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  1. Last week
  2. The Arrival

    Mirran quietly sipped the drink. It was warm. And it made her feel light-headed. What's being drunk like? She wondered. She wasn't drunk yet. Yet... couldn't a Force User get rid of that? She took the bottle and poured a little more of the drink. She sipped the drink. "Teach me more.." She laughed. Maybe that was the alcohol.
  3. The Arrival

    Verrin nodded as Mirran sipped the drink, as instructed. There was a twinge of excitement in the Force, leaving Verrin to think that perhaps she was ready to hear more. But more likely, she was merely excited from doing something 'bad' - or at least, something her superiors would frown upon. It wasn't as simple as all that. Very likely, there was some genuine excitement over experiencing something new, some over making a decision for herself and then acting upon it, and some over indulging her id instead of locking it down. But surely, some of it was that sense that she was either getting away with something, like stealing a kiss, or a cookie from a jar. That feeling could go a long way towards driving her to do other new things, opening her to the idea of experiencing life, rather than avoiding it out of some irrational fear of actually feeling some emotions. It was a first step to overcoming that which the Jedi instilled into all of their students... fear. He remained silent for the moment, letting her savor hers. He wanted the experience to be a positive one, and incessantly bombarding her with information wasn't necessarily the way to do that. She would ask another question eventually, or choose to simply enjoy this moment and then be on her way to digest it. He'd support either, or both, but this would nudge her to continue her decision-making.
  4. Earlier
  5. The Arrival

    Enjoyable? People actually enjoyed this? Interesting to say the least. Mirran lifted the glass to her nostrils and took a snif. She lifted the glass to her face and stared at it. She went deep into her sight and saw the molecules of water and alcohol. Interesting. "And crazy people would light the liquid on fire. And swallow it whole. At least I have heard that. But I suppose some might enjoy the thrill of a burn going down their throats." Mirran quietly stirred the drink with the Force. She then took a sip of the drink. It burned just the same going down. But Mirran was expecting it. It was interesting. She felt something needling her, an inner voice warning her that she was going beyond her scope of the Jedi. But Mirran ignored it. Part of her wanted this....it was exciting.... learning something the Jedi would forbid.
  6. The Arrival

    Verrin was a little surprised when Mirran brought the knife back up and across his neck, but he didn't sense danger. He could have reacted several different ways - ducked back, phased to allow the knife to pass harmlessly through him, or aggressively pushed back to turn this into an altercation. With Sith, he probably would have had to do the latter, but here, he didn't feel threatened at all. He didn't even flinch as the blade grazed him - the pain of a razor cut was nothing compared to what he'd endured in his lifetime. He didn't feel like she wanted an answer to her question. She was being rhetorical, wondering if he feared the blade, or the pain that went with it. She knew he didn't, even if she didn't know why. Perhaps that was why she finally conceded to instruction. Maybe... what she wanted most... was for him to teach her how not to be afraid anymore. That was a tough, tough lesson to teach. It had been a horribly long and hard lesson for him to learn himself, even with a master who was undeniably patient with him. The methodology was simple enough - exposure to ever-increasingly stressful, fearful experiences, and surviving them. But was this woman... this girl, really... ready to learn those lessons? She approached the beverage cart, and Verrin wondered how she would know which drink was what she wanted. He knew her kind had heightened senses of smell, but he didn't move to assist her in this situation. In a way, it was a lesson for her to overcome - that lesson in fear and pain, and experiencing them so that she wouldn't be afraid anymore. She picked up a bottle. It happened to be a Corellian whisky, and when she sipped it, the initial burn almost had her spitting it out. Verrin approached the cart and answered her, "That's a Corellian whisky, and a good one - not that swill you might get at the local cantina that tastes like paint thinner and burns your taste buds more than it tantalizes them. Perhaps you should try some. Here... if you'll allow me..." Once again, he gently took the bottle and retrieved a crystal lowball glass from the cart. Into that, he placed a single cube of ice that clinked in the crystal the way that only that combination of materials could. He then poured a finger-and-a half of the liquid into it, causing the sound of cracking as the ice reacted to the room-temperature liquid. It echoed in the crystal. He explained, "When properly served, the drink is mixed with one cube of ice only. Too much ice and the beverage is watered down, reducing its potency, weakening it. No ice, and the drink is powerful - you may have heard of people ordering their whisky 'neat'. That's better than too much ice, but not perfect. There's a chemical reaction that takes place as the single ice cube connects with the drink, releasing additional aspects of it that would have been hidden neat, or diluted with too much. And all of those subtleties hit your taste buds and olfactory senses alike. Now here..." He placed the serving into her hand. "First, raise it to your nose and take two slow, deep breaths of it. Let the aroma awaken your senses so they are ready for it - not shocked by it. Then, take a sip of it into your mouth, and roll it around on your tongue - let it hit every part, your sweet spots, your sours, your bitters, and your salts. Hold it there for few seconds, and then swallow - the first will burn a little, but I think you've already resolved that. The second will burn less, and tantalize more. Sip to enjoy. A drunkard will shoot the whole thing back, seeking that oblivion of a mindless state that you mentioned. But she who sips,,, those taste buds will send endorphins into your brain's pleasure centers, and you should find it to be an enjoyable experience." He paused to see how she took his instruction. It would likely flavor how she received any instruction he gave her in the Force.
  7. Poniard Spacedock Offices

