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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2015 12:14:19 GMT -8
Don let Sven push through the crowds, coming up behind him and smiling almost apologetically at the scowling faces as his cousin made a path.He was surveying the place not for threats - he was not as paranoid as his cousin - but for women. He wondered idly if Kareen was working tonight...maybe he could throw down with her again before he headed out. He would be exhausted in the morning, but if this trip was going to be as dangerous as Vee worried, he figured he'd get laid at least one more time, just in case. He sharply glanced to his left as Sven motioned to the table filled with mercs, nodding his understanding while he watched his cousin head off to the bar.Vee deserved to be with someone who would love her and care about her. Despite his hard exterior, Don knew that Sven would just the right pill. Truth be told, if he was being completely honest with himself, he had always had a thing for Vee...hell, he could even say he loved her. But he would never, ever admit it. He remembered the first time they met. They had been assigned to each other on her very first haul as captain. He had flown numerous times as both captain and co-pilot, and he knew they placed her with him to help her ease into the role under his watch.
He'd never forget the first time he saw her, tall, sleek and beautiful, hair shining like living fire and eyes that flashed like Muunilist's waters. He was never tongue tied, but she took the words right out of him. Don expected her to be a condescending, arrogant bitch like the other female pilots he'd flown with, trying to prove their authority to the crew by overdoing it. But she hadn't. She had been firm, tough, maybe a little too easy to upset, but never had a problem with suggestions. She really did care about the work and the crews. He had tried hitting on her a few times, but she always deflected, even his most charming lines. In truth, he didn't think she ever thought him a real option. By the time he realized how to reach her, he was already the reliable friend. He brushed it off as overt attraction due to working with her so often and in close quarters. Indeed, it was easy to see from the very first job that they meshed well together, and he never had a reason to ask for a different partner. But the more he got to know Vee, her walls eventually coming down as their friendship grew, he finally couldn't lie to himself anymore: he loved her.
It had been the strangest feeling in the world, realizing that. He had never loved any woman before. But he knew it was too late. And confessing his feelings to her now might ruin the friendship and working relationship they had. There was no way he was going to risk that. So he hid. Hid behind stupid jokes, boozing it up with women and one-liners, stepping out of the facade when it was necessary to be there for her, support her. Like now.
Despite the fact he knew he couldn't have her, he loved her enough that he would be happy as long as she was, even if it was with another man. Even if that man was Sven. Especially if that man was Sven. He knew if they hit it off, his cousin would treat her right. After all, if he couldn't care for Vee, Don would make sure he found the man who could. No one was going to get to her without his approval, even if she wasn't aware of it.
Don strode to the table, nodding at the mercs with a tight smile, not trusting they would find him humorous.
Su cuy'gar, ner vod...pehea bic slanar?
<Hello mates...how's it going?>
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on May 16, 2015 16:38:47 GMT -8
Berrik looked up with languid ease as Don approached, flicking the man a casual salute with his right hand. His booted feet rested on the table as he leaned his chair back against the wall behind him. Baru had a serving girl perched on his knee and was whispering in her ear as his hand traced circular stroking motions on her upper arm. He all but ignored the approach of Don, his attention fully on the girl, the single minded drive to get laid typical of the young. Vasha and Urur appeared to be engaged in some game of chance involving cards and forfeits of Tihaar consumption while Wura drink with the grim determination he did everything else. The Echani was nowhere in sight.
"Olarom, buc'ya. He nodded his head at the question. "Jate jate..."
{{Welcome, friend}} {{Good good...}}
Berrik's voice was as grizzled as his features, the man's eyes neither welcoming now hostile. With a slight gesture of his right hand he indicated a vacant chair, offering Donn a seat.
"To mhi?"
{{Join us?}}
He allowed his boots to drop back to the floor with a thunk, leaning forward to take his drink from where it had been sitting idle on the table. His eyes quickly scanned around, locating Sven in a moment, his gaze growing mourning ful as he saw only two drinks in the Concordians hands. With an exaggerated sigh he looked down into the near-empty vessel in his hand, swilling the liquid around a little before swallowing the ale.
