Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

A Nice Place To Visit

Gevaisa narrowed bluegreen eyes at the oppressive heat and humidity of the Iridonian climate, leaned back against the rented landspeeder, and examined the name on her datapad: Hamakk Nek'Vyshtal, Zabrak. It was the result of one of many inquiries she had sent out.

The twi'lek retrieved a small pack from the speeder and slung it over her shoulder, muting a sigh. No wonder there was so much fighting over this planet... this climate probably made them so aggravated they'd have fought over what to have for breakfast, she thought with a brief flash of irritation.

--------------------
PREVIOUSLY:​
Gevaisa had been three days deep into a treatise on the great Galactic conflicts of ancient times; the producers of a documentary holo-drama had wanted a historical consultant, and while the great wars were not her forte, she was flattered to be considered for the job. As such, it had behooved her to make it her forte by examining the works of other sentients.

The perspective she was studying had dryly opined that ideological differences between the Sith and the Jedi were behind most of the upheavals in the galaxy. The twi'lek's head tails flicked in wry amusement at this observance. "Good for them. It keeps historians in business," she had muttered to herself.

Scanning ahead through the lengthy treatise, Gevaisa had frowned at the portion on the New Sith Wars, and scratched a few handwritten notes on the vague references to recruiting methods and training practiced by both sides of the conflict.

"Academies," she had mused, "Training academies?" Gevaisa selected another data volume to search, both lekku twitching impatiently as this new avenue piqued her interest and rerouted her hunt for information down a different path. "Sith training academies... Ryloth," she smiled. "Dathomir, Korriban, Dromund Kaas, Nar Shaddaa, really? Nar Shaddaa?" she asked herself skeptically. "And... Iridonia."

Propping an elbow on her desk, she had thumped the terminal with exasperation. "Is that all? Nothing more? What happened to that one?"

Why isn't there anything else about the one on Iridonia?

She didn't know much about Iridonia to start with: Fought over for millennia, produced a good number of pilots and fighters, definitely not on the tourist or entertainment circuits... not exactly enough to make any inferences on some missing information on a single academy in the very distant past. Mulling over this omission for several hours (distracted hours in which she ignored one comm message from her broker, another from an art gallery, and three in rapid succession from the aforementioned holodrama producer, then managed to burn the delicate souffle she had started to prepare), she had decided to seek answers in person. She sent off a missive to the university to which she was attached, ensuring that the proper clearance would be provided--they were accustomed to this sort of thing from her, and it usually yielded a profit for them, eventually.

I'll need a contact on the planet. Someone's got to know more about this.

Gevaisa turned back to her terminal.

--------------------​
Well, the coordinates appear to be correct, she decided, eyeing the homestead sprawling before her. Gevaisa brushed a speck of dust from the durable but rough silk garb she'd chosen to wear and stepped forward. Let's see what Hamakk Nek'Vyshtal can tell me.

[member=Saevio]
 
A mid-morning sun is gradually climbing in the sky above, shortening the shadows cast by the nearby stucco buildings, which does nothing to abate the rising heat index on such a hot, Iridonian summer day. There within the open area at the heart of the cul-de-sac, marking the center of a collection of relatively small structures that accounts for the bulk of the Nek’Vyshtal homestead, Saevio kneels beside a grounded hover-pallet that is belligerently emitting a cacophony of whines and rattles. With one hand, the dark-skinned Zabrak retrieves a rusty hydrospanner as he powers down the blaring machine, evidently preparing to perform some kind of quick, on-the-spot maintenance to repair whatever malfunction is currently afflicting the pallet, which at this point is one step shy of being sold for scrap metal. Atop the pallet lies a stack of crates—raw ores and supplies—intended to resupply the family-owned forge to begin the day’s work of catching up on the ever-shortening backlog of work orders left outstanding by his ailing father.

“Kabno!” Saevio curses with a hiss as a naked hand makes contact with an overheated hover-motor. “Piece of junk…”

Standing up from his kneeling position, Saevio angrily chucks the hydrospanner at the broken-down device as he shakes off the pain in his hand, resulting in clanking sound as metal meets metal. After ricocheting off the pallet’s motor, which now appears to be venting some type of gray fume into the air, the hydrospanner manages to connect with a datapad that had been resting on the edge of the pallet’s platform, knocking it onto the ground below which incidentally seems to have been the jolt it needed to begin functioning properly. Now it too proceeds to emit an incessant noise—beeping, in this case—alerting Saevio to the fact that the perimeter sensors have detected a land vehicle.

