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Talus


Jidai Geki

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Talus

 

Astrographical Information

Region: Core Worlds

Sector: Corellian

System: Corellian

Orbital Position: 3

Moons: Several

Grid Coordinates: O-9

 

Physical Information

Class: Terrestrial

Atmosphere: Type 1 Breathable Oxygen Mix

Primary Terrain: Forests, mountains, grassy plains, mud flats, seas

Points of Interest: Kurtuln Den, Battlefield of Talus, Kystes' Spine, Mephyt River, Aximia River, Binyare Pirate Bunker, Fort Praji, Akazi Plains, Ageyn Foothills, Derik'hur Highlands, Yi'Tsarin River Canyon, Talus Mud Flats, Major Cities: Dearic (capital), Nashal, Qaestar Town

 

Societal Information

Indigenous Species: Humans

Immigrated Species: Selonians, Drall, Devaronian, Twi'lek, Sullustan, Bith, Quarren, Nikto, Aqualish

Primary Language(s): Galactic Basic

Faction Affiliation: CoreSec

 

Defense Rating: Level # - Neutral Planets Only

 

JediRP Canon History:

 

Talus boasts the mansion of Keenava Ootunavi (formerly Lallunia Kallemi). Notably, Mirdala and Fett spent some time on Talus after the former's severe abdominal injury at the hands of Judyc Viba. Lemnos Industries also has a showroom located on Talus.

 

Old description in spoiler:

 

By request...

 

Talus is one of the Twin Worlds located in the Corellian system that orbits Centerpoint Station, the other being Tralus, its sister planet. It is one of the five habitable planets in the system, and is a temperate world very similar to Corellia. It has a wide range of climates and terrain, including forests, grass plains and mud flats.

 

Talus is roughly the same size as its sister planet, Tralus. Both orbit a common center of gravity and are together known as the Double Worlds. Talus holds many mysteries for explorers. It is rumored that a planetary repulsor is located deep beneath the planetary surface. This device may have been used millennia before the Battle of Yavin to move Talus from an unknown orbit and into its current orbit.

 

The planet is mostly inhabited by three sentient species: Humans, the Drall and the Selonians. Although the three species mostly live peacefully, there is a history of political conflict amongst them, usually marked by sporadic violence. Talus is also home to farmers and miners, including a noteworthy Zabrak colony.

 

 

((Summary compiled by Jaina Jade Skywalker. Thank you!))

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http://www.themire.co.uk-- being a veracious and lurid account of the goings-on in the savage Mire and the sootblown alleys of Portstown's Rookery!

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For the past few hours, Lallu had been sleeping on the rim of a cold durasteel bench, resting only footsteps from a lovely pseudo-Corellian park. Her snores were but small whispers that probed the silent tranquility the environment, warily trying to find reasons for suspicion. Ever since her consciousness had solved its own cryptic riddle upon the heels of a violent blow to the head, Lallu had been getting phenomenal sleep and even though her attitude had soured with the victory of her violent alter ego, her health both physical and mental perked up remarkably. Her dreams were as corruptible as normal and her mind was an empty vessel once again. The only drawback was that her existence was now dreadfully lonely.

 

Small sloshing sounds from her mouth were the only few sounds heard before her prone form stirred, reaching hands irrelevantly out from her body to stroke the Talus morning air. Her preparations had been small but deliberate in her swift acknowledgment to her master's wishes. With a slight change in identity, makeup and wardrobe, ”˜Ulina Gyra' had not only scoped out a few of the outer-lying buildings for her purposes, but she had secured their prices and their designs.

 

The Black Twi'lek, whose red tattoos were now covered in black makeup, settled onto the cold durasteel bench in a now comfortable seated position, feeling a shrill cool feeling prickling up the base of her spine. She opened up a small casually designed bag and began rooting around what little personal credits she had left, calculating how much she needed for food and how much she would need for the future prospect of buying one of the aforementioned properties. Since Lallu had settled in the capital city of Talus, Dearic, and the properties of note were located on or near the outskirts of the city, the property value stood at about five hundred thousand credits each, on average.

 

Getting that money short of robbing a bank would be heroic indeed, but she needed this money to be somewhat hidden, to be traced only by a third party. Granted it would be unrealistic to expect a hardened researcher not to find out who originally made the account, but it would be better if that person wasn't who they were pretending to be. Which is precisely why I registered a different Id after the second public transport picked me up.

 

The only similarity would be hidden underneath an elaborate, but common red dress and that was the whip she had pilfered from a taskmaster. She would buy her own eventually, but as a practicing implement it served her needs well”¦

 

Didn't Sheog say something about having lots of Money? Do I still have his number?

Lallu took a moment to page through a long list of comm numbers in a small device that had been strapped to her waist and thumbed up the Hutt's from the middle. In all reality it wasn't that long of a list, because Lallu had little in the way of a public presence, but she had all she needed. Now”¦ All I need to do is pretend I am still the dimwitted naïve little Lallu I used to be and this should be a piece of cake.

 

 

Keenava Two Suns.png

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Lallu was thrilled to know her plan was working so well. Her lekku rested softly upon her back, touching slightly the common red dress, as she listened for a comm beep that came within minutes of her initial message. Step one was all going so well and she was enjoying it all. Lallu knew enjoyment wasn't necessarily the best way to learn anything, because getting cocky was sort of an anti-teaching mechanism, but as she listened to Sheog's rambling voice, she began to twirl the end of her right lekku in her finger, slightly rubbing off the powdery black makeup that was established to hide her tattoos. Once the message was over and her smile tripled from its initial size, she worked to send a reply in order to not sound suspicious. Quickly she held the device to her ear and voiced a small message, but enough to get the message across.

 

<>

 

With a snap, Lallu wrote the number down on a small piece of paper and headed toward the nearest bank, simultaneously calling up the Realtor of one of the properties she had been looking at earlier. It would be a slightly lengthy process, she knew, including a lot of fabricated information that would be made legitimate in time to come. Lallu had already been able to convincingly change her own ID so the name she put down was easy enough to finagle, but the previous address listing, her other info and numbers needed checking out. It was all a matter of time though before she would be done with her first mission...

____________________________________________________________

 

 

After the mountain of paperwork was crested, Lallu followed the Realtor to her favorite place, which stood as one of the better buildings near the middle of the City's outskirts.

 

Lallu didn't know if Furion had a preference on furniture or if he even wanted furniture, but she had the down payment on the home handled and managed to pay out the entirety of the bill with no need for a mortgage and plenty of change. So, if he wanted something, she easily had about five-hundred thousand left over and was eagerly awaiting her next mission. It is only one call away”¦

Edited by Guest

 

 

Keenava Two Suns.png

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"Well Mr. Worthington, it seems I have another task to perform before I can move into the place, do you think you could lock it down for me and give me the card keys?" Ulina said as she looked up toward a tall regal man with staunchly, bushy eyebrows.

 

He had a rather fair complexion and deep blue eyes that gazed idly into Lallu's with mild fascination at her curious honesty.

 

"Why yes ma'am, I will. Here are the card keys you requested, and all I will be requiring is the money for our transaction." Said the man as he held over four copper colored cards with the number address on them.

 

"Oh! You needn't have to worry of that Mr. Worthington", Lallu said, her hands receiving the cards rather quickly and a small smile tempting the surface of her face.

 

"Oh? And why is that?" The inquisition of his statement burned into her face, but he found no questionable glances or deceptive stare hidden in her gaze.

 

"Why, because it was handled by electronic transaction, here is the receipt." Lallu or 'Ulina' handed over what looked to be a small data card that was loaded with all of the info the man needed. With that handled, Mr. Worthington nodded in a farewell agreement and pushed a few buttons on his remote to lock down the house from the outside.

So, thought Lallu as she got out of reach of Mr. Worthington's penetrating gaze, I need to make a stop at Coruscant and I suspect that this will drain a decent amount of money from the account, but it will all be worth it, in time...

 

 

Keenava Two Suns.png

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  • 2 weeks later...

Ullanna huffed lividly as she got off the transport in a rather awkward situation. It appeared her new name had garnered her some attention and not only did she come out of the transport in full CorSec garb, but with a weapon or two holstered at her side with a nice shiny badge flashing in the morning sun.

 

Her new name was 'Ullanna Gwynn' and it was written in her new dossier, that she was associated with a CorSec unit that had been on leave for quite some time.

 

Apparently there were quite a few officers on board, so she was given an extremely nice greeting. When they asked to see her uniform and credentials, she presented the credentials, but said she lost her uniform in an accident she didn't want to talk about... Something about it going through the wrong machine for a wash and ending up being incinerated instead of cleaned. Somehow they bought her false honesty and she managed to entertain them further as their joy at seeing a fellow officer coursed through the situation and a large part of the ship as well... At least it isn't the entire ship... Ullanna muttered to herself, remembering the huge orgy back on Nar Shadaa.

 

In between questions and fond hellos though, Ullanna just couldn't help but play with her hair. It was so long and soft; it tingled with life and exuberance. It was the same as having hundreds of lekku sprouting from her head that all responded at equal potency.

 

Lost in the revelry of the situation and her charming presence, the officers quickly remedied her un-uniformed situation and once she was geared up, they began talking to her as if they had been buddies all their lives. Ullanna was thoroughly confused, trying to make up stories as fast as she could process all of the new jargon swimming through her head, but her head was still a little queasy from the operation and when it was all over she was reacting as if she was caught already; her hands shot to her face in embarrassment, but it appeared that her reaction was more appropriate than she thought. When it was all over, it appeared she had done enough of a performance to fool everyone there. Her heart was pounding and her words were jumbled, but she managed to pull off innocence enough to get a certain level of sympathy. The stress was beginning to wear on her until it let up near the end, but now that she was off the boat, she was beginning to realize exactly how tiring being stressed really was. Especially in a body that wasn't used to it.

I need to go home and collapse.... On the floor... Heh, we really need furniture.

 

A few of the CorSec that had happily reprimanded her earlier were commenting on her stories and jabbing at her arms, but they eventually let her be as they moved on to their own duties and let her make the trek to her new home. It seemed that their merry emotions had dwindled into a more fatigued sense of apathy as they walked away, mimicking Ulanna's own, but she didn't really care anymore; she just wanted to go home.

