Private Blood and Wine

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve had many names. Many identities. She tried them on like costumes, switching between one mask to the next, discarding one in favor of another. Many times she passed as a faceless civilian, or a highborn girl of royal standing, or a financier with accounts across the Rim. Some days she was Isabel Lucia, the heiress of a shipping empire. Other days, she was Kava, a lost tourist needing directions. Sometimes, on most occasions, she was just Maeve Linahan, Jedi Knight and Shadow.

Today, she was wearing the costume of Tala, the financier.

It had been a while since she’d gone undercover outside the Core Worlds. She’d become used to remaining as Maeve, as a Jedi, tasked with exploring hollow temples or arresting Coruscant spice dealers, but today, she had embarked upon another mission: freeing slaves. At least, so she believed.

Rumors from the planet Fhost had been circulating in the last week, whispers that secret slave auctions were being held at an upscale vineyard, where wealthy noblemen would come under the pretense of tasting wine before departing with more handmaidens than what they’d arrived with.

The Dusk Orchard, it was called. A winery with acres worth of sweet plum trees, blooming gardens and vineyards of the highest quality. It was the home of Count Greyze, a wine connoisseur and popular lobbyist among some senators in the Galactic Alliance, and while his connections might’ve seemed innocent on the surface, Maeve sensed something else about him. She could feel it in the courtyard just outside his manor, where several other guests lingered. It was like a dark cloud hung about them. Like bodies were buried under her feet.

Perhaps this tour, this auction, was just gossip. Perhaps she was wrong to have come. But she had sworn an oath to eradicate the trafficking of slaves and indentures wherever it could be found. Didn’t matter if the Council sanctioned the mission or not—she was going to find the root of whatever was going on at this orchard and rip it from the earth.

Maeve cast a wary look over to the other guests. There were a handful of human men and women among them, as well as a tattooed Trandoshan and a Cathar that seemed to tower above them all. It was a strange motley of guests, and not the kind she might’ve expected from a tour that supposedly involved wine-tasting and an auction over ‘rare vintage.’ To say she was suspicious would be an understatement. But if she wanted to get the bottom of this, then she would have to play along.

Darth Tormenta​

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[Darth Tormenta]

Commonly, Khamesi would prefer to just surround and burn places like this. Freeing the slaves was important in her own little crusade of course, but she could typically deploy her small, growing fleet to surround and trap the slavers. Fhost however was far afield of her usual haunt, literally the opposite end of the Galaxy through several powers hostile to her as Sith and Pirate alike. Here the Ash Dragons weren't yet a common name, they weren't anywhere yet to be fair, but far less common here than the 'southern' end of the galaxy. What few informants she had this far afield were mostly hands on shipping lanes, the rumors that got to her ears were little to work with. Was not their fault, they gave her what they could, they were paid for what they brought, moreso if she could make use of it. The Togruta that brought her this little nugget had found her and her family a nice little penthouse on Jutrand, and jobs with Fojanah Heavy Productions. Far from a luxurious life, but relatively safe and secure, as long as they didn't prove to be ill investments.

No this far from home and the nearest half friendly, for the tight price, port, Khamesi had to be much more careful. She could not easily bring a couple thousand pirates and war droids this far through so much hostile territory without drawing attention. Instead she had settled for just her capital ship, her troops staying aboard and acting only as guards. Appearances must be kept after all. With her she had brought only two, the best of the best fighters among all her crew. They did not look it of course, her 'Cleaners', as she had yet to choose a better name for them, dressed as servants not warriors. To her left was yellow Zabrak in a fine suit, and her right a short Lepi wearing a maids dress. Where better to hide your guards and greatest killers than as servants serving you tea and wine? They likely would not see much action here, to many ways for their identities to leak, Khamesi herself was clothed in a fine black and yellow dress.

She did not like fancy clothes much, but once again, appearances were needed. She had even managed to smuggle her lightsaber with her, hiding in the many folds of the dress. One of her size did not blend easily, and she was no master at creating force masks, so all she had done was reduce the yellow in her eyes from the burning Sith color, to the natural golden-yellow she had been born with, and masked the dark side taint that normally flowed forth from her. She doubted there'd be any jedi in a place like this, but a mawite might be lurking, and there was always the chance of a...chance encounter with a Jedi or Ashlan cultist. Best they did not realize right away she was a Sith, buy her a bit more time to retreat or launch an offensive as the situation demanded.

