Jedi Artisan 035

Obi-Wan rushed towards the medical tent in a rush, the sounds of fighting seemed more intense than usual for some reason in his ears. 

The memory of the snipers & exploding bridge the other day were still fresh in his mind, not to mention the betrayal from Satine’s own uncle. He knew people wanted her dead…and he wouldn't let it happen! 

No matter what Zane or his Master said, he could not hold back when someone he knew, someone whom he was charged to protect was in danger. He would not fail. Not again. 

Dicing through a tent flap, he emerged onto the scene just in time to see a guy in all-black Beskar armor fold a woman, and then stand over another teen with his weapon drawn. The all black vibrating sword gave off a dangerous aura as it was raised high. 

He only had seconds to analyze the situation, and come to a conclusion. The one about to be executed was the butcher Satine had gifted a set of armor too, whilst the others were participants in the trials. Clearly they had stood up in defense of the young noble, and were being slaughtered by this vicious man! 

Obi-Wan sensed a dark aura from the armored figure, and he had read enough histories to recognize that anyone who dressed like this must be up to no good! 

The young Padawan had had these thoughts all in a handful of seconds, and he was already lunging forward before he could think any further. 

“Attacking from my blind spot, how dishonorable.” The cloaked Mandalorian remarked, swiftly adjusting his blade, and meeting Obi-Wan head on. 

Barely withholding a smirk, Obi-Wan confidently swept forth, anticipating the weapon to snap in half. Then, whilst his opponent was flabbergasted, he would grab Satine and run. Although then again, he could also measure himself against this Beskar. There were rumors that it could survive contact with a lightsaber, and surely Satine wouldn't mind if he vented some of her anger at nearly being killed again, right? 

“Keep your head in the game, boy.” The Mandalorian growled, his black saber met the blue beam of plasma, did not snap in half, and then the big man twisted his weapon aside, and shoulder checked the teen. 

Obi-Wan had been so focused on his imagination, that he had only sensed his foe's intention a half second before he made his attack. However, by then, it was already too late. 

Taking a brutal hit to the chest, Obi-Wan felt one of his ribs nearly crack before he reinforced the bone with the Force. Flipping midair, he landed on an empty cot set aside for the trial takers, and flourished his blade. 

Now that he had successfully drawn the opponent’s attention, he merely needed to buy time until Master arrived. Trying to recall the lessons of Soresu that Master Yoda had imparted in passing, he knew that stalling the Mandalorian through defense was his only chance. 

“Awake now?” The Mandalorian asked, and began to slowly prowl around Obi-Wan like a predator eyeing its prey. 

Obi-Wan continued to shift in position, always holding his blade at the ready. “You do not need to do this. Infighting between Mandalorians has never done any good. If you put down your weapon now, we can talk our way out of this.” 

“Do you see my weapon pointed at any Mandalorians?” The armored figure scoffed. 

All around them, those who had overcome their fear were watching this confrontation with rapt attention. Not too long ago, they had all been beaten silly by Zane's stick. Now, watching this fight, they felt a little bit better…only. 

“Now go, and call your friends over. I do not want to be accused of beating a defenseless child.” 

Upon hearing this, Obi-Wan bristled, and for a second, lost his composure. Seemingly forgetting his prior decision, he lunged forward going for a straight stab. At the same time, he used the Force to wrap a bed sheet against the Mandalorian's shin, tying him against a small pillar. 

However, the bed sheet wasn't strong enough, and the man tore free with ease. 

His next strike came so quickly Obi-Wan barely caught it. The blades met with a sharp crack, black light against blue. The impact drove Obi-Wan back a step. He turned the next blow aside, then the next, trying to find an opening in the heavy armor.

The stranger advanced with measured steps, his sword moving in clean, economical arcs. Obi-Wan parried high, ducked low, and lunged for the gap beneath the champion’s arm. The point of his blade glanced off a beskar plate, completely harmless.

The masked warrior twisted his wrist. The Dark Saber slid along Obi-Wan’s blade and knocked it aside. Obi-Wan stumbled, barely catching himself before he hit the cot.

A murmur ran through the crowd at that. 

He reached out with the Force, aiming to shove his opponent back. The armored figure shifted at the last instant, seemingly mocking the Padawan's desperate attack with a casual flick of the cape, like some matador dancing with a bull. Obi-Wan’s push caught a support pole instead, sending several pieces of canvas off into the sunsetting sky. Crimson light bathed the two as they engaged in combat. 

The stranger gave him no time to recover. He swept low, to which Obi-Wan leapt over the blade, landed awkwardly, and raised his saber just in time to block a cut aimed at his shoulder.

“Give up. A Padawan such as yourself should be amongst those in the Service Corp.” The Mandalorian grunted. 

Obi-Wan feinted toward the helmet and cut for the knee. The stranger stepped inside his reach. A metal gauntlet struck Obi-Wan’s chest once more, knocking him to the ground. 

The Mandalorians roared in triumph, held up his weapon to the crowd, and then turned to finish the job. 

Obi-Wan barely had enough time to recover thanks to the showboating, then rolled aside before the Dark Saber came down. Its blade carved a smoking line into the ground where his shoulder had been. He came up on one knee and slashed at the warrior’s side.

The blow struck a bracer, to which the champion turned with it, caught Obi-Wan’s wrist, and wrenched his arm aside. Obi-Wan’s lightsaber flew from his hand and skidded beneath a supply table.

