Come Last Call...

[Julius Sedaire]

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Location: Green Devil Pub - Coronet City​

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Spoiler

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Yg8MuaWMT0​

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Corellia was free. It had been months since, but it was free. Julius had taken and set up his version of a Shadow Government. A council with a President ran the surface, the CorSec folks were being reformed, and everything was coming together. People seemed to work twice as hard at healing up Corellia with [member="Danger Arceneau"] and ATC. And the heroes of the hour, the brave men and women who led the charge? They were gone, narry a one to be heard from.

The Corellian League had vanished. Some say disbanded. Some say dead to a man in the conflict. Officially they were heroes of the state, and every member who'd seen combat against the occupying forces were classed to wear at least the lower variety of blood stripes. Unofficially? They had crept to the underground and black markets to root out the Sith. And unofficially, those places knew they were the true power on the planet, and the real authority of the world.

If Julius weren't five cups in, he could probably walk up to the Presidents manor and take control with hardly a blink. Nine Hells, there was no probably. He had been given an honorary rank of General and was one of the few of the League not listed officially as dead, but just missing. All of them were being hidden, shifted, assuming their key roles or being given what they needed to move on. Corellians never forgot those they owed.

But now? The time was come to say goodbye. To celebrate, and to see off those who would be going on with their lives. Julius was going to try his hand at being a proper Jedi. Maybe even find a woman for more than a few nights. But one last time he had donned his long brown coat, tousled brown tunic open deep at the neck, and a set of bloodstripe leggings tucked into battered old brown boots. The stripes this time were shiny metallic thread of bloodsteel, and were looked at in awe by some others as he sat on his chair, tilting back with his feet up on the table edge.

Drinks flowed like water, and weapons were voluntarily left at the door courtesy of suggestion by a 10 foot tall wookie in beskar, Julius former campaign ally for [member="Jack Sparrow"]'s run as Supreme Chancellor, a mandalorian trained wookie Force User named @Shywooshk. Really Julius didn't know why the bruiser was so eager to take his employ, but his very presence tended to make people sit up and listen. And stop foolishness before it ever really started.

For now though, Absinthe Aing-Tii, Corellian ales, and Whyren's and Rywen's, the two rival distilleries, were all consumed, and Julius watched the spirits of his people soar and flame in high hopes and joy for the first time in ages. A smile was on his face as he awaited some of those what were his invited guests. Gifts were for some, and though he doubted Danger would show, she even had one on the table. And he had even invited those lovely, plucky Mandalorians along since they had trounced the Sith right alongside them.

 

[Keira Priest]

Lately Keira felt as if she was spending an unnatural amount of time with matters that concerned Corellia. First it had been taking back the planet from the Sith, and not long thereafter matters concerning her family had risen up from the depths of her past, forcing her to face things she would have much rather forgotten in the nineteen years since she had truly called that world home. And now she was back again, this time after having helped free the planet from a dominion it had been held under for far too long. Of course, she likely wouldn't have returned without a reason, and [member="Julius Sedaire"] had given her one, inviting her back so that the two might trade words yet again. Inevitably it would turn to a verbal spar, but among people like them, such a thing was prized.

There had been less and less reason for her to don the weight of the phrik plate as time passed, and that had lent her a certain weightlessness as she went about her daily life. It made her feel like she was finally leaving everything behind, that she was on her way to having some kind of way out of all the war and fighting once and for all. That was what she had wanted for some time now, but being appointed as Warmarshal of the Crusaders had changed that. And now that things had grown quiet she had been asked back home by an old friend, and so of course she had went, wanting nothing more than a chance to sit in good company and simply talk for what was the first time in a long, long time.

The bar reminded her far too much of their first meeting, when a carefully mixed drink had substituted for any kind of proper introduction, and they had ended the encounter with a scuffle and an invitation to his residence on Socorro. It was funny how times changed. Once again she was back in another bar, this time after having fought alongside the same man that gave her that scarring across her knee. There was a lack of a glass sent her way, and that same teasing, lilting atmosphere had been replaced with a certainty as to what had to be done on both sides. This was a turning point in their little corner of the galaxy, and as always she was right at the epicenter, that never seeming to change.

It was impossible for her to manage an entirely casual gait through what had happened over the years, but for his sake she tried. Even still that limp in her left leg persisted, her jaw taut not from any pain the old wound caused but simply because she knew that display of age and weakness would trouble him just as much as it did her. For once in her life she willingly gave up her weaponry so as to maintain peace, though such a thing only put her more on edge around strangers. Her paranoia hadn't waned over the years in the least, and it was the little things that only exacerbated this.

