Nar Shaddaa

[Mythos]

Mythos arose with a loud growl as he struggled to sit up, mostly out of fear delving in the unknowing and the rest laying in the fact that his quick movement brought excruciating pain across his side where the necrosis of that Sith's blade had came into contact beneath his fur. The moment that the pain subsided, his gaze shifted about, realizing her was no longer aboard the small shuttle from before, nor was he restrained, leaving his mind to wonder considerably.

 

Obviously, he wasnt dead and his wounds had been taken care of with extra care, so was he among the Sith still? He shook his head, his fur rising and falling in the cold air circulating around him as he put the thought out of his mind. Surely he was among friendlies. But where? His remaining paw reached up and covered his face, his thoughts rambling back to his fight with the Sith and then waking aboard the transport just as he remembered the droids words. "Nar Shadaa"

 

His voice croaked beneath its raspy tone as he moved the sheets from his form, some attendees rushing to keep him in bed while he was recovering, but with his towering form and snarling cuspids, they soon backed off as he rose the rest of the way. As a Shistavanen, he recovered quicker than most, his race adept in healing quickly, even wounds such as his with the aid of bacta and a good surgeon. Plus, given the white backless gown that his tail swished open in disgust, one could easily tell he hated medical wards as much as he hated the mystics known as Force Users.  

 

But as luck would have it, when he pulled back the curtain surrounding his bed, he found himself surrounded by said mystics, most notably two females across the way (@Raven Zinthos, @Adenna Alluyen). Waving his hand as he opened a nearby storage hold in search of his clothing, his tail tucked under the gown as best he could, his voice echoed its disgruntled whisper. "Dont mind me. I'll be outta your hair soon."

[Mythos]

"Marshal Von Howlster..." His grizzly mangled voice spoke in return as he searched through the storage container for his belongings, having dismissed her at first for another technician. "We Shistavanen heal rather quickly and that bed could do more good for others than it could for myself."

 

It wasn't until she introduced herself that he took notice of her, a deep sigh boiling out in an almost growl as he shut the containers lid and slumped forward over it in a brief silence, his ears folded back. "A Jedi Knight, you say?" He spoke, a sense of disgust and pity forming in his voice as he turned his gaze toward her, his looming figure towering over her own in comparison as he stood up straight to reveal the limbless side that had been hidden from first glance.

 

"Look Imperial to me." He spoke as his gaze shifted from her toward the jumpsuit, then back to her. "But then again, there isn't much difference these days. Either way, I dont trust you mystics."

 

With that said, Mythos turned to the next storage container and began digging through it. After a few minutes, he found his belongings. What can only be described as a smile soon distorted his face briefly before he excused himself, returning behind the curtain to dress himself. And it wouldn't take long at all despite his missing limb, Mythos using his snout and teeth to aid where his extra paw would have been useful, and after only a couple of moments of struggles and grunts, he reemerged from behind the curtain.

 

"I'm surprised you haven't used your mystical powers to figure it out, Jedi Sarna." Mythos finally answered as he propped himself up against one of the ward's cabinets. "I was a Alliance Warden, used to hunt and capture escaped criminals and such down syndicates until I retired. And when wind of the Mandalorians at Coruscant reached my ears, I felt it was time I returned." His paw reached for the missing limb as if to scratch at it, only to find it no longer there. "And in my first round out, i found myself facing your opposite, a Sith."

 

Yet, even as he spoke, the Sith's implanted memories still plagued his mind, the elder Marshal attempting his best to ignore the shadowed figures darting amongst the corners of his eyes, leaving his temper hot and his fear tested.

[Mythos]

Mythos eyes widened as the girl spoke, his ears raised as he tried to figure her out for a brief moment before his laughter echoed throughout the ship's wards, causing the Marshal to flinch in pain as he caught himself.

 

"Do not beat yourself up lass." He spoke, his gurgled words holding a more gentler tone. "I'm sure you are a fine warrior. But my kind have long been persecuted out of fear, so I dont trust many to begin with, least of all the Sith, from whom i now bear two scars, the first of which scars my back."

