Private &nbsp; An Evening in Theed

Taiia Locke | Whoever else arrives....

Chaos NaNo: 361

The Nomad · Nov 1, 2020

D R I F T I N G

Tag:

Kyyrk |

Rylan Kordel
Word Count: 1,249

When the Nomad had been Hiro Okuomoto, times had been different.

He had not been a wandering vagabond. He had been a Master of the Jedi Order, fated to become Battlemaster. The laser sword he wielded had become synonymous with his own body. When he fought, it was as if his lightsaber was a brush on which he created masterpiece, with his enemies as his canvas. He had been the paragon of light, a beacon to the galaxy.

But Light would yield to overwhelming darkness. He had chosen, by his own volition, a different path. He'd journeyed through the Netherworld, and that journey had changed him. Some would say it had corrupted him. It had certainly destroyed his lightsaber, shattered its kyber heart, and twisted his assumptions about the galaxy, about the Force itself.

Some would say it corrupted him. But from his point of view? It had enlightened him.

He now operated outside of the fanatic religions that held their various ideals and schools of thought around the Force, the mysterious power that bound the universe together. While many subscribed to the ideological teachings and philosophies of the Jedi, the Sith, and the thousands of cults that had sprung up around that mystical power, the Nomad had come to learn that they were all false, that they procured all but a path to true enlightenment. For all of their pretendings, the true nature of the force would remain naught but a mystery.

His journeys had freed him. He was no longer bound to the power of the Force, no longer a slave to the supposed 'destiny' that so many advocated it to have. He was his own agent, his own shaper, and his own creator of his will. What he wanted -- be it power, be it the galaxy itself -- was for him to have so long as he trusted in one thing; himself. He and the Force were that of a symbiotic relationship; he was the Force's master only so much as it was his.

It had been the reason he'd founded Ophidian Dusk, on that fateful day as the rolling grey waves of Ando crashed around his derelict wreck. He'd been running odd jobs for over three standard years, and his latest one had ended up with him stuck on the water world. They had drifted for three local rotations, braving storms that had summoned waves taller than the skyscrapers of Coruscant, evading strange ocean-dwelling monsters and leviathans that prowled the watery depths. It had been on that day that he had been reminded of his calling -- that was, his calling that he would own no allegiance to no being other than out of his own volition and choice.

Those that decided to join him helped retrofit the derelict into a worthy craft of ocean travel, capable of tugging them to the nearest spaceport. Those that chose to remain loyal to their original employer? They went over the side, into the depths, to where they would rest in a watery grave.

That had been nearly a decade ago. Now, Ophidian Dusk was one of the most powerful -- and elusive -- crime syndicates to infect the galaxy. The Nomad was more legend than he was not, and mere mentions of his name in the underworld was enough to get rival syndicates and gangs to back off from Ophidian's stomping grounds. The Crymorah Wars, the territory skirmishes, and grabs, all of them and the various gangs included in them had made sure to stay clear from waking the serpentine beast, lest they face the wrath of the mysterious gunslinger.

Quite literally, the Nomad's reputation preceded him. So much, in fact, that his actual physical presence was quite inconspicuous.

A different man might have noticed how the lights of Theed reflected beautifully on the waters that cascaded around the strategically-placed bar. The Nomad did notice, but noticing and caring were two very different things. He came to drink for the alcohol, not the scenery, and in his travels, he had seen many things that were more beautiful and more hideous. It all made no difference. He came to a bar to drink, and to him what mattered was that the 'golden liquid' was good and constantly flowing. With those two things assured, any establishment would have his coin. They'd earned it.

But on nights like tonight, the Nomad was always interested in finding conversation and stories. And what better place than Theed, the new capital of the Confederacy of Independent Systems? The man had been around these parts before the nation of prosperity and droids had risen to power, before the Southern Systems had claimed their independence and sovereignty from the machinations of the core. The Nomad held no allegiance to the Confederacy, nor any other government for that matter; the galaxy was a chaotic jumble of governments, some who lasted for decades, some who disappeared just as quietly and quickly as they had risen to power. If they had anything to give to the Nomad, he would take it -- he took the offer from Roble Manufacturing so that he could consolidate power and capital for Ophidian Dusk. Ando had been the prime choice for his base of operations, which had been almost poetic given its history as the founding place for Ophidian Dusk, but its anonymity and irrelevance in galactic politics made it the perfect space from which Ophidian Dusk could operate inconspicuously under the title and front of Ophidian Consolidated.

Carrying a flagon in his hand of a light Corellian Ale, warming up for what would probably be a night of heavy drinking, he exited the indoor portion of the bar out onto the veranda that overlooked a cascading waterfall. Other patrons were crowded around tables or the balcony, drinking alone or in parties. The air was filled with sycophantic laughter, the symptom of inebriety. It was the Nomad's kind of setting, and he reveled in the drunken atmosphere. The liquid was flowing strong this night and caused even one woman to stand and give a toast. The words of fellowship were lost on the Nomad, but he pretended to agree. It was at the very least an excuse to take a sip. And to start a conversation. Hunched over the bar was a man -- a Miraluka, from the looks of the wrapping covering the man's face -- who seemed to be lost in a drink. For someone to have that amount of emotion poured into alcohol meant that there was a story to be told.

A hoverstool, powered on a low-setting economic repulsorlift, slid silently back as the Nomad vaulted atop of it to slide in next to this new friend. "This seat open?" He asked rhetorically in a smooth tone, indicating offhand for the barkeep to come over to where he and his new friend were sitting. he said, before giving a dazzling smile to the barkeep. "Get me a flagon of Merenzane Gold, and another for my friend here," he said, patting the table next to the Mirulaka. He fished a fistful of credit out of his cloak's pocket, likely more than enough for the two drinks, onto the table, and pushed them towards the barkeep. "A little extra, to keep the taps flowing," he said with a wink before he turned to the Miraluka as the barkeep rushed off to procure the alcoholic liquid. "So, brother, you got a story to tell? Drinks are on me," he said, with a devious smile towards the hustling barkeep.

Kyyrk · Nov 1, 2020

D R I N K

Voph didn't look up as the man took a seat beside him, but he did raise his glass in a gesture of silent appreciation as the man purchased him a drink. A few other familiar faces had wandered into the bar by now. Voph wasn't surprised, the bar in question was not terribly far from the new capital. The sudden move to the garden world had left many of the buildings unfinished as they were being pressed into service. But that was neither here nor there. As

Rylan Kordel walked in, Voph raised a glass in greeting to him. He meant to speak with the man before the night was out. But it was nothing that couldn't wait. The man beside him was seeking his attention. And beyond that, a story.

"I have many. Each worse than the last. Many gifts I may have, but the ability to tell stories is not among them, I'm afraid." Or perhaps he was just unwilling. Voph smiled at the man in a gesture of apology, and reached out to pat the man's shoulder. Voph pushed his empty glass away from him, and stood, collecting the flagon of Gold as he turned to leave. He paused, and turned back to the man for a brief moment. "But worry not. My stories are my own. I will share them with those deserving, or not at all. Thanks for the drink." Voph turned, and walked away from the bar, taking the seat across from Rylan, who was busy burning a hole in his glass with his mind. Or so it appeared. Voph watched the man quietly for a moment, before holding his glass up. "To another day, another fight, and another victory." Voph held his glass aloft until Rylan responded (or refused to respond), then took a sip of what he intended to be his final drink of the night.

Voph set his drink back on the table for a moment, still watching Rylan. "You know, I wanted to thank you for what you said the other night." Voph's head turned as he looked around the bar, watching

Amelia von Sorenn for a moment as he continued. "Your willingness to remain within the Vylmira sector...means a lot to us." Us. Not him. Not his people. Us. The people of Vylmira. "The Colony has always been resilient. And we had hoped that the Confederacy would bring a stability we had never known to our home. Not always the case, I'm afraid." Voph smiled ruefully and withdrew a small coin from his belt that he began to turn over in his hands, obscuring the faces upon it. "You have shown us a kindness that many have not. And for that, we wish to thank you. Though the planet will repopulate eventually, the Miraluka Survivors have decided that we will likely never return. If any of our kind do, it will not be to rebuild the colony."