Rolling a pair of golden eyes, expecting that the sensors are mistakenly picking up some kind of random fauna in the area again, Saevio bends down to retrieve the datapad from the ground when out of the corner of his eye he sees the intruding landspeeder along with what appears to be its unlikely operator—a diminutive orange-hued Twi’lek, dressed in silk no less.

What the hell?

Using a blind thumb, he silences the alarmed datapad and tucks it away into the loose robes wrapped about his body, turning to fully face the approaching Twi’lek. After moving to easily close the distance, rather than allowing her to be the one to draw near, he regards the Twi’lek through a pair of squinted eyes, sparing a moment to glance her over appraisingly before letting his eyes come to settle upon her own.

“You lost?” The Zabrak asks, lofting a tattooed brow as he idly dusts off his hands, though the question sounds more like an observation.

[member="Gevaisa Rha"]
 
"You lost? stated the Zabrak.

Gevaisa paused to examine the figure: Taller, male, dark, draped in dark robes, a bit tattered. Looking upwards, she noted that the care this Zabrak clearly didn't apply to his clothing, he clearly did apply to his vestigial horns, for they gleamed as though polished and honed. Her gaze drifted past him to the open area of the cul-de-sac, and she considered what appeared to be a broken-down hover pallet stacked with crates.

Briefly entertaining a thought about inept barbarian mechanics, the Twi'lek smiled politely up at the Zabrak.

"I'm looking for Hamakk Nek'Vyshtal," she clarified mildly. "Are you Hamakk?"

[member=Saevio]
 
The dark-skinned Iridonian narrows his eyes on the Twi’lek as she proceeds to overtly assess his person, rather than immediately answer his inquiry. Admittedly, he hadn’t had all that many dealings with her species outside of a few rather unremarkable business transactions over the years; for all he knew, this apparent lack of unease and hesitation was typical of her species. Still, she strikes Saevio as the type that would normally be keeping her distance from the likes of him, especially given her rather small stature, yet she doesn’t seem at all intimidated.

Curious…

Saevio glances over his shoulder, following her brief look toward the hover-pallet he had left in its pitiful state of disrepair, sneering back at it in silent disdain before returning his attentions to the Twi’lek in front of him with a half-lidded, fairly neutral expression as she dons a polite smile.

"I'm looking for Hamakk Nek'Vyshtal," she clarified mildly. "Are you Hamakk?"

The Zabrak’s inked brow furrows a bit at the mention of Hamakk, glancing past the woman for a short moment to scan the immediate area before settling his yellow eyes back onto her blue-greens. Taking a small step closer, as if to indicate his interests are now quite piqued, he finds himself wondering how this Twi’lek would know of such a name, let alone why she’d ever be looking for him.

Very curious…

Tze, he responds with a slight shake of his head. I’m Saevio Nek’Vyshtal. Who are you? And why are you looking for Hamakk?

[member="Gevaisa Rha"]
 
"...Who are you? And why are you looking for Hamakk?" Saevio had asked.

I’m Gevaisa’Rha,” she answered, averting her eyes for a moment from the sulfuric yellow stare or glare. The Twi'lek offered a courteous but not obsequious bow.

Gevaisa continued, explaining: “I’m a research historian and linguist with the University of Corellia -- well, I’m not precisely with the University at the moment, I’m working on my own project. I’m looking for some information about a very old…

Here the Twi’lek paused, frowning slightly. She wasn’t wholly certain about which political ideologies held sway in this area, and some sentients were touchy about the Jedi and/or the Sith and their depradations in the system.

...a very old academy here on Iridonia,” she finished vaguely, spotted lekku wriggling with the impatient curiousity she would not vocalize. “There is not much in any of my records about it, and the name of Hamakk Nek’Vyshtal came up in my searches as someone who might be able to tell me more.”

