Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Badges, Bruises and Boozin' [Open to Green Jedi]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYkhNWIdra0​

It was downright ironic is what it was. It was almost like when she'd been first locked up all over again. Then it had been over something she hadn't even done. At least this time the crime really was hers, but instead of getting her for all the executions she'd pulled off, or murders as the law thought of them, it was for theft.

Some assassins made a lot of credits. Were rolling in it. Nan didn't. Because she didn't kill for other people. She killed for the people. She took out the scum other people turned a blind eye to. The ones who preyed on the weak, who paid off the law. So sometimes she didn't have the credits for necessities. For food or clothes. Ammo. Apparently, her light fingers hadn't been light enough, and she'd worn her own face often enough that they'd caught on to her. Had started building a portfolio. A case. And eventually she'd been nabbed.

In broad daylight an official law enforcement speeder had pulled up, she'd not run because she didn't think she had any reason to, two burly officers had come barrelling out and the next thing she knew she was being handcuffed and bodily thrown into the speeder.

Now here she was, cuffed to a table and watching a harried looking officer enter with a very thick folder and a cup of caf. Good cop.

"Don't bother, ain't talkin' t'you bizzie, might as well send in th'bad cop."

He ignored that, sitting down and opening the folder, he looked at her over the top of it. "Shinnan Moreno, aka Nan, aka Wight, aka the Red Death, aka-"

"Ain't none of them AKA's other'n Nan. Ain't m'names and I ain't answerin' t'em. I didn't do nothin' so you can't prove nothin'."

"Oh we can't prove most of what we suspect, that's true, but we can get you for the theft of several thousand credits worth of goods over the last several months. Enough to put someone like you back in jail. Did you enjoy it the first time? And I bet you've made a few enemies who'd love to have you locked up in one place where they can find you, haven't you? Sound like fun?"

"What've you got me in this room for then bizzie? If you got me so dead to rights, then lock me away. Don't gotta gloat about it."

"We know you're force sensitive Ms Moreno."

"Don't know nothin' about that."

"Well we know more than enough. And while the things we suspect you of are entirely illegal and we do not approve.. Some of us worked our way up and remember where we come from, and what it's like there. So. I've arranged something a little.. non-standard."


"A-yuh? Y'got such a hard-on for me, don't mean I got one fer you. What d'y'want bizzie. Spit it out."

"I've spoken to the Green Jedi. We've arranged for you to become a probationary member."

"Ain't interested."

"It's not optional."

"Fine I'm a Green Jedi, uncuff me."

"Lip service isn't enough Ms Moreno. We've arranged for you to have a mentor. Think of him as your parole officer. You don't check in with and spend enough time with him, we come after you and there's no more second chances. It's straight to jail with you, no parole, no favours, no special treatment."

"Fine send me to jail."

"Here's his info. We'll drop you off at the temple." He pushed a card across to her, ignoring her obstinate words and the glare she was sending his way. Rising he left the room. Big and Burly who'd nabbed her earlier returned not long after and manhandled her to a speeder once more. Not long after, she was dumped unceremoniously on the Green Jedis front steps.

Making a rather rude gesture at the two officers, Nan looked grudgingly at the card she had in fact pocketed, and made her way into the Temple. Best to play along for a bit. Give it a week or two and their focus would waver. They had more to pay attention to than just her. With a scowl, she got directions and headed for the indicated room.

Finding it, she knocked on the door, waiting impatiently. This provoked no response, so she knocked again, harder. After a few minutes, and several rather inventive curses, Nan tried the door. Unlocked. With an internal shrug, she let herself in.

And very nearly let herself back out again.

It stank like a Limmie team had been hanging out her post game and hadn't been acquainted with a refresher in some time. And vomit. And an underlying smell of spilled alcohol. That was just the least offensive scent. Oh, and was that some spoiled food adding it's own scent to the disgusting choir? It would be just her luck if her 'parole officer' was in here dead and no one had noticed.

Looking over all the empty bottle and cans, it would likely be from liver failure.

"This's gotta be some kinda joke."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SkDx9lqw9I​
ff0vxJN.png

Julius was passed out, on what was once a bed and now half served as a dresser for clothes of a dubious nature of cleanliness. Thank the Force, he was still dressed at least, a holo-caster showing a bad old gangster drama stuck in a scene of the main character doing some substance of dubious legality. Somehow, the beer in his hand appeared un-opened, but given it lacked condensate who knew how old the thing was. Green robes had dark stains, light stains, and a few tears in them. Across his face was a wiry, unkempt beard that was several inches long where once it was close-cropped.

