STAR WARS

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Seiji, Jun 27, 2011.

  1. Green and red arcs illuminate the dark arches of the promenade. Night has descended upon Illia Station; it is time for sleep, rest, entertainment, and revelry. But the green and red that streak across the skyline of Illia Station, the roof translucent to let in the star-studded black landscape above and beyond, are not from the neon lights from hotels, casinos, clubs, and other entertainment venues.

    These streaks come from the meter long shafts of lightsaber blades.

    Master A'shan's green blade arced from his hand as he threw it, leaping backwards over the golden 'O' of the Hotel Odyssey. He barely managed to avoid the onslaught of incoming blue-and-violet streaks of Force Lightning. The lightning tore asunder the brilliant golden sign of the Hotel Odyssey, leaving nothing but the 'O' blinking in and out of existence. Jedi Master A'shan's return blade ended that, however, as the lightsaber landed back in his hand--but not before slicing the letter clean in half, sending it into the milling crowd below.

    Screams echoed over the promenade below as people scrambled to avoid the crashing debris. It barely missed one of the beautiful marble stone walkways that lined the otherwise synthetic plasteel and metals that made up the wide avenues below, half-park and half-entertainment district. Instead, it crashed into one of three massive and beautiful lakes. The dark water of the man-made lake kicked up and rose above adjacent walkways in a massive wave, knocking over pedestrians and knocking out lighting structures.

    The dark figure which had struck at Jedi Master A'shan cackled gleefully from the deep shadow of his hooded cloak. Yellow teeth glistened in the light of his red saber-blade as he drew it close to himself in a center guard. Both Force Warriors stood on the roof of the once-pristine Hotel Odyssey, the jewel guest-house of Priam Way. News vehicles hovered over them, weaving in between what security vehicles there were casting down the heavy beams of light. A'shan and his opponent both ignored them as they began their duel once again.

    The cloaked duelist lunged at A'shan, who stepped forward and pirouetted at the last moment with his blade raised and pointed down. He caught his enemy's lunge and turned it with his spin. Momentum carrying him, he continued his spin and brought his blade around his body and over his head, crashing the blade vertically down on his foe. The enemy, who A'shan could only guess as a Sith Lord, had predicted this movement. He bothered not to face A'shan attack, instead flicking his blade around his back and casually deflecting the would-be mortal blow.

    A'shan pressed his attack with the Sith's back turned, striking once more with an overhead strike as he advanced on him with a forceful step. The Sith turned and crouched, swinging his blade-arm out and attacking the Jedi Master's forward-leg. The Master drew back his attack just enough to deflect the Sith's sweeping blow, and pushed on his enemy's blade with the help of the Force, shoving him back and off of his feet.

    The Sith spun in mid-air, twirling backwards before landing on his feet and in a crouch. Without warning, he pushed off of his low crouch and, using the Force as well, launched himself in an overhead strike. Before the Jedi Master could respond, the Sith Lord thrust his hand forward and launched a lance of violet Force Lightning. The Jedi Master caught the torrent of Dark Side power on his lightsaber blade, and retreated from inevitable downward strike.

    Sweat dripped from the brow of the old Jedi Master. His long, brown cloak had since been discarded, burned and lit aflame by a previous attack of lightning. His Jedi robes were pock-marked with lightsaber burn scars; they nothing more than cosmetic, he himself having suffered no injury, but they were a sign of the many close-calls to death he had been. The Sith Lord still wore his long, flowing cloak of black, hood pulled firmly over his face. He looked pristine, as if he had been fresh-coming to the battle.

    "Stop what you're doing!" came an amplified voice. A speeder vehicle came low over the roof, keeping itself levitated with simply repulsorlifts. Security men leaned out from the side hatch of the armoured vehicle, riot visors shielding their faces as they trained weapons on the two Force-wielding duelists.

    "Drop your weapons, now! Or we will fire!"

    The Jedi looked warily up at them, before he looked back to the Sith. The Sith turned his gaze back to the Jedi Master, and revealed another sinister, toothy grin. A'shan's face lit with recognition, and he turned his attention back to the security vehicle in the sky.

    "Fly, you fools!" he yelled, his own voice amplified in near-to a sonic boom with the power of the Force. His warning was unheeded, or too late. The Sith, lightsaber still in hand, had already arced his Force Lightning into the heavy security vehicle and had lit it asunder. The men inside convulsed violently as their lives came to a horrible end. The vehicle began to careen off to the side, the Sith using the telekinetic properties of the Force (along with his lightning) to direct the vehicle down into the crowd below.

    Screams echoed the promenade and A'shan leaped to the edge of the building. Utilizing the Force, he snatched the tumbling vehicle out from mid-air before it could crash into the innocents below. Holoscreen across the station were filled with dual images of heroics, the Jedi Master standing triumphantly on the edge of the Hotel Odyssey as he staved off a massive killing, the burning vehicle hovering in mid-air just a dozen feet from crashing into a crowd of numerous people.

    And then those same screens were filled with the image of a Jedi Master dying, a red spear of energy lancing out from his chest.

    ~~~~~~~~


    "This is Illia Station, welcoming guest ship to dock at landing zone 1138..."

    "Illia Station welcomes you, guest ship. Please upload your transponder codes, and we shall begin docking procedures..."

    "Hold on, freighter. Our scanners are picking up a shadow in your cargo hold. ... Haha, we've recently upgraded. We're sending a crew abord for a manual scan. Please hold orbit at 10 kilometers..."

    "Business or pleasure?"


    This is the radio traffic in the space around Illia Station. For hundreds of thousands of kilometers in either direction is empty, star-studded space. In one direction of the system disc is the massive asteroid belt in which the Agea System earned it's wealth among the galaxy. In the other direction, the twin planets, Agea and Treya.

    Illia Station was a meeting ground between the two worlds. It was also the only piece of space in the entire system that had gone untouched by war, and as such, had been the single most profitable entity in the system. It's maintainers and operators knew that, and had profited mightily.

    The station is lined with all manner of people: mercenaries from the recent Treyan War, griping about the cease fire but happy to have been paid; smugglers and pirates alike, having ran blockades in all planes of space to deliver supplies to either side of the conflict; refugees numbered in the innumerable, civilians fleeing from either side to simply find stability; entrepreneurs, weapons dealers and others that would find profit in the conflict, be it from one superpower or the other, or from ripping off the refugees; entertainers, having been recently invited by the Illia Station governing body to help the Treyans and Ageans alike in establishing stability by, how else? Showing swoop races for free, and even offering men down on their luck even-odds on betting.

    Illia Station is bustling. And for one reason or another, you're a part of the crowd. But soon, very soon, you'll be standing out, and for what reason, only the Force knows...

     
  2. Two heavy boots lay upon the ship's control panel as Jim his arms crossed didn't even look out of the cockpit at the stars as they rushed past. It wasn't until the ship shuddered spilling from hyperspace into the Agean System that he pushed his hat up from over his eyes and held the mic to his mouth.

