otherwise, “Going slow to learn is as important as listening to your heart. If you run the race too quickly you will lose sight of the importance of whatever you do.”
Anakin continues to look skeptical before huffing, “Fine, but only because Feemor likes this.” He rolls his eyes.
“I’m tickled pink you cared so much.” Feemor deadpans, a perfect replica of his music teacher, Mr. Windu’s, stern visage.
Then, with an aggressive hug, Anakin mutters into Feemor’s pajamas clad chest, “You better.”
Rearranging themselves – Anakin on his stomach, holding his captured pillow under his chest, and Feemor leaning against his backboard, the pillow across his lap – they look to him eagerly to continue their favorite bedtime story. Himself, settles back into his deep evergreen wingback, and finds where he left off.
“You know, if you had just let Father read, instead of arguing with him, he would have been at the part where Obi is being transported to Mandalore.” Feemor adds softly, his slight smile too devious for his young face.
As understanding dawns on Anakin, dumbfounded and flabbergasted, he sits there mouth wide as a gulper eel. But before he can complain about it Qui-Gon takes the opening to begin again.
Turning the bend, Obi-Wan unlatches his canteen and pours out the bare minimum to wet his lips and coat his throat. He had an extra, and this one was half full, but he knew it was best to conserve it like the flora and fauna presently around him did. As he was hooking it back to his belt he hears a metal click that was not a canteen loop-latch closing.
Please. Please just be civilized for once.
Obi-Wan raises his head to see that the rifle that was trained on him swing back to another. That other being Naiche and the rest of his scouting party that had so graciously been his guide through their homeland.
“Is there a problem here men?” Looking directly at the trigger-happy Yankees that had their sights on the Apache, and likewise, the Apaches had on the Yanks.
It was eight to nine with half on horseback. The standoff was out in a low hills plain, filled with shrubs and small junipers that hid dips and shallow drops. Surrounding them on either side were classic rounded canyon walls with a smattering of caves, caves that were shaped by human hand or were completely carved out by the ancestors of the Hopi, as Naiche had told him, before they had moved eastward for more plentiful resources.
“Nothing to fear Brit,” The one officer who had pointed his rifle at him glances quickly his way, “We have this handle. These Reds aren’t going anywhere.” An unbecoming smirk spreading across his face.
Ignoring the misinformed take of his nationality, Obi-Wan looks back to Naiche, addressing him directly,
“I don’t think I made myself clear. I was referring to Naiche and his scouts. Are you fine? What’s happened?”
“ ‘Trespassing’ on our own land,” The elder man scoffs, refusing to move from his position, his own rifle trained on one of the riders, “For waiting for you, Mr. Kenobi. Waiting seems to be a crime.” He mutters dryly, his accent making the words clipped and poignant.
“Unfortunate. It would benefit a great many people if they could only wait and talk.”
“Hey Limey!” The first soldier shouts, turning to him red-faced, “Don’t be buttin’ in to —”
“Stephens!”
Looking to the one that had delivered the sharp reprimand, his tone providing all the discipline, Obi-Wan is quite sure he’s the leader, obvious for all his patches of gold embroidery on the shoulder. He turns slightly in his saddle, most of his expression shaded by his wide brim hat.
“We have no quarrel with you. We only need them to leave.”
“And if I have more work to do?”
“Then I’ll politely ask again.” A fixed smile plastering itself to his face.
As if this Yankee greeting was. Obi-Wan thinks staunchly, just holding back a sneer.
“Sir —”
“Colonel.” He cuts in sharply, the faux smile strengthening.
“These men were simply showing me around their home, Colonel.” Obi-Wan tacks on the rank in a clipped manner.
With a tsk that set the Scot’s ire on edge, the colonel shakes his head at him, Obi-Wan remembering his primary teacher doing much the same before he would lay into the students.
“Mr. Kenobi,” Tone disgustingly patronizing, “We civilized men don’t need to be associating with —”
BANG!
The gunshot rattles through his chest like Scottish winter winds would, the colonel shouting at Stephens to hold his fire, yet the chiller dread of having lost a friend overcomes him as he looks for who had gone down. But he is roughly shoved to the side as the phrase ‘run for cover’ is shouted at him by Naiche in his native language.
