Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to the Star Wars Franchise, but I wish I did.

A/N: This is a compilation of a story that's posted on . If you want to see the more regular updates, go there. Fair warning, they're a bit shorter than these.

Go here for more frequent updates: threads/spring-on-a-world-of-ashes-star-wars-oc.480538/

Act 1: Chapter 1

Definitely Not In Kansas Anymore.

[Day ?: ?, ?, 2129]

Growing up, I thought I would live and die under Earth's blue sky and yellow sun. Our space tech hadn't advanced too much since I was born and was unlikely to become commercially feasible in my lifetime. Too much bullshit keeping our attention away from what mattered. Every human alive on Earth today was the descendant of an explorer somewhere in their lineage. We, as a people, were explorers. Always curious. Always wandering.

But easily distracted by meaningless bullcrap and laziness.

There we all sat on our dust ball, looking up at the night sky with our telescopes and wondering what was out there without bothering to go out and look. Yeah, we got a man on the moon. A couple of them, in fact. But that was nearly fifty years ago and we never did it again after the 70s.

Fifty. Years. We went from just developing atmospheric flight to space in sixty years. We barely understood the combustion engine when we invented a semi-reliable form of flight. Yet, less than two decades later, we started in on rocketry when we were still using canvas-and-wood planes. That's a pretty big jump if you consider how long it took to go from the Bronze Age to the Iron Age.

So, yeah. I'm not too impressed with what my homeworld has accomplished in fifty years. Well, about a hundred and sixty years actually, now that I think about it. I guess Earth is stuck in 2016 in my memories.

My story is a strange one, and long. I'm an old man now, pushing a hundred. I've been out and about in the galaxy longer than I ever lived on Earth, or Terra as I keep telling people. I refuse to be called an "Earthling." "Terran" has a much better ring to it, right?

I've been involved in conflicts that made the World Wars back home look like school yard brawls, if only because of the scale. I played galactic-scale speed chess with a man that had twenty times the amount of pieces that I had, and survived. I even took on students, despite my dislike of teaching. They're all dead now. Two fell to battle. One fell to something worse. The rest, to disease and old age.

And yet, I have survived it all, though not in one piece. I was blessed with good genes, a much longer than average lifespan, and extremely strange luck.

You know how they say that you can see your life flashing before your eyes just as you're about to die? Well here at the end, as I'm looking down the blade of a red lightsaber, my sight flickers back to the moment it all started.

[Day 1: January 1, 2017.]

I had always wanted to explore the stars, to set foot on an alien world.

Now, I'm kind of wishing that the universe had given me a bit of a heads up first. Why? Even though I'd gotten what I wanted, somewhat, there were some…side-effects.

When whatever got me here dropped me, my head felt like a grenade a few seconds after pulling out the pin. Everything hurt all at once. Light was blinding. Every sound felt like my ears were bleeding. Every smell was overpowering. Every touch was excruciating. And then after a moment of sheer fucking pain, I blacked out just as suddenly.

I don't know how long I was out, but when I came to, I was sitting in the middle of a crater, roughly a foot deep and ten feet wide. The headache was still there, but reduced to a dull throb. It took a while for me to get enough energy to move, so all I had to stare at was the sun arcing over the sky. Which by the way, was very bright and in no way helped my head. Whatever happened, it…drained me, for lack of a better term.

After a few minutes, I finally got enough energy to sit up and get my first look at whatever I got dropped into…

I'd like to think that I'm a reasonably educated fellow that can identify trees when I see them, like pines, palm, deciduous, etc.

What I'm looking at right now, I'm not entirely sure can classify as trees, but it's the closest approximation I can think of. The trunks, for lack of a better word, were kind of a brown-grey mix, as though it was made of metal and painted over. The "leaves" looked like huge sickly-yellow fans dangling off of each branch. Given the apparent consistency of the trunks, I was willing to bet money that I could lose bits and pieces if they started falling.

I'm starting to think that this conveniently placed clearing/crater that I'm sitting in might be the safest spot for me within a few miles.