There was no pause to get a drink or exchange greetings with anyone as she crossed the threshold into the establishment, and with a sort of permanent exhaustion that always clung to old soldiers she sat down across from Julius, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table. For a few moments she simply studied him, her expression impossible to read but not holding within itself any kind of scrutiny or uncertainty. This was simply her relearning a face she hadn't seen in what felt like years. Finally she managed to crack a smile, leaning back with her arms folded across her chest, "Well, it's about damn time, princess."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

There was a kid in the corner, nursing a bottle of lum. He'd taken some flak for maybe not being old enough to drink, and for looking like he wore his daddy's bloodstripes. They were tough old things, those clothes he wore. The lower-grade bloodstripe had faded, threads ripped and mended and ripped again over the course of...feth, maybe fifteen years now. Heck, the pants might have been as old as he was.

Sometimes he thought about telling more folks who he was. Sedaire would know; Jorus had never really had a knack for keeping his Force signature quiet, let alone Quey'tek or any of that. Underground Central Command knew. Bantam knew. Not many others. Way off in the Kathol, deep in Wild Space, he and his wife had found themselves rejuvenated by means he didn't fully understand. By agencies whose audacity and cleverness he couldn't quite match.

There'd been an element of choice involved, though. Alna had been getting old, and both of them had faced health problems for years. It wasn't the kind of choice a Jedi would have made, even if he'd spent seven years as the Master of First Knowledge. Perhaps embarrassment, or at least unwillingness to discuss the ways and means of his rejuvenation, lay behind his silence.

Didn't help that the girl across from him wasn't his wife. Looked older than him now, by maybe five years. Had bright shiny new Bloodstripes of her own, first class like his. Apparently she'd helped board and take down a Dark Blade dreadnought, helped cripple the Sith presence in the Corellian system. She was one of the few that knew who he was, and didn't much like the ways and means, no matter that her own Master had been involved.

"You want another lum, Dad?" she said quietly, and went off to the bar before he could answer.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

As Keira sat, he let her, his mind lost for a moment in revere. There was a presence he had not felt since he had held the Skywalker lightsaber. A presence that, in his mind, was almost a legend in it's own right. The tales of @Jorurs Merrill were steadily becoming the same sort of tales that were told of Han Solo and Lando Calrissian, in some sectors. He embodied, to Julius, the fire and swagger of their people, but with the wanderlust and steel cajones that were needed to balance the rocket fuel in all their blood. Slowly, Julius was coming to that balance of beginning. If not in the same proportion. Already he felt slightly odd outside of his jedi robes. During the construction of the Green Sky temple, he had fairly lived in them.

The face he saw was as if Jorus had a young son running around. Which was possible, but unlikely. Jorus didn't strike him as the type anymore. And with all the hijinks the Navigator got up to, he hardly supposed it was a surprise if he cut his age in half or more. That man could sail through a Force Storm and come out without a scratch and most wouldn't look too close. The unexpected was expected with Jorus. And so, he stood up, and walked silently over to the table. It was rude to Keira, but she would understand in a moment, and his regretful look explained it as he did so. This needed to be done by him, and not by a runner.

Reaching, he slid one of the soul diamond studded corellian jedi credits from his pocket over to the youthful looking Commander of the Outback, and nodded. There was a brief moment of silence, of contemplation, and then a grin of a cat stroking its' whiskers. Julius knew, and Jorus and Mara knew that he knew now. The coin would have a slight alteration. It would let him see Corellia always, and for one with Jorus' gifts and talents, he could probably use it to find the Temple here that much quicker. If the truth were told, he needed people like Jorus, even if on a very casual and rare basis, and so he waited a moment before he spoke.

"Come visit sometime, kid... You might be of use there if you can still fly. And you'd love what i've done with the Astronautical Academy, or will be. You and Cal will be drooling. Mara... Good to see you again..."

The greeting to Mara hesitated for a moment before he smiled faintly and strode back to the table without anything else. Jorus had earned his own stripes, and fancy pants were not needed for the man. But no matter how he viewed himself, or what he did, at the core was always a flicker of Light and the heart of a Jedi, even if he wandered. That deserved the jed-cred, and the invite. And so he spun his former chair around and sat with the back facing the table, and grabbed a corked bottle of Reserve, from which Whyren or Rywen he didn't look. Biting the cork he poured two heavy-handed shots and nudged one over to Keira, and raised his in salute, waiting for hers to join her, and several at the bar looked on at the lowered voice.