 

It was a decent distance from the starport and located amongst other buildings of roughly the same type. In no real way did the house stand out by any means, but that was exactly what her master wanted. He wanted low-key ID's, a low key house and no trace to exactly where it is they were and what it is they were doing.

 

 

Keenava Two Suns.png

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  • 9 months later...

Lallu carefully made her way to Talus with little added trouble, aside from the large burden of injury she regrettably endured; a badge of dishonor that she wore with every step she took, with every movement she made.

 

She consciously disobeyed her master's order, even if the situation deemed it practical, and it pained her to exist. Lallu didn't exactly understand why, but as her body throbbed with a physical ache, an emotional pain seemed to hover above her like a lingering colossus; it wasn't to be seen, but the colossus' weight would be felt, pressing slowly down on her as she continued flying toward her destination.

 

At the time, she dismissed it for continued ailments from her years as a slave, but her own mind wouldn't let her forget even just a small part of that feeling. A small inkling of it lingered even if she couldn't place it anymore, but new problems arose once she hit atmo that effectively pushed whatever personal business she had further into herself to be dealt with later.

 

Her pain became a factor in her landing space regardless of her will pushing it otherwise. She had originally intending on landing ten clicks or so from her destination to phase out her path and defend her intended direction, but through the blistering pain of her body, she desperately reached out to find the path of least resistance.

 

There were no landing pads at her destination, which would have inevitably been more fortuitous for her, but she settled instead on an unmarked landing pad five or so clicks away instead of the original ten. It would still be enough distance to give any pursuers a run for their money within the crowds she would be walking through, but something in Lallu internally punished herself for settling with the shorter path even if it meant the subtlest comfort.

 

Even though the landing pad was unmarked, it was not completely abandoned and there seemed to be a palpable irritation rising in the air as she committed to the landing procedures as if nothing was wrong, essentially slapping any worker in the face without cause.

 

However, once the grizzly looking, limping black skinned Twi pushed out of the ship with a lingering scowl ridden all over her face, the workers scattered away from her as if her skin bore an inevitable leprosy.

 

The technicians and clerks simply marked the vehicle's registration down to avoid conflict with the Twi'lek and went straight back to what they were doing before, while Lallu kept the inevitable ragged pace her injuries condemned her to; each step composing a nightmare of new pain singing into her mind as she walked, cascading through her numb receptors, tickling her darker side.

 

It was a temptation wise to avoid in a public street, but a temptation she sourly wished she didn't need to deal with.

 

It was a familiar beast that seemed to subtly pour over her at every turn, but in this unpleasant state of affairs, the creature seemed to leer at her from the corners of its black habitat as she walked, threatening to leap into her judgment, but remaining still. She regarded it from her consciousness as she fought the fading strength of her body and for a second wished that all of her effort could amount to something, but even as she passed the one kilometer marker, she could predict the impending task of the four that remained.

 

It was going to be a long walk...

 

((for the purpose of speeding things up a little... Time transition!))

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lallu's mind screamed with joy as a familiar form blew into her perception, but an inkling of discrepancy crawled into her thoughts that didn't seem to leave as soon as the Twi'lek touched the code lock to the door.

 

Her hands instinctively reached for the numbers, without pausing to look through the blood drying on her body and the pain still piercing through, but when her fingers met bare circuitry her pulse accelerated quickly.

 

Her adrenaline shot and her eyes widened as the door opened without much effort and decorations were cast every which way under pain of struggle.

 

Lallu couldn't feel the pain of loss that lingered through the air in remnant to the deeds that passed by, but she could see the hasty marks of feet on the ground, swipes of hands, burns of blasters and cuts from vibro blades on the fine Corellian wood of some pieces of furniture.

 

Each new discovery drew more attention from her and renewed her growing sense of worry, feeding her insecurity and pushing the situation into bigger proportions until her fears were confirmed by a note on the table.

---- To whom it may concern

 

We have taken the girl; we don't know who she belongs to, nor what should happen with her, but if you want to see her again, you must bring five million credits to our rendezvous point here, the letter indicated with a crudely drawn map of the area. We hope to see you soon, she may not last long enough for you to dilly dally...

 

Then, at the end of the short letter Lallu could barely make out what looked to be a signature scrawled quickly at the very end as if in a rush, "Onyx?" she questioned to herself before folding the piece of paper and stashing it in the only place she could think of.

 

Regarding the urgency of the situation, Lallu quickly walked a few more steps into the house to see to her wounds a bit, drop off her stuff, send for a technician to fix the door and after all of her preps were done, whether or not she had been fully healed yet, her mind was made up minutes after she realized Rose was gone.

 

It wasn't a question of whether or not she figured it was a trap, it was more a question of how fast could Lallu get there. Rose was important to Furion and as such was important to Lallu. The Twi'lek would find her, no matter what it took...

 

 

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  • 3 weeks later...

The only question was, how exactly was she going to handle it?

 

Lallu stood there, her left hand against the main doorway at the threshold of exit and the other in a makeshift sling, puzzling to herself and gripping with the lingering pain that drifted through her limbs. The Twi'lek couldn't find anything more than bacta patches for her wounds and had to painfully reset a few of her bones for the splints and patches to actually work. So she wasn't really enjoying the prickling sensations that came to her as her shakily connected ribs altered position with par to her movements, even if they were healing.

 

All in all it wasn't a desirable situation, but if the letter condemned anything in its hasty writing, it was impatience and impatience didn't bode well for targets.

 

Well... If I sit here and bleed while Rose is contained, Furion will have my hide for sure. If I go after her though, there isn't a definite chance I will succeed.

 

Lallu searched her mind for answers, but ultimately gave in to inevitability. She had no reason to sit and sulk when pain wasn't something she was unfamiliar with and if she didn't do something about the situation at hand, the consequences would be far greater than what she was suffering through now. Her right leg rebelled at that statement, as did the bickering of her ribs, but her arm was quite comfortable in its cloth and was on its way to a full recovery.

 

She slowly removed her hand from the side of the doorway, cringing a little at the sharp painful sensations jabbing her side, but did her best to ignore them. It was hard, but she managed well enough as she walked further into the house to retrieve her knives; crude tools robbed from those with the negative will of fate upon their actions. They weren't the sharpest blades around and Lallu had limited implements through which to sharpen them, but she only needed them to be sharp enough to make a dent. A dent is all I need”¦

 

The Twi'lek panted silently to herself, trying to compensate for the weakness in her limbs, but failing miserably and falling to her knees. The motion was swift and unpredictable. It pushed her hands straight to the floor, following her knees and sending more pain rattling down her spine, shattering her will to stabilize her body. I've got to do this”¦

 

Lallu felt the healing of the patches taking their time, but knew patience would not win this day. She had to act fast; she had to act now.

 

Failure is unacceptable”¦

 

Lallu grunted loudly as she struggled against her weight on the floor. Sweat dribbled down her skin and her muscles screamed with heated agony. She could barely feel the pain anymore as it continued shooting up her arms, but she persisted. After a few moments, at the behest of her wailing limbs, she pushed herself to her feet. She was shaking slightly from side to side, but felt the adrenaline pumping her limbs through their adverse conditions regardless.

 

She looked, her red eyes scanning for any other clues that the captors might have left in their haste, but treaded carefully to her knives and moved with deceptive haste.

 

They will know pain...

 

Once she willed herself to the threshold of the house and locked the door, she fled into the night.

 

They will know misery...

_____________________________________ _ _ _ _ ____________________ _ _ _ _ ______________

 

With the pain of each step pushing her forward, the dark skinned Twi'lek moved through the night air like a woman possessed. Her eyes flared crimson even as the sway of her body, encouraged by the sounds and consistency of broken bones swinging about, pulled ravenous vultures from their roosts. Their degraded feathers flapped in the wind behind her, making more sound then they were conscious of, betraying their stations and forfeiting their lives.

 

As if their sounds didn't betray their positions enough though, the vultures could not forgo the insatiable lust for exploiting vulnerability that was pungent in their actions and hung in the air like a thick smog. It littered her senses as she moved and even at the sole contempt of her determined notions, she couldn't help but smell it. It was a smell - an ever present feeling - she was familiar with and one she wouldn't soon forget.

 

The faults of sinful men that couldn't control impulse freckled the sensory attack, and before Lallu could register the moves of her assault, she had already stopped.

 

The cloth of her arm splint fell away; discarded, like a single crimson flag, waving in the heart of chaos for the fallen wastrels.

 

Her attention was single, it was focused.

 

Lallunia felt the tenuous tingle of the fracture as its lingering effects still tickled her mind, but the black wound blocking use of her right arm was healing quickly at the behest of the patch still clinging to it. Due to its small size, it didn't demand recognition, but it was still present even as it moved into the back of Lallu's mind.

 

The tools of her dark dance lay upon her hips once more within the confines of their cloth wrappings, fresh blood covering their corroded blades and a silver glint accenting the aftermath of her art.

 

It was a necessity.

 

Each supposed 'innocent' that looked upon her with judging eyes was met with no return, no reciprocation. Their probing eyes that groped her form as it shambled, limped, and finally walked down several lengths of street weren't a concern to her. Rose...

 

Mortality didn't even find concern in the Twi'lek as the fresh blood of her bountiful deeds took to her body as much as her own. Even when she stole witness to the urban sprawl melting away behind her and the warehouses of durasteel gray fading in to replace them, she was so immersed in the poetry of her own existence and that of her mission, that the other parts of the galaxy didn't seem to matter.

 

Large warehouses with walls as thick with durasteel as twenty moderately sized vehicles smashed into one, swung above Lallu's head as she neared their home on the outskirts of the town's industrial sector without a reasonably cautious approach.

 

For a moment, standing at the foot of one particularly large warehouse, Lallu had trouble remembering which one of these particular warehouses was the site of the meeting, and began picking around each one instead.

 

Her hunger still pulsed deep within her mind and soul though, even in this contemplative state.

