Jump to content

Sihna Dreysel

  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation


About Sihna Dreysel

  • Rank

Profile Information

  • Gender
  • Main Account

Recent Profile Visitors

1,018 profile views
  1. Job stuff/IRL have me delayed/crazy busy atm x.x not dead, but overwhelmed with stuff atm, sorry x.x

  2. Am (in theory) back once more. Will try to catch up on owed posts in the next few days. Sorry for the delay!

  3. Offline for a week or so again. Apologies, IRL stuff has come up

  4. Swift Reckoning

    Sihna couldn’t help but be impressed by Viraen’s sheer vocabulary, and the creative ways he managed to string some of his curses together. She was fairly certain there was a decent amount she wasn’t hearing, as his comm was usually muted. Still, she heard enough to be slightly envious. She was most fluent in Mando’a, and so that was what she fell back on for cursing. Viraen seemed to have a much… broader education. Sihna started moving forward again, forcing herself to go faster and take riskier routes as the emergency signal repeated again. They were out of time, which meant they needed to move quickly. Sihna let her limited HUD scans inform her choices, relying more on instinct that pure logic to make her way through. She climbed up and over a beam, avoiding two sparking cables that looked to be carrying a decent amount of power through them. Sihna’s comm came to life, this time bringing a message from Tecce, relayed by R6. “If they're in trouble, then we have no time to waste. Sorry, but we’re going to have to rush." Rush? How was she planning to - “Tecce wait, stop!” Sihna shouted the command as soon as she realised what the young woman meant. The debris was far more unstable than it appeared - a fact that Sihna had demonstrated to herself more than once throughout the process of trying to get through. But Sihna’s warning was too late, and suddenly the whole mass of debris began to shift - not monumentally, but just enough to upset the precarious balance of metal, wires, and gravity. Suddenly Sihna’s path was no longer stable forcing her to throw her weight to the side to compensate, struggling not to launch herself over the edge. One of the cables she’d noted earlier swung wildly, jostled but the sudden movement all around it. Sihna threw herself back but it caught her left arm, sending a surge of electricity through the mechanical limb. Sihna jerked back reflexively, agony slamming into her senses and earning a shout of pain. The small platform beneath her suddenly gave way and Sihna cursed in surprise, fighting to regain her balance as she was thrown sideways. There was nothing for her to grab on to and her left arm wasn’t responding, the joints locked up from the surge of electricity. She felt herself sliding, her right arm catching nothing as she sought desperately for a handhold, and then she was falling. Sihna’s shoulder slammed into a piece of metal she couldn’t see and something heavy slammed into her helmet even as metal squealed around her, following her descent. Her leg caught between two of the beams, wrenching her to a halt and earning a cry of pain. A large slab of metal - likely a piece of wall or ceiling - above her squealed as its own support gave way, sending it hurtling down. Sihna twisted, wrenching herself away from the falling metal as best she could even as the one that had halted her descent collapsed as well. Pain exploded through Sihna’s shoulder and arm as she crashed all the way down, earning a shout even as she flung her other arm out, debris clattering off the armoured plating. The falling slab slammed into her arm and drove it down, pinning her to what was left of the floor. Sharp metal dug into her back and hip where she’d hit the floor, a mark that she wasn’t on flat or solid ground. Her reflexive action had saved her throat from being crushed by the debris that had followed her down, but she couldn’t move, and the weight of the metal slab against her arm pressed down onto her throat and chest, causing her to fight for breath and pressing her against the shattered metal flooring at her back and its sharp edges. Agony coursed through her even as Sihna fought to bring her thoughts back into order, forcing back panic. The whole thing had taken only a matter of moments, and she fought to bring her thoughts back into order, her breathing strained and ragged. Panic wouldn’t help her here and neither would anger, it would only make her situation worse. No more debris were shifting in her area, though she could still hear the squealing of metal and the sparking of electricity as other areas shifted, resettled, and fell. Still, she forced herself to focus, ignoring the pain that crashed over her in waves as she struggled to take stock of her situation. She was pinned in two places, the beam that had caught her leg now pinned her at her right ankle, her body twisted oddly thanks to her fall. She hadn’t landed fully on the ground, instead half on a pile of wreckage she couldn’t see and half on the destroyed deck plating of what had once been the floor. The remains of the floor beneath her creaked ominously, groaning beneath the sudden addition of weight. The metal slab that had fallen now pinned her left arm, the mechanical limb sending waves of pain through Sihna. It had also pinned her right arm to her chest, her forearm and wrist in front of her throat - that barrier alone had kept her throat from being crushed or her neck snapped by the falling piece. A small metal beam had caught the slab as well, crossing her ribs and digging in, but its wedged position against the wall was holding some of the weight off of Sihna. Her HUD was flashing a series of warnings, but Sihna was struggling to read them. She could taste blood in her mouth and feel it on her forehead and chin, but she didn’t think she was bleeding majorly. Her biggest problems were the pieces pinning her in place - as far as she could tell she had avoided any life-threatening injuries, but she couldn’t move and couldn’t extract herself to be able to assess her own condition any further. Sihna’s comm had been open through the whole fall, so she didn’t have to unmute it to contact the other two. Worry was clear in her words as she spoke, but she was calmer now. “Viraen, Tecce, talk to me, are you alright? I can’t…” it was a struggle to get the words out, the weight of the metal slab preventing her from drawing a full breath. But her words were remarkably calm, the struggle to make them so evident only in the faint tremor of her voice and the thickening of her accent. “I can’t move, I’m pinned-” Sihna shouted in pain as the debris shifted again, earning a string of curses in Mando’a. “Osik! The whole shabla thing collapsed, the path I took is closed. Tecce, don’t...” Sihna stopped to catch her breath, as well as reign in her own temper. “Don’t move anything else. It’s unstable. Shab, the whole thing might come down.” Sihna closed her eyes, fighting to clear her head, to think. She didn’t know if Viraen was alright, and fear settled into the pit of her stomach. He was in the midst of the maze of debris as well. If he’d been hit by one of the heavier slabs, or one of the beams had fallen...
  5. A Helping Hand