"Here's to you and here's to me, the best of friends we'll ever be, but if we ever disagree, to hell with you and here's to me!!!"

The grin spread wicked across his face as his shot glass clinked to hers and he downed it, slamming the glass upside down on the table with a smack of his lips.

"It's good to see you too Keira... Missed you since Socorro..."


[member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Veino Garn]

[member="Julius Sedaire"] [member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Keira Ticon"]
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Chin buried deep beneath the collar of his great-coat, Veino stepped into the bar, boots echoing softly on the floor. He'd turned out his pockets and been scanned for weapons by the surprisingly tall Mandalorian at the door. He'd known many of them, but this one seemed strangely tall even for them. But no matter. He carried no lightsaber at this point and no other weapons. He was simply a traveler making their way through the universe. Just as he had been in the very beginning. But that was a long time ago now. What was it? Close to twenty years since he started his journeys- getting chased by Atrisian inquisitors on Teth and rescued by a Mandalorian?

Yeah, it'd been close to twenty years. Feth. He was getting old by this point. Maybe even a reputation for all he knew. But no matter. That was hardly his business. He wasn't even sure reputation carried over when ending up in the Netherworld and coming back. Sith would love to do that, but for Veino, it was a running gag at this point. Fortunately he would never have such a thing again, so next time he strayed there, he was staying.

Last time it had happened, it had been below this very city, in the sewers. The thought still hung shrouded over his shoulders as he took a bottle of a drink, turning to look at the others. She'd been there for that unfortunate incident. But so be it. A smile tugged at his lips as he saw Julius and he raised the bottle in salute and moved to take a nearby table.

Then the kid caught his eye and he did a double take, frowning slightly as he tried to place... it couldn't be. He squinted and rubbed the stubble on his chin as he uncorked the bottle. That was impossible, wasn't it? Veino reached out with the Force- it seemed the same. He leaned over and spoke quietly.

"Don't feel comfortable with you looking younger than me. Not the way the universe works." He poured a glass of whiskey and lifted it in a half-toast. "But here's to you regardless." He considered a moment and raised it once more to say a little louder, so the small group could hear. "Here's to friends and getting old." He said that last part with a half-grin yes, but it was tired. Veino was tired. He'd been out in the galaxy nearly two standard decades now, if he reckoned time correctly and nearly every one had been at war. Or if not at war, fighting a shadow war with the Dark Side in pockets all over the galaxy.

He was considering retirement. Settle down permanently on Susefvi with the Jensaarai and maybe finally train some actual apprentices. Take a leadership role, maybe even the Council. In a few more decades, perhaps even Saarai-Kar. He had more experience than nearly the entire Jensaarai at this point. He stopped himself and took a swig of whiskey, feeling the burn slide down his throat. Those were thoughts of the future, but that was not what this night was about. It was about the present and celebration and joy. He took another drink.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

Reaching, he slid one of the soul diamond studded corellian jedi credits from his pocket over to the youthful looking Commander of the Outback, and nodded. There was a brief moment of silence, of contemplation, and then a grin of a cat stroking its' whiskers. Julius knew, and Jorus and Mara knew that he knew now. The coin would have a slight alteration. It would let him see Corellia always, and for one with Jorus' gifts and talents, he could probably use it to find the Temple here that much quicker. If the truth were told, he needed people like Jorus, even if on a very casual and rare basis, and so he waited a moment before he spoke. "Come visit sometime, kid... You might be of use there if you can still fly. And you'd love what i've done with the Astronautical Academy, or will be. You and Cal will be drooling. Mara... Good to see you again..."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

Jorus set aside his mug and leaned across the table to snag the token. It was heavier than he'd expected, and it touched his mind in odd ways. Something about it, some complex, unique little imbuement, tugged at his thoughts. He felt affinity with familiar ports, ease of navigation; now he felt it here too as well. More Mara's department than his; she was the crafter, her aunt's heir or one of them. To him, though, it wasn't a useful precedent nor a curio to be studied: it was a symbol with a little utility thrown in, and it helped make this system home.

"I can still fly rings around you or anyone you've got, bub," he said with a grin. "And yeah? I'll stop by the Academy if you say so. See you around, Julius."

"Don't feel comfortable with you looking younger than me. Not the way the universe works." He poured a glass of whiskey and lifted it in a half-toast. "But here's to you regardless." He considered a moment and raised it once more to say a little louder, so the small group could hear. "Here's to friends and getting old."

[member="Veino Garn"]

"Guess you could say I wasn't in the universe, more or less. Wild Space doesn't play by the rules. Found a little more than I was expecting, that's for darn sure." Jorus tucked the jedcred away and reclaimed his mug, which he used to match Veino's toast belatedly. "Friends and getting old."