Voph extended his arm, and placed the coin on the table in front of Rylan. When he withdrew it, the sigil of a dragon was revealed. "As our thanks, we give you this. A token of Vylmira. Any who bear it are considered one of our own. Family. Anything we may do to assist you, we will gladly do so." Voph fell silent for a moment. There was so much to be said, and yet nothing more needed to be said. Eventually, Voph settled on a simple question. One that even he dreaded to be asked. "How are you holding up, Rylan?"

Taiia Locke ||

The Nomad

Chaos NaNo: 590 Words

Luca Ioneşti · Nov 1, 2020

Theed, Naboo

Confederacy of Independent Systems

Sunset

His world shrunk, but it did for all of them. The losses were profound, and for him, personal, the weight a difficult one to shrug off when circumstances compounded further upon his padawan taking indeterminate personal leave to spend with her family, her children in the wake of everything that had occurred; with all her prior absences with scant notice, if any, there was a measure of not believing the veracity, a very small measure, but reinforced by the feeling that she still held something back. How did one person have so many secrets? He was certain he'd gotten through, with her presence at the gathering, but she was just in the midst of decision, and the message came soon after, leaving him alone with the cavernous echo of his self-tormenting thoughts. When, after a handful of days he could bear to stew no more, the Vandorian took to the streets of Theed, with the system star bearing down on the horizon.

These streets were home to the Order, now, streets he had traded the chilled stone of Frosthall for, though what had sent him here, and the reason, were replaced by a shift in purpose. Vandor, for its part, had opened its arms to some of their number, but his place was here, an inexplicable pull binding him, despite thoughts of family and the urge to go to them, but he sent word he was okay in early hours of the horrendous event, and a promise to visit when he could... however far off that seemed. All things in their time, so he had been told, once. Until then...?

He came to the entrance to a bar, as the last light of the day bled out, one he had noted but never visited. Rothe had always been ready company for a pint and rousing banter, and duty left little time for more a more insistent pursuit of drink; also, the next shipment of stout from home had been delayed, understandably, making it temporarily a precious thing. All of this and more had Luca at the threshold to the bar, and soon within, where he wasn't the only knight that found his way there, so it would seem, and at the tail end of a toast, no less. He scratched absently at the few days growth on his chin, eyes shifting to the toast-er, as the cheers died, what little of the reactionary bend of faint mirth that had come to his mouth dying with them, as he approached the bar counter, just as another left with a whole bottle of something strong, and two glasses; that didn't seem a half-bad idea - the bottle, anyway.

Luca paused, one hand on the lip of the counter, eyes shifting to one end of the bar and the other: the Lord Commander who was getting up to join the other man with the bottle, he recognised, and others he did not. Then, when he looked at the barkeep, upon being asked as to his choice of poison, the answer didn't come easy. Vandorian stout was the longstanding default, but maybe something stronger...? Maybe not, for now. What he would give for the trusted opinion of a friend. Just as the barkeep started to turn away, he spoke up:

"Just... give me a lum. Whatever's good."

The other man nodded, and Luca slipped into one of the two stools on either side of where he stood, crossing his arms on the counter, one snaking out only when the 'keep placed a pint of lum in front of him, to take it up and pull from the glass, foam painting his upper lip, soon hidden by yet another long sip. It wasn't half-bad, and he was a little less alone with the turmoil of his mind, even if it was only ambience. Banter would be even better, but if he were honest with himself, it wouldn't be the same with anyone else.

"Krasst."

A full half of the pint disappeared. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Chaos NaNo: 679 words

Kyyrk |

The Nomad |

Taiia Locke

Amelia von Sorenn · Nov 1, 2020

I M B I B E

Golden-yellow hues carefully surveyed the bar as the patrons seemed to pour in and more and more joined in their libations to watch the evening fiddle away into the nothingness of the next day once the sun would rise again. Though that was a problem to worry over for the future, for now, her own problem was once more an empty glass. With the tastings having completed and she finding those drinks that she preferred to the others - with a few oddities and unique tastes mixed in among them - she would settle for a drink that she had always enjoyed, a plain Corellian. That evening she wasn't feeling much more adventurous, though that could potentially change as the night continued to slowly crawl forward.

As her hand carefully cradled the crystalline glass, digits wrapped around the structure as though lovers entwined within one another's arms, she brought the vessel once more to her lips. That soft smirk crossed them slowly as she watched

Kyyrk politely rebuke the male that had come to sit at his side. Even she knew the proper etiquette within a bar just as this was to not ask for a fellow patron's story. It was to sit down and keep one's mouth firmly shut unless you were drinking or knew the individual you were speaking to. This seemed to be a case in which the newcomer had neither. Chuckling to herself in her quiet little corner that she had settled into for the evening - and perhaps she would remain throughout the following day if she did not feel like facing the sun just to return to the office - she finally took a sip from the glass.

The sanguine ichor slowly rolled across her lips, flowing freely as it slipped along her tongue until it cautiously flowed like a river down her throat. The entire time, however, her attention was not focused purely upon the act of drinking. Rather, those piercing golden-yellow hues carefully kept a guarded watch as they scanned the room. Not a single feature seemed to slip past her, or perhaps she just wanted others to believe that she was watching and cataloging everything that happened. She was sure that by now a few of the soldiers that had found their way - tumbling in through the door in some cases - into the bar had spotted her and even put on their best behavior as to not be reprimanded. Though that night she couldn't care less as to what they wanted to do in the bar, provided that it brought her some entertainment and amusement from their antics.

Raising her glass to them and providing a mere nod of her head, it was as if she were giving them permission to be a bit more engrossed in the activity of drinking that they likely thought she would have permitted otherwise. After all, they were all off duty - and as long as they could function the next morning, hangover or not, she was not going to keep them from their own libations. She had for her own reasons even arrived at that bar for the exact same reason - libations. Though her's were of different quality and taste than what many would consider.

Once more her attention returned to the individual that now was hanging off of the bar in Voph's place, and a devilish grin crossed her lips. Surely there would be some individual that felt the courage muster up within them to approach the woman that was tucked into the corner. She wore no uniform, nor armor, having preferred something a bit more comfortable attire that matched her sensibilities and the need to be mobile in such an ever-changing and unique location as a dive bar tucked into a hole in the wall. Plus, had she worn a gown or dress - often more saved for those higher society functions and meetings - then she likely would not have been able to slip the bucket between her knees in a timely and needed manner not too long ago.

Leaning to her droid companion, she whispered softly into her ear.

"Kassara, if you have any more of that Geonosian drink, have it ready for any guest that deems it necessary to invite themselves to the table. It would only be proper that we provide them with a drink to enjoy the evening."

"Of course, Amelia."

Kassara would respond in kind, her arms already going about the careful work and ministration of preparing the components to be combined when the time came in the event that some other individual came to sit at the table. For her part, Amelia permitted a devilish grin to carefully cross her lips, though she equally hid it just as quickly by bringing her glass to her lips once more to take another sip of the sanguine ichor that she was now enjoying. Setting the glass down on the table in front of her, a small pool remained at the bottom of the vessel, though she was not so thirsty enough to tip her head back and consume what remained - nor was she at some mindless state as to lick the glass clean to ensure she got every last drop. Rather she could patiently wait for another drink to be poured and presented to her and that was what she would do - as even Amelia did not want to overburden Kassara with demand and request, one after the other.

In that time, however, it seemed that the bar would have yet another patron grace its abode within. Amelia did not shift nor lean forward, rather her arms carefully folded over her chest just below her bust - less noticeable in the attire she had chosen for that evening. Golden-yellow hues watched carefully as the young man - in reality, within her own view, it was a child really, they all were - order a drink for himself and proceed in equally enthusiastic fashion consume half of the drink without so much as a flinch until he came up for breath. Seeing such an enthusiastic response to the need or rather desire to drink seemed to bring a smile to her lips, and at that moment a soft hint of her fang was revealed, though it was quickly hidden once more as her expression returned to that of her usual stoic nature.

Perhaps though she would do something uncharacteristic. Perhaps she would permit the individuals that currently resided within the bar - at least momentarily for that evening - to drink for free or attempt to consume as much of their own body weight in their selected drink that they possible could. It was a tantalizing idea and one that she greatly began to mull over in her mind. Of course it could have its own pros and cons - such as having created a rowdy crowd of drunkards; and given her own stance against the parties that High Marshal

Kiff Brayde seemed to always throw for the Bassardo Sector - if it ever got back to him that she had taken such an action, then she'd likely never hear the end of it when it came to the next budgetary meeting and she turned down yet another request for a Margarita machine for the Star Destroyers under his command. Still, there were few that knew of her in this bar, and what more, she could easily deny it ever happened or brush it off as a simple 'Do as I say, not as I do'.