    Through the Force, Tala could likely sense Verrin's annoyance, frustration, and even a hint of trepidation. None of those were directed at her, but they certainly surrounded his thoughts. She probably even detected a glimpse of wry humor at her question of his race as his lip quirked in a smirk. It was fair, her return question, given his second one. Stating the obvious was caused by his distraction with his duties, and he accepted the light-hearted reprimand as a reminder to focus. He blinked, and she was standing, but the movement didn't disturb him. He might have been surprised had she taken a knee, but she merely approached him in her typical... peaceful... Jedi way. Again, Verrin mentally reprimanded himself. It was hard, seeing beyond a Jedi. He hadn't always been like this - so filled with hatred for a people rather than one individual or another. The Sith had apparently trained him well in some regard. But no... it wasn't the Sith who taught him his hatred of Jedi. It had been the Jedi themselves. He was glancing over the flimsi once more, but heard her question about the strangeness of their encounter. With a serious look on his aged face, he brought eyes that were yellowed from the Dark Side up to meet her young ones, and spoke, "Right now, it is. I suspect that with repetition of positive encounters that it'll become easier. Do you intend for this to be that - a positive encounter?" It was a challenge, in a way, and out of character for him. She didn't know that, of course, but he mentally gritted his teeth a third time for allowing himself to be affected so. He closed his eyes for a full three-second count, and then opened them once more. He didn't expect her to reply, but guessed she understood that this was indeed, as she'd stated... strange. He continued on, "I've been tasked with having you assist me in a negotiation... or rather, a hearing of sorts. This world has several smaller cities and townships, but here in the main spaceport, there are districts carved out to house and support the Jedi and the Sith, as well as other factions of the former Empire and those of the Republic who are sympathetic to our joint cause as opposed to the current leadership they endure. There was an altercation on the border between the Sith and Jedi districts, and I'm supposed to meet with some authority figure in the Jedi order. However... the powers above me think that I might lose my temper and somehow discard the precarious perch that our alliance sits upon over whatever transgression took place. So they sent me to retrieve you for assistance... because you are both Jedi..." The word rolled off his tongue as if he was a child spitting out unwanted creamed broccoli. "... and because you are new here - an objective party. However..." Once again, he tossed the flimsi over his shoulder so that it fluttered and landed on the floor behind him. For the moment, he let it stay there. "If negotiations are not your thing... or working with a Sith an issue for you... then I can simply show you the way to your district, and put you in touch with your people so that you can continue your life's goal of ridding the galaxy of those evil, dark, monstrous Sith." He was holding himself together, but clearly, he wasn't doing it without effort.
  8. The Arrival

    Mirran smiled softly and withdrew the knife from her own throat. "And you have passed my own test...for I had doubts that you would try and stop me. Although weak that I am and not fond of blood. And yet..." Mirran took the knife and lightly scrapped it against Verrin's neck. "You do not fear it, do you?" She sighed. "I am content...you may instruct me as you wish in whatever technique you wish to show me. You have earned my trust...at least enough to keep a blade away from my own throat. Although that may change in the future. At the moment...there is enough trust that you have my attention." She sat down, for she felt weary and she looked at the beverage cart. She was filled with strange feelings and could not describe them. They felt different and were new to her. Her hands fingered another drink and she picked it up and took a sip and nearly coughed, she had something similar during that ill-fated party at the Dantooine Enclave when a Peace Keeper tried to force her wrap from her face. Yet, Mirran was not accustomed to alcohol. She held up the bottle. "What is this? I...I like it. And what do I feel? Everything and nothing. A momentary glimpse of glaring into oblivion....perhaps it is something I should try more often," "
  9. The Arrival