The man had told the serving woman that they would clear the bill at the end of the meal and had tried to get the drinks included on such a tab only to be denied. He had fronted the first round but was now obviously hoping to get their mead paid from by their employers.
He let his thoughts be known...
"Haast borarir ibic..."
{{Thirsty work this...}}
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2015 17:26:40 GMT -8
Don slid into the seat with an easy smile as Berrik finished his last sentence. He knew Vee wouldn't approve of them buying drinks for the mercs, but in the end, she ultimately never knew what he did with the card, nor did she seem to really care. He knew what needed to be done far better than she did, which is why he was the co-pilot. It made her life easier, so Don didn't have a problem fudging.
Bic cuyir haat...cuun alor'ad kar'taylir ibic. Gar ru'kir hailir gar gai'ka, ner vod. Gar draar kar'taylir meg cuyir nakar'tuur.
<It's true...the captain knows this. You should fill your cup, my brother. You never know what is tomorrow.>
He leaned back into his chair, motioning at Berrik with his head to the bar, an obvious invitation to drink more on their tab. As he looked over to the bar, however, he saw Sven with a red-head female in armor...and she looked strikingly similar to Vee. The only difference was her hair was a copper, not a fire like his captain's, and though she lacked Vee's facial scar, her face was far harder and less feminine. While it was considered taboo to imply that a mando woman was delicate, or perhaps even feminine, and strength was more attractive, Don couldn't say he agreed. He liked his women strong, sure, but still wanted to know they were a woman. This red-head seemed your run-of-the-mill space or merc trash, probably overbearing without any propriety. That was the great thing about Vee. She was strong, but there was no doubt she differed from his gender, and she never acted like she needed to be a man to earn respect and obedience. She wasn't hard.
Don hoped Sven wasn't considering bringing the woman to a room to fuck or, worse, get drunk and bring her back to the ship. Not only could it hurt Vee, but it the fact they resembled each other would add insult to injury. He was starting to regret suggesting Vee bunk with Sven. He should have just kept his big mouth shut and let them eventually work it out. He was confident they would, but in the meantime, it would be nice to avoid some bumps in the road.
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Post by Roughnecks on May 16, 2015 17:48:44 GMT -8
With the two foaming mugs of ale in hand Sven could only bob his head at the greeting from Sheva, a slight colouring of his cheeks the only reaction to her playful mockery. He stepped out and to the side slightly as she slipped past him to the bar, their hips clunking as the armour came into contact. He stood there looking a bit stupid as he cast his mind back to the last time he had seen her...
It had been the withdrawal from the Yavin system on board Ori'vod. Their squad had been the last to lift from the siege of the Great Temple following the mad scramble as the vode had lost faith in Ashrah's crusade. Corr Vhett had already been lost to the madness that had seemed to consume him at the end, many of his fanatical priests following him to the Manda. They had stood under the shadows of the blastboat Tra'kad as Mereel had told them of the events, stating his intent to return to Concord Dawn with Sidara. Darian had remained quiet when Sheva had expressed misgivings about their future while Sven had been unsure as to what their concern was. He had not seen either of them after that...
"Gar payt mhi..."
{{You left us...}}
His words were soft yet loud enough to reach her ears, containing a hurt that actually surprised him after all these months. His face was set in a grim mask but there was no doubting the barely contained anger that lurked within. He took a step back, as if to get a better view of her, ales still held steadily in his hands.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on May 16, 2015 18:02:39 GMT -8
Her head came around in a spray of auburn locks, her eyes blazing for a second before softening to an understanding expression. She huffed out a sigh as she turned sideways, to prop her right elbow on the bar and keep him in view. Running her left hand through her hairs to drag all the strands behind her ears she fixed him with an intent look that spoke of matters best left buried, matters that would shatter illusions.