Carefully crossing one leg over the other so that the popliteal fossa of her left leg rest against her right knee, she folded her hands one over the other and leaned forward slightly. Bringing one hand up so that her chin may rest upon it, she still mulled the idea over before permitting the little Maelibus on her shoulder to win out in the end. Sitting up to provide herself with a somewhat more commanding presence, her voice seemed to ring out above the clamouring drunkards, bar hoppers, and regulars that had poured in from the street.

"Barkeep, I've enough Aurodium to ensure that you can retire tonight on a single condition."

Her grin grew devilish as she slowly leaned forward, once more her chin rest in the palm of her hand as her claw like finger nail lightly ran against her bottom lip to draw the Barkeep's attention to her lips.

"You make sure that the drinks flow until you are either empty or no one in this bar can drink another drop."

Then to prove her point, she carefully fished the first few Aurodium Ingots from her pocket and allowed them to fall upon her table one after the other as she slowly leaned back against her seat. As the last Aurodium Ingot dropped onto the table, the crowd roared to life and rushed the bar. Surely then the individual that had been at the bar looking for a story would have plenty of other denizens to ask. Amelia looked towards Voph, and without a further word she merely nodded to the Miraluka as she once more grasped her drink in hand to bring it to her lips. Surely this night would be a rather eventful one now that she had riled the crowd up.

Permitting a sigh to slip across her lips, she smiled to herself before she turned to Kassara, seeing that the droid had finally finished preparations to offer the Geonosian Ichor to the next individual or any that she deemed to retrieve the drink should they invite themselves to her table. In the meantime, though she felt that a change in drinks was needed, and of course she turned to Kassara to ensure that such a change was met.

"Kassara, if you would, another glass of the Rattataki, please. The taste was rather enjoyable and pleasing to the palette."

Kassara would nod as she placed a clean drinking vessel forward unto the table. In short order, it would be filled with the stunningly blue liquid that Amelia had already sampled and found to enjoy not too long ago. Smiling softly to the droid in thanks, she carefully wrapped her digits around the vessel and brought it to her lips. A slow sip brought the ichor across her lips, and had she not been wearing as dark a color lipstick as she was, perhaps it would have even tinted her lips blue. Savoring the taste of the beverage as she closed her eyes to enjoy its flavor, she listened carefully to the chattering, cheers, and jeers that now filled the bar. Perhaps it wasn't the best way to spend an evening given her station and rank, though she seemed not to care at the moment. There would always be some other ball or grand function in which she could show off the more regal side of her, draped in a flowing gown and dancing or talking the night away.

For now, she was not in that headspace - she was not worried about the Queen of Naboo stepping into the bar, or some foreign dignitary arriving and attempting to talk the Confederacy out of their Confederacy First Mandate. All she needed to worry about that night were the drunken soldiers and crew of the Confederacy - and the locals that had rushed in to get their own fill of the drinks before they were gone. Amelia had the money to make sure an overt gesture, and she wasn't too worried for the moment about any of the potential consequences that would arise. After all, they could be dealt with in the coming days and weeks - depending on how rowdy the crowd got. Though with the thought of Naboo Security arriving to break up a fight or the party in general, she found herself tantalized at the potential for a show. Still, it wasn't something to dwell upon, nor would she, for that moment she was just going to enjoy her own drink - as well as patiently wait for the opportunity to provide another with the surprise of their life.

Kyyrk |

The Nomad

Chaos NaNo: 2,053

Aiden Wolf · Nov 2, 2020

Location: En route to Naboo

Relative Time: Two hours before landfall aboard a standard commercial liner vessel

Wearing: This

Tags:

Kyyrk

Rylan Kordel

The Nomad

It had been a quiet trip for the young man. Aiden was barely weeks after receiving his gift from

John Locke , a brand new cybernetic body with its own synthetic skin that made Aiden feel like a normal human. His sense of touch was never better, even being able to feel pricks and small amounts of pain, temperature, all new sensations that he wasn't used to. A gift for finally graduating secondary school with honors and being given multiple job offers in the fields of bio-engineering and medical sciences. Fitting since the boy himself was a complete cyborg, and was more than interested in making himself either be, or seem as human as possible.

He hadn't slept on the flight though, not only from his lack of discharging the extra power from his own systems, but something was nagging him. He'd received a letter from a man wearing an unmarked suit days after his surgery was completed. Cryptic as all hell. The letter had a simple statement abroad its plain white paper.

Seek out the blind one who can see on Naboo.

And before he could ask, the man was gone like a shadow. Aiden, slightly worried about this, would go to one of the closest mentors he had in his days in school. And when he spoke to John about it, he could only think of one person who fit the bill. The Lord Commander of The Knights Obsidian. Aiden would follow this up by packing up the few things he had, and booking the first shuttle to Naboo. Having an expense account set up by not only the CEO of The Dire Wolves, but also padded by contributions made from John would have its benefits. It meant when he wanted to, he could essentially pack up and take trips whenever necessary, and wanted not for any of his schooling needs. But something bothered him about this latest so called "mission" from TDW. They had said Sergei was on an extended covert operation, and due to communications blackout being enforced on the ground, he would be out of contact for months. Which was sudden, and delivered by someone from the company rather than Sergei himself.

He could smell a rat somewhere.

Aiden didn't say anything to John when he spoke before, wanting to find out on his own. Something wasn't right. He would look at his own personal communicator which TDW had given him, playing with the screen a few times before settling back in his seat. The rich leather felt absolutely amazing on his new skin, enjoying that feeling at least for the time being.

******

Location: Streets of Naboo

Relative time: Present - Sunset

It hadn't been difficult to track the Miraluka once Aiden began his search. Miraluka weren't exactly a common people in the galaxy, and while Theed was a large place, Aiden was systematic in his search. He would travel all across the city searching for a few tens of minutes across pre-determined zones, and even accessing some security feeds to assist in his search. It was there he finally got a hit on who he was looking for, a large Miralukan male walking the streets in armor that spoke of a not only well respected presence but also title.

Bingo.

Aiden would immediately hop a tram to the area of spotting the Miraluka, and would track down this Voph. He didn't know what to expect, having never met the man in person, but John spoke exceptionally high of him. And if John thought that well of someone, surely they were a good person. That and the fact that when Aiden tried to pull his information he found it buried under mountains of firewalls and red tape. Which was a good thing he was able to use his relationship to John to discreetly get as much as he could which was still barely anything.

And the file sizes were absolutely massive, meaning it wasn't because nothing was there. It meant that it was forcibly locked away, which made Aiden come to the realization that he was dealing with someone who was very, very dangerous.

But according to the letter, he'd know something, or at least it was implied that he'd have something for the boy. And in his mind he deserved to know. All those years ago, Sergei was the one who saved him. Gave him a second chance at living after spending his entire child hood as either a slave or a barely living weapon.

Sergei was the only reason that Aiden was able to stand where he was right now. And he had a feeling Voph at least knew something of this "mission". He felt he had a right to know. A right maybe not by birth, but definitely bestowed when Sergei had made him like a son to him. Sergei, John, and Gianna were the only family that Aiden knew of his whole life, and he couldn't help but feel a tug in his heart that something was wrong.

Which is why he had to do this.

He would walk into the bar and look the Lord Commander in the back of the head as he approached intently. He would get within speaking distance to the Miraluka, and would speak just low enough for the Miraluka to hear him.

"Mr. Sitdrisa'yr, I need to ask you a few questions,"

And while his tone would be respectful, Aiden was clearly not taking no for an answer. He'd done his research. He'd tracked this man down. If Voph was going to refuse his request, nay his demand, he'd have to physically throw him out. Which while possible, Aiden didn't plan to leave without putting up a fight.

Word Count: 954
TWC: 3005

Rylan Kordel · Nov 2, 2020

Glancing up at the distraction from his own thoughts, a faint smile passed over Rylan’s face as he saw it was the Lord Commander standing before him, while it was a small surprise, it was a welcome one. He picked up one of the two glasses and raised it in kind to Voph before downing the amber liquid, then placing the cup back down, he gestured to one of the seats at the table and watched the man for a moment.