    Again, she avoided the topic - or at least that's what it appeared to be at first. By taking the knife from his neck, she wasn't showing a decisive move to build trust. Instead, she took the knife and held it to her own throat. "And what would you do if I decided not to cut your throat but my own?" She asked. "Bold, though," Verrin admitted to himself, and gave the move more consideration. While it was true she wasn't playing by his rules, not showing trust or betrayal, she was deflecting instead. She was testing his resolve to kill her or not - though surely, she must have already known the answer. He'd told her he wouldn't. So what was her game, exactly? He could tell through the Force that she didn't want to commit suicide - her heart wasn't in it. But then she pressed the knife a little more, enough to draw blood, and her senses in the Force burst with pain. She wasn't accustomed to it, Verrin sensed, and he felt a combination of emotions - pain, pleasure, fear, pride, and more. She was making a decision, choosing to do this, which felt good. But she didn't like pain, not so new to it like she was, so she felt repulsion. But the feelings were new, and likely exciting, if the Jedi had always taught her to avoid it. A Sith might relish in the masochism, but she... she wasn't there yet. Gently, he put his hand on hers and urged the knife away from her neck, all the while ready to catch her should she faint. Quietly, he told her, "What would I do if you were to do that, Miss Kai? I would have questions for you, for certain... like why you would harm yourself... to what end? And more importantly... how does it make you feel, to hold that decision-making power in your hands? How do you feel about choosing what you will do, or not do?"
  10. Wicked Messenger

    Kala had stopped off on her homeworld for supplies you could never have enough supplies at least that's what Kala thought. Kala was mixed over her feelings for her homeworld. She had a mixture of fondness for the place as well as a bit of revulsion and hatred for the place. She had grown up a streetwise kid lacking family or connections. She had fought various groups of orphan kids all her life. Course maybe she had been lucky that she grew up in an orphanage rather than been picked up by one of the gangs on Corellia. But orphanages weren't much better in many respects. There had been many orphans during the war with the Sith Empire. Kala had vowed as a kid she would not be stomped into the ground or be another number like so many other orphans. She imagined that her parents had been heroes or someone with a great lineage. Yet as she grew up she had shredded that mythos she realized she was just another war orphan. She had tracked down her heritage and found out she was orphan number 367893 and she had no name but one that the state-run orphanage had given her. She found out the origins of her name as she tried searching for her past. Her last name Ming, she had been found in an alleyway near a store called Ming's she had been rummaging through a garbage pile along with other kids trying to find food and the eleventh child found there and the eleventh character in Aurebesh "Krill" and the official had named her "Kala". She leaned against the wall of the building. She had a mixed loved for this place. It still was home although for a home it wasn't much. Frankly to her, home was her ship, she had won in a risky venture. She had waged herself, a gutsy move by some. Slavery or freedom. She won her wager and a ship. A Jedi would have said the Force had been with her. Pff....just another fancy name for "Luck" or even "serendipity". She went into the shop and bought a Ruby Bliel and came out sipping it. So it wasn't alcohol but Kala felt like drinking something a bit less intoxicating today.
  11. The Arrival

    Mirran found a knife placed in her hand. And her hand guided towards Verrin's throat. She giggled lightly like a child who was told to cut into a subject for a biology class for the first time. And then Mirran turned red, embarrassed that all her years of displign had failed her. She took the knife from Verrin's throat and then placed the knife against her own throat. "And what would you do if I decided not to cut your throat but my own?" She wondered though how far she could press. It was crazy, reckless and out of character for Mirran to even think of harming herself. Did she even have the guts to do so? But she wondered if the Sith Master would show any concern or rather he would leave her to this fate? It made Mirran wonder enough to dare something as reckless as this. Did he think she was bluffing? That was likely. Yet there was something gripping and potent about harming oneself. Mirran had not realized that till she felt the knife at her own throat. She pressed the knife further it's point a bit deeper and a red crimson bead came from her neck. The pain blossomed...it was raw and...she...gasped. She felt sick inside she disliked blood including her own and she felt and saw her blood in the Force. She felt wooesy and faint. Her legs began to tremble.
  12. The Arrival