After tearing my eyes away from the "trees," I finally take inventory of what I've got. I'm still wearing the clothes I had on when I left my apartment this morning, pockets still full. Not sure how much good my smart phone or keys are going to be here, but it's probably a number close to zero. Shifting around reminded me that I had been wearing a backpack before this and that it was still there. Sliding it off my back, I heard a clanking sound that I don't remember associating with this particular item or anything inside of it.

Unzipping the main pouch, I found a rolled-up blanket, two full canteens, three bags of beef jerky, a couple boxes of raisins, and a bunch of tin foil wrapped packages, which turned out to be biscuits. All things that I'm fairly certain I didn't put in there. Searching the other sections revealed a flashlight with some spare batteries, a pocket knife, a compass, flint and steel, two rolls of toilet paper, some toiletries, my Kindle book-reader, and a small medical kit. A small note was stuck to the last item, typed in block print.

You have a long journey ahead of you, but this should help you get part of the way. Follow the sun's trail and you'll find the path.

In typical mysterious benefactor fashion, the note was unsigned.

That's not cryptic as hell. Well, at least they aren't complete monsters. They did leave me toilet paper after all.

Act 1: Chapter 2

There Are Many Sticks Like It, But This One Is Mine.

[Day 1: January 1, 2017.]

It took me an hour to figure out which direction the sun was headed, using a trick I learned while teaching an intro GPS course. While wary of the potentially deadly leaves, I used a stick to mark the position of the edge of the shadow produced by one of the trees, noting which direction the shadow moved every five minutes and making a new mark.

I probably could have just stared at the sky for an hour, but I have a thing about making stuff more complicated than it has to be.

It was a fairly sturdy stick, about waist-high, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I swung it around and made mock-fighting noises with my mouth while I waited. About fifteen minutes into the wait, I made the executive decision to take the stick with me and refer to it with capital letters. Blame my time in the Boy Scouts, but I had the urge to whittle it into something useful. Like a walking Stick. Or a whacking Stick. Depends on what I'm using it for at the time, I guess. In any case, it's the best weapon I can get my hands on at the moment. Punching the local predators does not sound like a bright idea, but that may just be my fancy edumacation talking.

On a side note, it turns out that those trees are not some weird wood-metal amalgamation like I thought they were. While that negated any new-found leaf related phobia, that didn't mean the wood was soft by any means. The bark (and I hesitate to call it that) was more like chitin. You know, that stuff on bugs. Which made it remarkably difficult to peel off with my knife and lead to much cussing under my breath. Though I eventually carved myself a grip before giving up, I'm pretty sure that I managed to dull the pocket knife in the process.

After checking the shadow and my compass, I was relieved to discover that this wasn't some bizarro world where the sun went from east to west or north to south. Grabbing my walking/whacking Stick, I set off on my grand adventure.

Now where's the obligatory old wizard offering side quests and magic swords? I feel like I got ripped off on this whole "mystic journey" deal.

[Day 1: January 1, 2017]

You know, my parents always said it was bad when you talked to yourself more than you did with other people, but with nobody else around there were few options. I'd talk with Stick, but he's a terrible conversationalist and he said some rather foul things about my lineage, so we're giving each other the silent treatment. So I've been talking with the only other intelligent life within at least a few miles: myself.

I haven't said much back, but then I've always been a better listener than a speaker.

Inane chatter with myself has always been how I've dealt with dead silence. I've been an introvert since I was a kid, so I like my alone time. But there's a big difference between my quiet apartment and the unnatural silence of this place. The apartment was comfortable because I always knew there were people nearby since I could generally hear them moving around. But this place?

There aren't even goddamn birds chirping. The occasional rustling in the distance made me jump once or twice since I started walking. Otherwise, I seem to be the only living thing besides the trees. I don't know if there are actually any people around. Or even animals for that matter.

I used to get uneasy when I stayed alone at my parents' old house, at the emptiness and random sounds from the house shifting. This…nothingness, I guess? The nothingness around me outright unnerves me.

The crunch of dirt beneath my shoes feels like it carries for miles. A thought occurs to me as I walk. This place kind of reminds me of Ilos from the first Mass Effect game. Only, I'm not sure this place was ever inhabited. I've been walking for about three hours and I've yet to see any sign of artificial construction or basic tool use. Just trees, dirt, brown-green grass, more trees, and a creek.