When Voph began to speak, all Rylan could do was listen, what to himself didn’t seem like much, had apparently meant more to the man in front of him than he had ever known or considered. It made the polite smile he had already been sporting a little more genuine, he felt humbled in a way, while he held his guilt for not returning to Vylmira sooner from the training mission he had taken his apprentice on, this made him want to be a part of their society even more than he had already wanted, to give them the voice and protection they deserved.

There was a slight twang of sadness at the idea the Miraluka people may not return, but after what they had endured in the Cataclysm, no one could blame them, they were a people who had been through much, and he hoped they could find the peace they seek. While that thought crossed his mind, he was made aware of the coin Voph was rolling in his hand, which caused Rylan to raise a brow with a little curiosity, he had never pegged the Lord Commander as a man to carry tokens.

As the coin was placed down, and an explanation for what it was about coming alongside it, Rylan raised both brows in surprise and wonder, being considered as family to the people of Vylmira? It was a great honor, and one he wouldn’t take lightly, as family was something he secretly always wanted in his life. Reaching out to run a finger over the sigil on the coin, he gingerly picked up the token, and studied it, before finally looking back at his friend, the smile still on his own face, even at the question asked, which he was unsure how to answer.

“I am honored by this gift my friend, and I hope to prove myself worthy of such kinship.” he turned the coin in his grip a little, taking in the feeling of every facet and line, then cleared his throat, “I… have been better, but also worse. Not always easy to keep the darker memories locked away when you witness such scarring effects like we just dealt with.”

Looking back to Voph, he studied the man’s face, probably the first time he ever really studied it intently in the time they’d known each other, “How about yourself? I’m sure the weight of all of this has not been easy for you.”

As soon as his question had been asked, he found they were now being interrupted in conversation by a new arrival, a man Rylan could not recall ever seeing amongst the Confederacy forces before. “And what do we have here…” he mused ever so quietly.

Kyyrk |

The Nomad

Chaos NaNo: 536

Alora Fae · Nov 2, 2020

Alora was not the type to say she enjoyed anything. At least, not out loud, but force be did she find herself enjoy Naboo. Ordinarily, her people were used to harsh winds and violent storms that dominated a barren, yellow grass landscape. So, when she had joined the Confederacy and moved to Geonosis, the heat Alora had struggled. A lot. She wasn’t built for such a dominating sun. Nor indeed the acid orange atmosphere dominating Golbah City. Despite losing somewhere that had become a home when leaving Geonosis, Alora much preferred Naboo.

It was a sleepy sort of town, with sleepy sort of people. Everybody moved slowly, as though they had no pressing matters to attend to. Everyday. The markets were full of wonderful and strange things, just like Geonosis had, but they were a different kind of strange. Even the fashion seemed to be different. Longer dresses, finer suits with detailed decal, expensive materials that flowed with the spring breeze dancing through the streets.

Alora liked it very much, but much like Geonosis was different from Naboo, Alora was a different woman to the one she had been when she joined the Confederacy.

The most obvious thing, and the only thing Alora thought worth a mention, was that she was not alone anymore. In the deadly silence of a battle hard-won, in the crumbling structure of a bar that had once been popular, Alora met Rylan. She was not ordinarily the type to be impressed by men, but this man she had stumbled across in the most unlikely of circumstances left a lasting impression. They had been together ever since.

That was who she was walking the cobblestone streets of Theed at sundown for. To meet in a bar. Their work often took them to different areas of the galaxy, so Alora treasured the moments they were able to spend together. Whether it was socially or during a mission, it mattered little, but the latter was getting fewer and far between now that Rylan had joined the council. Alora was proud of him, of course, but she did miss him. So, contrary to her regular emotionless mood, and while she was certain she was alone, Alora found a smile breaking over her lips when the bar came into her view.

The second the door swung open, the smile dropped from her face, despite the fact that Rylan was the first person she saw. She cut through the crowd quickly, dodging tables full of Nabooians who looked as though they were already well into their drinks. When she reached Rylan, she sat herself down on the stool beside him.

“You are starting early today.” She spoke in a deadpan tone that did not suit her soft words. It was the nature of her people. Displaying emotion with your features was not done in public. Instead, the fingers on her hand curled into a position that Rylan would recognize as teasing. Followed by another that was far simpler. Affectionate greeting. The opposite hand reached out for the already poured drink sitting at the bar, which she happily swallowed in one gulp.

That was when she cast her gaze properly at Rylan. She could see the pain etched into the lines on his eyes. He wore it like a heavy rucksack, the weight of which pulled down his shoulders until he looked as though he were slumping. Alora had seen it many times before. It hurt immeasurably that something was plaguing him, but Alora knew Rylan like the back of her own hand.

He would talk about things, in time. When he was ready. Much like Alora, he was not one to be coerced into revealing his innermost thoughts and feelings in public. It was a large part of the reason that Alora had ended up teaching him the sign language used by her people to display such emotion. Which she used readily once the liquid in her drink had been drained.

“How are you?” Her flat tone asked, but her hand spoke more than her voice ever could. It flashed the sign for concern, closely followed by worry and apprehension. He was joined by others, but until Alora had ascertained Rylan’s mood, they mattered very little to her. They would not have the first clue what the hand gestures meant, so Alora felt no shame in displaying them. Beyond that, she was not normally one for socialisation anyway, and Rylan would likely introduce her to them in time.

Kyyrk |

The Nomad

Kyyrk · Nov 2, 2020

M I S T E R ?

Voph nodded sympathetically as Rylan spoke. It was indeed difficult to contain the dark within one's own mind. But it was possible to learn, in time. Even if it was a skill that must be relearned time and time again. Voph's frown deepened when Rylan returned the question. To him? It was the war all over again. Thousands upon thousands of people relying on him for their safety. And he had failed them. Voph didn't answer at first, instead taking a long drink from his flagon. "I'm alive." It wasn't a direct answer. Nor was it a particularly informative one. But it was an answer. And one that signalled the man did not wish to discuss his situation further.

The burden was his to bear. And he was not about to pawn it off on others. After another pause, Voph looked towards the girl that drew near to the table with a soft muttering of "I'll be fine." Voph watched with interest as the girl inquired of Rylan's wellbeing for the second time within mere moments. It was almost enough to bring a smile to Voph's face. Almost. He opened his mouth to say something, but then a voice reached from behind him. Mister. Voph paused, turning slowly in his chair to see who had dared to walk up behind him and address him as "Mister." Before him stood what appeared to be a young man.

"Addressing me like that will do you no good, boy. If you must waste our time with titles, use the proper ones. Or don't use them at all." Voph couldn't help but wonder where this boy had gotten his information from. He clearly knew who he was addressing, but Voph had not gone by his adoptive surname for years. There was something familiar about the boy. But nothing Voph could place a finger on. Though Voph was not aware of the method the boy had used to find him, it was no less impressive. After the work he had done in the past, Voph knew the value of secured files. Most of the files contained the bare minimum information he could get away with.

Voph regarded

Aiden Wolf quietly for a moment, then gestured to one of the empty seats. "If you have questions of me, best sit, and ask. I can tell you what I can. Though I would ask, who are you to have sought me out demanding answers?"

Rylan Kordel ||

Taiia Locke || Luca Ioneşti ||

Amelia von Sorenn ||

The Nomad || Alora Fae

Chaos NaNo: 407 Words

Aiden Wolf · Nov 2, 2020

Location: Directly in front of Voph

Wearing: This

Tags:

Kyyrk

Rylan Kordel

The Nomad

Aiden was noting all of the people who had been in this bar now that he'd missed. Several people were here, some of whom seemed familiars of this Voph. His left hand subconsciously closed into a fist as he glared daggers

Rylan Kordel . He didn't even bother taking off his sunglasses as he could feel his blood boiling in his veins at his rage. The object of his attention, the singular person who had the answers he sought. He wouldn't let anyone interfere. His left eye would start subtly flashing between red and blue hues as he struggled to maintain his composure, and his next words coming out a little bit more harshly than he intended.

"Stay out of this," he hissed

Rylan Kordel .