The knocking didn't wake or disturb him. The entry and speech didn't. All it elicited was him rolling over, muttering, and going back to sleep, tugging a blanket that looked like an old CorSec field cover up and over his shoulders, sending a few cans and a spare and mostly clean shirt to the floor. Whoever he was, or may have been, he had sincerely fallen from grace. Oh sure, his reports were still coming in fine and regular, if heavy on typos and misspellings. But he had neglected his training for days, and even the fancy arm from the Aing-Tii has a slight film of grime and disuse about it as it tugged up the cover.

Once, this was Julius Sedaire, Battlemaster, Green Jedi Councilor, and Judge of the Outer Rim. Now it was just a shaggy-haired, drunken old man with nothing much left. In fact the only thing not in shambles was a picture of Julius, surrounded by three kids using him as a jungle gym, with a dark-haired woman in the background smiling fondly at the group. Though clean cut, it was obvious who he was, and obvious he hadn't lost his arm yet. The picture was on a small end table with a beautifully crafted pair of lightsabers, a Jedi Credit, an antique chrono that radiated slightly in the Force and a signet ring with the symbol of the Rebellion on it. Several other pictures sat nearby, one of Julius at a long table, much younger. [member="Coren Starchaser"] and [member="Jorus Merrill"] were nearby, as were others like his 'brother' Stali, and more.

Once, he was someone. Now he just used to be.
 
Well, she thought as her eyes eventually fell on Julius, at least it didn't look like she'd be saddled with some zealous do-gooder who'd spend his time preaching at her and making her do charity work. Nan had about a negative tolerance for preaching. Do or shut up. And most charity work was downright useless. Ooo, I ladled soup. How much difference did that make in the long run? One night of soup. Besides, folks could ladle for their own damn selves.

With a sigh, she shoved a pile of who knew what off a chair and sat down, putting her feet up on the nearby table. At least if they really were tracking her movements right now, she was where she was meant to be. After a few minutes she rose, she carefully navigated the barely visible floor to a quite expensive looking and miraculously only half empty bottle and picked it up before going back to her seat. Settling in once again, she opened it and took a swig. Yep, way more expensive then she'd have bought for herself. At least the day wasn't a total waste.

She fully intended to just wait their a few hours and then leave. Let the old drunk pickle. After about one though, the smell started getting to her. Normally you acclimatised to scents. This one somehow seemed to just be getting worse and worse. Her roving eyes took in a seemingly unused garbage bin...

"T'hell with that." She muttered. She'd not signed up for this at all and she certainly hadn't signed up to clean some old sods apartment.

"Oi, oi you!" This failed to provoke any response other than a grunt, and a deeper burrowing into the bed. Scowl growing even deeper, Nan made her way to the side of the bed farthest from the drunk. Gripping the mattress she gave a heave "Getchoor arse up y'lazy old drunk! Ain't th'Jedi got maid's or somethin'?"

Possibly not the best thing to do to a Master of the Force, but Shinnan did not much care. He could stay as drunk as he liked, but she was not staying in this cesspit. If she had to pawn his belongings and call a cleaner to come deal with it, that was not off the table.

Neither was a flamethrower. Lord knew with the alcohol it would all go up quickly enough.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
As his world tipped, the drunkard of a Jedi reacted in a subconscious way that would be impossible if he thought about it. Skills he once did like breathing were atrophied beyond use mostly now. But he spun into the motion and direction of the flip, landing in a crouch with a crazed snarl, hand splayed and legs spread to keep balance. Eyes were wide and full of both surprise and fury, and he sprung up and at Nan with a further guttural sound and flung a whiskey bottle from the floor, a quarter full, at her face as he tackled her to the ground.

However, the motion seemed fitful, and once she was pinned he merely looked at her in confusion, a lost and helpless sort of directionally bereft stare, before he slumped on top of her with a loud snoring sound - passed out with a cold alien metal arm against her face, pinning her to the ground effectively.

