Jeela Lok
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Affiliation: Mando'ade
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Post by Jeela Lok on Oct 16, 2020 12:04:13 GMT -8
Jeela had been thinking, and for a Mandalorian, this typically precluded violence. Her thoughts of late dwelled on her people and their future, and the present filled her with dread for what was to come. Gone was the fire that burned in the soul of her people like the stories she’d been raised on, that age-old pride seemingly diminished into nothing. Now they were content to vote for their leaders, bearing more resemblance to the aruetiise. It sickened her to see them brought down to such a level, but there was little a single warrior could do on their own. Thankfully, she wasn’t alone. The message sent to the priest was succinct and to the point, requesting guidance with her coordinates included. There was no need for elaboration, as the real conversation would take place once he arrived. No doubt he’d question what she was doing so far from Mandalorian space, but she had her reasons. Mercenary work was not only profitable, but it kept her from becoming too idle, giving her an excuse to avoid the drudgery and stagnation that surrounded their shared homeworld. By the time he was due to arrive she had already secured a private booth in one of the smaller cantinas on the planet, which meant it was still a far sight bigger than the Oyu’baat back home. Still, that meant there would be less people to worry about, and fewer prying eyes on top of that. Beskar’gam tended to draw attention of all kinds, and while they both welcomed violence that wasn’t their purpose today. Kad had other plans. Action would come soon enough. Darian Beviin
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Darian Beviin
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Affiliation: Kad Ha'rangir
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Post by Darian Beviin on Oct 16, 2020 12:50:37 GMT -8
Few things could have drawn his interest beyond Manda'yaim. In twenty years, Arasuum had slowly dug his claws into the Children of Ha'rangir. After the short lived crusade against sorcerors and the subsequent defeat by Jetiise at Yavin, the dazed Mando'ade lost their spirits. The humiliation of defeat and their abandonment by the man who had rallied them to the cause left soreness and distrust, and the people began to cast distrust toward those outside their own clans. In time, this malign belief ran rampant. Darian watched in silence as the culture he loved became derelict. The Priesthood fell into disagreement, much the same. Faust, one of his most promising disciples, became dissatisfied with the High Priest's own calling. Darian had always been open and honest with his brothers. Some were called to lead, others to follow, and others still were called to cultivate. It was Darian's duty to reave through the workings of Arasuum among the Mando'ade and sow the seeds of a tenacious spirit, the love of war, and a divorce from all things aruteii. There were times when the Mando'ade embraced aspects of other culture to advance their own. Verpine technology greatly enhanced the ability to shoot, and to kill. Various precious metals could strengthen their armor and evolve their absolute defense further. But things like democracy, like the governance of the Republic or the tyranny of the Empire had no place in their society. Mand'alor was not an elected official, nor was he a King. Mand'alor was a symbol that, in time of great need, rose up and unified the defunct Clans under a single ideal. Though he eventually failed in his duties, Intalbo had unified the Clans. Not since the time of the Great Crusade had one who named themselves Mand'alor managed that feat. Darian looked out over a city of sin with a grim, albeit stony expression. Before he stepped out of the derelict freighter and into the streets filled with pheromones and the smell of sex, the Kaddist pulled his buy'ce overhead. The HUD flickered to life and the distinct, familiar flavor of metal and heat filled his mouth. He eschewed all things that were not of Kad, and he removed himself from all things not Mando'ad. The people of Zeltros would not reach him, the sins and the sloth of this world could not touch him. Preserved in the blessings of Kad, he was indestructible. As he strode through the streets, the people clambered over one another, grinding, touching, wriggling, writhing and lusting after their peers in a neverending loop. He kept his vision forward. They were beyond salvation, and one day, perhaps soon, the Destroyer would stretch his hand out and have them devoured. Darian prayed thus over their souls, to bear them toward death and freedom from their slothful lives. Arasuum's touch was a cruel fate. Inside of the cantina where they agreed to meet, finally, the old Priest found Jeela rightly removed from the rest of the crowd, awaiting him. "Su'cuy, ner'ad," he greeted warmly. It was their way not to interact too warmly with outsiders, and so, his voice lacked the humanity it might have had without a helmet. There was no cause for him to remove it among outsiders. She understood this.
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Jeela Lok
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Posts: 2
Affiliation: Mando'ade
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Post by Jeela Lok on Oct 16, 2020 17:08:38 GMT -8
The sight of another T-visor was a welcome one, and Jeela found herself smiling beneath her buy’ce as Darian came into sight. It was long overdue that they cross paths again, her only regret being that it took place in such a venue. Such was the consequence, with Manda’yaim no longer being the haven of old, but now a harbor for Arasuum. Location may have changed, but their belief varied little. It was time for change, and if the people would not do so of their own accord, then force was the only option left.
As he approached and greeted her, she bowed her head. “It’s good to see you again, ba’vodu.” It had been a few years since they’d sat down to speak, but it wasn’t personal. Their people were a traditionally nomadic one, and although she returned to Mandalore to visit family and clan every now and again, there was no need to seek out a shekemir each time. He had his own business to attend, as did she, and the hunt called her away more often than not.
“I’ve been thinking lately, about what’s become of our people.” They both had been, more like than not. “The present Mand’alor ignores his own history and welcomes the same people who killed my father. He was elected instead of earning his title. He behaves more like the aruetiise than a true Mando’ad.” These were truths they both knew well, but this was more her way of venting than a true conversation just yet. She only spoke of these things with him, as those of her clan found little warmth in the same beliefs.
She straightened just slightly before next speaking, her gaze more intense behind her helmet. “I want to kill him and take back our people, but I can’t do it by myself. Even if I won a challenge, it would be a war. I don’t know what the answer is, but I won’t watch Arasuum claim our home. If they won’t learn, then it’s time we make them.”
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Maxin Fel
Member
Posts: 13
Affiliation: First Order [Fel Imperium]
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Post by Maxin Fel on Oct 17, 2020 13:45:13 GMT -8
Zeltros City The Nebula Tower Hotel [Seperate from Jeela/Darian
The door to the lobby slid open from the center - the seemingly solid piece of pearlescent material sliding aside in three triangular sections that tucked themselves away silently into the doorframe. Maxin couldn't help but notice the complete absence of the usual hiss of air that accompanied the blast doors on Star Destroyers. After spending so long on military craft you stopped thinking about the vacuum seals that caused the noise and began unconsciously accepting it as a part of life. It wasn't until it the sound was absen that the gravity of just how long you'd been away hit you. And hit Maxin it did, almost as hard as the cloud of floral aroma that slapped him in the face as he walked into the ornate lobby of the hotel. Golden wood panels cut a walkway through the room which was almost exclusively built with the same pearlescent material the door had been. The room was lit by several hanging chandeliers and the glow rods housed within cast a white glow that caused the pearlescent room to shimmer with a cascade of vibrant colors. Aside from a few needlessly expensive waiting chairs, the front desk, a few doors like the one leading in and a holoprojector quietly playing a local channel there was little else.