"Sushir ad'ika... Ogir kebise banare ibac gar naysh suvarir..."
{{Listen kid... There were things that you didn't understand...}}
Like what? Her thoughts muttered their own regrets and doubts about her course of action back then. We lost faith in the command structure and decided to try out hand elsewhere. We jumped ship and disappeared into the out rim. They have a word for that...
She sighed again and dropped her eyes to the ground.
"Ni ceta, Sven..."
{{I'm sorry, Sven...}}
She brought her eyes back up to meet his, the defiance there softened by genuine regret.
"Mhi Mirdirise bic jatne."
{{We thought it best.}}
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Post by Roughnecks on May 16, 2015 18:15:47 GMT -8
He held her gaze without flinching, the impassive mask firmly in place throughout what passed for an explanation. His eyebrow tweaked at the apology, something that he'd have never thought to hear from her lips, but otherwise he showed no reaction to her words. He held his silence for a moment longer before he spoke, leaning forward to avoid anyone overhearing.
"Mereel gai'r gar dar'manda..."
{{Mereel named you traitor...}}
He watched her closely for a reaction before continuing, leaning back again now that he returned his voice to a normal volume.
"Nu bah anade..."
{{Not to everyone...}}
He trailed off still watching her eyes.
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2015 18:16:01 GMT -8
Don continued to watch Sven and the red-head talk as Berrik made his way to the bar. His concentration on their exchange was interrupted by a barely audible ping of his comlink. He quickly pulled it off his belt. It was Vee.
Hi alor'ad. he said cheerfully, trying to hide any trepidation he was feeling with Sven at the bar with the mando trash. His expression quickly turned into one of concern as he heard the emotion in Vee's voice as she told him she needed him. His voice turned serious as he said What's going on Red, you alright? Where are you?
He listened with eyes widening as she explained what happened, a slight tremble to her voice.He couldn't remember the last time she was this vulnerably emotional. He could tell she was in bad shape, but trying to fight it to not seem weak...and perhaps a little drunk. Vee, stay right, there, I'm coming now, I'll take transport and be there soon.
He quickly cut the com and stood to his feet in a rush. The other mercs looked at him expectantly, but he hardly noticed them as he contemplated grabbing Sven. No, if he waited around it would take forever to get them back there. He would show up first and console Red before they arrived. He wanted her in better spirits before they saw her.He practically ran out of the 'batt, thankful he was able to flag down a taxi so quickly. He jumped in, shouted his location to the driver, and away they went. He commed Vee back. I'm in a cab now, Vee, I'm coming.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on May 17, 2015 15:47:01 GMT -8
She flinched back at his words, her face scrunching up slightly as if they caused her actual physical pain. Emotions flickered over her face as anger vied with sadness for dominance, the latter winning out in the end. Her eyes dropped along with her voice, her words coming out as a muted mutter nearly lost among the clamour of the barroom.
"Mhi an enteyor oyacyir ti te gaanadire mhi gotal'ur..."
{{We all must live with the choices we make...}}
While she wasn't surprised at the reaction of her old commander to hear the words delivered caused her heart to sink down into her boots, the regret and guilt surprising her somewhat. Perhaps she wasn't the cold hard warrior she liked to think she was after all, a thought that caused some bitterness in her mind. The words she had spoken echoed within her for a moment, their meaning shedding light on her current circumstances. Without and clan and without a job. Without friends even. That's where her choices had led...
With a sad smile she gave him a slight nod before turning away to face the bar tender who was fidgeting impatiently as he awaited her coin. She didn't turn back to him once she had paid the man, keeping her head lowered with her hands wrapped around the fresh beverage.
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Post by Roughnecks on May 17, 2015 16:09:33 GMT -8
His eyes said nothing as she spoke, peering out from the steel mask he was using as a face for this encounter. They were neither judging or forgiving when telling her about Mereel's anger, nor were they in anyway accusing or disgusted when she spoke. He merely watched and listened, maintaining his position for a few seconds after she had turned away.