    She really was afraid, or so Verrin thought. He sensed it in the Force, but didn't need any special powers to see it. She repeated herself, and avoided his questions. She even re-stated some of her earlier concerns, over her parents, over her being able to choose her fate, and over her beliefs. Verrin was fairly sure she was still processing everything, so she wasn't yet ready to learn. She probably imagined this visit would go some other way, that some violent outburst would occur. And now that it hadn't, she wasn't prepared for the next step. But she put on a face, smiling, and asked questions of her own. What was trust? Betrayal? Or rather, what were they in his mind? "Like the Dark and light sides of the Force, they are opposite sides of the same thing. Betrayal is simple. It is purposefully breaking trust. But what is trust, indeed? Trust is something of an expectation. For example, I trust that if I place my hand on a hot burner, I will harm myself. I trust that when I go to my beverage cart, that my drinks are 'clean', or rather 'not poisoned'. I trust Maggie's programming to have my interests as her focus. My trust is betrayed when those expectations are not met - if I was not to be burned, if I was to be poisoned, or if Maggie suddenly turned and attacked me. It's simple, really. Here. Perhaps I can show you better." Verrin stood up and went around his still-packed desk to the side with drawers. He fiddled with the packing, but eventually withdrew a small utility knife. Nodding in satisfaction, he paced back around the desk and reached down to take Mirran's hand, lifting it and her so that she stood. He then pressed the knife into her palm, and guided her hand up to his own neck before he let go. He just stood there for a moment, face to face with his guest, and her knife at his throat. "This is my definition of trust, Miss Kai. It is now your choice to show me betrayal of that trust - or not. You have the power in your hands to take down a Lord of the Sith, or to build upon this trust. What will it be?"
  13. Being sick sucks....no paycheck and out of money for a doctor. And feeling like crap to boot. I so hate respiratory infections!

  14. The Arrival

    "I came because I felt that you could help me with my parents. And perhaps curiosity. Perhaps I am afraid that I will find answers that I won't like. Afraid that I am turning my back on...." She sighed. "I've said it before...that my parents gave me up to the Order. I have lived my life with the mindset that I would be fulling some sort of obligation to my family...some overreaching vision. But...." Mirran paused. "Another initiate once told me that I should live my life for myself...not based on the wishes or desires of others. I do not think I am cut out for your philosophy or your way of life. I think that perhaps that others of your...group would murder me. It would be like a nerf going to the slaughter. And yet...I am beginning to think that my path may not be fully with the Jedi either. I am afraid of the ramifications of such a thing." Mirran than offered a rare smile. "Let me ask you a question or rather questions. What is trust in your mind? And what is friendship? And what is a betrayal? In your words...I wish to know. Humor me if you will...."
  15. Wicked Messenger

    Selona, 3628 BBY Throughout Darth Tanit's career she had been on the receiving end of trouble that had hindered or ended her progress more frequently than she would have liked to admit. The Republic becoming the prime cause of unrest in the galaxy at-large had more widespread problems that affected her life beyond simply being placed on high alert. She had created an arms manufacturing company while sequestered away on Ziost, and with it she began to funnel portions of those profits into the Sith Remnant that they might rise from their shadowy hiding place on the fringes of society. That had come to a halt with the newly authoritartian government that had gained the majority in the Republic, as they began placing tighter and tighter restrictions on trade and traffic. Tariff costs aside, the oblique attack on her interests was entirely subsumed by the greater risk to her family on Corellia. Her father, though he had been retired for some time, was placed as the CEO of Karnok Arms PLC. As the figurehead of a new arms company that directly competed with more established brands in the galaxy, he was someone who had become a person-of-interest to the Republic. Tanit had no desire to see her father made a puppet of the Republic, nor did she have any designs on allowing Corellia to be truly subdued. She knew better than any how fierce her people guarded their independence, and even though she occupied a new body, her spirit remained firm and steadfast in her heritage. She had to do something to alter the flow of Republic progress on her world, and she needed volunteers. There was a surplus of available minions to do her bidding, but she knew it was likely that Corellia was being monitored more than most worlds given its reputation for independence. Those who were too obvious or too easy to spot in a crowd on a primarily human planet were likely to bring in unwanted attention. Even she knew that being a Zabrak physically would put her out of place were she to pursue this venture personally. While she planned to attend the event, she was going to be guiding the group she selected from the transport. Her familiarity with the Karnok Arms facility would be vital to their success, and she would not be pleased if she had to accept failure or defeat. Direct intervention on her part would only take place if the most dire circumstances were realized and victory would only be assured by a vulgar display of power. "DL-769, please place an open call to arms among the rabble. I aim to assemble a team. It matters not if they are Jedi, Mandalorian, Sith, or otherwise, just that they are ready to fight the Republic should it come to a contest of arms."
  16. Payback

