Saerin

((From the Gala New Republic thread. Woo.)) The flight to the Jedi Temple seemed to take an extrodinarily long time and Saerin almost suspected it would have been faster to simply walk there from the Republic base. At least, the touchdown took a while and she was tempted more than once to see if it would be quicker to simply jump out of the ship. "Determining someone's alignment by their powers is like determining their alignment by their clothing," she protested. "If someone's using a light side by nature power for evil, are they nonetheless lawful good for using the ability to heal--so that they can torture a captive almost to death once more? You may wear sheep's clothing..." She spread her hands. "You see. I'm wearing Republic clothing. But I am not affiliated with that faction. Use can be deceiving. What if you used Force Massive Explosion to put out a forest fire and prevent a city from being consumed? Would you become by nature evil?" When they touched down, she got out of the ship and stretched out. She didn't enjoy being confined for long periods of time.

((I'm sorry for not posting... at ALL... I've been knocked over with a massive cold for the last week and a bit. I have health complications that mean when I get sick, it usually hits very hard, and writing is the first thing to go. I figured my character was probably half dead anyway so any posting would've been along the lines of 'attempts to hide behind metal crate while not dying.' Great scene, all of you and it was a pleasure to be involved.)) She was... on the floor in a ship. She was dragged onto a ship. She was in safety's hands. She was thrown through the air. Used as a shield, lit on fire, her skin broken by evil's hands... She was pain. She was still pain. Signifigantly more black dotted the edges of her eyes and blood was dried on her neck and if there weren't five ribs broken where the metal crate had hit, then, well, there weren't five ribs broken but she wasn't planning on moving any further to test it out. She'd heard horror stories about broken ribs piercing lungs and somehow coherently through the fog and the liftoff--the liftoff really didn't feel all that great--she pieced together that it probably wouldn't be advantageous to move all that much except to hopefully stop her neck from bleeding. Getting slammed and thrown and used as a shield with broken ribs was... ...Not something she wanted to repeat, but at least she could think and see through the fog that controlled the rest of her body now. I'm going to kriffing kill that Sith, she thought vaguely. Vague because even now she couldn't correl her thoughts. Repeatedly she'd been called his Padawan, young, and girl and right now she didn't feel very young at all, and certainly not much like a girl, and even less like a Padawan, because at least a Padawan would've been able to hold his own. Jedi (and contrarily Sith) had such an absurd advantage. Right now, though, she really just wanted something for the second degree burns, the massive bruise covering her side and the broken ribs to be checked, a bandage or five for the blood on her neck and something cold to compress it with and about half a bottle of painkiller. She settled for unconsciousness since it was much closer at hand.

She was mere metres away from her ship. Saerin would have sworn, in retrospect, that at that moment she thought she was home free. She'd let her guard down and slowed her step just a hair to catch her breath and board the Argent Star. With the tiniest, most graceful of sounds a figure landed before her. She shied back a half step, staring in awe. But this was no angel floating down from the sky to save them. He was clad in white, and by his hair and eyes he could have been her male counterpart. His hair was blond, he was muscular and well toned, even his age. But there was a difference: his eyes were ice and he rippled with darkness. She was plain and he was awe-inspiring and majestic and ice. She was justice and he was destruction. Everything he stood for was everything she loathed! His trenchcoat was bulky and for a mere second she wondered how he could even move around with that many weapons... That was not her concern. Saerin's concern was the weapon in his one remaining hand. The others weren't leveled at her. She draws her sword. It wasn't a lightsaber, it wasn't cortosis ore, it wasn't Sith steel, it was just a blastsword. Inwardly she thanks the Force and any other deities that might exist that he was a talker first and a shooter second. He expected her to shy back in fear. It gives her fifteen seconds. Fifteen seconds in which she did not think anger that being in the company of a Jedi she'd known for less than a day meant she was about to die again, fifteen seconds in which she did not think that he didn't even know her and would not feel her anguish because there was no bond there, fifteen seconds in which she did not think— —BUT I'M NOT HIS PADA— Her thoughts cut off and survival instinct kicks in. A buzz to replace the protests and stifle the hatred, fear, awe and desire shows up. A buzz to replace the cheerful tone of his voice—oh, so very much like hers! and the mockingly warm smile on his face that was identical to the way she— "You're going to die here." —He is stronger than her. Faster than her. Larger than her. More armed than her... The buzz makes everything feel so slow. It's a flechette launcher. It will hit. It will spray out, up and to the sides. That means that there's going to be a foot or two beneath it that it won't hit because it's not going to hit him, just everything in a radius of about five metres, but not directly underneath it... "I want..." —Well, no, that isn't true, she has two of them left— "...your anguish..." THREE SECONDS, the buzz screams. On the last quarter second she dives for his feet. It hits where she now isn't. There's that tiny, tiny margin where she's at the former Dark Lord's feet, and an explosion of flechettes overhead, and she underestimates its range--one cutting through her left ear, one through the right, one through part of her left shoulder, and that one does the most damage because she feels muscle tear and smells blood but it misses the bone and of course it wouldn't hurt him because he's wearing armor everywhere, she's just wearing cloth, and cloth doesn't hold up against durasteel piercing flechettes... But the blastsword is in her right hand. It's not the injured arm. It comes up even as metal shards are still sailing through the air. Some have sliced through the fuel lines still connected to the Star, mangled droids still refilling the ship, one has taken out a light. The fuel lines separate the Star and Paladin. She hits his launcher with the tip of her sword. It's made to release a blast when the tip hits something--and the blast hits the weapon. The cell powering it explodes in his uninjured hand... and possibly the other cartridges. She doesn't know. She hasn't looked, because by this time she's behind him, ducking under the shredded fuel lines. A tap from her sword, just a small spark, sets them ablaze, and the fuel shooting out rapidly in all directions becomes a wall of inferno that separates the dark from the light. She flees towards her own ship, just a platform away, also still being refueled. But that's still a platform she has to get to.