I did find a footprint eventually. Judging by the size, it was from something I quickly filed in the "NOPE" category. A beastie with claws that big probably isn't an herbivore and I'd bet that I'm pretty tasty. Luckily, it wasn't heading east and I haven't found more since.

Checking my watch and the position of the sun, I've probably got about four more hours of sunlight.

Turns out, I only had two. Interestingly, this place (which by now I'm pretty damn sure isn't Earth) runs on a twenty-two hour cycle. That's gonna play havoc on my biological clock. And my wrist watch.

Fun fact: the bark on the trees isn't flammable. In fact, it's pretty much fire retardant. It took me about ten minutes to figure that out when I tried to make a campfire, another ten to peel the bark off some branches, and three seconds to figure out that lighting a fire anywhere near these trees was a bad idea. For reasons that would likely make a botanist cry, the trees' leaves were incredibly flammable. I scrambled out from under it, bag and Stick in hand, as every leaf above my head turned into hissing fire demons before dropping to the ground. Thankfully, that particular tree was relatively isolated, so I didn't accidentally cause a forest fire.

Naturally, campfire mk. II was made using a collection of brown-green grass and some leaves I knocked down with Stick. I made sure to make it in a small clearing this time, though I still almost caught myself on fire given how fast the leaves ignited. Given that I didn't know why they did that, I made sure to stay upwind of the fire at all times to avoid any potentially nasty gases it might be producing.

I wrapped myself up in my blanket before munching on a light meal of a few pieces of jerky, a quarter of a biscuit, and a few sips of water. Not really enough to fill me, but I did have to ration this stuff. Not really having anything else to do, I stared into the fire for a few hours, occasionally putting more leaves in and poking it with Stick. Serves the bastard right for what he said earlier.

Unfortunately for my special brand of crazy, the fire puttered out pretty quickly after I stopped feeding it, leaving me in darkness. I poked the embers a few more time before my eyes turned up to the stars to provide entertainment. That died as quickly as the fire did.

I couldn't find any familiar constellations or planets, though I could see slightly bigger points of light that I think are planets. The moon was outright missing. No dark blot where it should be. Just gone.

The realization that I wasn't on Earth anymore was acknowledged a while ago, but didn't really sink in until now. The trees were strange, but not outright alien enough to make the feeling kick in. But no moon?

Most people would probably be freaking out right now, or rather hours ago. Me? I…I actually feel kind of content. Slightly annoyed that I almost roasted myself, but content and maybe something else. I've had a weird relationship with my emotions since puberty. I started having spells of really bad depression during freshmen year of high school. Saw a counselor for two years, but wasn't medicated. It helped, but never made it go away completely.

Since then, I haven't been as expressive as I was when I was a kid. I'm not emotionless, it just felt like everything was muted, for lack of a better term. Like if emotions are supposed to be vibrant colors, I was seeing varying shades of gray. I can still feel them and tell the difference.

So when I got dropped here, I was more annoyed at the inconvenience than terrified at the fact that I wasn't even on the same planet anymore. In fact, I feel downright ecstatic to be on an alien world. Which is kind of odd since I haven't quite felt "ecstatic" in a long time.

Oh, and unnerved at the silence. Can't forget that.

I huddled under my blanket for a likely unrestful night's sleep.

[Day 2: January 2, 2017]

I groaned as I woke up, desperately willing myself to go back to sleep. I think I finally nodded off somewhere around 2 AM Earth time. Still bleary-eyed, I noticed a weight on my legs. I went to reach for it, thinking that I might have pulled my bag onto me during the night.

I felt something that was most certainly not my bag. I've seen enough cartoons and anime to know where this is going. Either A) it's going to be funny or B) I'm about to get mauled.

Now wide awake, I sat up slowly and looked down.