    Verrin huffed air out through his nose. His days of moving crates by hand had vanished nearly forty years ago. It wasn't that he wasn't strong enough - he was physically stronger than he'd ever been, even way back in his youth - but this kind of manual labor made him frown. He'd have an easier time moving the items telekinetically through the Force. Fortunately, he spotted some heavy lifter droids that would manage skids of crates at a time. The issue was reprogramming them. While he had some skill over electronics in the Force, reprogramming wasn't yet part of his repertoire. And his Mandalorian counterpart was apparently not slicer either - they wouldn't be able to execute the commands without a terminal, or linked device. Isa's suggestion to bribe an authority wasn't a bad idea, but her awareness of the visibility were obvious. The more people who saw or knew they were here, the more likely they'd be a future target by the Hutts. They were essentially taking back what belonged to the Sith, but in the eyes of the thieves, they were stealing it back.Verrin rubbed his horned head for a moment. " Visibility... right," he muttered as his eyes and the Force scanned the area. There were three cameras monitoring the area. Once they started moving out in the main hangar, they'd be recorded, or at least noticed. Once they had droids doing their work, THEY would be noticed, but wouldn't likely draw any undue attention. Disabling the cams was easy enough, but would bring someone down to check. Verrin grumbled, "It can't possibly just be easy." He verbalized some of his thoughts. "We bribe... we get noticed. I use the Force to move the stuff, we get noticed. We disable the cams, we get noticed. We use droids, we don't get noticed, but neither you nor I have any realistic way to do that. Argh... this is frustrating." Hopeful, he offered, "What if we created a distraction elsewhere... a focus for them so they wouldn't be looking at the obvious movement here? We could... BAH!" He slammed a gauntleted fist against the wall in frustration. "It'd be easiest to take over the authority offices, kill everyone present, switch off cams, program droids from there, and simply walk away. But that's so fracking messy... media will be all over the place covering the mass murder in the hangar, the Sith will be blamed because well... we're Sith... and... and... BAH!" He was working himself up, and probably looked like he was losing his temper, but in reality, Verrin was well aware of his actions. He was simply tapping into his well of emotions in preparation for Force use. In seconds, the three cameras tore free from their mounting brackets and flew across the hangar to the ship Isa had pointed out. They would not be returning. Verrin then instructed, "Head towards the authority offices and intercept anyone who comes to investigate. Make sure they do not get a visual on this area. Return in ten minutes, and we'll get the frack out of here. Got it?" Just then, one of the pallets of crates lifted off the ground and then flew rapidly towards the back of the ship. They were heavy, but they weren't unmanageable for Verrin's power in the Force. He could lift the entire ship if he needed to. The skid levitated into the back of the ship, and Verrin quickly moved to follow it, and guide it the rest of the way to the hold. He didn't care if they did take some incidental gizkas - he didn't have a list of the exact cargo they were taking back, nor a way to check items off that list as he loaded. So they take everything they could, and hope for the best.
  17. I got a new laptop with Windows 10. I am kind of mixed on it because I am not sure if I can install my old Star Wars games but I'll give it a try later on when I feel up to it. But go Black Friday sales. lol 