[member="Shinnan Moreno"]
 
This may have been a terrible idea, Nan reflected, as she ducked a whiskey bottle thrown with considerable force directly at her face. Not that she thought that in so many words. It was more of an internal 'Oh kark' than anything so verbose. She succeeded in avoiding the bottle, and keeping her nose from being spread all over her face, but the next thing she saw was the entire man flying across the room at her. In fairness if she'd been hit by the bottle she'd probably have been too stunned to dodge either, so it was likely still best she'd ducked.

Nan was no shrinking violet, but the cold hard truth of it was that she shot people from a distance and then walked away wearing another face. She didn't brawl much. In a galaxy of wookiees and herglics, what was the point of one small woman trying to be a brawler when there was such a range of convenient tech to take care of any threat for you? Sure she'd scrapped when she was younger, and her gang had come up against rivals, but as an adult? Not really, and against a stone faced, wild haired, full grown male Jedi Master with a mechanical arm? That there was a losing fight, and honestly Nan was steeling herself for a beating. Wouldn't be the first time. So long as she survived it she'd count it a win. Hell, maybe if she got beat bad enough the bizzies'd just let her go. They were the ones who'd forced her here after all.

In short, she was trying to prepare herself and make the best of a situation that honestly had her spine wanting to curl in on itself in terror. No one likes being jumped and physically overpowered. No one like being reminded of their own weakness.

And then he had the gall to pass out on her. This was just adding insult to injury is what this was. If there was one thing Nan hated, it was being scared, and threat removed, if temporarily, all that fear immediately turned to the more familiar anger.

Her immediate attempt to escape from under him was halted by his sheer dead weight, as he snored away in the boneless sleep known only to smell children and drunkards.

"You- You bantha breathed barve! Hooched up Hutt slime! Get your geriatric arse off'f me, or I swear on my grandpappies bloodstripes I will bite your damn ears off!"

This got louder as it progressed until by the end it was about as thundering as Nan could manage. Well. She liked to think it was thundering. It was probably more of a screech really.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
Without much ceremony or notice, the shabby Jedi Master rolled over and up, head over his ears, muttering. A face still stony and impassive stared with slowly focusing eyes at the ceiling, and though there was no facial expression he gave the impression of being utterly displeased by the sonic assault on his ears. Taking a pinky he wiggled it back and forth in his ear and shook his head, smacking it a bit. When the noise didn't stop he stood, and grabbed a pillow, dropping it without ceremony over Nan's face and then ambling over to the shrine like table, looking at it as he reached into a take-out box from who knows when.

A sniff and he threw it over his shoulder and close to Nan's head, muttering. Then he stopped with a fried cheese stick halfway to his mouth and turned, eyeing the woman covered with a pillow. A voice naturally dead but also carrying as much emotion as his face came out croakingly from his throat. It split a few times in the short words it had, and he stood suddenly straighter, tense, hand straying towards a drawer behind him.

"The Nine Hells are you doing here? Who are you? I told the Guards I wasn't to be disturbed. My meditation may not be interrupted at the moment.. That damn [member="Coren Starchaser"] knows better than to send any sort of stripper-gram I hope..."

He finished with a mighty hiccup, stumbling with a half-sway and straightened with an air of unexpressed umbrage.

[member="Shinnan Moreno"]
 
The old sot at least removed himself, but then had the temerity to throw a pillow at her. For a moment Nan did not move, didn't even breathe. Every instinct was telling her to pull her blaster and shoot the old bastard. The problem was she did not in fact have a blaster on her. Which might have been for the best, but for the moment was causing a short in her brain. His words jolted her out of the loop.

She flung the pillow back at him, rising with a glare that would boil water. "There ain't enough credits in th'galaxy old man, and meditation my arse, picklin' yerself is more like, if y'don't just rot first."

Ah, that was it. That was why she hadn't been able to stand the smell. It was strong, but she'd been around worse. The problem was it reminded her of home. Of her mother. Of years spent cleaning up after the woman in the childish hope that if she just tried hard enough, if she was good enough, her mother would suddenly see what a good daughter she was and love her enough to come back and act like a mother. And then she'd grown up and realised that drunks don't give a damn about anything but they're next drink, and her mother had died of liver failure while she herself was locked away. Good riddance.

Was that it, was it all a cruel joke by the bizzies? Oh we're going to have you join the Green Jedi instead of serving time, go be a hero, paragon of Corellia! Just kidding, here's another drunk, we know where you came from and you'll never rise above it. She honestly hadn't thought they were that smart.