His attention was focused on Voph. In full plate armor up close he was much more imposing than his pictures let on. The Miraluka was absolutely massive. And from the way he carried the armor, he was either very, very strong or this armor was exceeding lighter than it looked. And based on Voph's size it looked very much the former. His tone however, being almost dismissive only served to fuel Aiden's new anger. He could feel old thought patterns and emotions stir, things he thought long either gone or buried. His voice was now getting more angry by the second, he could hardly contain himself as he finally spoke to Voph.

"I've traced all the data I could find. You're the only person he answered to, and therefore are the only person who might tell me what actually is going on. So I'll only ask this once and do NOT, make me ask again,"

"Where. Is. He?"

Aiden's mind was already running through possibilities. He was actively attempting to simulate possible courses of action that he or his friend might take. Possible answers given and what he'd do. One of the possibilities came up with

Rylan Kordel doing anything remotely hostile and Aiden would blast him across the bar with his repulsor cannon. The more his augments simulated the worse the situations became, becoming tainted by Aiden's firm belief that TDW was specifically hiding information from him. Their new Commander, Kerensky, he had no right to stonewall him with what he clearly saw now as a boldfaced lie. And he no doubt reported to this Miraluka the truth.

Aiden had no idea what the Miraluka would do, but if his file or how encrypted his file had been said anything he had quite the history. He was no doubt someone who viewed Aiden as a mere boy playing at being someone else. He was so angered by this thought he didn't realize he was gritting his teeth together. His earlier tone, that he gestured to the chair that they sit and talk like "friends".

No. He'd tell him what he wanted to know.

And he'd do it now.

Word Count: 483
TWC: 3488

Amelia von Sorenn · Nov 2, 2020

I N T R I G U E D

As golden-yellow hues settled upon the crowd, slowly scanning for familiar faces and appearances, her focus was once more dragged upon the all too familiar Miraluka - an individual whom she had limited contact with though had known from a number of more recent events involving the Confederacy of Independent Systems. There had even been a very short-lived meeting scheduled between herself,

Kyyrk , and the Grand Marshal

Luna Terrik , yet it was brief, to say the least, and seemingly nothing came of it nor was completed in turn as a result of that meeting. As she watched the table that now held host to the Lord Commander of the Knights Obsidian - as well as a few individuals that she had not known nor meet - an addition seemed to find their way into the bar and set their eyes upon the table.

"What do we have here?"

Amelia birthed the question into existence as she slowly leaned forward, a glass clasped firmly in her hand, and though she brought it to her lips - she had yet to drink of the blue ichor that resided within. Rather he attention was now fully upon the happenings of the other table, and the body language was more than enough to pique her interest even if she couldn't hear a single word being spoken. She was hoping that perhaps they might have a show tonight befitting of the libations that now flowed freely through the bar - yet that might also spoil some poor revelers night if Lightsabers and Blasters were quickly drawn. A slight smirk tugged at her lips as she slowly corrected herself, sitting upright and stretching just slightly before removing herself from her seated position in a graceful flowing movement as though she were a river quickly correcting its own course.

Straightening out her jacket with one hand, the other continued to gracefully and skillfully hold the glass aloft, avoiding any spillage even though she had to find her way through a crowd of jeering cheering drunkards. As she approached the table her attention settled on the others, though in particular, they seemed to settle on the young woman Alora Fae that had found her own seat next to

Rylan Kordel . With a soft smile, she carefully reached over to claim a currently unclaimed stool and pull it to the table - completely ignoring the other bar patron that promptly found themselves sitting upon the floor looking up at the ceiling when they attempted to sit down. Looking over her shoulder, she offered a smile while holding her glass up for a moment as if to toast the individual.

"I'll be borrowing this for a moment, my dear drunkard."

Amelia's voice softly flowed over her lips, dancing up the air filled with cheering, music, and all manner of noises that otherwise rendered her own words mute in comparison. All the drunkard knew was that for a brief moment he had been peering up at a stunning visage of a woman that had whispered a few words - words that in their mind could have been anything - and that was enough for the drunk to be happy. Amelia however found her attention once more upon the table that she joined, though in reality, she had not joined for conversation nor out of any real concern. Slipping the stool firmly in place between Alora and Rylan, she offered a smile while taking a sip of her drink once more.

"Please do not mind me, I've merely come to get a better look at the potential show."

The woman said with a soft gesture towards

Kyyrk and

Aiden Wolf , more than able to feel the tension that was filling the air between the two of them - and given the latter's posture, it seemed at least he was ready to pull something out to be measured upon the table of life. Amelia just wanted to see if that measurement was worth the wait or not, though if she were a betting woman, she'd have put the money on Voph personally. Once more carefully pulling the drinking vessel to her lips, she seemed to push all other distractions from her mind as she watched with a fierce intensity - even if anything had been said to her, she'd have likely not heard it as she was too focused on the potential for a little dance between the Lord Commander and this newcomer that appeared.

Honestly though, if they broke into a bar fight, it would make for a much more exciting evening - even more so than some of the stuffier functions that she had attended previously, however, she thought, such a fight could mean the destruction or dirtying of the attire that she currently found herself being rather fond of for that evening. Leaning back slightly on the stool, seemingly having impeccable balance and displaying what many others would likely describe as a super-human feat, the woman carefully crossed her left leg over the right. Sitting as though her back was somehow against the back of a chair - even though one did not exist - she allowed her left hand to rest firmly upon her knee, taking up a pose more akin to a statue than an individual. Though one thing remained constant beyond the glass of blue ichor that was nestled between the fingers of her right hand. Those stunning golden-yellow hues did not remove themselves once they had fallen upon Aiden.

It was as if they were studying the boy, carefully inspecting each and every inch of the physique presented before her - though she did hope that they did not get the wrong idea, for, after all, Alora was more the woman's type. A fact that she made known when she gave the briefest of glances towards the young woman and punctuated it with a subtle flirty wink before her attention once more returned to the other individual. She found herself rather interested now in the courage of the individual that had so brazenly approached the Lord Commander to demand answers - and even she wander what secrets it was that he was searching to obtain that he felt so strongly as to potentially cause a fight in a crowded bar.

Of course, her attention was drawn to the otherwise 'edgy' decision to wear sunglasses inside - even when the sun had seemingly settled beyond the horizon and painted the sky in purples, yellows, and oranges - beautiful hues that danced across the horizon and flirted with the clouds. Even when another patron opened the door to step in, it was rather apparent, that the shadows of the adjacent buildings had already overshadowed the small hole in the wall bar, rendering the need for such an eye covering moot. Though it seemed to only further the intrigue that she felt, even going so far as to note the clenched fist that shown a potential sign that this individual was ready to strike first, the entire situation only brought her smirk into a devilish grin at the prospect of what was to happen.

Slowly bringing her drink up to her lips again, she took a long sip, enjoying the flavor of the blue ichor before she carefully rose the crystalline drinking vessel up, making it easier to spot even as she quietly sat upon her perch. A soft smile remained at the edge of her lips, and she merely brushed off any attention she might have garnered from such a movement.

"Oh, don't mind me, my sweets. I am merely ordering another drink before the festivities begin."

With that she looked over her shoulder to see her companion at the time, Kassara, now silently waiting over her shoulder. The six-armed droid cradling a decanter filled with a blue liquid was cradled in two of her hands. In the others seemed to be a number of other decanters filled with various other liquids of questionable or dubious nature. Sanguine, Yellow, Green, and even Black ichors rest in the others, all carefully held as to not drop them - by the six-armed Human Replica Droid.

"Thank you Kassara."

Amelia spoke as she watched the droid carefully fill the drinking vessel to the perfect level. It was not so low as to prevent proper sipping, nor was it too high to worry about the liquid spilling over the moment she attempted to take a sip.

"A perfect pour as always."

The woman complimented the droid before she felt as though all eyes were on her. Somehow there seemed to be times in which she could steal the spotlight and this was one of those times in which she did not want that. Turning her attention back to the table, she rose the glass slightly before bringing it to her lips. However, she did not sip just yet, rather offering an apology first.

"I am terribly sorry, please, continue."

