I Don't Trust Droids [OP]

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge hadn't quite believed it was happening so quick, but he'd got the message. He knew what was going on. Somewhat. A long time ago - many, many years - he'd broken into these very Towers, scaled their heights, and then snuck into the room housing the then Prex. A woman, [member="Cira"], whom Ayden had figured would be most likely to accept their offer of merger to consolidate their hold on the local space.

No sooner had he entered the room than his armors cloaking had drained itself of power, leaving him standing, awkwardly, in the middle of the room.

He still remembered the first words out of his mouth.

"Kark me, right?"

A sigh passed through his lips as the lift opened and he stepped out. On either side of him a pair of lifts opened, four of his Initiates stepping out around him. Grey armor reflecting the light from above, he looked down the hall to the secretaries desk, eyes blinking. He'd got helmetless for this, not needing the protection. His halberd was on his back, as well. Turning his head to the right, then the left, he began moving forward.

Behind him, the lifts moved downward to pick up [member="Uriel"] and his squad.

All these years later he could still feel the invisible hand of hers around his armored throat, husky voice asking him the one question he'd never be able to answer...

“Who are you?”​

He still didn't know. His life in the Protectorate had been shifting, changing. There was a time he'd been filled with a boyish bravado. A young soldier with a gun and all the hopes in the world. A steady job, great benefits and pay. Hot boss. What more could you want?

But the galaxy had a way of changing people. From [member="Anaya Fen"] to [member="Ashin Varanin"], all the way to his brief run in with Dredge, everything had been leading him to this moment. He'd made friends he'd never anticipated, from the Sith to those as broken as he. Those friendships lay in ruins now, all for the woman who'd stood in this office all that time ago, threatening to throw him from a window.

1.3 seconds.

That was the fall time. It felt like it'd been that long since he'd first shown here with Ayden in toe.

Time was funny like that.

Pushing open the massive doors, he beheld the Iron Throne that [member="HK-36"] had made, and decided then and there to remove it. One initiate dropped himself behind the desk outside, another two flanking the doors. The fourth went back to the lift to search those coming off who weren't Inquisition. He'd escaped from this office to Dagobah, and he'd not been the same since he'd been abandoned there.

Then she'd disappeared, and so had he.

To think. To give solace to the families of those lost with stories of their children.

Eventually, to join the Jedi. It was there he'd wondered if perhaps he'd come into his own, finding [member="Marakai Al'Orren"] and bringing her under his wing and into his bed. Then he'd ruined her life just as surely as he'd ruined his own. He'd alienated [member="Coryth Elaris"], drifted from [member="Ayden Cater"] and lost contact with [member="Jorus Merrill"] and his god-daughter. Every road, however, had lead here.

It always lead here.

This desk. The chair - now a throne - those windows. The books. The paintings.

Every sign pointed here.

A sigh parted his lips, haggard visage falling flat with a burden he'd forgotten he bore, and he moved around the desk to settle into the throne. It would do until another, more comfortable chair could be made. He couldn't feel discomfort in this armor. Before he sat, he rested his halberd against the back of the throne, then settled in to drape his heavy gauntlets across the arms, hands gripping the ends as he let his weight distribute itself onto the metal.

Leaning back, staring at the open doors that gave him a birds eye view of the lift, he realized then he was what he was always meant to be.

Alone.

An avenging sword, pulled from the scabard of its wielder to take down that which would seek to oppress him. There lay only one end for a sword; in blood-stained dirt. Perhaps that day could come now. Perhaps it couldn't.

Another responsibility for him to wear until a new Protector could be established.

Him? In charge? War was most certainly coming. A laugh-scoff parted his lips as he recalled the last words she'd spoken that first day.

"Keep out of my affairs -- and my office."​

She'd said them to Ayden. Not to him. Perhaps that's why he'd never listened. And yet, despite the field promotion, he couldn't help but feel this was merely the beginning of the end. A hand rose to the display on the desk, opening up the information feed afforded the Protector. It was time to get down to business, but he didn't know where to start. Maybe Uriel would know.

Or Hastings.

He blinked.

I am so unprepared.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

An Inquisition initiate frisked him at the turbolift, and Jorus got the hint from the kid's face: He wasn't recognized. Spend long enough as a reservist and you lose your...what? Edge? Recognizance? Street cred? Dental benefits?

