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Cal Enesic


Homeworld: Aldivy

Mentor(s): Cael Dan'kor, Dreshin Bralor

Species: Human


Clouds pass by slow some days; rays of sunlight breaking through gray sky, casting outlines on endless fields of grain and grass. Miles inland from the coastline, a gentle dip in the terrain created a shallow valley. Most of the moisture from the ocean breeze was caught on the overlying hills, so winds that blew through were pleasant and dry.

There were the grapes to consider. New Alderaanian Blue hybrid flourished in this particular region. The bittersweet fruit had thrived well on Aldivy since its introduction decades ago, and though old man Jav wouldn’t admit to it out loud, locals were convinced that they were the secret to his prize-winning Banthas. Fifteen percent smaller than the average M-Class breeding stock, their beautifully marbled meat and soft pelts fetched good price at auction, and being a tender to the flock meant getting a cut.

Lifting a canteen to his lips and pulling a long draw, Old Red glanced towards the clouded sky. Rain during round-up too much to hope for? A grimace and a kick to the side of his streed and he galloped off to begin the day’s work.
“Uncle Red!”

The seven-year-old could barely be made out above the stampede. With a sharp “Hiya!” to match the swift jab to the animal’s side, he turned towards her voice. Lurching into motion, the beast between his legs cried out in complaint before pushing forth with powerful quadriceps and matching pace with the herd in just meters. It took only seconds for him to come into sight of the young voice’s owner.

Between brown, black, and gray blurs of fur he could see Cal. Hands grasping gently on the neck of her mount, the reigns hanging down loosely in front. Zuteganya was an old streed, obedient and well-trained, but like any other beast of burden he was liable to make up his own mind about where he ought and ought not go when his reigns were released. Despite that, the nimble animal kept a healthy distance and stayed in formation, helping route the herd without so much as a tug or a pull from Cal. His rider’s eyes in soft focus, calm breathing, and a gentle but steady hold on the beast’s neck.

Red pulled back on his reigns, slowing down to a more relaxed pace to keep alongside the pack.

“Well by Jav, ain’t that something.”

I found this girl on Aldivy. Take her to Blue.
Hoping you’ve not forgotten our agreement. Expect I will once you finish this job.
Be well old friend.


It wasn’t the young boy’s first time counting paces. Counting off a few miles of the Great Hall wasn’t a cruel punishment to him, he understood it was intended for him to focus and reflect on his actions. To the knowing viewer, the serious tone of his counting was twisted by the smile on his face, betraying the reason for his punishment. The image of a fat fruit pie hitting his Rodian clan-mate in the side of the face would continue to bring him delight for many years to come.

The memory of his clan’s laughter was cut short by another hushed tone. Behind him, one of the older Padawans held her hands together and counted off step by step to herself in the same reserved tones. As the taller student caught up to him, he bowed and raised a cautious voice.

“Did you get in trouble too?” He asked tepidly. Counting steps was usually reserved as a reprimand for younger students.

Cal’s eyes raised to meet the young boy and she matched his bow before responding.

“Naw, just practicing.”

“Practicing for getting punished?” asked the now-confused boy.

The girl stopped and pushed back the hood from her robe. Dark amber hair framed her fair complexion as her eyes met to negotiate with his gaze. Just underneath her robes he could spy the shapes of more utilitarian clothing, with hints of softer colors underneath. As the air moved in with her he could smell fresh air, and the sunlight that fell in through the massive windows felt that much warmer.

She spoke in a low monotone, and not unlike any teenage girl her words carried the tone of a great secret, carrying itself confidently across the short distance.

“I used to count Banthas for my Uncle Red. He said it was akin to meditation; focusin’ on a simple notion and keepin’ at it. My Masters say that one day I may have to count lives, votes, or even Padawans, so I should enjoy counting steps before I have to worry about counting anything that I could risk getting attached to.”

The young boy nodded slowly. The thought of having to count the lives of the living and the dead was a new concept for the five year-old’s mind to comprehend, and a frown started to pass across his face at the thought of all those poor people, and the poor Jedi who would have to tell their mommies and daddies that they wouldn’t be coming home, and…

“Don’t worry about bitin’ off more’n you can chew; your mouth is probably a whole lot bigger’n you think.”