    Keldabe, Mandalore Selona, 3628 BBY She’d done it to herself, really. Sihna knew that with utter clarity, but it still didn’t make her overly excited about having to go to Keldabe. She’d been home not even a week, and already she was stepping out again, taking on another task, trying to help where she could. Normally it wouldn’t bother her, but normally she wasn’t being asked by someone’s alor on their behalf. After she’d opened her shabla mouth. Which had led her here, back to Keldabe. Arguably where it had all started, at least for her. Sihna hadn’t been back to Keldabe for close to six years now. All her visits to Manda’yaim had been limited to the Dreysel vheh’yaime, all of them far from the city, out in the wilds. She’d heard the rumours that had started circling, one theory amongst many about what had happened to Corey Black, and that made her all the more reluctant to return to the city itself. But there wasn’t much choice in the matter, not really. Not when refusing to return meant refusing to aide a vod. “Ris, watch your step,” Sihna’s voice was calm, a note of amusement running through it as she caught the shoulder of the little girl scampering before her, steadying the child before she could fully lose her balance. The little girl looked back with a grin in thanks, before scampering off once more, weaving between Mando’ade in her quest for adventure. Sihna shook her head in amusement as the little girl darted around, giggling when she bumped into armoured forms in the street or dodged through a crowd for a glimpse at some small trinket she found fascinating. Ris was another reason Sihna had opted for the visit to Keldabe - it was market day, something which the little girl had discovered a love for when other members of clan Dreysel had helped Sihna watch after her young charge. “Kel’s going to have his hands full with her,” Farren’s voice came from behind Sihna, filled with open amusement, and Sihna laughed. Farren knew well how much of a handful Sihna’s young charge could be - she and the rest of Clan Dreysel often watched the girl while Sihna was away on any outing too dangerous for the girl. Ris was not a Mandalorian, so she lacked the intense training most children even as young as she was possessed on Manda’yaim. But Sihna was only her caretaker, and the girl’s mother was not a Mando. Sihna had chosen to respect that. “Kel loves it,” Sihna countered, amusement sparkling in her eyes. Her cyar’ika was well loved by Ris, and Kel was always happy to help Sihna take care of and raise the little girl. He was better with kids than she was, though Sihna was working hard to learn. Thankfully Ris had proved to be forgiving of any mistakes thus far. The small party wove their way towards the Oyu’baat - Sihna would be meeting Kel a little later to drop Ris off, but she was supposed to meet up with Viraen Kyrdol first. Sihna had met the man earlier, during the rescue mission on a medical station out in Wild Space. She’d not expected to meet up with him again so soon, but the request had been made following her own expression of concern to his alor. The Oyu’baat was both a place of business and a more casual meeting place, with vode from practically every line of work making their appearance here fairly often. It was a part of Mandalore as much as the people who inhabited it, giving the place yet another flair of character. Sihna glanced around the room as she and her small party ducked inside, making her way over to one of the tables closer to the back. She removed her helmet as she wove her way through the crowd, clipping it to her side as her small group followed her away from the crush of vode gathered at the bar. This early it was mostly talk and food being sought after, but there were always some who were already ordering alcohol. The atmosphere in the Oyu’baat was a mix, but overall a heavy weight seemed to rest on the shoulders of those gathered. It was true even of the vode out in the market, the last few years weighing heavily on all of them, no matter their clan. So many had lost something in recent years - whether it be in the civil war, or this newfound fight with the Republic, or even in the multitude of contracts and bounties Mandos still took all over the galaxy. This was where they came to heal - with drinking, camaraderie, fighting, or a mix of all three. More than a few made their way here in hopes of a fight breaking out. It was a release, a way to lash out at the whole shabla galaxy. Vod could punch vod in a brawl in the Oyu’baat and they could leave laughing and better friends than when they came in. Sihna herself had been involved in more than one fight here, and she found herself reminiscing as she made her way through the crowd, a wry smile twisting her lips. She wasn’t about to try to pretend that she’d never been the one sitting in a corner just itching for some di’kutla fight to break out so she could be one of many to jump in. She’d yet to sit down when a man rose from a nearby table and made his way over. Sihna lifted one eyebrow, noting the way his gait wobbled unsteadily. Her hope that he was simply on his way to the ‘freshers was short lived. He stopped before their small booth, leaning over and planting his hands on the table, blocking the three of them from taking a seat. “You’re the Dreysel…” he seemed to struggle to find the words, no doubt fighting the effects of whatever he had imbibed. “I recognise you. Used to fight in the arenas. Got the osik beaten out of you a few times. ‘Specially at the beginning…” his words were slurred, and he looked her up and down as if gauging the woman he saw before him, comparing the current Sihna with the one who had fought on the sands years ago. “...Thought you were taller. How in haran you supposed to be the one who killed Black? He was…” the man gestured vaguely, indicating a height well above what Corey had actually been. Sihna leaned away from the inebriated man, lifting one eyebrow at the heavy smell of alcohol on his breath. Some of the nearby conversations had halted, their participants falling silent to see how Sihna might answer the question. Sihna could see Farren tense - Corey Black’s disappearance and the rumours that attributed his death to her was a topic Sihna had never discussed, not even with her own clan. Farren could likely guess Sihna wasn’t about to start now. “Started early, don’t you think vod?” Sihna asked, careful to keep her tone light and even, shaking her head slightly at Farren. She could see the tension in the man’s body, hear the haunted tone in his voice. Shab, whatever had happened to him must have been bad - Mandos didn’t crack easily, and the man before her looked all but shattered. Itching for a fight to mask whatever pain he was walking through and give him relief from the memories that undoubtedly stalked him. Sihna knew the feeling. She’d been standing in his shoes more than once, picking a fight because at least then the pain made sense. “Fighting me isn’t going to solve your problems, ner vod,” Sihna said gently. “And I guarantee it’s not going to help you feel better, either. So take a seat.” The man lurched forward and Sihna’s armoured arm shot between Ris and the Mando as he loomed over the little girl, moving Ris behind her gently but swiftly. The Oyu’baat was rife with tension, a fight just begging to break out with the wrong word or action. Osik, she didn’t have time for this. The man swung a fist at Sihna, apparently done looking for an excuse to start a fight and opting to just try to start one anyways. Sihna simply shifted her weight, allowing the blow to pass her by. “Farren-” Sihna’s voice was a warning, but the other woman was already moving, sweeping Ris into her arms. Sihna didn’t think the man intended to harm Ris, but the little girl already looked scared, no doubt able to sense the sudden tension in the room. The man had stumbled a step and was frowning, apparently confused at the fact Sihna had managed to avoid the blow and wasn’t striking back. “Got it, alor,” Farren’s own voice was calm, but Sihna knew it was for the sake of the little girl she was now balancing on her hip, rather than any bystanders. No doubt she was looking forward to seeing them with broken noses, but Farren knew her priorities. Ris might not be a Mando, not really. But the Dreysels rallied around the little girl like one of their own. “Fight, you chakaar,” the man growled, the words coming out in more of a slur than a snarl. But Sihna could hear the desperation in it. “Any other day, I’d be happy to oblige. But not today, vod,” Sihna replied. “Go home. Sleep it off. This won’t help.”
  6. Swift Reckoning