Obi-Wan should stay, but he has no way of defending himself or the Apache.
Running back down the way he came, he makes a split second decision to turn right instead of left, unaware it would be the first choice in a series of many that would define his life in the most glorious way.
The less traveled by path hosts much that would make it inhospitable to the average hiker, much more so with a pack. But Obi-Wan had picked up a considerable bit of muscle over the seventeen months he was out here, along with, at times, an unflattering tan.
The usual smooth canyon walls were cracked and craggily, the exfoliating joints and brakes drove out into the path, as if in hopes of skewering passersby like a passive Loggerhead shrike. Obi-Wan barely notices when they skim his skin, just out of reach of breaking skin, his focus attuned to the echoing gunfire that filtered through the narrow channel, like the sinister laughter of a wraith hunting him down.
He finally breaks from the grasping touch of the channel into an open space, that at first glance was not that dissimilar to the dales of his home. But the more Obi-Wan observes, his harsh breathing the only sound falling back on him, he would say it was closer to an old sinkhole with it’s sides sagged and depressed with recent erosion.
The jojoba and brittlebush seem to grow with some abundance in the reddish brown dirt, likely the presence of water – if his theory is correct – along with the shade. He begins to make rounds about it until he happens upon a peculiar cave. The opening was about three meters in height and two meters in width, the rock around it forming a frame of sorts that seemed manmade, which in this part of the construction was not an impossibility. Above its rocky doorpost was a signet carved perfectly center, and stepping closer Obi-Wan would say it looked like he was looking down at a warthog, perhaps, but the proportions were wrong.
Maybe I should climb for a better look. He thinks as he begins to shrug off his bags and walk to the right side of the cave where it slopes, only for his foot to slip, and with it, himself.
The tumble is cushioned by the fine sand, but the ground is still the ground, leaving a dull ache overall.
“Mr. Kenobi! Mr. Kenobi, are you here?”
Dusting himself off, Obi-Wan smiles to himself as he walks around his equally fallen packs.
“Naiche!” He calls out with giddiness at the man’s survival, “You and your lads are astounding at your work. I don’t think I would have been able to deduce…… Is everything all right?” Noticing how the other man had stopped two meters away, a growing fear on the usually fearless Apache’s face.
“Naiche?” He asks again, slowly, looking around the ground for any snakes or arachnids, finding none.
Drawing his gaze up then, the older man is motioning him away from where he stood, eyes on something above him. Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder to the cave and finds that the elder had his eyes fixed on the signet, a realization dawning on him.
“I’m sorry!” Obi-Wan apologizes in a low rush, “I didn’t know this was a sacred space.” Embarrassment rushing through him at his eagerness from before. But Naiche shakes his head frantically before uttering that it was ‘cursed’ and a ‘bad omen’ in his language.
The fear of trespassing flies from Obi-Wan then, shoulders dropping in relief.
“Okay. I understand. Just let me get my belongings.” Turning away as Naiche continues to shake his head and tells him to leave it with urgency.
His pack was at the foot of the cave, his hat in the doorway, but his satchel was inside, some of the jars and thin sections having been tossed out and layed half nestled in the sand.
With a choice curse Obi-Wan shoulders on his pack, pins his hat to the pack’s side, then stoops low for his satchel, looping it over his right shoulder as before. As he begins to pick up his fallen specimens Naiche calls to him more hurriedly for his return.
In grabbing the last one, the willow-like shrub thin section, Obi-Wan stands and looks around the cave, wondering what could’ve caused such a commotion about it.
It wasn’t large or vast, only comfortably cool as it was a shaded area. If he had to guess it was approximately seven meters in diameter and nine meters tall. A small opening to the left of the ceiling provides some light, and with it, sight to the rest of the cave, which he will admit that the star burst fractures in the ceiling – a case of brittle deformation in response to stress – were quite stunning. They would be more so if not for how strange they all looked, as if they had been modeled on instead of propagating naturally.