She gestured to the brooding, sunglass-wearing, uh teenager? She supposed the individual was a teen given their stance, their demand for answers, and just, in general, their attire that they had chosen to garb themselves in. It was only then after she had apologized, did she finally take the sip from her refreshed glass, enjoying the blue ichor as it gracefully flowed down her throat after having caressed her lips. Her soft smile as she did so once more hinted upon the fang that was just as quickly hidden once more when she pulled the glass away from her mouth and kept it aloft at her side.

This was truly turning into a rather interesting evening indeed.

Kyyrk |

The Nomad | Alora Fae |

Aiden Wolf

Chaos NaNo: 1,606

The Nomad · Nov 3, 2020

D R I F T I N G

Tag:

Kyyrk |

Rylan Kordel | Luca Ioneşti |

Aiden Wolf | Alora Fae
Word Count: 1,483

The Nomad's question was left floating, and that silence carried between them for a moment. The Miraluka seemed to be intent on ignoring him, and if that where the case, he wasn't doing too bad of a job, staring straight ahead, unmoved. If the Miraluka had eyes, the Monad would've peered intently at them with his own -- but where they should be was instead a cloth wrapping, typical of their species. A moment later the barkeep was back, two flagons sloshing with Merenzane Gold. "Mighty appreciated," the Nomad said as he gave another appreciative smile and wink, before tossing his head back and taking a long drought from the ichor. The Miraluka raised his now-filled tankard in a silent gesture of appreciation.

It was a start.

At last, the Miraluka spoke, as if coming out of a trance or session of long thought. "I have many. Each worse than the last. Many gifts I may have, but the ability to tell stories is not among them, I'm afraid." Or he just didn't want to, the Nomad thought with an impish sense of playfulness that didn't show on his face. The Miraluka gave a smile, as if a means of or gesture of apology, and patted the Nomad on the back. The gauntleted hand made the Nomad guess that this Miraluka was a fighting man, but as the man stood up, the Nomad realized he would probably not get to hear that tale.

The Miraluka was an impressive drinker, that was for sure. His first glass empty, he stood and grabbed the flagon of Merenzane Gold firmly in one hand, making to leave, but then pausing as if he had to say something to say and turning to the Nomad. "But worry not. My stories are my own. I will share them with those deserving, or not at all." The slight was not lost on the Nomad, but he inclined his head nonetheless. "Thanks for the drink," the Miraluka added, as if an afterthought, before turning and making for another part of the bar.

The man gone, the Nomad turned back to the bar, taking drafts of his Merenzane Gold from the flagon in a more subdued and melancholic manner. A waste of a good flagon of Merenzane Gold, if there wasn't a story to come with it. the Nomad was always curious about listening about others, but some would rather keep their experiences -- their pains, their defeats, their joys, and their victories -- close to their chest. But when they were gone, who would be there to remember them? Who would be left in the galaxy to tell their tales, to sing the songs of their conquests and failures?

It certainly wasn't the Force. For all the credit it was given by the Jedi, by the Sith, by whatever cult claimed to study and follow it's 'true' path, the Nomad knew for sure that the Force didn't sing songs, craft sagas, or write stories. It was the historians in their library, the friends that had been made along the way and the companions that had done the traveling with them.

When it came to the individual beings who held it so dear, the care that the Force gave in return was less than bantha crap. And that was saying something about bantha crap.

After long last, his tankard fully consumed and the liquid Merenzane Gold sloshing around in his stomach, he gave a shrug. That man wanted to die with tales untold, that was his choice. The Force didn't care, and neither did the Nomad. Fire in antique braziers blazed, casting dancing and flickering light on the smooth stone walls of the bar. Out of habit, he almost drew his weapon, the Sinner's Ruse, to simply admire it, but at the last moment he had to remind himself that he was in the capital of the Confederacy. He cast a furtive glance over and around the establishment. Anyone here could be some sort of high-pay-grade lackey for the Confederacy, you could never tell.

Only way to learn was to try and make some new friends, he supposed.

He cast another glance around the bar, intent on finding a new specimen to pass away the time with. The Miraluka had made for a rather poor conversation partner, but he wasn't the only patron in search of a drink in Theed. There surely was someone else that the Nomad would be able to whittle away the time with. Surely?

A sudden noise and raising of voice made his head turn, and what he saw was. . . intruiging. A young lad, one who was wearing a finely tailored yet slightly lacking suit, had confronted the Miraluka that had just a moment earlier brushed him off. This was bound to be interesting, the Nomad thought to himself, and he swiveled on his stool to turn away from the bar and at the two standing in the middle of the room. Over his shoulder, he called for another drink with the flick of his hand. "Surprise me this time," he said with a wink to the barkeep, before untwisting his neck and leaning backwards to rest his elbows on the bar's fine wooden surface.

This young boy had a lot of anger inside of him, and the Nomad didn't need the Force to divine that. The boy's left hand had curled into a fist, tight, the sign of irrational anger that the Nomad had seen plenty of in the streets underground. Another man approached him, but the boy hissed at him. "Stay out of this," a command that was spoken with a harshness that betrayed the boy's emotions. The Nomad raised a bushy eyebrow in almost amusement. This was bound to be fun.

All but pushing the third man out of the way, the boy seemed to refocus back on the Miraluka. The size comparison between them was stark, and slightly comedic; the Miraluka tall and strong in his plates of armor, the boy diminutive in contrast with a soft suit to match. From the stance of the two, it seemed that the Miraluka had been dismissive of the boy, a surefire tactic to enragen anyone who had just recently come of age. Who felt like they had to prove something. "I've traced all the data I could find. You're the only person he answered to, and therefore are the only person who might tell me what actually is going on. So I'll only ask this once and do not, make me ask again," the boy continued, anger rising in the lad's voice with each word.

With his next words, the boy enunciated them very, very clearly, putting emphasis on each one. "Where. Is. He?"

Out of curiosity, the Nomad reached into the boy's mind with the Force, seeking to discover what could possibly be running through the boy's head that he would be so bold and brash to confront this obviously blooded man in public. A fight on the Hutt Moon or in the pits of Golbah City was one thing; but a fight in Theed, a city so pristine that its citizens crapped in lavatories lined with roses, was another.

His attempts to penetrate the boys mind was met with a cavalcade of emotions. He seemed to be anticipating some sort of attack. . . he had a repulsor cannon. That was more interesting than the boy's complicated hormone-driven emotions, and if a fight in the bar broke out?

Who wouldn't be grateful for a patriotic gunslinger restoring order?

His mind was taken off the Sinner's Ruse as a refilled tankard was set to his side. Turning his head, still in his reclined position, the Nomad saw that it was some clear jade liquid. He looked up or his shoulder in question, and the barkeep gave a smile. "It matches your necklace," she said by means of an explanation, pointing to the Ophidian Token that hung around the Nomad's neck. "A surprise," she mouthed with a flirtatious grin, before grabbing a rag and moving onto another customer. He smiled back, but when he turned away that smile faded. Blast. He needed to be more careful with symbols like that. He didn't need to give the entire organization away to the sharp eyes of a Naboo bartender.

Stowing away the token int he folds of his tunic, he signaled for the barkeep's attention once more. "Be a darling and send a flagon of this," he said, raising his own flagon in indication, "to that fine lady over there," he asked, tossing an extra credit her way. The barkeep caught it in the folds of her apron before nodding with a knowing giggle and going off to make another flagon. Satisfied for the moment, the Nomad tookanother sip of his drink.

Things seemed like they would only be getting more interesting from here on out.

Rylan Kordel · Nov 3, 2020

Things are getting Interesting...

Naboo Evening

Rylan nodded in return to Voph’s response, he knew better than to push for answers, since he figured the Lord Commander was much the same as himself, in trying not to burden others with their own grief. The attitude of the newcomer had already caused the knight to roll his eyes, chalking the boy up to nothing more than a moody and edgy barely adult individual, he glanced to Voph, wondering if he’d be called upon by his friend or not.

Turning his attention to the familiar presence of Alora, he nodded to her and smiled a little, his hand returning the gesture to her, but also displaying a sign of affection and longing, he hadn’t realized just how much he had actually missed her presence till she was there. He’d have reached out to take a hand or kiss her, but he knew and understood her people’s customs and didn’t want to make her uncomfortable surrounded by all these people, especially since so many of them were unfamiliar to both of them. At her question about how he was, he shrugged a little “I’m okay.” looking to his hand, she’d see he gestured that he was better now that she was there, which wasn’t an exaggeration, her presence definitely took away some of the edge of darkness in his mind.