The older student offered the young boy a polite bow before bringing her hands together and continuing to count her steps down the Great Hall. Behind her, the small helmeted figure grunted in frustration. He had lost his count again.

I’m sorry if my last messaged conveyed an unhealthy amount of fear in my words. Cal’s studies are progressing well, but biologically speaking she should be in the throes of puberty right now. Human her age usually display more outward effects when their brain undergoes that hormone bath. Has she learned to control her emotions so well without my guidance, or have you had a hand in this, my friend? Neither would surprise me, but I look forward to your response, as well as your company when we return at the end of the week.

My Former Apprentice,

When we meditate, we do not cook dinner. When we cook dinner, we do not mediate arguments. When we spar, we do not clean the windows. These things need doing, and should we bother to let our engagement of the moment come at the cost of multi-minded thinking then our actions in the present become tainted by the shadows of our selves. When Cal came to us, her family’s own cultural practice of meditation prepared her for the kind of practices she would grow into here. You should follow her example and keep your focus on the task at hand.

P.S. Biologically she’s just like any other young woman. Keep an eye out and you’ll see her reach for the more fantastical adventure novels when she’s feeling…emotional.

The hiss of air from the remote added a constant to the sense deprivation. With the blast shield down and the constant humming of the lightsaber in her hands, Cal had to rely further and further on the expansion of her own senses to counter the incoming stream of bolts and blasts.

“Now begin.” came the voice of her instructor. Within moments, all but three of the remotes had retreated through the various holes in the ceiling and walls. Upon their approach, the beam emanating from the hilt in Cal’s hands disappeared completely.

It wasn’t the first time Master Secra Tiv had pulled this trick on her, but this time she was prepared. Her eyes partially closed, she stood unflinching as the light bolts splashed against her skin and threatened to cause her muscles to react beyond her control. When Knight Wesk, one of her Clan’s usual instructors had business away from the temple he would always leave her with Master Tiv. Not the worst of experiences, but the old Jedi didn’t care for anything to be done the easy way and reflected that in the twists and turns that he would add to his exercises. She secretly suspected him of being a rogue prankster, as the occasional training hilt would dispense soap instead of a blade, or the remote that would make flatulence sounds when she would miss a deflection.

The firing rate slowed down tremendously and Cal continued to keep a slow, steady breath. The low energy from the shots were simply going through her instead of being stopped by her, and if she didn’t-ZAPOW!

There it was, one full-powered blast right to the hip. Her right leg buckled under the shock, and her upper leg threatened to pull up into her chest. Taking in a sharp breath, her focus was visibly shaken. Taking a step to one side, Cal opened her eyes to watch Master Tiv nod his head approvingly.

“I fell my first time. Well done. Raise your blade and we’ll begin again.”
Journal Entry for Calliope Enesic

Knight Wesk was made a Master this morn before the Council. His years of work is well-reckoned, even if he don’t like to jaw about it. Saw him again before lunch in MED. Few of the younger students felt rightly compelled to emphasize the ‘Master’ in his name now, to which he responded by referrin’ to us as ‘bucketheads’. The clan loved it. Most of us ain’t worn our old trainin’ helms since we was younglings.

The afternoon was spent in the tool shed, looking at emitter matrices and power cells with Master Tiv. He assures me that where I’m going I won’t need any of my tools or spare parts. Don’t figger’ that’ll be so simple as he words it, spect’ as good a way as any not to let my mind get ahead of my materials.
“More rock than ferrocrete, but the view is nice. I can’t confirm any details out loud but they’re well-embedded into that mountain. A complication or two has had its toll but overall the facility has served their Order well over the years.”

The small hologram showing their destination on the forested world of Rannon winked out of existence as the vibration in the ship’s hull indicated that their descent into the atmosphere had begun. Jedi Master Tiv nodded his head in rhythm with the motion of the ship, keeping his gaze steady upon Cal.

“Respect their home, heed their ways, and be mindful of the living Force.”

His soft, knowing smile would be the last Cal would see of Master Tiv for a long time. For a moment, the thought of her standing before him, bowing with her very own lightsaber in hand fluttered past her imagination.

And then, just as easily as the image floated into her mind, it drifted away into nothingness.