He felt both anger and the righteous stance of one judging another on past actions. He was both hurt and furious that she and Darian had chosen to abandon their cause, no matter how foolish it had seemed. They had already gone through the worst betrayals, had perpetrated in the madness personally, and the unwillingness to help pick up the pieces was the most annoying thing of all. He kept his expression free of such things with some difficulty but he couldn't keep some of the surprise out of his eyes at her vulnerable nature. He had expected anger or denial but to have such wounded misery threw him a little. Still, he maintained his mask and decided to hold his tongue too despite a sudden urge to offer forgiveness. No, he thought stubbornly. That was something she would have to earn...
Finally he turned away and made his way over to their table, setting the drinks down and sitting before he realisedf that there was no sign of Don. Turning in his chair he scanned the surrounding crowd for the dark hair and distinctive features of his cousin, perhaps propped up against some barmaid, but could see nothing of him.
Finally he turned to Berrik who was just returning from the bar with a tray of drinks.
"Vaii Don Slanar?"
{{Where'd Don go?}}
His voice was merely curious as he picked up his ale and took a long, steady pull, smacking his lips as he lowered the tankard. His eyes once again roamed around the bar as he sought to pick Don out, finding it fast work even for Don's standards to already be upstairs with a bit of skirt.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on May 17, 2015 16:26:17 GMT -8
Berrik gave off indifference like a Hutt gave off body odour, the sense that ones question was the height of irrelevance seemingly a feeling he was destined to bestow upon people. His nonchalant shrug was artfully languid as he busily set about distributing the drinks, emptying them from the tray on which he had ferried them hither. With the empty tray in his hand he cast about for a moment then passed it off on a serving girl returning to the bar before dropping back into his chair with a huff of effort.
Finally his eyes met Sven, suddenly seeming to realise the man who was essentially his boss required an answer of sort. His shrug once again oozed vacant ignorance, his voice mirroring it in its bored tone.
"Dar..."
{{Gone...}}
The man picked up his drink and took a pull before setting it down again, wiping excess froth off of his lip with the back of his hand. The 'twins' continued to play their game, seeming lost to the rest of the universe as they babbled excitedly to each other in a variation of Mando'a that was too quick to follow. The Duros remained stoic and silent and there was still no sign of the Echani. The kid had so much of his attention on the girl in his lap that it was a wonder he could remember to breath.
No, Berrik thought grimly. Its up to me to answer these questions. Another thought occurred to him too, helping to stiffen his desire to be helpful. That Don guy had said that he would get their drinks. Now it was up to Sven and he doubted whether the man would be as easy to provide as his dark-haired kin.
"Kemire dayn ret rayshe'a ru."
{{Walked out maybe five minutes ago.}}
His eyes grew shrewd as he peered over the top of his glass.
"Ru joohar'ire gar dinui te pirure."
{{Said you'd get the drinks.}}
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Post by Roughnecks on May 17, 2015 16:43:55 GMT -8
Sven frowned heavily and cast one last look around as if disbelieving the man's words and expecting to see Don returning from the fresher or something. His mouth opened then closed before uttering what would likely have been a pointless question to Berrik, deciding against incurring some sarcastic remark from the man.
It was not like Don to bail on a drink and equally unlike him to not take the time to say where he was going. It wouldn't have taken a moment to sing out as to his intent, hell he pretty much would have had to pass Sven on the way out. A flash of annoyance at his cousin danced through his mind for a moment as he wondered what emergency could have called for such inconsideration. He contemplated trying to get him on the comlink but stubbornly set his jaw and refrained.
"Haamyc..."
{{Strange...}}
He said the word more for the benefit of Berrik than anything else. A way to signify the words had been heard and understood. He picked up the drink again and downed the rest of it before waving to a serving girl.