The twi’lek looked boldly back up at Saevio, considering his stance, his expression. I’m quite sure he knows Hamakk, and he’s surprised about something, she decided.

Gevaisa lowered her voice. “I do not bring trouble to your threshold, Saevio Nek’Vyshtal, if you are concerned for Hamakk. I’m willing to pay for any inconvenience to him if he can help me with some information.”

[member=Saevio]
 
I do not bring trouble to your threshold, Saevio Nek’Vyshtal, if you are concerned for Hamakk. I’m willing to pay for any inconvenience to him if he can help me with some information.

The Zabrak’s expression betrayed slight amusement for the briefest of moments as he reset his stance to once more regard the Twi’lek before him. Whatever it was that had brought about said amusement was short-lived however, as it was gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

You don’t bring trouble?” He asks as his tone seems to shift, though he doesn’t give the Twi’lek time to answer before continuing. “You’re a female alien on a foreign planet asking about Hamakk and an old academy… Sounds like a world of trouble to me, Gevaisa’Rha.

Saevio let those words settle with her before finally allowing his features to soften once more.

But I’m not too concerned for Hamakk. Whatever trouble you may or may not have in tow isn’t likely to reach him, especially since he’s dead.

The Zabrak allows the Twi’lek a moment to absorb that bit of information, gauging her reaction as she does so. Wherever she acquired the name, she clearly hadn’t been informed about the finer details, which was fine by Saevio. Though, to Saevio her story is convincing enough, but at the same time she is an off-worlder, and that affords her little trust with the Iridonian standing before her. Still, Saevio could certainly use an easy payday in exchange for information on that old academy, especially now that it looks like he’ll need to be replacing a hover-pallet motor.

Luckily for you, if it’s information about an old academy you’re looking for--and you’re paying--I might be of some assistance.

[member="Gevaisa Rha"]
 
Gevaisa suppressed irritation at the Zabrak's snide words regarding trouble; it would have been impolite to argue with him about whether her being female or alien or on an alien planet had anything to do with anything, but the impulse was there, quickly stifled and held captive under a neutral smile. However, that irritation gave way to visible shock as Saevio explained that Hamakk was, in fact, dead. Bluegreen eyes widened with acute dismay, and she quickly swallowed, shoulders slumped dejectedly at this unexpected apparent end to her search.

Another piece of living history turns into a damned dead end, and I'm back to square one. What an abject waste of my time. Maybe I can see if one of the other academies had a -- oh, you fool, Gevaisa, she chided herself silently. Don't be so selfish, don't be so insensitive, this creature was probably Hamakk's brother or his son!

Gevaisa dimly heard Saevio continue: "...if it’s information about an old academy you’re looking for--and you’re paying--I might be of some assistance."

Respectfully inclining her head, the twi'lek said, "Please accept my condolences for your loss... and my apologies if I have caused distress. I'd be pleased to pay for any inconvenience or trouble," that last word pronounced with a hint of sharpness, though she smiled gently as she spoke..

"However, I'm, ah... I'm not sure that you'd have the information I'm after, Saevio Nek'Vyshtal. I wonder if you might know to which academy I had referred?" Gevaisa paused and closed one eye in a wink. "Incidentally, I can usually tell when people aren't being honest. If you truly don't know, I'll be on my way."

The twi'lek was bluffing...mostly.

[member=saevio]
 
The Iridonian allows sulfuric eyes to roam over the Twi’lek’s animated features as they shift from one display to the next, catching all manner of reactions: from her subtle micro expressions, to her forced neutral façade, to her overt shock and dejectedness at the revelation concerning Hamakk’s lack of life, to eventually what seemed to be a slight hint of guilt. It’s more a force of habit for Saevio than anything else—careful observation, even to the point of awkwardness. Sometimes he doesn’t even realize just how much he does it, but it tends to help him analyze things, including unknown diminutive Twi’lek. Unfortunately for his social skills, it also tends to run the risk of making him appear rather odd, or at least a bit… different. Then again, he never has been much of a people person. In any case, he had seemingly chosen his words adequately, as he received the expected responses, so at least now he has a better read on this Gevaisa’Rha, or so he thinks.