 

[Kira Vaal]

Corellia.
Home…

It had started as a dream, a hope that one day they may be able to step on their planet of birth and once again be free without the persecution of the overlords that had kept it theirs since the catastrophic events tore the planet in two.
Yet years had passed since the league was established, long violent years that had seen empire’s fall and rise in the backdrop of the galaxy. It all seemed insignificant now, for a Corellian standing on Corellia as a free woman there was no greater feeling in the galaxy. For now matter how much she had felt it was never going to happen…
Kira Vaal was home.

If it hadn’t been for several discreet messages that she had picked up through the Underground she would have missed them all. The little get-together that had been less planned and more force pulled by the fates. Kira had faded into obscurity since the Omega crisis, her abilities with the Force requiring her to concentrate on learning to control it like those of her kind rather then relying on self-taught motivation. Where she gone was a mystery to all, probably even herself but it was clear that in this bar it was probably the first time in several years that any of them had seen the young treasure seeker turned Underground General.

“Maybe Julius yeah, but anyone?” Kira said to the group as she approached in direct challenge of [member="Jorus Merrill"] ’s comment. The reports hadn’t over exaggerated at all, he really had managed to find the best skin care in the world it would seem. If she hadn’t been in the loop thanks to her connection with Underground Command she wouldn’t have recognised him at all, even with the Force signature she was have sworn he was a long lost son or something similar. “Come on, I’m outta it for a while and everyone starts getting illusions of grandeur.” The smirk on her face was as smug as ever, yet exemplified the wear of the last few years, she seemed older, more experienced and marked by small scars here and there.

[member="Julius Sedaire"] was the closest to her and rather then formally greeting Mara as she did Jorus a simple nod was moved her way as it ever was, the respect she had for the girl was beyond any words, plus it allowed her time to flick a small coin, a symbol of the Green Jedi towards the man who had put his life on the line to create the League and had at every moment pushed it forward even if the situation was dire.
“Head up you old Pirate.” She grabbed him in a hug. She had missed Sedaire, even if most of their friendship had been formed over shady communication channels during the work for the League and the Underground, to see him now after they had done what they had said they would do. She couldn’t help it. He needed a hug. “You did it you old scoundrel. You actually did it.” She pulled away and beamed at him with big eyes. “Well done.”

She gave small waves and hellos to [member="Veino Garn"] and [member="Keira Ticon"], both people she knew about by name but couldn’t place having ever worked alongside them personally. However if they were here they would have sacrificed their time for Corellia and freedom. That was enough for respect.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3VUqPQtIfA​

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[member="Kira Vaal"] was hugging him... It wasn't awkward, per se, but there had been on and off tensions between the two for some time. At least in his mind. Which was likely just ego being overly grand. But regardless the sentimentality was returned with a similar embrace and he caught himself grinning as he did, pocketing the coin. These people were friends, family, and more to him. Darron may have shown him the way out of his own personal darkness with Vapaad and the like. But these folks? They were the power behind the light in his eyes, what drove him to rise each time someone knocked him down. Family. Friends. Lovers. Whatever they were to him, the orthodox Jedi had the prohibition on attachment all wrong. He understood their reasoning, but it was flawed fatally when you looked at things like this.

Grabbing the bottle he split his face in two with a grin as he raised the open spirits container and gestured for others to stand with him. He took his own stance on the top of a table, at a glare from the owner which he didn't even see. Pulling [member="Kira Vaal"] up with him and smiling to [member="Keira Ticon"] he raised the bottle high, tipping it to [member="Jorus Merrill"] and others in salute before speaking in a booming voice used recently to commanding troops in battle and making speeches.

"Chakta Sai Kae! A drink to those we have lost, and those we have found again or newly met! We have done the impossible, and that makes us mighty!"

Swigging from the bottle, he passed it to [member="Kira Vaal"], beaming and only a little flushed from the whiskey, and spoke aside to her.

"We did it, Kira. Not just me. We. This is all of ours homecoming... I just lit the match. And you should see the Temple... We're home!"

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

"Chakta sai kae." At the bar, a few paces from the heart of the action, Mara echoed Julius' toast. Not as loudly, though - no command voice here. She couldn't begrudge him his moment, and the occasion was certainly his. He'd been the mastermind of Corellia's liberation and the spearhead of it too, at least on the ground. Locals, expats, even corporate interests: he'd woven them all together. And he'd pulled in Bantam and the Underground -- her included -- to help take care of the One Sith assets throughout the system.