Well if he was going to have to buy drinks he would damn sure be drinking his share. He had credits left over from his journey that would see them well on their way. He was reluctant to use the card on booze no matter what Don had promised Berrik. He wasn't even sure Don had agreed to getting the mercs drinks and would not have put it past the wily merc leader not to be long on the truth in this regard.
He indicated to the girl when she arrived that he would pay for the meals first, using the card to do so, then covered their drinks up until that point out of what creds he had in his pocket. The amount was ravaged by a third in a moment and he winced at the deficit. Still, he ordered a large bottle of Tihaar and six glasses along with another round of ale, the Echani could get his own, and set back in his chair with a sigh.
He still warred within as to whether to call Don and decided finally to leave him a message. It would go to his comlink and store there with an alert pinging him every ten minutes or so to inform him of its existence.
Don. This is Sven. Came back to find you gone. Hope nothing wrong? Call me
By the time the girl returned he was done and set about pouring the Tihaar...
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Post by Deleted on May 17, 2015 18:21:10 GMT -8
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Post by Roughnecks on May 18, 2015 15:49:19 GMT -8
Sven was on his fourth shot of Tihaar, the glass halfway to his lips, when his comlink tones with the message from Don. With a quick jerk of his wrist he saw to the alcohol before pulling the device free from its housing on his helmet and holding it to his ear. His face dropped into a frown at Don's words and the tone they carried, a sigh escaping him as he replaced the comlink.
"Mhi linibar bah slanar..."
{{We need to go...}}
He suited action to his words by rising from his seat, a slight wobble accompanying his movements. He dragged a hand down his face before scooping up his buy'ce and placing it over his head.
Concern ran through his mind despite the foggy undertones of inebriation, Don's words setting off alarm bells that had him erring towards high alert. It wasn't like Don to get rattled and, while he didn't sound particularly panicked, there was an anxious current that seemed to find its way across the com waves.
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Cayne
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Post by Cayne on May 18, 2015 16:11:20 GMT -8
Berrik's eyebrows rose along with his gaze as they tracked Sven's lurch to a standing position, lip curling slightly at the difficulty the task seemed to cause. His expression became mournful as he looked longingly towards the bar, eyes sweeping across the 'Baat as if to savour the memory of the place. Vash and Urur had broken off their game and were also rising to their feet while the Duros was already standing, looking for all the world like he had expected such a call to come.
Baru by contrast seemed to just have noticed the movements, eyes blinking as he looked around the girl's bare shoulder at the activity around him. His expression was wary, that of a man about to have his cookie stolen, his voice containing a resigned edge to it when he spoke.
"Leaving are we?"
Berrik's eyes remained fixed on Sven for a few seconds longer before he too pushed himself to his feet, the dissapointment gone and the impassive mask of a ruthless merc back in place.
"Lek..."
He made the word a sigh as he scooped up the bottle of Tihaar and stepped to Sven's side. Baru also stood, spilling the girl into the chair he had vacated and ignoring her pout of annoyance. Berrik's free hand drew a comlink and hit a switch, looking up at Sven's questioning look.
"Te Echani... "
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Post by Roughnecks on May 18, 2015 16:57:11 GMT -8
Sven merely nodded his head at Berrik's word on the Echani, casting his eyes briefly around the mercenaries who had shrugged off the disappointment of being called away from their revelries like the well disciplined bunch he had thought them to be at first meeting.
Despite the slightly rough edges put upon their movement by their alcohol consumption they still looked ready to hose it down with whatever opposition they needed to, the dangerous menace that went with such types readily in evidence. Those gathered there seemed to hold no annoyance at this late night call to arms nor did they see need to ask questions of their commander, trusting that what they needed to know to do their jobs would be forthcoming with such need.
Sven's mind briefly flickered to the Echani, wondering if he was be just as willing to drop everything and move out on the word of a Mandalorian. The guy was probably keeping his head down while they were on-planet. There was, after all, no love lost between Echani and Mando'ade.