"I will." Saerin realized she'd probably lied and let Jhoren go, dashing off in the direction of the open airways. The massive explosion had taken out vehicles, lit buildings on fire, burst windows and twisted metal structures. Not to mention the... People... She didn't waste time brushing back her locks of blond hair now disheaveled and half pulled out of her long braid, but settled for pulling the whole braid out as she took to the road. Rampant destruction cluttered the roads with fire and hastily arriving firetrucks to try and quench the... the... Her Rodian was probably dead or severely injured. There were probably no taxis left in the area. It'd only taken a few minutes to walk, so instead she ran, and even that took more time than she wanted. The spaceport had been in the range of the blast. Windows were broken and already cautionary warning signs were being put up around the area. She chose to pay them no heed. Someone shouted at her, something about the ships being fine. They were. Saerin sank in a moment's relief, heading back to their ships.

((Oh, this is glorious. Just glorious. I'm not kidding. I'm proud to witness this sequence of roleplaying. It's beautiful and makes me just tickled that I bothered to return. I'm back now, though.)) Just a little bit drunk, Saerin found herself thrown off by the way events suddenly shifted around her. One moment, a shitty bar. Next moment, mob! I kriffing HATE mobs, she thought a bit drowsily, finding herself a few buildings down amidst screaming and flailing people--all screaming one name above all the rest of the clutter. Faust. Wasn't that some character who'd sold his soul for sheer power, or maybe she was mistaking it for something, but anyway, she figured that her Jedi Knight wasn't one to go off meeting with imposing and powerful figures of darkness. Coruscant echoed through the mob. She didn't know much about Coruscant or what had happened on Coruscant. Breaking off from the clutter she sank onto a gritty bench covered in phallic graffiti and a few words of the most vile sort, and pieced it together herself: Sith. Jhoren had been upset even at the spaceport and seemingly distracted, acting as if she'd said things she hadn't. If there were Jedi, there had to be another side to the credit: Sith. The dark side of the galaxy. The side she'd sworn to destroy. There would be justice today! But not, she was forced to admit to herself, by her hand. For here lay a weakness: no knowledge of the other strains of the galaxy, that colored the world with black and white supernatural whispers. You know if you knew how to use the Force you might actually be able to help out here... that sixth sense might come in handy when you're thinking about having a few ales... ...You can fight blasters and swordsmen but not magic... Shaking off the slight haze from three ales downed in succession, she got back up and began to do her best to herd the crowd as far away from the bar as she could. Mass hysterics. It would work against them and it would work for them. She fought back through the crowd as the shadow of a ship passed overhead and the terrible cantina burst into flames. YOU CAN'T HELP HIM! something in her mind screamed, and she set onto the stragglers, pulling the wounded away from the entrance... already there were two burn victims singed and coughing, one passed out from the smoke. She found it astounding how a cantina entirely empty minutes ago somehow could come up with a mob large enough to drag her away from the barstool and her--Realmsdamnit! My ale! She muttered a few curses, and knelt, dragging the unconscious Rodian away from the door and away from the battleground. She knew nothing about alien medication and left him lying on the far side of the R-rated bench, as the sound of chainguns and explosions shredded the air. There are still people in there! she thought angrily, her sense of logic slightly addled by the ale. She was pissed and a little bit pished, and it was taking her longer than normal to formulate a plan of action. She distracted herself trying to revive the Rodian. The sound of fire from behind her only served to infuriate her more. People are dying in there!