Could be deliberate, though. He'd resigned not long after the droid had built the throne. The paperwork was still warm, but Heroes Don't Quit.™ Complete the aptitude test, recruits. If heroes don't quit, and Jorus quits, Jorus is:

a ) Always a hero
b ) Sometimes a hero
c ) Insufficient information available to answer this question
d ) None of the above

Your career is riding on your percentile score. Test of judgment to follow.

Your supervisor has resigned for personal reasons. You disagreed with your outgoing supervisor's methods and goals, to the point where you were getting ready to resign. You and your new supervisor used to be close friends, but you have lost track of each other and you aren't sure what he'll be like as a supervisor. Rate the following courses of action from 10 to 1, 10 being most effective, 1 being most counterproductive.

a ) Invite your new supervisor to go out for a lum; make it clear how much you disliked the last supervisor's work
b ) Volunteer for a heavier workload to demonstrate your commitment
c ) Discuss the strengths and weaknesses of your old and new supervisors with your coworkers
d ) Draw up a transition memo highlighting weaknesses of the old supervisor's approach and making recommendations for your new supervisor
e ) Make an appointment for an open-ended transition meeting with your new supervisor
f ) Show up unannounced at your new supervisor's office with a pair of Tenloss Ambassador ripper revolvers strapped on, surrender said guns when patted down, and approach your new supervisor informally

"Hey, Sarge."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge lifted his head from his display as he looked to the lift to see [member="Jorus Merrill"] walking down the hall towards him. News traveled fast. Head a surprisingly small target between his impressive shoulderguards. The left one was blocked by what appeared to be a shield bent at the waist, clearly designed for deflecting melee blows from the joint. It was, however, only on the left.

It also sported the Protectorate logo.

A smile split the mans scarred features, Centurion having not been kind to his ability to remain looking his age. His neck had scar tissue that made it look like tree bark, and frankly that bothered him so much it's why he had a gorget on the armor. Also, decapitation wasn't a fun thing to experience.

Or so he'd figured.

Not that anyone could actually tell him if it was or not.

"Jorus. How can I help you?" He asks, leaning forward and closing down his data feed to get a look at the man who'd just gotten himself relieved of his weapons.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

Sarge's scars and armor came as no surprise, at least not intellectually. Before Rave died -- well, no, what she'd done was worse and more permanent than death, but 'died' came close enough -- he's caught the edge of Centurion and its aftermath. He'd spent that time mapping in Wild Space and coordinating the Underground; that, and staying one step ahead of the Sith operatives that somehow knew he was one of two people who could directly access the most dangerous holocrons ever made or captured by the Jedi. From secret troves to superweapon plans, his head wasn't a safe place any more than his company was.

"Figured I should fish or cut bait." The door shut behind him, and he looped his thumbs in his empty gunbelt. "Just can't decide which. Matter of figuring out where I'd make the biggest dent. Say what you will about Thirty-Six, and I've said plenty about that cold cheap fether, he pulled back the old crowd. Makes me wonder what's next for them, you, me -- I've got too many options and too few reasons to go with any one of'em. Reasons that're thought through, anyway. I'm looking for perspective."

 

[Uriel]

"Brother-Sergeant Uriel," nodded the Inquisition initiate as Uriel stepped off the turbolift, carrying a small box in his hands.

"Brother Malifax. Is the Lord Inquisitor available? I have a delivery for him."

"He's currently seeing someone in his new office, brother."

Uriel nodded, then balanced his cargo in one hand for a moment, unsealing his helmet and letting it sit on the mag-lock on his left hip. Better to be able to breathe some pure air, rather than the stuff he had recycled in his suit after the breath mask filtered it. It was a nice change. Hulking in his azure powered armour, the Brother-Sergeant cut a wonderfully wide figure.

As he approached the door, he could hear voices conversing about... something, he wasn't about to eavesdrop on the Lord Inquisitor. However, Uriel was silent, holding the box and standing quietly by so the conversation could happen and he wouldn't intrude on it. That was just downright rude.

They'd probably hear his mechanical footsteps or see his face poking about anyway.

[member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge gave his old friend a considering look, wondering exactly what the man wanted in that moment. That was how their relationship had worked in recent memory. Friendly distance that was crossed when something was needed from the other. Polite. Cordial. Distant, but not aloof. A palm came to rest on the desk as he considered the man's words. "What kind of perspective are we talking here...? And on what?" He adds.

