Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Public Laekia Homecoming

The galaxy had been around for a very long time, but there was so much of it that seemed to be forgotten in the drive for glory and the ‘greater fight.’ The beings who were a part of the Levantine Sanctum in the past were still there, quiet, and hidden, but ever present, ever ready to assist those who needed them, and provide what was needed, to get someone to helping themselves.

The ones out here lived by the teach-a-man-to-fish mentality. Worlds along the Rim and in Wild Space had to be capable of standing on their own, but had to be aware that there was help out there for them. Among their peers.

And thats what brought them coming back to Laekia. The once-and-current capital of the Sanctum, the world was a lush planet, and with the Ruling Nine Families, kept under the security it needed, a world of trade, and tourism, the latter was a recent resurgence.

Its what brought Coren Starchaser back, well that and the chance meeting with Jorus Q. Merrill Jorus Q. Merrill and Julius Sedaire Julius Sedaire , and then running into Delila Castillon Delila Castillon . A rental of a hangar, with many of the ships back here, as Kaia had run off with the Dawn Chaser out a bit further, Coren was working on fixing up some of his other ships in planetary gravity.

The Tachyon Rising and his Rassilon fighter were there, the other two were the ones that were his focus, his old Preybird, and the ShortFin, the shuttle-gunship he was hoping to use to do some run around in. Music lead by some strings and definitely some brass was filling the air around the hangar in Lavorn. He was making sure to keep this area clean, should Celeste Rigel Celeste Rigel come by, or the twins… Who else was he expecting?

OOC: Designed to be a slice of life on Laekia, or around the Levantine old stomping grounds. Lets tell some stories.
 
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"Hey dad," a familiar voice would chirp.

Kyra appeared around a shipping container, bouncing a pair of keys in her hands. The 20-something had been without a ship of her own for half a year now-- ever since Trextan had pulled her out of a certain hairy situation. It wasn't her fault the slaving opportunists had taken down the last ship Coren had built for her. He was certainly making her pay for it now.

"Are you suuuure you need this back?" She held the keys just out of his reach, a hopeful look puckering the bottom of her lip.

Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser
 
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|| O-O-H Child ~ The Five Starships

"O-o-h child, things are gonna get easier~" the soft hum of the song would bring about a small tapping of fingers along to the beat along Chloe's datapad. Within its contents, the young Warden would briefly glance over the information Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser had sent her regarding last points of contact and interests from decades past during the height of the Sanctum days.

She stood outside of the Aurora Hawk’s ramp amidst a pile of cargo containers full of basic necessities and scanning equipment. She’d sent word to Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker and Choli Vyn Choli Vyn regarding Laekia. They’ve heard of the Levantine Sanctum from the Corellian Warden’s stories, but this would be a world she hasn’t yet mention. If they were free to come, she more than welcomed their assistance. It would also do them some good to get a few connections on this side of the galaxy in case anything ever went sideways.

And it most certainly always did.

For now, if they wanted to set up Laekia as a home base, they first had to survey and reconnaissance the area. Make sure it was safe and perhaps to discover what had changed since the last time they were here.

“Ooh child, things'll get brighter…” Chloe joyfully sang in a soft voice, joining the song being projected by the ships speakers, the bustle of people around her growing louder as more who heard the call made their way to the former Sanctum stronghold.
 
Vooltroo was interested in what these Levantines could be doing again. Born and raised on Ithor, the engineer had not been a participant of the Sanctum, having lived in the Republic and then became a runaway during the Sith Occupation of the Core, there was many more things that were needing an Ithorian healer. Vooltroo even kept his head down during the Sullust Alliance, coming out of his hiding and exile during the Scar Worlds and Forerunner era.

Word on the spacewaves were that the Levantines were creating a free space again, moving ships and equipment to help war torn worlds, and those lost by providing a place for them to coalesce and find themselves. The Herdsman had taken his small ship, more of a mobile research lab, full of greenery to the world of Laekia, where the rumors laced the Sanctum.

Stepping from his ship, the aged Ithorian used his cane, a small hound from Ithor at his hip, and his probe droid which was designed to both provide translation into Basic, and to record what he had seen. Laekia was a world where other Ithorians were present, along with many Mon Calamari. It could be an interesting planet to, if a botany term was to be forgiven, put down roots.

For the short term at least.

(OOC: looking for anyone who wants to science or botany)
 
While Coren had only been on Laekia for a short while, the ones who knew he was here were his family, and the close friends, the ones who were waving their Levantine Sanctum flags again. It was a good feeling, but one thing he was noticing, is he had a few jobs that needed doing. And it meant that he needed some pilots.

