Populate Expedition Kashyyyk | TSC Populate of Xa Fel

[Anet Raine]

Efret Farr
Robes | Mask | Lightsaber
​

Anet elected to leave her cloak behind, figuring any clothes that billowed were liable to get snagged on branches and vines. The dark black fabric was expertly fitted, offering her grace in movement and accentuating her form, which had grown somewhat more athletic over the months.

Her poorly kept lightsaber, clipped to her belt, dangled gently as she climbed over a fallen branch. Practically a twig compared to the immense girth of the forest's ancient kin.

One other thing worth noting was her lack of presence in the Force, just as when Efret met her. Though there was an undeniable source of darkness tucked away within her robes - her mask, the source of her power.

She continued to clamber across the treefall until they arrived at a narrow clearing. Grooves left in the earth, ghostly impressions of dead trees long gone. Food for those that fed on dead plant matter, and enrichment for the soil from which new life sprouted.

As Anet stopped to adjust to her new surroundings, Efret broke the silence, and it nearly startled her.

"What do you know of the Builders?"

That voice would still take some getting used to.

She looked sidelong at the former Jedi Master. "The Rakata?" She asked. "I don't typically interest myself with pre-Republic history... but they're something of an exception."

After all, Anet Raine professed the history of Dark Side cults at Shey Tapani University. Or she had when she was a practicing academic.

"We know it was an ethnostate built on the Dark Side. It fueled doctrine and technology, both, enabling their vast empire." She stopped herself there and gave the Jedi a more scrutinizing look. "Why?"

 

[Parvati]

P A R V A T I

House of Parvati • Mistress of the House

P O R T - M E R C Y​

Irritation flickered like heat lightning in the woman's gaze. Who dared approach Parvati?

The wrath of a woman interrupted was about to fall upon...

A Chadra-Fan?

With a cart?

The velvet glove, still gripping the cane, tensed. The rage of one thousand suns fueled her blood like gasoline, and she wanted nothing more than to crack the little vermin across the head with the cane. But then she would have killed two people, and that was a lot harder to come back from. One murder was scary, two was enough to cause a revolt. She needed to think on her feet, before she was made to be the fool by this creature.

"You're brave." Her tone was pointed, but not mean spirited. People like Parvati were masters at navigating social situations. Even if just a few cells beneath the surface of her skin, her blood was boiling in anger, her expression was serene and collected. She offered precisely the amount of smile required to communicate that she was both irritated and intrigued. Her eyes would narrow like a predator about to pounce, or a smiling mother.

"Fear and hunger motivate in stride, but I doubt these people are too hungry after seeing their friend's brain splattered across the floor." Her icy stare turned from Chedda toward the group. The silence had given way to mumbling now. Both droids, having circled around the entire room, were able to pick up on what was being said. It was a rough translation of the many languages being spoken, but there was one major word that kept being brought up.

Ronto.

Gods damn it, the little rodent had done it, he had successfully subdued the fear Parvati had tried to cultivate. Even with the Twi'lek brains stuck to the floor, the bastards were thinking about food. A good businesswoman was only as successful as she was fast on her feet. You had to learn how to pivot if you wanted to make it in the underworld.

That meant sometimes getting your hands dirty.

And, apparently, covered in whatever sauce was spilling out of the sides of the wraps.

"It seems they are eager to try your wraps, little merchant" She said slyly, never one to admit she had been outdone.

TAG: Chernobog

 

[Chernobog]

A cold sweat formed under Chedda's fur, his heart pounding against his ribs like he had just seen Darth Carnifex in the flesh. For a brief moment, he truly believed the velvet cane would smash his skull in and send his synthetic bantha mustache flying. He noticed that icy glare she was giving him, the instant they understood that his unexpected culinary move had completely ruined her dramatic, blood-soaked entrance.

She was angry, but clever enough to avoid causing a full-blown riot over a lukewarm Ronto wrap. As her soft glove descended and grabbed the wrap, Chedda exhaled a breath he hadn't known he was holding. The gamble had paid off as he had cleverly taken over a mob boss's execution speech and transformed it into a busy lunch hour.

"Ah, the Mistress possesses an unparalleled mind for commerce!" Chedda squeaked out, his voice a rapid-fire burst of pure, unadulterated relief as he immediately leaned into the pivot. He slapped the side of his grav-cart, his large black eyes gleaming with opportunistic joy.