Something seemed to be wrong. She watched it strike across his demeanor and a hundred different tiny emotions flicker through his face and eyes before seconds later he turned away and began to act as if absolutely nothing had occured. Had he sensed danger? She'd heard rumors of Jedi sensing things through the ripples of the Force. Had he heard something beyond her ears? Was it something on her face? Instinctively she reached up to make sure there was nothing in her hair, running her tongue over her teeth just in case there was something stuck there. Nothing wrong with her... So it must be something else. Saerin watched him make some decisions and chose a cantina she hadn't heard of. It had to be a cantina. It was an adjective-noun sort of name and those always applied to cantinas. "All right!" she agreed happily. She had a good tolerance for alcohol and today was a day for at least one drink. <><><> The establishment was dingy and rundown, with cracked windows and dust covering the ledges, the smell of tar, mechanics and crime outside leaking in through the doors only to be quickly pushed aside by an onslaught of dirt, and cheap ale. The nauseating alcoholic smell was primary, and she wrinkled her nose a bit. It smelt like a place with piss poor beer and probably not a good wine in sight. It was also almost empty. That was a very bad sign. She left Jhoren to his contact and sat down at the bar, waving for some service... ((I'll be gone for a few days. See ya.))

She watched him fall into a momentary period of brief concentration before breaking off and beginning to speak again. She watched him dehood himself and smiled. A free ship? That was a fairly good deal. Being a Jedi seemed to come with more perks than just the Force alone. Straightening out her long brown dress, she let herself settle into the area and the slightly cautious stance of one just waiting for trouble. There was more to Nar Shaddaa than met the eye, she knew that behind every friendly face lurked smugglers, bounty hunters and evil-doers. Evil lurked around every corner! For a moment she was glad her sword was sharp, but then she considered that this was, after all, a trip for pleasure and research rather than business. "Just one drink?" Saerin asked with a half-laugh, more of a chuckle than anything that seemed unbefitted to her fairly pleasant nature. "I bet I can outdrink you, unless you have some sort of liver-cleansing trick up your sleeves. That would be a good perk to being a Jedi..."

Because wherever there were laws, there were people to break the laws. She glanced back to his ship and eyed it. "Well, depends. Did you buy it from a shady dealer in the back alley of Tatooine or was it new in a shop on Corellia, gleaming with the smell of new paint? Or maybe from the dead body of smugglers? Depending on where it came from, you never know what lies in its walls. If I got a larger ship, though--I'd get a smuggler's ship. Could come in handy." Regardless of the user-customized security on her one-man ship, she always felt uncomfortable leaving it on a moon such as this. Shipyards were paid to keep ships safe, but places like Nar Shaddaa were never perfectly safe.

The Twilek stood awkwardly beside Jhoren for a few minutes, twiddling his fingers and his lekku occasionally twitching slightly. Gas-pump droids, taking away the livelyhood of all under-18 non-Force sensitives everywhere, began to refill the Star. The Twilek leaned over and began to speak. "If you're looking for entertainment once your companion arrives, there's a great bar and casino just north of here: the Four Corners..." He was cut off by another ship breaking through the atmosphere--Paladin, and went off to make sure the newcomer paid the refueling fee as well. <><><> She regretted coming back here after the dizzying ride through an almost impenetrable wall of pollution only to finally break through over a massive city-wide planet that certainly wasn't the gem Coruscant was. Filth and crime covered the Smuggler's moon with a hundred different sins and a few hundred more trivial crimes besides. Landing, she paid the refueling fee without much concern over the money, and caught up to Jhoren, vaguely grateful for the tiny bit of a reputation she'd picked up last time she was here... "What's a nice Jedi like you doing in a dump like this?" she joked, poking him in the shoulder. "Smuggling spice?"

((Righto.)) She laughed a little to herself, beginning prep for hyperspace--which wasn't more than pushing a button after imputting the coordinates for Nar Shadda... and watching as the stars streaked across the window, and then vanished into a nebula of blue mystery. Who knew what lay between places... Saerin never got to find out.