Saevio could correct her apparent misunderstanding here regarding who Hamakk was to him, but he instead elects to leave that bit of ambiguity lingering for the moment. The motor on that pallet is giving me more distress this morning than you are, Gevaisa’Rha,” he assures her, jabbing an extended thumb over his shoulder at the still-fuming hover-pallet behind him. On the other hand, the day’s still young, tze?

As for your ‘very old academy’ and whatever information it is you’re here for, well… The Zabrak begins, momentarily glancing back to the seemingly vacant homestead as a quick breeze sweeps through the area. …Looks like I’m your best bet,” he concludes as he returns his attentions to the Twi’lek, as if to silently point out the lack of alternative information sources at present.

The way I figure it, there’s only one such place on the planet that would be of much interest to any off-world research historian, particularly one whose best lead was Hamakk.

The Zabrak pauses, taking in a lungful of air and exhaling it in something of a resigned sigh before finally continuing.

You’re welcome to try your luck elsewhere, of course, but I don’t expect you’ll find too many others with the answers you’re looking for, let alone the willingness to share them with you. But if you do want my help, I’m going to have to insist you explain precisely what it is you hope to achieve by digging into that particular past. Otherwise, I’m going to have to advise that you be on your way… empty-handed.

[member="Gevaisa Rha"]
 
Bluegreen eyes glittered with wry amusement at the Zabrak's suggestion that he was her best bet or perhaps only option, and the tip of her tchun twitched with a silent, stubborn flick that to another Twi’lek would have said volumes. As Saevio spoke, her eyes shifted past him to the homestead, the horizon, all around.

There was more than a passing chance, she thought, that this Zabrak was mercenary enough to say whatever he thought an offworlder wanted to hear simply to get some easy credits. She also wondered whether she would meet the same reticence with another of the species, and whether it was worth the gamble. Or whether this was worth the gamble.

"...if you do want my help, I’m going to have to insist you explain precisely what it is you hope to achieve by digging into that particular past. Otherwise, I’m going to have to advise that you be on your way…"

Well, well… she mused. Perhaps not just a mercenary. Hiding some secret? Defending it?

"Personal edification,” she said coolly, “since you insist. I learned of its existence in passing while I was working on another project, yet none of my resources had anything about it save that it existed, as did similar locations on other planets. I could find data on those other locations, even holos of some of the ruins, and I expect I could visit those ruins myself if I wished, but there was nothing on the one here. I would touch the stones they trained upon and discover who was involved and how they lived and died... and why there isn’t anything about it. I’m not looking to pillage some ancient training grounds or set up a university outpost, nor am I looking to update public record, if that’s what your concern is. It is that a void needs filling. It’s what any sentient who reveres the past would hope to achieve.”

Gevaisa took a step back and leveled a stare upon Saevio, such as she could from her diminutive height, and attempted to assess whether the Zabrak found her goal copacetic or whether he'd summarily dismiss her to be on her way and seek her answers elsewhere. “I would not care to leave here empty-handed, and you needn’t be left empty-handed, either, Saevio Nek’Vyshtal. What is it worth to you?”

[member=Saevio Nek'Vyshtal]
 
The Zabrak cants his head and arches a single, inked brow at the way the Twi’lek’s head-tails move, silently wondering what such a reaction might indicate. He had seen it before in his limited interactions with her species, but had no ability to decipher whatever unspoken messages they may or may not be communicating.

Aliens…

Shaking away the momentary segue of thought, he diverts his attention back to the conversation at hand, and Gevaisa’s response to his ultimatum. Lofting a hand to idly scratch at the curve of his jaw, where it meets his neck, Saevio seems to consider her explanation, letting an extended minute of silence linger between them before proceeding to respond.

I take it you're not especially familiar with Iridonia. The problem is Iridonia is a very …mmm, how should I put it… territorial planet. It wouldn’t be in the best interest of your health to go waltzing into the place you’re looking for and start touching everything—at least not by yourself. Blood feuds have been started over less. So, unless you’re packing some sort of stealth-tech under that… uh… silk, the Zabrak pauses, gesturing a hand toward the Twi’lek’s form as his eyes scan from head to toe, indicating his doubt that any such stealth technology might be clandestinely hidden on her person. …you’re probably going to want an escort.