"A full stomach breeds compliant workers! Chedda knows this! The galaxy runs on credits, but credits are useless if the hands are too shaky from hunger to count them!" As the rest of the squatter crowd began to edge closer, murmuring the word Ronto like a chant, Chedda was already tossing wraps onto paper trays with lightning speed.

He didn't care about the dead Twi'lek or the intimidation tactics; he cared about the fact that Parvati had just inadvertently validated his business. If the terrifying lady with the cane thought the wraps were worth pausing a murder for, then every petty criminal in Worksite 153 wanted one.

"Step up, step up! Do not disappoint the Mistress!" Chedda shouted to the approaching crowd, his tiny hands slinging stale Shaak Pot Roast and glowing blue liquids as fast as the credits could hit his lockbox. He shot a sly, knowing look up at Parvati, his fake mustache twitching with a grin.

​

 

[Veyla Tass]

Tags: Nyara Dakhan | Drakul | Vulcan Zambrano
Objective: Rancor Rancher Deluxe

“My ancestors hunted rancors for sport.” Nyara rumbled, her voice feminine but surprisingly deep. “But no, I personally have not hunted one before. And I hear they want this old bull alive…” Her face shifted in a sneer of disgust. “I’d prefer if it was dead. They are unpredictable, at best.”

So, no.

"We are hunting something old, territorial, and clever enough to still be free while lesser beasts are already cornered." He stood again, looking into the deeper dark between the trees. Somewhere far off, birds screamed and scattered from a branch with frantic wingbeats. His gaze shifted back to Veyla and Nyara. "Taking it alive creates far greater risk. It will almost certainly be a test of endurance before the days end."

"All of these were left around the same time." His jaw's exposed machinery moved with every word. "Meaning he will be back soon." A wicked smile tore at his skin.

Also no, then, for both of the boys. Fine.

Veyla sighed and knelt on the ground. She didn't mind the mud, the soft, slick soil; it was cleaner here than anywhere on her home turf.

"Unpredictable's good for us, I think. Means it might do something stupid."

She sounded distant when she spoke. Her eyes were up at the tree line, and she was considering options.

"Big guy," Finally, she returned to Kashyyyk, and gestured to the Epicanthix; if she'd been informed that he was anyone of any particular importance, she didn't act it. "When we find this thing, d'you think you can help me get in under its legs? And..."

The acolyte stood up, shifted her weight for a second, and grinned, all pointy canines. "Can any of you bring one of these down on top of it?"

She gestured with a pale hand at the new growth so common down in the Shadowlands; the infant wroshyr, only a few wookiees tall at this stage in their life cycle.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

Shadows in Shadows
KASHYYYK
SHADOW TEMPLE

Omega Squad Every Day Gear Locations

• Michael, Gabriel, Raguel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel
  [Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]
• 
  Rides
  
  • "Enterprise" Station Ship
  • Vigilant Reaper
  • Null Vector
  • Speederbike
  • Iron Psalm
  Gear/Armor
  
  
  • Gear(“Bodycam” Datapad, UAD Drone, link to Seraphim AI included)
  • Lightblaster
  • Shortsabers (“Night” and “Day”)
  • 5 Throwing Lightknives
  • 3 Force Blinding Flashbangs
  • RI-17 Rifle-w-MS-0412 Grenade Launcher
  SURGICAL - CRYBERNETIC IMPLANTS
  
  • Repli Implants that would be for the limbs
  • Bonemer enhancements to strengthen structure of the body
  • Muscle enhancements.
  • Hemo enhancements for blood flow
  • Hawkeye implants for eyes
  • Advanced Medical Implant
  • Scentzy
  • Injected Nanotech upgrades
  
  
  
• Shadow Sanctuary - Enterprise

Oh, he was out there. Watching, waiting. The shadows were his friends, his allies, and right now so were the beasts he would normally have to fight. They were natives of the planet, not the monsters trying to ensnare them, enslave them. They were a part of the ecosystem, and he was going to keep them that way. He was going to keep this planet free to the best of his ability.

There was a Bull Rancor he could not save, but he was going to save the rest of them. If he could not, the monsters taking them, destroying the healing of the wounds of this planet would have more stories to tell of just how dangerous the Shadowlands really was.

TAGS • ARE • OPEN
Personal Effects - Omega Squad Loadouts​

 

[Zoranth]

PORT MERCY

Zorath moved through the outer corridors of the old worksite with unhurried steps. It was quite busy, but no one bumped into him. There were plenty of outsiders at the port walking quickly and with their heads down. And yet, without a word, they quietly parted before Zorath. He slipped through them like a shark through a shoal of fish.