  18. Poniard Spacedock Offices

    Tala became aware of an approaching presence, her senses niggling at her from within her meditation. A Sith, by the feel of it. Not surprising, and yet she felt how her muscles wanted to tense, the way her mind tried to instantly pull away from the stillness of meditation. Instinct mingling with learned reflex, with the shadows and ghosts of memory adding their voice to the sudden urge. Any other time, and she would have immediately been on the defensive. Any other time.. But for the peace. Tala let her breath out slowly, easing her mind back to her meditation, forcing her muscles to relax. Awareness of the Sith’s presence was enough, for now. If circumstances changed, she would at least have time to react. She highly doubted they would, but… caution was a hard thing to shed. “You know, they put seats in this room for a reason.” The footsteps had stopped before her, and Tala opened her eyes slowly, faint humour flickering in their depths as she looked up at the Sith who stood above her. And interesting opening, and admittedly not one she had expected. He was dressed in black robes, simple and practical. Even his boots were spartan in nature, the type that could cover any type of terrain and still look much the same. Versatile. He carried a lightsaber, but that was unsurprising. What did intrigue her were the ornate gauntlets he wore, a stark contrast to the otherwise utilitarian outfit he wore. Paired with the glimpse of the earring in his left ear, Tala found herself both curious and cautious of the zabrak. His purple-toned skin, covered in tattoos, was the final piece in an interesting portrait, one that seemed… frustrated, almost, to be here. He glanced at a set of flimsi in his hands. “Are you the Jedi, Tala Vir?” A moment later the question was followed by a second. “Nautolan?” She wasn’t sure, but she thought she sensed some hesitation in the question. Odd. “Not overly comfortable ones,” she answered instead, her tone light. “The floor at least doesn’t pretend to be anything other than mildly uncomfortable. And yes, I’m Tala.” The answer was simple enough, but then so was the question.She found herself still having to suppress the urge to make a defensive move, or at the very least rest her hand on her lightsaber. It would be so easy, to assume a hostile intention. Her training and experiences were at odds with this new peace. She found herself having to consciously instill calm within herself, something she hadn’t needed to do for a very long time. But then how long had it been since a Sith loomed over her, asking questions? The stone pendant around her neck felt heavier, a reminder of the past. She blinked, forcing her mind back to the present, and the very questions that had been asked. “Nautolan,” she confirmed, a faint dryness slipping into her tone. She would have thought her race obvious enough. “Zabrak?” Tala rose to her feet smoothly as she answered, ignoring the way her injuries twinged in protest, humour glinting in her large eyes. Whether he picked it up in the retort was yet to be seen, but it hung between them. Not a rebuke, not quite, but there was an edge there. A slight comment to the odd question, as well as the abruptness of it. She herself stood in stark contrast to the Sith. Where he was dressed in black, she herself was clothed in neutral tones. The only splash of colour on her person was the red sash at her waist, where the first of her two lightsabers hung, and the bands of the same colour that wrapped around the pieces of cloth around her arms and upper legs, an additional layer of protection atop the simple brown trousers and cream coloured tunic she wore. Added to that were a simple pair of sturdy leather boots, and the lightsaber tucked away at the small of her back. Her most distinctive features were those that labeled her as Nautolan - the headtails with a gradient of colours from a reddish-purple to a light green and back, with simple patterns along each. Her skin tone was a light green, fading to the deep red in spots, but overall not as strongly pigmented as many of her kind. There were faint discolorations around her left cheekbone and her throat, matched by more that were hidden beneath her clothing. Each a quiet testimony to further injuries, not all healed by the kolto treatments. Even their heights were offset, though not as drastically as the other differences between them. The zabrak stood a good few inches taller than her. She was thin and leanly muscled as well, granting her no extra bulk against the Sith who stood before her. But something about him caused instinct to urge caution in her mind. He was not young, and that alone spoke volumes. The Sith were not a culture that had many live past their youth. “...Is it always so strange?” Tala asked finally, that glint of humour back in her voice, paired with something deeper. She tilted her head slightly, headtails swaying with the motion. “Coming face to face with someone who would have once been an enemy but is now an ally?” This was going to be difficult. She could feel past memories pushing against her inner mind, trying to assert themselves over the present. She could almost feel the cold air of the caves, hear the rough voices of the leaders of the Sith cult. She'd known this would be hard, that it would bring back memories. She just hadn't expected them to be so tenacious. Still, she pushed them aside once more, choosing not to dwell on them. She could only imagine what he must be thinking. Was it similar to her own thoughts? She wondered if there memories of his own that were rising to the surface, brought back into his mind's focus with the sudden change in definitions of who was an enemy and who was an ally.
  19. Payback

    Isa couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth at the dar'jetii’s statement. She tapped the side of her helmet in agreement to his reference to comms - her own systems had the same embedded, along with a secure channel, should she need it. “Mandos work with embedded comms, but also body language. We grow up and train surrounded by people in armour - you learn to read the people around you rather well. Never realise how much you rely on it until you’re with someone who had entirely different training. Next time we make sure we can communicate,” she said wryly. “Though a bell is at least shiny.” She was surprised at the lack of protest from the Sith as she dosed each of the guards - she had expected an argument, especially after the fight they’d just gone through. But he seemed content to allow her drug to do its work, and she couldn’t complain there. The door was apparently no issue for him, anyways. Isa felt her eyebrows lift as the locks suddenly released, allowing them to enter following a gesture from the Sith. Not exactly inspiring insofar as her faith in digital locks went. Those on her ship were more complex, but she still made a mental note to see what she could do to beef up the security on it. Especially with so many jetii and dar’jetii around these days… They entered into a storeroom, and Isa sighed as she took in the crates stacked around them. Of course. They would have the luck of an efficient crew that had already offloaded the ship. Nothing was ever a stroke of genius luck, was it? There always seemed to be some sort of manual labour involved. “Any ideas?” Darth Verrin asked, earning a small huff of laughter from Isa. “Aside from the obvious?” she asked dryly. She moved further into the storeroom, running one gloved hand along the crates, allowing the sensors embedded in the cloth to scan each one. Unfortunately, she received only the most general of information, earning another sigh. “Anything specific we’re looking for here?” she asked slowly, nodding to the crates. “If we’re going to have to do this manually, I’d like to make sure we get the right things, not some poor shabuir’s new pet gizka.” She was shaking her head as she said it though. Too slow. Trying to load all of this was going to be too shabla slow, and the fight in the halls wasn’t going to go unnoticed forever. Isa crossed to the other end of the storeroom, ducking through the door to the hangar beyond. Surely there was something here to speed things up. It wasn’t unlikely that some of the droids used to offload the ship might still be around, and if they could task at least a few of them with reloading the ship, combined with only grabbing specific items, they might be able to grab what they needed in time. “See if you can find any of the droids that we can use to load this thing,” Isa said finally, nodding to the ship. “If we can’t find specifically what we need, I can try to get in touch with docking bay authorities. A bribe might go a longer way than we expect. I’d rather not have to though - that kind of thing is memorable, and only offers as much loyalty as you have credits. It’s information waiting to be sold to a higher bidder.” She had no doubt the Sith was well aware of everything she’d just said, but at this point she was thinking out loud more than anything. Shab, buir. One of these days I’ll learn to plan like you, she thought wryly, shaking her head. She’d never been much of one for detailed plans, usually flying by intuition and sheer luck. Her father was the planner. In cases like these, she wished she had inherited that particular trait...
  20. @Tala Vir : Check your PMs and threads.  Sorry for the delay, but I did post.  Happy Thanksgiving? :)