Following the sunbeam that found refuge here, Obi-Wan finds a raised sloped stone approximately two meters across with the same horned creature at the head of it. Taking a closer look reveals that just below it was a circle, the width of his open hand, and nine lines stretched out from it. In the center of the circle was an impression of something consisting of curls and swirling designs like a wrought iron gate in the gated gardens of her Majesty, the rounded placeholder was about the size of a closed fist.
Intrigued, Obi-Wan calls out to Naiche to wait and tells him that he had found something, unable to help a light grin from finding it home upon his lips as the elder mutters something harshly in his own languages that Obi-Wan is sure are curses upon his line.
Striking a match, Obi-Wan had planned to take a closer look at the impression, but the moment he has a flame the cave is all a glitter. Shimmering veins coat the walls drawing him in, curiosity strong, and curiosity partially satiated as he sees it’s gold or pyrite. He is overjoyed, hoping it is the former, as this was an opportunity to reward the Apache more for their help, and for the hardships they may face in the future. Dousing the flame, he digs into a satchel for his switchblade to test the hardness.
Just as his hand closes around the hilt of it Obi-Wan looks up. The purpose was to find a good vein to test, but he catches a fine jagged white light superimposed along the wall.
Suddenly the instincts of back-alley fights and watched boxing matches clenches at his muscles and Obi-Wan ducks further, as if he was looking deeper into his satchel, as he plants his feet in the sand.
Pivoting harshly, he tackles whoever is behind him, hitting solid flesh. They go down, it rattling his teeth, but even then Obi-Wan is alert, scrambling back and getting his feet under him, his blade held protectively in front of him as he looks at what he was sure was a dagger emitting light like an oil lamp!
He finds it was quite correct by the way the person swings it at him, the brightness blinding him for a moment. But Obi-Wan is quick on the draw, slicing forward with his own blade out.
It makes contact, but not with the chilling chink of metal on metal, but of the bubbling hiss of magma against rock!
Before his very eyes, stranger than fiction, he watches as his blade is summarily cut through. Dodging to the left, Obi-Wan makes a grab for his assailant’s wrist in between the split seconds, both being surprised by his accuracy – and for himself of watching such madness happening before him – but he does not yield his iron grip on the wrist, turning the blade towards them.
The golden eyes widen in shock, their struggle renews, and Obi-Wan pulls them forward, the change in weight giving him enough time to swipe their feet out from under them. He is on the other in a instant, punching them to the left of their jaw before going for the strange dagger. Which he has to dodge as they strike out wildly, almost nicking his cheek. Grasping for the other’s wrist again, Obi-Wan recognizes his mistake in how the svelte man below him had let him turn his blade as the world tilted and Obi-Wan is turned on his back.
Or would’ve been, if not for his pack propping him up slightly.
It was something neither were expecting as a wet gasp sounds above him, a high-pitched one at that.
The weight grows and Obi-Wan is immediately aware that turning the blade, and with his assailant trying to spin and pin him, has resulted in the attacker being stabbed.
Quickly rolling them again, Obi-Wan lays him down and undoes the headwrap so he – No! She!? – could breathe as he lays her out flatly across the sand. He quickly assesses her, confused by her exotic blood red and shale gray overlapping robes that did not hide the bald woman’s deathly white skin or her limbs.
It was purely scandalous, but Obi-Wan didn’t care. He was more focused on the obsidian-like blade that stuck out diagonally from her chest, it moving in time with her gulping breaths.
“It’ll be fine. We’re going to help you,” He tells her gently, trying to keep his calm as he uses the longer strands of fabric to try and stem the wound, “Naiche! I found someone. Please get help!” Shouting to the cave’s entrance.
Turning back to the pale woman, Obi-Wan sees she has moved, resting a half curled hand upon her left breast, speaking softly as her eyes lose focus.
“No. Stay with me,” He whispers, taking hold of her hand and finding something in it, “Do you hear me? Breathe slowly.” Obi-Wan tells her desperately.
But despite his pleas, the woman continues to attempt other words between her final breaths. Her arm falls limp, her hand sliding away leaving the item she was holding in Obi-Wan’s care. Looking down at it he is shocked that it was the same shape of the impression in the rock, the medallion shining an unearthly glow, as if filled with bioluminescent organisms. But his gaze immediately fixes on her’s, question poised, yet it falls sharply to her lips as she mouths a phrase, her voice seeming to have left her.