Yes, he deserved the moment. Didn't mean she couldn't get a chuckle out of the empathic awkwardness involving Julius, Kira, and that dark-haired Darksider, whatever her name was. Not a ton of awkwardness, but still. It would take a lot to hide the hint of a triangle situation from a half-Zeltron empath.

She sipped her drink and glanced back at the corner table, where Dad was locked in conversation with Veino Garn. He, too, could have his moment. She could bring him another lum in a bit. Instead of going back, she slipped onto a stool by the bar. She found herself rubbing the bloodstripe on her thigh.

 

[Keira Priest]

Music

Their glasses knocked together, and without hesitation Keira knocked back the shot, the action having become so synonymous with being in his presence that she didn't have to think twice about it. Seconds after his own hit the table she flipped her glass upside-down right across, unable to keep herself from flashing a grin. This was the happiest she had ever seen him since the two first crossed paths, and it meant more to her than he would ever truly realize to see him like this. Ever since they had began to really know one another, she had willed this sort of lightheartedness for him, and now that he'd achieved it she knew he would be quick to move on to even bigger and better things. Perhaps that was all she had ever wanted for him.

"I missed you too, Julius. Nine Hells, it's been too long." The last time she had seen him it hadn't just been him, but rather himself across multiple galactic platforms and in different stages of his life as well. The both of them had looked upon all manner of futures they could have and did share together, and in the end it had only led to her appreciating what they did have even more. Each was a true piece of work that had their life cut out for them in every sense of the word, but at the very least they had each other as well. Sometimes that was all that people like them could as for, or maybe that was just her.

When he moved to stand atop the table she pushed herself to her feet as well, and she couldn't help but laugh as she saw his face was slightly flushed from what was likely more than a few drinks at this point, by the looks of things. He'd be feeling that later, but right now all that mattered was that, for once, everything was alright. Rather than respond in kind she granted Julius his own toast, one the two had shared once upon a time, "Doaba ol'val tru." Those three words were once said with a hint of animosity behind them in a time that felt eons old, but now the inherent meaning they held was something else entirely, perhaps holding more of a weight for herself than they did for any present company.

For once in her life, she could say it felt good to be home.

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"], [member="Julius Sedaire"], [member="Kira Vaal"], [member="Jorus Merrill"], [member="Veino Garn"]

 

[Ria Misrani]

Corellia.

Been a hot minute, Symara looked around the streets of Coronet City. Felt odd to be here and not duck to take cover, scars from the Rebellion, the Raid... from, everything really. It all showed, still the newly repaired Lieutenant Tarriq looked down to her hand. She held that box of smokes, a gift from Lavali Sanjeet. Wherever she's from they smoke to celebrate, and had to hand to the woman. These were pretty darn good, taking a deep breath she adjusted her heavy jacket. The faded words of CorSec were written over the right breast and the left TARRIQ. A Firemane Rehabilitation Services military gray t-shirt rested underneath, worn pilot pants and a belt, combat boots rounded out her outfit. Hand to the door, Symara made her way into the pub, drinking, celebrations and general revelry. Scanning the pub she didn't recognise most of the people here, then again she had teamed up with Firemane to help set her planet free of Sith control.

She did recognise @Julius Sedaire and made her way toward him, here's to the future, and to Corellia she thought to herself.

 

[Sanya Val Lerium]

The ramp lowered onto the concrete landing pad as a feeling of some kind filled her. She'd not been here since the day she left. Since the day her mother was killed in the streets. That was a long time ago. The murderer's would be out of prison now. A part of her wished their lives had been a nightmare since that day. Another wished they had learnt a lesson and began to make other lives better. Today wasn't about dwelling on them though. It was to visit her mothers gave for the first time. It was hard and took up till now to work up the courage. It was also a good chance for her go bond with her padawan. Let him know a little of her past. With the bucay of flowers in her hand she made her way into the spaceport to one of the café's to wait.

[member="Maxumus Corvus"]

 

[Maxumus Corvus]

[member="Sanya Val Swift"]

Maxumus had landed on Corellia about 10 minutes after his master's arrival. He hopped out of his X-Wing, leaving the landing pad promptly. This was his homeworld, the place he'd been born, the place he'd been taken from by the Jedi. In the back of his mind he wondered whether his mother and father were still on the planet, however these were thoughts for another time. He and his master had things to do today, so he made his way to the meetpoint, which by now she should be at.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

The Bloodstripe felt wrong. Oh, she'd helped board and neutralize a Dark Blade dreadnought, and her inventions had turned the tide, and hers was the lower, second-class award with gold instead of red -- but it was still the freaking Bloodstripe, wasn't it. It felt unearned, deeply. Did Dad see her stripes that way, when he'd done so much more to earn his second-class stripes than she had? Did he think she was posing, wearing something she hadn't won the hard way? She hadn't picked up anything like that from him, but he'd been married to a Lorrdian for years, and been Master of First Knowledge. He could probably beat her empathy if he wanted to keep her from feeling that she didn't deserve what she'd been given.

