The water drops press into your skin like cold dead hands, and again the ghastly image of... Ciira Treen appears to you, limping from behind one of the old gnarled trees. She looks as if she has been drowned, as 'Myraline' did earlier.
"We want to see what you are made of," Ciira gurgles. "And where you break."
"You would have let me die?" Ciira says, her voice warbling with undertones of other voices. She lashes out with a hand, and you feel a spray of water drops hit you in the chest like a crowbar. It knocks you to the ground, grinding you over tree roots before hitting a stump. "No! You're too weak and pathetic, Jedi!"
You take 16 damage from your Fling.