His montrals registered the layered sounds ahead. There was that odd rumble of Wookiee voices. Even though he stood out, people would not remember his passing. The memory of him would simply slide away when anyone tried to look at it. Like a figment in the corner of someone vision.

He paused just beyond the cantina threshold, listening.

"That is just the beginning, and I'm offering it to the first person that puts me in contact with the person you regard as controlling this Worksite. The one that lets the vermin run rampant."

Zorath came to a stop, tasting the shape of her intent through the Force. Ambition. It was always fascinating to him when it was laid so bare. Did this outsider have such a desire to bind this place to profit before someone else claimed it? No immediate fear, just the blunt placement of someone who felt they had all the leverage they needed.

Zorath slipped into the Cantina quietly. He stood quietly, one hand resting lightly against the edge of a nearby table.

He had arrived with no preconceptions of how he could take advantage of the situation, but he certainly had a layered set of plans tucked away at the back of his mind. This scene, however, was utterly fascinating. He would try and follow them to whoever it was these hunters felt was in charge if he could.

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

Varin sheathed the Alpha Tuk'atta bone knife as blood dripped from his fingers to the ground. He looked around at the trees, their massive scale and their winding branches almost creating a natural highway above them.

He caught her looking at the blade he had crafted for himself from the kill he had made with his bare hands.

“Kill well on this hunt, perhaps you will be able to make your own.”

When she mentioned the trees his brow arched. He was somewhat used to the mass vegetation. Mainly from his experience on Brosi and his adventures on other planets.

“I forget that some people have yet to see trees like these.”

Varin's gaze flicked over to the newcomer who had broken off from a pack with an observer clearly staring daggers into her back.

Varin slowly walked over to the new face.

“Are you looking for a hunting party?”

The question hung in the air as he waited for her answer.

“Are you capable of keeping up?”

Another question, prodding into her to get a feel of her very being. His gaze flicking back to the other acolyte staring hatred towards her. It wasn't uncommon that such things happened among acolytes that wished to climb the ladder.

It was also something that was not of Varin's concern.

His gaze then drifted towards Mercy who seemed to be on the same tracks as his crew. His gaze sharpened as he approached her next.

“Are you hunting Mother as well Empress?”

A small smirk lifted his lips.

“We could turn this into a small competition if you wish. My crew versus you? See who gets the kill first?”

Kaelyr | Nysa Veilwalker | Seris Velmora | Mercy​

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

Varin Mortifer Mercy Seris Velmora Kaelyr

Nysa observed as Varin approached. His questions came like thrown knives: quick, pointed, meant to draw blood if they could.

Are you looking for a hunting party?

Are you capable of keeping up?

Her gaze flicked briefly toward the acolyte glaring holes into her back before returning to him. The hostility barely registered.

"If I couldn't keep up," she replied quietly, "I'd have had the sense to stay behind."

No bravado. Just a statement.

"I didn't come to be carried."

Her attention shifted to the bone knife at his hip again.

"You earned that."

It wasn't admiration so much as acknowledgment. Predators respected predators, even if they hunted differently.

"I don't know that I'd keep a trophy."

She tilted her head, studying him now instead of the weapon.

"I'd rather remember the hunt than wear it."

The arrival of the Empress drew her attention without stealing it entirely. Varin's challenge carried easily between them, spoken with enough confidence that it sounded less like arrogance and more like entertainment.

A competition.

How very Sith.

Nysa exhaled a quiet, amused breath through her nose.

"Mother won't care who reaches her first."

Her dark eyes wandered back toward the dense jungle ahead, where every rustle seemed to promise something watching from just beyond sight.

"But I imagine she'll have opinions about whoever arrives second."

Face scrunched up for a moment. "I sense a path of death ahead." She was confident that death might lead to Mother. Or perhaps something even bigger they weren't prepared for. She waited a moment, to see if the others would follow her silent offer to track. Then she began walking forward. A trail of shadows pooled in her wake, as if a breathing-living entity that wanted to cling and hold onto her.

 

[Arris Windrun]

Vess Sadragen | Lily Rhodes
​

She turned and looked back up at the control room, then back at Vess. It was a good question - a very good question. Especially when people like Arris Windrun and Vess Sadragen existed.