He moved towards the door with even steps despite the Tihaar, the merc following like grim sentinels in his wake. He glanced at the bar and saw Sheva watching him intently, her green eyes like the flash of twin turbolaser cannons tracking their target. He held her gaze as he moved for a moment before he had to break eye contact as he moved around a table. By the time he looked back she was gone and he was passing through the door and onto the streets of Keldabe.
Wura... Mar'eyir mhi iviin'ise.
{{Wura... Secure us a speeder.}}
The Duros slipped off into the night to find them the means to reach the spaceport.
Sven idly thought that perhaps he should have been more specific lest the silent grey-skinned being jack someone for their ride...
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Post by Deleted on May 31, 2015 8:03:19 GMT -8
Clad in beskar'gam of black and orange, the six feet and six inch tall, two-hundred sixty pound muscular frame of a man sat at booth along the wall immediately to left of the entrance to this famed establishment. Golden locks of coarse hair covered his head, and vivid blue orbs sat deep in his face. A scar was etched into his forehead and through his left brow and his jaw was lined with a not well kept blonde beard. Conall was the man's name and he belonged to the Mandalorian clan Ordo as was indicated by the crested painted over his left breast.
In hand, Conall held a mug with only half of its original contents remaining - the fiery mandalorian delicacy known as tihaar. And on a wooden plate set in front of him was a tiingilar - a blisteringly spicy casserole and a Mandalorian favorite. His buy'ce was also on the table, set at a position as if to look upon him for a perhaps a sense of company or maybe that's just how it had landed he had placed it on the table.
A short time would pass before a beeping would begin as his visual wrist comlink signaled as though someone was trying to reach. They were and that single person was none other than his Aliit'alor, Cathaoir Ordo. The message received was a short and simple message but with how it was conveyed, not to mention its priority signature, let Conall know that the task was indeed of some of the utmost importance.
Throwing down the appropriate funds, Conall grabbed his Buy'ce and left the Oyu'baat, his bearing for his HWK-290 situated on the landing pad just outside. There, he would climb in, complete his appropriate checks and blast off and into the planet's orbit above.
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Aug 27, 2015 14:32:32 GMT -8
Cathaoir, a six foot four inch hulk of a man clad in the traditional Mandalorian Beskar'gam sat at a table more towards the center of the dining area. Accompanying him currently, were two others; a fellow Ordo, his nephew, Conall, and a member from the Vhett clan, Kalmann. Before them were a few plates, each catering to their individual needs and wants; the plates slightly different in the food that was heaped upon them. However, one thing they all had in common was their steins filled with the fiery delicacy, tihaar.
Cathaoir's buy'ce sat on the seat of the vacant chair to his right with the two others across from him. His beard had been allowed to grow out some now, taking to a darker texture than that which usually showed through the scruff that was known to hug it.
"Bid,"1 Cathaoir's voice was rustic, carrying about it a token of experience and wisdom as he acknowledge Kalmann. "Conall rejorhaa'i ni tion'tuur kaysh otahya gar laam gurire! Vabi'au, gar cuyi broka bal talyc. Vene oyayc."2 Cathaoir paused a moment, taking a long swig from his stein, they fiery concoction stinging his throat as it slithered snakelike passed the chasm of his mouth. "Rejorhaa'ir ni. Meg gana gar nari ibac Kad malyasa'yr va sarsala gar kyr'am bat vhetin be akaan?"3
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Ka'ra Ordo
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Post by Ka'ra Ordo on Aug 27, 2015 16:37:53 GMT -8
*Manda'yaim, the heartland of the Mandalorian. A world rich with history and tradition far deeper than even Ordo, her own home. And yet, there was always one particular establishment that had always drawn her eye: The Oyu'baat. And when she had set foot inside and tasted of its fruits, it had established a firm place in her heart; tihaar was a wonderful beverage, yes, but from the stores of the Oyu'baat, it was perfection like she had never experienced. The flavor, the fiery sensation, it was pure ecstasy.