A frown creased his features, but he wasn't unhappy. Judging by the way his brow furrowed, that was his inquisitive look (no pun intended.) Although, that still wasn't saying a whole. A low thud of heavy footfalls outside the closed doors told him [member="Uriel"] was here, but the Sergeant could wait. Jorus was here, and so Jorus had his undivided attention.

His black eyes took in the man before him, trying to get a good read on his old friend. Jorus knew metaphors weren't the mans strong suit, and Sarge knew Jorus had always been the more intelligent of them, but that didn't stop them from getting along. Just gave a few translation difficulties.

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"On whether I'd be more useful here than elsewhere. I've done my time with the Jedi leadership and then some. There's a new Council coming together and I'm not on it. I'm half offended and half relieved, and all unemployed, so far as Jedi things go. I still run mapping expeditions for the Sanctum, but the war hasn't gotten out there. What I'm trying to figure out is what the Protectorate's going to look like, going forward, and if there's a spot for someone like me. Institutions change with the people in'em, and I'm no prophet."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Sarge cast his gaze to the side, mind running as he thought this through. Things happened quick for the Protectors, it seemed, and now he knew what it was like on the other side of the divide. A strange feeling. One he wasn't sure he liked. Or maybe he did and it just put a bit of anxiety in him that it was so. "I need you here, Jorus." He admits honestly, figuring he wouldn't much change his ways now.

Blunt, brutal honesty. "The Republic is in shambles, the Jedi can't get their heads out of their own arses and I've got the Fringe on one side, the ACA on another and the One Sith knocking their way through to the North." He shakes his head. "No, no I need you here. I need someone who knows their way around a warzone; more importantly, I need someone who knows their way around the underworld."

A hand rose to scratch at the side of his nose, impressive bulk relaxing back into the throne as he folded his hands in his lap. "You have a knack for rallying the common folk, and we're going to need them before this is all over. I'm hoping it doesn't come to that, and if it doesn't so much the better. If they can contribute, I want them here. Artistically, medically, whatever. I don't care.

I want the best and brightest. I want them to want to be here. I want us to be strong again, so that the galaxy has somewhere well and truly safe from the oppression of Sith. All Sith, not just the ones who wear the titles. I don't want the Dark Side taking root here, Jorus. I want our lands to retain their unspoiled beauty. There's a lot of evil in this galaxy, Jorus, and someone has to man the wall.

Someone like you. Someone like me.

Because behind that wall is progress. We need progress. And for that, Jorus, old friend... I'll need you."

Straight from the heart; like everything he did.

 

[Lina Djo]

Gone were the dirty, patched up spacer clothes, replaced with the smartest clothes that Aella owned - dark jeans, worn militray grade boots - stolen from a bounty - and a tank top. that was about as smart as it got. She could have gone all out with a red dress but that wasn't real, that was a cover. This was real...

Almost. The fact that her entire appearance was a lie, was neither here nor there, she was a shi'do, this was as real as it got off her home world. She stepped off the turbo lift and paused in the hallway, unsure of where to go next, uncomfortable with the exposure and the eyes that were naturally drawn towards her. Her hands dropped to her thighs, thumbs running along the czerka headbangers that resided there. They offered little comfort here.

It took here a few moments to move from outside the turbolift, but when she did move, it was with purpose and confidence. Frist impressions took seven secnds to make and could take centuries to undo. She wanted this to be a good impression, after all, in this galaxy what you knew was unimportant. It was who you knew that kept money in your account and a roof over your head.

"Excuse me," she caught the receptionists eye. The woman gave a tight smile to indicate she was listening. "I'm looking for work, i was told to come her." Without a word, woman waved her towards the waiting area. Aella scowled, but took a seat nonetheless.

[member="Jorus Merrill"] [member="Sarge Potteiger"] [member="Uriel"]

 

[Uriel]

By this point, the receoption had guided [member="Aella"] upstairs, to where the Lord Inquisitor was having his meeting with the unknowns. She'd be guided back into the turbolift to head up to the top floor of the building, where she would be met by a man with very imposing blue powered armour; frisked and searched, asked to remove her weapons - obviously he was still heavily armed with bolt pistol and force sword - and then led down the hallway.

Further down she'd find a similarly armed man, standing outside the office of the Lord Inquisitor clutching a box under his arm. His helmet was magnetically locked to his thigh and on his weathered face, he seemed to be rather pensive for something.