Facetiously, and with a grin, Arris answered. "Oh... You know?" She glanced back up again. "Too complicated." She took another drag.

Without waiting for an answer, the cyborg turned to the crew, raising her voice above levels that should be humanly possible. Perks of replacing your voice with an implant.

"Listen up!" It took a second or two before the power tools shut off. All eyes were now on Arris. She pointed at Vess. "This girl here thinks you're all taking too long. So she's gonna do your job for you."

Most were disinterested, but there were a few grumbles and glares directed at the young brunette. Arris snickered under her breath and turned to Vess with the cigarette burning between her fingers. "Well. You figure it out."

 

[Seris Velmora]

Tag: Varin Mortifer | Kaelyr | Mercy | Nysa Veilwalker

Seris' crimson eyes lit up as Varin offered the possibility of earning a blade like his. A giggle escaped her. "I like trophies." It was said with the same innocent enthusiasm someone else might reserve for collecting seashells. The Mandalorian hammer resting across her shoulder was proof enough of that. Every scar, every weapon, every trinket taken from a worthy opponent carried a memory worth keeping.

If a bone knife waited at the end of this hunt…Well. That was just another reason to find Mother first.

Varin's observation about unfamiliar forests earned only a careless shrug. "Guess so." She didn't elaborate. Most assumed she had simply grown up somewhere without towering forests. Few ever guessed the truth—that the time etched onto a chronograph were far outnumbered by the years her body had been artificially aged. Clone vats, accelerated conditioning, relentless training... it made age a funny thing. Not that Seris cared enough to explain it.

Her attention was already drifting to the newcomer. She gave Nysa an unabashed once-over. Quiet. Composed. The sort who watched before striking.

Huh. Seris couldn't decide if that meant she would be incredibly dangerous or incredibly boring. Then Nysa mentioned death. A wide grin split Seris' face. "Death's fun." There wasn't an ounce of irony in the statement.

Before anyone could react, though, another word snagged her attention.

Empress.

Her head turned almost immediately toward the approaching figure Varin had addressed. "So that's the Empress..." She knew the Covenant had one. It wasn't exactly secret knowledge. She'd simply never met her. Curiosity replaced excitement for all of three seconds before the hunt reclaimed first place in her mind.

Seris rolled her shoulders, then cracked the knuckles on one hand, then the other.

Come on…

Every instinct screamed at her to start running into the Shadowlands already. Instead, she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet, somehow managing to remain exactly where she stood. Waiting. Patiently. It was an impressive display of restraint. One that was becoming harder to maintain with every passing heartbeat.

​

 

[Astra Sadow]

A grizzly man stood up and gestured for Astra to follow.

"Bring it." The leather-bound woman didn't wait to see if her instruction was carried out. She'd hired her escort to do a job, and she expected it would be handled. The alternative would not be pleasant -- for them or any witnesses. Astra didn't even care if they had to put the other Wookiee down that she'd had the box thrown so they'd shut up.

The four figures slipped out the back of the cantina turned hunting lodge and began to ascend a narrow staircase that wound about one of Kashyyyk's many, massive trees. Astra eyes were straight ahead on the back of their guide's head the entire time. There was no need for her to keep her head on a swivel.

After a minute they'd arrived on a landing where a moderate to large hut had been constructed. Two upright men stood on either side of the doorway. Their eyes held an unnatural intensity to them; one that said these were not there to collect a handful of credits. Their guide made a gesture and the group would pass without incident or so much as an exchange.

The interior consisted of an open room that took up most of the hut's space. At the other side of the room was a high-backed chair with a man comfortably perched, and another two intense stooges that flanked it two steps forward of the dais. Cushions were set on the floor off to either side of a path that led from the door to the throne. No one wanted to impede supplicants, after all.

Astra smiled as their eyes met.

Zoranth​

 

[Vess Sadragen]

Vess regarded Arris for a long moment before her attention shifted toward the workers gathered around the blast doors. "...You know," she said evenly, "I was merely asking a question." The faintest trace of amusement touched the corner of her mouth before she stepped past Arris and started toward the vault.

Conversation followed in her wake. She caught the occasional glance, the odd muttered complaint, but paid none of it any attention. As far as she was concerned, they had ceased to exist the moment she'd committed to a solution. By the time she reached the foot of the blast doors, every set of eyes in the hangar had settled on her.