 

Even while she stood, subtlety begging itself the better option, the amount of pain that overwhelmed her basic senses urged her to ignore any other alternatives. It was the strength of clamor though that ultimately drew her intentions away from eminent strokes of senseless destruction and vandalism.

 

Noises erupted from an open door near her and revelation emerging from the depths of the hollow metal, rang in her ears and carried her onward toward a more reliable path.

 

_________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __________________________________________________ _ _ _ _ _

(5/11/2011)

 

An amorphous shadow stalked the building, silently moving from a series large crates upon the warehouse's broadside to the catwalks that littered its middle level.

 

The shadow was shaky, giving form to its procession with the apparent draw of black fleshy limbs due to its inept attempts at sleight, but the captors beneath were covering its faults. The shadow was able to make mistakes because the more potent ineptitude lay beneath it as it lurked within the darker pockets of the catwalks to make up for its lack in finesse.

 

It surveyed the scene with brilliant eyes through the crutch of unconscious power, and although its crippled and inept form found an ideal perch on the side, which allowed the shadow full view, its form drew more ineffectual means of balance.

 

It tried to wrench the plague of chaotic pain from its consciousness in fear that its wrath would be relentless and uncontrollable, but the shell of strength cracked and the fragility of her fading condition clamored in the dark as it spilled out. It tried to return to the shell in hopes that the strength may still be there, but her crude attempts at recovering logic were countered with a fragile consciousness, and she lost control.

 

The prone form of the black Twi'lek emerged from the shadow and fell with an unfettered 'thud' upon the side of a crate and slammed into the side of another, unsettling the healing of her already fractured side.

 

The boisterous men continued to warble, settled about their captive, as if their mouths were good for nothing else and only inclined their heads within interest to the noise. More suspicious men fought their suppressive instincts though and began to roam the area, searching for the sound.

 

Lallu's form hung, like dirty laundry upon the backside of a crate and was curiously avoided. The scavengers failed to notice the cadaver hanging above them and in the end, their efforts didn't claim the bounty of her body. No, instead, Lallu's body unceremoniously plopped into their unsuspecting laps, pushing them to the ground and causing even the boisterous few to come and see the commotion.

 

Their surprise at the situation that the other, more suspicious men had gotten themselves into, was warranted. It was even expected. The actions that followed though were consistent of a harsh inevitability that stalked Lallu in her darkest of thoughts.

 

Rough callused hands grabbed at her and even more groped. Eyes littered about and pried cloth away from the unconscious form to see what treasure laid beneath, but in the rain of limbs and speculation rest a set of crimson eyes... Burning...

 

I've been holding this in, for way”¦ too”¦ long”¦

 

With a scream that curdled blood, the Twi'lek erupted from the forms of men covering her body and in an act of renewed strength, cut them down. She could feel as her tools lept from their cloth sheaths and into her scarred hands, casting asunder each usurper with every beautiful silver arc cascading above, below and around her; a beautiful metallic symphony in a river of blood. The lecherous assailants did their best to flee any way they could to avoid her murderous procession, but each felt the bite of her blades and the bitter taste of copper upon the cold durasteel floor.

 

_________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __________________________________________________ _ _ _ _ _

(5/12/2011)

 

Her visual savagery sated, the beast remained. Her eyes savored the site of her gruesome retribution; her ears indulged in the sounds of cracks and her own callused fingers tempted enthusiasm with each tear of limbs upon the ground, but she wanted more... She craved... She hungered...

 

The weakness of her sanity protested through the consciousness of her actions, but the steps she took were not her own.

 

One by one they would all fall, regardless. The beast knew this. The beast rounded a nearby crate and propelled her body hand and foot through a few milling sycophants and sent them crashing to the ground with powerful strikes to muscle and bone alike.

 

She was nothing but flesh to them... NOTHING

 

Painful boiling tears shot through her eyes and she screamed once more, pushing the girth of a crate onto unwilling perpetrators and feeding on their pain.

 

The vastness of her wrath exploded in a subtle perversion of the air that was ever present, but had just recently - per her outburst - emerged to a presence capable of register. It was the encore of her macabre dance that seemed to hang in the air; a morbid reminder to those that remained, of what was to come should they stay.

 

YOU BETTER RUN!!!

 

Fire burned in the beasts eyes as she didn't hesitate to run after each wastrel until the lot of them were gone. It seemed futile, but she didn't care; the beast was a creature of impulse.

 

She forgot her mission; she forgot her purpose. She was an avatar of rage and culled a river of carnage upon the cadavers of her fallen enemies even in their limpid states.

 

She sought unending retribution and would never be sated.

 

Lallu?

 

The word seemed to lag, distant and away, but the echoes off the durasteel around the beast began to ebb away at her chaotic marble.

 

Lallu, is that you?

 

The voice was small, but pleasant. A pleasant ray of light in her chaotic swarm of consciousness and even in her blood raged state, the beast turned to see a small blond girl tied up and relatively unscathed.

 

Immediately perceptions rang to the forefront of the beast's mind of a similar form, black in skin, terrified in expression; abused in a state of mind and body.

 

The parallel seemed to resonate sourly in the beasts mouth for a few moments. She could taste the emotions she felt all those years ago and didn't desire the recollection. Her subconscious prisoner of sanity could curiously predict the oncoming swarm of fury and wanted to divert the flood of emotions, but she couldn't budge.

 

Help... Save me from myself....

 

The thought was small... weak...

 

Hope of any kind seemed lost...

 

Fate... inevitability...

 

A set of golden eyes appeared in her mind, outside the metaphysical cage, linking the beasts' sanity to imprisonment. A set of golden eyes that appeared to care for her fate even if its motives weren't intentional.

 

The sanity found renewed strength in the golden gaze that fell upon her and its struggling form gained presence in the beast's mind once more.

 

The control of fate seemed to be granted to her again and sanity could regain control of the beast at the cost of strength.

 

Like a brick wall springing up from the floor, the beast stopped its attack mid-leap and shuddered. Her legs were like jello and the pain seemed to flood back as an echo of what it once was. Lallu re-emerged and looked upon Rose with a somewhat timid smile, Yes, Rose... Its me.

 

The Twi'lek coughed a little, her blood surfacing from time to time to remind her of her own mortality and its fragility, but Lallu didn't care right now. She disregarded perceptions of the practicality of her own predicament, for the warm thoughts of relaxation and healing.

 

Let's get out of here...

 

_________________________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __________________________________________________ _ _ _ _ _

(5/13/2011)

 

The process was arduous and the pain so brilliant that it numbed all she could feel. The Twi'lek had vague control of her limbs as they faded in strength, but her pace was slow. She used a mixed effort of stability through the artifice of an acquired two-by four and the blond girl that walked alongside her, covered in a rag to hide her appearance from the dark of the street.

 

The vultures still lay upon the ground where Lallu left them, providing motivation for even more vultures after, to come and pick through their arrogance. Her sight did not linger upon them...

 

The world of Talus, in Lallu''s addled mind, seemed to drift away from her as the blood loss she suffered began to take over her conscious thoughts. She managed to safely lead Rose to the house and was now embraced by the warmth it provided, but she was barely a moment before she lay prone on the floor. The blond girl ran through the house in attempts to help, but a golden wisp was all Lallu saw...

 

Her heart still beat, like a whisper within the furious tides of a blizzard; a blizzard in the heat of winter, but her heart's strength wasn't long for anything...

 

Pictures... Became... Hazy...

 

Her.... though-

 

Rose...

 

Darkness clouded the weary mind and silence was all that came to greet her. She could feel warmth in the barest tips of her fingers, but it too began to drift away from her...

 

At.... least... Ros-e is safe...

 

 

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  • 1 month later...

The ship steered closer to Talus. Ason, sensing the dying down of the previous conversation, began to ponder exactly what Talus would hold for the group.

 

Sasori said:
Travis said:
Why would you side with a group that is composed of some of the largest douche criminal scum from around the world?

To annoy you.

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"Port side authority initiating orbital entry procedures. Welcome to Talus. Please remain patient while we verify your identity, and transpond-"

 

The soft female voice on the other end was cut short as Julio lazily reached forward just enough to flick the switch. He sat, or rather almost laid in the co-pilot seat, sinking ever further during their last hyperspace jump as he whittled away hours lost in thought. He just stared out the window, his left hand on his temple while he leaned slightly on his right. No words, no faint pulse of emotion the rest of the voyage. Only now at their destination did he stir.

 

If we don't respond soon they'll send up an armed escort to lead us down. Emily, go to the back and prepare for immediate departure once we land.

 

Even facing away from her he could see her face sour, feel as that little bit of ire she lost in their previous conversation rekindled at his open commands.

 

And lock the bridge door on your way out. I have something I need to discuss with your elder Brother.

 

She stood up with a defiant sneer, but followed his direction just the same. Defiance was one thing, but that out of ignorance only made him sigh heavily as she huffed out. Her little ember of discontent stirred him from his almost trance like state, and his eyes flashed open and alive. Everything sped up and slowed down in the same heartbeat, and he could feel himself being pulled apart. Here and there blurred together, and the finite seemed to have no horizon. Body and mind split in twain. Reality tore asunder.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Just as the young apprentice keyed the door shut, she heard the locks click in place from the other side. As she turned around, there stood Julio, his eyes mad with golden fire as he stared just over her head through the small circular window into the bridge. Without breaking gaze his hands flew up to catch her scream and the back of her neck before anything even registered for Emily. He had a wide, wolfish grin carved across his face, his gleaming white teeth like the gates to a malevolent secret against his dark skin. As if just behind them, on the tip of his tongue sat every secret she had been looking for. It was the face of a fervent man watching his dream come true before his eyes.

 

Slowly he looked down. Down into Emily's frightened eyes as it dons on her the ease at which he could end her life right now. His eyes still burned with a greatness she couldn't identify, and his grin still seemed to want to devour her whole.

 

Little sister. Do you want to see the birth of a titan?