"Y'sure y'told the real guards and not the ones y'dreampt up? Because apparently you're supposed t'be my mentor, but quite frankly all I see is a big ol' don't do any o'this lesson."

It was damned tempting to walk out. But for all she knew there was still a speeder parked out front waiting for her.

[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
"Council knows I'm not taking students. On sabbatical from duties."

Muttering, something in his addled brain flicked on, and he turned with a sharpened eye. The expression was the same mask, but he suddenly seeme focused in his stance and body language. A moment of seriousness and perhaps almost sober thought. It was so quick as to almost not be there, but Nan would tell, could see that this was an acute switch and not a lifelong habit. The next words out were slower, less slurring, and there was a roll and twang of lower-class Coronet in it. Well educated, but still no high and mighty lordling where he was from.

"So they didn't send you, did they? CorSec, with their beaks. Goramn pecks, they know me better. But I owe them for bringing me here a few times rather than the clink."

Straightening, the Jedi walked over to a sink, casually brushing aside debris and turning the water on. A moment of watching the water flow and he suddenly stuck his face in the growingly full basin, waggling beard face around and exhaling. As his head emerged, he seemed barely improved, and turned to look at her as if to speak. Next to him, unearthed under the debris, was a comm unit blinking with dozens of missed functions. But the more pertinent issue was him raising his finger to speak and passing out flat on his face mid-word.

[member="Shinnan Moreno"]
 
So he knew something about being under CorSecs thumb too, about their so called favours. Almost she could have used this as something to relate to him, now that he was showing signs of sobriety. But it probably wouldn't last, and there was no use bonding with someone set on killing themselves. Use him to get her own freedom back, to get away from prying eyes and then run, hide, stay in the underground for awhile. That was what she would do. They wouldn't be friends. He was an ineffective jailer, nothing more.

His sudden nose dive only reinforced this, but sharp eyes had picked out the comm unit. She briefly considered giving him a kick as she crossed to take it for herself, but he might attack again and she'd just as rather not repeat that experience in the near future.

If she was going to be stuck with him, it would be good if he was at least half functional. Quarter functional even, but she had no intention of taking on his rehabilitation. Coren Starchaser would be ending him strippergrams hey? A brother then, or a friend. Either way it implied familiarity. She didn't bother listening to his messages. What did she care what people had to say to this broken old man? And oh what if there was a little voice asking, asking when was he coming home, was he bringing food, was he alright, did he know the power had been shut off?


Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge her thoughts memories she scrolled through his contacts. There. She selected Starchasers name. There was no immediate answer, and so she left a video message.

The camera focused on the passed out and obviously scruffy Julius and she coldly asked "Is this yours?" before panning around to take in the mess he was currently.. living was hardly the word. Denning maybe. Denning in. Then she clicked off the recorder. Starchaser would come or he wouldn't. Hopefully he wasn't on the other side of the galaxy. Hopefully he hadn't learned that it wasn't worth trying to save a drunk yet.

With another scowl, she went back to the chair she'd decided was hers and sat. She wasn't bothered by this and she wasn't going to clean up after him. She wasn't.

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]
 
Not the best thing to wake up to, a message to head to the Core. Hell, not a thing to wake up to when you just got to sleep and have been chasing it for days. Coren Starchaser was having dreams again. The New Jedi Order Temple in flames. Shipyards left as lifeless husks in orbit. His training ground ablaze. It was not a good omen. What was it? Who was that person at the center of it all?

All he knew was there was fire, and lightning. Dark, and light. He shook his head and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was aboard his freighter, the faithful YT-2000 “Tachyon Rising”. Was he docked on SUllust? Sure. But did it matter to him that he was sleeping on his ship’s bed? No. He was fine with that. It was home, after all. Everything he needed, between here and his fighter. Downsized, is what it was called.

“I’m up…” He muttered to his astromech who again reminded him he had a call. Shaking his head, the droid announced that there was a HoloVid. Great.

Coren slapped the console on the wall and the screen lit up ‘is this yours?’

“What are we going to do with you, Sedaire.” He did need the man alive, he had an emergency incoming and people he could trust were… slim.

“Yeah yeah, on the way.” He sent back before grabbing his trousers and heading to the bridge.