His personal ships weren't for sale and very few people he had that he was willing to let fly them, but with the positions re-established on Laekia, and the needed to do some errands, he had a few Niathal shuttles. Nothing glorious but it was a design from Silk, it meant great mapping and engines.

But while he was adjusting the upgrade on the shield to his Preybird fighter, he heard a voice that made him roll his eyes. Frak, she is just like her mother.

"Well, yeah… its a loaner here… I can give you another job if you'd like that?"

Kyra Perl Kyra Perl
 
Trextan Voidstalker caught sight of Coren and Kyra on his way to the Aurura Hawk. It was a ship he had recognised. A place he had started to learn about the other paths he could take.

For someone who had always been forced down a path, it had been life changing.

"Chloe?" he called out.

She was singing. It immediately made him uncomfortable. His dad liked to sing. Trextan did not.

The Levantine Sanctum was well before his time. He was quite interested to hear anything about the history behind it.

The cycle of war would continue, but Trextan wouldn't help to turn that wheel any more.
 
A joyful smile would curve upward for the gregarious Warden at the sound of her name, head perking up as she paused her singing.

“Ol'val, Trextan!” She sang in a tone of pleasure, setting her datapad down on top of the cargo rate to turn towards him.

“I’m glad you are here.” Warmth radiated from her expression, her blue gaze peering over Trextan from head to toe as if to determine for herself. She caught his grimace but was aware that the young man had his own quirks. Seeing his gaze flick toward the Aurora Hawk’s speakers, with its music filling the air, she had an inkling what got his britches in a bunch.

You’re lookin like a sight for sore eyes,” she teased, hooking her thumbs into her pockets while shinning a friendly smile to her Warden trainee. Very few knew that Chloe was a Warden. She held to the traditional values. This allowed her to monitor the Hydian Way without issue. If needed, she could always reveal what she was if it was deemed necessary.

How was the trip?” She asked because the Vere had a tendency to make folk question its survivability, but Chloe knew Choli was a reliable mechanic and held her together just fine.

Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker
 
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LAVORN — CAPITAL CITY — PORT DISTRICT

Even a notorious boar could blend in on Laekia. Whiphids were not a plentiful people, not even on their homeworld of Toola. On Laekia there were millions. Velok the Youngest, Velok the Exile, Velok called Brokentusk, plied his trade here in virtual anonymity.

Right across from the hangar, he'd set up his raggedy traveling booth and bubbling cauldron, scaled to a being of his prodigious bulk. The comparably scaled sign read:

FORTUNES FORECAST
LUCKY CHARMS

He'd picked a good location. Lots of ships coming in today.

Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Kyra Perl Kyra Perl Vooltroo Vooltroo Chloe Blake Chloe Blake Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker
 
"Well, yeah… its a loaner here… I can give you another job if you'd like that?"

Krya groaned.

"Still? Dad come on, it's been months now." And yet no matter how she tried to spin it, Coren wouldn't budge. The fight died into acceptance quicker this time. They had done this rodeo before.

"Fine," she begrudged. "But I want an allowance with this one-- fuel doesn't come cheap." Neither did her steady diet of huttaburger, but that wasn't the point. She gave the rented hanger a glance over, then sighed.

"I'm guessing you want help setting the place up?"

Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser
 
Still? Still.

Coren had given the other kids their first starter ship, an A-Wing of his own modification to Kaia, an old Clawcraft to Jared. A freighter to Kyra. And of the three kids? Well, one knew how to keep their ships in one piece. Jared did lose his Clawcraft defending others in combat and replaced it with an E-Wing, and got himself a surplus shuttle that he was modifying, and sure, maybe Kyra did lose her ship to stop slavers.

Or so she said.

And Trextan said.

Maybe Jacen's kid was there, and well, he was an old war buddy's son, but it was Kyra Perl. Emphasis on the Perl.

Thanks Joza Perl Joza Perl .

"You take a job I have for you and we'll fuel it up. But you're gonna need to … wait, you want to help clean this place up too?" He tipped his head to the side. "Both jobs?"

Maybe if she did, he'd have space to work on a ship for her, if she got him the parts. And the hull. And sat still enough to help.

Kyra Perl Kyra Perl
 
Lavorn – Capital City – Port District

Over the cauldron hiss of broiling fats, stewing ingredient waifs, and acrid herbal castoffs, a pair of well-worn deci-cred vouchers tumbled through air and a curtain of pale steam. To land on a point on Velok's nail-marked booth counter-top and roll to a stop against the Whipid's trunk-thick and eminently hairy wrist.