Her gaze lifted to the control room overlooking the worksite. Without breaking stride, the Force gathered beneath her feet. She launched upward in a single effortless motion, sailing past the catwalk railing before touching down lightly upon the steel grating with her boots absorbing the momentum with practiced ease. A few startled voices rose from below, though Vess didn't so much as glance in their direction. Instead, she brushed a speck of dust from the sleeve of her jacket, smoothed an imaginary crease near the cuff, and only then turned toward the control room.

Her fingertips came to rest against the access panel. She closed her eyes. The machinery answered immediately, power flowing through the facility in countless branching paths, every conduit, processor, relay, and junction unfolding within her awareness. She traced the network patiently, slipping through dormant systems and bypassing damaged circuits until she found the maintenance architecture buried beneath the primary controls. Old. Isolated. Forgotten. Exactly where it should be. "There you are."

It took only the gentlest touch. Across the hangar, dormant indicator lights flickered to life. One massive locking bolt withdrew with a deep metallic thud that echoed through the chamber, then another. Hydraulic pumps groaned awake after years of silence, their vibrations rolling through the structure as the enormous blast doors shuddered against their seals.

Vess opened her eyes. "I'd stand back." She called back to all of those near the blast doors as the final lock disengaged with a resounding clang. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the blast doors began to part under their own power, revealing the darkness beyond. She waited until the doors had completed their cycle before taking her hand from the panel, then turned back toward the hangar below. "Your workers need a new job," she called back to Arris before walking into the control room as that door slid open.
​

TAG: Arris Windrun Lily Rhodes

 

[Lily Rhodes]

Lily was hit by noise the moment she stepped onto the landing pad, the Pilgrims Rest powering down behind her. It wasn’t just the thoughts and distant rumbling of voices, but the literal noise coming from Arris’s crew, the whine of cutting tools and the crack of welders and then the very loud shout that silenced all of them.

She slid up silently beside Arris as Vess jumped neatly to one of the catwalks, moving along it with the confidence that had drawn Lily to her in the first place. A smirk tugged at her lips as she watched her as she set to work, dropping her gaze to the workers who watched her with varied expressions, some annoyed and impatient, others suspicious, all of them jumped when the first metallic thud reverberated.

“Show off.” she called up with a grin, as she disappeared into the control room. Lily shifted her attention to Arris, her hands sliding into her pockets. “Sorry I’m late. I hear we have some squatters to clear out?”


Arris Windrun Vess Sadragen

 

[Zoranth]

PORT MERCY

Astra Sadow

Zorath let the group ascend ahead of him, moving up the winding staircase at his own unhurried pace. His montrals caught the creak of the wood beneath their steps and the faint shift in the air as they left the cantina behind.

A wroshyr tree was so wide he could simply remain on the far side of it as they followed the winding stairs upwards.

Zoranth was always seeking new opportunities and new games. This little port might offer a few, but this woman's bold declaration and demands had caught his interest. He wanted to see how it played out.

He stepped onto the landing and waited the, listening in.

The arrangement inside was a clear line from the door to the high-backed chair. To Zoranth's surprise it was a human flanked by wookies.

The man was lean, with sharp, weathered features.

"I'm Marek Thorne."

Thorne did not rise. His gaze moved over Astra, then to the box someone carried. Word travelled quickly.

For a moment the only sound was the faint creak of the chair as Thorne leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“So,” he said, "You’ve made some noise down in my cantina. What do you want?”

Zoranth - listening in - had a sneaking suspicion the man was not long for this world.

 

[Efret Farr]

It was somewhat of a challenge to see Anet. Without a presence within the Force, her golden glowing form didn't appear in the Sight that it gifted her, though she did appear into real color through the irregular holes of Efret's remaining natural vision. It was both infinitely strange and infinitely fascinating to walk beside a woman whose likeness occurred to her only in small splotches, more than half of her face, all of her torso, and part of her hand swallowed up in the void of the darkness of her seeing mind.

She hadn't told Anet that she was Blind as well as Deaf—well, she had directly even told her that, but the combination of her physical signing when they had first met and the moments when Efret didn't respond to auditory cues was probably enough for Anet to concluded as much.

If she knew Efret to be Blind, she could so easily hide from newer Sith's senses.

It was a terrifying prospect.