Fortunately, for whatever reason, they'd decided to inform the Brother-Sergeant of the woman's coming, likely because he was the guardian to the door belonging to the man who now ran the entire Protectorate, even in the interim.

"Yes?" Uriel asked, brown eyes staring down at Aella. "I understand you're looking for work."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]


"I can do progress. My trains are all over your space, for one. What do you need?"

Normally he'd be the one running his mouth, and Sarge would grunt and toss out a pithy one-liner. Today? Today Sarge sounded exactly like Ayden Cater, and Jorus found himself getting taciturn in response.

Every Ayden needed a Sarge, after all. He toyed with that thought for a moment, pleased by the symmetry but not sure if he wanted to accept it. Say what he might about Cater, the Hat of Corellia had been a harsh taskmaster in his way, or at least Jorus had gleaned enough of Sarge's past to assume that. And the end result was sitting across the desk from him, wearing half a ton of durasteel. It wasn't just institutions that changed men.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

"I can give you a more detailed answer once I've had time to get the lay of things. I've been off on my own for quite some time so just... picking things up like this means I've got a lot of information to sift through in a short amount of time." Clearing his throat for a moment, although it wasn't to waste time, he furrowed his brow. "I find words failing me, but I saw you on Naboo, obviously. You had your Force Users rallied."

There was a firm nod. "I want that. I want Force Users to want to come here. Not because we're going to make them fight, but because they want to just... be. I want Jedi Temples - real Jedi Temples - filled with Jedi who would lay down arms before letting a Sith murder a child. I want Jal Shey mystics and everything else that isn't Dark Side related. The Protectorate has long been the military of the galaxy.

We've got the biggest guns, well designed ships, exceptionally trained soldiers. But [member="Cira"] was onto something and I think [member="Ayden Cater"] was too when they put culture at the front. We've focused on the military for awhile now. The galaxy is rough. But I want to focus on the people a bit more. I... don't identify with people very well. So in affect, I guess I'm asking you to help advise me on things, specifically things I know little of. Force Users and their traditions, the common people. Smugglers. You know where I'm going with this.

Be me for me. Provide, well, perspective. Do your thing. Be where you're needed. I won't stop you. You've a good head on your shoulders. Once I've had time to settle into the job, get a bead on what's what... maybe I can give you a better answer. One that's actually helpful. But until then, perhaps that will do."

There was a pause. "Did you officially resign yet or not? Word through the grapevine is unreliable, and I'd rather ask you than bring up a file."

His head lifted, hearing a familiar voice outside. "And it would seem my men are here. Have you met the Inquisition...?"

A faint gleam appeared in Sarge's lightless eyes.

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Now that," Jorus said slowly, "isn't what I expected. A capship command, or a writ to drive a hyperlane from Eriadu to the Death Wind Corridor, or feth, I don't know -- this is a little more, well, self-aware than what I expected to hear. And it's a job I can do. Feth, I can say yes right now, and not worry that my other responsibilities will suffer for it. So yeah, I'll do it. I processed my resignation from the ODF naval reserve right after the droid made his throne. Frankly, I'm a little fuzzy on what that does to seniority if you're calling me back to a commission, but that's a side note. I'd imagine you've got all manner of institutional nooks and crannies for someone like me, maybe things that, uh..." He gestured at the armor. "Didn't exist as such when I was aboard. All I know about the Inquisition is through my sister, and you could say her lens was a little foggy. Talk at me."

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

The man gave a tired smile at his old friend. "Jorus, say what you will about me, but I've always been a good judge of character. To be one, though, you do need some semblance of self awareness." Giving a nod, he leaned forward again. "I won't tell you much beyond propoganda, because I haven't swept this for bugs yet - I've had people do it, but I haven't yet - but essentially... well, after the debacle at Coruscant..."

And Cira dying.

"...well, I realized then that we had no means of combating the Sith effectively. We had the bolters from when we first formed, but that was about it. We were still susceptible to their corruption. Still unable to combat their lightsabers. We couldn't fight sithspawn very well. So I made the Inquisition in what could probably be termed a rage. Powered armor was the name of the game. Bolters were upgraded.