    Viraen’s sudden motion caught Sihna’s eye and she glanced up tilting her helmeted head in question as he slapped the side of his helmet. He offered an excuse about sensor feedback, but she’d seen nothing of the sort in the feed hooked up to her own HUD. Not to mention he was a terrible liar - there was a tension in his voice that said more than his words. Still, Sihna said nothing, choosing to allow the comment to pass. Only when it happened a second time did she swap to a private channel. “If something’s wrong, vod, give a shout. We’ll help as best we can,” it was a simple statement, one she chose carefully to avoid pushing for information or placing him in a tight spot. His business was his own, but if it interfered with his ability to get through this, she’s rather know. At least then she could watch his back. Still, she doubted he would take her up on the offer - they were all but strangers, vode or no. "Splitting up at this point given our comms situation is a bad idea. If the station gets any worse, with sensors as bad as they are, comms will be the next thing to become compromised. As for which route we take, they're both far from ideal choices, but I'll still take a cramped hallway over the potential of room to room clearing, I'm not sure about the two of you." Viraen’s answer was solid, and Sihna nodded in answer. Tece held up her own handheld comm in answer to Sihna’s question, earning a slight sigh but a nod as well. Sihna had expected as much, in the end. She and Viraen could communicate easily enough then, they’d not need to speak aloud and risk being overheard - comms were safer, even if they were all staying together. They’d just have a slight delay while routing comms through R6 for Tecce. The woman seemed to understand the droid easily, meaning it would at least keep any conversations from being instantly recogniseable to anyone who might be nearby. Provided they don’t speak droid… Still, there wasn’t much other option at this point, and there was no time to try to sort something else. Tece spoke, drawing Sihna’s attention back even as she turned off the holo-emitter in her gauntlet. She had a small copy of it within her HUD that would offer her live updates as new intel came in. "Splitting up at this point is not the wisest course of action. And I agree, room to room would also not be a good thing. Too many ways for situations to go sideways fast in those conditions. Besides, I like you two already. Would hate to turn around and see you disappear because I took a wrong turn or something." Sihna laughed softly at the comment, offering a nod even as she straightened, sliding her spear into the holder for it at her back. She wouldn’t have the space for it in the more cramped corridor, if the specs were anything to go by. She tamped down on her unease at working with a force-user, jetii or otherwise. It brought too many memories to the forefront of her mind - memories dredged up by her time on that shabla moon… Tecce isn’t him, Sihna. He’s gone, you’re fighting ghosts and jumping at small similarities. Don’t assume she’s the same just because she’s apparently a force user. Sihna smiled slightly at the droid’s enthusiasm as it chipped in, the beeps drawing her away from darker thoughts as the sound were translated to words by Tecce. Sihna nodded in its direction, careful to acknowledge it as an individual. She’d run into enough droids with personalities to err on the side of safety... “That sounds like a good plan, R6. Wait until we’re in a less damaged area though. It won’t help anyone if your systems getting fried by a damaged port.” Sihna drew two small blades from a hidden sheathe at each of her thighs as she finished speaking. The edges of the blades were wickedly sharp, glinting slightly in the light of the cargo bay as Sihna adjusted her grip on them. She’d need something she could move in tight spaces with, which ruled out both her spear and her staff. Even her beskad would be tricky, so she was opting to go the close-range route. Following that, she patched R6 into the direct comm link, allowing him access to the info her HUD was providing and giving them a secure way to communicate. “We’re likely to run into some signal jamming, if the Republic has any brains,” Sihna spoke. A moment later her words were followed by the quick, almost cheerful beeps of Tece’s droid as R6 relayed her words to the jetii. Or, former jetii, it would seem, if she was running with a Mando clan. “Our comms should hold well enough with a direct link, but it might get a bit spotty,” Sihna glanced at her two companions, her words calm but serious. “Oya, vode. Let’s get our people out of this mess.” They exited the cargo bay quickly, making their way towards the small access corridor that had been decided as their route. Sihna found herself mentally cursing the lack of sensors, aware that it was severely limiting not only what they could see, but also the options they had in getting through this whole fiasco. And time was not on their side. Getting to the access tunnel was not as simple as it had appeared on the holo, and more than once the small group had to backtrack and retrace their steps in order to find a path that both they and R6 could manage to get through. Sihna was amazed that her two taller companions were managing as well as they were - she herself was struggling to make it through some of the debris, having to squeeze through more than one tight spot in order to continue on. She was staring at another such obstacle, support beams and deck plating that had been ripped from the surrounding ceiling and walls and had provided a tangled mass of metal and exposed wiring that sparked ominously. There were small gaps through the obstruction caused by beams wedged in odd places or deck plating that had twisted in strange ways. Sihna’s HUD could only provide meagre scans, but what she did see implied that there might be a path through, though it was going to be one haran of a thing to find it. But there was no way around it except through, and Sihna couldn’t help but shake her head wryly. She’d sworn once to stay well away from electricity after being hit by the effects of a Darth’s influence over lightning in a training exercise. She still had the scars from the marks that particular incident had left, both in terms of the burns she’d received and the branching vein-like scars particular to lightning. Her beskar was now padded so if she did brush up against any of the exposed cables it would at least be dampened. Still less than fun though, and an experience she’d much rather not recreate. “Osik,” Sihna cursed, shaking her head. “No help for it, we’ll have to go through and try to clear some of it from the other side. Viraen, try coming through with me, I’ll need help on the other side. Tecce, see if you and R6 can help clear a path from this side so we all make it through. I don’t know if you can…” Sihna gestured vaguely, miming lifting the debris telekinetically. She had no idea what the woman's talents were, or even if she could lift things with the Force, but it seemed worth the suggestion. ...Even if it did creep her out a bit, “once we clear some of it, but it’s worth a shot. You won’t be able to until we shift some pieces ourselves though. We don’t have time to backtrack, and we can’t leave R6 here.” She didn’t stop to think how much she may or may not have revealed about her own contact with force-users in her observation, aware that it was likely more than she’d consider ideal. But there was little for it. Sihna began picking her way through the debris as quickly as she dared, but being careful not to brush up against the exposed cabling. She paused only a couple of steps in, looking over her shoulder at Viraen. “Avoid the sparky bits, vod,” she offered, amusement evident in her tone. She then muted her comm as she started through in earnest, murmuring a steady stream of curses in Mando’a. Beams and twisted deck plating meant it wasn’t a ground-only approach, requiring her to climb through some areas, and lift herself up to squeeze through others. She could see paths where she would need to wedge herself between two obstacles to then almost roll over to the other side of them. Viraen might be able to follow her, but in some sections she had little doubt he’d have to find his own way. She was only about halfway through, wedged between two beams that had fallen into a near-parallel fashion that required her to climb up in order to then go through, when an alert flashed to life in Sihna’s HUD, and she halted, motioning for Viraen - wherever he was - to do the same. She didn’t pay much attention to whether or not he did so as an open comm suddenly crackled to life. Most of the message was garbled beyond understanding and shrouded in static, but a few words stood out. “Holding… anybody out… need help. Emergency…. -eed Medical aid… Sector 9, barricaded in… hel-...” The signal sputtered for a moment, then repeated, the message clearly recorded, with only some managing to make its way through the interference of the station. Sihna set her HUD to work on the data, hissing and shaking her head when an alert popped up on her screen. “I can’t clean it up, it was damaged when it was sent - just a few minutes ago. That’s likely all we’ll get out of it.” She waited to hear the others thoughts, the message repeating once more... “Holding… anybody out… need help. Emergency…. -eed Medical aid… Sector 9, barricaded in… hel-...”
  7. Swift Reckoning

    “Naak, vod. Caution is good, but let’s not make an enemy either,” Sihna spoke over comms in answer to Viraen’s expression of caution, but her own attention never wavered from the jetii. It was enough to place her off-balance, she had to admit. Clan Tyrr was certainly playing their cards close to their chest if this woman was truly one of theirs. Not that Sihna could really blame them. Mandalorians weren’t known for being welcoming of force-users, and with a civil war still in recent memory, she seriously doubted the clan would want to bring that kind of scrutiny onto themselves, or even outright hostility. "Now seeing as I've gone to the trouble of introducing myself, it would only be polite for you to introduce yourselves." Sihna raised both eyebrows at the woman’s straight-forward attitude. Not rude, exactly. But a far cry from polite, too. Still, Sihna swapped from internal comms to her suit’s speakers with a quick command, allowing Tece to hear her once more. “When you’re meeting up with a group of vode in beskar and you’re not, best expect some hesitance,” Sihna explained, her voice calm as she sheathed the throwing blade for the second time. She chose not to bristle at the woman’s words, well aware that it would get them nowhere. “For all we know, you’re not one of us. And introductions first set us up for a shiv in the back.” She tilted her head in greeting, readjusting her weight as she leaned against her spear once more. “I’m Sihna Dreysel. I’m assuming you got the same intel we did, so I doubt we need to go into much detail before we get moving.” She glanced around the cargo bay again, that same unease settling in her stomach at Tece’s remark. She wasn’t the only one to notice and wonder, then. Viraen had pointed it out as well. “It might be relevant to our mission, but it’s far from central. We’re not here for the cargo, but whatever Mandos and civilians are still alive after an assault like this,” Sihna answered, but she was shaking her head. “Still. Seems odd that Pubs would take the time to strip a bay when the place hasn’t been won yet. Pirates, sure. But it's not exactly Republic protocol. And not so shabla quickly…” Sihna pointed to a number of drag marks on the floor, scratches that were deep and shining - clearly new. “They cleared this place out in a hurry. Not just lightweight, easy to move items, but heavy pieces. And the loading droids, too. Only things left are either worthless or bolted down,” she shook her head, an exasperated sigh escaping her. “But we don’t have time to try to figure out what, exactly, is missing. The longer we wait, the more vode die and the more civilians we have on our conscience. Whatever the Republic is looking for, they want it badly. Viraen and I have already compared notes - this section was a slaughter, but no Mando’ade here. We need to move and find out where they are and if they’re still fighting.” She turned back to Tece, tilting her head at the woman. “Viraen and I have a secure HUD-to-HUD connection for comms, so we can speak solely on that channel. Do you have a comm system we can patch in? Preferably one that isn’t handheld. We need to communicate without alerting anyone nearby. If not, we can patch in your droid and have it relay intel to you. It won’t be efficient, but it’s better than shouting out our intentions for anyone to hear.” Whatever the woman’s answer, Sihna then brought up a small holo-projector from her left gauntlet, keying in a series of commands that then caused the device to flicker to life. A small blueprint of the station came up, based upon the intel all three of them had been given, and overlaid with the data Sihna herself had already gathered, and that Viraen’s intel had provided her with. The section they were currently in was a mess, with most of the map left dark - there was little data coming in from sensors, and what had been provided before was only minorly helpful with all the damage to the section. They were going in nearly blind, and Sihna was willing to bet they all knew it. “Our sensors are shot to haran, but that means theirs are too. They’ll know we landed, no avoiding that. But they won’t be able to trace us, not for a while at least. Best if we move quickly, and keep that advantage as long as we can. Our intel tells us that our own forces were sealing themselves off near the centre of the station when the distress call was sent. We’ve heard nothing since then, so we have to assume those defenses have held thus far. I’m guessing we’ll have to fight our way through more than one sector. We have multiple points of approach, but none of them are clean.” Her words were quick and to the point, wasting no time. She pointed out three corridors, using her HUD to mark them red on the hologram. “All three of these were blocked off with debris, sealed from the security grid, and two were on fire still, despite suppression systems. We’ll need to find an alternate route through. Preferably one that will allow for tall people in armour, and a droid,” humour laced her words, making a smile beneath her helmet not unlikely. “There’s two other sectors we can try. The first is a small, straightforward access tunnel. It merges into two larger pathways, based off of these two rooms,” she pointed it out on the holo, allowing it to highlight to make itself clear. “And a second, longer route that goes along the interior of the sector but has a more winding path connecting it to a series of rooms, but it’s further away from the heart of where we can guess the worst damage was, meaning it’s more likely to be accessible. In addition there are maintenance shafts and the like, but I doubt we’ll get your droid through, Tyrr, and there’s no guarantee they haven’t collapsed. We could get ourselves lost in that maze for hours if we aren’t careful.” Sihna glanced up, turning her helmeted head to each of them so the motion was easy to interpret. “We could also split up. I am hesitant about that option, personally, as there is no guarantee we would be able to meet back up, or that one party or another wouldn’t run into problems too big for them to sort. But it is an option.” She fell silent, allowing the two of them to assess the situation themselves and offer their opinions. She was not the leader of this group - it was not in her power to make a decision that they would all have to follow and abide by...
  8. Taking a bit of a mini-hiatus through at least Friday, if not the weekend, due to some irl reasons that will take my entire focus. This will go for Tala and Isa as well. Will be back as soon as I'm able :)

  9. Swift Reckoning

    A flash of metal caught the light as Sihna slid one of her many throwing knives back into its hidden sheathe, the new arrival’s words crackling over her comm. One of her allies, it would seem, at least from his address. She wasn’t inclined to disbelieve the introduction, though she supposed there was always a small chance he was lying. But he’d known where to meet, was garbed in distinct beskar’gam, and even from his introduction his information conferred with her own. She had no special reason to distrust him. He’d stepped into the cargo bay, lowering his rifle as he did so. Even from across the room, her first thought was how shabla tall he was, towering over her by a good six inches, with a broader build than her own. Shab, were they ever going to send someone of a reasonable height to work with her? She probably only came up to his shoulder and was slimly built, and her teal and gold armour only gave her a couple of extra inches in height. Which was barely anything compared to the man dressed in matte black. She looked like his more colourful shadow. You’ve been in Wild Space too long, Sihna. You’ve forgotten just how short you are. “Just Sihna is fine, vod,” Sihna replied, her voice calm but with a note of humour in the words. Her voice was strongly accented with the brogue of Mando’a, a sure sign that it had been a first language for her, rather than a second or even learned alongside Basic. A hint to her past, though left unexplained. “Su cuy’gar. We should move to a secure comm. Something here… isn’t right.” It was a slim chance they’d be picked up, as they were on a known frequency for Mandalorians, but something at the back of her mind urged caution, a continued niggling doubt that they were missing something. Perhaps it was simply an aftereffect of her time spent below that dark moon with paranoia whispering into her mind, but Sihna had learned over the years to trust her instincts. Even when they were set off by something as simple as a cargo bay stripped to bare bones. Her left arm whirred softly as Sihna turned it to access her gauntlet, tapping in a command that extended a secure HUD link to Viraen. While not a comprehensive link, it allowed for them to share HUD data, lifesigns, atmospherics info, and a view through one another’s helmets. The secure comm link was embedded within the HUD link, allowing them to speak more freely without being picked up. There were more limited links available, but Sihna felt a show of at least some measure of trust might go a long way. They were vode, if unfamiliar to one another. It was high time Mandos started acting like a unified people again, rather than a fractured mass of clans and individuals barely held together. Small steps would built to greater trust. Even if it took years to patch the damages already done. The link extended, Sihna took the opportunity to assess her newfound companion, using her HUD to compensate for the blindness of her left eye. He was dressed entirely in matte black armour, with gold stripes adorning the front of his chest piece and helmet. Justice and Vengeance, if he had chosen traditional colour meanings. He was heavily armed, and Sihna had little doubt that there were a number of weapons spread about his person that she could not see. He was tall, as she’d noted when he walked into the cargo bay, and seemed to be in good shape. He’d need to be, if he’d climbed through a maintenance shaft to get here. In all, he seemed capable and ready for just about anything. Both good traits in a situation like this. He’d mentioned he was from clan Kyrdol, a fact corroborated by the intel Farren had passed along earlier. They were an… interesting bunch. Not one Sihna had crossed paths with often or knew much about, except that they had sided with the current Mand’alor in the civil war. She herself had not been in Mandalorian space during that time, but she’d been kept informed despite her absence. When she spoke again it was partly to test the new channel, but also in hopes of garnering more intel on the station and helping pinpoint what, exactly, was missing from their intel. “We’re supposed to have another vod join us, though the intel passed to me was...limited,” a twist in her voice indicated a wry smile, but her voice fell back to gravity with her next words. “Did you find any vode on your way here? I ran across plenty of neverd, but no Mando’ade… No survivors, either. It looks like there wasn’t time to evacuate this section before it all went to osik.” Sihna's attention, however, was diverted by the arrival of a third person. “Hello there.” Sihna lifted one eyebrow within the confines of her helmet, a small blade sliding easily into her palm as she shifted her weight. The twin lightsabers didn’t escape her notice, nor the lack of beskar’gam. But neither did the fact that the woman before them didn’t exactly look like a jetii, either… Long blonde hair was starkly contrasted by the woman’s dark clothing, overlaid with what looked almost like traditional jetii robes, but not… quite. The woman was tall - Osik, why was everyone so shabla tall? - and looked to be fit. A droid hung back behind the woman, a T7 model. Tece, perhaps? Sihna hoped so, but she’d been expecting a fully armoured Mando. The woman’s sleeve shifted slightly, offering the glimpse of a tattoo. Sihna relaxed ever so slightly, noting the Mandalorian sigil worked into the pattern. The woman’s hand was close to one of the sabers at her side, but she’d not drawn it yet. Something Sihna was choosing to take as a positive. “Mind introducing yourself, vod?” Sihna asked calmly, allowing her voice to carry through the speakers in her helmet. They gave her voice a slightly tinny tone, but the brogue of her accent still carried through strongly. Her words were cautious, though not unwelcoming. Not yet. “I believe I know who you are, but I'd rather be sure than end up with a saber in my spine." Sihna hadn’t sheathed the throwing blade she’d drawn yet nor released her spear, but she was careful to keep both weapons in a non-threatening position and her body language relaxed. She was ready to react, but there was no need to be seen as hostile...
  10. MandalMotors Beskad-class Patrol Ship - Approved

    Thank you for the edits and alterations - this is now an Approved Item.
  11. Swift Reckoning