 

~~~~~~~

 

As the door slid shut, Julio's left hand fell from his temple for a moment to wave the door locked. It was an odd sensation, to be honest. He felt himself slouched low in his chair, and Ason beside him, and Emily just beyond the door. But he was also aware of himself elsewhere, almost tangible in a way, but one could not be certain. Everything felt so fluid, so moving. The bridge around them felt almost aside itself as it remained a part of the whole.

 

But it mattered not. Ason felt only what he had previously. This separate sensation, Emily's odd placement at the door, even the dichotomy sat unsubstantiated in the young Lord's mind. There was a certain level of expectation in a mind. Events planned out subconsciously long before they ever come to transpire. He saw Emily leave, so he held some expectation of where she would be in the ship. He didn't see or feel any change in Julio, so a continuation of the same was expected. Understandably, one could never know exactly what was going on at all times. To the mind it is like a puzzle with a thousand pieces to put together. Some of the pieces were given, like the layout of the ship and what Emily was expected to do, and some where not, like in what order she would do these tasks in, or in what fashion. Even loosely, the mind fills in these missing pieces as best guess, what is most pragmatic given the variables.

 

The assassin held these expectations like loose threads of thought, and had turned anticipation into reality. Julio continued to slouch in the chair, Emily appeared to be off doing what was expected, and there certainly wasn't anyone on the other side of the bridge door looking in on them.

 

Brother, what are you running from?

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She didn't care to be dismissed like that, but complied, knowing it would be useless to argue with him. As she locked the door behind her and began to move aft, she wondered what the chances of her being able to jump ship here would be. Ason seemed like a decent guy, but Furion was completely unstable. She had enjoyed parts of the conversation the three had had on the journey, but she still didn't know why Furion had kidnapped her in the first place, and she wasn't keen to find out.

 

And then, all of a sudden, he was there, and his hands were around her neck ((OOC: I think...lol)), his mouth spread in a maniacal grin. She gasped with shock, but didn't have time for anything else. She realized that he wasn't even looking at her, but at the door. She had no idea how he could be in two places at once; an illusion would have no substance and wouldn't be able to grab her. For once, she did the sensible thing. She didn't struggle, but glared at him.

 

Finally, he looked down, turning the maniacal grin onto her, and for the first moment, she felt a flicker of fear. He was mad--beyond mad. Totally and utterly insane. And there was no predicting what he would do next. She put herself on edge for the slightest hint through the Force, using the technique of the Jedi danger sense, alert for any sign that her life was threatened.

 

When he spoke, his words were predictably unintelligible. "What do you mean?" she managed. "What I want right now is for you to get your hands off me." She was sick of him. He alternated between treating her with utter contempt and claiming he was giving her rare opportunities.

Emily%202015_zps34rpkjob.jpg

 

"Days in the sun...what I'd give to relive just one. Undo what's done, and bring back the light."

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Life is lived in those moments lost to perception. The tears of the solipsist slide beneath his eyes regardless of whether he sees them or not. It is the chief tragedy of the deaf, that destiny might pass them by without so much as a whisper. An ailment for which, sadly, all remedies fail...unless”¦

 

The answer could've been equal parts irrelevant and vital, hopeless and supererogatory. It was because the ultimate end of the answer was the only one which mattered, but an answer unknown is incapable of being put into use intelligently. It was a temptress who would elude Ason so long as she was a temptress and tantalize him with glimpses of what he knew of but did not know thoroughly. But she did reveal her flashes of white hot skin, and that would have to be enough.

 

 

Sasori said:
Travis said:
Why would you side with a group that is composed of some of the largest douche criminal scum from around the world?

To annoy you.

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A scarlet rose fell through an endless stream of torrential thorns. Blacker than night itself and bereft of any mercy they lifted their vice and fell ruthlessly upon the rose, tearing into the rose and breaking it apart. The crimson petals beckoned fruitlessly, struggling against bonds of shame; against bonds of weakness, but the frailty of the rose was held and the silence that answered was thick and deafening. This was its life; this was its fate.

 

It was, after a time, left to acclimate to the chill of its depth, laid bare across an ethereal dais and the moments to follow would mock peace. The impending dread hung upon the delicate flower and even in the warmth of its own thoughts, it could feel a cold hand groping its petals. It worked only for hunger, for greed. It was a monstrous thing and it would never release its own menace to give the flower peace.

 

The flower could not fight; it could not struggle and sought only to give in. It longed to forever embrace the frigid hospitality. She wanted the complete chill of her predicament to absolve herself completely and leave her with nothing, but inevitability would not be defied. The rose was left, still to be coveted; still to be abused; and still to be ignored. The dark hung heavily over her until the color of crimson faded from her petals; the green of life fell from the stem and the husk of her empty beauty was left to grace cold emptiness.

 

No peace...

 

No chaos...

 

No light...

 

No dark...

 

No Love...

 

The spirit hung in the balance, fading upon the weakness of her will, and blind from everything precious. Everything slowly drifted from her and she could no longer feel the heart of her struggle; her mind was broken and left misshapen at the feet of those who would seethe at her incompetence.

 

She rest at the pinnacle of fate and even when certainty drug her further into silence, a small tug sent perception spiraling. Passions ignited and pushed new heights of consciousness. The petals burst into red flame and pulsed violently, burning the dark hands that sought to touch, grab and hold what they never respected.

 

The flower fought her own surroundings, wrenching herself from the cold depths and destroying the infallible hands once and for all, but to what avail?

 

The flower hung silent once more, her assailants absent of their cold residence, but now”¦ With a cold irony burning deep in the sad flower's bosom, there was nothing there to hold on to. She fell quickly this time, a path of smoke trailing behind her. It was the evidence that lingered. The charred remains of the flower's passion felt like whispers on her trail and even with her path clear, she could never forget. She would never forget.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

Lallu woke abruptly, feeling her entire body immersed within a liquid she had not encountered before.

 

Her first thoughts probed it and figured it was water, but the warmth that pooled within it was alien though strangely welcoming. The peace and flexibility of her body as it regained strength was an odd feeling after such a vivid dream of weakness and death, but there was a reason she was here. There was a reason.

 

Rose

 

Without thinking, the Twi'lekk shifted quickly and a few of the mechanical implements holding her in place lurched, breaking at their fragile joints. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem, but the broken metal limbs were then pushed into her face as jets of air pushed kolto around to the mandatory areas of injury, that now felt perfectly fine.

 

In a quick flurry of movement, the Twi'lekk swung around and managed to break all of the other metal limbs around her and it became clear that she was no longer held in place.

 

So, seeing her opening, the Twi'lekk swam to the surface and worked her way over the side of the transperisteel container and onto the cold stone basement floor.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

Realization swept over Lallu's form as the sensation of water left and was replaced by an ice cold chill that embraced her entire body. She recoiled from the oppressive feeling with haste, but was supplanted by a small figure holding a towel.

 

The small robed figure was unkempt in her dark robes, but her smile was sincere for now. Her face held evidence of sleep loss and there was guilt in Lallu's mind, but something else pushed it out.

 

A feeling, not unlike a spark, popped lightly in her mind. A presence was approaching; a familiar presence.

 

She could not feel the energy within him, but something in the air seemed to stir and Lallu knew that her master was on his way.

 

...Rose...

Edited by Guest

 

 

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Please...

 

He didn't stir in his chair, nor appear to take note as Ason unsettled himself. His reaction would have been rather amusing, had it not served only to prove his point.

 

We're just talking, you and I. But look at you, all up in a fuss because I asked a question you aren't comfortable with.

 

His head almost fell to his left, as if he were half asleep. The Sith looked at his brother with dead eyes. Dull, golden eyes holding no sense of compassion for the one his gaze held.

 

You were well known in the Order when I was brought in. A well studied Krath, always beside himself in his research. You became a Lord not long after, a surprise to none. But then years went by, and all of us walked our own paths for some time. But we come back to us now, and here I sit a Master of my art, you still where you stood so many years ago.

 

Whether you are aware of it or not, brother, you have been holding yourself back for some time. You've triumphed over great enemies, struggled with decisions heavier than most souls will ever weigh, you've looked past the veil and held power in your hands, but you've never pushed yourself. You walk a tenebrous path, but you dare not step wholly into the darkness.

 

Attention was drawn outside the ship. Not so much a sound, or trick of perception. This feeling called from the very bottom of Ason's heart, one he had neglected for a long, long time. Urgency ushered itself into their awareness and Julio quickly turned to look out into the vast blue sphere of Talus before them. His expression remained hollow, sunken, but his eyes mirrored some far off light like a cat, even in the dim illumination of the bridge.

 

Are you afraid? Taking the step off the ledge can indeed be quite....exhilarating. A step away from what we know, who we presently are into something we can only dream of.

 

The ship continued to drift slowly toward Talus until the great blue sphere massed out the night sky and began to envelop them.

 

This is something you can not simply anticipate, or calculate. This is a step into the future, the necessary continuation of your path. I would rather you take this step yourself, but I feel you've shied from it for so long you've forgotten what it entails. You've forgotten your faith.

 

Julio turned to Ason, light still mirrored in his eyes. The reflection was of Ason's own soul, in twain between the Master's two eyes.

 

I can show you, or you can continue hiding from yourself.

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Furion's words lingered for a second as though time were freezing them, keeping them in the air even after they should've fallen to the floor. It was true that Ason had been a Lord longer than many masters had even been in the order. This could lead the spectators to many an explanation, and the plethora of assumptions could only add to that mystery attributed to him that the Krath valued so much. Still, to not respond to this man would be a great miscarriage of justice.

 

He almost told the assassin to forgive his precautions and that he would have to understand, but he stopped himself. The words were redundant. The sorcerer began with a resolute voice that shattered those frigid syllables as though there were never a pause.

 

"I have seen acolytes pass into masterhood before my eyes, but I've found that I admired very few of them. When I discovered they weren't all like Dagon and Oblivion, I quickly grew disenfranchised with titles. Perhaps that is one cause of the phenomenon."

 