Training was harsher. The mind became a fortress. Armored in contempt and wielding hatred, these soldiers would form a bulwark against the darkness. And they've done that. Brother Sergeant Uriel outside is one such individual. Most have been pulled from the Protectorate military, records wiped and then they went through the sort of training only I could deem humane."

His lips pulled into a tight smile. "We aren't a secret anymore. At least not at a high level. We're still generally a myth to the common folk. Our goal is simple; keep away the Sith and Vong. We're the Force Users that the Jedi could never be with a backup of Non-Sensitives that only the Protectorate could procure. If the Protectorate would be encapsulated in an organization, it would be us.

Brutal. Efficient. Secretive. We were fairly hard line until the Protectorate was clear, but we've stepped from that a bit as things have calmed and our borders have become secure.

You'll likely be working with them from time to time. Any assistance you can render to them, you will."

He paused. "Frankly, I could restore your commission, but... before I do, I'll give you another offer. Join the Inquisition. Help me keep an eye on the Force Using population. I want them educated, so that we don't have to worry about them succumbing to the temptation of the Dark Side. I will warn you, however, that to accept this offer means you aren't leaving any time soon, and you will likely die in the armor we forge for you.

Should you decline," he shrugs, "that's acceptable. I expect it. But if you wish to accept, you'll be able to do what I've always done. Move about the Protectorate, doing what you want, when you want. No questions asked. Loyalty is the price. But, accept or decline, I could use your help in building our flagship. I imagine if anyone besides Ayden has the head for it... it would be you."

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

 

[Lina Djo]

Aella tilted her head slightly looking up at the armoured man, for a moment she said nothing, she simply drank in the hunk of metal before her. She heard low voices inside the office, a tingling sensation ran through her mind. Force users. She smiled slightly settling her full attention on the metal hulk.

"I am." She responded simply before realising that it was likely that more information was required. "I'm Aella."

[member="Uriel"]

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Sarge Potteiger"]

"Sarge," said Jorus, almost gently, "I've got a wife and kid. The armor life isn't for me." That, and I've shanked enough Atrisians that the word 'Inquisitor' gives me hives, he didn't say.

After a long moment, he settled into the chair. "Otherwise, it sounds like a good gig. I'm more than willing to help with the flagship design, though I'm not half the shipwright my wife is, and [member="Alna Merrill"] doesn't consult for just anyone these days. I'd even, say, run an academy for you in Theed if I wasn't on the go so much. Feena Mason could do it; Her Majesty's lightweight as all feth, by all accounts, but she's got staying power, and there's worse ideas than having a healer in charge. Gives you somewhere to put the homebodies, and a base of operations for the mobile folks like Kerrigan and me. And you know as well as I do that opening a guaranteed safe spot on Naboo, even if it makes Theed a target, is going to have massive draw. The Jedi temples are all either compromised or insignificant. There's rumors of something starting up on Yavin Four again, but that's half a galaxy away.

"Yeah, you make a temple here on Naboo, make it secure, defiantly secure, and make it open to all Jedi and Light Side Force orders -- you do that, you send messages you definitely want to send. Tells the Sith you can stand up to them, tells the Jedi you're bigger than politics, tells the fringe Force order they're as much of a priority as the Jedi, tells Naboo they're pretty fething important in the grand scheme of things, tells your population that the militarism and the harsh armor isn't as unremitting and overbearing as they might be starting to feel.

"If you really want Omega space to be a hub for this stuff, I can probably even get you a few Jedi Library Cards -- quantum ansible headsets with unsliceable audio-only limited access to every major Jedi holocron ever, and a good chunk of the lesser ones. Expensive as all feth, but totally untraceable. The actual holocrons, most of'em, are stealthed and Force-nulled about fifty to a hundred thousand light-years outside the galaxy. Only me and Kiskla Grayson had the quantum-hardlinked comms to call'em back, and the Sith took her at Manaan. So I went out with someone I trust and we changed the codes, locked the Grandmaster out of the system. With the new Council coming in, I'm getting replaced as holocron security chief. Doesn't sit well, but I can deal, and the point is this: the new one owes me for getting her any access at all.