Leaning in closer, Obi-Wan tries to hear her final words, focusing on how her lips shaped the words and whispers the sounds aloud, trying to understand their meaning.
“Man… Manda… Mandalore?” He guesses.
In an instant Obi-Wan is breathless.
The air in his lungs are pulled from his very chest, starved of it all. The coolness of the cave is frigid as it is sweltering, points of light blinding him as he can scarcely tell gravity has a hold on him as he falls back. His last thought was of how he did not expect this to be his end.
Then it was silent.
Notes:
Like in the movie there is a standoff when the U.S. cavalry comes to find a group of Apaches, but it’s because they’re waiting for Obi-Wan to return. A soldier exclaims that they are gonna save Obi-Wan from these Apache and Obi-Wan tries to help his main guide, Naiche, with de-escalating the whole thing by talking to the colonel. But still someone from the army side shoots first and Naiche pushes Obi-Wan to leave because he doesn’t have a means to protect himself.
Chapter 3: Discoveries and Wonder
Notes:
Warning: Its small, but its for an injury to an animal, though accidental, a bone is broken. It’s in the paragraph that starts with ‘Unwilling to sit idle and captured’ and you can skip that if you please.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Then it was bright.
Bright like Arizona always was with the faint whistle of wind moving over sand, the dry heat settling gently on his skin.
For a moment Obi-Wan wonders if he had fainted, the actions of the day would be appropriate for his reaction.
…Possibly.
It had been over a year since he had been in any fisticuffs, or had the displeasure of seeming like he was an easy target for loathsome thieves. Perhaps he was just out of practice and the shocks of the past hour caught up to him.
Or so he thought until he noticed he didn’t hear anything or anyone.
Checking himself and finding no issues with locomotion, he raises his right hand to shield his eyes before opening them.
… The sky is decidedly pink. He notes before sitting up.
It was devoid of most color, but there was a haziness of pink to it, a fainter line of pale blue resting at the horizon in the reverse of an Arizonan sunset. Though while the sky is subdued, the ground is far from it.
For some reason Obi-Wan lay in a small glade of bright vegetation that looks to be moss, yet was the cheery color of buttercups or daffodils in an early spring bloom. Pressing his hand down into a section of it, expecting to feel smooth rock under it due to the rounded nature of its shape, Obi-Wan is surprised to find his hand going through the brittle mass. Somehow this plant grew in these pillowy masses, but his attention is taken by a much larger plant, a barren bedraggled willow about his height that had been blown to one side, it’s bark a peeling white and grey that stunned the eyes, but was haunting in the stillness.
Remarkable. He thinks as he glances away, but takes peeks in awe at it, fingers itching to go to his journal.
Though in doing so he grips an item in his hand. The medallion.
So it did happen. Obi-Wan frowns to himself, unhappy about his attacker’s end. Vicious they may have been didn't mean he wished for her death.
He stows away the medallion in his satchel and notes a second thing, less or more remarkable depending on the point of view, is that he was completely alone in an ancient lake.
Desolately alone.
He had only his pack and nothing more.
Obi-Wan can admit he was nothing short of baffled by this development; how did he get out here and why was he here? Better yet, where was here?
He saw no footprints or hoofprints, which left him more perplexed, but set his mind at ease that it was not Naiche’s or his men’s doing. He wouldn’t and couldn’t believe the tales of frontier forts about the natives being savages, and Obi-Wan had seen firsthand how kind and respectful the Apache were. More so than he could say about some of the faculty at his alma mater, but he could sadly not discount them now as he was the last one to see Obi-Wan at the cave.
Trying to not dwell on it, he focuses on the present. Here and now he could move, he had some provisions, and he still had daylight. So Obi-Wan pulls off his hat from his pack with determination, loosens the drawstrings, and sets it firmly on his head.
I guess my next journey is happening sooner than I thought. And goes to stand.
Or that was the plan.