His voice grew stronger after the qualification.

 

"But my career has been marked by bursts of productivity and then periods of what has been mistakenly taken as stagnation by others. Those withdrawals into the recesses of darkness have birthed my greatest revelations. They were a necessary indolence. I would be active and see this fetid thing floundering. I'd feel it dragging me like a decrepit relative, draining my resources so that it might continue dragging me tomorrow."

 

"I had to escape, and in that escape I had to rediscover every time something new to keep me going. I've only known tactical retreat, not running. It wasn't until death that I've finally found a way to sustain myself. I no longer need to swallow that blue pill. I've finally discovered that decrepit relative is of no relation to me, and have given myself permission to kill it."

 

"I am thankful for it. It is those gaps I found God, and it was because it was so difficult for my mind to wrap myself around the idea of him separate from his subjects that I am more solid than ever. God needs not the worship of unworthy plebeian masses. He needs not the company of the false deities."

 

"So to respond more directly: it would be unjust to accuse me of forgetting my faith. I have just become my faith. There may be a semantic disagreement between us as to what that constitutes, but the substance is nearly identical."

 

He paused for a second. Breathed. Spoke.

 

"Lead the way Brother."

 

Sasori said:
Travis said:
Why would you side with a group that is composed of some of the largest douche criminal scum from around the world?

To annoy you.

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  • 4 weeks later...

As Emily kept struggling for air, she readied a Force wave to push him--if he was real and not a phantom--off of her. In that moment, she had an instant where she realized truth; an epiphany that was extremely startling. She wanted to go home. And home meant back to her master. She hadn't realized that she missed learning from him. After all, she was still mad at him, wasn't she? But she couldn't deny, as much as she partially wanted to, that she wanted him here.

 

With effort, she pushed the revelation aside and prepared to Force push this mad Sith off of her before she suffocated.

 

((You still there, Furion?))

Emily%202015_zps34rpkjob.jpg

 

"Days in the sun...what I'd give to relive just one. Undo what's done, and bring back the light."

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  • 1 month later...

Finally, Emily had had enough. She let loose the wave of the Force. It caught Furion's phantom off-guard, and in that split second, she saw her chance. She darted away, using the Force to enhance her speed. She darted to where she had left her things then dashed out of the now-open hatch.

 

Furion made no pursuit, and she slowed down to a brisk walk. She wondered at his lack of a response at first; after all, he had kidnapped her and brought her here. But eventually, she came to the conclusion that he must simply think her a fool not worth bothering with anymore. She glowered as she walked. It didn't matter. The man was insane, and Emily wouldn't stay near him for a million credits.

 

It was not far to the main spaceport. Emily had no immediate plans but to get away. She had a credit chit in her bag, so it was a simple enough matter for her to book passage on a ship. She didn't even care where it was going. A series of security checkpoints later where she had to use the Force to ensure her mother's lightsaber wasn't confiscated, and she was in a seat, bound for, she soon discovered, Sullust. Well, it didn't matter. She would figure out what to do when she got there.

 

The ship rose off of Talus and made it's way to the outskirts of the Corellian system. Emily, lost in thought, hadn't noticed the handsome man a few years older than her who had taken a seat beside her until he spoke. "Running away from home?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

 

She turned, about to give an angry retort, when she was suddenly struck with a sense of familiarity. He looked like Nishant. In her vulnerable state of mind, it was a painful recollection, and just enough to take the edge out of her. "Still looking for home," she replied softly.

Emily%202015_zps34rpkjob.jpg

 

"Days in the sun...what I'd give to relive just one. Undo what's done, and bring back the light."

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  • 2 months later...

A year or two had passed on Talus, with still no sign of Furion. Not even his vessel came in sight of the complex and before nightfall the very same day she was promised his return, Lallu let loose a scream that shattered the windows of several houses in roughly a mile radius. It was unbearable for Lallu, because her master had always been there for her and for him to be gone, was unthinkable. She felt emptiness in her soul and sobbed more than her share of tears for several weeks.

 

Rose did her best to comfort the Twi’lekk, but Lallu needed to be alone. She needed to expend her emotions in her own way and didn't wish to hurt Rose if she lost control. She would sequester herself in the underground chambers of the house for several weeks after that, tearing through useless furniture in a passionate flurry of emotion. Splinters of wood and warped pieces of plastasteel fell about the floor with reckless abandon with each strike and she could feel the power of her emotions pulsing through her body and fueling each movement. She was a fighter possessed and her movements had a will of their own, but in the light of her fury, she found an interest in the profound sensations she felt in each strike. Although the object of her exercise didn't call for focus, but for a means of venting her excess emotions, she couldn't help but notice the transition.

 

She could feel the swell of power flow within her as if it came from another place in her mind and over time, she began to understand the fabric of what Furion and the other Sith practiced. She didn’t really feel like she could decipher the meat of their powers, but she could feel her master's words echoing around her every time she moved, controlling her; guiding her movements. Before long, honing this ability became a way to get closer to her master, or at least her master's teachings and this, in and of itself, provided her sufficient motivation to move forward.

 

This discovery led to months of fighting practice. Lallu, sometimes with the help of Rose, would take large sacks filled with rice or flour grains down into the lower levels of the structure and use them as dummies in her combat demonstrations and skirmishes.

 

First she would start with hand-to-hand to see the visceral responses she could learn from throwing her emotions into each punch and kick. This experiment turned out almost exactly like she planned, but blew up a few times in her face and ended up dislocating her shoulders and hips a few times. It wasn’t so much that a trip to the bacta tank and auto-doc weren’t enough to fix her, but the pain supplied more motivation. She didn’t let her motivation go. She eventually managed to quicken her hands and feet in small intervals, because she felt any more power would cause the ability to transition quickly into levels of destabilization.

 

Next, Lallu moved on to knife practice and by that time she had begun putting her name out in a few discreet channels on the planet for small odd jobs. She needed to provide for Rose now that she was alone and they had low reserve money in their bank account. It was an easy fix, but if Lallu was to do mercenary work, she needed to know how to kill more effectively. So she worked on focusing her emotions some more and using them to recreate an ability she previously experienced in one of her tantrums. She knew enhancing her senses would work, because it had happened before, but after a few failed experiments in that realm she had only managed to gain some control. Her knife work began improving though and as time went on she integrated her dancing into her knife work and developed a fighting style that worked with knives, knife throwing and dancing.

 

 

There were a few accidental tantrums like before, when Lallu would explode in a fiery ball of anger damaging herself and anyone nearby, but Lallu was learning to avoid these by spending more and more time pushing her emotions out in practice. The more she expressed her emotions and pushed them through her body, the less emotional build up she had to let out and therefore Lallu had no reason to explode. This training regimen became the norm for her and over time her mental ailment began to fade away until Lallu was in control of her mental and physical faculties.

 

_____________________________________________________________

 

 

The dust that lay upon the stone gripped the cloth of her shoes as she ran full tilt at her assailant. Then, when her pursuit climbed toward the proximity of her target, the Twi’lekk sprung from the ground and flipped in the air, letting loose a knife and catching the broadside of her victim’s neck, spraying white dust everywhere. But she wasn’t done yet.

 

Lallu caught the floor with both feet and rolled away, panting as she went. Then, she pushed herself back to her feet in one smooth motion, turned around and used the strength of her hips to send one more knife at her mark’s chest, which caused the mark in question to explode in a huge puff of white powder.

 

The Twi’lekk paused, poised to strike the final blow at her target, but within a few seconds, the flour sack ceased up and fell to the floor, spraying its contents all over the stone.

 

Rose smiled a little over in the corner, due to the humor in killing a flour bag, but Lallu ignored her. It wasn’t that she didn’t find it funny too, but she was trying to work for something; she was trying to work toward something and this just wasn’t cutting it for her any more.

 

And that's the question, isn't it? Who are you? What do you want?...

 

You don't have the answers. And I will be honest with you, as I will always be. I don't have those answers either. It is something only you can discover. But I can show you the way. I can show you how to see yourself for who you really

 

The path I am on is dangerous, and uncertain. You may question my methods and my choices. You will certainly question my intent, but I will tell you this only once. You will know both what I tell you, and what you can figure out for yourself. Never expect me to tell you everything. Follow me, and I will lead you to the freedom your heart craves

Edited by Guest

 

 

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  • 1 year later...

((I may be misremembering some of the events of the Arach'tar takeover of Centerpoint Station. It shouldn't affect this post, as its largely background.))

 

Years ago, a battle of mythological proportions had been fought in the Corellia system at Centerpoint Station. For the first and only time in their history, the combined forces of the Rebel Alliance and Galactic Empire set aside their differences to unite against a common foe: the biomechanical species known as the Arach’tar. After a number of skirmishes, the war ended in a climactic struggle between the worlds of Talus and Tralus, when the combined fleets stormed Centerpoint Station in an attempt to stop the transgalactic invaders from using the space station’s tremendously powerful tractor beams for destructive ends.

 

It had taken nearly everything that the galaxy had to offer to drive off the Arach’tar, from the combined fleets and their special forces, to the combined arms of the Jedi and Sith Orders, a number of operatives from the galaxy’s less-than-legitimate organizations, and a few handy inventions that had been spawned from the mind of Armiena Draygo. Among these were her work on the superweapon Hammer of God—though her contribution to that work was relatively minor—and even more peripherally, the war machines that she had given to the Rebel Alliance, the Wolf Spiders.

 

Although the eight-legged walkers were originally designed to serve as mechanical guardians of Jedi Temples, she quickly realized their potential for destruction and offered a slightly downgraded version of their design to the Jedi Order. Downgraded, meaning that their original Phrikite-alloy armor was substituted for standard-issue durasteel plating—not quite as potent as Phrik alloy for certain purposes, but much cheaper… and most Imperial soldiers weren’t in the practice of bringing lightsabers into battle. The Wolf Spiders were intended to be the Rebellion’s answer to the AT-AT and other walkers, though they sacrificed some of those walkers’ armor and transport capability for firepower and maneuverability. That was to say nothing of what was perhaps their greatest strength: the fact that each unit was equipped with an advanced artificial intelligence that allowed it to operate independently without a sentient pilot.

 