    1. Tala Vir

      Tala Vir

      Merp, sorry! Have the bad habit of forgetting to log in xD Happy Thanksgiving to you too!

  21. Poniard Spacedock Offices

    "Honestly..." Verrin muttered to himself, as his booted feet thunked accompaniment to his march down the hall. "I feel like I was just here a week ago," (it had been more than that) "to babysit a Mandalorian, of all people, and now... NOW they send me here to retrieve a... a... a JEDI?" The flimsi in his hands went flying over his shoulder in a fit of frustration, but the Force quickly yanked the file back to his grip before he'd taken ten more steps. He wasn't a litterbug, after all. He finally arrived at the waiting room corridor - this time, he wasn't the early one. A young woman sat on the floor, "Probably in meditation," Verrin wryly thought to himself. He continued his steady pace and walked directly up to her. She might not be who he was looking for... but she just might be that. His outward appearance was fairly mundane, for a Sith Lord. H didn't buy into the whole fancy robes, noble dress, and heavy adornment. Instead, he wore a simple-looking black half-robe, belted at the waist. Its joints were padded over in black leather, and it bore a cowl that he had drawn up over his horned head. His pants were simple, and also black, and one of his signature trademarks were the simple, black, functional boots that he wore - the same issue that was given to new recruits at an Academy, almost as if he was stating in his appearance that he hadn't forgotten where he'd come from. The extended hilt of his lightsaber was tucked into his belt, but that's all he appeared to be armed with. And the only significant items that stood out in his apparel, were a pair of black gauntlets he wore, that looked very, very old and ornate, and a single jeweled earring glinted from beneath the cowl, worn in his left ear. His skin, on the other hand, probably stood out. It was an odd color for a Zabrak - a dusky, lavender tone. It's rarity was similar to albinism in humans, but it was largely covered over in a variety of black tattoo work - some of the markings were tribal, others elaborate, and still others simply connected the entire works. Closer inspection would show a variety of scars and burns beneath the black ink, as well as the lines on his aged face. He was not a young man... not anymore... though he could make the argument that his apparent age was earned through years, and not corruption from the Dark Side. That left other marks, in other ways. He addressed the seated woman, "You know, they put seats in this room for a reason." He glanced at his flimsi once more, "Are you the Jedi, @Tala Vir?" He half-expected her to leap up, lightsaber flailing. But maybe this whole alliance had reached her ears already. Ears... right... he added, "Nautolan?" The last Nautolan he'd known had lost a saber duel with his apprentice, and her arm was the result of it. In a fit of rage, as the girl tried to kill herself by continuing the fight, Verrin had beaten the girl with her own arm. He assumed that not all Nautolans were so... crazed, but it made sense to make sure ahead of time.
  22. Well my laptop decided to break. Quite literally actually. The charging port is broken and I can't charge it. I mulled it over on whether to repair or get out and buy a "new" one or at least an affordable one. Considering the fact that I am having issues with it other than the charging port. I think the HD is about to die. I am thinking more and more likely a new laptop is likely.

  23. Happy Thanksgiving!!

     

    And I have a question: Ham or Turkey?? I like ham.

    1. Mirran Kai

      Mirran Kai

      Turkey for Thanksgiving and Ham for Christmas. At least with my family that's the way it rolls.