Maxin coughed away the overpowering mist of floral aroma and swam through it towards the main desk where a fair, pink skinned zeltron female waited patiently. The first few steps were like drowning in invisible water...but as the Fel pushed forward he almost forgot about the aroma altogether. As quickly as he'd reeled against it he found himself leaning into it - a smile creasing his lips as the smell sent a warm caresse to the ends of every nerve. He felt his chest tighten and the warmth spread to more unseen areas.
By the time he reached the desk he wanted nothing more than to speak to the beautiful creature behind the counter. Unprovoked images of a more intimate setting flooded his mind but he managed to give her a polite bow without seeming entirely entranced by her.
"Welcome to Nebula Tower" her voice was like a velvet sheet and Maxin felt his heart swoon, "would you be staying with us this evening?"
Every word brought him closer to her and for a second he thought about saying something, anything to make her happy.
"I would uh...yes. Yes of course, a room. I have a reservation for 22D."
He tried to keep himself focused but he kept wanting to think about where a good first date would be.
"Oh yes! Of course, Mr. Fel I just saw your name in the system. Let me grab the access card" he watched her spin on heel and watched as his eyes scanned her form. He pulled himself away from it and cursed himself for a moment before watching her hands slide open a drawer and take a silver card from a row of several. Before he had a chance to scan the cards the receptionist closed the drawer again and he cursed himself again. He'd chance to grab the key card he'd really wanted.
Spinning enthusiastically the receptionist handed Maxin his card and they exchanged a quick set of pleasantries. When the plans for his crew to bring his luggage were made and the two exchanged good-byes, Maxin paused and leaned into the desk.
"Say...you would happen to-
"-To be doing anything later?" She finished his thought with a short giggle, "I think you'll feel better when you are in your room"
Then all at once...it hit him and he felt the embarrassment replace the trance. The floral scents were more than just a fragrance...they were laced with the receptionists pheromones. Zeltron were nothing if not perfect customer service choices.
"Oh...yeah...you're probably right" he said, taking his card and going towards the door indicated as the elevator. The trance would wear off by the time he got upstairs...the embarrassment was another story.
Hopefully he just felt good enough to get back on track with his true reasons for being on Zeltros.
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Maxin Fel
Member
Posts: 13
Affiliation: First Order [Fel Imperium]
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Post by Maxin Fel on Oct 18, 2020 13:17:24 GMT -8
Zeltros City Maxin's Hotel Room
The receptionist had been right - no sooner had his door slid closed then did his mind fully right itself. Taking his face into his hands he sighed deeply and rubbed his palms against his eyes. The Zeltron pheromones were a problem he'd considered, but never having encountered its effects personally had left him at a disadvantage over what to do about it. If the hotel was using their species' pheromones traits to their advantage he could only imagine what a casino would be doing to invite gamblers. If it weren't so integral to the success of his planning he'd opt to avoid casinos all together. After a moment Maxin finally let his hands relax down to his sides and allowed himself tovpeak around the room. Unlike the colorful pearl-like interior of the rest of the hotel - the room was a much softer white that was much softer on the eyes. The floors were of plush carpet and dark wood and a large window, which itself was cut into hexagonal panels, took up the entire far wall. The Fel followed the daggers of light cutting through the window from the outside and traced his eyes over to a small bar set into the wall and an open refresher door not far beside it. For the few thousand credits a night the room cost he was glad to see it was spacious. But the space was not the real reason he'd chosen this room. Striding purposefully across the room Maxin entered the refresher and closed the door behind him. It was, much like the room, spacious and impressive but again this was not his purpose. His purpose was the second door across from the first- one guarded by a keypad much like the one he'd used to enter his own room. He cursed himself once again for having not gotten the key and downstairs but pushed the thought aside. Turning on the shower, just in case, Maxin moved to the door and placed a flat palm against it. He closed his eyes...extended himself into the metal...felt his mind move first to the gears beneath. Then to wiring...followed them into the frame and felt the clamps hidden in the wall. He focused on them and his brow furrowed. There was a rattling just beyond the door...a grind and then a click as he moved the door to action. Just as if he had used the keycard the door slide aside at the cost a headache near the top of his cranium. It wasn't much of a loss not getting the keycard, but he'd rather not been forced to lock and unlock the door this way every time. Maxin walked into the vacant room next door and was pleased to find that the window to the outside was already blacked out. He'd chosen his room specifically because it was joined with another - more specifically it was joined with a room that was reserved for a guest just a few days after his arrival. Therefore there was only a three day slot between the arrival of the reservation and the departure of the last. Few people who could afford this type of luxury hotel would want to stay for such a short time. It almost guaranteed him the room for at least today and more importantly it guaranteed him use of its in home terminal. The Nebula Hotel offered complimentary holonet access via in room terminals. Maxin wasn't sure he'd been followed to Zeltros. Wasnt positive anyone was watching him at all truth be told. But if they were or someone wanted to one day look back at him, he wanted to separate himself from the problem. As of now the First Order likely had little to no intelligence infrastructure set up on Zeltros and if he was at all being monitored they wouldn't go through enough trouble to tap an entire hotel on such short notice. Such a thing was probably impossible anyway but he wasn't taking chances. No personal devices. No terminals he had official access to. The less digital footprint he left the better. Who knew what Imperial Intelligence was capable of. And after all, treason wasn't something he felt was smart to take lightly. Quickly he moved to the terminal and accessed the holonet. He already knew exactly what he needed and first things were first. He searched the net for local dried, scrap and junk dealers. As the first set of holopages cropped up on the terminal, Maxin reached into his pocket and materialized from it a stack of gold and silver credit ingots and, resting atop the stack, was a single glowing card - a credit chit. When his father's assets had begun being liquadized Maxin already knew he'd need off the books money. So instead of having all his assets liquadized into his open accounts he made sure to have thousands transferred into physical ingots. Most of them he deposited into vaults for appearances- but what he hadn't came with him or was used to pay for the credit chit he had with him now. Unlike his personal credit chip, which pulled directly from his account in first order space, the chit could never hold as much as his chip could - a few million compared to the billions any account could hold. But unlike a chip it didn't pull from an open account - it pulled only from the data stored on it. In other words it was like a tiny personal bank that if paid for with physical ingots was impossible to trace. He would have to refill it in person, which was not an option for him and the main reason chip's never caught on like chips...but it didn't matter. They were perfect for his purposes here and now andd it didn't take long for him to compile a list of items he was looking for. An antique Droid shop in downtown Zeltros City had two Neimodian mechno-chairs going for 150,000 credits. A verpine mechanist on Roche was willing to build two floating holopads from scratch for 30,000 and a junk shop on Corellia had a few protocol druids they were willing to ship for only a few thousand. He paused to turncoff the shower and make an appearance in his room just in case, but returned for a fake bathroom break. 188,000 deep into his credit chit and he still had enough left over to buy three used HX-290 freighters and a used YT-1300. An hour into his spree he had transferred the credits to the prospective sellers and had used all but a few hundred credits of his chit. He could have paid for shipping on the Droids or a delivery pilot for the ships but that was out of the question. He needed the last few hundred credits for an old floating holorecorder and the time itd take to link it with with the chairs. Luckily the chairs were of little concern. The shop had given him a comm code to remotely access the systems of each and send them where he needed them. The ships and other droids would be an issue to solve later. Just as he was getting ready to research his options he heard a knock. He paused and listened...it came again. Thats when he realized it wasn't on the door to this room it was on his. Quickly he shut off the terminal and ran back into his refresher - nearly forgetting to flush the toilet before taking a quick calming breath and exiting. When he opened the door he was met by a crisp salute in a black uniform. " General Fel, I brought your luggage as instructed" the junior officer dropped his hand and picked up the two maglocked containers on the floor. " Ah perfect" Maxin said, stepping aside to allow him in, " I was just about ready to head out for the night"
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2020 12:22:31 GMT -8
Within the darkness of Q.T.'s Club, where the sole source of illumination radiated from the black lights and the occasional, spiraling colors, Zel had set long ago. Time had no place here and was but a construct of mortal imagination. Here, there was only the throbbing music, which rattled one's soul with the heavy, thrumming bass and drowning out all comprehensible thought. If that wasn't enough for the club's patrons, the pheromones that wafted through the air and swelled through one's being with every breath was sure to make its party-goers drunk with careless pleasure.