"You're suspicious." The voice trapped at her neck vibrated against her throat as it spoke her will. "I would be too, if the roles were reversed." When she had found herself in the company of Zeren on Spintir years ago, she hadn't been, but his Darkness had been stinted just so by his desire to touch the Light. Furthermore, she hadn't been in her right mind, the Dark side of the planet's dual nexus wedging the cracks of her mind further open—or trying to until he stopped it.

And accidently bled her saber from its brilliant green to golden orange.

She had kept it that way, not bothering to purify the crystal as a reminder to herself that there was always a path back from the Dark, and that there were beings trying desperately to be good even as the Light they craved burned them like a moth's fragile wings. That they deserved guidance and love even if the majority of the Jedi and Galactic Alliance seemed to disagree.

But in the end, her gallant theoretics had crumbled, giving way to fear. For all of her supposed tolerance she had spent decades building among the stars' many peoples, even Efret Farr wasn't above the fear that Mercy said was characteristic of the Jedi.

"Believe it or not, I know where I'm going," she continued, lips still. "They built a Forge out here to terraform the planet and to protect a Star Map. I thought the latter would help you." She inclined her head, gracefully acknowledging an unspoken correction similar to the one Anet had given in the archives:

"Besides. I believe this information is ours."​

"Help us," the trapped voice spoke aloud at Efret's behalf, hissing sharp, promising emphasis into the last word. "We're still looking for Tira, yes?"

Anet Raine​

 

[Astra Sadow]

His cantina? Word didn't travel fast enough. "Your cantina has all the life of a graveyard, and smells worse besides. I'm here to offer them a chance at having vintages like this one," Astra gestured off to the side to the bottle raised by her guard, "make an appearance more often than not. In turning this humble place into a proper port. Bustling with commerce and credits."

Astra paused for a moment with a slight raise of her brows. "Interested?"

If the man couldn't take one little barb or the hint of something greater than lording over a hovel, he wasn't the sort of person Astra wanted around. As things were, his time in this galaxy was already being weighed against the weight of a black feather. Now it was time to see whether the man put a hand on the scale against his favor, or managed to eek out another day or two before proving his incompetence. If he were talented in any way, Astra expected this worksite would be much more than it was already.

Zoranth​

 

[Zoranth]

PORT MERCY

Astra Sadow

Zorath stayed outside. His weight shifted onto one leg, the cybernetic hand resting against the wood. His montrals caught the steady rhythm of Thorne’s breathing and the faint creak of the chair under his weight. The man hadn’t moved much. Just that slow lean back after Astra’s jab.

Then he felt his heart rate increase. A faint creak as he leaned forwards to meet the provocation.

Thorne’s gaze narrowed as he leaned forwards.

"Which of you brought her here?"

No one answered for a moment.

"If you tell me who made the decision then you won't be punished. Otherwise you're all hunting spiders in the deepest shadowlands for a week."

Zorath finally decided to enter the room. The tall togruta smiled politely as he walked in, keeping his distance from Astra.

This was tense. A small room of armed hunters. Zorath had never been a violent sith, but life was boring without risk. Calculated risk.

"Perhaps," Zorath said, as several hands went to blasters, "You should listen to her offer and see if I can provide a counter-offer."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

VARIN MORTIFER

Equipment: Durum Mantle | Black Blade of Chandrila | Eye of The Dragon | Heavy Sith Mace | Cross Guard Broadsaber

He understood what she was saying. The confidence she spoke in of keeping up, but to Varin, words were much easier than action. She would have to show she could keep up.

When she spoke to him of her hunting ways and the mention of not keeping trophies he didn't respond right away, studying her for but a moment before choosing to speak.

“It's more than remembrance. Nothing goes to waste on a kill, especially with worthy prey.”

Varin then looked at the Mandalorian hammer that rested on Seris’ shoulder. Almost reminded him of his mace. A weapon not just for killing, but maiming. A weapon made to not only finish conflict, but to scar other opponents from approach. Hammers were effective with that, and they were effective with dense armor.

“The hammer may prove useful.”

His gaze fell to the Empress once more giving her a slight nod, before he joined his group for the hunt.

Vegetation had been ripped from the roots, branches splintered and bark torn from the surface of trees. This was certainly the trail.

He moved with them through the trees, through the ruined brush and further into the dark forest ahead of them. His senses reached out like tendrils of smoke from the runes on his back, watching and listening ever intently.

The last time he had hunted in a group it was among brothers, this time they were practically new faces. Faces that needed to be tested.

Every one of them brought a certain skill that could be useful on this hunt, and he aimed for each one to be tested.

