The hooded figure leapt up, onto the back of the next spider, driving the green lightsaber into it's back, ending it's life with a painful shriek. Before the last spider could turn, he lifted it into the air with Force and flung his lightsaber into the wryyyschokk's underbelly. Green blood rained down onto the ground, followed by the now lifeless body of the spider.

Venar and Bastila stood in amazement at the hooded figure still standing on the back of the fallen wryyyschokk. The newcomer extinguished his lightsaber and clipped it to his belt before slowly pulling back his hood.

"What?" He said almost accusory, he was an older man with dark skin and wrinkles and a couple patches of gray hair on either side of his head. "Stop fawning at me like I'm some ancient relic in a museum. You got names?"

"Ah... Venar Moonrunner."

"Bastila Shan. And who might you be?"

"I'm Jolee Bindo," he said matter-of-factly.

"You're a Jedi," Venar said more as more of an observation than a question.

"Am I? What because I use the Force and carry a lightsaber?"

"Well... yeah..."

"Bah! I haven't been a Jedi for a long time," Jolee said with a sigh. "I live here." He jumped down off the spider and walked towards the others.

"You... live here?" Bastila asked.

"Ay! Don't you judge me!" Jolee shot back. "I'm too old for that nonsense."

"I didn't mean anyth-"

"Bah!" The old man threw up his arms in defeat. "Just follow me. My hut is close. It's not safe down here ya know."

Jolee didn't even wait to see if they were following him, he just began trudging off through the forest, his boots sloshing in the mud. Venar and Bastila stood there exchanging looks of disbelief.

"You coming?!" He called back.

"Yep!" Venar called back, immediately running to catch up. "We're coming!"

--------------------------------------------------------------

Thunder boomed over a young Juhani's head. Only it wasn't thunder at all, it the impact tremor of an explosion somewhere in one of the upper levels of Taris. The Mandalorians had come to Taris, and even now were besieging the planet. Her parents had ushered her and her sister out of bed late in the night as the fighting drew closer. Republic forces and local militias had begun engaging the armored warriors in the streets. So far, the fighting had yet to reach the Lower City.

Her father was taking them to the Czerka warehouse where he worked. He said they would be safe there, that Czerka had a bomb shelter there in case of this very scenario. They were only a few blocks away now, and her father ushered them along the dimly lit streets of the Lower City. There weren't many others about, everyone was likely huddled in their tiny apartments, hoping to ride out the violence that was taking place above.

The warehouse itself was a manufacturing facility that currently was producing fine and expensive clothing, shimmersilk robes and tunics lined with gold, the exact kind of garb that was common to see among the nobles of the Upper City. What good those fine garments did them now, Juhani thought as another explosion sounded above. Little bits of permacrete fell from above in little chunks and dust landing around their feet as they hurried.

Her father, Tordun, worked as a maintenance worker for the many machines that spun the various threads and silks that made the various garments. The machines frequently broke down, and it was up to him and the other two dozen maintenance staff to fix them. Besides the maintenance crew, there were at least another hundred workers at the warehouse, mostly alien species, that worked day in and day out to churn out product at a steady rate, often without breaks and proper safety equipment. Of course, all of this was so the workers could take home a minimal paycheck at the end of the day which would quickly disappear to cover the expenses of merely existing as an individual, nevermind the expenses of a family.

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