Little did any of them know or care that Zel had only just begun her descent. Their night was just beginning, a blessing the goddesses, gods, or the Force, whatever one believed in. Not that it truly mattered. All who stepped foot onto Zeltros were overwhelmed by her beauty, losing their religion, and finding a new source of salvation.
The floor was crowded with those from many walks of life, the native's reddish tones a vast majority to polychromatic sea. Scattered about them were stages, where the daring and the professionals shared the attention together with glee. Usually, there was one individual who stole the spotlight. Instead, the silver-haired maiden sat at the bar, looking over a datapad with such detail, it was as though her environment had no effect on her.
The Scarlet Arya -- Angel hadn't bothered to frequent there in many years. All she knew was that many of these newer cantinas and clubs had risen up over the ages, leaving the 'old' ones to fend for themselves. In all her networking, it was a rare occasion when the Scarlet Arya was trending. That usually spelled out an ill omen and an uneventful night. Anyone who was anyone spent their time chasing a high, and the HoloNet had already crowned its queens. Angel was undoubtedly going to have her work cut out for her...
A pink hand, pushing an exotic drink across the bar, snapped her attention back. Angel glanced up and smiled at the male bartender. Fit and charismatic, Brendin winked as he leaned across the bar, folding his arms to support his frame.
"It's on the house... as usual."
Angel returned his generosity with a smile and a knowing glimmer in her eyes. She was a usual here and known by name -- well, a persona. In these clubs, though, Karma was just as real, if not more so, than Angel. Daintily taking the glass, Angel winked back at Brendin before taking a long sip. Lighter, sweeter notes were quick to overwhelm her tastebuds as a spicy, tingling aftertaste breathed life back into her. It was unexpected, but enough to make her laugh lightly yet suddenly. Bringing the back of her hand to her lips, she turned away as if coyly feigning an attempt at holding the surprising bite to her drink.
"Now, now. Can't even keep down your favorite drink, Karma?" Brendin joked, grabbing a glass to buff while chatting. "Something must be seriously up."
Angel waved her free hand at him until she had finished swallowing. With a dramatic breath in, she raised her crystalline gaze to the ceiling as if attempting to compose herself. She then glanced down at Brendin and huffed a sigh, although a grateful, adorable smile was now painted on her lips.
"Just family drama, hon," she explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Never hear from them until they want something, and then I'm suddenly a miracle worker."
"Oh? Maybe I should keep your pad behind the bar for the rest of the night then. You have loyal fans right here, as they always have been, waiting for your 'miracles' every night."
Teasingly, the man grabbed for her datapad and slid it closer to his side of the bar. Angel gave him a playful, challenging look back as she took hold of it with both hands and pulled back to her side.
"Mm, well, maybe if your boss started paying me for my stage time, I would be up there at her every beck and call, rather than drowning myself in my datapad and your artisan drinks."
"Oh, and since when were my 'artisan drinks,' charming company, and sound advice not payment enough?"
Scrunching her nose, Angel pursed her lips to make a face at him. Truth be told, they both knew that the work Angel put in. Keeping this place alive was more than any drink could pay for. The rise of some cult had sparked a lingering fear in natives and tourists alike. Angel had to work more than a few connections, including herself, to ensure that this club, and others, remained packed every day and night. From her daughter reworking security details to take the pressure off the bouncers to obscure 'royal' connections, Angel had easily carved a life of luxury for herself over the decades. Still, having his company when she made her rounds here was a pleasure she wouldn't easily dismiss.
"Point taken."
Sweeping herself off the barstool, Angel stood tall onto her bright heels of reflective silver. With an eye roll, she hummed another sigh before relinquishing her datapad over to him.
"I suppose your right. No sense worrying about them when I have my true family right here," she conceded with a knowing smile. "Keep it safe for me then until I come back for another one of these, will you?"
Dangling the glass up, Angel showed off the colorful drink before downing the rest of it with an odd dash of elegance and allure. Once she set the glass down, she offered Brendin another wink and thankful smile before giving him the bittersweet view of her departing figure -- the hypnotic swing of her hips as she made her way towards the dance floor. Tomorrow, Angel would have her work cut out for her, but tonight, she would live for the pleasure of the moment.
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Tarfang
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Making stormtrooper stew...yum!
Posts: 73
Affiliation: Bespin Blood Pirates
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Post by Tarfang on Mar 18, 2022 9:32:44 GMT -8
By the time the Crusader landed at the space port in Zeltros City, Tarfang was more than a little tipsy. He upended the bladder skin he had been drinking from only to find it bone dry. Scowling, he tossed the the empty container into the back of the X-34 parked in the gunship's hangar. 'Keep it together', he thought to himself. He didn't like to be this way, especially not when others noticed, but being this close to his revenge was dredging up old memories and bitter feelings. Maybe some fresh air would help clear his head. When the boarding ramp lowered, the elderly ewok swaggered to its edge, resting both paws on his felucian cherrywood cane. He peered out at the city with his good eye, the other empty socket obscured by a worn patch of leather. He rubbed at the old phantom itch as he saw the night lights and heard the sounds of a world at celebration that never seemed to end.
When Mal came to join him, Tarfang turned and pointed at the city with his cane. "There are a couple cantinas and nightclubs in the area, although I'm not sure which ones have underworld connections." He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Maybe all of them, maybe not. Either way, we've a few choices to pick from."