Now the wine, that was something she quite enjoyed. If this tip had turned out to be wrong, and it really was just falsely suspicious wine of a fine vintage, well at least she'd have a treat. Her informant would have failed, but from what she had uncovered herself, she could not blame them. Being here it was obvious what was actually going on, she may despise the Hutts, but many of her best contacts were seeded in their space, they had their grubby mitts in everything. She'd found what she needed, gotten herself invited. She'd even brought untraceable creds with her just to throw suspicion off herself. For now she resigned herself to letting these scum breathe for some time yet, while she figured out where the slaves were kept, how they were controlled, and her targets gathered themselves neatly for her to dispose of. Given the kinds of slaves traded here, she doubted she'd find any new soldiers or crew to take home with her, but a few of them may allow themselves to be set up as new informants, seeding new eyes and ears across the galaxy was never a fruitless endeavor. Her eyes scanned the gathered faces, burning them all into her memory, someone here was not as they seemed. She could feel the watchful eyes, but she knew not from where. It could be a shadow, or assassin, or it could one of their guards was sharper than the others. Might be useful once he or she was found if that was the case, most of her informants were seeded in the underground. In cantinas and black markets. Getting some eyes in the aristocratic world was something she was still struggling with, though some solutions had been drawn up.

For now she kept her hands clasped, hidden by her sleeves so that the many gathered here could not see them clenching in anger. Many already gave her a wide berth, she was massive and a Cathar, she stood out even if she had everything to say she should be here. Few Cathar fell into shady practices, and few of her size remained...inconspicuous for long. In this case, it meant they feared her. If they did not know her name that meant she had covered her tracks, if they had not heard of one like her it was because she was careful. This wasn't entirely correct, it was mostly because her activities were not yet in the public eye, but to find her way here, surely she had connections, yes? It was good for the other guests to be wary, whatever they thought she was, they would never guess her to be a Sith, nor one here to cleanse this place in fire and ash.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

"Ladies, gentlemen. Welcome to the Dusk Orchard!"

Maeve's head spun to the unexpected voice from across the courtyard. She had been so preoccupied with observing the other guests, she hadn't noticed the older man descending the staircase outside the manor doors, backed by two guards and a smile so bright it was practically blinding. She straightened. At first glance, she knew who it was that'd come to greet them. Count Gryze. She had studied his profile enough she could recognize the hook of his nose from a mile out, though he seemed taller in person, with an air about him that put her immediately on edge.

Like most politicians, this was not a man that could be trusted.

"It is an absolute delight to host you today, my friends. I pray your travels have not been too difficult?" Gryze clasped his hands together, rosy-cheeked, his face brimming with warmth. In response, several guests nodded. "Well, I am grateful to hear it. I understand many of you have taken great lengths to visit us this evening, but whatever reservations you might have, put them aside. I guarantee tonight's proceedings will not disappoint."

He waved a hand, beckoning them to join him inside. "Come. We have a wonderful selection of wine ready for you, and plenty of vintages to choose from."

Both doors into the manor parted open. As Maeve stood towards the back of the courtyard, she was one of the last to enter, her mind running with possibilities of what might lie within.

Count Gryze's manor enfolded her like a sea of gold, silver and mirror-glass. Rich was not quite the word she'd describe it as. Extravagant, more like. Excessive. Maeve saw fur carpets, silk tapestries, glittering chandeliers and enough paintings to fill a Coruscant museum. One had to wonder just where all this wealth might've come from, but Maeve could easily take a guess.

Gryze snapped a finger and several maidservants stepped from behind a curtain, each carrying a tray of wine glasses, the liquid inside them darker than blood. "Please, while we wait for the auction, feel free to help yourself with some of our rare Alderaanian wine, aged in clay and stored just before the planet's destruction at the hands of the Empire." That elicited some excited gasps from a few guests, although Maeve seriously doubted it was the truth. "The auction will begin shortly. In the meantime, mingle! You may be bidding against each other soon, but we are all friends here."

As the maidservants disseminated among the guests, Maeve plucked a glass for herself and eyed the drink inside. She never drank, not even for special occasions, but she had a part to play. She could at least pretend to enjoy the reception. The real problem was finding someone to talk to.