    "Mornin' Irene." he said on Illia Station's docking request frequency. "This is Plane Walker. Alright if we pop in?"

    "What... please use proper...."

    "Alright Irene.. Illia Station. This is private freighter Plane Walker registration X-2302-Alpha requesting permission for uhh extended berth. Possibly a week." he sighed hating how station personnel always clung to their procedure. Before he could hear the answer the ship's nose started to slew to one side.

    "Hell again!" he cursed in and instant taking his feet off the panel and grabbing the controls with one hand while the other flipped overhead switches before grabbing the intercom. "Cabel I though we got that thruster fixed see what you can do before it makes our landing more more interesting than it has to be." he hung up the intercom and took the control with both hands his arms shaking as the other thruster burned to compensate for the one stuck open. Looked like one of the first people they would need to talk to would be a mechanic.
     
  3. Rowrrooko had taken a seat by the window in the sparely occupied transport shuttle, and a casual observer might have thought he was watching their approach. And in a way he was, but not by sight.

    His eyes were closed, and he opened himself to the Force, letting the sensations produced by such an intense gathering of life wash over him, voices and emotions rising to a deafening roar. After so many years of self-imposed exile, he was remembering what he had missed in that time. It wasn't just the masses he could feel, there were Force-users on the station, seeming to be beacons of serenity or roars of emotion. And more of the latter.

    He returned to the here and now as they docked, nodding a polite thanks to a fellow passenger giving him the right of way. He passed through the entrance checks, often having to wait or to be passed around from clerk to clerk until either a translator droid or clerk who could understand Shryiwook was found. Language as a barrier didn't surprise him anymore, if anything he wondered at what these clerks must think, dealing with perhaps the only Wookie in the galaxy with patience.

    As he entered the station proper he became acquainted with the story of the battle last night, and couldn't hide the droop in his features then. From what he remembered of A'shan, it was a death undeserved but perhaps the kind he would have wished for. He did not see death as an end, did not mourn over that. What drew him down was the thought, "Now we are one fewer."

    The Sith weren't gone from the galaxy because he had chosen exile. He closed his eyes momentarily, considering whether to try and mask his presence, but decided ultimately against that idea. Hiding was what he had done for the past ten years. He had nothing to hide now, no reason to not let any Sith on the station detect him.
     
  4. Enter Lanni


    Despite the commotion of last night, the Hotel Odyssey continued to be well occupied with both activity and tenants. The hotel itself was gilded in gold. It was one of the most esteemed-- if not the most esteemed-- establishments on Illia station. It was a waystation to bureaucrats, entrepreneurs, and other such well-paying clientele. As such, it had no shortage of comforts or livery. From gambling, to night life, to illicit activity for the rich and powerful... Hotel Odyssey strove to accommodate all needs.

    One of the guests was none other than Lanni Ta'Leren. He was occupying an uppermost suite of the hotel with a dashing young Twi'Lek model, one who had not come cheaply. He had decided to spend time with her on the advice of a friend, who saw fit to counsel him in this time of 'peace'... also known as reduced profit. The whole cease fire experience had embittered Lan, which naturally lead to the suggestion that he take a moment to get a morale boost. Her company couldn't seem to distract his wandering mind, much to her chagrin and somewhat to his disappointment. He did feel a little guilty. But only just a little.

    Lan gently but firmly pushed her from him, sliding over to reach for his pack of cigarras. He placed one in his lips and lit it without ceremony, rubbing his hands over his face. First the cease fire, and now this. It had even been in this very hotel, as if the Force were some how flashing him the middle finger in some sort of bizarre ethereal retribution for the things he's done. He had been trying to have a conversation with his newfound friend all the way up until the entire hotel sign streaked in front of the room's window like a meteorite. Their attention was diverted enough to steal the magic from the moment, and since Lan couldn't see what had happened below, he had the ignorant idea to switch on the holoviewer instead.

    It was disastrous. Had it just been one of the narcotic gangs blasting each other stupid, they would have been quickly suppressed and no one would have blinked twice. Just another day on Illia station. But it just had to be force users. It just had to be a Sith and a Jedi. Now the station would be in an uproar for the foreseeable future, investors would be eying the station with heavy apprehension and reduced profits would become deficits. He idly wondered what had happened to the Sith that impaled the Jedi on live holo... but his musings were cut short when the cigarra smoke stung his eyes. He suddenly became acutely aware of the bundle of sheets at the edge of his bed that was glaring sullenly at him. He gave a soft sigh before breaking the awkward silence.

    "You're right, you know?" The expected silent response practically roared through the suite. He gave the appropriate pause before finishing with famous words that had spoken countless times, but not by him. "There's a speeder waiting for you downstairs. It'll take you where ever you like."

    He took a slow drag of the cigarra as his angry companion gathered her belongings with a muttered curse that he was certain would be completely unflattering, had he actually bothered to listen. He stood a few moments after the model had gone and began dressing himself. He had to figure out a way to salvage this debacle, or at the very least, minimize his damages.

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

    The ride in to Ta'Leren Industries HQ had been unexpectedly brief, though every radio frequency on the station appeared to have nothing better to talk about aside from the impromptu duel between ancient castes. One radio show even went so far as to pantomime the event with its own replacement dialogue, which caused Lan to quickly switch frequencies out of annoyance. His own employees even appeared to be apprehensive. Whether about his mood or the commotion on the station, Lan hadn't bothered to ask.

    His operations cell was more or less as he expected. A chaotic display of circus antics as his experts struggled to contain both angry customers and conduct business as normal. His Chief Commerce Officer approached him with reluctance, the look on her face riddled with defeat. She gestured vaguely to one holoscreen containing the visage of what was apparently a perturbed Sullustan. It was hard to tell. "Lan, I can't handle this. He demands to speak to you."

    "Aleddi ala mooti pan balla--"Lan raised his hand politely to stop his customer in mid-sentence.

    "I understand, but the situation has changed on Illia now. You can open just about any bloody holoviewer you please and see that this is the truth. Your shipment's delayed."

    "Yuti ala ugili yhuu han p'wah!" Lan pinched the bridge of his nose. It occurred to him that his late night activity may not have had even a remote effect on his mood, aside from making it more sour.

    "Frell your overhead," He snarled quietly, gesturing sharply at the screen and hoping that none of his employees overheard. "Show me how to control a Sith lord impaling a frelling Jedi in front of the whole bloody station and I'll show you how to get your frelling shipment on time."

    The Sullustan gave an incredulous, "Ba'waa?!" at being handled so roughly, but Lan had already silenced the feed. His CCO gave him a queer look.

    "I take it your night didn't go well?" Lan smirked bitterly.

    "I don't know what you're talking about," He lied. "My night was amazing."