He gestured in kind, to ask how she was, while also signaling with his other hand for another couple of glasses and another bottle for the table to share if they all so pleased, “How about you?” he questioned Alora inquisitively, “I wasn’t sure if you’d actually be here.”

When Amelia had approached the table to take a seat as well, Rylan started to raise a brow as his head cocked to the side to watch the pale woman's approach, it was her words that brought him back to what was going on outside of his little bubble of focusing on Alora, his gaze shifting back to the edgy kid demanding things of Voph. It really did cause him to wonder just how long before Voph would put the boy through his paces, and possibly upend the snotty punks behavior, if not whole existence with just how brash and demanding he was being, especially when he held no authority in this place, after all the boy was clearly an outsider, and didn’t seem to hold any sort of proper manners.

“Feel free to stay and watch Miss… uh… I’m terribly sorry, I don’t actually know who you are.” his response was a bit sheepish when he had realized he wasn’t fully aware of who the pale woman was, and he offered an apologetic smile.

Kyyrk | Alora Fae |

The Nomad | Luca Ioneşti

Chaos NaNo: 445
Total Chaos NaNo: 1714

Alora Fae · Nov 3, 2020

Missing someone was a strange feeling. It was both painful and pleasant. Painful for the obvious. Someone you loved was far beyond your reach, and you had no way of getting to them. The only thing you had to do was wait. Pleasant because, well, you had someone to miss. You had someone you loved, that would come back to you one day. That would take away the loneliness. And there was something more to be said when that feeling of missing someone was returned.

There was no doubt that Alora had missed Rylan. She missed him every time they were apart. In some ways, she was a little mirthful that he had chosen a bar to meet in after being gone for so long. It was hard for her to show him the extent of just how much she had missed him in signs alone. Still, when he responded to her affectionate signs with his own, Alora could not help but break out into a small, private smile only meant for his eyes.

His answer to the latter part, of how he was doing, was less than joyful. Rylan tried hard to hide things from her, but Alora saw and knew him well. She would not press him here though, not in front of everyone. In reply she flashed the signs for relief, and understanding, before replying. “I am glad to hear it.”

“Myself? I am fine. I like Naboo. It is better than Geonosis.” She tripped up a little on the word Geonosis. Galactic basic words with impressions in all the wrong places still tied her tongue up in knots. Though her basic was a damn sight better than when they had first met. His next question made her flash a few more signs. Confusion, misunderstanding, disbelief. “Where else would I be?” She asked of him as she reached for the bottle to refill both empty glasses.

Rylan would not get a chance to respond though, as they were shortly joined by another who cast a dark shadow over the light wooden bar.

Alora cast her gaze to the owner, specifically the woman that Rylan had addressed. It did not linger long and soon found its way back to Rylan’s face. As always Alora’s expression did not move an inch. Instead, a flurry of signals came forth from her hand tucked beneath the bar beside him. Doubt. Intense curiosity. Hesitation. It was clear she did not like the look of the pale-skinned woman, but Alora was less used to different species than Rylan was.

In all her time the most shocking species she had come across was the Miraluka sitting not one seat over from them. Even he was a little strange to her.

This woman, however, seemed to be altogether different to Alora. Her skin was far too pale. Paperwhite. As though Alora could have placed a book beneath her wrist and still be able to make out every word. It was her eyes that unnerved her most. Alora chanced another quick glimpse at them. They were burning with yellow fire that flickered in the dim atmosphere of the bar. If could have been pitch-black, and Alora was certain she would be able to see them glaring at her even then.

She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, the first sign that something was truly unsettling her. Even that was far too much emotion for her to display in such a crowded room. Deep down, she knew that Rylan would not have been talking to her if she was in any way dangerous. He would not have been sitting across the bar from her, asking her name and likely looking to offer her a drink.

Alora just could not shake the feeling that there was something… unnatural about her.

Kyyrk · Nov 5, 2020

S C H O O L

Voph was not one for mirthful expression. Never had been, and never would be. Particularly not in these days after the Cataclysm. But what little civility was present in the man's face slowly faded away as his jaw set. The cybernetic being was demanding answers. To what? Voph had no idea. Voph had suggested the boy sit and ask his question, but intelligence was clearly not the being's forte. Rather than accept Voph's offer, he instead insisted that his half-question be answered. And, more to the point, he saw fit to snap at Master Rylan for a simple rhetorical question.

Voph still sat in his chair, half turned to look at the being behind him. Though the boy had angered him, Voph did not rise from his chair. He was not worth that effort. "I'm sorry, you seem to have gotten the idea that this was a negotiation." Voph pointed at the chair beside him without looking. The gesture was not an indication so much as it was a silent command. A command followed by a much more direct and verbal one. "If you expect me to answer any question of yours, you will sit down."

The finger Voph had pointed towards the chair was then brought to bear on the boy. "After the month I have had, I am in no mood for jest nor games. I don't know who in the nine hells you think you are walking in here and demanding answers of me to questions you won't even ask, but if you expect my help you damn well had better earn it. I extended you a hand of good will once, and I can't help but notice bite marks. A little civility goes a long way, boy. You had best learn that. From now on, even if I do know the answer to your question, you'll have to earn it. You had your chance at a free pass. But no. Apparently sitting down and discussing business like rational beings is too good for you."

Voph was quiet for a moment, then turned back to the table. "My apologies, friends. This is why I seldom drink in public." He offered the two newcomers brief nods of recognition before taking another gulp of his drink. At this point, Aiden had two choices. He could sit down, and discuss things like rational men did, or he could continue to act like a petulant child. If the latter, then Voph was well and truly finished with his conversation with the being. Tonight was supposed to be one of relaxing. For all the good that seemed to do him these days...

Rylan Kordel ||

Amelia von Sorenn || Alora Fae ||

Aiden Wolf

Chaos NaNo: 440

Aiden Wolf · Nov 6, 2020

Location: Directly in front of Voph

Wearing: This

Tags:

Kyyrk

Rylan Kordel

The Nomad

Aiden was.... extremely angry at the response to say the least. This one, this Voph was treating him like a child. Like he was nothing but someone to brush aside. That he was weak. That he didn't deserve anything he'd had.

He wanted to crush this Miraluka's skull for being so openly apathetic.

He wanted to grab this man and slam his skull through the table he was sitting at. To grab the closest chair to him and break it over him before stabbing him in the back repeatedly for not even bothering to actually look at the kid. To fire his repulsor cannon into him at point blank range just so he could leap forward and tear his heart out with his Phrik-A claws. He wanted to tear his throat out with his teeth. But most of all, he wanted this man to feel his pain, if not metaphorically then physically.

Because he had to know. He had to know why Aiden was here, and was playing blasé about it all and for what? So he could eventually lie to him just like the rest of TDW? So he could brush him off like the mite he thought he saw behind him?

No. Aiden would not let anything stop him. But he would look into the empty sockets this Voph had for eyes before he decided to make him the first to pay for lying to him. For keeping the truth from him. For all he knew he had Sergei somewhere in some god forsaken hole and he needed help. Which in and of itself was doubtful, but he didn't dare think of the alternative. Because that simply wasn't possible. There wasn't a thing in the galaxy Sergei or The Dire Wolves couldn't defeat, or couldn't kill. The man was a force of nature, exponentially magnified because he lead one of the most effective, aggressive and in most cases absolutely terrifying fighting forces in the CIS, if not the galaxy. He was THE Dire Wolf after all for good reason. So he had to know. He had to get his answers. This Miraluka wanted to play games? Fine. He'd break the table with his face when he finished for wasting his time.

Aiden's fist would unclench as he stepped around the table directly opposite of Voph, taking one of the chairs from the table and flipping it around so if necessary he could kick through it to either throw the table into Voph, or have a readily accessible weapon to quickly deal with his friends. He could feel a dark aura behind him, not even needing to turn to see a dark figure only he could ever see. The base instincts, the animal that lurked behind his carefully constructed defenses to keep it at bay. To keep it locked away, never to see the light of day ever again. His words while slightly more measured and controlled than before, would not do well to hide his still quite visibly angry state.