For what was armor or weapons if they were not tempered and tested before ensuing battles?

Kaelyr | Seris Velmora | Nysa Veilwalker | Mercy​

 

[Nysa Veilwalker]

Nysa ignored the sith apprentice who was hunting her. Though, she could feel his gaze lingering on her back as she disappeared deeper in the forest with Varin Mortifer and Seris Velmora . Mercy and Kaelyr no doubt close by. She was not concerned with the sneering, taller man who thought he could bully her. Her attention focused on the path ahead. What she was tracking.

What the wind did not claim, the creature had already broken. Uprooted ferns lay exposed to the damp earth, and long strips of bark curled from wounded trunks like old skin. Nysa lowered herself beside one such tree, fingers brushing the fresh splinters without disturbing them. Taking a knee in the damp, dank dark soil..

Heavy.

The thought came quietly as she studied the gouges. Not merely strength, but weight behind each movement. The sathog had not needed to hide its passing. It simply did not care who followed.

She rose without a word, dark eyes tracing the ruined path ahead before drifting briefly toward Varin. His observation lingered in her thoughts.

Nothing goes to waste on a kill.

It was not so different from the forests she had once known. Predators consumed. Scavengers inherited. The earth accepted what remained. Waste was a habit of people, not beasts.

"The trail is fresh," she said softly, her voice barely rising above the restless leaves. "It isn't fleeing."

Her gaze swept the canopy, then the dark spaces between the roots where shadows settled too heavily.

"If it knows we're following..." she murmured, almost to herself, "...then perhaps it's already chosen where we'll meet."

The Force spread outward, slow as mist through the trees. She did not seek to grasp at the creature, only to feel the places where the forest's rhythm had been disturbed—the silence of birds, the hesitation of smaller lives tucked beneath the brush, the subtle wrongness left in the wake of something far larger than itself.

Then she felt it. As they all would hear it. A scream of an unlucky animal. Or perhaps an unlucky apprentice. It was agonizing followed by the wet scchhhlick that surely cut off the screamer's sound. She felt the spirit the moment it left the body. And for a brief moment, her eyes darkened, the circular ring around her eyes glowed a lightning-vibrant green.

Without turning her head to the other, she pushed to her feet and slid through the undergrowth in the scant spaces it offered her slim figure. "You two may want to prepare your weapons." Whether it was Mother or some other predator was unknown yet. Even as they broke through the undergrowth to see.

 

[Nyara Dakhan]

Tags: Vulcan Zambrano // Drakul // Veyla Tass ​

A male voice reached Nyara’s ears and she turned her gaze upon a newcomer, a man - taller than she was, taller than most others around, in fact. She gave him a quick look over, took stock of him too. He seemed to have come at least somewhat prepared for this little hunt - that was good, at least.

Nyara turned her focus back to the dense underbrush and the forest canopy, then towards what sign had been left behind by the rancor, and kept silent as the others with her responded either to her comments or to the other girl with her. The taller male seemed to have his own thoughts and opinions about the situation at hand, though Nyara readily agreed with his initial assessment.

This rancor hadn’t survived or evaded capture this long by being stupid, that was for sure. Which meant they would have their work cut out for them.

Another newcomer, a second male - or so Nyara assumed - had arrived and gave his own assessment of the situation; this rancor seemed to be patrolling the area, and was likely to return soon.

"Unpredictable's good for us, I think. Means it might do something stupid." the other girl said in response to Nyara, her voice distant as she seemed to be looking at what was all around them.

“I do think I agree with Big Boy and the pale one over there - if this thing has survived this long without being captured or killed, then it would be to our folly to go into this thinking it will do something stupid. This rancor is smart - but it does have a pattern to its patrol. We can leverage that, maybe…”

"Can any of you bring one of these down on top of it?"

Nyara turned her eyes to the wroshyr tree that the other pale girl gestured to, and pursed her lips in thought. The tree was a sapling, but still far larger than any other tree in the area. It was perhaps big enough and heavy enough to deal enough damage to the rancor, if they could find a way to utilize the tree as a tool.

“...I think a couple of us working together with our Force energies could collapse it down upon the creature, or at least a limb of it; a strike or blow to the rancor’s head could be enough to stun it long enough for us to subdue it. We would have to distract it or keep it in the area long enough for such a tactic to work, if it does. Could be worth a shot, though. Unless either of you boys have other ideas or suggestions?” ​