    He turned to exit the over-stimulated operations cell, stepping outside to take a deep breath of air. If he had come to minimize damage, he hadn't accomplished that yet. He needed an opening. Something had to happen... and surely it must come from lighting a cigarra, he decided.

    Smoke drifted from the burning tabac as he gazed up at the transparent ceiling of Illia station, watching as freighters and various other vessels passed on their way to mooring stations. He was busily emptying his mind when he felt a presence. He wasn't alone. He turned slowly in the mediocre illumination, gazing into the shadows and struggling in vain to discern the nature of his new visitor. Damnable eyes... he could never see in the dark. "Who's there...?"



    [OOC: Open invitation! Anyone who'd like to jump in, please do so... I'd love to get some interaction going.]
     
  5. Somewhere in the the Hotel Odyssey, in the highest class suite that the hotel had available, A lone figure stood staring out a large widow, the lovely view of Illia station before them. The room was covered in the finest fabrics and the greatest style, money was not a problem while it was designed. Of course, Odyssey always saved the best for when royalty wandered in...

    A defeated sighed slipped from the pink lips of Princess Dieltai, her dark blue hair hanging behind her and pooling around her feet. The evening before had left her shaky and disturbed. Awoken from sleep but such negative feelings that she was brought to tears and her handmaidens where left to try to calm her hysterical sobs. She couldn't help it though, it was in her nature to feel emotions, be they good or bad. However, not once in her whole life had she felt such hate and anger, such madness that it would bring her to tears! She was rather curious as to what could cause such a sudden flux in the feelings around her but she would not learn much more until the maid she sent away returned while the information she sought.

    "Highness? Your bath is ready..." A young human woman said softly, dressed in fine velvet robes to mark that she was a servants of Trellia. The young princess turned away from the window and smiled at the girl, her emotions slipping into the air and filling the room with calm, something that she and her maids needed after last night's episode.

    "Thank you...Please have my outting clothing set out along with breakfast. I feel like a walk will do me some much needed good." She spoke softly as she walked toward her bathroom, a heavy steam drifting out the door as she wandered inside.

    Yes, A walk would do her some good. She'd eat, speak with her maid when she returned and then walk around, maybe then she could get some more details on the events from the night before.
     
  6. Kira groaned as she awoke on the transport shuttle. She had dozed off on the long trip and she wasn't pleased with the cramped quarters but it was the only shuttle that would have room for her and her swoop bike. She was more concerned with what had awoken her from her slumber, she usually could sleep until the ship had docked but something drew her out. She looked around the private room she had chartered but through one of the walls she could see it, like a beacon in the night, it was the Force being drawn to someone.

    As she stood and moved her way through her room effortlessly, intending on seeing this beacon in person, but was cut short when she felt the docking procedures starting. She couldn't have time for hunting down the beacon and instead had to make sure that she got her swoop to the garage so all of her tune ups could be done and she could at least TRY to get a couple of practice laps in. With a sigh she headed to the transport ship's garage where her swoop was being stored and helped the crew get it down off the ship and into the station where a crew from the race was waiting to take her swoop to the garage area. She signed the papers she needed and was going to go with her swoop when the rest of the station caught her senses. It was a buffet for her, she hadn't been around so many people in a while and all of them had varying degrees of connections to the force, she could see some shining with power and others barely touched.

    She waved to the crew that would take her swoop, dismissing them and heading into the thick of the crowd. Sensing each person through the force, the plants for decor gave off their own plumes of Force energy. She was fascinated, but from somewhere ahead she saw that beacon of force energy she had seen on the transport, somewhere ahead in the crowd and it called to her like a moth to the flame. She pushed her way past a few people, making sure to tug her hood back up anytime it fell too far back for her liking, she was desperate to make sure nobody noticed the bandanna over her eyes, effectively blinding her, or at least that's what she wanted everyone else to think.
     
  7. The night before...

    When pursuing a target via spacecraft, Lia'ry was always one-hundred percent focused. There was a big bounty on this man's head. The only information she had on him was him being an ex-member to some kind of criminal organization, yet still committed wrong on his own. If captured, the authorities could interrogate him in order to find this guild's hideout. Justice would be served for another job well done.

    Though, she didn't really care about anything but the reward for turning him in.

    Expertly, The Fynn Rider was sped through the darkness of space, keeping the criminal's own ship in view. His vehicle was nothing impressive. Quite puny compared to what she piloted. This would be easy! Or... Should be, at least.

    Much to her dismay, this man wasn't quite a mastermind. It was no wonder he got banned. Their chase was being brought right to publicity, towards a space station named Illia, where there were probably capable authorities. Lia'ry swore under her breath when she took notice to this, but kept going. They spent too much time finding this guy to give up now.

    "I'm going to park it," she announced to her partner. "Prepare yourself, Fynn. You're going to have to pursue him on foot. I'll catch up."

    While he got himself ready and armed, she sped forward until the station was in view. Spotting their target's vehicle, she hovered straight above it and tapped the switch that would open the hatch below The Fynn Rider. This allowed Fynn to fall from that height to the roof of the criminal's ship. Right after that, he had to make haste to their prisoner-to-be. During so, Lia'ry landed her ship, grabbed her weapons and supplies, then made after the other two arrivals.

    The Force became strong; she could sense a disturbance. This alarmed her greatly, but also confused her. To this day, she didn't understand why or how she could feel these vibes. There was no time to analyze it, though. She needed to catch up to Fynn as quickly as possible. Something terrible was about to happen.

    Actually, more terrible than she thought.

    In her fast pace, she almost smacked right into Fynn. Right after skidding to a stop, she stepped to his side with her blaster aimed where she expected their target to be. That wasn't at all what she was aiming at... What her gun pointed towards was an intense lightsaber battle between a Jedi and a Sith! Fynn was as wide eyed as she was to be standing in front of this event.

    The two of them fled the scene to not get hurt or noticed. One, maybe both, of the combatants might have saw them, but couldn't be bothered.

    To make matters worse, they weren't going to reel in that nice bounty. The criminal they chased all the way here got tangled up in the duel. Lia'ry and Fynn watched in disdain as the man got himself killed by one swift movement of a red lightsaber.

    "Those two just ruined my day," she said dryly, staring bitterly at the two fighters, and then the two piece corpse laying on the ground near the duel. That man wasn't worth anything dead. 'A crying shame...'

    ---​

    Now...

    The two mercenaries booked a room at The Odyssey, in foul moods because they wouldn't be getting their pay. They were hardly phased by the lightsaber battle they witnessed. Actually, they were cross about it! Because of that battle, they lost a generous sum of money. Nothing else really mattered to the pair; just themselves and their riches. It was a decent life as much as it was an exciting one.

