Private Out with the old? As if

[Jenn Kryze]

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| Location | Kestri, Tor Valum
| Objective | Report in.
| Focus | Vren Rook

Jenn was still reeling from the cascade of bantha chit she found herself buried under.

So many elements of her life were spinning completely out of her control. The woman she loved... aptly pointed out that she might as well be gone from her life, with how little time they spent together. Her best friend, for all of her kindness, was still a key figure in the enemy command structure, and she would undoubtedly join the Galactic Alliance in their strike within Mandalorian space as retaliation for their own raid - and she had come bearing grave news in person, informing the smith of her true potential, a nature she had been blind to for all this time. And then, as if the revelation that she was Force Sensitive was not quite enough to shatter her worldview, she found an old friend of hers alive and well, in spite of the news of her death. An old friend that fell back into old habits and joined with the Sith.

It was too much for her, and all happening in so little time. Sooner or later, something would give, and everything would come crashing down. More than ever, her people needed her to be patient, calm, a voice of wisdom amidst a time of turmoil and war... a difficult proposition when she felt such turmoil in her heart. How could one weather such a storm and remain the same? Would she recognize herself by the time this war came to an end?

Where does this armor stop and where does flesh begin?

For now, she still had a duty to fulfill. As far as she was concerned, the Karjr had proven to be far less confrontational with her choice to abandon the Crusade than the Si'kayha, and she vastly preferred the company of those who kept the Enclave and its people safe to that of the glory hounds that landed her and the rest of her kin into this hopeless war to begin with. The Guildmaster was worthy of her respect, as was the Warmaster - but she shared no history with the former, whereas the latter had no reason to hold her fondly into his heart. She had, after all, insulted his foundlings before him, a long time ago... and with her habit to speak truly, no matter the consequences, she knew they would butt heads if he ever cared to ask her opinion.

Jenn still had a report to give concerning her mission, and so she knocked on the door leading to Vren's office. She had never been one to delegate.

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[Vren Rook]

TAG: Jenn Kryze
GEAR: In Bio

SOUL OF A MAN​

How was he still Guildmaster?

Vren was sitting behind his desk, head in his hands as datapads lay strewn before him with bounty data on them, forgotten. These small moments of solitude was dangerous lately. As long as he was dealing with other people, his mind didn't run rampant. But the moment he stopped and had a quiet moment, the demons crawled out to plague him.

His life was unravelling before his eyes and he could only watch.

It had all started when Tawnita Wren ran out on him two decades ago. He now knew why, but it hadn't been an easy road since her departure. When he finally thought that he had retired and had a good thing going on Tatooine, first Kayl Krayt and then Kranak Vizsla showed up on his porch, each with their own requests. The moment Kranak had coaxed him back to Enclave after the retirement of Volo as Guildmaster, things have started to spiral again.

He had finally reached his last thread of sanity at the Assembly with the shocking discovery that he had a son. He was used to Tawnita's ways. In their disjointed way, they loved one another. She always was a free spirit however. It hadn't been the first time she had took off in a fit of cold feet. This time, however, it had come with an extra surprise. She had left without telling him that he was to be a father.

He was yet to speak to Veshok Rook , though he would have to face that demon soon. He still hadn't come to terms with it all. In all his time in the Galaxy, he had wanted to be a father. But things hadn't exactly worked out. So he had settled with being a father to a nation. Had seen young Foundlings grow up and become strong warriors in their own right. He had been with most of them every step of the way. But when the moment came to be a true father to one, it had been robbed from him by the woman he loves.

He dragged his fingers through his hair. How he was able to deal with all his demons while also leading the Enclave, he didn't know. He was scraping the barrel for that resolve to remain the foundation that the Enclave needed to go forward in its time of strife.

A knock came from his door.

Speaking of which...

He pulled himself together, straightening some of the datapads on the desk to at least look like he wasn't falling apart.

He cleared his throat. "Come in."

 

[Jenn Kryze]

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| Location | Kestri, Tor Valum. The Guildmaster's Office.
| Objective | Report in.
| Focus | Vren Rook

Jenn opened the door and stepped inside as soon as she was given permission, walking on over to the Guildmaster's desk - and when she stopped, she turned her buy'ce to face him properly, bringing a closed first over her heart and tapping over her beskar'gam lightly. "Guildmaster, sir." She had never been any kind of soldier, no matter how proudly she regarded her skills as a warrior: such things were better left to the Si'kayha. After all, she knew what she was, and although she could follow orders without complaint, the many years she had spent without meeting another of her Clan granted her a certain measure of freedom she had no desire to let go of just yet.