"Anything in the augurs today?"

The voice was an accented baritone and it came through the vapour and heat-haze bubbling and murmuring off the stocky cauldron set against the cracked pavement. Nicholas Volk, by most description, appeared nondescript; average height, fair, humanoid, perhaps wide at the shoulders and a touch corded in the limbs, less bulk and more muscle-wire, brown eyes, dark hair, not quite handsome and then not wholly unsightly. He was dressed in patched fatigues, olive khakis tucked into scuffed black boots, a blue-white striped servicemen's shirt, and a jean-coloured bill-cap pulled over his brow and hiding most of eyes and nose. An aged Outback revolver transformed into a stock-carbine hung from one shoulder by buckled leather, the other shoulder humped the weight of a repaired infantry duffle bag bulging with packed necessities. He had a hand gripped to a wide, tarped trolley clinking with cast-metal.

He rolled his tongue, pushing aside a half-chewed toothpick. Oils and greases stained the length of Nicholas' hands and wrists, and he stunk of machine unguents, coolant, and faint ozone.

"I'm trying to piece together a few things today. I wouldn't mind a hint, if all's going to go well or not," He said.

Velok Brokentusk Velok Brokentusk
 
Velok snapped up Nicholas Volk Nicholas Volk 's two cents. The spacelanes were full of tattered hominid veterans down on their luck, and this transaction was a familiar one.

"A sliver of prophet worm," he said. A withered sausage analogue and a jen'itsukut butcher knife flickered out. The blade thunked on the stall's counter. Velok made knife and preserved worm disappear, then placed the tiny slice of dried meat on his tongue.

"And," he added, "for visions and good fortune, the Sith crematory ash of Malachor."

This was not the full breath of ashes ritual, but not far off either. Gray ash puffed up above the counter. Velok breathed deep; Volk could breathe if he liked, and see what he might.

"I see long silent roads," said Velok. "I see a tarnished diadem twisting on a chain. I see a sky with three moons behind smoke. I hear the snarl of an empty stomach. I see a human woman with black hair and no pity in her smile. The omens are excellent."
 
Both jobs? Yes, both jobs. Coren needed a work space, and if Kyra really wanted a ship, she was going to have to earn it this time. He didn't have a problem fixing a ship up for her, but he wanted the cost to be fronted by her work. Either a job, or assisting him.

But it seemed like she may have as much of Joza as him in her.

"I mean, giving me a place to work can let me work on ships faster…" He grinned as he looked around the yard. To call this an organized hangar was a lie. It was a yard, with two fighters and two ships in it. Maybe one of each ready to go. But those were the antique ships.

That Rassilon he scored off of Silk and Jorus Q. Merrill Jorus Q. Merrill was a wonderful ship.

"Tell you want. I think I can send you on a delivery with Chloe Blake. See if Trextan wants to go. I have some supplies I need run out to Trian… Food stuffs and a few other odds and ends… What do you say?"

With that, Coren put his tools down, in a chaotic pile of items, and motioned for Kyra. "Lets go find her, I can hear her music." Never a bad thing, to have music playing. Coren had his datapad with the manifest in it, as he followed the music.

"Chloe, can I interrupt?"

Kyra Perl Kyra Perl
Chloe Blake Chloe Blake
Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker
 
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“Ol'val, Trextan!” She sang in a tone of pleasure, setting her datapad down on top of the cargo rate to turn towards him.

"Hey chloe," Trextan called back.

He offered a grin, but was never as open with warm and friendly greetings. Trextan placed both hands on the cargo container - artificial and organic.

You’re lookin like a sight for sore eyes,” she teased, hooking her thumbs into her pockets while shinning a friendly smile to her Warden trainee.
"I...er...yeah..." he went. Trextan had just come to understand that he just needed to go with the flow when it came to Chloe. She had a lot of wisdom to share and had set him on a different path.

How was the trip?”

"I made it," Trextan replied. He was not a fan of space flight. A necessary evil.

"So how have you been?"

"Chloe, can I interrupt?"

Trextan glanced at Coren, his gaze passing on to Kyra and back.

"Hey," he went. He turned and hopped onto the cargo crate. His boots didn't quite touch the floor with his backside perched on the edge of the crate.
 
Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Kyra Perl Kyra Perl Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker

Corellian cornflower blue eyes would twinkle in mirth at Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker 's terse responses. He was still the same, if a bit more relaxed than when she saw him last. Choli warned her not to make audible mention of the similarities between Trextan and Jacen, but blood would tell.