She grimaced and slugged back her drink, spinning the stool back and forth by a few degrees. Anything to delay going back to sit with the young kid who was her dad. And that right there was something else that couldn't be discussed, at least not anymore. She'd said her piece, but her parents had made their choice, out there in Wild Space with strange possibilities thrown at them. When they'd called from Dayark, they'd pretended to consult with her, but even that far away she could tell: the decision had already been made.

In a habit long ingrained, she slipped her hand into her coat pocket and touched the Ankarres Sapphire. If she fell to the Dark Side, turned to anger too far -- or other negativity -- it would burn her. Whenever she felt it grow warm, she knew it was time to calm down, reel herself back in. She felt the warm crystal and did her level best to clear her mind. Not easy, though, not remembering the fight on the Dark Blade.

 

[Alkor Centaris]

This city...

The unfamiliar cityscape was flecked with memories of the hellish combat that had ravaged it. The busy sounds of construction and night life all came together to breathe the only familiarity Alkor had with his homeworld. Despite years away, changes in regime, a plague that had brought the whole galaxy to its knees, and countless wars, Coronet was the same bustling metropolis he remembered.

He had grown up here, close to the Blue Light District. It was a grown up town now, and none of the buildings where as he envisioned it when he closed his eyes. The small apartment where his mother had housed them was gone, and in its place industry had dug its claws deep. Alkor stared at the spot, only aware because of a faint echo in the Force.

His fingers stretched out toward the spot, and he almost felt the warmth of his mother's hand reaching back.

Almost. The only confirmation that those things ever existed at all was gone in an instant. His fingers slowly curled and made a fist, and Alkor exhaled slowly.

[member="Keira Ticon"] had insisted. This was a Mandalorian matter, she said, not Corellian. It was a flimsy lie. Alkor had forced a smile.

She knew that otherwise, the Dark Jedi would never have agreed. The city was painted green through the simulacra of his HUD as he approached the designated watering hole, the distance and location etched into his field of vision. He heard laughter and shattered glass somewhere in the distance, a sure sign that someone had drunk a bit too much.

It was too late to turn back now.

Alkor pushed the door and it swung open, but he did not immediately enter. He stared inward, hard. Even just being in that place was more than he would ever admit. He was no hero, not like the rest of the people drinking around him.

With each step, he felt more out of place. He approached the bar reflexively, only because he felt Ticon there. She was busy talking with [member="Julius Sedaire"], but if he stayed close to her, he could make sense of it all. That was what he told himself.

"Ale," he petitioned the barkeep in that mechanical monotone. She smiled and filled a glass, and Alkor glanced away. He unfastened the helmet, and after a long, silent inhalation, he pried it loose.

It all came rushing back. One hand flew to his head, he grimaced, and then he took a fast sip of the drink. "I should never have come here," he muttered.

 

[Iron Giant]

The Battle for Corellia had been an eventful one, and one Iron Giant found pride in. After all, it was her and her fellow CybeResu, who had captured a number of ships. From what she was told of other members of her new family, "Those of the Kathol Outback", she had in fact collected the largest number of ships in the battle out of all others. Despite her impressive resolve however, a new feeling was in the air surrounding her, when she explained in curt detail exactly how she had managed her feat.

The humans, while happy she had one the battle, appeared frightened by her nearly mechanical ability to dispose of life so easily - so instantly. They did not understand Resu psychology, and probably better for it, considering its naturally brutal nature. It was probably in their thoughts they were glad she was on their side - they didn't want to be spaced into a mass grave of floating bodies frozen in the empty abyss. She had literally killed hundreds in a matter of a couple hours with only a few dozen of her own, demonstrating the efficient killing power of the Resu cybernetically augmented for hyper-adaptability.

Before she took off for the Lujo system, hoping to score more ships (even as far as recruiting fellow Outbacker [member="Kimiko"] with her spoils), the machine assisted space eel/whale went planet side... to one of the few settles that have found the resolve to grow back to their roots despite the desolated state of their homeworld. Not that Iron Giant knew anything about that directly, other than from myths and stories of her own kind disappearing without a trace. Although, hearing that this world was damaged, yet still held people who made a home out of it, and now finally free from the tyranny of the One Sith, filled Iron Giant with hope.