For no conceivable reason when he stood Obi-Wan was pushed forward as if a gust of wind was under him, and for a brief moment, the air was like water, leaving him buoyant as he moves through it. Then he was hitting the dry lakebed, it cracking under him.
He tries again with similar results. Even pushing himself up was a struggle as he would skitter across the dry lakebed when he did so.
At one moment he just lays on the ground for ten minutes, ire his only companion at that point, hat perched precariously over his face. After the twelfth trial, he lays down on his stomach and wonders how this area was playing strange antics upon his physique as he had flicked a rock and it had flown away from him like a bullet.
Perhaps being lighter would help with him being heavier, considering the opposite seems to be true currently. But taking off his pack is a mistake, the worst possible, as he had gained new height and distance, meaning they were needed, he thinks sourly as he crawls back to his two bags.
After the eighteenth attempt, Obi-Wan has a mental list of do’s and don'ts. He gets his feet under him, exerting the strength of his pinky so that he can crouch. Then gently, ever so gently, he stands straight, his gaze picking up a desolate island in the distance, the sun shining through the parted rock formation like a beacon.
Hopefully a beacon with shade.
Lifting his right leg in exaggerated fashion, as if he was wading through water, Obi-Wan moves like he was creeping through the old halls of the orphanage on his tiptoes. It must make him look like a jester, but he is making progress.
Negligible progress though.
It would be nightfall by the time Obi-Wan made it there, and he needed to be able to make camp before then.
Ever the scientist, he decides to add a bit more pressure, press down just a touch harder, move half a pace faster.
Then he’s leaping!
In light bounds, like a frog, Obi-Wan finds himself covering distance with ease and landing from his bounces with miraculously no issues. The short bursts of weightlessness, wind soft against his face, and the wonder of it all possesses him like a small child’s near endless joy.
Heart thundering away in his chest, the decision already made, Obi-Wan crouches as he lands and pushes off soaring. He was soaring!
It was all Obi-Wan could think with a gasping laugh even as he took in the reddish tint of the terrain and the endless pastel coral sky. His mind truly on how lovely it must be possessed flight.
Though as the ground rushes back towards him, he does begin to rethink the decision to go further. But the pain he had expected, had braced for, as he landed never appeared. It was as if he had simply landed from a half meter jump, not the dozen meter one he had just performed!
And yet he can give that no more thought, as he is springing back up and forward once more to his destination.
Oh dear, I never did learn how to stop. A self-deprecating huff escapes him as he continues to hurdle towards the ground once more, the island getting closer with his next impromptu leap. If he didn’t stop soon he’d over shoot it and would lose his chance.
He hoped it was an easy fix, and so Obi-Wan tried the most obvious option; Jumping less.
With less power and a near lackadaisical way of leaping forward, his jumps do indeed slow and his height decreases. And at the perfect time as well as he comes to the base of the ancient island, moving gingerly once more, though not as awkwardly as he climbs up the sandy shore deposits.
Setting his pack down he treks around the island, equally desolate to match it’s surroundings much too well. Obi-Wan may have been spoiled with the more vegetated and living parts of the Sonoran Desert. This area was as barren as the text that describes the Sahara.
Besides the thin line of golden yellow on the horizon where he had come from the rest of the visible area was kilometers of beige, faint red and dusty brown red. It was stunning, in some light he was sure, but currently it was quite demoralizing.
With a few aided skips and jumps, Obi-Wan circumvents the oblong landmass finding no veritable shade, but had seen another island in the distance that could be worth investigating.
I’d give anything for a map right now. He thinks grimly as his shoulders back on his bags, dreading the thought of having to travel wildly from island to island.
That was something only for ‘adventurous’ sailors, not simple landlubber like himself. Even if he was a good deckhand.
Crack!
Swiftly, looking around for the sound that happens again. And once more. A sharp crack like the one an egg would make against china, but amplify.
As a third sounds, Obi-Wan pinpoints that it was coming from below him, soon noticing the ledge he had left his pack on was actually a prismatic glass skylight.
No. It’s muscovite to be exact.