Curled up on my lap was a tiny bundle of adorableness. If I needed more proof that I wasn't on Earth, I just found it. The little thing looked like a cross between an armadillo and a housecat, and was about the same size too. Most of its body was covered in little mottled tan-brown plates, though there were sections of exposed skin covered with slightly darker fur at its joints and neck. Its ears, or at least where ears would be on a cat, were short, rounded, and unarmored. Its face was covered by the same plates as the rest of its body except for its eyes and lower jaw.

My touch and stirring had jostled it awake. Instead of going for the face, like I was expecting, it just looked up at me with its gold eyes. It didn't have a more than a nub for a tail, but I figure that it would likely have been swishing from side to side like a cat's if it did. I got the distinct impression that it was expecting something.

With a slightly trembling hand, I fished out a piece of jerky from my bag without looking away. If this thing is anything like my late grandparents' cats, attempting to bribe it is always a good first idea. It gave the meat a few sniffs before gently taking it from my fingers. I adjusted myself slightly on the cold hard ground as it ate. After partaking of my offering, it proceeded stretch, curl back up into a ball, and ignore me.

Huh. It really is a tiny, armored cat. Right down to it little padded…feet.

Yeah…I've seen that pattern before. My mind flashes back to the footprint I found yesterday. I recalled it being just a little bit bigger. If this is the baby, where's mama?

The feeling of hot air on the back of my neck answered that question a lot sooner than I would have preferred.

Act 1: Chapter 3

I Thought I'd Try a Career In the Circus…

[Day 2: January 2, 2017]

It took a great amount of effort on my part not to void my currently full bowels and hold absolutely still. I felt the hot air again as the great beast behind me sniffed once, then twice. I closed my eyes and pleaded desperately with the universe.

Not food! Not food!

A slowly-building growl caused me to immediately change my thought to something a bit more clarifying.

Friend! Friend!

The rumbling growl faded away, followed by soft, though massive, feet displacing dirt. I cautiously opened an eye, only to find Mama standing in front of me, mouth only a few inches from my face. I couldn't stop myself from analyzing what I saw. Baby was a tiny ball of cuteness that was a mix of armadillo and cat. Mama, on the other hand, looked like a mountain lion got busy with a main battle tank and scared the fuzzy feelings away.

From what I could see, she was about ten feet long from nose to nub-tail and stood roughly six and a half feet tall. Based on size alone, she'd probably weigh in about the same amount as a Clydesdale, so around a ton.

Christ, those teeth are huge!

…And currently not chomping my face off, I am relieved to add. Slowly opening my other eye, I repeated my previous thought out loud, "Friend?"

That word was accompanied by a feeling of brief light-headedness. Must be adrenaline. Mama paused and sniffed me one last time before she did something that surprised the hell out of me. Her massive head lowered down to my shoulder as she started rubbing the unarmored part of her face on my jacket. After that, she just moved her considerable bulk past me and laid down with an audible thump.

If I had a mirror, I think I'd see a look of stunned befuddlement on my face. If I'm remembering my cat behaviors and physiology correctly, then I think I was just claimed. Rubbing her face against me would have released pheromones from glands in her cheeks that basically say "mine" to anything that can smell them. Not actually sure if she has those glands or if that's just in smaller felines.

Further thought was cut off by the cub shifting on my lap, reminding me that I had a full bladder. Gently displacing it, I rushed quietly behind a nearby tree. When I came back, I found the clearing had gained a new occupant.

I thought Mama was big. Daddy was a hell of a lot bigger.

Thankfully, Daddy was less inclined to rip my face off since I had been claimed as an unofficial cub. That didn't prevent me from being scared shitless when my new "brother" decided he wanted to play. I held real still for a while until I realized that the murdercats weren't going to tear me to pieces for messing with their young.

I can't tell you how profoundly disturbing I find that. To my understanding, there are no mammalian species, absolutely zero, that would let some stranger anywhere near their young uncontested.

So I found my perpetually unnerved self playing with the miniature death machine for an hour, using my flashlight to make an improvised game of "chase the glowing dot." The gnawing dread eventually gave way to a content smile and some laughter. Growing up on my grandparents' farm gave me an appreciation for animals. Hell, I get along with animals better than I do people. Playing with pets is one of the few guaranteed ways I'd get myself to smile.