So of course she wasn't going to refuse Aliit'alor Cathaoir's offer to join him here!
Ka'ra sat at the bar, buy'ce on the stool beside her, a mug of tihaar in her grip. The adults were having their conversation, so she decided not to intrude; a mere three years separated her from the title of "adult" herself, and she had progressed quite well in her training, but it would still be some time before she was allowed to undergo verd'goten. She longed for that day, but for now, she was happy enough to be able to taste the riches the home of the Mando'ade had to offer...*
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Post by Deleted on Aug 27, 2015 16:53:24 GMT -8
Kalmann was only slightly smaller in stature than Cathaoir, the mandalorian that had spoken to him, but that was not clearly evident in the slouched positions the three took in their seats. There was a thick, dark beard that hugged the curvature of his jaw line, cheeks and lip. The blood that had previously painted his face back on Yavin had since been washed free of his skin, though a healing gash along the right side, just above the temple, was easily noticed.
He picked the stein up from the table and filled his mouth with some of the fiery beverage, sloshing it around his mouth a little before inevitably swallowing it and returning the stein to the table top once again. " Ni gana emuuri at sirbur Ni kar'taylir, a ketye be me'bana lap'a at gana eyayti ne tkiriyr. Shi eak nari Ni pabida pavarnu bal dilasa gide be meg ni haa'tayli ogir."1 He closed his eyes a moment, trying to remember. But . . . nothing. It was just blank. A void left from a fleeing memory. When he reopened his eyes, they fell upon the young vode seated at the bar in front of him. He could remember, still, when he were her age and how everything in the universe seemed to turn just right. How everything was perfect, except at that age he wasn't fully able to stomach the strength of a drink of tihaar. Good on her though.
It wasn't long, though, before his attention turned back to Cathaoir who was seated directly across from him at that table. He frowned. This man, Cathaoir, had been a friend of his Aliit'alor, Corr. They'd pretty much been brothers though sharing neither blood nor name. And Kalmann had gone to Yavin with his Aliit, though now he knew nothing of where he was. No, he'd not see his chief since the battle there by that blood soaked river. He knew Cathaoir would eventually ask about Corr, but he just didn't know when. There was no way to tell. There had been so much chaos and death on that riverbank, he'd be lucky if he'd been able to identify even a quarter of the faces there outside his own clan. He'd have to place his trust in the vode he spoken with moments before they passed. The Vode that had told him that Corr had been seen leaving the planet and the battle here. Hell, he had to force himself to believe it too.
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Cathaoir Ordo
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Post by Cathaoir Ordo on Aug 28, 2015 16:21:56 GMT -8
Cathaoir leaned in a slight amount, bring a fork with some grub up to his mouth. He ate it, the bantha steak seared to a perfect medium rare; the meat tender and moist. It seemed to melt in his mouth as he chewed then swallowed. He took another large swallow from his stein before focusing his attention once more on Kalmann before him. " Biai sra mir... a pu'yida, a Ni kar'tayli aalar. Ni gupu hiibi a urakto ctuba at ne srukre kovid tion'tuu Ni cuyi chaaj'yc evaar'la bal katkta ta'ya ui jag Ni cuyir jii."1He chuckled faintly, thinking back to that day in his early twenties."Bic cuy bat Clakdor IV. Ni cuy shi shi lo ner denah'gyam simir bal gana a mri be jag ayahada ni. Ni cuyir bid sur'a bat etid, ni nari va hiibi lo bathetr bar'gyam ayahada ni teh sulyu. Kaysh cata'ga kaysh save mracr laamyc bal la'gata ner kovid e'yar'u ner buy'ce. Braha ner kovid o'. Su nari va partayli ketye sto be ibac tuur ui ibac. Nari va o' partayli ner riduu gai."2
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