Noting excitedly that the layered sheets were similar to the books of mica he had seen in collection. But when he scrubbed at the surface, he was actually able to have a view through it, unlike layered sheets back in the laboratory.
Yet the excitement of that is swiftly smothered with dread and morbid intrigue.
Below him were no animals known to science. Hatching from basket sized oblong green eggs, flapping their finger-wings and falling over each other in the stone nest. They looked bat-like, yet sported scales and bright ombre shades of orange. Their snouts and heads were endemic of the order of Chiroptera with their triangular and fully white heads, the barest hints of brown ridges in the center of their head. They had tiny flickering ears that moved as rapidly as their four blue-green eyes that looked everywhere and anywhere as they made weak squeaking wails.
It was truly a sight to behold. Something that would make others stand back and turn away, but Obi-Wan could not take his eyes off the strange creatures as his mind spun with thoughts about the theoretical size of the adults if the hatchlings were the size of a human baby.
A rasping cry on the horizon breaks his concentration for the below, to set his sights above him in the sky. Close in fast were birds larger than he had ever seen that they were still too far a field to place the wingspan. But the near they got everyone saw that there were people riding on the backs of those creatures!
Better judgment and scientific interest war between each other, but the closer the creatures get self-preservation wins in a landslide.
Qui-Gon would be so proud. Obi-Wan huffs to himself as he turns, scrambling up to the more compact land on top of the ancient island and jumps.
He jumps twice more before he looks over his shoulder, only for talons to be in his view, snatching him out of the air with ease!
Unwilling to sit idle and captured, Obi-Wan swings out, hitting the bird reptile creature in its leg. Yet the impact he expected barely phases him, the give he experiences under his knuckles is more concerning. He knew what it felt like when his fists met an opponent’s flesh in the ring or in an alleyway, but this was decidedly and fully not that. The resulting snap and pained screech informs Obi-Wan that he had a form of enhanced strength before he was dropped with a shout.
As he fell, and not having instigated the jump, he fears his end and hopes to the higher powers that this was all but a very lucid dream.
But it was all for not as he hits the ground, and though its smarts rightly, Obi-Wan, could breathe easily and move just as well.
Wasting no time, he goes to scramble up, but he’s too late as a throwing knife soars pass his head, embedding itself in the cracks of the dry lakebed by his hands.
Slowly turning around, Obi-Wan raises his hands in surrender, only to drop them at what he witnesses before him.
Even with the barrel of the rifle trained on him does not force Obi-Wan back into his passive posture as his entire focus is on the two meter tall being in front of him.
They were bipedal, having a healthy greenish blue tint to their rough, yet smooth looking skin, as if it was a single snake scale. Their eyes seem to have no iris or pupil, or perhaps the iris is just so large that it took up the entire visible area of the eye socket. Either way, it was a vibrant blue much like the sky. Their face was a sharp visage with what looked to be some sort of frills along its narrow and sharp chin with a distinct crest over top and then down the back of their head, extending pieces of flesh that seem to fall down in a mimicry of hair, as they had absolutely no hair to speak of.
Clothed in various wrapped cloth, all in shades of chestnut, beige, and russet red, Obi-Wan notices styles he had seen in encyclopedias and his own expeditions.
The top they had in a beige was similar to a wide scarf that had been tied behind their neck. From the pull of it, it seemed to make it a backless half-shirt, which was half covered by bandoliers with rectangular cartridges instead of cylindrical ones. It was also at his point Obi-Wan notice the similar mounts akin to breasts that were bisected by the crossed belts. She continued to be outfitted with weaponry as her lower half was covered by chestnut-colored wide pants of some volume that he had seen in the Ottoman State. Two leather hunting knife sheaths sit at her hips held by crisscrossing straps while the pants stop at what Obi-Wan will hazard as the knee as the foot coverings were synonymous with that of Roman soldiers. The shins and her bracers were covered in some lustrous silver that gleamed dull, while the sandals seemed more padded for wilderness traversing. Clearly, she was ready to handle the pressures of hunting and warfare, as her rifle trained on his person suggested.
“Ay! Cuy! (“Ay! Hey!”) ”
Obi-Wan focuses back on his capturer with some embarrassment, more so with how he can denote the angry flush and the fearsome sneer that she was sporting, the female’s sharp blue eyes burning into his.