Darth Tormenta​

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[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi hid the sneer she so desperately wanted to let out at the sight of the manor's interior. While she could appreciate luxuries and finery in moderation, not only was this excess to such a point that a sycophant on Coruscant would balk at, it was funded by one of the only trades that Khamesi could not stand. Drugs, booze, weapons, stolen goods. All this she had or was willing to trade in, but people were never on that list. She glanced down at the wine glass in her hand before finally taking a sip. It was strong, certainly a fine wine, but nearly a millenia old from Alderaan? She highly doubted it. More than likely it was from New Alderaan, brewed in their style, then backdated or forgotten till some person with more money than sense went looking for rarities.

If it was truly from Alderaan, it would not be served like this to so many, it'd be worth a small fortune on it's own, and be a centerpiece greater than any prize they could have here, except maybe a Padawan or Acolyte. She finished the glass and almost reach for another before the Zabrak that remained to her left touched her arm.


"Mistress."

"Yes yes Rasru, it's not so strong one or two glasses will dull me, but I should abstain for the time being."

She whispered the next part to herself as she placed the empty glass to the side.

"I do hope it survives the purge."

Silk she could understand as she looked around. It was tough and comfortable, practical and extravagant. The furs lost their value if you had not killed the beast yourself, and she doubted their owner had hunted anything himself...ever. Gold and silver were finery was best used only to show off, it was clear this place was decorated as such year round. A waste of money and resources, nearly as disgusting as the transactions that took place here. While she had masked her presence in the force, and the dark side that clung to her like an old friend, she could not mask the anger, even if her face did not show it. Her left hand idly touched the spot on her chest below her collarbone where she still bore the blaster scars she got when she had lost everything.

She rid herself of most of her scars, but this one and a select few others were of...importance. Remembering them, and the anger they inspired is what gave her the power she used to start clawing her way up in Sith politics. She was still just a minor player, but someday they would mark these early days as her 'rise to power' as many biographies so loved to put it.

"All goes well Rasru, you and Latte will be able to rest earlier than expected."

She kept her meaning vague, but both Rasru and Latte knew what she meant. The defenses around here were clearly designed with typical law enforcement. Security appeared more lax than anything of such goods should be, though looks could be deceiving so it was best to be prepared for any tricks. Latte straightened part of Khamesi's dress as she herself spoke.

"Careful Mistress, there are still many unknowns."

"Yes Latte I know, hence if all goes well, not a guarantee."

"Of course Mistress. Still, I shall reschedule your meeting tomorrow for two days from now, as you say. If things go well, there will be much to sort out."

"True Latte...very well, reschedule. I could do with some quiet time anyway."

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Finding someone to talk to, surprisingly, was a lot easier than she'd thought.

As Maeve observed the guests, from the Trandoshan exchanging hunting tips with a human nobleman, to the Cathar consulting with her entourage, she was surprised again by the voice and presence of Count Greyze, standing suddenly beside her like a phantom ghost. The silver pendant around his collar, studded with rubies and sapphires, gleamed in the artificial light.

"Good evening," he said, eyes bright with interest. "If I may be so bold, miss, you look positively stunning. Enough that I know for certain we haven't met before. Is this your first time visiting the Dusk Orchard?" He grinned, and she could smell the peppermint and wine on his breath, mixed with whatever horrendous cologne he'd chosen to wear. "I am Solan Greyze, by the way. At your service."

He bent his head in what might've passed as a bow, and Maeve, not wanting to seem uncharacteristic, did the same. "I know who you are, Count Greyze, and it is a pleasure," she said, the lie flowing from her lips like the wine in his cup. "I am Tala, Tala Chastain." She let the false name hang in the air for a moment, then forced a smile. "I believe it is my first time here, but I am already quite familiar with the business."

Greyze cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, are you? I'm relieved to hear it. I was afraid you might find the vintages we have to offer rather… different from what you're used to." A small shiver ran through her as he lifted his wine glass and drank. Vague as he was, only a fool would not be able to pick up the slight change of tone in his voice, or the implications he was making. Standing so close to him, Maeve just wanted to tear out her lightsaber and gut him right there, but she had to wait.

First, confirmation. Once that was made, then she could find her opening to strike.

"Whatever it is you're offering," she said, "I can afford." Maeve raised her own wine glass, to which Gryze toasted bemusedly.