    Wild Space Kelona, 3628 BBY She’d always loved the silence of space. The way the stars seemed to beckon, stretching ever onwards into the vastness of the unknown, waiting for someone to see them, to understand the freedom they offered. It was adventure and exploration at its height, and Sihna loved it. It’s why she was sat here of all the places in her ship, forehead leaning against the transparisteel window of the ship’s small observatory, eyes closed as she breathed in slowly, letting each breath out evenly. It wasn’t a big space, but it was still her favourite. She often came here to look out at the stars, or to think. Other times, she came when sleep eluded her and her mind would not quiet. And tonight was one such night. The cool transparisteel against her forehead did only a little to ease her headache, but Sihna didn’t move away or start towards the medbay for pain meds. Instead she just sat, arms curled around her legs, resting as best she could. She’d donned her armour but for her boots, needing the security the teal beskar offered. The pinging of a ship alarm drew Sihna out of her troubled musings, and she was on her feet and moving before the first trill had faded. She sprinted to the cockpit, bare feet quiet against the metal plating of the floors as she caught the edge of the cockpit doorframe, swinging herself towards the comm array. At the flick of a button, a hologram shimmered into being, the armoured figure instantly familiar to Sihna. “Farren,” Sihna greeted her clanmate with a tired smile. Farren was one of the first to join the fledgling Clan Dreysel, helping Sihna to shape it into what it had become today. “Why the emergency channel, vod?” "Alor," Farren’s greeting was slightly tinny due to the holo-emitters speakers, but familiar nonetheless. "We’ve picked up a distress call from some of ours. I’m sending you the intel, but they’re out in your region on a job. Apparently the Republic has attacked the station they’re guarding. I hate to ask, but…" Sihna was already scanning through the information on a separate screen, nodding. “But I’m closest,” she finished the thought. “I’ll go. It won’t take me long to get there.” Farren nodded, her body language immediately relieved."Two other clans are sending help, it sounds like the distress call wasn’t just to us. I don’t know how many Mando’ade are on that station, but you’ll have backup. I’ll send you intel as I get it." Sihna nodded in response, “Vor’e, vod.” Farren was smiling, Sihna could tell. "Oya, Alor." The flight itself wasn’t a long one, and Sihna was glad for the focus this new task gave her. Intel from Farren came in throughout the journey, some about the station and some about the Mandalorians who would be meeting her there. Sihna chose to focus mostly on the station itself, aware that intel about her campanions would only tell her so much. The station was a medical and research facility, set out in Wild Space in order to avoid as much of the fractured state of the galaxy as possible. Mandalorians had been hired on to act as security forces, a not unusual practice. However the rest of the information was spotty at best, detailing an attack by Republic Forces that had not only heavily damaged one area of the station, but destroyed or crippled any personal ships that might have been able to stage a defense. Those still able to fight had set up barricades and defenses, intent on holding their own as long as they were able. In all, the intel was solid, if limited. Farren had passed along information that Sihna would meet up with the others in the damaged areas of the station in hopes of staying as difficult to track as possible. The attackers would know of their arrival, there was no way to avoid that. But if they were careful, Sihna and her allies would be able to at least keep their movements from being pinpointed. It was a gamble, but one she was more than willing to take. Despite the intel, Sihna was still surprised by the sheer amount of damage the station had incurred when she dropped out of hyperspace. The Republic had clearly been determined to shatter any defense, leaving hunks of twisted metal and scraps melted from the heat of the attack. There were still a number of working docking ports, and Sihna quickly docked her own ship and made her way into the wounded station, having donned her armour in-flight. It was like walking through a ghost ship. Lights flickered throughout the corridors, casting gruesome shadows over the destruction that had twisted this part of the station. The Republic had pulled no punches, instead striking this section with absolutely brutality. Floor panels were twisted out of their holdings and into strange shapes, turning hallways and corridors into a macabre sort of obstacle course. Steam hissed from broken pipes within the walls of the ship, making it difficult to see. Worst of all thought was the silence. Even with the creaking of the ship, or the hissing of the steam, the place felt lifeless, stark and destroyed. It was not silence like she had experienced before, under that dark moon. But rather the silence that comes just after death has swept through a place, leaving only shattered machinery and broken bodies in its wake. Even her HUD was having trouble, the sheer amount of interference from broken systems and the damage to the system enough to make Sihna switch it to a simpler mode to avoid massive lists of information that simply told her what common sense did. This place was falling to haran. She made her way carefully from the docking bay, ducking under still-sparking wires and around smoking data terminals. She needed to move quickly, if cautiously. Those defending the still-intact parts of the station wouldn't be able to hold out forever. Especially if the destruction here was any indication of how the rest of the atatck had transpited. Now and again, small fires crackled in sealed off corridors, visible only through the transparisteel windows lining the halls. In all it was a picture of destruction, harsh and final. Most of the damage looked to have been caused by ships weaponry from the outside, and more than once she had to backtrack in order to find a new route. She saw more bodies than she cared to count, some burned beyond the ability to even recognise species, others looking like they were merely asleep. None wore Mandalorian garb, and so she had no way of knowing how their people preferred the dead to be honored. She stopped to check for a pulse when it looked like there might be even a splinter of hope, but each time all she could do was offer murmured words of peace and continue on. More than once she found herself hissing in consternation as a sudden shower of sparks leapt out at her from the shadows, causing her to duck instinctively. She was making her way to a cargo bay, deeper within the station in the hopes that it had avoided the sheer amount of destruction present elsewhere. That was where she was meant to meet the Mandalorians who would be joining her here. After scrambling through two corridors that required a fair bit of climbing and cursing as she squeezed through confined spaces that left her grateful for her small stature, Sihna finally managed to enter the cargo bay. Where the others would be coming from, she didn’t know, but she seemed to have been the first to arrive. The bay was entirely empty of life, echoing with the sounds of the dying station. Sihna used the end of her spear to hook a durasteel crate, dragging it over through the wreckage of what she could only assume was the remains of whatever had been stored here. As it was the whole place was filled with twisted metal and carbon-scoring along the walls and floor. She propped one foot up on the crate, leaning against her spear as she looked around the bay slowly. It had been stripped of anything of value - even the crate she was leaning her weight on was half destroyed, making it useless as anything except a footrest. Whoever had come through here had been methodical in stripping the place, which struck her as slightly odd. Military would take anything that looked valuable, sure. Weaponry, supplies, anything they could use. But they didn’t normally strip a place clean, not when they hadn’t even won the shabla thing entirely yet. Strange… She could feel the urgency building in her mind, the demand to do something instead of simply waiting. But there was nothing to be done. Charging off alone would be suicide. Sihna took a slow breath, forcing herself to still and instead turning her attention to her beskar'gam. She might as well check over her armour to be certain no damage had been sustained so far. It was an unlikely thing, but the process was more out of habit and something to divert her mind than necessity. She wore her full set, teal beskar and durasteel pieces, patterned with black, red and gold. Her helmet bore the same colours as the rest of her armour, and she was grateful for the seal that kept the smoke and smells of death and destruction from assaulting her senses. Her spear she leaned against, though it was normally collapsed and carried at her back, alongside the songsteel staff that rested there now. She brushed her fingers against the handle of the beskad at the small of her back absently, safely settled in its reverse sheathe. Her thick gray cloak had already been frayed at the edges, so the added marks from sparks and smoke meant little. She bore a blaster pistol at her hip, though she carried it only for emergencies. Her mechanical left arm had also held up well in the scramble, still whirring gently when she moved, with no warnings flashing in her HUD. It was an unnecessary process, but one she went through anyways as a way to avoid dwelling on the sheer number of dead she had come across in even such a short span. So many lost, without even a chance for safety or defense. She could do nothing for them, except wait for her companions to arrive. Once they did, perhaps they could all help put the souls of the dead to rest and stop more from joining their ranks. Perhaps...
  12. Application: Tece Tyr - Approved