He reached for it through the Force, and the armored man planted a boot on the hilt.

The champion then kicked Obi-Wan’s feet out from under him. He landed hard, breath leaving him in a grunt. Before he could rise, the Dark Saber rested across his chest, the warning plain as day. 

The tent’s open front framed them for the whole square. Every Mandalorian had seen the Jedi fall.

For a heartbeat, the crowd was silent. Then it erupted in cheers.

“Mand’alor!”

“Show the Jetii”

“Put him in his place!”

The stranger lifted the blade from Obi-Wan’s chest and stepped back. He had not cut him. He had barely left a bruise. That only made the defeat sting that much worse. 

Obi-Wan pushed himself upright, wincing. His eyes flicked toward Satine. She still slept, undisturbed beneath the blanket.

The champion followed his glance. “You stood your ground for her.”

“She needed someone to.” He sarcastically remarked, a hint of wit appearing upon his youthful face. 

A pause. The mask gave nothing away.

“Then stay beside her.” the warrior said. He turned toward the crowd, red cape sweeping behind him.

The Mandalorians answered with another burst of applause. Some slapped their armor; others called for the champion to face another challenger. He strode out beneath their cheers, the black blade humming at his side.

Obi-Wan retrieved his lightsaber from beneath the table and held it at the ready. His ribs ached, and the fingers of his right hand had begun to tremble. But he refused to stop defending Satine. 

Advancing towards Obi-Wan one last time, the Mandalorian batted aside the blue blade with extreme ease. The metal hilt flew to the side once more, clattering harmlessly to the side. He then comboed into a punch aimed at Obi-Wan's stomach, sending him wretching to the ground. 

“Enough. You and your master have gone too far.” The calm voice of Qui-Gon entered the scene. 

Standing tall, the man stepped in front of his student, and radiated a reassuring aura. 

“M-master. I. Failed you.” Obi-Wan stuttered in shame. 

“No, Obi-Wan, it was I who failed you.” Qui-Gon said over his shoulder without looking back, his eyes locked entirely on the threat before him. 

Black Beskar covered him from helmet to boots. A red cape hung from his shoulders, and his mask was shaped in the grim likeness of Mandalore the Ultimate. In one hand he carried a black-bladed saber, its pale edge hissing in the open air.

By now the tent flaps were completely torn to shreds, and the scene inside was perfectly visible from those still waiting in the town square. A crowd began to form as everyone looked on in curiosity. 

The armored champion held a fist high, and tightly clenched it. 

“All I do, I do for Mandalore. My master is the will of the people. And what they most yearn for right now is peace through war.” The Mandalorian said, his deep baritone echoing throughout the square. 

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, and sighed. “I see, so that is your answer.” He then gathered Obi-Wan, and turned to go. 

The various Mandalorians shouted and jeered at Qui-Gon, calling him a coward & every obscenity under the sun. Trash was hurled at him, and a rotten fruit stained the hem of his robe. Yet not a spot landed on his student. 

“Master. Master, why? A Jedi Knight fights for the galaxy, why are you running away?” Obi-Wan asked, wanting to struggle out of his Master's grip. 

At the same time, he felt shame, shame that his Master was allowing these people to hurl so much abuse at him, yet remained silent, doing nothing. Furthermore, he felt shame in himself for being so weak. 

“Do not worry yourself, Obi-Wan, allow your Master to be stained by the ugliness of the world. I just hope that you can learn to listen to the Force more. So long as you open your ears, nothing will remain unclear.” Qui-Gon gently said, stroking his hair like a father. 

Obi-Wan belatedly realized his own robes & skin were completely unblemished. His eyes went wide as he realized that if he so wished it, not a single fruit would have landed on his Master's robe. And yet, and yet he allowed it! 

The Padawan made to open his mouth, yet nothing came out as his Master's words rang in his head. 

Listen. 

Don't act. 

Listen. 

The Force pulsed around the young teen, and time seemed to slow as the universe spoke. Those hurling fruit & obsenities became like background characters in a HoloDrama, disappearing into a faceless mass. At that single moment in time, it was like everything save for his master had lost all their color sapped away, that the world was in monochrome. 

No. 

Almost everything. 

Zane, had arrived at some point, and was weaving through the crowd of people with them subconsciously moving aside. Almost as if he were invisible to their senses. 

Then, there was the Mandalorian, his black armor & sword drank in the light, acting as magnets for the Force. 

Between the three of them, he sensed something…something extreme from the Jedi Artisan, like a performer or inventor about to reveal a great creation. 

The Force twisted, rebounded, and clung around the Knight in such a way he had only witnessed such a phenomenon once or twice in his entire life. And both circumstances involved Master Yoda or Oogway. 

This second of ‘bullet time’ was there, and gone in a flash. The noise from the crowd came screaming back, and his senses felt overwhelmed. Crying out two tears due to the intense stimulation, Obi-Wan heavily breathed to regulate himself. 

“Now watch. Watch what happens when a man answers the Call of the Force…and answers to its Will.” Qui-Gon sternly stated. 

Seconds later, all of the abuse, trash, and insults stopped all at once as if a light switch had been turned off. 

Jedi Knight Zane, the only Artisan in the Order lazily floated his way onto the scene, brightly colored beach chair and bendy straw included.