"Delightful. I promise you will find what we have quite to your liking." The count's grin widened, baring teeth. She thought he might continue on, perhaps start flirting, but one of his guards sidled up to him, leaning over his shoulder to whisper into his ear. While an ordinary human might've missed what they were saying, Maeve's enhanced hearing caught enough to understand.

The auction is ready.

Count Gryze's head perked. "Lovely," he told the guard, then faced the other guests, Maeve included. His voice rose to match the noise of their conversations. "Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for your patience. The auction room should be all prepared for us, so please, if you would follow me, we may begin tonight's proceedings with haste." The man beckoned them away from the parlor, through a set of heavy chiffon curtains separating them from tonight's main attraction.

Darth Tormenta​

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[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi grimaced at the announcement that the auction was ready. She bent down to whisper into Rasru's ear.

"Are the shuttles ready?"

"Yes Mistress, they may depart for us at your leisure."

She turned and whispered to Latte next.

"And accommodations?"

"Prepared for expected numbers, if needed we can have some double or triple up till we can transfer them to other arrangements."

Khamesi straightened, brushed off the dress she was wearing, and moved to follow the rest of the crowd. As she did she noted where all the guards were, relative to the exits. Some time soon many of them would be dead, or wishing they were dead. This ridiculous but necessary charade would be over relatively shortly. Being this far out of the way of her normal haunt had her...paranoid, and cautious. To many unknowns and hostiles nearby for her comfort, but shutting down a slave auction for oligarchs and aristocrats? That'd attract attention, both of the kind she wanted and wanted to avoid. The bigger thing was hitting some of the richer people. To date most of the slaves she'd been freeing were for hard labor,

That was changing of course, the Hutts traded in everything, but she was not dealing with Hutts today. She was dealing with traitors to the old Sith Regime, and the rich that thought they were above repercussions. Soon, yes very soon, they'd taste fury and blood from her. Then they'd see, for the first time in their wretched, bloated lives, that actions had consequences. The debt was coming do, and from someone with absolutely no sympathy for them or their money.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Gasps and whispers followed Maeve into the exhibition chamber. It was a vast room, full of warm light and centuries-old antiques. There were lush red carpets, gold trim baseboards, tapestries from the Mandalorian Crusades and relics from the High Republic. A hearth burned low ahead, gilding the heads of wolves, bantha and mynocks, their plaques crowding the walls. The ceiling was domed, glass, offering a glimpse outside.

Some people might've felt like they'd wandered into a dream.

For Maeve, it was a nightmare.

In the room center's, there was a glass display. A cage, with just barely enough room for someone to fit. She knew what it was, what it could be, and it made her gut twist into a knot. Again, she brushed her hand over where she'd hidden her lightsaber. She was going to need it.

As she surveyed the rest of the auction chamber, she noticed the extra guards posted about—droids from the Imperial era, armored and almost twice her height. She counted at least six of them, not including the other human guards alongside Count Gryze and those scattered around the winery. It was more than she had hoped. Maeve had originally planned to take them on herself, but it felt like every minute that passed, her odds seemed to dwindle.

She was a Jedi Knight, sure, but she was alone.

"Please, everyone, take your seats. Get comfortable!" Gryze said, gesturing to the cushioned chairs and lounges checkered around the room. "We shall begin with our first vintage for the night—a delicious rosé, sparkling, made and imported directly from Naboo." The count made an airy gesture and the platform inside the glass display opened, revealing a hatch and lift.

Maeve's breath caught before she could even sit.

A young woman was lifted into the display. Hair brown like teak wood, skin bone-white. She wore a dress that seemed like a comical stereotype of what a Naboo lady might wear, and the girl looked shaky and afraid, her eyes darting around the room in a panic.

"Let's start the bidding at a thousand credits. Any takers?"

Darth Tormenta​

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[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi had had enough of this. With the visual confirmation of the first slave, two of her most trusted at her side, literally only one step below her in the command structure of her Ash Dragons, and her power, this was all she needed to see. She counted more guards than expected, but she was a warrior at heart. Any challenge was welcome, and with support not to far off, even if this all proved troublesome, she would not be abandoned. She dropped her mask entirely as the count asked for the first bid, a wave of cold, suffocating dark side energy poured off her. Amplified enough so that even these fools around her could feel the cold presence of anger, and hatred made form. The lights in the room seemed to dim as she gathered her strength, the force flowing into her body and reinforcing her muscles. Her speed, her strength, and most importantly, the ability to resist blasters or negate them entirely if they were of a weaker fare, shrouded her form.