    Your application has been ACCEPTED Thank you for applying to the site and we all are looking forward to writing with you in the near future! To start your character off, please post your character biography into the correct category here. To get started in-character, please post in this thread so a member can quickly get to you and get you on your way to starting your own adventure on Star Wars: Fates. If you have not already, please read the Community Rules to get accustomed to the environment we wish to have on the site, in addition if you have any questions about the site, please do not be afraid to PM a member of the staff team or to post in the Questions and Answers thread, as they will be answered to the best of each staff member's ability. In addition, if you wish to join the site's discord, you can join through this link right here. Should you want to start on creating items, or other things pertaining to the site, you can check out The Forge. The Forge is a way to create items for others to use, as well as providing your own character with their own specialized items. Standard issued stuff does not need to be submitted for personal use, but can be submitted to provide people with some different items to start out with. Thanks again for your patience and willingness to make changes - it is greatly appreciated
  13. Shadow of Blood

    Sand crunched beneath her feet like glass, shattering into still smaller shards as she moved forward, each step deadly in its own way but held at bay by the beskar’gam she wore. She had little doubt that she would have been cut to bloody shreds within moments without her armour, a thought that was only backed up as the shards of sand were flung against her armour like blades, skittering across beskar’gam with tiny shrieks. Her cloak had been made to withstand such dangers as well, though the edges were tattered and torn, twirling around her in a macabre dance. Wind howled around her, silenced by her helmet’s seal, but she could see its motion in the swirl of glass-like shards of sand that rose in spirals before her, lashing out against anything they could find like the fingers of a malevolent god. The wind carried sounds, too, sounds that made her blood run cold. The screams of a small child, the baying of akk hounds, all-too familiar laughter edged with madness. All were at the edges of her hearing, causing her to strain to catch them, wearing on her mind without her even realising. This snap-hiss of a lightsaber blade igniting, a scream so primal it still woke her from her sleep some nights, the fatal shriek of beskar against beskar as armour gave way. All echoing, whispering, taunting. She could taste despair in her mouth, coppery like blood, mixed with the taste of ash and flame. She was dreaming. She knew it without question, and yet just as certainly she knew that she did not stand upon a construct in her mind, but rather on the surface of the moon that lingered above. Too real, too visceral, too dark to be her own. There was a consciousness here, and she understood without really needing to ask. This was not her own interpretation but rather the true thing, far beneath the storms that lit the moon with the lightning flashes of its fury. She was surrounded by shadows lit only with the flash of the storm, bleaching any colour from an already lifeless surface. A vision, true but twisted. Sihna shuddered, turning in a slow circle, waiting. There was something here. She could feel it, like unfriendly eyes fixed upon her back. Urging her forward, to panic and madness, death and despair. It took every ounce of will and concentration she possessed to keep herself simply standing still, to avoid flinching at each new sound or brush of the wind. No wonder the tribes spoke of The Madness like a creature that hunted them. It certainly felt like one. The sand beneath her feet shivered, changing even as Sihna stepped back slowly. Sand became water, dark as night and yet untouched by the wind that still whipped around her, the pool at her feet as still as death. She could see glimpses further on, metal walls, brief markings of paint, destruction in the form of shattered stone and construct. The lightning flashed and sand cleared to allow brief glimpses, leeched of color, stark in its contrast. Death had walked here, and its laughter still echoed amongst the wreckage. But her focus was not pulled further, into the maze of metal and stone. Instead it was fixed here, at the pool forming at her feet, drawing her eyes and her mind to it as only dreams can. Sihna knelt slowly, the faintest glimmer in the water catching her eye and giving her pause. There was something familiar about the shape of it, edges worn in a way that pulled at her memory, ridges familiar to the touch even though she couldn't see them. She reached forward slowly, cautious of the sand beneath her suddenly changing. But the object was beyond her reach. Still it called to her, demanding her attention, and she knew without asking that this was what she was meant to be seeing. She would find nothing else in the sands of the storm, nothing but endless wandering, chasing glimpses of a thing she could not reach here. The bottom of the pool was covered in gleeful shards of bone, sharp as death and bleached white, visible in each flash of lightning. Sihna waded in carefully, footsteps slow and even, her breathing echoing within the confines of her helmet. She could feel bones snapping beneath her tread and she shuddered, but the surface of the water remained unmoving, no ripple disturbing its surface despite her passage through it. The water rose thickly around her knees, then her waist, and nearly to her throat as she moved through the liquid, the thing she sought constantly just out of reach. One step more, and she would have it. The whisper repeated with each footfall, urging her on. Sihna waded deeper and deeper into the pool, the water never moving, never responding to her own progress but not impeding it either. It remained still and dark but for the faint shine of metal she pursued. When she reached it, her legs were threatening to shake with fatigue, a testament to just how far she had come to retrieve her quarry. She reached down slowly, but the water was deep, swallowing her arm and causing her fingers to vanish from sight. Sihna hesitated a moment, but another flash of light brought back a glimpse of metal and redoubled her urge to find it, to pluck it from its watery resting place. And so she lowered herself beneath the water, terror scrabbling at the back of her throat but shoved aside. She could see nothing but darkness, hear nothing but the echo of her own breath. But still she reached, forcing herself deeper into the water. Finally her fingers brushed against metal and she grasped it, a sense of rightness rushing through her as she pushed her way to the surface. This was hers, hers. Sihna stood on aching legs, water pooling around her once more, dripping off her armour and into the pool she'd emerged from. She held the piece up, urgency vibrating in her bones, demanding she look, see. She shivered, dread already seeping into her mind, slowly lifting her free hand to activate the light mounted on the outside of her helmet. Mand’alor’s mask loomed before her in the shadows, the surface slick and dripping with blood, her hands covered in the liquid. Sihna fought back the urge to cry out or stagger back, forcing herself to stay still, to hold on despite the sick feeling that clawed its way up her throat. Her hands were shaking violently, but Sihna did not drop the mask, instead holding tighter, forcing herself to stare into the distinct T-visor of the helmet, to face down the ghosts of the past. She could not run from this. She would not. "This is does not belong to me," she spoke softly, the words whipped away by the wind, but a comfort within her helmet. "That wasn't why. It isn't mine..." The water turned even thicker around her, making it a struggle to move, to breathe. She looked down as lightning flashed, somehow already knowing what she would see. But it was no less sickening for the knowledge. She was covered in blood, the red liquid dripping from her armour, sliding across the visor of her helmet and darkening her vision in rivulets. The entire pool of water had shifted, now blood that lapped slowly against black sand, staining it ever darker. The mask in her hands wept blood of its own, coating her hands afresh, seeping from pits and scars in the metal. Sihna awoke suddenly, gasping for breath. Stars shone above her, and a gentle breeze whispered through the darkness. The fire before her was dying, embers sputtering from the last flames. Sihna’s movements were slow and jerky as she began to rebuild the flames, blinking back blurred vision and the stinging in her eyes. Sihna worked to calm her breathing, fighting to steady her racing pulse. This was not a place for tears, or even memory. She was careful not to look at her hands, keeping her focus instead on the flames as they grew. She didn’t want to see if they were covered in blood, like the vision. She didn’t know what she would do if they were...
  14. Shadow of Blood