Despite his apparent concern for the Twi’lek’s well-being, Saevio has a greater interest in establishing a certain measure of control over the situation. As harmless as she may appear, and as much as he may want the credits she’s offering, he still has certain responsibilities that he doesn’t take lightly. The truth is, Saevio is not about to simply disclose the location of what is considered by some to be hallowed ground, and let her carry on by herself. While her alleged intentions seem innocent enough, the fact remains that he doesn’t know this woman from a hole in the ground.

I'm a bit curious to know what she might discover, myself...

So, here’s the deal. I’ll take you where you want to go and make sure you get there without any problems. You can touch all the stones you want, and have a nice little sight-seeing excursion. Then, once you’ve satisfied your curiosity, I’ll see to it that you make it out with all of your… mmm, extremities attached, he explains, yellow eyes diverting to the Twi’lek’s lekku that still seem to be occupying the recesses of his mind. In exchange, you and your credits help me get that hover-pallet back into working order. Fair trade.

Agreed? Saevio asks, concluding his proposal as he extends his hand out to Gevaisa’Rha, a gesture that causes his sleeve to pull back a bit, revealing a glimpse of the tribal markings that adorn his arm beneath.

[member="Gevaisa Rha"]
 
Gevaisa tensed as Saevio drew out a moment of silence to consider her answer to his challenge; she was more than half-expecting this Iridonian to dismiss her explanation and simply tell her to GTFO his planet. Then, as he explained some of the challenges of travel on Iridonia, her eyes narrowed in a slightly incredulous expression. Blood feuds? Really? Gevaisa thought. I’m surprised this creature isn’t warning me about magical bloodsucking flowerflies and the Shadow King’s return to boot. And why the hell is he staring at my lekku? She surreptitiously glanced down at the head tails arranged over her shoulders to see if there was some defect with them. Seeing nothing obvious, she wriggled each to settle tchin and tchun, shrugged.

"In exchange, you and your credits help me get that hover-pallet back into working order. Fair trade. Agreed?

Her eyes dropped to catch an errant glimpse of the markings crawling up the dark Zabrak’s arm; momentarily distracted by the patterns and the questions she wanted to ask about their significance, Gevaisa scolded herself: Stop gawking at the wildlife. You’re here to find out about a lost Sith academy, not… research modern Iridonians and what they mark their flesh with. Gevaisa quickly weighed the most obvious risks; alone, she might receive a set of coordinates that simply led to a deathtrap (and/or blood feud) in the middle of nowhere; with a local being paid to guide her there, she could... drag said local into any deathtrap after her.

The Twi'lek drew out her own consideration for several long, silent breaths.

He must really need that hoverpallet repaired. I wonder if it's the motor or if it's the repulsor element.

“As you say,” the Twi’lek confirmed aloud. “You help me get to what’s left of the academy and back, Saevio Nek’Vyshtal, and I and my credits will help with that hover-pallet you broke.” She reached to clasp Saevio’s hand firmly. “Agreed.”

As Gevaisa grasped the Zabrak’s hand, a wash of alien uncertainty abraded her senses, clouded with a vague undercurrent of pensive gloom and duty. An sudden emotive suspicion seized her: Whatever else this Iridonian’s concerns and troubles, Hamakk’s demise did not feel like one of those concerns. Disoriented, she eased her hand away, even took a half-step back towards her landspeeder, and tried to sort through her unruly empathic perceptions.

Inconvenient intuition, she thought dourly, lekku a-twitch with the struggle to reorder her own senses.. Gevaisa turned away to examine the distant horizon and buy herself a moment to regain her composure. “Incidentally, did you overload the pallet or did the motor just burn out? Could it be the repulsor array?” She turned back to study Saevio, smiling faintly and calmly. “It could be a quick fix, and there needn't be any wastes of time. And, ah… as an aside… you do not seem particularly concerned with this... Hamakk's demise,” she observed aloud, “One has to wonder about your relation to him.”


[member=saevio nek'vyshtal]
 
“You help me get to what’s left of the academy and back, Saevio Nek’Vyshtal, and I and my credits will help with that hover-pallet you broke.”

I broke...?! Smart ass.