I just never thought I'd be applying those habits to horse-sized felines. I tossed a few pieces of jerky to the adults as I mulled over my predicament.

I'm still scratching my head at this whole situation. I've never dealt with big cats back home, so I have nothing to compare it to. Do they communicate telepathically and heard my thoughts? Am I suddenly a murdercat whisperer? Or was it all just a weird coincidence? They're giant alien war-cats. I can't really discount anything at this point, no matter how strange or improbable.

Eventually, I had to pack it up. My mysterious destination wasn't getting any closer by playing with Heracles. Yes, I named the little bugger. I named all of them. If the little one is going to be anything like his old man, the name fits very well. Also, because of the Nemean Lion story.

Daddy is Richard. Like King Richard the Lion-Hearted. That title was the only reason. Don't judge me.

Mama is Brunhild. I don't really know any female mythological/historical figures associated with lions, so I went the other direction. I think it's supposed to mean "battle armor" or something.

With a sigh, I slung my bag back up on my shoulder. Now that I was comfortable around them, I kind of didn't want to leave.

I smiled at each of them, "I had fun, but I need to get going. I can't just sit here all day." Even if they can't speak, that doesn't mean they are incapable of understanding me. Might as well be polite.

Just as I was starting to walk away, I stopped as I heard movement behind me.

Looking over my shoulder, I found that all three of my new friends had gotten up to follow me. I blinked. Once. Twice.

I couldn't stop the stupid grin from spreading across my face. I wasn't alone anymore.

[Day 34: February 3, 2017]

It's been about a month since I ended up on…wherever here is. I still haven't found any clues. I've been encountering more animals ever since the Murdercat Three found me, though they've been mauled horrendously before I ever see them. It's a nice gesture on their part since my food ran out weeks ago. I've been avoiding the local fruit altogether. I can't tell what's poisonous and what's not, so I decided not to take the risk.

Sleep's been easier to get, too, since we all gather around for warmth at night. They produce an astounding amount of body heat, which isn't exactly surprising given their size. Other predators, and I know there are more, don't mess with us. Seems my feline friends are apex predators.

Right now, I'm keeping an eye on the meat I've got roasting over the fire. I managed to craft a makeshift spit to cook a larger hunk of meat. I'm not quite sure what it classifies as. It's not fowl, pork, beef, or any other edible meat that I know of, but I haven't had any problems digesting it. Kind of bland, though. But I can't complain too much about having a full stomach.

I poke at a hole in my shirt and frown. I don't remember that being there yesterday.

My clothes are getting pretty worn and rather odious by this point. Lacking any other options, I've had to just stick it out. Our trail so far has stayed close to a stream, so we haven't had to go far for water. I've taken a few opportunities to scrub myself and my clothes as best I can, but the stink remains. Only so much I can do without soap.

I've noticed something a bit odd with me as we've traveled. I don't know where I'm going, but I don't have the feeling of being lost. Maybe it's because I've got a general direction to go off of. Maybe it's nothing.

Out on the horizon is the beginning of a mountain range. It's the first bit of landscape that I've seen that isn't a tree. I think I spotted something about half way up one of the mountains a few hours ago, but it may have been a trick of the light. Or I'm just getting impatient and I'm starting to see things. Either way, we'll probably get there in a more days.

[Day 36: February 5, 2017]

I'm cussing out my past self for actually wanting to find other people as I sprint-limp through the brush, Heracles on my trail. The reason for my limp?

I've got a fucking bullet in my leg. And the guy who shot me has friends. A lot of friends. They're all hooting and hollering a storm behind me. Oh and speaking of storms, a big thunder storm rolled in about ten minutes before they found me. So sight is limited too, just to add onto the shit-fest.

I got separated from Richard and Brunhild by some pit traps, though judging from the screams earlier, they managed to get out. I'll say again, they are some vicious beasties.

Wait, why did the world just move sideways?

I didn't get much more time to think as I slammed into the trunk of a tree. Groaning, I rolled over. My eyes refocused in time to get a look at my attacker.

She, and she's definitely female, is covered up in tanned hide, dyed blue, and her face hidden by a blank-featured bone-white mask with two eye holes. Maybe she's some kind of shaman? Rather than any weapons, she's just holding out a hand, palm facing me.

Wait, what?

Before I can analyze what the fuck just happened, she starts motioning like she's going to do whatever she did again.

I'm not sure what prompted it or why, but I interposed Stick between whatever she threw at me and my squishy self. And by God, it worked. Some…invisible thing slammed into Stick and stopped. My improvised weapon, on the other hand, was glowing like a lightbulb and rattling like crazy.

Apparently, this shocked shaman-lady almost as much as it did me, because she spent only slightly less time staring at it. But it was enough.

Heracles roared with the power of a beast several times his size and went for the face. Or mask, in this case. His claws carved furrows into the material, latching on tight. In the end, she ripped the mask and Heracles off of her head, revealing a face that wouldn't have been out of place in Hollywood.

In what little light I had, I saw dusky skin, black hair, and dark brown eyes on a face that wasn't quite delicate, but not masculine. I'd guess her age would be about late twenties or so. She'd be a lot more attractive if she and her buddies weren't, you know, trying to kill me. But you know the most troubling fact?

She was human. Not some weird alien monstrosity. Human. And trying to kill me. Can't stop reiterating that last bit.

Heracles' flying tackle-hug had given me enough time to get back on my feet. Taking Stick in two hands, I gave a roar of my own and stagger-charged the woman. While she was recovering herself, I swung with my now glow-in-the-dark cudgel, connecting with her right arm. A thunderous boom rang out, followed by a sickening crack and a scream of pain. The thought to swing again crossed my mind, but not before the feeling of lightheadedness that I had come to associate with all of the strange crap on this world came back with a vengeance. Now very dizzy, I took a few steps back as I tried to make the spinning stop.

Evidently, that was a mistake. My not-so-downed opponent tried something different. Something sparked in her good hand before it was thrust in my direction. Only luck had me get Stick in the way in time to try and intercept a bolt of lightning.

Luck only went so far, however.

Like before, Stick lit up and shook, but only for a split-second. Why a split-second? Because after that split-second, Stick exploded like a frag grenade. The force of the explosion knocked me on my ass and likely scrambled my brain.

Because if I were in my right mind, I don't think I'd be giggling while poking at the shards of wood imbedded in my chest with the hand that looks like it tried to arm wrestle Edward Scissorhands.

My head swam and cleared for a second, enough to register that my would-be killer was actually incapacitated. Not dead, I could see her impressive chest rise and fall slightly. A yell from a different direction drew my attention to a masked man running and pointing a spear at me, likely intending to put it in a very uncomfortable place.

His yell turned into a scream when a tan blur slammed into him, and ended abruptly as a gurgle. My eyes only focused enough to be able to recognize Brunhild. At any other time, I might have been sickened to see the globs of dark liquid around her jaw. Right now? I just don't care.

Help…

She knelt down far enough for me to drag myself onto her back. While the plates weren't exactly comfortable, it was safe.

My vision fades in and out as she runs. Intellectually, I know I'm losing blood from the shards in my chest, the cuts on my hand, and the bullet in my leg. I should be in a lot of pain, but I'm not. My brain's sluggish, likely a concussion.

Can't let myself pass out…

I bite my lip to try and keep myself awake. It was only somewhat successful. My eyes droop closed and snap open a few times.

Huh. Guess we were closer to that structure than I thought. Brunhild seems to know where she's going. Or where I need to be. We've passed under some kind of archway. Maybe there was a door there at some point.

Lightning strikes in the distance, illuminating the world for a brief moment.

It's a ruin of some kind. Shaped stone. Worked metal. Artificial. Old. Ivy growing over everything.

Abandoned.

There's nothing here but a tomb and ghosts of a bygone age. What is this place?

Brunhild plods towards the back of the ruin. A tree? What is it with this place and goddamn trees? She kneels by the trunk and I slide off. I weakly drag myself up so that my back is pressed against it.

Things are starting to fade out again.

Help…

The world spins. Brunhild makes a low rumbling noise and tries to lick at the cuts on my arm. Without thumbs and tools, that's probably the best she can do.