While she was not usually one for such things as the dress she was wearing, some part of her actually liked it, it was almost saddening to see it destroyed as she raised her arm, ripping it free and revealing the more simple form fitting clothes she wore beneath. Light, flexible, and easy to move in. No armor to alert anyone, not odd shapes, at least, not except for the hilt of the saberstaff that had found it's way to her hand. Someone smaller than her might have had trouble concealing the doublebladed hilt, her size gave her that advantage.

Rasru and Latte, conspicuously, were nowhere to be seen as her lightsaber, only one blade for the moment, snapped to life. A wicked grin came across her face, she could practically taste the death that was about to befall the hapless fools gathered here.

"Ladies, gentlemen, parasites, and droids. I'm afraid we haven't been properly introduced. Normally my name would not matter, most of you will not live long enough for it's memory to be anything but fresh. I am Captain Aivar of the Ash Dragons, and this auction is now closed. All bids are final, you can hand over your pathetic, mewling, parasitic lives as payment for the chains you have lashed onto so many. Don't try running, I can promise that anyone that tries to flee will die a slow death. At least try to put up a fight and your final moments will at least be swift."

As soon as the last word, booming from a device attached to her throat amplifying it so she could be heard by all in the room, there was a soft sound before one of the guards dropped, a hole appearing where his throat had once been. Only his soft gargle could be heard for a moment, before his body thudded to the floor as the wound from the silenced weapon caught up to him. It was here that Khamesi began to move, accelerating towards one of the droids, intending to bisect before the barrage of blaster fire and panicked guests truly began.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Maeve had been reaching for her lightsaber when she felt it. A darkness, washing over her like a wave of heat from a fire. Hatred. Disgust. The sensation was one she found all too familiar, and she knew instantly from whom it belonged: Sith.

Maeve's head spun so fast it nearly flew off her shoulders. She rose to her feet. Just in time, she saw the snap and hiss of a blade coming to life, bathing the patrons ahead in warm light. The Cathar woman. She'd been suspicious of her when they first arrived, intimidated even, given her height and bodyguards, but she would have never thought they were a practitioner of the Dark Side. The Cathar were known historically to align with the Light, with justice. Not with… pirates?

She'd heard of the Ash Dragons. They were a significant pirate force in the Rim, raiding trade convoys and freeing slaves. She just never would have thought they were backed by a Sith.

It didn't matter. Maeve came to end a trafficking ring, and while typically she'd have lunged at the Sith and engaged in a vicious duel by now, she couldn't risk derailing the mission—the whole reason she'd come to the winery in the first place. There were other factors to consider. Dozens of guards, for one. Count Gryze escaping, for another.

Maeve opened her hand. The lightsaber hilt she'd kept hidden in her dress sailed out, flying into her palm, which she clutched in a tight fist. Pale, blue light followed.

The act drew a renewed round of gasps. Before anyone could question where she stood on the battle, though, Maeve struck out at the closest droid guard. The blade cut clean through their circuitboard, leaving a trail of smoke and molten steel in its chest.

Her next target? Count Gryze.

She turned to where the slaver was, situated on the other side of the room and cowering behind a contingent of guards. A wild look of confusion and shock had stolen across his face. The man clearly hadn't expected to be met by both Sith and Jedi in one night, but to his credit, he reacted quickly, his bewilderment replaced with panic and, eventually, direction.

"Kill the Sith!" he ordered. "Kill the Jedi! Kill them all!"

Darth Tormenta​

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[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi studied the Jedi even as she moved to her next target. She couldn't be entirely surprised that a Jedi was here. This was much closer to Jedi space than it was Sith Order space after all. Still, what were the odds both a Sith and a Jedi had snuck into this? Not good, which meant the force had had some influence for whatever reason. The distaste of it all filled Khamesi's mouth as she moved to cut down another one of the guards. Any guest that was in her way found themselves flung aside or cut down themselves, she had no pity for the fools partaking in this, but her priority were the many armed guards.