They played an instrumental role at Centerpoint Station, operating as flying batteries in the midst of the indigenous fleets. Due to their talent for coordinating with each other, they were able to overwhelm many vessels in the Arach’tar fleet with closely timed salvos that left them easy targets for the galactic fleet to finish off. Of course, just like the fleet captained by sentient beings, the Wolf Spiders had suffered severe casualties throughout the battle. However, there was a chance that a few of them had merely been crippled and, in the clean-up operations after the battle, had been missed while the Rebellion and Empire scrambled to rescue survivors.

 

Reflecting on the mistakes of the recent past, Armiena realized that she should have come back years ago to make her own search. Maybe, just maybe, her survivors had lasted all this time without maintenance or refueling.

 

Directly between the orbits of Talus and Tralus, a civilian salvage corvette, the Exhumer, flashed out of hyperspace. Its pilot, Armiena Draygo, groggily awoke from her nap. Somehow she had managed to miss the initial alarm that signaled the Exhumer’s re-entry into realspace and only noticed when the shrill klaxon began blaring at a nearly deafening volume. She rolled her green eyes in exasperation—clearly, she had been out of militarized spacecraft for far too long and grown out of her old habit of being prepared to come to full alertness only seconds after the sounding of an alarm. To make matters worse, this was a civilian ship through and through, with many creature comforts that were a rarity on military ships. The deceleration from hyperspace was much more gentle than on her old gunship, the Ghost Breath, or any of the starfighters that she had piloted in the past.

 

The Exhumer was not a nimble craft by any means, but even the veteran warrior had to admit, the corvette possessed a different kind of grace when navigating in the environment in which it specialized. It was slow to accelerate—no doubt another “feature” for the civilian market—but over wide sectors of open space, it could accelerate up to an impressive velocity. Furthermore, the craft was pockmarked with hardpoints all over its hull, to the point that it resembled an anorexic bumblebee with a bad case of acne, which were equipped with laser cutters, tractors, directional thrusters, and all number of graspers and hacking equipment. Even if the Exhumer couldn’t pull off the jaw-dropping, what-the-frack-how-did-you-just-fit-through-that-spitstorm maneuvers that her personal Switchblade was capable of, this bulbous corvette could dance through a debris field with grace. The grace of a thranta with an eating disorder, but grace nonetheless.

 

Over the next hour, the Exhumer slowly built up speed and Armiena continued to send off the periodic reports that aerospace control demanded of civilian craft, occasionally passing by a scrap of debris that hadn’t been picked up by scavengers. Most were insignificant: an abandoned starfighter scrap that was in a safe orbit with Tralus, or a lost rivet or some other tiny bit of metal that wouldn’t be detected at a respectable range. Gradually, however, she made her way to the graveyard surrounding the Centerpoint Station ruins.

 

Here the debris was much thicker, although scavengers must have picked apart every last wreck for what salvage was worth stealing. The Exhumer spotted the occasional wreck of a Star Destroyer or Mon Cal cruiser in the distance through its visual scanners, but the vast majority of the hulks were those of lighter craft—mostly anti-starfighter frigates and corvettes. There were no Arach’tar hulls left, she noted—undoubtedly hauled away intact for study. Almost every hulk was stripped completely bare, with some of the Star Destroyers reduced to kilometer-long amalgamations of external armor plates and girders. None of the hulls gave off any power readings—scavengers had obviously sought fit to relieve them of their reactors—or life signs, or any sign of activity.

 

Carefully poking the blunt nose of her rented salvage ship through the debris field with minute bursts from her thrusters, the Exhumer’s sensors finally picked up what she was searching for. It was a weak signal, as the droid’s carcass had been languishing in the graveyard for years at this point and its power plant had nearly decayed in the extreme conditions of open vacuum, but the war machine still had enough power to broadcast a local Identify Friend/Foe signal. It was admirable, really, that even after years of sitting abandoned in the space trash surrounding what used to be Centerpoint Station, the battle droid had never completely given up hope of rescue.

 

Inquisitor, one of the first Wolf Spider battle droids that had come out of the foundry in the mountains of the Jedi Temple at Phu, was still alive, even if just barely. However, the war machine must have had visitors over the last few years, for the ship’s sensors detected a fresh wreck only a few kilometers away from the crippled Wolf Spider—another treasure hunter, undoubtedly, but one that had failed to grasp the destructive potential of her creations. Though the mech had had most of its legs blown clean away and half of its command pod had been caramelized by plasma fire, it was clearly still capable of defending itself.

 

Still threading through the wreckage with careful maneuvers, Armiena gradually made her way to the multi-legged chassis of the abandoned battle droid. Though experienced in navigating environments even more hostile than this one, where it was only a minor exaggeration that the entire galaxy seemed to be trying to kill her, this salvage corvette was a completely unfamiliar beast to her expert hands. Flying the Exhumer was like trying to pilot one of her Wolf Spiders. Worse, really, because those metal hulks were all equipped with artificial intelligences to assist the directives of its pilot—or act independently as unmanned war machines. Yes, the controls of in the cockpit of the Wolf Spiders were somewhat clumsy and had terrible ergonomics, but the AI was clever enough to grasp the intentions of its pilot and make up for Human deficits. There was no such luxury in the Exhumer. The unfamiliar avionics scheme made for slow and clumsy flight, and collision alerts were blaring every few seconds.

 

“This is Jedi Master Armiena Darkfire.” The corvette’s pilot broadcast an old Jedi IFF signal that the Ghost Breath was equipped with. “Any surviving forces, please respond. I repeat…” Armiena Draygo repeated the phrase as the gangly industrial craft loomed closer, nearly bouncing into the viewport of some destroyed battlecruiser’s bridge that failed to register on the ship’s sensors. Cursing in the middle of her monologue, she slammed on the corvette’s emergency reverse, which directed all of its maneuvering thrusters forward and decelerated the craft so fiercely that the expert pilot needed to fight to keep her face from bouncing into the control surfaces before her.

 

Armiena engaged the ship’s tractors and seized the plate of transparisteel. Another careful adjustment of the control swiveled the craft in place, so she could release the debris to drift away into void of the debris field.

 

That caught the battle droid’s attention. Through both the Force and the Exhumer’s salvaging sensors, Armiena detected a power surge from its mangled chassis and alarms began blaring all over the cockpit.

 

“Hold fire, Inquisitor! It’s Darkfire!” Armiena’s fingers clenched over the comm. unit on her belt, broadcasting a unique signal from the device. The gadget, which Armiena had designed during her tenure as Jedi Grandmaster, blasted forth her identity as well as an old security clearance code—the last one that this Wolf Spider would have had access to. The metal disc attached its own electronic tag to the transmission, verifying that it had been sent from her own, individualized Council transmitter.

 

The transmission was extremely authentic, almost impossible to mimic, in fact. Only a few of them—less than ten--had ever been built. All of them had been shared by her Council. To her knowledge, none of them had fallen into the hands of the enemy—even more unlikely was the possibility that a civilian would have come to possess one of them and puzzled out its function and bypass its Force-sensitive security protocols. As far as anyone knew, only the Jedi Council towards the end of the Civil War ever made use of these devices. Undoubtedly the Wolf Spider was running that calculation through its processors.

 

About two seconds passed before the alarms shut off and the vocalized alerts from the control surfaces were silenced. Armiena gave a little smile to herself. That artificial, Imperial-accented female voice was about to get annoying.

 

Text began to materialize from the controls, a communique from the Wolf Spider. Undoubtedly the war machine was terribly damaged or was running perilously low on power reserves, because they were capable of vocal communication.

 

Inquisitor reporting for duty, Master Darkfire. Although my body lies broken on the field of glorious battle, I stand prepared to serve.

 

“I know, Inquisitor. I’m sorry. It’s been far too long.” Another mistake to regret, creating scores of artificial intelligences to win the war against the Empire… and then abandoning them and expecting them to rust quietly in the background. “I’m going to get you home. Can your chassis withstand hyperspace travel?”

 

Running diagnostics… I am embarrassed to report in the negative. My remaining limbs are too badly damaged to survive a jump into hyperspace. The emergency jettison charges have decayed.

 

“I can cut them free and carry you in the cargo hold. Shut it, Inquisitor!” Armiena snapped as the droid began to utter protestations… something about being allowed an honorable burial on the field of victory and similar warrior honor nonsense. “I’m going to get you out of here and into a new body, and then I’m going to find you and all of your brothers a new home. I’ll have none of this fallen warrior tragedy and Draygo pyrotechnic burial among the stars. Got it?”

 

All I ask is to serve.

 

Armiena rolled her eyes and decided to take that response as an affirmation. Swiveling her chair, the Alderaanian diverted her attention to a set of joysticks, camera feeds, and other controls that dictated the activity of the Exhumer’s beam cutters and other salvaging equipment. Now came the delicate work of severing the control pod of the Wolf Spider from its crippled legs—delicate, as she was deliberately being overcautious with the operation. These high-power beams could slice through armor-quality steel as surely as a lightsaber—in the case of the Phrik-alloy of this war machine, much more effectively—and supposedly could be wielded like a AI-assisted scalpel in the hands of an expert. Armiena, being a total novice, felt like she was preforming surgery while wearing giant foam fingers on both of her hands and gnawed on her lower lip with trepidation as she watched the camera feeds attached to the beam emitters.

 

One by one, however, the pulverized legs were cut away and drifted lazily away from the chassis of the robotic walker. Armiena seized them with the Exhumer’s tractors and guided them into the salvage corvette’s cargo bay, soon to be followed by the mandible-jawed command pod of the Wolf Spider.

 

“All snug and secure, Inquisitor?

 

This berth will suffice.

 

“Good. Next stop, Phu, then we get you into a new body and back in the company of your brothers.”

 

After reading the first few lines of Inquisitor’s response, Armiena ignored the rest and focused on navigating out of the wreckage field surrounding Centerpoint Station. It was sufficient to describe the transmission as enthusiastic, eloquent, and more than a little bit bellicose. Having already plotted out a route through the graveyard, this journey was much less eventful, and the cockpit was soon filled with the eerie glow of hyperspace.

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  • 3 years later...

A group of Mando'ade arrived on Talus in multiple ships and quickly descended toward one of the hospitals.

 

Mirdala had slipped into a healing trance during the flight, one of the techniques she'd known before but Kirlocca had helped her improve, and it make a big difference in helping keep her stable in transit. Kandor had not said a word to anyone since they'd left Nubia, nor had he removed his buy'ce. He did manage to get 2277's head wired into the Justice and operational again enough that the beskar'ad could handle the piloting duties; this enabled him to remain near Mirdala, monitoring her vitals and quietly helping Nek in any way he could.

 