    2. Marri

      Marri

      Ick, turkey. We have both at my house and we're having some sort of roast for Xmas...I forgot the name of it xD

  24. Bit delayed on everything - dealing with the scramble of graduating from Master's, etc., so I may be a bit slow for responses x.x Sorry!

  25. I absolutely adore flu season.

  26. Payback

    "Next time we’re going to have to get you a bell or something," Isa remarked, and it took Verrin a second or two to realize she was being funny. He smirked in reply, nodded his understanding, and offered, "Usually - when I prepare for these sorts of engagements, I wear a mask with a commlink. Does wonders for on-the-fly communication. Plus... it doesn't ring-a-ling my location to the enemies." He looked her over - she appeared to be in one piece. He expected nothing less from the galaxy's arguably most-elite mercenaries, but he knew he wouldn't have wanted to stand up and take that much blaster fire. As it was, the blaster burn in his shoulder was going to leave a nasty bruise... and he'd have to get his robe mended. But Isa was already moving on, and injecting the guards with some sort of drug. Verrin nodded in approval. He was a fan of biochemistry, and while he might have preferred more lethal measures, he couldn't knock his partner's reasoning and methodology. It would do. She got up, and Verrin mused that she made it look easy - with all that armor on, he was fairly sure he wouldn't have looked so smooth. But she was already moving past him towards something, and that left Verrin to wonder if she saw another threat. Her hand was on her blaster, but Verrin couldn't sense any imminent danger in the Force. SHe eventually stopped at a door that looked like so many others to him, and she turned to have her helmeted 'face' looking at him. "You want to do the honours?" She asked, indicating the door with a tilt of her helmet. Verrin shrugged and stepped in front of her. The door was locked, but that wasn't anything that concerned him. The lock was electronic, and it was easy enough for him to disable it using a Force technique. He reached a hand to the panel, though he silently chided himself for being so weak-minded as to make a gesture while using a power that didn't require it. Beneath his gauntleted hand, there was a spark, and an audible click, as the lock gave up and opened for him. He then opened the door to look inside. Sure enough, it was a storeroom, and there were crates piled high in every direction. Aisles between them made it possible to navigate the room, and in short order, he and Isa figured out that the other end of the storeroom had a large rollup door that probably opened into a docking bay of some sort. The crates would have been taken off the ship, and stored here temporarily. But now they were left with the menial task of loading up a ship or some kind of conveyance with them. Verrin frowned. That would take time. His hands manipulated a panel near the rollup door, and it automatically raised, revealing what he expected - the arse-end of a ship of some sort. It also showed them a long, wide hangar, where hoverlifts and droids would normally move the freight to other, similar, storage rooms or vehicles. Verrin huffed air out through his nose in a sigh. "Any ideas?"
  27. The Arrival

    "Finally," Verrin thought as Mirran spoke her concerns. They weren't the answers to the questions he offered, but they were valuable insight into the mind of the woman. Her three word finale, 'I am afraid', was as honest and forthcoming as she'd been about herself. Verrin nodded, but didn't leave the area of the beverage cart - not yet. "Of what, Miss Kai? Afraid of me? Or afraid that your mind will be open to ideas and thoughts that you've never had before? How could a Sith teach you? You've probably been taught, over and over again, to never trust a thing a Sith says. And here I am, going on and on about this and that. You're curious... brave enough to come along, inquisitive enough to converse and share ideas. But yes, you're afraid of something. It's normal, I suppose. It's just been so long since I was in your position, that I've forgotten what it's like. You have my sincere apology." He tossed back the bourbon and set down the glass, then walked back over to take a seat beside her once more. "I think we both know what you're afraid of, really. It's not me - not personally, anyway. If I had wanted you dead, you'd already be so. I don't, so that's not in question. You're not afraid that I'll shatter your Jedi-trained faith. I'm sure you're resilient enough to fight me if that was in question, and smart enough to leave in order to avoid that situation altogether. I won't lie - I would love it if you saw our way and wanted to turn to the Sith. But I don't think you're ready for that yet. You may never be, and that's fine too. You're afraid of the same things everyone is - a fear of the unknown, a fear of change. The things you know have been turned upside-down - Sith and Jedi are working together towards a common goal. The enemy of our enemy is our friend. And how could Sith possibly have your interests in mind? You've always been told they do not. You cannot trust them. So the first thing we must establish, in order for any instructor-student relationship to build, is trust. What can we do to start down that path, Miss Kai? Would you like me to speak with your masters first? Would you prefer if I put a set of bars between us when we talk? Would you hold hands, share a secret? What can I do to start earning your trust?" He didn't sound eager, but neither did he sound insincere.
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