Somewhere in the wilds of Dathomir...
"Kitchi ryn gofin, Jodo," the haggard old woman says, forcefuly jerking a wrinkled finger in the young Jedi's face. Ignoring the bustle of activity around the small village behind him, Jodo Baas quietly tries to soothe the woman's temper.
"Fre'lin kil netro preen, borka les tikina," he gently responds, which softens the old woman's bunched features. They can feel the presence too, and they think it's my fault! he thinks to himself, ushering the Elder of the Cray Claw clan back to her tent, ignoring a few stray stares from others stopping in their chores to notice him. After assuring the Elder woman of her safety once more, Jodo sighs as he scans the surroundings of the small jungle village, watching a mounted scout steer her saddled rancor through the dense underbrush.
Somebody knew he was here on Dathomir. Either that, or something incredibly evil had taken an intrest in the backwater planet, which was equally as dangerous. For five years Jodo had lived with the women of the Cray Claw clan, using his "magic" to keep them safe from the wilds of the jungle and Imperial occupation. Whatever this dark presence is, however, is something else entirely. But I'll be damned if I let them hurt my people, he affirms to himself, frowning as the mounted rancor disappears from sight through the trees.
Gathering his dusty brown raincloak around his body and flipping the hood over his full head of long brown hair, Jodo Baas takes off at a jog in the general direction of the rancor scout, his mind fearing the worst. After all this time, it had finally happened.
The Dark Side had found its way to Dathomir.