The Omicron doctor directed 2277 to an emergency landing pad attached to the hospital, and they hurried Mirdala on her hovercart into the building proper. A Devaronian woman was there to meet them and seemed to take charge. When Kandor gave Nek a look, the Bothan-looking clone nodded reassuringly. "I trust her... she's my wife. Yours is strong as well, have faith in her, too."

 

Kandor knew that Nek was right, and he had no doubts about Mirdala's survival. He knew from experience just how tough she was... he just wished she hadn't had to prove it so many times.

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Nek, for the most part, left Kandor his space. Even if the other man didn't want to admit it, Kandor was every bit Nek's patient as Mirdala was. Even through her pain, the Omicron doctor could sense the deeper connection between the two of them, two raw halves to the same whole. It hadn't taken him long to put it together that the two had married sometime since he'd left them on Corellia a few short weeks ago. They'd had to shut poor Vi'ika in one of the cabins so she wouldn't be underfoot.

 

He ushered Kandor to the waiting room in the high-security corridor, easily getting waved past security since they knew him here. It wasn't ten minutes before they were joined by the other three team members, helmets-in-arms.

 

"Sarge is en route," Orsai quietly stated to Nek as Soresh and Vy'ika took a seat.

 

"Good, that will help matters. I'm going to go scrub in and assist my wife with her surgeries," Nek remarked, glancing again at the unmoving form of Kandor.

 

Part of him felt it would be better to stay and help the man, but from what he knew of Fett appearing to do anything less than he could for Mirdala would be met with even higher resistance in getting the standard clone to open up. Lowering his voice he added to Orsai, "Keep an eye on him. Get him talking if you can, I'll take any reaction honestly. He's family now, at least to her."

 

The KDY Security Specialist nodded grimly as the doctor departed.

 

Vy'ika continued to stare at the ceiling above where the surgical suites were located doing his best to hold his silence about things, silently willing his little sister to be alright, not even knowing the full extent of her injuries.

 

Soresh paced back and forth, his own emotions warring within himself. Wondering if Mirdala would still have been in this state if he'd merely admitted his feelings for her all those years ago. He snorted slightly in disgust. "What the hell did you do?" He shot in Kandor's direction, eyes narrowed. "I told you to have her back!"

 

"Watch it kid," Orsai warned. "You don't want to do this now."

 

Mirdala's former training partner and childhood friend shook his head. "Didn't he promise to keep her safe from all the crap you guys are out there fighting? How is it she's grabbed in one of the safest kriffing districts in Coronet City? You knew she was being hunted, and yet...here we are. Don't you even care?"

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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Fett sat numbly on a bench in the hallway, buy'ce still on, head tilted toward the ground, hearing everything going on around him but barely processing it. Nothing really seemed to be real at this point but the pain, although he had made it through the fight without so much as a scratch on his body. It didn't seem right.

 

Then Soresh started. At first, Kandor did not react. The CorSec agent was right, after all. He had failed Mirdala in his single most critical duty and the entire pretense for their stay on Corellia. But Soresh's last words struck a nerve, and the anger he'd been struggling to bury came swiftly and fully back in an instant.

 

Fett sprung to his feet and slammed Soresh into the far wall, then grabbed the younger man by the edges of his flak jacket and threw him bodily back at the bench from which he'd risen. "Shabii'gar," he swore, his first word since arriving. The inside of his visor had fogged up and the environmental controls kicked in to compensate. "She's my wife!"

 

He moved on the CorSec officer again. Down the hallway, a hospital security staff member saw what was happening and moved toward the Mando'ade, but Orsai moved to head him off. On some level, this needed to happen.

 

Soresh rose, bringing his fists up and attempted to throw a hit, but Kandor was faster, stronger, and his instincts were too well trained. He blocked the attack and dealt another one out, planting a strike square on Soresh's chestplate and putting him back down onto the bench.

 

"Stay there and ne'johaa," Fett said, and now he was the one pacing, trying to rein in his anger but not at all certain he could keep going without it.

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((Kandor translations from the previous post - "Screw you!" (only stronger...) and "Shut up!"))

 

The look on Soresh's face was a study in shock, even before Kandor slammed into him, bodily tossing him across the small room. All at once the anger vanished from him as he hit the bench. Orsai was right, he did regret goading Kandor, but he was too proud to admit it in that moment.

 

"What now?" Vy'ika opened one eye and looked at Kandor's pacing form.

 

"Doesn't matter Verdeyuii," TeVerd's remarked as he came around the corner, leveling his gaze at Kandor. "I'm sure they were going to tell us eventually." The Ageless had jumped on the first craft he could get his hands on and made for Nubia, only to get the call from Nek that they'd be diverting to Talus once they completed the extraction.

 

He didn't need any sort of empathic connection with Kandor, indeed he had none, to know that the man was in more pain than he'd ever felt before and clearly wasn't sure what to do with it. His short-lived scuffle with Soresh had done little to dim his anger it seemed. "What's happened has happened," TeVerd began, less addressing Kandor and more the whole group, considering he knew that Vy'ika was also restraining himself from picking a fight in order to vent his own frustrations.

 

"Trying to assign blame gets us, and Mirdala nowhere. Even I couldn't be there to protect her every time I wanted to." His jaw clenched in a similar manner to one Kandor had seen on Mirdala any time she was biting back saying something. "It's a chance we all take. What matters now is how we move forward from here. As a family."

 

"She feels just as guilty as you do Kandor, possibly more so." He turned to Orsai, "I assume there's some sort of recording on the devices you pulled? We know he had cameras based on the transmission he sent Kandor."

 

"Haven't had a chance to look, Sarge," the Omicron shrugged.

 

"Didn't expect you to have had any, just bringing it up for anyone that might want to turn their anger towards something constructive," He looked at Soresh, who had the good grace to duck his head before scooping up his helmet and heading back towards the ships.

 

TeVerd settled in Soresh's vacated seat and watched Kandor pace for a few minutes, knowing that the best thing he could do to help his daughter right now was to help his new son-in-law process through his emotions in whatever way the man needed. Reaching into his belt pouch, he took out a few small electronic "screamers" to prevent any listening in on the conversations within that room. "Talk me through it Kandor. Consider this your debrief. What happened?" His voice was calm, level, and every bit of the training sergeant he'd been for much of his life in one form or another.

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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TeVerd's admission succeeded in taking the edge off of Kandor's rage and guilt, a sign of how he had come to respect the Ageless in the last few months. Had it not always been his philosophy to accept the past in its immutability and instead look forward, rebuilding himself as necessary? He sat back down on the bench, forcing himself to glance ahead at the future he wanted. Mirdala was still alive, and that was the most important thing. They could still beat Ab'ki, and the data they'd stolen from Viba could considerably help that. He could still build his organization after it was all done. He was still Moon Knight, and he was a Mand'alor that finally belonged to an aliit... TeVerd was now his father-in-law, Vy'ika and several of the others his vode.

 

It did not sate the pain of losing their son from the vision they'd shared, nor make the thought of these next weeks of recovery from the ordeal any more appetizing. But Mirdala needed him. She needed to know that she carried no blame for this, and she needed him to support her. He would not shy away from that responsibility... he would bring out the best in her, however that looked.

 

Kandor removed his buy'ce. His face was still flushed but it was returning to its normal color. He looked calm, but his thousand-yard stare betrayed his numbness. He took another couple breaths before starting, and when he spoke, his voice was even. "Mirdala trained with Master Kirlocca for two weeks," he said. " A few days after he left, we decided to relocate from Corellia, and she went out for a quick supply run this morning. She didn't come back, and when I went looking for her Viba called. The shabuir is dead, but... he did a lot of damage. Mirdala said he was responsible for killing Jorbe and Cyare. He took from us the ade we might some day have raised. And all the while, he was my own dar'buir I had thought dead twenty years."

 

He wiped his hand over his face. "That's all I know. Perhaps the recording will have more."

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TeVerd looked at Kandor for a long time, empathizing with the man far more than Kandor realized. His own life had been sent down an unexpected trajectory when centuries before either Mirdala's or Kandor's parents were born, the one woman he'd loved died in his arms and any future the two of them had together evaporated into a cold rage that led him down the path to becoming a Seeker. A path that had brought him not just the Omicrons he'd brought up and trained, but Mirdala as well.

 

"You don't know that for certain Kandor. Perhaps any she might have carried herself, but there's more than one path to parenthood I find. I know it doesn't make the loss any less, and it's probably the last thing you want to hear right now. It doesn't make them any less yours." He rested a massive hand on Kandor's shoulder and began pacing himself as he waited to hear news of his daughter's condition.

 

-------

 

Several hours later Nek stepped into the waiting room, looking grim. "She's out," he began still carefully clinging to his professional detachment, though just barely. "Kandor, a moment?"

 

As the two men walked off to the side, Nek put his hand on the other's shoulder. "She's with my wife in post-op and you can wait with her in a moment. There was a lot of damage done, both before and what Viba recently did. Her healing trance may have saved her life, but her body's natural healing complicated some things including our ability to repair the damage done to her womb." He sighed, knowing from Mirdala's reactions before the trance the two of them had been hoping for a son of their own at some point in their future. "There's no easy way to say this. It's astronomically improbable that she'll ever be able to conceive and carry to term. I'm sorry."

 

-------

 

She didn’t want to open her eyes, all she wanted was the blissful blackness that had been the dreamless sleep. From the sound of the equipment around her, and the general noise outside the door of the room she realized she’d likely been taken to the nearest hospital Nek trusted. Attempting one of the many meditations Kirlocca had attempted to teach her for re-centering and peace, she found it to be of little comfort and a fruitless exercise, mainly because she didn’t want to be comforted, not truly.

 

There were no words to describe the pain she was in, the hell. Sure she was more or less comfortable from a physical pain standpoint, but there was nothing in the galaxy that could dull the sharp and stabbing ache in her heart or the memory of the knife plunging through her womb. She was also getting tired of waking up in medical beds in unusual places.

 

Kandor

 

Part of her called out to him, but an equal part wasn’t ready to face her husband just yet. It broke her heart that he felt that any of this was his fault. She was the one that fell for the trap. She was the one that smarted off to his obviously unstable father, the same man that had taken her own parents from her.

 