    Quite grumpily, Lia'ry sat up in bed, letting out a long, loud yawn. That grumpiness didn't show for too long, though. Despite all that happened, she didn't want negative moods influencing Fynn, or anyone else. Plus, she never had it in her to just stay angry. It was unhealthy.

    A hand tapped onto Fynn's blanket covered shoulder, her face lowering to his ear, in which she made a coo to help him wake. Lia couldn't help how affectionate she was, especially to him. The loving little gestures seemed to make morning easier to cope with, too. Not many were fond of the early hours.

    Following her gentle attempts to wake him up, she rolled across the bed and stepped out of it to stretch her limbs. She was dressed in nothing but a tank top and shorts, those being typical, cozy pajamas for bedtime. It was preferred, too. Most of the days, she was stuck in the heavy, uncomfortable armour. At least she was protected. The only time she really complained about it was the first day she had to wear it.

    While rubbing at one of her arms, the Twi'lek stepped to the window of their room. The curtain was pushed slightly aside so she could get a peek at what was outside. Something about gazing at the outdoors helped her wake up more. Watching people walk, seeing people work... There was quite the bustle outside this morning. Probably concerning the battle that went on last night. The reminder of that made her snarl; she really wanted to get off of this station.

    The curtain was put back in place, her back pressing to the wall beside the window. A finger idly twisted around a tip of her lekku, her childish scowl directing to the floor. Lia'ry wasn't mad, really. Not that much. Thinking back to their failure did make her a little bit sour, though.
     
  8. Fynn awoke to the melodious purring of his partner and lover, Lia'ry. He felt her move and shuffle next to him, though he didn't let her know he was awake. It had always been this way; she would awake before him, tend to her few things (including starting breakfast), and would then come back to wake him. While he had been up the whole time, he never let her in on it. He enjoyed her coming to wake him.

    He knew she was perturbed about the previous night's folly. A certain criminal outfit member named Makalle had been singled out for a hunt, a price put on his head, when he had crossed one too many of his bosses or their associates. Fynn wasn't quite sure which it was, nor did he care. All that he knew was that the Dark Sun Syndicate wanted Makalle dead or alive (preferably alive), anad they were offering handsomely for it.

    The man had fled to Agea, hoping to hide in the midst of the little-known war that had been waging on their. Fynn knew about the conflict through his Mandalorian contacts. After the many 'Great Wars' in which the Mandalorians had taken part of, and had been summarily squashed in, many of the remnants had turned to mercenary work, if not flat-out bandit work. Fynn and indeed many Mando's found honour in working as a mercenary, a soldier for hire. There was little honur in being a thief--Fynn had grown to despise these so-called Mandalorians.

    But Fynn had known about the conflict, and had decided to stay out of it. He had good work to be had in hunting. Indeed, he enjoyed hunting a bit more than pure combat in and of itself. He didn't think that said much of anything about him; he was as good a warrior as any, perhaps even better than most! He simply liked to track men, and alien alike.

    So, Makalle had fled to Agea.

    Unfortunately, the conflict had ended. At the very least, a firm and secure cease fire had been established by the warring super powers. Reluctantly, a token Republic squadron had been dispatched to the system (with the express permission of the joint Agean/Treyan Security Council).

    So, Makalle had fled to Agea, to find no where to hide.

    Lia'ry and Fynn ran him down, almost quite literally, into the sovereign land of Illia Station. They had received brief, if brusque and barely-attained security clearance, to run Makalle down. It was a brutal chase, and ended just as brutally: with a Sith's red lightsaber through his torso.

    That ended that fat bounty and, even though they got the evidence of the man's death, Dark Sun had decided to shaft them on the bounty on grounds that Fynn had not been the one to kill the man. Fynn couldn't, didn't, argue. He didn't feel the need to. Instead, he made a note to kill Dark Sun some day.

    Lia'ry's nose tickled at his ear as her hand squeezed his shoulder. She was being as affectionate as always, and Fynn couldn't help but smile. Despite his rough and vigourous Mandalorian upbringing, he knew to and appreciate aliit, or family. Lia'ry was the closest thing he had to family; he treasured her.

    "Mmn, good morning," he said as he turned to face her with a smile. His voice was a low-rumble, and scratchy as always. He turned in time to see her roll once again out of bed, pacing the length of the room to look out over the luxurious balcony of their pomp room of Hotel Odyssey. It had been the most beautiful hotel in all of the station-- that is, until the furious Force duel between Sith and Jedi that previous night. The same duel that had cheated he and Lia'ry out of a juicy meal ticket.

    "What you doing over there, Bunny? C'mere." He grinned and patted the space next to him, winking at her. His blue tattooes were surprisingly brilliant in the dim light of the room, they criss-crossing the entire length of his body. They were a sign of his family, his clan, but on Kiffu. He had been but a boy when he was taken by the Mandalorian raiders; it was a life time ago, and something he recalled often in his dreams, but never set his mind to in his waking hours. He thought of it, briefly, his home back on Kiffu, and his family before the man named Atin came and raised him as his own. He smiled at the memories.

    He was distracted by the bright lights at the edge of his vision though, and tilted his head in time to see the broad holoscreen once again replay the events of the night before.

    "Jedi Master A'shan, here on behalf of the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order, was slain last night in an battle of epic proportion! An unknown assailant murdered him last night in a duel that trailed along the rooftop of the Hotel Odyssey. This was the same hotel that he and other members of his retinue had been staying. Additional information says that his murderer is called a Sith; whether or not he has any connection to that legendary Sith Empire, led by Revan and his apprentice Malak centuries ago in another epic confrontation with the Republic and the Jedi, is yet to be seen..."

    "Haak, jetii!" cursed Fynn in the language of his adopted Mandalorian culture. Roughly translated, it meant: damn Jedi! "They always have to involve their bullshit wherever they go. Good, bad; they're none of that. They're just a menace and a nuisance to the galaxy. Damn them, and their laser swords."

    With that, he rolled out of bed, angry and aggravated. Fynn could be prone to these strange mood-swings, especially when perturbed or stressed. He wasn't a cold and calculating warrior, like some. Fynn was definitely the kind to embrace his emotions and burn brightly with them.

    Before Lia'ry could move or say anything to him, he crossed the room and set his lips upon hers. Their kiss was a furious one, Fynn pushing that frustration and passion into the kiss. Holding onto her waist, he dragged her to the 'fresher and, with a grin, told her: "Let's clean up, cyar'ika."


    ~~~~~~~
    @Vay ...

    "Plane Walker, you are cleared for land--er, is everything alright out there, Jimmy?" Irene's voice was calm, but there was a certain degree of both concern and curiousity in her tone. "Looks like the Walker's limping a bit. Uh, you're going to fix that up before you set yourself to your landing course, right? Right?