The Zesty Zeltron, the Slutty Sarlacc, the Drunken Rancor...take your pick, there was a bar for every perversion and niche.
"We should take my speeder. You know, in case you make any new...friends." The last word lingered for a moment, obviously referring to their last cantina getaway.
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Mal Drynlann
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Posts: 132
Affiliation: Mandalorian (clan destroyed)
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Post by Mal Drynlann on Mar 19, 2022 18:59:14 GMT -8
Mal stepped down the ramp while slipping his helmet on. His armor was back to it's standard configuration, and the bright, flashing neon lights of the strange, party-planet reflected off of his armor's silver portions. He looked out at the city. Mal hates cities. Way too crowded and cramped. It reminded him of when he was a slave, and his family and all the other slaves had to share bunks, all living on top of one another. Why anyone would want to live that way of their own free will was beyond his understanding. The mando smirked at Tarfang's reference.
"Heh. Don't worry I'll try not to blast everyone we come across." He noticed the old ewok had finished the wampa milk. "Hm... Maybe I should drive."
He hopped into the driver seat, and Tarfang followed. The speeder popped and clanked as Mal revved the engine and they zipped off into the city, leaving a metal part spinning in place of where the speeder used to be. Behind them, the ramp to the ship closed with IG inside, brandishing his blaster rifles. The droid remained ever vigilant.
Mal slowed the speeder down as they came to the more active part of the city. They slowly passed by multiple nightclubs and cantinas, looking for any that might seem like they held a wealth of information. Though truth be told, Mal didn't even know what they were looking for, just that they would probably know when they found it. Races of all kinds gathered here, Mal could see zeltron women dancing, and noticed a devaronian stumble out of one bar and vomited right as they passed by him. Mal made a look of disgust from behind his helmet and kept it moving. Flashing neon lights and strobe lights of all colors covered every surface of the city. Loud, heavy bass could be heard coming from the music of the nightclubs from a mile away.
"Ah! Perfect." Mal brought the speeder to a halt in front of a nightclub called "The Half-Cocked Ewok." He vaulted out of the speeder. "This place seems like it's more your speed, Cap." The nightclub's music could be heard from outside in a muffled form. Mal approached the bouncer at the front door who happened to be a Gamorrean, unarmored but wearing a leather jacket with spikes coming out of the shoulders. The gamorrean stood with his arms crossed and looked at Mal up and down, then stepped aside, letting them through.
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Tarfang
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Making stormtrooper stew...yum!
Posts: 73
Affiliation: Bespin Blood Pirates
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Post by Tarfang on Mar 21, 2022 10:51:30 GMT -8
The Half Cocked Ewok? Well, Mal's jesting aside, this was as good a place as any to try to dig up some information.
Tarfang let out a whistle as they strolled past the burly gamorrean bouncer on door duty. Traveling in the company of a mandalorian had its advantages. Ordinarily the elderly captain would have had to slip the pig-man a handful of credits. Now he had more in his pocket to spend on booze. But first...Kaine.
"We should split up inside and meet over at the bar once we've had a chance to talk to a few of the locals. Someone here has to know something."
His good eye was already focused on a bug-eyed rodian on the second floor landing overlooking the dance floor. The green skinned alien was leaning on the railing, appearing to be keeping tabs on everything going on inside. Occasionally a thuggish looking alien of wide varieties would approach the rodian and exchange words, along with credits and a small pouch of something. Spice dealer, he thought. Now the question was whether or not he could be persuaded to deal in information. Without waiting to see if Mal would agree, Tarfang waddled forwards and vanished from sight shortly after crossing the dance floor.
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Mal Drynlann
Member
Posts: 132
Affiliation: Mandalorian (clan destroyed)
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Mal Drynlann on Mar 22, 2022 21:07:29 GMT -8
Mal watched as Tarfang disappeared into the crowd. Might as well start with a drink he thought. Now the nightclub had two floors, and had a bar on both of them with a glass staircase connecting them. Matter of fact, the floor itself seemed to be made of glass. Hell, the more Mal looked around the more he realized the whole damn place was made of glass. The mandalorian made his way towards the stairs, passing by all kinds of people. A Zeltron woman caresses her fingers across Mal's pauldron, trying to get his attention, he ignores it and continues walking up the stairs. He approaches the bar and waves down the bartender. Mal had to shout over the loud music to get his order across, but the bartender made out what he said, and soon he returned with the requested drink. Mal removed his helmet, and he set it on top of the bar as his jet black hair settled into a messy position. After taking a sip and placing the cup back down on the table, a gwerp hopped on top of the bar right next to Mal. Mal glanced at the strange frog-like creature, shrugged, and went back to drinking. The creature hopped over and attempted to take a lick out of Mal's drink with it's very long tongue. Mal quickly slid his drink away with one hand and shooed the gwerp with the other. He pushed a little too hard though, and the little critter fell off the bar top. Mal once again, shrugged and continued drinking. He leaned in to shout over to the bartender again."I'm looking for someone, maybe you can help me?" He slid a credit chit into the bartender's hand."What you wanna know?" "What do you know about a guy named Kaine?"A grim face washed over the bartender's face. He was about to say something, then his eyes looked over Mal's shoulder, and he went completely silent. A big, meaty hand grabbed Mal by the shoulder and turned him around. Mal was met with a tall, burly twi'lek male who had fury in his eyes."That was my gwerp you pushed off the bar..." Mal shrugged and sipped his drink again before placing it on the bar and turning to face the twi'lek completely."Won't happen again.""That Gwerp's been coming here for years. You ain't got the right." The Twi'lek grabbed Mal's drink off the bar, and chugged what was left of it. As the glass left his lips, he gave a crooked smile. Mal briefly returned the smile, then grabbed the twi'lek's hand that held the glass, and crushed it. The glass shattered in the twi'lek's palm, and blood came forth dripping onto the glass floor. The twi'lek gave a blood curdling wail and dropped to his knees, grabbing Mal's hand trying to get him to let go. But Mal's crushgaunts only tightened, breaking the twi'lek's fingers. It was at this time that the twi'lek's buddies showed up, and one of them gave Mal a right hook to the jaw. The mando stumbled back into the bar, and slipped his hand behind it, grabbing a large bottle. One of the goons tried grabbing Mal but was met with glass shattering on top of his head. Another one came at the mandalorian with a right hook, it was dodged and countered with a gut punch. Mal then grabbed him and gave him a headbutt before throwing him into the shelf full of bottles behind the bar. Another two goons grabbed both of Mal's arms from behind, trying to restrain him. Mal struggled for a bit, then put his feet up on the bar and gave a violent war cry."GGGRRRRAAAAHHHHHH!!!" He pushed off the bar with all the power his legs could give, launching himself and the two bruisers restraining him through the waist-high glass railing of the second floor. Shards of glass splintered the air as the the mando and his opponents all fell onto the dance floor on the first floor...
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Tarfang
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Making stormtrooper stew...yum!