"So bottom line, yeah, I can help, there's options. I can probably set up what you want set up. I'll talk to Mason -- or heck, Sarge, I can ask Cira once she's feeling up to having visitors. What a job that'd be for her. I'd like to see her, y'know," he said absently, still thinking. "We were never close, but we did an awful lot of things together, I designed her ship...I mean, I worked with Ayden, but when I was in full service, she was the Lady Protector -- she was the Protectorate. Meant something to me, maybe still does. Not sure she'd remember me, I just wouldn't mind saying hello. And she really would be a solid choice. My sister...well, she wouldn't mind me saying it now, I guess. She was Vongshaped, and never did manage to shake it off, not all the way. I saw what she went through, what it took out of her, and hers was voluntary. Running an academy could be a good solid retirement package for Cira once she's out of hospital, and the symbolism's downright perfect."

Maybe taciturn had just been the mood of the moment; maybe it had just taken him this long to get comfortable with the new Sarge.

 

[Uriel]

One such humanely-trained Inquisitor was standing outside the office. Ask anyone and he was one of the best damn soldiers serving in the Inquisition. After all, he had drawn the eye of the Lord Inquisitor for a reason... mostly sheer luck, really. That, and a fanatical zeal for doing his job and just enough mental scarring to have overcome the harshest training in the Galaxy.

Right now, however, the Brother-Sergeant was doing something he hadn't expected to: hiring newcomers. With the Lord Inquisitor now in charge, Uriel supposed that his job description was about to expand dramatically.

Hopefully it came with better pay.

"I see. I am Uriel," said the soldier, nodding, hand onhis chin. He would've offered a hand to shake, but a six-times-empowered grip meant he would shatter every bone in her hand purely by accident. Best not to.

"What are your specialities? What can you do? Tell me why we should hire you, and what we should do with you. A sales pitch of sorts," he asked [member="Aella"]. This was so different.

Also, a voice in Uriel's head was warning him about the sudden potential of a Jedi Temple on Naboo, and that he should stop that happening. Probably because a fat green Gungan was going to ruin that for everyone else, or something. Damn Gungans.

 

[Lina Djo]

Aella considered the question the inquisitor fired at her carefully. What was her speciality? In truth, Aella skills were basic, but she excelled at one thing. "I am shi'do." she said with a shrug "I can change my appearance at will. Ideal for infiltration. My combat skills are basic. I know enough to stand my own ground, but i wouldn't consider myself a soldier."

Emphasizing the truth, and making her greater points seem better than they were was not her forte. "I am a student of the force also. Where you put me, is up to your Lord Inquisitor."

 

[Uriel]

At the mere mention of 'student of the Force' from [member="Aella"]'s lips, Uriel's eyes glazed over. Yes, it would be a choice for the Lord Inquisitor - because Uriel didn't trust Force-users beyond his lord and master. And with good reason: one, because they alone were responsible for more cataclysms than every non-Force government or evil conquerors in the Galaxy and two, Uriel was trained to kill them. Needless to say, he wasn't a fan.

"Yes. I am afraid that will be a choice for the Lord Inquisitor," Uriel said, a hint of steel in his voice. "Your position is far beyond my paygrade."

Well, not true. He was in many respects almost the equal to a standard Captain, despite merely being a Sergeant, but the power-plays and importance of the Inquisition was not relevant to this discussion.

The soldier stood straight, drawing up to his fully-armoured height, then moved to the door, allowing his footsteps to draw just enough attention so that [member="Sarge Potteiger"] would know that he was wanted.

 

[Sarge Potteiger]

Sarge smiled at Jorus. "I believe, Jorus, you just asked me to make a Fortress-Monastery. In which case, I have something to show you at some point. I can most definitely make a secure Temple on Naboo. I'll drop a message to [member="Feena Mason"], let her know what's coming down the pipe. You get me those Library Cards - funding won't be a problem - and I'll make sure the Inquisition makes it nigh impossible to get within a hundred meters of eye sight of that Temple."

Jorus. The man with a plan.

Always a man with a plan.

"And... I'll let you know when [member="Cira"] is feeling better. She's... well, she's a bit too back to normal." Whatever that meant. "But once she's good enough for visitors I'll put you at the top of the list to see her. Best I can do for the time being." His attention was drawn to heavy boots outside. "It would seem Uriel has grown quite tired of waiting, which means something important has come up that he can't deal with."

He gave a nod of his head to his old friend. "This is going to be quite the ride until someone new is put in charge. Until the next time, old friend."

There was a pause. "Introduce yourself to Uriel on your way out, and consider yourself reinstated; I'll need your wife and you by the sound of things."

[member="Jorus Merrill"]
[member="Aella"]