"Exodus" was not a bad substitute for home by any means. It was roughly about the size they needed, and they had since begun operations to hydrogenate its waters with great success, as well as implanted a whole miniature ecosystem below its icy surface. It was shaping up to be a good place to live for Resu, no longer confined to their unarmed armada of freighters. But the desire to return home, especially for the "exile", was agonizingly great.

There was an enemy present there... more than one, that had terrorized them now for years. For the Resu, the occupation felt like much longer considering their relatively short lives, and it triggered a whole slew of biological and psychological bells to go back and literally exterminate every last one. Luckily, the Outback promised to put the system on lock-down and quarantine... to prevent the monstrosities from expanding, considering their destructive and invasive potential. There was a reason they had been considered the Elite of the Moross Crusade.

Nonetheless, while these thoughts permeated her aquatic brain, Iron Giant found herself on the surface of Corellia, where a gathering of celebratory humanoids partook in drinking within a 'bar'. Iron Giant did not know what a bar was, nor what drinking was. Unsurprisingly, there were very few of these sorts of things in Resu waters, and the only narcotic they knew of was used for healing, while usually making them more aggressive. An aggressive Resu was happy Resu, and one that wasn't happy was bored, and one that was bored was dead. It's all about psychology.

There was another problem she encountered while entering the bar - she couldn't identify one humanoid from another. Woe is she who can only see in infrared. She began to regret her decision to come planetside - what was the point of this again? Oh, and she wasn't wearing a hulking glorified walking tank as "armor", so anyone who would have recognized her (such as [member="Jorus Merrill"]) probably wouldn't, unless they had extraordinary abilities or information on their side to inform them.

"Alcoholic beverage?" Iron Giant asked the bartender, who understandably looked at her rather funnily, considering Iron Giant appeared to be the strangest looking droid they ever saw.... and being a bartender, they didn't serve droids.

"Uhh, we don't serve droids." They said.

"Not droid. Resu. Alcoholic beverage." It was not a question any more, whether or not she actually knew what she was going to do with, she wanted it now. Now one will tell her what she is not allowed to have. To reinforce this request - now a demand - a robotic clawed hand raised up and was placed upon the counter, as the nearly three meter tall creature lowered its head to bear down on the humanoid.

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

She hadn't been home in a long, long time (though Corellia hadn't been home in many years), had shown up just when the push for the broken world's freedom had begun, and gotten lost in the déluge. There was hardly a thing that was familiar anymore in the landscape, she'd found, but the people were as she remembered. Though ravaged by war, by Sith occupation, by catastrophic devastation that had come to their home, Corellians were an enduring lot. Yet she wasn't sure if it could be home again. Too much was lost.

Still, what good memories there were to be had, would be celebrated, as would the lives of those that no longer walked the land of the living. She had her confirmation, that her parents had perished in the breaking, and though there was no home or other local physical trappings to inherit, there was the the rest of it: a lot of credits, titles, some offworld property. Places she hadn't visited since she was a child. It was these things that were on her mind when she had entered, just as [member="Julius Sedaire"] raised his toast - and it raised her head, pulling up a smile that was entirely of her resurgent spirit, as she looked on. She'd run into the now-general, quite literally, at the start of the liberation and hadn't really seen him since.

She asked after a glass of local whisky - no preference as to which one, she liked them both - and found a piece of wall to prop herself up against, hooking a thumb into her trouser pocket, behind which the mid of a compacted telescoping staff showed and hung. She let her eyes wander, taking in the other patrons, only making a brief stop on [member="Jorus Merrill"]; she squinted, chewing on the thought that he seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place a name, or a location. Not to mention... he was too young to be questionable in her memory. He had to be.

She shook her head, a two-note laugh sounding in her throat, and returned to her people-watching, settling her gaze more than once on Sedaire and his companions. This was her first time in a drinking establishment on Corellia, as she had left before her twentieth year, before whisky had become a friend of variable intensity. And as she hadn't done in a long, long while, she wondered what Rhuan would think, among heavy thoughts of whether she should stay, or leave Corellia behind once again.

She might need another drink, or ten.

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Life. It teemed. There was just enough alcohol in his system to lower inhibitions, and he floated on an empathic high. Years and years of work. It had been done. Genuinely for the first time in ages his smile rested on oft creased with worry features. Alkor and his brooding worried him, he knew the man was one of Keira's close friends. Catching her eye as he helped Kira down off the table he nodded to the other Mandalorian and made eyes to her fellow. Maybe she could ease his worry and pain. For now, Julius would see to the Resu who had walked in. They were new allies, but ones he knew he would need to court and thank.