Posts: 73
Affiliation: Bespin Blood Pirates
Traffic Light: Blue
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Post by Tarfang on Mar 30, 2022 8:00:05 GMT -8
Despite all the bright neon lights and the overall jovial mood of celebration, Tarfang knew a hive of scum and villainy when he smelled one. You could glitz it up until the hawkbats came home to roost, but the criminal underworld still left its mark, unseen by most though it may be. Mind you, that wasn't a criticism per say, just something he had noticed. It would be highly hypocritical of the elderly ewok to think on such business with disdain after spending a lifetime among said seedy population, let alone making his fortune through it.After a brief exchange of words and an even more discreet exchange of credits, the rodian was singing like a jailhouse bird."...made his way through these parts not too long ago with a bunch of his armed soldiers. Turned the underworld upside down, made it illegal to sell spice to kids, if you can believe it.""So he's not here anymore?" Asked Tarfang with a disappointed frown."Nah. He said his piece, laid down the law, then left. Listen 'Fang, if you wanna find this guy, you are gunna have to draw him out. They called themselves an Imperium, an Inner Rim Imperium. They got ships, soldiers, lots and lots of weapons. This is not a guy you are gunna sneak up on.""GGGRRRRAAAAHHHHHH!!!" He pushed off the bar with all the power his legs could give, launching himself and the two bruisers restraining him through the waist-high glass railing of the second floor. Shards of glass splintered the air as the the mando and his opponents all fell onto the dance floor on the first floor... The noise drew the attention of just about everyone in the club. Even Tarfang who already surmised the reason for it turned his head to look back over his shoulder. Trouble seemed to follow Mal like a hungry mynock after a pair of exposed power cables. In front of him, the rodian stood up to get a better look as Mal smashed into the dance floor."What in the nine hells of Nkllon is going on over there?" Asked the rodian spice dealer, scratching his head antenna."That'll be my friend." Replied Tarfang with a shrug. "He's a Mandalorian. I think that's just how they blow off steam." Looking bewildered, the rodian shook his head and pointed one finger sucker at the chaos erupting down below."Shouldn't you see if he needs help?"Shaking his head. "No, don't be silly. He does this sort all the time. Anyways, you were saying about Kaine?" "Uhh, right. You are going to need to draw him out. I think the Australis' are based off of Myrkr, but it's not exactly friendly territory. You are better off hitting one of the other Inner Rim worlds and send him a message. He'll come. He's just like your buddy down there. If there is a fight to be had, he'll be the first one in line.""Thanks for the advice." He dropped another credit chit on the table between them and got up, waddling to the shattered glass railing overlooking the dance floor. With a sigh, Tarfang tucked his cane under his right arm and leapt from the broken railing, flinging his furry body at one of the two goons on Mal. He caught one by the head-tails and swung, the force of his momentum spinning the alien around and sending the goon careening into a mean looking karkarodon with way too many teeth. The shark faced patron of the club snarled and sunk his jaws into the goon's left arm and ripped it out of its socket with a wet ripping squelch. Blood sprayed across the dance floor and screams of panic erupted as chaos took hold.
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Post by Makena Artsruni on May 25, 2022 10:21:35 GMT -8
Throngs of cheering citizens and reporters armed with holocams are on hand when Enitan and Makena, the former King and Queen of Zeltros disembark from their SoroSuub Corporation Personal Luxury Yacht 3000, the Raissa, after it sets down one of the Royal Palace's landing pads to be greeted by Zeltros' current ruling monarch, King Dorji, as though the three are the oldest and dearest of friends; the scene one that was planned out in advance and which is but one more act in the play the three principal players have arranged for the people of Zeltros. Act one had been played out before Enitan and Makena's arrival when Dorji had announced their impending return, explaining that their decades long exile and the coup he led and which had led to it had all been a well meaning ruse constructed to conceal the Queen's mysterious and almost certainly fatal illness from her people to spare them the grief of watching her suffer and die, the make believe exile itself, so the story went, a cover for Enitan's search throughout the universe for a cure. Dorji had revealed the truth, that was in fact a pretty lie, to the people of Zeltros upon allegedly learning that Enitan had found the cure to his beloved Queen's illness, another pretty lie to cover the less attractive truth that he himself had simply grown weary of ruling, and that the former King and Queen were returning to take up their duties for their people once more, which was true from a certain point of view given that both Enitan and Makena truly do want to serve the people of Zeltros as they had in the past.
Dorji, once the trio ascend the stairs leading to the palace entrance, flanked by palace guardsman in their stylish decorative armor, is the first to speak, enthusiastically welcoming Enitan and Makena, who does her best to look frail as befits her part in the play, back to Zeltros to loud applause and cheering, and then announcing he will step down from the throne he, so the official story goes, assumed only to spare the people of Zeltros any unpleasantness or grief, and that Enitan and Makena will be restored to their former status of King and Queen of Zeltros.
Enitan speaks next, heralding Dorji as a selfless hero who will be rewarded by being permitted to retire from service to enjoy his remaining years in his estate in the Northern Province, a much happier ending than the one that might have been necessitated were the actual, rather than fabricated and far more pleasant, truth known. Enitan then expresses, entirely truthfully, his own and Makena's desire to return to their work as Zeltros' rulers, and their equally sincere dedication to fulfilling their duties to the utmost of their abilities. Concluding his address to the people of Zeltros by adding a generous dollop of eloquent and enthusiastic praise for the recently signed IRI treaty, Enitan vows that he will do all he can to see that the treaty's promise of a new era of unprecedented cooperation, peace and prosperity for all the member worlds, including Zeltros, is fulfilled.
Concluding his address by announcing the commencement of a week long planetary celebration of all that has been transpired, King Enitan had waved picturesquely along with his Queen for the cheering citizens, who never need much incentive to celebrate and welcome the chance to do so now eagerly and vociferously, and for the holocams recording the event for those citizens of Zeltros who viewed the joyous occasion from the comforts of their homes, before entering the palace with his arms linked in those of Makena and Dorji so that they could mix and mingle with the heads of various departments, military and political offices, and representative of the artistic, wealthy and elite citizens of Zeltros that are all awaiting them inside as the celebrations around Zeltros begin.
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Post by Makena Artsruni on May 30, 2022 3:36:30 GMT -8
Royal Palace
In the sumptuous, tastefully decorated living area of their quarters, Makena moans in delight as Iraja massages her shoulders, the female Twi'lek's expert fingers coaxing any knots or tension from her limbs that three days of nigh constant celebrating with little to no rest in between has left her with. Looking over to where Enitan is sitting on a couch with a focused expression as he reads from a datapad, Makena playfully teases him, "You look far too serious. We have a bit more time to celebrate before returning to our duties after all, love."
Enitan, resting the datapad on the arm of the couch with an amused expression, points to the datapad Makena is reading from as Iraja massages her, "What's that you're reading there, dearest?"
Makena, looking guilty, tries to lie, "Erotica?"
Enitan laughs, shaking his head as he ventures a guess, "Budget reports? Probably education and the arts?"
Makena smiles as she nods, "Guilty as charged. I see no reason we can't get up to speed as opportunities to do so present themselves, and see you feel the same. What are you reading, love?"
Enitan taps the datapad absently on the arm of the couch, "Intelligence reports concerning a rather alarming domestic terrorism incident. A cult led by a Dark Side chap that took advantage of our people's cultural appreciation of the pleasures in life and the naivete that we can all be guilty of at times. Frowning, he continues, Scary stuff. Seems to have fizzled out on it's own after it went from a bit of fun to more dangerous. The chap appears to have forgotten that our culture and biology don't agree well with prolonged unpleasantness. Still, makes me wonder what we might do to prevent similar things from happening going forward. A pity the Jedi no longer have Watchmen, Be useful to have one about if any other Dark Side lads or lassies thought they'd try something similar."
Makena nods, then says, "Well, there is always Thalassa and Berengar, no? Oh, I know they've retired, but perhaps they'd have some suggestions?"
Enitan bobbles his head from side to side, "Maybe, dearest. I'll think about it, maybe reach out to them. Standing and stretching he walks over and takes the datapad from Makena, Enough of this for tonight I think. Come to bed when you've finished your massage, we'll need our rest for the celebrating tomorrow."
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Post by Makena Artsruni on Jun 7, 2022 12:24:11 GMT -8
Royal PalaceDiscussing business over dinner is really no fun at all, and so when Berengar Crist and Thalassa Drakos visit them at the palace, Makena and Enitan do not bring up the business they had invited their old friends to the palace to speak of until after the meal and dessert have been finished at a leisurely pace while they all reacquainted themselves with one another after the time they have spent apart.
After-dinner drinks having been served by Enitan's newest additions to his collection of rare and antique droids, the twin BD-3000 luxury droids Diki and Erhi, Enitan broaches the subject of the domestic terrorism incident involving a Dark Side cult leader that had led him to invite Berengar, a former Jedi Investigator, to the palace to discuss how such incidents might be prevented in the future. Berengar, having been retired from his occupation for over 30 years now, has only a few suggestions for Enitan, given that the possibility of such an incident occurring again on Zeltros seems remote at best.
Makena, who knows that Thalassa, a former Sith, would prefer that her and Berengar's retirement not be interrupted with business such as that which has brought them here today, does her best to reassure her old friend that, agreeing with Berengar's assessment that it is unlikely Zeltros would face any similar threats in the future, she needn't worry about the possibility asking for advice might lead to requesting aid should any similar threats ever come to pass after all. From the somewhat incredulous expression on Thalassa's face, Makena gathers that her reassurance may not have been believed for one reason or another.
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Mal Drynlann
Member
Posts: 132
Affiliation: Mandalorian (clan destroyed)
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Mal Drynlann on Dec 3, 2022 8:30:53 GMT -8
"Thanks for the advice." He dropped another credit chit on the table between them and got up, waddling to the shattered glass railing overlooking the dance floor. With a sigh, Tarfang tucked his cane under his right arm and leapt from the broken railing, flinging his furry body at one of the two goons on Mal. He caught one by the head-tails and swung, the force of his momentum spinning the alien around and sending the goon careening into a mean looking karkarodon with way too many teeth. The shark faced patron of the club snarled and sunk his jaws into the goon's left arm and ripped it out of its socket with a wet ripping squelch. Blood sprayed across the dance floor and screams of panic erupted as chaos took hold. Mal was dizzy for a while, completely disoriented while he laid on the ground. His vision was blurred but he could just barely make out the two figures he had pulled down with him, getting up before him and hovering over his body. No doubt they were about to return the favor in kind. The warrior tried to move his arms and legs but they wouldn't respond, and he groaned with crushing disappointment. "Time for a good beating." He thought to himself, when seemingly out of nowhere a third, smaller blurry figure appeared on top of the head of one of the others. Mal's vision began to come into focus just in time to see the karkarodon bite off his friends arm. As soon as he was able, Mal struggled to get himself to his feet. He stumbled for a moment, then regained his balance and stomped with heavy purpose towards the karkarodon. Two streams of blood had appeared on Mal's face from the beating he endured so far. One trickled down his brow, the other came from his lip and dripped off his chin. He didn't care, and pressed on towards the shark-man who spat out his friend's arm and with his deep, black eyes gave the mando a look of surprise and fear.Mal grabbed the karkarodon by the belt with one hand and grabbed the shark's lower jaw with the other, and hoisted his enemy up over his head. Panicking, the shark-man chomped down as hard as he could onto the mando's hand that was already in his mouth only to find his teeth shattered into a thousand pieces against Mal's beskar crushgaunts. The karkarodon gave a strange and unsettling shriek of pain. "You're lucky I'm not gonna squeeze." Mal thought right before he threw his enemy into a nearby vacant booth. The table splintered into pieces under the force of the shark's body, it made for a suitable bed as the thug had gone to sleep."ALRIGHT THAT'S ENOUGH." A loud voice barked from behind. Mal spun around to be met with four huge bouncers hovering over both him and Tarfang.
"Blast, look at this place. its a bloodbath!" Mal looked at his surroundings and only just now did he notice the amount of blood that both he, and the floor was covered in.
"ARE THE TWO A' YOU GONNA MURDAH THE WHOLE CLUB?! I DON'T THINK SO. THE BOTH A' YOU ARE LEAVIN. NOW." The bouncers wasted no time and placed heavy hands on Mal's shoulders, and began roughly pushing the mando towards the exit. Mal didn't need anymore trouble, he gave Tarfang a glance and reluctantly allowed the bouncers to take him away.
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Post by Makena Artsruni on Apr 4, 2023 22:12:52 GMT -8
Royal Palace
Makena is, with Iraja'ani's help, going over the arrangements for the farewell banquet to be held on the morrow for the IRI Protectors and Mandalorians that had come to Zeltros to help the planet's law enforcement with anti-criminal operations when Enitan enters their study and sits on the edge of the desk Makena and their Twi'lek aide, accountant, and, among other things, pilot, are working on, a datapad in one hand and an ornate pipe in the other.
"You simply must try this, dearest Enitan tells Makena, handing her the pipe, exquisitely sculpted in the shape of a reclining nude woman, as he tosses the datapad to Iraja'ani and asks, What do you make of that?"
Makena draws on the pipe, holding the fragrant smoke in her lungs for a moment before exhaling it in a satisfied sigh, smiling as she feels a pleasant wave of euphoria washing through her, "Oh, that is absolutely lovely."
"Isn't it just! Ossus Kush, Enitan explains as Makena passes the pipe to Iraja'ani, Nkosana sent it with his regards."
Makena smiles at the mention of their smuggler friend, a connoisseur of spice and other recreational narcotics, "Of course he did. How are dear Nkosana and his shipmates? Can we expect to see them anytime soon?"
Enitan, accepting the pipe as Iraja'ani passes it to him, says, "Not in the immediate future. They are currently employed in a venture, quite protracted from the sound of it, involving moving mysterious things about for an equally mysterious someone. What, he looks up to the ceiling and lazily blows a trio of smoke rings upwards, are you two working on, anything fun?"
Iraja'ani, reclining more comfortably in her armchair as she drapes one of her purple hued lekku around the front of her neck, tosses the datapad back to Enitan as she says, "Something related to that, in fact, Sire, the that referring to the budget request accompanied by a sreport detailing the drops in the rates of various types of criminal activity he had asked her to look over, and then explains, A farewell banquet for the IRI Protectors and Mandalorians. With the results, she motions to the report Enitan had passed to her, of their assistance to our law enforcement agencies so plain to see, everyone seems to agree that, as they've also trained and consulted with our law enforcement agencies extensively while they've been here, the time has come for them to focus their attention elsewhere, secure in the knowledge that our . . ."
Waving a hand to let Iraja’ani know he has the gist of things, and then passing the pipe to Makena, Enitan says cheerfully, "Marvelous! When is this banquet to be held?"
Makena, passing the pipe to Iraja'ani after drawing on it, exhales the smoke she had been holding in as she says, "Tomorrow, love, waving a hand over the desk and the dataterminal sitting upon it as she explains, That is what we've been working on, hence how what we've been doing relates to what you've been reading."
Enitan smiles as he exclaims, "Well, that's quite grand, isn't it, dearest! Accepting the pipe as Iraja'ani passes it to him , Enitan asks, Is there anything I need to know, or can help with?"
Makena shakes her head and says, "No, love, we have everything in hand. All you need worry yourself about is what you'll wear."
Iraja'ani, making things even easier for Zeltros' King, says, "I'll lay something out appropriate for the occasion for you, Sire."
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Post by Makena Artsruni on Apr 25, 2023 13:02:59 GMT -8
Royal Palace
The farewell party for the IRI Protectors and Mandalorians has been underway for hours, and still shows little to no signs of slowing down when Thalassa finds Berengar leaning against the railing of a balcony looking down on the large, ornate dining and banquet hall where the King and Queen are entertaining their lively guests.
Rubbing Berengar's back, Thalassa says in a playfully accusatory tone, "You're brooding. I am quite certain there is a law against that here on Zeltros."
Standing up and putting an arm around Thalassa's waist, Berengar summons an unconvincing smile as he glances at a nearby Palace Guard and says in a stage whisper, "Not so loud, I think they haven't noticed my crime yet."
Smiling and arching an eyebrow, Thalassa says in a mildly irritated yet somehow still affectionate tone, "You may as well just get it out of your system and tell me now. If it has anything to do with Enitan asking . . ."
Shaking his head and stroking his grey beard, Berengar says, "No, no, the King would never dream of going against your wishes. It's something I learned from one of the Mandalorians, then pauses before adding, that, and something Iraja'ani shared with me."
"Oh, Thalassa quips teasingly, that makes everything so very clear, and then as she knows Berengar well enough to know that she will need to prompt him along if she wants to learn the specifics of what he has learned that has troubled him, asks with a theatrical sigh, What is it that you have somehow managed to learn that had you brooding up here alone while literally everyone else here in the palace is enjoying themselves?"
With only a bit more verbal prodding from Thalassa, Berengar shares what he had learned from a Mandalorian from clan Australis about an attack on Obroa-Skai, and then what Iraja had told him about a small group of Twi'lek refugees from Ryloth that sought asylum on Zeltros after narrowly escaping an invasion of their homeworld.
Thalassa asks, "You think the attacks are related somehow?"
Berengar rubs the bridge of nose, admitting, "I don't know. The attack on Obroa-Skai was preceded by a message from the hostile force that mentioned an all-seeing Eye, while by all accounts there was no such message accompanying the occupation of Ryloth. Even the nature of the attacks differed significantly, chemical attack in the one and a ravaging horde rampaging through the cities in the other. Both, on the other hand, were remarkably vicious . . ."
Thalassa nods, dryly observing, "Most planetary attacks and invasions are, and then mulls over what she has heard before guessing, It is the mention of the Eye that troubles you most, is it not?"
Berengar reaches over and taps the tip of Thalassa's nose, "Got it in one. I thought they'd . . . "
Thalassa lifts a finger to Berengar's lips to hush him, reminding him, "It isn't your problem anymore, we've retired from that life."
Smiling ruefully, Berengar nods, "We have, yes. I just feel as though I have a responsibility to tell someone, to warn them all of what it could mean if I am right. And, he sighs, I can't help thinking about that old adage about all that is needed for Darkness to win is for . . ."
Chuckling, not as troubled by conscience as the former Jedi, Thalassa suggests, "Tell the King. Let him be the one to decide what to do with it all."
Berengar smiles as he glances over at the former Sith, "You seem suspiciously delighted to burden the King with it, but it is not a bad idea, really."
Nodding, Thalassa agrees, "Oh, it's a brilliant idea. But, she pats his back affectionately, wait until after the party has ended. I'm quite sure there is a law against spoiling a party like this here on Zeltros."
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Post by Makena Artsruni on May 5, 2023 21:23:47 GMT -8
Royal Palace
Rubbing his left temple with one hand while raising the other to stop Enitan in the middle of what he is saying, Berengar patiently says, "I'm not asking you to go to war, sire."
Enitan laughs without humor, jumping back in before Berengar can go on further, "That's good, because I have no intention of asking my people to die in what would be a doomed effort to free Ryloth from its latest occupation. Make no mistake, that is exactly what they would do. I don't know if it is these Eye people you say might be behind the occupation, but I have heard what the refugees said about the invading force, and, frankly, it's disturbing. They have a caste of Force users, you see, the, um . . ."
"The Sesk'nabsilai, sire," Iraja'ani supplies the word Enitan was searching for.
"Right, the Sesk'nabsilai, thank you, Iraja dear, Enitan says and then continues, They are as well trained as any Jedi, and serve as guardians for the religious temples, and they weren't able to stand against the occupying force. Do you know why? Because there were some very powerful Darkside chaps leading the attacks. One Sesk'nabsilai was among the refugees that made it here, protecting a priestess from a Fire Temple, and she described sensing a very powerful, very evil presence. Waving a hand as though searching for the words to more adequately describe what the young Temple Guardian had said, Enitan settles for saying, Basically, think of all the scary words you can imagine that describe a terrifyingly malevolent and dauntingly formidable Dark Side Lord. Even if I were foolhardy enough to want to try and liberate Ryloth, and sought allies in the effort, who is there that could hope to stand against such a foe? The Jedi, as an Order, seem to have gone into retirement, and haven't taken any kind of organized action in the universe in years. The Corellian Coalition was destroyed by the First Order. The First Order might have the military might and enough skilled Force users available to liberate Ryloth, but I can't imagine them being inclined to do so. The IRI has no interest in affairs outside of the Inner Rim. Who does that leave? You? Forgive me for saying so, but you're well past your prime, old friend. Thalassa . . ."