She kept herself well clear of the Jedi, keeping the crowd between them. She didn't know fully what the Jedi's intentions here were, other than dismantling this ring to. No Jedi that was truly a Jedi would let a ring like this exist willingly. But would the Sith present a more tempting target? Khamesi couldn't say. The Jedi certainly was tempting, but there was a personal vendetta wrapped up in all of this that trumped Sith doctrine for Khamesi. The Jedi would be left alone, for now, so long as she left Khamesi herself alone. Eventually they'd be forced to confront one another, but a target rich environment created other priorities.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Blaster bolts started flying everywhere. This was true chaos, now. Gryze’s guards didn’t even bother trying to distinguish her and the Cathar Sith from the other guests, some of whom were caught directly in the crossfire, holes blown through their chests.

Maeve should’ve minded the deaths of civilians, but this was not innocent blood being spilled, here. These people were monsters, men and women who preyed on the helpless and made them slaves. They had come to the winery to bid on captives, and she had no sympathy for them. Some might’ve thought that unlike a Jedi.

But Maeve didn’t care.

Carving her lightsaber through another droid guard, she cut a path directly to Count Gryze. The man was being escorted out of the room through a private door, and she knew that if she let him escape the premises, she would never find him again.

She fought harder. Faster. She lopped the head off a fourth droid, letting it sail across the auction room. Forget the Sith. Forget the pirates and the rest of the battle. Instead, Maeve moved straight through the side door Gryze had gone through, leaving behind the chaos in favor of a shot at the slaver. To dispense justice, and to exact retribution.

Darth Tormenta​

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[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi wsn't about to let the orchistrator of this escape, so she decided to stop playing games. Sheer, smothering cold flowed off of her, quickly revealing itself to be more than her mere prescene as guards and people alike found their feet then legs and more becoming frozen. Khamesi strolled past the people that were in the process of being turned into popsicles, and after the Jedi and count. She cut down the last droid in her path as merely freezing it wouldn't take it out of the fight for long, and kicked the door down, splinters of whatever it had been made of lying away from the viscious blow.

She dimished the aura of cold surrounding her, but even her own breath could still be seen. With it, she stalked through the halls, a preadator searching for it's prey. For once, it asn't the Jedi being hunted, and even if she encountered the Jedi, the Jedi would be ignored in favor of the personal vendetta. A personal vendetta was always more important than Khamesi, after all, it was one of the very reasons she had willingly chosen the path of the Sith. Granted, if the Jedi had found her first the story might be different, but they'd never bothered. She didn't even know if they'd ever even investigated the destruction of her home and it's residents.

Maeve Linahan

 

[Maeve Linahan]

Count Gryze fled like the coward he was. Escaping into a circular courtyard with his guards, an already prepared shuttle waited for him to depart. Despite the descending pirates, turrets fixed about the winery continued to fend them off, leaving a tiny opening for the slaver to cut his losses and leave.

But Maeve was not about to let that happen. Not even with a Sith present.

As much as she reviled the Dark Side and all its practitioners, her disgust towards slavery and those wicked enough to participate in the trade ran deep. Having been a captive herself, stolen from her home and experimented upon like cattle, she couldn't stand men who would do the same to other little girls. She could not forgive monsters like Gryze.

The Dark Side could corrupt even the best, but men like him were corrupt on their own.

"Stop!" she called from across the courtyard, just short of Gryze boarding his ship. The slaver hardly even turned to face her, and instead his guards spun around with their blasters raised in her direction. Maeve lifted her lightsaber instinctively. "In the name of the Galactic Alliance, you will lay down your arms, and I will make you."

Darth Tormenta​

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[Darth Tormenta]

Khamesi wasn't far behind the Jedi, after all, the Count could not not be allowed to escape here alive. If he did, he would be far more wary in the future, after all he was infiltrated by both Jedi and Sith. She cut the flow of power to the chilled air that surrounded her, and lifted her hand, using the force to life the count from his feet, choking him, but leaving him alive for now. The red glow of her saber ilumminated her even as her pirates strafing runs got ever closer to giving them a clear landing.

"Your choice worms, listen to the Jedi or deal with me."

The threat was clear. Khamesi herself didn't particularly care about any of these people surviving, cutting them down here was plenty of justice for her tastes, but the Jedi would prove problematic if provked, though Khamesi did have the advantadge of her forces close at hand. She smiled sadistically, savoring the slow gasps of the Count, her saber ready if hey opened fire.

Maeve Linahan