[member="Shinnan Moreno"]
[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
Blissfully unaware, the Battlemaster snored slightly as Coren was alerted and 'Nan showed her contempt in the summons to him. Memories vivid and unbidden flashed in an addled and troubled mind, and he muttered, cursing in his sleep, face still a stoic mask. Eyes were opened, staring bolt ahead and vacant, but the rapid breathing indicated some sort of panic. Old Corellian poured from his mouth in a barely recognized stream, and a signet ring emblazoned with the ancient starbird symbol of many a rebellion rose up under the banner of pulled at hair as he groaned and went limp.

In the Force, a well of despair and desperation poured out from him. A hollow, lost feeling of directionless pain.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] | [member="Shinnan Moreno"]
 
This surely had to count as cruel and unusual punishment. Didn't CorSec have laws about this? If she documented it maybe she could find some sort of advocater to fight fer her rights or something. She very nearly grinned at the thought of that. As if anyone well educated and connected enough to do any good would have anything to do with the likes of her. Besides, even if she might win such a case, it would bring far too much attention. No, the current plan was the best one. Wait it out. Slide off the radar again.

How long did she have to stay here anyway? Did they think she was going to take up residence at the Temple? Because feth that. She would literally rather sleep on the streets. Wouldn't be the first time. Probably cleaner too.

AND there would be no creepy old men with their eyes wide open muttering away and giving off waves of the heebie jeebies. That wasn't off-putting at all. It was like he was possessed or something. This was seven different different kinds of nope at least.

With a slight shiver she rose, skirting the prone and possibly diabolical form on the floor to approach the holo-caster, switching channels she found something extremely loud and distracting. It might even wake up creeper. One could only hope.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k85mRPqvMbE​

..this was much more annoying than she'd anticipated. At least annoyed was slightly better than creeped out? She supposed. Slightly.

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Coren Starchaser"]
 
The thing with Starchaser is it never took him long to find any one place in space. It was almost as if his ship sped up when it jumped into lightspeed. Not exactly though. He was just able to shave a few parsecs off his flights. Something he picked up along the way, being a space-based Jedi for most of his life, instinctively astrogating around was something he did. Plus the trip from Sullust to Corellia? That was something he had done countless times. His family had the estate here still, and he was basing in Sullust mostly nowadays.

Once he arrived on Corellia, he reached out to the Force. The Jedi Master knew a few tricks of the Force, and this was one of them. Finding a few people was simple for him. Julius, Jorus, a few others. But now he could feel the darkness, the desperation in his friend. He sighed and made his way through town.

The bar. Of course it was.

Stepping in, the smuggler-turned-Imperial-turned-Jedi looked around. A pistol on his hip, and his jacket hiding a lightsaber in a chest holster, he looked. There he was.

“What are we gonna do with you?” He muttered again, looking form Julius to the women. “You bring him here? Or just find him?”

[member="Shinnan Moreno"]
[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
"Found 'im passed out in his own rooms. Followed him here. I ain't gonna try 'nd stop him, bastard already turned me upside down once thanks. May not know his arse from a hat, but he still hits hard. You Starchaser then?"

She gave him a once over, hands on her hips. Bit scruffy, but you couldn't really trust people who weren't. Meant they had nothing better to do than preen. And if you were preening you were probably plotting, and you definitely weren't doing any real work, honest or otherwise. Armed, so not an idiot. Or at least not a complete idiot. And he didn't have the waxy bloated look Julius had from living off of alcohol. So she didn't immediately loathe him, just the usual mild antipathy she had towards everyone she didn't know.

"Also 'm pretty sure th'speeder he took half th'way here afore he crashed it was stolen. Just gotta say, ain't really sure exactly what CorSec reckons he's meant to be mentorin' me in."

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
How he had gotten here he wasn't really sure. Honestly where he was, beyond a bar, was pretty iffy. It was all an effort to get the newly acquired nagging woman out of his range. But she was stuck to him like a Rodian on a kebab, so he finally stopped here. Something told him they had good whiskey here, and the Green Devil on the sign intrigued him. So inside went he, and down on a bar stool he plopped, sipping a dark and bitter ale and trying to swear at the headache in his mind. So muddled were his senses he didn't notice Coren come in, and he took the necklace around his neck and snipped it off with a jerk of his hand, muttering darkly about broken promises.

What he was in this moment was a broken man who'd just put his trust to the wrong person. And given who he was, and how rarely he leaned on folks, that had broken him. Nearly. A small flicker of flame remained in him, but the chances of the ember becoming again were slight. Thankfully he had left his lightsabers at home, so he got up to lurch out the back door while the other two were talking, and shortly from there came a commotion and the bartender came out yelling at the other two to go get their friend before he hurt someone.

Apparently, drunken depression or no, mischief followed Julius still.

[member="Shinnan Moreno"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]
 
“Great.” Coren shook his head. The man had flown across the galaxy with Force visions keeping him awake to make sure Julius woke up the next morning. He was going to have to drag his friend back to the academy and throw him in the drunk tank. From there? A few hours with the battle masters may do well to keep the man realizing how much being hung over in the wrong places was not a good idea. He looked back at Julius. “Yeah, he does that. Just need to know how to hit him back. And yeah. That’s me.”

Didn’t need to introduce himself. She either knew him or didn’t. But right now? He couldn’t care to be the most talked-about Jedi in the room. Looking at the other Master he nodded. “When he’s sober, he’s a battle master. Or at least, he’s supposed to be. CorSec you then, or Jedi too?”

[member="Shinnan Moreno"]
[member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
Coren might have been interested to know that literally all Nan knew about him was that he was apparently the sort of guy who sent strippers to other people. She'd never paid much attention to the bigwigs, the folks with faces other people knew. They didn't factor into her life down in the gutter, and they sure as feth didn't care about her, so why should she care about them?

"Wonderful, I'm learnin' how t'duck.." she grumbled. And then Starchaser asked whether she was Jedi or CorSec, and she realised she'd said more than she meant to or out to. And the bartender summoned them to stop the old drunk from hurting other people which was a welcome distraction.

"Yeah, somethin' like that." Was her answer which wasn't an answer at all and certainly didn't bear more than a passing resemblance to the truth. "Best go grab him."

She moved towards the back exit Julius had taken. Battlemaster made her want to try and rein him in even less than she had before, but she also didn't much want to discuss who she was. This seemed the slightly safer option all things considered. Besides, hopefully Starchaser would follow and he could deal with Drunky and forget about her. That'd be just fine.

"Oh lord." She muttered, taking in the chaos before her as she stepped out into the alley.

[member="Coren Starchaser"] [member="Julius Sedaire"]
 
Chaos. Sheer Chaos. Julius had wandered outside for Force knows what reason. Several gangers figured he was an easy target by the stumble. At current he was quite easily trouncing half a dozen of them with a bit of durasteel plumbing pipe in his hands. Eyes still bleary from drink, his stance wasn't entirely what it should be, but there was a purpose to his movements now that was lacked earlier. He had tried talking to them until one pulled a blaster. That one was howling by a dumpster clutching a hand that was clearly broken.

"Nao geet. Nu hurt uhnliz ju makea moi."

Turning, he caught sight of Coren and broke into a grin, recognizing the man.

"Ey ju! Yous here!"

Taking a moment of opportunity, a ganger jumped at the Green Jedi with a bark and a wave of a vibro-mace, and promptly got a bit of pipe betwixt his legs with a flick of Julius wrist sending the pipe flying into the mans groin at short range, the impact bouncing it back to his hand without even glancing back. and promptly let out a mighty belch.

[member="Shinnan Moreno"] | [member="Coren Starchaser"]
 
Meeting fans was always nice, but meeting people who didn’t give a damn who he was? Well, that was a good thing. Meant he could just be Coren, no need to be Jedi Master, or General Starchaser. Just Coren. A man who would travel halfway across a galaxy to kick his drunk friend and wake him up. Still, got him off Sullust and doing something else. Anything else.

“Best.” He nodded as he stepped out into the alley. He checked his Power Nine, set it for stun, not that he’d need it, but, well, it’d be safer than some Julius-inspired TK craziness. Drunks were so cute.

“You good, Sedaire?” He laughed. “They aren’t.” Coren looked past his friend’s shoulder and nodded. “One, two down.” And he was drunk. They were in for it. “How about we get you a cab, and back to the Compound, yeah?”

[member="Julius Sedaire"]
[member="Shinnan Moreno"]
 

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