    Anywho, you hear the big news?" Irene's voice was suddenly a whisper, but an excited one. She might as well not have been whispering at all. "That hot-shot Jedi Master that came in from Coruscant a week ago just kicked the bucket last night. Word is, the Sith Empire is back and they're starting with the Jedi! I don't know if it's exciting, another Great Sith War starting here in little old Agea, or if it's down-right depressing, considering we just got out of a war...

    Er, Plane Walker, your course hasn't corrected yet..."

    ~~~~~~~
    @Spammy ...

    "Welcome to Illia Station, er, sir," said a nervous Mirialan girl with braided purple hair. She was wearing a sophisticated wardrobe with a double-breasted tunic and long purple skirt. She was standing near the loading gate that greeted new arrivals. Illia Station was someting of a wild and bustling space station, packed with too-many people and some mostly lawless, but it was still the crown jewel of the system. The Station Administrator saw it that they held on to propriety, damnit!

    She had never before seen a Wookiee. At least, not up close. She wasn't certain how they'd be able to communicate, but she'd certainly try!

    "My name is Amayya," she said with a nervous smile, stressing the second syllable of her name. "Do you need a guide? Directions, perhaps, a taxi-speeder to your known location? We have beautiful accommodations, especially along Priam Way. The Hotel Odyssey is the highlight of our special accommodations! Though... I'm not sure you'd want to go there, now..." She raised her hands to her face, biting her nails nervously.

    "They say a bunch of Sith Lords got into a fight on the roof top there, and after killing a Jedi, announced the return of Revan! It's terrifying. I'd leave the station and head to safer land, but... Well, where is safer than Illia? I can't afford to leave the system but, uh.. Ah, now I'm rambling!"

    ~~~~~~~
    @Harpy

    A knock came on the door of the Princess's suite. One of her maids answered to let in a young man, no older than eighteen local sun revolutions. He had a nervous look on his face, but a bright eagerness glowed in his eyes. He was carrying up a hover-cart with silver domes that covered several plates. Breakfast, of course.

    "I-I-I brought up the order," he stammered, unable to take his eyes from the maid. She was a servant, he knew, but she was also gorgeous!

    "I, um, oh! The M-Manager wanted to extend his utmost apologies to you and Her Majesty; the events that unfolded last night in no way reflect the level and measure of safety of the Hotel Odyssey! The m-ma-mackinations..? ..of, of, Jedi and the like, are of something out of his hands, and that he will be sharing words personally with the Administrator to handle this! He would like to extend a-any bit of hospitality he can, and offer Her Highness free accommodations for the remainder of her stay.

    ... Um, you did hear all that last night, r-right?" He asked, as he began to leave after arranging the breakfast table. "A Jedi Lord got into a fight with a Sith Master, on the roof top! They say the Jedi's body just vanished, and the Sith laughed and leaped off the building into the water out back. Th-they didn't find him... Er, s-sorry if I'm bugging you."
     
  9. Yora had just finished heaping a few bags of flour, sugar and jugs of Naboo chocolate liqeur onto her friend's borrowed landspeeder. The shipment did arrive on time, she thanked the dock employees and the ship captain profusely for that much. However, the order of 3,400 of her chocolate frosted cupcakes for the reception of a diplomat's daughter's 12th birthday could not wait the days it would have taken for the rest of the supply order to clear customs and be delivered to her bakery.

    And there was still so much preparation to be done!

    She had woken up earlier than usual to set up for the regular baking to be done and directions for her staff so later on she could personally work on the cupcakes along with the group of her demi patissiers. Scrunching her face into all sorts of expressions, Yora stood at rear of the landspeeder looking at the ropes and cords that held the sugar, liqeur and flour in place, wondering if everything was secure enough to travel faster than 5 mph. Clacking her tongue at her own foolishness she took out the small stamp of her bakery and marked each of the packages in case one was lost. What Yora didn't notice was that her forceful stamping had unhooked one of the ropes leaving her sugar packs compromised. As she left the dock, Yora meticulously weaved the speeder past crates, loading droids, forklifts, lunching dock workers and all other manner of miscellaneous obstacles. Once past the gates, Yora fed the hog some gas and sped up dodging traffic when she could and when there weren't any authorities to view her minor violations.

    There were a few quick lawful stops to evade notice from the patrol watch so the thunks of her sugar, flour and liqeur dropping from their ropes went unheard under the ruckus of regular Illia traffic. And most curiously, the Nautolan didn't even hear the spluttering or sense the shock or pain of a pedestrian being beaned by one of the stray bags of sugar nor the epithets the pedestrian yelled at her.
    By the time Yora had made it back to her bakery there was only one stubborn sack of flour left on the back of the landspeeder. She nearly turned purple at the sight of it.

    "You... you have to be kidding me. I CAN'T AFFORD THIS! VIV'LEKRO! COME HERE!" yelled Yora through the backdoor. Her main demi-patissier nearly pissed himself after seeing the lonely sack on the speeder. A few hushed, frantic whispers later, they arranged it so Yora could retrace her path and see if she could salvage the missing items from the streets. It wasn't the smoothest plan but it would cost her less in money at the least if not time.

    And off she sped, her tendrils flapping in the wind more out of anxiety than passing air.
     
  10. Kira felt like a thief in the night following after this beacon of Force energy but something continued to draw her. Her full attention was focused on this font of power, which she could now make out as a Wookiee from where she stood on the opposite side of a pathway for speeders. The minute she could cross this path she would get a better look at this creature but from out of nowhere she was accosted by a rogue sack of sugar flying at her and catching her right in the chest. She cried out in pain and searched for where the sack of sugar came, adjusting her hood again as it had been tossed back off her head.

    It took Kira a moment to regain her senses and realize that she had been knocked to the ground. With a groan she picked herself up off the ground and took a moment to make sure she still had everything, she wasn't sure if the sack of sugar was part of a pickpocketing ploy, but was relieved to find her pistols still at her sides.

    It didn't take much time to figure out where the sack of sugar came from when she noticed there was a long trail of various baking goods strewn about leading down the pathway. Kira scratched her head as she picked up the sack of sugar and felt it get slowly lighter. She reached out with the force to watch as the sugar poured out of the bottom. Well that can't be good for whoever this belongs to... Kira thought, placing the sack back on the ground and kicking the pile of sugar off her foot. Kira stood there, pondering what to do with the sack of sugar.
     

  11. A solid five seconds had come and gone. The presence, whatever it was, had made neither movement nor sound... and it frankly irked Lan enough to be worried. It occurred to him that he may merely be under the influence of an imaginary phantom from his past, but he doubted it. The stink of killing intent was too heavy, and he had gotten pretty decent at detecting it when it was afoot.

    In lieu of all the madness that was occurring around him, it wasn't far fetched for one of his competitors to try and pull a play. Lan being taken out would likely draw far less attention now than after things had calmed down, and his opposition had to know that. His hand fell to his side slowly, fingers clutched around his lighter as though he were pocketing the device... then deftly slipping the lighter into the confines of his pocket only to close his grip around the reassuring structure of the DE-10 he carried concealed upon himself nearly at all times. He decided to give the phantom one more chance.