It’s not your fault, my love.

 

Her mind was still reeling from all that had unfolded while she’d been at the tender mercies of Judyc Viba. She wondered how Kandor was processing everything, especially the fact that his father had so brutally attacked the woman he loved. His pain felt just as raw as hers did as she reached out quietly through the Force and through whatever bond they shared.

 

She felt a hand on hers, the familiar calluses from hours of practice with various weapons told her it was Kandor’s. Her heart wretched again as she tried to piece together how they could begin to get past this together. Kirlocca had mentioned dark trials, had he foreseen this or a similar future in which one or both of them hadn’t survived?

 

Thinking of Force visions tore at her heart as she recalled the mental image of Kandor with their son at the kitchen table, training him as a boy…

 

She let out a strangled sob as she wondered at the cruelness of the Force for showing her and Kandor such hope only to have it literally ripped from them less than a day later. She didn’t need Nek to tell her the diagnosis, she’d felt the truth within her own body as it worked to fight the infection that had already started to set in, her body encasing the sliver of the knife in a protective layer of scar tissue to guard against further damage than had already been done. That coupled with what had been done to her by the slavers…

 

Finally opening her eyes she could just manage to make out a similar pain in the deep brown of her husband’s. Seeing him like that finally broke her as she could no longer hold back the tears. For now, there was no anger, only sorrow and sadness, though, she knew the rage would come back in time. “I’m so sorry…"

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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In the hours that had passed, the Omicrons managed to dig out the recording from the files they'd stolen from Judyc and watched the conversations between Mirdala and her captor. It was both fascinating and harrowing to hear the true story of how Kandor had come about, to realize that in some ways he had a dead mother that he'd never met. But what stuck out more than the content of the stories, however, was Judyc's utter cruelty, the briefest moment where he looked as though there could be a noble man buried in his calloused heart completely erased by his sociopathic willingness to make Mirdala suffer both physically and emotionally. Nek's words only served to confirm what seemed inevitable.

 

It all made Kandor more certain of the words he needed to say to his riduur now, even as he fought to retrain his composure in the face of her tears. "Cyar'ika," he said. "What Ab'ki has done is on Ab'ki's head. What Lura did is on Lura's head. What Viba has done is on his."

 

He gripped her hand. "What was done cannot be undone, but this is not the end of us. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

 

He would not allow that demagolka to win from beyond the grave.

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The hospital turned out to be one which Nek's wife ran, so they were able to stay until both of them signed off on Mirdala's physical health enough to travel. Between the bacta treatments and Mirdala's own healing trances, it was only a matter of days before that occurred.

 

As Mirdala changed out her hospital gown and into some basic civilian clothes, TeVerd and Kandor stood in the hallway, waiting. "Have you thought about what your plans are while the rest of us handle the data work?"

 

"Myrkr," Mirdala said opening the door. "It safe enough. The Force isn't something I need to be tapping into at the moment."

 

Her father raised an eyebrow at her, gently probing her through their empathic bond and feeling the spiky shards of emotion that lie just beneath the carefully cultivated calmness that she'd built up and forced herself to maintain out of sheer will the last few days. "Seems a prudent choice, though I don't recommend the two of you going alone." He held his hand up sensing her protest. "The both of you are still hurting and the last thing you need is to be in that wilderness at less than your best, even in full armor. Take Vy'ika and Cinva with you as back up. He's even volunteered as a punching bag if need be. Seems to think it's not a good idea for the newlyweds to potentially exorcise those raw emotions on each other. I'm inclined to agree with him."

 

He felt the sharpness rise in Mirdala before her head won out in the end. "Fine."

 

TeVerd gathered her in his arms and hugged her fiercely, though still careful since her body was still on the mend to some degree, then kissed the top of her head and added. "Believe it or not, he's been known to understand the meaning of discretion from time to time. He can meet you there."

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Ke barjurir gar'ade, jagyc'ade kot'la a dalyc'ade kotla'shya. - "Train your sons to be strong but your daughters to be stronger."

“A Mandalorian woman's greatest talent is not her charm or beauty, but her strength of body and will.” - Mandalorian proverb

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The last couple days had been slow. Kandor spent as much time with Mirdala as the hospital staff would allow, though much of it was spent in silence. At times he tried to contribute to some downtime tasks like working on decrypting and searching through the data they'd pulled from Viba's safehouse, but he wasn't very productive. About the best thing he was able to do was order a new droid body for 2277 and have it delivered to the Justice so that he could eventually repair the beskar'ad. It seemed that any sense of normalcy was but a fragile facsimile attempting to mask a very real pain that both demanded and deserved any attention that could be spared.

 

Kandor was glad when Mirdala was finally released so that they could get out of this place, and he found the idea of Myrkr appropriate. Firstly it offered them a practical objective -- his ysalamiri count had depleted over the time since they'd last been there, at this point his last one all the way on Tatooine in the Temple of the Moon, and he wanted to have some available as the threat of Ab'ki loomed. The aggressive vornskrs there gave them the possibility of a manageable challenge to pit themselves against, and intellectually he knew that a fight could help lift them both out of their grief- and injury-induced torpor.

 

But even beyond that, it was a place that they had gone after the hospital on Ryloth to recover from another set of deep scars, in those days just discovering for the first time how it would look for them to be more than hunt partners.

 

At first he thought they didn't need Vy'ika, but even if he was just an extra hand he would be helpful, and another member of the aliit being there could help them both sort through things.

 

He had already started to feel a little better just by wrapping his head around a task by the time they reached the Justice, informing Vy'ika that they were heading out. The hyperspace jump would be more than a day, and he wished it were shorter, but at least they would be together.

 

Soon they were off.

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  • 1 year later...

Starlines collapsed into points of light around the Open Road as it exited hyperspace over the binary planets Talus and Tralus. Longtime members of the Galactic Alliance, New Republic and Rebellion, the Corellian system was not unfamiliar ground to Aelyn and she had visited each of its worlds multiple times. Tagging along on one of her father's longer-term business trips or even vacationing, as a girl she had built a very firm liking to the unique peoples and cultures of the system from their fierce pride to their carefree spacer reputations.

 

But never before had she visited in these circumstances. This time her father was not the mediator, but it was she, and she was a Jedi Knight. She stretched out with the Force as her ship passed near where Centerpoint Station once had been, feeling the echoes of the era-defining conflict with the Arach'tar years before even as she descended towards Talus.

 

She had been provided with only a very basic idea of what to expect. Her presence had been requested by one Aiwah Lanis who had been having trouble with the Techno Union in a situation revolving around mining rights. She'd been provided with directions to Aiwah's office and she took the Open Road to a nearby public hangar straightaway before walking the remaining distance. She couldn't help but continue to reach out with her feelings, take in the feel of the place as she walked much as she had begun to do in every new place she visited. Worlds and cultures almost had a scent to them in the Force, something otherwise-undefinable that reflected in many ways the character of their population. Aelyn was delighted to be able to sense the cultural complexity of a world like this -- she passed humans, Selonians, Drall, and other species during the short walk and could feel how they were all different and yet distinctly Corellian.

 

Soon she arrived at the office and approached the receptionist. "I'm Jedi Knight Aelyn Talis," she introduced herself. "I believe Ms. Lanis is expecting me?"

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The receptionist asked her to wait a moment, as it took a bit for a reply from Aiwah Lanis's secretary. Eventually, the receptionist managed to confirm the appointment and handed Aelyn a slip of paper denoting the conference room where the negotiations were already taking place, one of the rooms on the 21st floor. Apparently the Skakoans had arrived early and were already in talks. An aide was summoned, and offered to escort Aelyn through the office building.

 

-------------------((Feel free to arrive at any point))--------------------------

 

Tress Rekor, one of the Skakoan delegation, slammed his fist on the table in irritation.

 

"Absolutely out of the question! You know full well the Techno Union has explicit rights to the deposit. Attempting to bring in a third party to mine at this point is only an empty threat. It violates several contracts we already have, five of which were signed by you. Our lawyers will drown your government in injunctions in the galactic courts, and your economy will collapse."

 

A brief moment of anger flashed over Aiwah's face.

 

"Is that a threat, representative Rekor?"

 

Rekor seemed to smile under his mask, relaxing back into his pressure suit where he sat.

 

"Merely an observation of truth."

 

Another long moment of silence as Aiwah furrowed her brows, rubbing her temples. This all was getting nowhere fast.

 

"Chairman Persei, I'm not sure what else I can say. We have provided proof that your mining activities are actively harming local wildlife and will greatly impact the ecosystems of Talus within the next ten to twenty years. Your practices do not hold to any standardized intergalactic regulations intended to protect planetary ecosystems on this scale, and the only counterargument you have given me is two documents that none of my people remember agreeing to."

 

Sobek Persei slowly sat forward, staring at Aiwah through darkened lenses on the mask of his pressure suit.

 

"It is unfortunate. But these were the agreements we negotiated to, governor. I apologize that your lawyers did not have the foresight to include such stipulations in the agreement, but a change in our operations now will be costly. And when I say costly, I mean on a similar scope that would ruin a small planet. We have already halted our operations for the duration of these talks, at great loss of profit, might I add. You suggest to bring in another company to mine. You suggest rolling back our operations to a more long term - and far less profitable - timescale. You suggest changing the original agreements to include provisions that would only harm our interests. What more can you suggest to us that would not harm us and ours, or at least offer an equitable compromise? You know our intentions, and that is to continue as was originally agreed."

 

As he spoke, he wiped his exposed cranium with a handkerchief cloth, cleaning a small but still noticeable seeping wound that seemed to have blackish fluid mixed in with the greenish Skakoan blood.

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Like my posts? Google "zalgo font."

If you meet me, have some courtesy, have some sympathy, have some taste.
Use all your well-learned politics, or I'll lay your soul to waste.

 

 

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