Just as I am about to pass out, I see something moving out of the corner of my eye.

"W-Who?" I ask.

A deep, rumbling voice sounds from behind me in reply as I succumb, "I am Ood. Rest, sapling. You are safe."

Act 1: Chapter 4

When in a Forest, Make Like a Tree

[Day 38: February 7, 2017]

You know, I think I've gotten used to having the sun be my alarm clock. Painful as hell, but effective. I manage to pry my eyes open and not look directly into the giant ball of flaming gas. The Trio are piled in around me, with Heracles in his usual place on my thighs. At least he didn't try sleeping on my ches-

Holy shit, how am I not dead? I was bleeding out of more holes than I've ever wanted and loopy as fuck! I should have bled out before I ever woke up again.

A glance down told me part of the how. Not only was I shirtless, someone bandaged me up. A quick check of my bag (which I had somehow kept a hold of during that clusterfuck) told me that those were my bandages. I sure as hell didn't treat my own wounds. I sincerely doubt it was those shaman people either.

No explanation for the concussion, though.

I remember Brunhild carrying me here, then ruins and a tree…

The feeling of chiton-bark at my back reminds me that I'm still leaned up against said tree. Prodding Heracles off my lap, I lever myself to my feet with Brunhild's help. She's nice like that. Well, that and I'm still fairly terrified of Richard's sheer size. I'm relieved that none of them still have blood around their mouths and claws. I'm not a hemophiliac, but seeing blood outside of a body bothers me.

I shivered in the cold air as I hobbled over to my coat. Yeah, these clothes have finally given up the ghost. I don't think I'm going to be able to scrub my own blood off them any time soon. The only thing salvageable seems to be my jacket.

I guess I should be more concerned that my right hand doesn't look like hamburger anymore. Got some badass scars though. Badass scars that look like they've had a few months to heal. My leg and chest don't hurt much either, just slight pinches.

I could understand there being no pain last night, I was running on adrenaline. Still, I grimace. My leg may not hurt, but that doesn't mean it likes having me moving around. I quickly find somewhere to relieve myself before I topple over. Stick would have been real nice to have right now, but he went the way of the hand grenade.

No explanation for that either.

I've got a lot of weird shit that needs some context. A random stick I picked up off the ground was able to absorb and redirect friggin' magic. I made friends with giant murdercats by thinking real hard about it. Tribals in freaky masks tried to murder my ass. Oh yeah, and I'm in this place to begin with. Answers would be real nice right about now.

A look around the ruins showed a few relatively fresh animal corpses. The fact that there's more than one indicates that I was out for at least a day. I checked the sun's position. Morning. I was out cold for at least a full day. Checking my watch, even though it's off by two hours, confirmed this.

I limped back over to the tree and the Trio, plopping myself down. I ran a wary eye up the trunk. There was a reason I was brought here. There is someone or something here. Wh-

I am Ood.

That phrase flashed back into my mind. I heard it when everything went dark.

Ood. It's a name, familiar. My brain's still a bit sluggish, but it's chugging away, trying to remember. Wait.

Ood Bnarr! Jedi friggin' Master Ood Bnarr! The tree is Ood Bnarr. The last living Master of the Ossus Jedi Library.

Fuck. I'm in Star Wars.

Double fuck. I'm on Ossus. Before Bnarr was found by Luke and after Exar Kun got done with it. That means no way off this rock and xenophobic Force Sensitive tribesmen to deal with. Who have already shot me.

Good news, I know which continuity I'm in. Bad news, I don't know when.

It's not the Legacy era, because Bnarr seems to still be alive and the temple is still a wreck. I'm not sure if that evens out my chances of survival. Especially since Ood Bnarr appears to still be asleep. At least the Ysana (also known as the xenophobic Force Sensitive tribesmen) stay out of the temple ruins. Which also means I'm stuck here unless I want to get shot at again.

"Hello? Ood?" I call out loud, meanwhile questioning my sanity as I talk to a tree.

As expected, nothing. The wind shuffles some of his branches. If he's not actually asleep, I'm gonna be pissed. Then again, I can't recall Ood having much of a sense of humor in the comics. Feigning sleep for a cheap laugh would probably be out of character for him.