    "We can talk it out, if it's money you want. It doesn't have to be--"

    Lan was cut short by a plummeting object which had apparently sealed his doom. His head gave way to the momentum of the object, whatever it was... though surprisingly the surface yielded to him as though it were somewhat permeable. Despite the lack of bone-crushing power behind it, the sack of flour spun him round and dumped him on the ground chest-first without so much as a pause. The shock of kinetic energy and his own reflexes caused him to rip his DE-10 from its holster and discharge the weapon with a resounding "BU-WHAP" that echoed through the surroundings like a thunderclap. It hadn't gone unnoticed inside his operations cell, either... but no one bothered to check out of concern for the fact that he may have finally off'd himself, and no one wanted to clean that up.

    "F-frell... FRELL YOU!" He pushed himself off the ground shakily, flailing his free hand at the skies. "What the frell is wrong with you?!"

    The phantom in the shadows appeared to have gone forgotten, at least for the moment.
     
  12. Bathunkbathunkbathunkbathunkbathunkbathunkbathunk... bathunk bathunk ba... thunk ba... thunk... ba... thunk...

    Yora's heart beat slowed down the second she sighted and delicately scooped up the last boxed Naboo chocolate liqeur. At the very least, the most expensive item she had decided to haul with her to begin the cupcake preparations were more or less intact. The Nautolan woman took this time to rest against the landspeeder, cradling the boxed item with the loving care of a newborn baby. Pondering how much longer this luck would hold out, Yora surveyed the inventory of recovered items.

    3 out of 4 sacks of flour... 2 out of 4 bags of sugar... bottle of Tatooine cinnamon, Hoth salt, Bantha milk crémé fraiche... at least I'm not missing the crémé fraiche otherwise...

    Yora shuddered at the thought of making the frosting without that bantha milk. The diplomat had her in a very precarious situation. If she delivered the cupcakes flawlessly his recommendation would double her clientele but she failed to hold up her end of the bargain... she gulped awkwardly. She begun her enterprise as a baker-owned bakery without any major hitches and her customer base was small but becoming faithful patrons. Their interest was still heavily influenced by fashionably buying products from a nook and cranny operation and who knows what the word of a well-established political figure would do to it.

    Her tendrils started to blanch from their cheery, yellow-green color as pessimistic thoughts of the many ways her bakery could go under from this snafu before she shook her head and carefully placed the boxed liqeur into a crate secured onto the back of the landspeeder. She opened and clicked it close four times before she was satisfied the crate was truly closed and therefore safely holding the items she scavenged for.

    She was holding up traffic again, completely throwing away the prospect of being arrested for such an act as her eyes scanned the sidewalk looking for the second to last bag of sugar. Her heart began racing again as another minute went by without spotting it. Her trendrils began twitching again as the anxiety ate away at her, a small child in a passing vehicle started to cry when the child saw how wide Yora's black, voided eyes became when she saw a hooded woman standing with her bag of sugar.

    More good luck! My dreams are restored!

    Yora nearly leapt off the landspeeder towards the pedestrian, her large and slightly freaky black eyes glistening with tears of joy.

    That is... until she noticed the pile of white powder at the stranger's feet and the gaping hole on the bag. Her heart palpitations returned at a faster rate almost instantly. Her gait towards the woman slowed as the Nautolan sank to her knees beside the small ripped bag. Deep lines formed on her cheeks as her face contorted in a despairing frown.

    "Thh... thank you for f-finding my bag of sugar... I suppose... yes, thank y-you..." stuttered Yora trying to scoop some of the untouched sugar back into the bag through the rip, her tendrils writhing slightly as the thoughts of her small, cute, adorable bakery being closed down surfaced again and the beginning stages of her meltdown started.
     
  13. The maid politely spoke with the the young man at the door, listening to him intently as he spoke about the events from the evening before, while Dieltai was assisted by two other maids in the bath. Her hair was washed and dried before she scrubbed her skin clean, making it silky and smooth. Once the young man left after nearly being interviewed by her maid she stepped out of the bathroom in a simple robe before sitting at table and eating her breakfast, leaving her maids to do her hair into thousands of small braids. After breakfast and another thirty minutes sitting in her chair she was finally allowed to get up, her hair now into to massive ponytails on either side of her head, each one become comprised of hundreds of braids.

    Just as she began to dress into her simple robes her forth and final maid returned and approached the princess as the other three surrounded her and fixed her clothing.

    "Your Highness, I have learned much of the events of last night. It seemed there was a battle taking place upon the roof of the hotel. It seems that a Jedi and a possible Sith were the ones battling, unfortunately before I could learn more a fierce crowd filled the lobby and complained about their safety to the manager, forcing me to leave the front desk." She spoke softly as she bowed to Dieltai.

    "The servant who delivered breakfast said the same thing, Madame. It was also said that the Jedi was killed and the Sith committed a suicidal jump into the lakes, his body wasn't found...The mangers also sent up a message offering free accommodations for the rest of our stay." Another maid popped in, not looking up from her task of adjusting the wide belt around the princesses stomach.

    Dieltai thought quietly as the maids finished up her outfit and moved back waiting for more orders. At first she wasn't certain about staying at the Odyssey much longer but no other place truely compared to it on Illia. On top of that it would be even worse to return home while there were still some "issues" there. She glanced to her maids before she turned and looked to a large mirror that was built into the wall giving her a full body view. Her outing clothing were fare more plain than she was used to but in the end she still looked to be of royalty. The outfit was a simple black piece with the edges in gold. the sleeves were long and baggy while the rest clung to her form. Instead of the usual thick dress skirt she wore black pants and high heeled boots to match. A black sleeveless robe was worn over that and followed with a tight belt to keep everything in place.

    A smile drifted to her face as she noted that the outfit was rather low cut around her chest, giving a rather lovely view to any interested male. She may have been of royalty but she was also a mammal, and mammal of all kinds had the same urges, she just went about hers a little more carefully. She turned once more to her maids and motioned with her hand to dismiss them.

    "I'm still taking my walk. As for you girls, I want you to relax and take advantage of what the hotel has to offer, we are having free accommodations after. If you have to pay for anything then just tell them to put it on my room bill." She said simply, leaving the for young women who took care of her with wide smiles on their faces.

    She exited into the hall and quickly pushed a button for the elevator, the doors sliding open instantly and allowing her to step inside. The doors closed silently and she began her descent to the first floor...
     
  14. Rowrrooko listened patiently to the girl, appearing at ease, trying to ease her nervousness with his own body language. He could simply reach out and touch her mind with the Force, but he wouldn't. Restraint was another thing that he learned through his years of life.