((Man, this is getting complicated, just to have a conversation.)) Jedi were weird, she reasoned. Skimming quickly through events faster than she could even think to reply and say wait--excuse me--did you hear--I SAID-- Well, fine. So he was going to just leave on her? So be it, then. She boarded her ship, going through the basic security measures to get on board the one man ship, sitting down and securing herself, and resealing it from the toxic atmosphere. Plugging in the frequency channel, she began going through the tedious routine of preflight checks that ordinarily, a droid would do. She didn't trust droids all that much, though, and preferred to go through the checklist manually. Finally she took off, slightly relieved to leave the planet and its ruined temple behind. She poked the button to open the comm airways. "I didn't say I wouldn't go with you. It was just going to be in my own ship. I'm interested in your assistance still."

((Forget about it? LEAVE it here? Uuhhh yeah no. However, if you'd kindly drop her off where she parked her ship, you can feel free to godmod us to space and to whatever planet you'd like.)) "Nothing left for us? Excuse me, I didn't teleport here." She folded her arms, leaning back against the wall of the ship. "I understand you want to protect your ship from the storm, but I happen to have a ship left here. I am not leaving it just because you in your almighty Jedi wisdom have decided there's nothing left here." She gave him a few directions to the port where she'd parked her ship in the city, both to the physical skyline of the city just below them and the numbers she'd been given when she landed. If there was anything she was not doing, it was getting kidnapped and leaving her ship on a planet that could eat metal and technology with computer-destroying spores. It just wasn't happening. This place was too strange to trust. "If you'd like to go to another Temple, perhaps on a less acrebic planet, you can give me coordinates and I'll follow you in my own ship," she said mildly. "But my ship is a difficult model to attain off of Adumar and I'm not leaving it to be eaten by the jungles of Haruun Kal. I'll accept your help, but I'm not making any rash decisions until I know more about you and the Jedi."

"All right," she agreed, offput by the strange weather even though it reflected the wicked nature of the planet. They headed quickly back to the landing platform where he'd left his ship only minutes before, but at least it would provide shelter. The temple didn't seem much safter than standing out in the courtyard joining the landing platforms to the much larger and partially ruined temple right now. It had a strange feeling to it. Sort of dark. Or perhaps that was just the clouds sprinkling innocent rain onto a wicked planet. She cast a suspicious glance up at the darkening sky before catching up to Jhoren and following him to the shelter of the landing platforms.

"Goodness, it seems that the weather itself is foreshadowing any decisions I do make. I'd rather read the datapads before making any critical decisions," she told him, retrieving her sword and sheath from where she'd safely left it during the period of manual labor, reattaching the metre long blastsword to her belt. She regarded the sky and the first drops of rain with a rueful thought towards the now vanished sun. Knowing this place, it was probably poisonous rain that would burn away their skin and eat through their ribs and to their very soul, replacing their heart with that of a poisonous planet seeking the death and destruction of all in its path. Well. Maybe. She laughed lightly, a contrast to the oh-so-serious Jedi Knight, and started across the courtyard back to the ruined Jedi Temple. They'd slung canvas across the holes to the exterior and most of the damage was interior and aestetic. And all the acolates and droids must have gone somewhere.

Above them, clouds began to roll in. Jungles tended to have more erratic weather and here was an example of it. The sun vanished and the clouds began to boil with the threat of an onslaught. The wind was picking up a bit and the thick gray clouds had covered the sun, casting a dull gray over the temple. She was reminded of the threat that lay below them, below the clouds. Now the clouds were rising above them... She giggled, brushing her hair out of her face. The wind was catching the stray fragments too short to stay in her braid and sending them everywhere, highlighted by the dull sun still trickling through the heavy clouds. She was a light-hearted person, always smiling and laughing, her eyes constantly glittering with excitement. She wasn't a person who sighed and stared off mournfully to the horizon--her thoughts and attention were then and there. "Oh, Jhoren," she laughed, a twinkle in her green eyes, "I'm not like the acolates down in the courtyards, questing for a master to train them in the mysterious ways of the Force. They're young, open-minded, not like me. I should be retiring to a nice house on Coruscant and yelling at droids to stop leaking on my sidewalk in a decade or so. I'm too old to quest for new talents. I spent my childhood learning the art of the duel and now I'm just an old witch set in my ways. At least a datapad can't argue back."