"How am I supposed to act when all I've seen from you and yours is people lying to my face? Even The Dire Wolves, the very men and women who raised me, won't tell me the truth that I seek. John (

John Locke ) won't say a word, and Gia (

Gianna Aegis ) doesn't know what's going on. You expect me to believe that suddenly he's on a mission for weeks on end, with no contact, no explanation, no warning that he can't even tell me before he left? You expect me to sit back and be content with being lied to and treated like some Ra'Kathan snob who's never had to deal with trouble before? I deserve to know the truth. As his son, you owe me an explanation as to why I was lied to, and where he really is,"

His voice would turn slightly exasperated and desperate as he spoke the question once more, this time specifically calling out the 'he' by name.

"Where is my father? Where is Sergei Jachovich?"

Aiden was happy he'd left his glasses on, happy to hide his own eyes as he stared at

Kyyrk directly past the table. He was staring what to him seemed to be the enemy at this point, someone he should be quite prepared to destroy. As bad of an idea as it was, he wished he had his blade, the weight of the weapon being a comfort to him as he'd trained on it quite extensively. Being unable to physically push his body outside of cardio and some core training (which at this point was nigh useless because of his augmentations), he had to find something to challenge himself with to stay engaged at school. His life as a child soldier before hand had made the school life after his initial introduction to society frankly boring. The teachers, the tests, the material was all to be predictable and repetitive, resorting to practicing his martial arts with both hand to hand and bladed weapons. That was the only challenge that had stimulated him, alongside doing extra projects for fun. And now he was "all grown up", out of school and on his own. Taking on his first real world adult challenge which to him seemed to be picking a fight with probably one of the most dangerous men alive in the Confederacy, aside from Sergei.

Which was why he wanted to hide just how desperate he was to find the man who'd adopted him. Why he needed to make sure the one person out of the three people he could trust in his life was okay. Uncle John and Aunt Gia were excellent people, who had certainly imparted their own gifts onto Aiden, but Sergei's gift was on another level entirely. The gift of a second chance at life, a chance to rise from poverty, hunger, from being a slave raised, indoctrinated, and so pumped full of drugs meant to make him a tool of war, of slaughter. A weapon of mass murder, an animal, a thing designed purely for violence.

A monster.

And now this person, this.... Voph, was the only thing that stood in his way between him and his goal. And if Sergei had taught Aiden anything, he wasn't going to back down. He couldn't give up or allow this single person, no matter who he might be, to stop him.

Word Count: 1070
TWC: 4558

Amelia von Sorenn · Nov 6, 2020

I N T R I G U E D

Amelia, having just settled in and found herself in a comfortable position in which she was leaned forward, one leg slipped over the other as her hand rests comfortably upon her knee - whilst her other hand carefully cradled a drink - was finally ready and able to watch the blows there were sure to come in the next few moments. She watched with anticipation, bated breath catching in her throat only for a new distraction to catch her attention. Upon hearing the young man's words, a soft sigh slipped from her lips - through her attention did not shift, preferring to stay on the broody teen and the Lord Commander as they became embattled in a testament of wills to see which would break sooner.

Without so much as looking, her free hand slipped away from where it had been resting upon her knee and came to rest on

Rylan Kordel face - almost as if she were attempting to palm a basketball, or if she had been blind, it would look like she was attempting to ascertain his facial features. Rather, once she was sure it was his face, having placed herself between him and the lovely Alora Fae at the ever-crowded table, her fingers slipped down until she had a firm grasp of the gentleman's chin. Once her fingers were in place, she carefully turned his head so that he was also peering at the broody teenager, with only a few words slipping from her lips to explain her actions.

"Talk later, watch now."

She spoke softly before her hand slipped away - though not before parting with a few light taps on his cheek as if she were an aunt praising him for how handsome he had grown up to be. In her own mind, she was endearing, though she also didn't seem to mind nor care about making a first impression - albeit she should have given her own position. Still, the silent nod that she received from

Kyyrk when she had taken her seat would be returned in kind, with an added raising of her glass - in both comradery and as a means to wish him luck in his pending bar room pugilism. That was what she was more focused on in that instant - however, it would appear that her evening entertainment would be rendered a moot point as she watched the broody teen finally take a seat at the table that the Lord Commander had so graciously offered him a number of times previous.

"Well, what a shame. My dear Lord Commander, if you find yourself itching to magically throw a chair from across the room at this young man, please do inform me so that I may watch in a timely manner. I would hate to miss such a feat between the two of you. If you'll excuse me though, I'll be right here, speaking to this rather lovely young woman."

Amelia offered a sly smile as her attention once more turned to Alora - though she also realized that she had forgotten someone or more than just one individual that was still at the table. Ah, yes, it was the gentleman that she had so graciously slipped between to get a better view, and whose own head she had quite literally turned. It was at that moment that she decided to be more presentable in her manners as she carefully sat the crystalline drinking vessel down on the table before her, allowing the blue ichor within to settle as she straightened herself up. It was almost as if someone had flicked a switch with how quickly she had gone from some random female eager to see a fight in a bar - that anyone could have easily mistaken for a fellow drunkard and reveler - to a more refined appearance and dignified tone that had a hint of gravitas to lend it weigh. As she straightened herself up, keeping her legs crossed carefully as her hands came together, clasped slightly and resting upon her knee, she turned her attention slowly from the young woman - who up until that moment had all of her focus outside of the possibility of an enjoyable show of force - to the young man that had just recently asked whom she was.

She did understand though that not many in that bar - save for the soldiers, Lord Commander, and one or two other patrons - likely knew who she was just at a glance. At least, not when she had decided on more comfortable attire outside of a suit of armor and a helm to hide her features. Golden-yellow hues fell upon the young man, almost as if she were trying to look deep into his soul, or through his person as she leaned forward slightly. The more one watched her, the easier it was to understand and detect that there was something, otherworldly, about the woman. A soft smile crept across her lips and her fangs shown for just the barest of glimpses before her lips pulled back to return to the normal resting-queen-face that she had been so blessed with at birth.

"My name is Grand Marshal Amelia von Sorenn of the Confederacy of Independent Systems Naval Command."

Amelia would simply slowly pull herself back, returning to her high postured appearance as she permitted her attention to shift back towards the teenager that had finally decided to sit at the behest - and threat - of the Lord Commander. Once more that sly smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, all while she leaned forward to reclaim her glass from where it sat patiently before the woman. Carefully slipping her slender digits around the drinking vessel, she methodically brought it to her lips before once again imbibing the blue ichor from within - all the while keeping those golden-yellow hues peering over the rim to ensure that she didn't miss a single thing.

Of course, upon hearing the Lord Commander apologize as to the reason he seldom drunk in public did strike a nerve. After all, it was not his fault, nor his place to apologize for the behavior of another that had so readily and easily disturbed - what would have otherwise been - a rather lovely evening. Keeping her attention upon the young man, she slowly brought the drink down, once more resting it gingerly upon the table before her hand withdrew from the vessel. She was not accustomed to individuals apologizing for the behaviors of others - least of all - those that were likely, in some manner of station or position, beneath them. She personally felt that one should always be responsible for their own actions - and in the case of leadership - responsible for the actions of their subordinates, or at the very least, attempt to rectify the situation that they had cause. She could see though, that in this case, there was no individual to apologize for their actions beyond the individual that had finally sat down at the table like a proper adult.

"No need to apologize, Lord Commander, I am sure that once we have all collected our thoughts and permitted a clearer, more logical minds to prevail, then a proper apology for one's behavior can be levied. Until such a time, however, please, do assist the lost little duckling."

Amelia carefully sat back up, providing herself with a more commanding view as well as straightening herself up to ensure better posture - having a desire to avoid a curvature of the spin if she had slouched too often. Slowly her attention would shift away again, once more settling upon the young woman that she was now rudely highjacking the conversation she was having with Rylan. A soft - though sickly sweet smile - remained upon her lips as she spoke up again.

"I do believe I missed your name, Miss?"

The woman spoke softly whilst slowly extending a hand towards the young woman to show that she meant no harm - well, at least no harm in the physical or mental sense of causing pain without some sort of pleasure. However, such scenes were always - almost as if by magic - accompanied by a strange black curtain that caused time to slip by rather quickly as if someone were avoiding describing the actions between two consenting adults. Amelia - like many others - would merely chalk it up to one of the Mysteries of the Galaxy and the Force that so often seemed to dominate the lives of the denizens of the Galaxy.