 

Mythos sighs, his memory flowing back to his previous fight. He was sure he had the Sith dead to rights. Gritting his teeth, he dropped his head in disgust, a sense of sorrow emanating from him as his fury face sunk and his ears reeled back. His voice softer than usual, he speaks. "Its not that i hold any ill will toward your ilk. But even I know that your powers eventually corrupt even the most peaceful of your lot, and in the end, those of us who do not possess the gift your granted are the ones who suffer."

 

"Its hard to believe that I was just the runt of my litter so long ago, expected to perish or be lame for the rest of my life." Mythos chuckles as the thought, rarely having ever told such a story, especially to one he had just met. "But as I grew, I grew to be the largest of them all, and eventually, even larger than my own father, the Alpha of our tribe. Then came the expectations that I would succeed him as Alpha. Little did they know of my dream to follow the stars, nor the life I have lived since."

 

Mythos shook his head, his gaze shifted toward the little human he stood by, his face mangled by what appeared to be a smile as he grasped his limbless side. "If you would do that for me, little one, I would be much obliged. Just nothing Imperial issued, if you dont mind." He spoke with a wink.

[Mythos]

((So much to catch up. Sorry for the wait.))

 

"Then I would do so with great sorrow."Mythos spoke, his ears parting as he hung his head, sitting down low enough for the girl to do her work in comfort. As he watched the artificial limb being brought in, he flinched, his kind unacquainted with such devices. Yet, his mind spoke of an undesired trust within this one that he couldn't quite fathom. Perhaps she was genuinely honest? Perhaps his time had grew him soft? He wasnt quite sure. Yet, he found a sense of comfort in her as she went about her work.

 

Her work was painful to say the least, even with her use of the Force. But pain was something that Mythos had always known even as runted pup. And it came in a variety of flavors, both emotional and physical. But the pain he felt here was minimal compared to the loss he knew was felt during Coruscant. Oh if only he could have been there.  He flinched as she began attaching the nerve endings, his elongated tongue lapping at his teeth in his displeasure, his brow furrowed. It was more pain he needed to endure, to know the suffering of those he could not protect. And so he would, his face scrunched each time he flinched, until, at last, she was done.

 

"I understand little one." He said with a hoarse voice, the semblance of the tears he had shed still wetting the fur upon his face as he rose to meet her departure. He tilted his head and upper form forward into a slight bow, his ears perked up. "Until we meet again."

 

But he knew very well that it would be sooner than later, having heard Slaughter's voice as well, the canine physicality a more refined one. And so not long behind Sandy, Mythos would arrive behind the young Jedi Knight and take his place beside Slaughter, nodding, with another figure soon joining him opposite Slaughter's form as the tower Shistavanen took a brief moment to speak to all present.

 

"But you have became what you fight." Mythos raised his mangled voice as high as he could so that all would hear the severity of his voice. "Perhaps not intentionally, but you have. Whether your powers of the this mystic energy you call the Force that eventually corrupts, or your actions in battle, you have. In fact, the Sith whom I fought held the same self righteous convictions in which we all hide behind, whispering words of her family's demise at your own hands...."

 

Yet before Mythos could get another word in, the figure that followed him stepped into the frame from behind Slaughter, Kari's Togruta face familiar to at least one within the room (Armiena) when she nearly destroyed the Gala Temple at Lusef Aryan's bidding nearly a decade ago. "The Shistavanen is correct, in a manner of speaking. The Sith operate without rules, forging their own as each dynasty rises and falls. But we are not such creatures. We still stand behind the very laws that were created many of millennia ago by our forefathers, and that is what separates us. They may not be held accountable for their actions, but we must be, or we shall fall into the very same anarchy in which the enemy thrives. We must maintain the balance. We must unite and place all disagreements aside for now."

[Mythos]

Mythos growled beneath his breath as the Imperial Empress, a lass barely off the teet, and the others talked about the room, his voice and message largely ignored. His eyes shifted to Slaughter whom seemed quiet for the most part, before he reached up and began pulling at his maw's chin fur in disbelief. They went on and on about unity and becoming one, but dreams such as those were but fairy tales and high hopes. Even he knew this as his gaze shifted past Slaughter toward the Lieutenant that stood opposite Slaughter's side from him. As long as Mystics like the Jedi and Imperial Knights existed, so would those whom opposed them, whether it be the Sith or some offshoot of them. It had always been this way, and war was inevitable. There was no true way to prevent it.

 

"You mystics should stick to fighting your own kind." Mythos growled loudly, the authority in his voice knarled by his anger. "And let us handle ours. Even in the days of the Republic, we were constantly dragged into fighting the Sith and Imperial forces, and it fell. This time would be no different. Let Slaughter command the Military with you Jedi and Imperial Knights answering to him."

 

Mythos knew that more than likely, his words would fall upon deaf ears, even amongst Slaughter. But that's how he was built. As a former Alliance Marshal, he didnt answer to anyone but his superiors, and he always made his voice apparent even if it wasnt heard. But there was some solid truth to his words. The military needed to be separate from religions such as the Jedi and only with the military as the head. If the Jedi wished to follow, then that was by choice, but the Jedi leading the military has always proved to be its downfall and it was time for a change to this matriarch between the Jedi and what remained of the Republic. It was time the Alliance led rightfully. Even the Imperials stood as a testament to this.

 

But as Mythos was talking, Kari caught herself distracted. There was a pull on the Force that swirled around her, a faint one, but one all the same. Curious, she excused herself from the room quietly and began to follow its grasp. First, it led her to the lift, a similar feeling one would feel as if being watched lingering upon her mind. And once she reached the hangar, she would feel a similar feeling one would grasp as if they knew the person watching them would be behind a singular door or around a corner as she shot her gaze about in search of the pull she was feeling.

 

The hangar was spacious, yet crammed full after the recent events at Dark Sun Station, transport ships arriving with fresh supplies and personnel as the many injured were looked after and the dead rounded up for funeral honors. So what Kari was feeling was like looking for a needle in a bale of nerfgrass. Yet, as she turned near a ship, a man(Ban) exiting it caught her attention, his own gaze shifting about. The pull seemed to come from him and he was in search of someone himself. Just as she was about to make her approach, however, nearby security interfered. Curiously, she watched, attuning her already sensitive hearing to eavesdrop upon the lot while maintaining a reasonable distance. That was, until curiosity grew the better of her about why he was here and who was he following.

 

"Stand down Apprentice." Kari shouted as she strolled over casually, the stripes upon her jacket signalling her rank as a Galactic Alliance Lieutenant. "Kari Koi, Alliance Lieutenant." She smiled, brushing aside her jacket to reveal the Je'daii Ranger star upon her vestiage and handing over her creditials. "Sorry about the confusion, but after Coruscant, I havent had much time to register my Apprentice." 

Edited November 19, 2019 by Mythos
Changed Jeet to Ban

[Mythos]

As the meeting winded down, Mythos followed Slaughter. Even with his wounds, the towering Shistavanen had little trouble keeping up with stout Commanding Officer as they reached the transport and left behind the Mystics and their fleet. On the trip to the Fidelity, Mythos moved the artificial limb about, the phantom pains of the limb no longer there merely masked by the presence of the metallic one. How could he have been so weak to have fallen for such trickery? Mythos shook the thought from his head. He knew deep down that he was lucky to be alive as most Sith rarely freed their prisoners.

 

Once aboard the Fidelity, Mythos turned to head to command and make his report, but a glimmer of a shadow from the corner of his eye sparked his interest. He had been seeing them since he awoke aboard the medical frigate, but paid little heed until now. Had he been freed only to be followed? It was a solid question with a possible answer, but it had only been shadows he glanced. There was no smell, no sound, just hauntings as his senses seemed almost dull to its presence unlike everything else. Curious, he turned and headed toward its direction.

 

"Everything okay Marshal?" A voice questioned when he gazed down a separate corridor, nothing but Alliance personnel about after the recent battle. Turning his gaze to the Ensign's location, Mythos spoke. "Must still be the anesthesia wearing off. Thought I saw something." The Ensign looked around and down the corridor as well to confirm before he turned back to the Marshal. "Nothing there sir. Probably just need more rest. I'll let Admiral Slaughter know." Shaking his head, Mythos agreed and departed. As he did, the Ensign sent a message up the chain of command to @Sgt. Slaughter and alerted him of Mythos' rest. 

 

Admiral Slaughter, Marshal Mythos has yet to fully recover from his injuries and appears to be having some minor reactions to the anesthesia he was placed under with. Sent him to his quarters for more rest, but he should be fine in the next twenty four to forty eight hours. - Ensign Delgosso

[Mythos]

Dreams were a frivolous thing, never the same and yet similar in most aspects. They were always foggy, faces unknown save for the subconsciousness of one's memory. Yet at times, they were pleasant and peaceful, and at others, horrific and terrifying. But never had one plagued the Marshal's mind such as the one that screamed at him within. Faces of the dead blurred upon his vision, their rotted arms pulling at his form and at his soul, hollowed eyes gazing with emptiness. It was enough for even the most hardened veteran to wake with a screaming bellow.

 

Mythos shot up in his bed, his form flinching upon the sudden jerk and the sore muscles surrounding the cold steel of his artifice as he struggled from the sheets that covered his form. His fur wet from beaded sweat had began to soak through the sheet and into the mattress beneath him as his gaze met the rising sun, his breathing frantic and grasping. Moving his paw toward the metallic limb, he squeezed its unnatural palm, balling his fist up and relaxing it a few times until the phantom pain left its presence, the dream fading away from present memory.

 

He rose from his bedding and began to get dressed, the Shistavanen gazing into the mirror plaqued upon his dresser's door as he thought back to the dream, the familiar presence reminiscing of the shadows that had been darting across his vision since his return from Dark Sun Station. Button by button, he remembered each time he thought he saw the ghostly figures, his mind curious as to the what and why. Stepping toward the refresher, Mythos splashed his scarred face, letting the cool liquid Scroll down it as he reached for a towel. He needed to relax and forget the seemingly unforgettable.

 

When Mythos left his room, he commed ahead to let his departure to Nar Shadaa below, requesting a small transport for his trip. And when he arrived at the hangar, he climbed aboard and left the frigid airspace behind, his destination a Cantina... any Cantina. Nar Shadaa was surely full of them, and at the moment, he simply needed the hustle and bustle of life despite the usual glances he recieved. In truth, Mythos hadn't even bothered to adorn the metallic mask he usually did to hide his true origins. Today was simply about a little R and R.

 

Hours seemed to have passed when his comm link alerted him, Mythos sitting alone in a darkened corner of a rather busy Cantina as music blared in the background with such intensity that it nearly tore at his sensitive hearing, his ears flocked backwards to in natural disdain. As he finished his small cup of water, Mythos gazed around, partially enjoying the moment of life before he pulled out his comm unit and listened to the arrival of Orders. He knew duty was calling. Tossing a credit stick upon the table, Mythos downed the drink and grabbed his coat as he rose. He had a mission, and deep in his mind, he hoped he was capable of it.

 

As he walked out of the Cantina, he sent a request of Alliance men to meet him aboard the Montjoie as well as some of the best Imperial Troopers that could be found on such short notice, figuring now would be as good a time as any to test their worth and mettle. It was no secret that he despised the Empire, but not nearly as much as he did the mystics that guided them. But if this Alliance was going to truly work, he could at least try and work with those like himself, the untouched, those blessed without that cursed magic they call the Force. Two squadrons from each would surely do enough for his test, with himself included making a total of twenty five. A bit of an overkill, but after Dark Sun Station, Mythos planned to not take chance should one of those soul sucking dark sorcerers appear.

 

As Mythos rounded a corner leading to the port he landed in however, he found his gaze looking ahead toward an @ISB Officer(s)and what appeared to be a hunter (@Flashbandit2475) engaging a group of the local youth. Mythos grimaced, his teeth showing as he found himself across from pointed guns aimed at the two youths before him. He truly did not have the time to watch the stand off unfold and he rathered not be placed on the recieving end should one of the DC-17's bolts happen to miss. Towering the two by at least a foot and a half, Mythos leaned in close enough for his displeased breath to take across their necks as the unmasked Shistavanen growled in displeasure at their sight, the two quickly turning to gaze at the massive Marshall as he reached forward quickly and tightly gripped his paws around their drawn barrels. With little patience, and a lack of worry about their aim as they shook in fear, Mythos' garbbled a simple sentence through his disfigured vocal cords. "Begone, now, little ones."

[Mythos]

Shaken and egos bruised, the two quickly let go of their pistols and took off, briefly holding their retreat to grab their fallen comrade before they took off completely. Mythos grimaced and toss the blasters aside, his gaze shifting toward the two that remained. He nodded his head in response of the Imperial Officer removing his helm, the Shistavanen's long tongue licking his maw as he shifted his gaze one last time to ensure the trio had disappeared completely before approaching Briggs and the Imperial Officer. "Trouble in Paradise, I take it?" Mythos spoke, his voice knarled and low, pointing in the direction that the three offenders had taken.

 

"I was just on my way to the Mission to see if any new recruits were capable of the task before I headed back." He spoke, while in truth, Mythos trusted newer recruits even less far than even Imperial Soldiers, but as he gazed upon this one beside the Officer, he grew intrigued. He was quick on the draw, it seemed, but so was Mythos himself all those years ago when he first joined the Galactic Alliance Marshals. Perhaps with a little training and education, he could be shaped well for this new Rebel Alliance that was being forged. "Seems fate decided to do the work for us."

 

Mythos's gaze shifted toward the new recruit, his face never moving as the scarred eye peered toward the new recruit. "Indeed. Had this been only a few months ago, I wouldn't have lifted a singular finger to help either of you or anyone affiliated with Imperials. But that was then and this is now, and I'm sure the officer here would likely agree had it been you and I." Mythos' tone was strict and informative. he may have liked the man's character, but it didn't mean that he would go easy on the lad. This was war that was brewing across the Galaxy, and coddling would only end in death. "I would say the mission was a simple one, but there is nothing simple about war. But fortunately it seems an easy enough task to get your boots wet. Be thankful. We could be facing Sith rather than a the simpler task of evacuating Anaxes."

 

And with that said, Mythos turned and started walking toward the starport. It was time he reported in upon the Montjoire. Briggs was welcome to catch up if wasn't already on Mythos' heels. After all, Mythos wasn't one for words, and especially today of all days with that haunting dream still weighing upon his mind.

 

[Mythos]

Mythos placed his hand up, signaling the young Briggs a moment of silence as the two entered the bustling spaceport before continuing onward to the small transport. As he nodded to the pilot, he allowed Briggs to climb aboard before he shut the door behind them and took a seat. With the added privacy, Mythos turned a stern gaze toward the human.

 

"We've got to remain cautious even on a friendly world like Nar Shadaa. You never know when a spy is lurking nearby." Mythos spoke, the lunge of the transport lifting off and making way for space shifting their weight slightly. "Its a standard evacuation mission. We go in, evacuate Imperial and Alliance members, wipe the software, set the self destruct and get out. Sounds simple for a first mission, eh?"

 

Mythos let the mission details linger upon the air, his emphasis sounding on the latter more than most. But no mission ever turned out simple, and Mythos knew this better than most, the scarred flesh and vocal cords beneath his throat's fur a reminder as much as a testament to that very fact. Still, even someone like Mythos could hope for such success.

 

"But to be on the safe side of things, I've requested a squad from both the Alliance Marines and the Imperial Troopers." Mythos spoke as he leaned back and crossed his legs and folded his arms beneath his head, not leaving much room for anyone to walk around the large being. "Better to be safe than sorry. Get comfortable recruit. It'll take a few moments to reach our destination."

[Mythos]

It wasn't much of a trip, or so it felt like just mere moments for Mythos. Because as soon as he got comfortable, he felt the shaking thud of the transport touching down within the Montjoie. Disembarking, Mythos placed the metallic mask her wore to hide his identity upon his face, shook his duster loose of dirt and debris, and began walking the large hangar as he made his way toward the lift leading to the bridge. Just as requested, both the Galactic Alliance Marines and the Imperial Troopers were aboard and preparing themselves for departure, the smell of disdain lingering in the air as the tension between the two groups brought static into the air at mere glances. Mythos shook his head and loaded aboard the lift.

 

Moments later he was aboard the bridge and preflight checks were under way. Still, a part of him stood on edge despite the low threat given to the mission. He couldn't help but feeling his hair standing on ends.

 

(@Flashbandit2475.... just catch up when you can.)

[Mythos]

As the Montjoie finished her preflight checks and lifted from the hollowed dry docks that bustled her frame, Mythos gave a nod toward the Commander on Deck before grabbing the dataslate he had been handed from his pocket and headed toward the hangar. Now was the time for the brass tactics, his presence upon the bridge more of a hindrance than a necessity. He was a creature of war and personal confrontation, not a visor of the range and fleet. And he would not pretend to be such. 

 

After the brief ride down from the bridge to the hangar, Mythos, towering above most, quickly noticed the culmination of the squads he had requested, a brewing mixture of Imperial Troopers and Alliance Marines.... and Trandoshans? Mythos was actually taken aback a bit as he encountered the small group (@Vox) that now integrated within the group, the Shistavanen actually having to look up at someone as others often did him. His gaze stared at their leader as he walked beneath him and toward the forefront before turning around and opening a channel across the hangar's frequency. 

 

"I'm sure all of you are wondering why you stand next to each other...." He spoke, his grizzled voice still barely above a whisper even with the enhanced tone of the hangar's comm system. "Especially with a former Alliance Marshal at the helm. But with the loss of Coruscant and Hesperidum, we no longer have the luxury of despising one another. Imperials and Galactic Alliance... they are no longer names to separate us. We are the Rebel Alliance, or simply Rebels if you prefer. And you lucky few are the first bunch to get to know what it's like to work together. Don't like it? Take it up with your superiors. Until we return, you're mine. Got it? Good."

 

Mythos sighed, the raspy tone of it gurgling across the air waves as he bypassed the pleasantries and got right down to business.

 

"Our target if the War College at Anaxes. We get in, evacuate the members, wipe the drives, set charges, and get out before it crumbles with minimal casualties. After that, we gather what remains of our assets and we head home. Any questions? Mythos let a brief moment of silence linger, but quickly speaking again before any questions could truly be asked. "I didn't think so. Grab some chow and prepare yourselves. Dismissed.

 

Just as Mythos spoke, the ship shifted beneath them as it entered hyperspace and they were off toward their destination.

 

((If you want to do any introductions or have anything to do before we reach Anaxes, post in the Space thread. Otherwise, I'll post our arrival at Anaxes in three RL days. I'm also available in DMs on Discord if any OOCly questions are needed))

[Mythos]

As the Montjoie exited hyperspace above Nar Shadaa, the secured members of the College and the acquired Doctrines aboard, as well as the rescued Ships in tow, Mythos sighed a sigh of relief. The mission to Anaxes was completed without a single hitch. Gathering his things, he left the bridge and after sending his report to @Sgt. Slaughter, made his way to shuttle bay of the drydocks where @Voxand @ISB Officer(s) were to meet and head to their debriefing.

 

"Job well done men." Mythos spoke in a congratulatory tone, patting Vox and the others upon the backs as he pulled his duster onto him form and made his way to the shuttle that would bring them to Headquarters for the debrief.

 

Within eye shot of the Imperial Knight that had brought back the commissioned ships, Mythos stopped dead, the flickering of the forms plaguing his vision and dreams being caught out the corner of his dilated eyes. His breath grew heavy as the fear sat in, similar to what those with PTSD would display, only this was a different form. It was her memories, that of the Sith's, converging into his reality that he displayed, and it was beginning to only get worse as time went on. Especially in moments of dire duress or fatigue, both of which was beginning to set themselves upon him after such a worrisome mission.

 

Shaking his head, shifting his gaze to see if anyone saw him or the figure save for the Imperial Knight he seemingly missed observing him, Mythos dusted the collar of his duster and climbed aboard, closing his eyes as he sat down upon the bench and awaited to the ride planetside.

 

For Mythos, this was an unnatural occurrence, part of him wanting to blame PTSD or perhaps a repercussion of his near death experience at Dark Sun on a scientific level. But the other half felt and knew that the Sith's mystical power had something to do with this, whether lingering from the fight or a curse placed upon him after. He wasn't completely sure. All he was sure about was that it was beginning to get to him and that could pose a problem in future missions. Perhaps one of the medics could provide a stimulant after the debriefing, or perhaps something to help him sleep it off since he hadn't gotten much sleep since. Either way, something had to be done. Crossing his remaining arm across his eyes, he stayed in that position until he felt the transport land planetside.

[Mythos]

As Mythos felt the shuttle land, he removed his arm and stood up, stretching his gigantic form as he did, his fur ruffling in response. He had caught a brief amount of sleep on the ride down, and while it may not have been enough, it would sustain him until he could properly catch up. Looking around for the apparitions and seeing none, he disembarked.

 

Just as he turned and started making his way to the medical ward, he smelt the approach of two Imperial Knights, the littlest of the two finishing it. Personally, he'd rather steer clear of the Imperial personnel as much as he could. But given the recent mission and Admiral Slaughter's own attempt to find a middle ground with them, he figured what harm could come of it.

 

"Sure little one." He spoke, leaning his gaze down toward her as his eyes shifted toward her compatriot. "I suppose a bite to eat before our debriefing wouldn't hurt."

 

Nor would it hurt to show the others the means of narrowing the gap between former Alliance members who still held grudges toward their Imperial counterparts now that the Rebel Alliance was beginning to come to fruition. He needed to set an example if this Alliance was going to truly work.

 

Reaching into his pocket, Mythos pulled out a Golden Credit Stick and held it between his index and middle fingers of the artificial arm that Sandy had attached for him as he smiled a bit forcefully. "But please, allow it to be my treat" Mythos voice strained as he bowed properly and offered her to take the lead, the Shistavanen's real arm extended.

[Mythos]

Mythos followed their lead toward a little restuarant near the Imperial Base, a well known establishment for the middle class who preferred better tastes for a smaller credstick, as well as Officers and Higher Clientele whom preferred a more low key locale. As the shop keeper lead them to their table, Mythos removed his mask in the darker lighting, exposing his true visage and the scars he bore across his experienced face. As the two Knights ordered their drink preferences, Mythos ordered a round of Corellian Whiskey for the three with a Tarisian Ale for a chaser.

 

"Its not you or your Order personally." Mythos began, his grumbled voice revealing the hidden incorrect healing of his once sliced vocal cords. "But more toward the ideology and standing that comes with any Empire, especially those before your's."

 

Mythos had just turned back the larger shot of Corellian Whiskey when he saw @Vox enter the establishment, the Shistavanen taking a drink from the pitcher sized mug the owner had brought for him as he stood and waved the Trandoshan over. Setting the mug down, he looked back toward Ryzhkov, the maw scar draping his eye apparent even in the dimmed lighting. "That, and I dont care much for the mystic energy you call the Force or those who use it."

 

As Vox began to head in their direction, Mythos sat back down, pulled a unoccupied chair from another table, and made room for the new arrival, taking another large gulp from his mug and licking away the access and foam from his own jaws. "As a former Alliance Marshal, its left a certain disdained taste in my mouth, and after the recent skirmish at Dark Sun Station, it hasn't gotten any sweeter. It may have not been my first encounter with a Sith,"

 

Mythos cringed slightly as the hairless scar across his back burned in memory as he mentioned his first encounter as well as his own mind wondering across the recent plaguing of memories belonging to the last encounter, causing his gaze to shift to his artificial replaced arm at the hands of the Knight Sandy as he balled its metallic fist up and released it. "But this last encounter was unlike any other before." Shifting his eyes from Ryzhkov to his mug, Mythos tipped up to finish it off and held it up for a refill.

[Mythos]

"Liquor helps..." Mythos spoke in response to her comment about his anger toward her kin, the Shistavanen smiling a gruesome attempt that just ended up looking more fierce some than friendly as he withdrew his refiled mug and sat it down upon the table. "I suppose that I've always viewed any user of the Force as a nuisance, more bothersome than actual help in any given situation. But I supposed you're just as fallible as the rest of us, and maybe I shouldn't be so stubborn to the ideals behind your aid."

 

Mythos leaned back against the metallic chair, his tail slipping off to the side as he crossed his legs and cradled his mug upon his stomach. He was beginning to notice his biased outlook, having harbored ill will toward them all due to the select few, mainly the Sith. As Vox sat down and poised his question in a dialect Mythos was slightly familiar in, yet butchered when he spoke it, he chose to reply in basic instead. "Never been here before myself, but they've got good Yelp reviews. Order whatever you like. It's on me."

 

With that said, Mythos turned back to the younger of the Knights and the questioned she asked. Although her wording was off, he knew what she wanted to know. His brow furrowed a bit, his tongue licking his canines as he thought back to his encounter with the Sith Lord. "It was weird to be honest. A mist that appeared from nowhere clouded my vision before we even got into the fight, and where she remained for most of the battle, striking at me in between the phantoms she had conjured, showing me her painful past and trying to justify her darkness."

 

As Mythos recalled the duel, he caught a glimpse of the shadows that had been haunting him sitting over in the corner, causing his gaze to shift toward it rather quickly, but it was gone as quick as it came and he turned back to Ivanov. "I lost my arm to her cursed blade, and yet, she allowed me to live, leaving me  in agony as the wounds I recieved festered, almost as if she knew I would be rescued."

 

With that said, Mythos took another few laps of the mug as he pondered the reasons why and tried to forget the spirits that seemed to plague his mind.

[Mythos]

Mythos's brow furrowed as she spoke, his tail shifting in his displeasure. The young Imperialist called his survival a blessing, which, in the usual context, he could see. But in truth, it now felt like a curse. Not in the sense that he had survived, but the darkness he felt she had placed upon him, the visions of spirits and the dead, her trickery to haunt his mind. He was doing all he could to hold it together. Taking another lap of his drink, he sat it down and opened his own menu.

 

"Didn't know that such services were offered." Mythos spoke with surprise, the veteran of the Alliance Marshals having never really heard of post mission therapy, but the days of old had long changed since he was truly active. He was the last of a dying breed, from an era where emotional syndromes weren't openly talked about except over a few alcoholic beverages. "What do these services entail exactly?"

 

As the Marshal awaited her reply, he shifted his hand toward a waiter and began making his order; a large steak, medium rare with a portion of potatoes and a small fist sized yeast bun off to the side. Handing over the cred stick to pay for the Meals, Mythos turned back to the young Imperialist. "Truth be told, I'm beginning to believe she hexed me. Or that I'm simply going crazy. I see the spirits she rose that day everywhere I turn lately in my perifial, only to look and not see anything there. They invade my mind even in my dreams, and I'm exhausted."

[Mythos]

Even though a response never came, Mythos enjoyed his meal rather lavishly. He may have looked like a wild animal, but his manners were well behaved as he cut the steak into small morsels and ate the potatoes with a spoon. When he finally sat back and let his full stomach press hard against his clothes, he let out a satisfied sigh before encircling his stomach with his paw, his long tongue licking the small portions that remained between his maw and gums.

 

But today would not stay all calm, cozy, and collected as his comm unit blared out loud and briefly interrupted other patrons, Mythos apologizing as he scooped up what remained of the credstick and made his way out the door. Looking at the comm unit with slight despair, he sighed, and put the unit away. It was back to active duty, only a shifting moment of relaxation enjoyed. Gathering his equipment and finding a quick restroom to use, it wouldn't be long before he was aboard the Misericordia. He only hoped his mind would not end with his derelict of duty this day.