The minutes tick by as I stare at the tree. If I remember right, Ood woke up from hibernation when Luke and Sedriss Q were fighting here, throwing around the Force.

The Force.

Suddenly, a lot of the things that have been happening for the past month are finally starting to make sense. I befriended the Trio by thinking hard about them seeing me as a friend. I absorbed Force Lightning and a Force Blast. I always felt like I was going in the right direction even when I didn't know my destination. Every time something strange happened, I got dizzy.

That dizziness was me fumbling my way through the Force. Like trying to walk using a leg you never knew you had or speak in a language you just started learning.

Leaning back against Brunhild's flank, I scratched at her neck as I thought about what to try next. Ood woke up long enough to patch me up and accelerate my healing at a rate that until now I thought was impossible. Something I did shook him out of hibernation. I was propped up against him before calling out though the Force. Maybe I could try projecting a thought, like I did with the Murdercat Three.

Closing my eyes, I concentrate on a single thought and will it towards the tree before me. I may or may not have taken some inspiration from Kreia.

Awaken… I whispered through the Force. Maybe I took a bit too much inspiration as nothing happened.

Awaken, I thought a little louder. Nothing.

Wake up! I shouted in my head.

Then, I knew it worked, as my sight immediately started spinning. Watching Ood Bnarr wake up was, quite frankly, awe-inspiring. Untrained as I am, I could feel him as he returned to consciousness. That feeling reminded me of a comparison between a pebble and a mountain. No points for guessing which one I feel like right now. He's been here for God knows how long. Centuries at least, judging by the condition of the ruins. Centuries of just drinking in the ambient energy in the environment. His branches creaked and cracked as he stretched and shifted, reminding me that Neti do have some ability to control their shape. Something resembling a face morphed into being about mid-way up the trunk.

We just kind of stared at each other for a minute. I wasn't sure where to start and I think he was examining me.

"I trust your injuries are healing well?" You could hear the age in that voice. Like a deeper version of the sounds old books make.

"Y-yeah," I internally cuss at the stutter, "Yeah, nothing's hurting. My leg isn't really supporting my weight too well, though. Kind of expected after getting shot."

"Indeed," Ood agreed, "Mild nerve damage is to be expected after a slugthrower injury. I have done what I can, but it will still require time to completely heal. A week, perhaps two."

I blink at that. Jedi healing is damn near miracle work, apparently. Back home, a bullet wound might have lasting effects for months, at the least, especially for a calf muscle. Ood just shaved an obscene amount of time off recovery and physical therapy. I'm not even going to ask about how he treated the concussion. Well, I will, just in a different manner.

I took a deep breath and released it, "Would you be willing to teach me how to do that?"

"Oh?"

"Not just the healing, but all of these things I've been stumbling through for the past month. Why I was able to make friends with them," I nodded my head towards the murdercats, "among other things. I was guided here for a reason. I think it was to learn from you."

I honestly don't think that he'll refuse. In the comics, Ood Bnarr was portrayed as a dedicated scholar, always willing to teach those who wanted to learn. My age isn't a problem. After all, he was from before they started the whole training from infancy thing.

"I want to survive. I was dumped here by something and now suddenly I can do things that weren't possible back home. I want to learn how to control it before I hurt myself," I paused before looking down and muttering, "Well, hurt myself more."

The Neti Master seemed to be scrutinizing me as I spoke. The pseudo-face didn't really make an expression, not that I thought it was capable of it to begin with. I think he made it so that I wouldn't just be talking to a blank trunk. Rather considerate of him.

The silence dragged on long enough that I started to suspect that he fell asleep again. I didn't say anything. After all, Jedi love their tests and this might be one to test my patience.

I shivered a bit as the wind reminded me that I no longer had a shirt. I zipped up my coat with a little effort.

"Very well," Those two simple words sparked a feeling of excitement in my chest, "Before we begin, what is your name, Padawan?"

"Isaac. Isaac Butler," I replied, "Thank you…Master Ood."

With introductions finished, I leaned back into Brunhild and listened as the ancient Neti began his first lecture.