Something about this moment felt grand, destined almost. Coat flaring as he hopped to the floor himself, he scanned the room as one of his cohorts ran to speak to the Resu. Contact first, and a message of thanks in sincerity. Their people had been invaluable, if brutally efficient, in combat. Such would be repaid, and [member="Iron Giant"] would drink on his dime tonight. And was told that Julius would like to thank her in person when he and she both had the time to speak at length. Perhaps more formal alliances could be made and presented since such success had been had. There were more wars to be fought, and allies were needed at every turn.

Suddenly, he stopped cold. Waves of recognition hit him. The same woman he had tried to protect in the rebellion was here in the bar again. And that same tug of recognition hit him. The pain mingled with the touch of the Force told him she was likely minimally or untrained, and dangerously close to a perilous road to the Dark Side. Pain and anguish he associated with bad memories wafted over to him. Grabbing his bottle, he smiled to Kira and nodded in Miriya's direction, making it clear he needed to speak with the young lady. Having just came from such a place, he knew it could one of the worse.

He sat down unceremoniously across from the other and poured two shots, raised his high and the bar did the same. He toasted it, and so did they, and he tipped it to her as he knocked it back, and indicated the second shot. Best way to begin to get over heartache, in his inept opinion, was entirely too much fine liquor for a night.

@Selinica Miriya Cailis | [member="Kira Vaal"] | [member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"] | [member="Iron Giant"] | [member="Alkor Centaris"] | [member="Symara Tarriq"] | [member="Keira Ticon"] | [member="Jorus Merrill"] | [member="Veino Garn"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

He nodded, she tipped her head in turn, but move from her lean back on the wall, she did not. He sat at the table alongside of where she stood, and she watched him do it. Watched him pour one shot, then another. Watched him raise another toast, and saw the bar follow suit. Only when he gestured to the second shot, for her, did she tip the chair out across from him, and park her rear in it with grace that he didn't display when he did the same; her glass, now empty, was laid to rest on the tabletop while her other hand plucked the shot off of it.

Eyes trained steady on his in the moment before she knocked it back; two moments passed and the vessel returned to the table empty, her tongue poking out between her lips to draw in what lingered. Her hands, for their part, went folded in her lap after the fact, but her eyes never left him save for when it couldn't be helped. That was the minimal point of her intensity.

"You survived."

Not that she had been expecting him not to, nor had she expected to see him again after those short minutes in which he'd kept her from coming to harm. Not that she wasn't grateful - she was - but she was undoubtedly certain that she could manage herself. Except then.

"Thank you, by the way. You..."

One side of her mouth quirked upward, already feeling the awkwardness of having not made his acquaintance, and she tapped the edge of the shot glass with one slender finger.

"...you're going to have to tell me your name, or I'll have to call you... 'you' all night, or something else, which may be better or worse."

[member="Julius Sedaire"]

 

[Julius Sedaire]

Another shot was poured and slid towards her. For the moment, he took none, letting the glass he had claimed lay on the scarred wood of the table top. A slow grin split his face as she stopped speaking, and he chuckled. It was a low, long, drawn out thing. Genuine mirth at the seeming confusion of his survival by this woman tinged it in spades, and he nodded to her as he drew in a breath and tapped his nose with his left index finger of a calloused hand, and then jokingly pointed at her.

"Aye, I survived. It's what I do. Beat the odds time and time again. That time was closer than some others. I make it a habit of dueling Sith Lords far too often. My name is Julius, by the way... I didn't mean to separate from you the last time, but I hope the men took care of you well enough. I had business to attend to, but I should have sought you out after. Too many things demanding my time and care. Far too many. I hope you don't mind a few drinks and good conversation as an apology?"

Truth was, and the frustration probably showed... The longer he was in charge of things, even the temple, the more it chafed at him. If [member="Jorus Merrill"] didn't likely need some time in his own skull to sort out whatever he had gotten into, he'd probably seek the man out for advice... How did you reconcile such responsibilities against a wanderlust drenched soul? Was it his failing to have led his people to freedom, and now be unable to lead them further? Did that make him less of a warrior? Less of a man, even? Or was it merely just what he was and wasn't cut out to do. Situations like this kept cropping up, and he hated it. He could not manage his own affairs due to duty. And he was proving time and again that he was ill-suited to lead in peace anyhow.

[member="Miriya Cailis"]