    "[Revan... I remember Revan. Never thought that he would turn out like he did...]" He softly, said, half to himself, before he realized that he was rambling to someone who couldn't understand him. He held up one finger, a gesture asking for patience, before he began to dig in the pockets of his robe, until finally retrieving a vox-box that had probably seen better days, but they were so long ago as to be beyond memory.

    The light of the display was faded and the voice, though accentless and pleasant, was fuzzy, the years not being kind to the speaker. Squinting, and carefully pressing the buttons with one finger, he managed to get it to say, "No thank you. I am fine."

    But as the box spoke, Rowrrooko turned to the side. He felt something, the Force being focused on him, he had drawn someone's attention and they were using the Force observe him. They were nearby, that he could sense. And that someone was observing him demanded observation in turn.

    He looked back at Amayya and nodded politely as he found the buttons on the box to say, "Excuse me. Thank you. Good bye." and turned to follow that sensation of being watched.

    He knew that it might be a trap, and let his senses expand, but he couldn't find any near sensation of danger, at least not directed at him. But as he rounded the corner, it would have been almost easier to believe that it was a trap. A hooded girl standing while another girl was scooping... sugar? Some fine crystalline powder off the ground and into a bag. His curiosity was piqued, and he walked up to the two of them, attempting to look as nonthreatening as he could, saying, "[Do either of you need any help?]"
     
  15. A voice decided then, at that moment to speak with Lan from the shadows.

    "Hopefully that will be the end of your bad luck for today."

    If the Merchant Master decided to look before firing that gun again a somewhat intimidating sight would take a step out of the shadows. A Mandalorian from the looks of the armor the shadowy figure was wearing. That meant more than likely a mercenary had decided to pay him a visit unannounced. Yet it was different looking than most in color. Most of the armor was black with the occasional secondary addition of a contrasting yellow lining certain spots on the armor such as the visor. Down the left arm of the suit was a sleeve of fair quality black cloth.

    "But this is about money. The kind of money your competitors have started putting into certain ventures."

    +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+


    A Few Hours Earlier. . .

    A small private class vessel requested permission to dock and the hired pilot gave all the correct codes to the girl named Irene. It belonged to a female merchant who, on return from lavish vacations, was often known to have in her company some new boy-toy that she would spoil until she grew tired of him. Which usually meant the thrill had gone out of the bedroom. In her company right now appeared to be yet another one of those young men from the sound of the conversation in the background of the pilot's transmissions, a new one. She was talking her head off from the sounds of it, drunkenly revealing all sorts of delicate information about business related matters. One of her weaknesses was booze, but in her mind she was still very much on vacation.

    Nothing wrong at all with the entire situation.

    The ship docked without incident.

    Inside the ship, the woman asked her young male companion to check what the strange stench coming from the bedroom was, hoping it had bot been something leftover from earlier activities. From what her senses told her the door to the ship's bedchambers had opened and closed and that was it. Yet for anyone looking at who exited the vessel, they only saw a young Chiss male of a rather handsome disposition leave. No one else. Due to the bad feeling one got just from looking at him, not a single person dared bump into him. After a few moments a loud feminine scream of terror would echo from within the vessel. For the merchant woman had just gone to check on her newest lover only to have found the true body of her teenage blue boy-toy inside the ship's bedchambers. If anyone were to have followed the false one, he would vanish into an alleyway which would suddenly grow thick with shadows that the nosey person would get lost in for the next few seconds.

    Out of the other side would walk a male in Mandalorian armor similar to the one which now stood in the presence of Lan. As he entered the crowds, he could sense even more clearly the various presences felt from within the private vessel. On top of that people all around were chattering about a battle between force-users that had occurred last night. Between a Jedi Master and a Sith. The Sith had won the battle by impaling the Jedi through the back. Underneath the helmet a pleased but vicious smile formed in silent celebration of there being one less of their kind in the galaxy. It actually put an extra bounce in his step while heading off toward what was called Ta'Leren Industries HQ.

    +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

    NOW.

    "I can tell you what they're plotting against you. If you're willing to listen. But if you want to risk your business in what are steadily becoming bad times. . . then that's entirely up to you what happens."

    He stood there quietly biding time while awaiting some sort of answer. If Lan's interest was piqued the mysterious figure would remain, but if he should sense any attempt at violence it would not matter. The dark clad Mandalorian would simply vanish back into the shadows he had emerged from like a true phantom. Ghost from the past seemed rather unlikely right now though. . . more like a ghost from Life Day future.
     
  16. People could be terrifying when angry. Fortunately, for Lia'ry, she didn't have that problem. Having been around furious men for so long, she grew into being fearless of the powerful emotion. She could keep a calm demeanor, which often came off as puzzling to someone if she was the cause of such fury. So, Fynn's ranting and strong expressions didn't deter her. Even when he so forcefully approached with a kiss she was all too familiar with; one of rage influenced passion.

    In the shower, she put several relaxation skills to use. Massaging, humming and positive commenting, mainly. It was always routine with masters in the past and something she still used to this day. Fynn seemed to need the therapy; she enjoyed delivering it. Not because she was a prisoner that had to. But because she was a lover, who wanted to.

    Something she admired on his body were the blue markings. Since the day she noticed them, she felt they were less different creatures. The tattoos were blue; her skin was blue. That connection meant something to her, even if it was considerably a lame one. To her, it meant a lot. It took too long for her to find out where she belonged. The memory made her smile, her fingers idly tracing along the marks while she went deeper in her thoughts.

    Once cleaned up, Lia'ry dried off and went to get dressed for the day. They were entering unknown territory, so armour was a must. She got herself situated in the Mandalorian styled suit, then checked to be sure everything was intact.

    "Could we explore this place? For just a little while?" she asked right after she was ready to go. Even though this cursed station ruined their bounty hunting, she was still curious about it. This situation with the Jedi and Sith from last night had her interested, too. If they were lucky, someone involved with the fight would be on the Most Wanted list. That would be bigger pay than the one they previously lost! 'Don't get your hopes too high,' she thought with a mental sigh. Pursuing someone so powerful would be suicidal, anyway! A girl could dream, though.

    "Or we can look for food... I'm hungry," she suggested with a shrug. This hotel stay did cut into their routine. Usually, she'd have breakfast made by now.
     

  17. "Hopefully that will be the end of your bad luck for today. But this is about money. The kind of money your competitors have started putting into certain ventures."

    Lan whirled around to face the shadows, half-raising his blaster in apprehension. His instincts didn't usually fail him, but he found himself wishing they had been wrong just this once. His eyes widened at the recognition of the unmistakeable angular shapes and markings of a Mandalorian's armor. The DE-10 disappeared into the confines of his jacket far more quickly than it had been produced, but he knew it was a fruitless gesture. This newcomer surely had already seen the weapon and recognized it, and either did not care or had more to gain from him than just petty trifles... which made Lan keep his mouth shut for the moment.