    Kelona, 3628 Unknown Planet, Wild Space Bitter cold seeped over the planet as night fell, leaving the ground washed in inky blackness. A pinprick of light stood out against the advancing night, a flame stubbornly kept alive despite the malice that seemed to reach for it like a fist. There was nothing else here. The local tribes fled before the shadow of the darkest of the moons that circled this small planet, as they had done for thousands of years. And might for thousands more. They knew the dangers of remaining beneath the eye of what had become a god of death and madness. It did not spare any, instead pushing all towards dark ends. Some lost their wills, succumbing to madness that was better than reality. Others fell to murderous rage, slaying friend and foe alike, no difference between them any longer, cured only when death took them too - often at the hands of someone who had once been called friend. It was a moon of death and blood and agony, and it kept watch over this planet that dared not name it or look upon it longer than necessary. Those born beneath this moon were considered cursed, as was any task undertaken beneath its watch. The tribes that called the planet their own knew. They had grown up in its shadow - always moving, so as never to remain beneath its gaze. Their stories gave them warning, and those who did not heed those warnings were taken by the malevolence of the god who lurked above. They were once explorers, venturing out amongst the stars. But then this god of death came to the moon above them in a hail of fire and fury that left scars upon the land. They saw the death it brought to any who ventured close, saw it choose its own priesthood marked with madness and murder, and chose to give the god its due. There was no way to tell who would remain themselves, and who would become a hand of death when its gaze touched them. And so their ships they destroyed, the mangled metal corpses a reminder of the price - the danger of approaching. And so they learned, and they avoided, and they never stayed. Only outsiders stayed. Only those who did not know. Those like her. Her dreams were now of death and blood, whispers of insanity and sorrow. Shadows hung heavy beneath her eyes, her movements slow and so, so careful. Sihna hadn’t believed them when they spoke of the terrors the dark moon’s rising brought. The madness, the despair. She had faced those things - seen murder in the face of a friend and death’s marks upon faces she knew. She’d seen madness, driven by power, driven by hate. She’d thought she’d seen enough to know it, to recognise it. But she only knew one form, and oh, it had so many... She had thought them legends, stories of a people convinced the moon above them was the face of a malevolent and cruel god. She had not expected the taste of blood and ash to never leave her mouth, or the despair that haunted her thoughts and the madness that whispered, so tempting. Voices echoed at the edges of her hearing, taunting her, memories buried and forgotten rising to the surface with fresh horror. She saw the faces of dead friends, covered in blood and twisted in agony. Laughing. Mocking. Death stood at her shoulder, and yet the presence was almost comforting in its nearness. Hers to command, either for herself or the bloody end of others. And only the fear of that thought and the ease with which it came kept her firmly anchored to reality. To sanity. Reaching for good memories, voices of those she loved. Laughter. Peace. Clung to desperately, tenaciously. Sihna fed another branch into the flames, the heat licking at her fingers. It was easing, she could tell. Slowly, hour by hour, the moon’s influence was beginning to fade. She had begun to feel its influence before she’d even stepped foot on the planet, a few months ago. Its reach was vast, but it began so slowly she’d not realised. It was only now that she was in the midst of it that she could tell it was waning. Sihna had little doubt that had she been Jedi or Sith, had she held that knowledge and extra layer of senses, she might have realised sooner. As it was, she had simply no way of understanding what it was reaching out to her, covering her mind in darkness slowly. She’d been looking so long. Following stories, scraps of legends, bits and pieces of information cobbled together from so many sources and searches that she’d lost count entirely. She’d known what she was chasing. Or, rather, she’d thought she did. Even when she landed here, so far out from any known planets, deep within Wild Space, she had still thought she understood. But it had only been when she stood on the planet’s surface, alone beneath the moon’s eye, that she finally realised just how wrong she had been. Scraps of legend had not prepared her for this. Stories had not done justice to this horror, or prepared her for the lash of its influence on her mind. She had seen darkness and madness and rage that led to destruction and death. But she’d seen it in one man’s eyes. Not an entire moon. The stain of it spread like a cancer, infecting the planet below in cycles, driving the people to hide from it, to forever flee its shadow. And now she knew. Now she understood. So close. So simple to give in. To run into the madness and the darkness and ease the pain of fighting. Sihna fed another branch into the fire, watching the flames lick along the wood, the circle of light it cast brightening slightly. Holding the shadows at bay.
  15. Working on updating bio, stats, and some rumours to explain her absense, but then Sihna is going to be making a comeback :P Writing Isa made me miss Sihna a lot, so... yeah :D