“Tion kaysh! Bal tion'bor kaysh abii sa bac? Tion vaabi kaysh vaabir Zora? (“Who are you! And how did jump like that? And what did you do to Zora?”)”
“Hi?” Obi-Wan starts weakly, gaze still on the barrel, “I – I don’t speak … Ah? I don’t speak whatever you speak. I am lost and I only wish to get home.” And to his relief there was intelligence there as she looks strangely down on him. Hopefully he could relay some information through universal emotions. The sneer falling completely for an expression of true puzzlement, the female being lowers the rifle as she takes the time to examine him.
“Nayc di’sur’aliik (“No tattoos.”) ,” She says questioningly before holding the rifle to them, “Tion aliit vaabi kaysh jorhaa? Tion ruug'la, evaar, ra haat? (“What clan do you speak for? New, old, or true?”) ”
“I…” Unsure, Obi-Wan shrugs.
The stare-off continues for a few more moments before the female places, her rifle on her back porch into the ground.
“Cuyoli. Ne’ente abii (“Stay. Don’t jump.”) .” She says harshly, performing the stay put gesture again as she walks backwards to the hunched over creature, clearly the full-grown version of the hatchlings he had seen before.
Oh my word. The full-size one, now that he was paying attention, was much more fearsome as it grew into its full shape. I really must find out the name of this creature.
Obi-Wan could see similarities to that of the extinct creatures, the pterosaurs, and wonders if that is what they must have looked like in their glory. Though this was a much grander animal then the specimens that had been found, laying out protracted seem to be just over five meters! And at the end of each spread-out wing seem to be dexterous finger-like wingtips along with a noticeable, but small, thumb claw. The membrane that attached itself to just below the shoulder did not attach to the ankle like it did with bats and pterosaurs, but that gave this one a wider range of movement, which must be useful and possible with a wingspan that must been close to fifteen meters!
Looking to the female, he sees her coaxing the creature to move their legs, trying to hold onto the right as she gently prodded it. The one that Obi-Wan notes he had punched, wincing when he hears the sharp call pain from prehistoric creature as it withers and stretches out its great wings.
And seeing the distress on the female’s face for the larger creature, Obi-Wan can’t ignore this. Standing slowly, lifting his hands in surrender as she turns a fierce glare his way and keeps directing his way as he lowers himself to sit cross-legged, and for good measure, sits on his hands to look at as unobtrusive as possible.
The female’s eyes widen and shine before her frown returns as she nods in his direction with a huff, getting back to work in calming the fingered-wing reptile.
He watches as they stand and collect something from their saddle, a tarp and collapsable metal planks, which he can tell are parts of a split only larger. She also takes out a roll of gauze and a wide bulging leaf, not dissimilar to aloe vera, yet for the chartreuse coloring. But as she tries to hold her creature’s leg and wrap it, it was clear both could not be achieved in tandem.
Clearing his throat, Obi-Wan finds himself jolting back at the vitriolic sneer directed his way. But still he lifts his hands, one at a time, and telegraphs his movements. As predicted the female turns the other jagged hunting knife his way, but he keeps distance, going for the injured leg that was now bruising a deep red with the slightest of bumps detailing the breaking of bone.
Taking a deep breath, hoping that this will prevail, and goes to grasp the ankle – with no problem he might add – leaning his hip into the curve of the foot and keeping the talons away as he straightens and pushes the creature’s his bone back in place with his bare hands.
The wail was ear shattering, but Obi-Wan keeps his post as the creature tries to unsuccessfully move away, his grip astoundingly too strong to fight against. The female stares at him in semblance of disbelief before quickly setting to work with cutting into the chartreuse plant and slathering the clear substance seeping from it on the gauze, going about efficiently wrapping the leg with the snapped-out metal planks as a doctor would. Completed, Obi-Wan lowers the leg down and retreats a few meters as the female checks their work.