    "I can tell you what they're plotting against you. If you're willing to listen. But if you want to risk your business in what are steadily becoming bad times. . . then that's entirely up to you what happens."


    Lan's eyes narrowed. This surely was a coincidence, but the Force was a fickle bitch. It could just as easily flip on him as it would to push him along. The Mando would have killed him already if that's what he came to do. Many other such questions raced through Lan's head, but he knew a pointless venture when he saw one. Someone didn't step out of the shadows to scare the ever loving Force out of you just to share their likes, dislikes and hobbies. He stooped to pick up the cigarra that had been knocked from his lips, which was thankfully still burning. He stoked the embers with a quick puff and then tilted his head back in order to try and get a better look at his unexpected benefactor... such as he was.

    "... We should talk somewhere else."
    Lan gave a meaningful glance to his building behind him. He owned all of it, certainly, but he wasn't a fool. What had happened with his exports wasn't completely an accident. The timing was too perfect. What that meant, he didn't know... but he was dying to find out. He nudged the fallen sack of flour aside with his boot. "Perhaps one of the lounges nearby, if that pleases you."
     
  18. Lan appeared to know his place when faced with a shadowy character such as the one before him. If only he knew the true danger that would have been invoked should he not have put the blaster away immediately. A limb or something might have gone missing. But then the Mandalorian would have needed to start all over again at another company. This one felt the most suited to fullfill his needs for a certain type of flexible plan to come into fruition.

    Still this was certainly a small victory.

    It seemed that this fellow was exactly the type of merchant he had anticipated, the sort who wanted to stay in business and even harbored dreams that it would expand further into the galaxy. Under the helmet a merciless smile briefly formed at this first sign of success on Illia station. Gaining a foothold in this sort of hierarchy would come in handy down the road. Out from the helmet came the voice again, though like most who spoke through a helmet it sounded somewhat distorted from whatever the man inside the armor truly sounded like without it.

    "Choose a lounge you trust and I will meet you there. I'd hate for corporate spies of some sort to spoil the advantage you stand to gain through me."

    At that the Mandalorian started to back up into the shadows he had emerged from so silently. Black armor melded with the darkness perfectly while the yellow stood out for just a little longer. Careful consideration went into vanishing at just the right distance as if he had not even been standing there in the first place. Whoever this Mandalorian was, he was very good. Definitely safe to assume that even though he was out of sight, he was still watching the Merchant Master from somewhere to see what he would do next.

    Still, how many men could actually vanish so completely? Fear would certainly cross the mind of anyone smart enough to recognize refined skills. Dangerous skills. Perhaps the coloration of his armor hinted at some sort of long forgotten sect that dealt with black-ops or something of a stealthy nature. It certainly was not all that common. But whoever he was, he must've known something important to approach Lan in such a way.
     
  19. "Choose a lounge you trust and I will meet you there. I'd hate for corporate spies of some sort to spoil the advantage you stand to gain through me."


    The Mando faded from view fairly quickly due to Lan's poor nightvision, but Lan had to arch an eyebrow at this. A number of conclusions flew threw his head at once. For one, he would have to be extremely careful. Something he was good at in theory, but practical application sometimes had its hiccups. Secondly, this would either turn out to be very good, or very, very bad. He was no stranger to sordid dealings and underworld etiquette... but if this Mando could simply follow him to the meeting location without it even being decided upon yet, this was the real deal. In the past, he had only two rendezvous of this caliber. Neither of them unsettled him quite as much as this one. Most Mandalorians reeked of killing intent at all times anyway. They were just that angry; always on guard. But this one... it was something different altogether.

    The preoccupied thought was plain upon his face as he strode through the door of his operations cell, heedless of the still-smoking cigarra that was held loosely by his lips. His CCO began to say something to him, but he quickly hushed her with an explanation that he was heading out and that he needed her to hold things together the best she could. Once he was in his speeder, he felt a little calmer. But the realization that he was still being watched stripped him of his fragile security blanket.

    He pondered a choice of locale for a moment. His yellow-striped speeder idled and listed slightly as it rose from his landing space near the entrance, bustling streams of multi-tiered traffic just beyond the controlled space around his business. Flashing beacon lights, vehicles of all shapes and colors sped by in controlled chaos. The station was nearly perpetually shrouded in twilight, while the orbit of the sun occasionally illuminated the sprawling cityscape that was the station itself. Nar Shaddaa must have wept in envy, Lan mused.

    He eased the speeder away from TLI HQ and made for one of the more 'quiet' nooks of the station, such as he regarded it. It wasn't that it wasn't a seedy little underground joint filled with thugs. It was that it was a seedy little underground joint filled with thugs so dangerous that they would never have to bother having a brawl in a lounge. No one would think twice to remember his face there, nor his shadowy Mandalorian companion.

    After a brief stint in navigation traffic, he lowered and rotated the speeder into a landing space before a glowing pinkish sign that read "Arlen's". Not exactly the first thing you would think, when thinking about criminal underworld. Most people liked it that way.

    Lan stepped inside, breezing past the bouncer with a careful nod and proceeding through the crowd to a booth near the back of the establishment. He didn't know if the Mandalorian drank, but he ordered two Sarian Sandrippers anyway. Even if the Mando didn't, Lan was sure as hell going to drink the second one.
     
  20. Kira nearly jumped back as her force sight returned to scanning the world around her and she was being approached, and rapidly. The flailing of the head tentacles and the glistening of the eyes but this one wasn't as touched by the Force as strongly as the one she was after. It only took a moment for Kira to realize what this woman was going for, the sack of sugar that was on the ground.

    "Oh yeah, um, sorry about your sugar...it just came out of nowhere, and kind of hit me and I guess it broke here..." Kira mumbled kind of quietly, pointing and making gestures alongside her story. She wasn't really all there, however, her gaze being taken away to the beacon of Force energy that was slowly approaching her and the crazed woman with the sugar. When the wookiee, approached it took all Kira's willpower to not raise her hand to block out how brightly the wookiee shown with the Force, although it had faded now that it appeared he hadn't been using it.

    "Oh no, I think we are getting things squared away here sir." She smiled warmly at the wookiee, wondering how long it had been since she had heard the shyriiwok language. It certainly was refreshing, reminding her of many races she had gone through on the Kashyyk courses, those were always the toughest for her, the trees shone brightly and Kira was always one of the more cautious swoop racers, always wanting to make sure she didn't ram face first into a tree. But now that she had encountered this strong Force user and she was comforted about the fact that she could understand him (although truly she knew a wide number of languages from constantly finding herself on new worlds.) It dawned on her what her next move would be, she knew Shyriiwok and she was sure that most people around her wouldn't and that would be a reason to figure out more about this wookiee.

    "Do you have a translator? Did you need help navigating around here?" She smiled, sidestepping the tentacled woman scooping up the sugar vowing to help her after she spoke with this mysterious Force user.