Or... ever, frankly. As far as she knew, she might just be the last of her Clan, and none had claimed the mantle of Alor.

As soon as her eyes came to rest on the man before her, however, she found herself wondering if she should mention her earlier meeting with Veshok Rook. Although she had never met Vren in person before, and she highly doubted he even had the time nor the care to learn of a humble Kayatr'ade such as herself... did he not have the right to be informed of new arrivals carrying his name?

In the end, she chose not to. She was here on official business, and so she ignored how her Force Sense tried to distract her - her powers were still nascent and uncontrolled, and she had no desire to rely on them until she learned to better control them. Perhaps the sense of weariness she felt from him was nothing more than a fluke. Clearing her throat, she lowered her fist right back down along her side, and spoke once more.

"I came here to inform you personally that I partially fulfilled my orders during the boarding of the Ans Corvo. Senator Natasi Fortan is now in our custody, although the second target managed to escape."

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[Vren Rook]

TAG: Jenn Kryze
GEAR: In Bio

SOUL OF A MAN​

"Guildmaster, sir."

He suppressed a sigh. Was his title that formal?
"Please, call me Vren." he told her with a warm half-smile. Though he knew who she was and respected her, they hadn't exactly gotten past the point of official business only.

Which is why she was here now as well it seemed.

"I came here to inform you personally that I partially fulfilled my orders during the boarding of the Ans Corvo. Senator Natasi Fortan is now in our custody, although the second target managed to escape."

Vren sat back, mulling over what she had just said.
"That could pose a problem, depending on how much stock the Senate puts on its senators." he finally said. "It's best we interrogate her sooner rather than later." He leaned forward. "You did well getting at least one, however. Because she's your catch, I think it would be good if you took the lead on the interrogation. But don't be alone. Take at least one other Mando'ad with you."

He was silent for a few heartbeats. Then he got to his feet.
"Perhaps you have done it before, but I have to caution you. Politicians are notoriously soft or they do their best to manipulate themselves out of a situation. Some have even been quite stubborn. Don't lose resolve or patience. But let her know that she isn't in a Jedi cell here - she's a prisoner of Mandalorians. If you get nowhere, fear often makes people talk." he then told her, resting his fingers on the desk top.

He watched her closely, noting some strain around the eyes. It probably mirrored his own. The battle had been hard on many. From his own experience, he knew the toll a space assault could take on someone.

"Are you sound enough for this task, Kryze?"

 

[Jenn Kryze]

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| Location | Kestri, Tor Valum. The Guildmaster's Office.
| Objective | Report in.

There was... a moment of hesitation when the Guildmaster let out a sigh, and asked her to address him by his name instead. Evidently, the smith was taken aback by the request- and, realizing a little belatedly that she was addressing him with her helmet still on, whereas his own features were bare. Not one to let such an imbalance stand, the Ersansyr brought her hands towards her buy'ce, removing it with that characteristic hiss of depressurization. Holding it under her arm, she met his gaze, inhaling deeply through the gills at the side of her neck. If anything, her expression was firm, comparable to that of a soldier standing at attention. But the weariness in her eyes mirrored his own.

To her credit, she listened intently to his words, making an effort to calculate how best to approach the delicate subject. It was only when he asked her a direct question that she dared answer, the rigidity she had about her somewhat... chipped away at. "I believe I am, Guildmaster, Si- Vren. Senator Fortan spoke rather derisively of our ways during the boarding in an attempt to distract me, and she seems to have nothing but scorn for us. You know the type - thinks we're only a bunch of barbarians." Judging by her soured expression, Jenn was hardly pleased with the notion of talking to her again, especially without the needs of combat forcing her to disregard her words and focus on apprehending her. "I believe some of our more... sanguine vode would lose their patience too quickly to make any sort of meaningful progress. I will take another with me as you suggested, and, if needed, I will use fear, but I have no intention of acting like a butcher."

There was a firmness to her voice, those grey eyes of hers meeting his own as she affirmed herself beyond a loyal and professional member of the Mando'ade. And then, silence, as she visibly struggled to look for the right words, before eventually giving up - opting for honesty.

"At the risk of overstepping, Vren... there is a question I have been meaning to ask you. Irrelevant to my report."

The smith looked almost painfully hesitant.

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Vren Rook ​