Satisfied, she comforts her creature once more before stiffly turning to him,
“Ni ne’ente copaanir vor entye. (“I don’t expect a debt.”) ” Whatever was said was terse, the language a rolling case of hard consonants but he had no understanding and could only stare on. She then squints down at him, saying, “Tion gar ne’ente kar'taylir ra miitir Mando'a? Tion’ente gar? (“You really don’t know or speak Mando’a, do you?”) ” To which, once again, Obi-Wan can only shrug, decorum abandon for now as he doubts any manner of polite speech will suit him.
The female holds her scrutinizing gaze upon him as she folds her arms, then, while keeping her arms folded still, lifts her right hand to her chest, saying, “Siri Tachi.”
She repeats the phrase firmly, and against better judgment, he points at her and repeats back,
“Siritaotchi.”
She shakes her head and repeats it, pausing on the second syllable, and Ob-Wan understands.
“Ah. Your name is Siri Tachi,” He’s given a bland, yet impressed, look as she purses her lips together. Nodding, he places a hand over his own chest, “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, a professor at Glasgow University,” Then frowning to himself, “I am not sure why I went into so much depth.” He mutters.
“Gas Gow?” And Obi-Wan presses his lips together to not sigh out loud at his blunder.
“No, no Glasgow.”
“Glaz Go.”
“Glasgow.”
“…Gl… Glasgow.”
“Yes.”
Siri gives him a strange look before she turns her gaze back and upward as the guttural rasping call the creature made sounded in a crescendo above them.
There, in the distance, the five others from before begin to descend, landing in a semi-circle around him, the female, and the downed creature.
The first to dismount is from the center creature, their harness more decorated than the others and its rider just as so. She had similar clothing to Siri, yet her torso was not shown and she had what he could only described as layer of lengthening swooping fabric, a bustle at best guess. It stopped just below her knees, bright red in color and barring embroidery along the edge in leaflet designs. She was noticeably the only one with a headdress. It resembled a tiara in shape and was made of leather, accompanied by braided strings and leather straps with an array of blue, green, and yellow beads.
Siri approaches the regalia wearing female and speaks to her, whatever is being said is punctuated with saying ‘Glasgow’ and pointing to him.
Fantastic, now they think that’s my name. But with little way of fixing the situation without some intervention, he was stuck as Glasgow.
The headdress wearing female steps forward, and Obi-Wan can make out what he believes to be some determination of age around her eyes, much like on humans as they aged.
“Alor Adi Gallia.” She says in a softer voice, though it still carried the hard notes of the language.
“Alor.” He tries, but she shakes head, looking to him pleasantly to try again, “Adi?”
As Adi nods, Siri throws her hand out to him with annoyance. Or what he hopes is annoyance, he would hate for it to be disgust, and says something harshly, her voice tilting towards strained as her eyes narrow. In response, Adi speaks softly, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder before walking pass her, though whatever is said doesn’t impress the younger one as she huffs a child-like sigh and turns back to her mount. As Siri gentles the creature, two others begin to attach ropes to a large tarp and proceed to shift and move the creature onto it, securing ropes to its harness in an effort to keep it from moving. Once everything has been checked, they perform a lifting procedure, an air-lift if you will, of the injured party.
They gain altitude slowly, but once they are at whatever height they prefer they return the way they came. Siri goes to climb upon a more orange in shade creature and those two take off as well.
Looking back to Adi, who must be the leader, she offers him a hand, a five-fingered clawed tipped one. And despite these non-human features, the similarities, the compassion, and intelligence was human and leaves Obi-Wan at peace with going with these beings. Though he can also admit he has nowhere else to go, but he is quite intrigued about their way of life as well.
Taking the offered hand, he allows himself to be led to the Adi’s mostly white and brown creature and helped up onto it. As the she takes the reins and they rise up into the sky, Obi-Wan has no idea how this happenstance of a meeting will affect him. He was now at the beginning of a journey that will have him finding his greatest friends as well as lead him to a love that will be legendary the world round.
Notes:
More action will be in store the next 22nd 😉
Also, Siri was saying this to Adi: “See, I told you, helpless! And he’s been abandoned. Not a tattoo on him.”
To which she calmly response with: “He will be the first of his time, but we will offer the same sympathies.”