The corner of the Zabrak's mouth curls up ever so slightly as he exhales a quick, mildly audible burst of air through his nostrils, expressing a hint of amusement at the Twi'lek's interpretation and phrasing of the hover-pallet's condition. The amusing moment doesn't last long however, as Gevaisa seems to recoil after sealing the deal by shaking Saevio's hand. The Zabrak watches her carefully as she steps back and turns away. He glances down to his hand, silently wondering if she had maybe caught herself on one of the sharp, rigid nails that protrude out from his fingertips, completely oblivious to the diminutive Twi'lek's inherent aptitudes.

Must be the heat. Off-worlders always have trouble with Iridonian weather.

"Do you need some water or..."

“...It could be a quick fix, and there needn't be any wastes of time. And, ah… as an aside… you do not seem particularly concerned with this... Hamakk's demise... One has to wonder about your relation to him.

Perceptive, isn't she?

"Hmm... Honestly, I'm not much of a mechanic, but the thing is old. I'm guessing it's the motor, but you sound like you probably know more about it than I. Why don't you take a look at it for me?" He suggests, sparing a glance back to the contraption in question as he strides toward the Twi'lek's landspeeder, brushing by Gevaisa and approaching its broadside without bothering to await any sort of invitation; however, rather than proceeding to climb aboard, he braces himself against the vehicle, peering inside. "We're of the same clan, Hamakk and I," Saevio begins, responding to the Twi'lek's apparent curiosity, albeit in a deliberately vague sort of way, while continuing to peer inside her vehicle as he speaks. "That's all that really matters. Death finds us all sooner or later. His demise was honorable--by the blade--and that's about the best anyone can hope for. Anyway, he took his fair share with him when he went, and around here that's something to be praised, not something to be saddened by."

"As my guest, you should leave whatever belongings you don't need for your research here at my home, where they'll be safe for the duration of your stay," the Zabrak explains, nonchalantly changing the topic as he turns around to face Gevaisa. "You'll also need to accept a gift as a sign of our accord," he concludes matter of factly, failing to clarify the particulars of the Iridonian custom regarding guests and their hosts, as if expecting the Twi'lek to already be familiar with such customs.

[member="Gevaisa Rha"]
 
Gevaisa mentally filed away the vague information about Hamakk and honorable deaths by the blade for future probing and investigation, feeling that here and now was not the time for her to explore that topic... not with the Zabrak suddenly and bizarrely subjecting the landspeeder’s interior to some sort of scrutiny. The Tolian arched an eyebrow as Saevio peered into the vehicle. The skeptical expression was met and joined by her other eyebrow as the Zabrak instructed her that she would have to accept a gift as a sign of their accord.

Right, that sounds awkward. The Twi’lek cringed internally, smoothing a fold of rough silk across her waist in an obscurely uncomfortable gesture. It seems expected, though, so let’s go with... probably an archaic bread and salt hospitality ritual with some sort of honor obligation? Burning stars, I didn’t realize Iridonia was still so culture-bound. Well, when on Coruscant, do as the Coruscanti...

“Er, if this is part of a... no-killing-maiming-poisoning-selling-you-to-the-neighbors-while-under-your-roof practice, I would be pleased to accept whatever token is necessary, and offer one, if it is required. I’m embarrassed to admit I don’t know much of Iridonia’s current practices. So, if I should behave improperly or offensively, please correct me?”

Reaching into the back of the speeder, Gevaisa grabbed a large leather pack, slinging it over her free shoulder to hang heavy across her back. “...not entirely sure what all I’ll need. Are the ruins far? Can you tell me what the terrain is like? I wonder if I truly need the survey equipment.” A long, cylindrical case was tucked under one arm. “Probably not the weather shield, though. What were you searching my landspeeder for, anyway?” She glanced back at Saevio from under her burdens. “Spare parts for your hoverpallet? Speaking of which… ” Gevaisa paused, drew a metal-bound toolcase from the speeder, tucked it under her other arm.

“...I’d as soon take a look at it now, if I may.” The Twi’lek headed towards the cul-de-sac where the old, abused hoverpallet lay forlornly under a heap of ore and supply crates.

[member=Saevio Nek'Vyshtal]
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom