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Navigating Echoes of the Past (Quietus)

Imperial Research Faculty Adarna
Date of recorded message: 0400 Imperial Standard Time
Imperial Indent ; two of three part code

Intently it was frustrating to the Sith Lord that this minor setback was keeping him from his desired goal. To have only one part of a three piece coded transmission made it impossible for anyone person with only one of the disks to make out the location of Adarna. Less frustrating when he found the location of the other two disks. Disk tree was in the hands of a Crime Lord on Tattoine. Buying such a device was always possible for the right amount of credits. The tried was in a safe in the office of the Secretary of Intelligence’s safe. Breaking into the officials safe would be highly illegal but necessary.

Mos Eisley Cantina
Twin yellow orbs cascaded its glow down on Mos Eisley. It was a dry heat leaving the air parched. Just up ahead the Atrisian could see the local cantina. As much as he was thankful in the wisdom of choosing white robes with light blue embroidery he would be more thankful out of the scorching sun and in the shadows of a local bar.
“Vermin”, Garith slapping the small hand of a Jawa away from his tachi. A long sword (looks like a katana) and a smaller (looks like a wakizashi). Such an act was an insult to the man. Making the situation worse the Jawa smelt of bantha dung.
Saying something incoherent to Garith the sad little creature scuttled off into the crowed. Garith could care less what it was trying to say. He was just pleased for it to be gone. Over heated and thirsty made his way through the peddlers and vagabonds into the Mos Eisley Cantina.
Cool air mixed with smoke and the scent of alcohol. Descending the steps of the cantina he took a good look around. This was neither the place nor time to lower his guard. “One bottle of whisky and a glass”, Garith asked the bar tender after making it to the bar. He was going to be here for a short time waiting for the contact to show up. Who the Crime Lord would send Garith had no idea… nor did he know who he might meet in the mean time.


Hunting Again
"Ah, Mos Eisley, the uncontested armpit of the galaxy. To what do we owe the pleasure?" Darth Volden stood at the bottom of the ramp exiting Quietus' ship, The Blackthorne. He beamed painfully into the sun and were it not for his dark green robes the blond-haired, saffron-eyed Arkanian might've disappeared into the glare.

Avogwi eggs, the Beastia replied simply, though her means of communication were silenced along telepathic lines of the Force.

"Giant sentient birds," Volden remarked, white-gold eyebrows raised, "you mean to feed them to the skreev?"

I mean to supplant them in Iziz as guards for the Queen. They'll keep an eye on her when you cannot. You're to meet the Seller and trade him the crate in the back.

"What's in the crate?"

A drexl egg.

"I daresay you're getting the better end of the bargain."

I know I am.

"Where will you be if not intimidating the Seller?"

Getting a drink of course. Don't call for me unless you're about to die.

"Duly noted."

Quietus did not wear robes much anymore, and today was no different. The blistering sun of Tatooine did not offend the woman of the Onderonian wilds, in fact the heat felt good on her bronzed and tattooed skin. Onderon was in the middle of its wet season, so there had been little sun to speak of. In her leather and cloth trappings of the Beast People she looked only slightly out of place here in Mos Eisley, but this city was home to the grunge of the galaxy, so few people spared her a second glance. The woman did nothing to hide her presence nor did she do anything to announce it. As always, she was simply that blunt-force trauma presence in the Force, unmistakable for those who knew her and terribly obvious for those who didn't.

Sweat beading on her forehead and shoulders, sandaled feet carried her through the bustling roads and walkways, veering off-course at the sudden recognition of another presence in the Force. One she knew and had not chanced meet in a very, very long time.

She strode into the tavern, vibrant eyes landing upon the figure of Garith Darkhold bent over the bar, and grinned.

Garith, her mental voice punched at his thoughts, the feth are you wearing? White?
The presence within the Force he felt was most agreeable that Garith grind and tapped his glass on the bar…pointed at the glass with a finger…then raised a second finger hinting he needed a second glass. Chuckling at the mental words tossed his direction. “It is silk and white…far more suitable and pleasant to wear here in this god forsaken desert planet.”

Filling Quietus’s glass he contained the conversation, “So how is one of my most favorite peeps in this whole galaxy been doing?”


Hunting Again
Silk? White? Pleasant? Did you bed a Jedi again?

The Beastia eyed her friend dubiously but at the offer of a drink was convinced against her suspicion this strange change of character in the man might be contagious. At least he still had good taste in booze. The woman pulled out the stool next to him and took the seat as well as the drink.

The Garith I remember would have been happy to sweat it out. You must be getting old to be wanting for comforts, she smirked and downed the shot. A moment passed as she eyed him, his curious new wardrobe bringing out a look of distaste. Your daughter liked silk too so I made her burn it.

God how she hated that girl's ridiculous pink robes. She was ever so happy to see them drenched in the stains of Onderon and later used as kindling for torch light.
Filling both their glasses back up Garith laughed, “No I have not been bedding anyone.”

Taking a drink it was his turn to send a telepathic message to Quietus, ‘Publicly very few people know me by the name of Garith. I’m known as a noble from Artisia by the name of Togashi Yokuni. I’m here as a Artisisan seeking something that has been lost. the clothing is part of being nobilty. I can't play the part if I do not look the part'


Hunting Again
The mute gave an audible snort, which was a curious sound to hear coming from a woman who never made a peep.

I never knew you for someone to play production. Zaakeg in an china hutch is what you were, not some coy little actor baiting the galaxy with primp and faire. But I suppose we all need a change of scenery, eh?

Perhaps for some the change was more drastic than others. This... was fairly drastic, but Quietus wasn't one to be deterred by change. Adaptability was one of her strong suits.

Well, seeing as how no one can hear me if I don't want them to anyways, I'll just keep calling you Garith and you just keep on looking odd speaking to a woman who isn't speaking back. Like old times.

A sharp grin pulled at her lips, showing teeth and fangs as she once more emptied her glass and leaned an elbow against the bar, I've been busy ... and not. Apparently I'm not allowed to retire.
The truly odd part about all of this Garith had always closely guarded his true origins. For hundreds of years he used names that were never his named given from his parents at birth. Hundreds of years ago he was known as Garith Darkhold. Then he was a Sith, a Mandalorian, and a Imperial officer. He had hid his name of his birth while he was separated from his people. Once the borders of Artisia were open back up he had returned home and took his name once again. He was still the Zaakeg in the china hutch. He was still the very opinionated noble yet complicated man he was before. He was just adjusting to an old life he was separated from. “Retirement seems like just a fairy tale for people like you and I. A myth we keep on telling ourselves so we don’t burn everything to the ground around us. What are you doing in the near future? Care for a little adventure?”


Hunting Again
A coy smile took the woman's expression faintly as she looked the man before her over. If her memory served her right, Garith had always been good for an adventure.

Quietus picked up her glass and held it out to him, leaning towards the man with those green eyes glancing to his bottle, Keep filling this up and I'm all yours.

That was what peons were for, right? Send them to do you business so you could have some fun. Volden would surely be pleased ... if he didn't lose his head already.

@[member="Togashi Yokuni"]