It was the same when Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser appeared with a young lady in tow. She shared an expression at Trextan's direction that they'll continue their catch-up later. Curiosity and a genuine, inviting smile shone in the newcomers direction, the blonde picking up her datapad again to turn down the music a few decibels.

7953d870cd791e1212e8309e48fefb3853cedd6f.gif


"Hey there, Coren. You lookin' swell. What can I do for you?" She sang her voice a sweet drawl full of warmth.

"Ol'val. Names Chloe," she began, extending her free hand towards Kyra.
 
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“Better than clean up duty,” she relented, following her father out. Her feet scuffed on the hanger floor, a simple pair of boots tucked into cargo pants that carried nothing but her hands in their pockets.

She shot Trextan a woeful look, but that gloom couldn't help but to turn into a smile as Chloe's hand extended toward her. "Kyra." She shook and pulled back, mirroring Trextan as she pulled herself onto the top of an opposite crate.

They both sat high and removed from the conversation. She swung her feet and read the text on the crate underneath her.

Coren Starchaser Coren Starchaser Chloe Blake Chloe Blake Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker
 
The one thing about Starchaser was he was always a bit of an odd Jedi. Too war-crazy in war times, and just a go-at-it-your-own-way when it wasn't war time. Like Jorus and Chloe, he was much more a Warden than a Jedi, but just as a public face, he was a Wayseeker, odd and out there. A sentinel in specialization, but when the going was fine, he was just trying to be mellow and have a good time where he was. Made life a lot easier.

Looking at Kyra, he just shook his head. "Trust me, I always took the high adrenaline jobs too. But when you get to be my age sometimes it's the quieter ones where you learn more." Especially patience.

To Coren, Chloe always seemed to be the mellow-mood type of Warden, and would be one of the best to toss Kyra with. Especially since Kyra could easily become a brat about these jobs. Maybe the right kind of job and person to fly with would be the right thing.

Before answering Chloe, he nodded to Trextan. "Hey Trex." He knew better than to ask about Jacen. But his old war buddy was probably sure to turn up to the space retirement home some day.

"Doing well, yeah. Glad to see you got my message about getting out here. Just a nice place to sit and operate from a bit. Was wondering if you're free for a job? Kyra has a manifest to do a delivery a few sectors away, in Trian. Foodstuffs, and reconnecting with one of the more remote systems, to see if they're still Sanctum aligned. Kyra could serve as a pilot or navigator?"
Plus he figured they'd all go crazy sitting still for too long.

"Plus with all the traffic out that way for the Rings of the Rapture...Can't hurt to have extra hands."

Chloe Blake Chloe Blake Kyra Perl Kyra Perl Trextan Voidstalker Trextan Voidstalker
 
Theme

The Bezharl translated into real space just upon Laekia. A shuttle disembarked from it, rickety but reliable looking. As it descended to it's bay, one could see a long figure wander down the ramp before it closed up and took back off. Said figure turned, watching the craft turn into a speck as it ascended. The Bezharl had been given over to the Green Jedi, as he had always intended. The young man turned, his Corellian style longcoat and Bloodstripe trousers about two decades too late for fashionable, and a look in his eyes that were almost hollow and held more than their fair share of weary wisdom that was beyond his years.

Tapping at a chin until recently was covered in silver-white hair, he looked about, closing his eyes. The Force found his friends easy enough, his senses grown since last, and he walked past an occupied Whipid, noting that he wasn't in a hurry now, and turned to stop at Velok Brokentusk Velok Brokentusk 's stall as he shifted the pack held over his shoulder. He was in the wind again, free. He had tried for the umpteenth time to stand and be a proper Jedi. There was a time he was one, after all. And Marasun would be confounded at his pupil going so far astray.

Smiling in the rare easy way of a man who has seen Hell and spat in the Devil's face, he plopped down a handful of currency. More than asked, but not as if he were trying to be an ingratiating git that wished to buy a good fortune.

"Tell me what you see friend... I'm on a trip and curious where the road leads..."
 
"Hey Trex."

"Hey," Trextan replied politely. "And er, hi from Dad."

Dad was a relatively new development. Trextan had been raised by a step-father for much of his life, but he had started to make progress with his relationship with Jacen.

"Plus with all the traffic out that way for the Rings of the Rapture...Can't hurt to have extra hands."

Trextan looked towards Kyra. He raised a quizzical eyebrow to see if she would give a hint about her feelings on the proposal.

"What are the rings of rapture?" Trextan asked quietly. He didn't want to interrupt the flow of the conversation.
 

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