Berengar, rubbing his bearded chin, interrupts Enitan once more to inform him, "Has no interest in what happens to Ryloth, I assure you."
Makena, seated beside Enitan, an arm draped over his shoulder, says without rancor, having known Thalassa long enough to understand that she little concern for anything other than enjoying her life with Berengar here on Zeltros, "That is hardly surprising. What is surprising is your sudden interest in events in the universe, Berengar. You continued to enjoy your retirement here on Zeltros, for instance, as the First Order rose and grew in power. What is different now?"
Before Berengar can reply, Enitan asks him, "Do you miss fighting the so-called good fight so much, after having left it behind for so long, is that it? Some kind of belated guilt for having abandoned your duties as a Jedi?"
Shaking his head, Berengar says, "I never said anything about fighting, sire. I simply asked that you warn . . ."
Enitan massages his forehead with a frown, not accustomed to dwelling on unpleasant topics any more than necessary and eager to end this particular conversation, "That is what you say, but be honest with yourself, old friend, you don't just want to warn others about the possibility your Eye people have returned, you want something to be done about them. And I am betting that if anything were to come of the warning, if someone out there were inclined to confront them, assuming it even is who you think it is, you would be lining up to join them."
Berengar hunches forward on the sofa across from the King and Queen, resting his elbows on his knees and propping his bearded chin atop his fists, "Maybe so. I fought them before, years and years ago on Corellia when they invaded the planet. . . "
Makena gently asks, "And that obligates you somehow to fight them now?"
Berengar shrugs, feeling torn between his desire to let his sense of obligation go now that he has voiced his concerns to Enitan and letting himself be drawn into any fight to free Ryloth from occupation should it come to that, "I honestly don't know. And, he sighs, it may not matter anyway, probably doesn't even. As Enitan said, there would seem to be no force in the universe either interested in freeing Ryloth or strong enough to do anything about it even if they were."
Smiling, relieved that Berengar seems to have come to his senses, Enitan says, "I know how you feel. It's a terrible situation. I wish something could be done, but, he lifts his hands, palms up, I don't see what can be done. I really don't. If it's any comfort to you, I am doing everything I can for the refugees that have come here. I am giving them homes, job opportunities. I am even hoping to bring an architect here to build a Temple for the Priestess that I mentioned."
Berengar nods, "That is very good of you, sire. Standing and offering the King and Queen a bow, he says, You'll let me know if anything comes of the warning?"
Arching an eyebrow, not liking the implication of Berengar's request, Enitan says without enthusiasm, "Of course, old friend, of course. Standing and clasping the former Jedi companionably on the shoulder, he says, Go home to Thalassa, jokingly adding, before she starts worrying that I've encouraged your charmingly idealistic nature."
Makena, rubbing the tension from Enitan's neck and shoulders after Berengar has taken his leave, asks in a concerned tone, "Do you think he'll let it go?"
Enitan nods, more hopefully than in confirmation, "I don't see that he has any other choice, really. Hopefully he will come to accept that nothing can be done and go back to enjoying his retirement."
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Elikapeka Hekekia
Mist Government
Posts: 184
Affiliation: Mist Government
Traffic Light: Orange
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Post by Elikapeka Hekekia on May 22, 2023 3:28:34 GMT -8
Royal Palace - Hangar
By the time Lucine has set the Prothoe down in the palace hangar the architect has managed to calm down slightly, having ceased fussing with her spectacles and sleeves and moved on to the fiddling with the figurine of Shiraya she wears on a thin silver chain around her neck, and mercifully not babbling for a change. Shutting down the Theta-class T-2c shuttle's engines and lowering its boarding ramp, Lucine stands and asks Hekekia, "Ready ma'am?"
Elika nods, putting her necklace back inside the neck of her blouse and taking a deep breath as she gets up and slings her backpack purse over her left shoulder, tugs her right sleeve and then her left down compulsively, and summons up the professional air beneath which she can usually conceal her anxiety when on a job, and says, "Ready," before following Lucine to the boarding ramp.
Lucine, more casually dressed than the architect in her pin striped suit, zips up the flight jacket she wears over a black turtleneck and pair of olive colored cargo pants as she and Hekekia walk down the boarding ramp to meet with the palace guardsmen they were told would be meeting them.
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Post by Makena Artsruni on May 25, 2023 15:23:33 GMT -8
Royal Palace
Flanked by a pair of female Palace Guards in their full ceremonial armor and accompanied by a BD-3000 luxury droid , Iraja'ani, a purple skinned Tyrian Twi'lek attired in a classy cut out one shoulder slit thigh dress that leaves very little to one's imagination, smiles and opens her slender arms in a welcoming gesture as Elikapeka and Lucine appear at the top of the shuttle's boarding ramp, telling them warmly, "Welcome to Zeltros, Miss Hekekia and Lieutenant Lyn! King Enitan and Queen Makena are so very excited that you have come, and look forward to beginning work on your project together. While she and Elikapeka have spoken together via holotransmitter in the course of discussing the design project that the King and Queen have hired the architect for, Iraja has not met Lieutenant Lyn, and so introduces herself, I am Iraja'ani, aide to King and Queen Makena. Motioning to the Guards, she introduces them next, Dayla and Gali from the Palace Guard, and then gestures to the BD-3000, wearing a long, black, hollow out halter wrap sleeveless pleated slit dress over its curvy frame, as she introduces her, And this is Erhi, whom the King and Queen wish to be at your disposal for the duration of your stay at the palace."
Motioning for Elikapeka and Lucine to follow her, Iraja says, "I will see that your belongings are brought to your rooms shortly. The King and Queen would like to give you an opportunity to relax and refresh yourselves after your journey before you meet to begin discussing your project together," Iraja explains as, with the guards and Erhi following behind Elikapeka and Lucine, she leads them from the hangar and to the adjoining suites that they will be staying in, selected so that Lieutenant Lyn can be near to the architect that she, as Iraja understands it, is assigned to protect. While the fact that an architect requires a personal guard is unusual, the King and Queen have instructed the palace staff to respect the arrangement, and have tasked Davla and Gali to discreetly stand guard over the visitors from Umgul as well to ensure that no harm comes to either while they are guests of the Royal Palace.
After showing Elikapeka and Lucine the features of their luxuriously appointed suites, each featuring decadent, sumptuous bathrooms and generous, relaxing living areas tastefully decorated with choice pieces of erotic art including paintings and statues selected from Enitan's personal collection, with Elikapeka's suite featuring a studio in which she can work, Iraja says, "Your belongings will be along presently, and then smiles as she says, If you need anything at all, simply let Erhi know, and she will see to it. Do either of you have any questions for me before I leave you to refresh yourselves?"
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