The Parliament
Wearing: Morpheus Chitin
Armed with: SynthBreaker
Objective: Initiate general force studies class
Laertia stared at the gift Clan Li-Ves had sent her.
It was in a Glasteel display, Silvery and Ornate. She knew the Phrik by its sheen: Enough Assassins had blocked her sabers with it over the years. Most of what money she had stored or saved went to medical treatments, ship upkeep. Cortosis Weave Durasteel was what she had managed to afford in most cases for Armor. Never Phrik.
Laertia was not used to such resources, even amongst the Marksmen, there had been an upper ceiling on the budget and what they could afford to field. Most of their best equipment had been stolen from the enemy. The really valueble stuff had always been sold to pay for more practical matters.
Getting a full suit of Phrik was, to say the least, not a normal day for Laertia. It even looked knightly, like something out of a museum. Laertia picked up the datapad containing its technical properties and her eyes widened.
Whoever this Nine Lives her new Sister Westenra served was, she was brilliant. Laertia knew she wasn't a military scientist: There was too much Artisan in their approach.
And not just brilliant in the scientific sense: Westenra pledging herself as Laertia's adopted sister provided an actual incentive for Laertia to stay and remain loyal: She suspected they knew how immense Laertia's desire for a stable family was. How much Westenra pledging herself in that manner would utterly melt Laertia's heart, make her disregard any risk in being associated with such a secretive Royal House as long as she got one of the aspects of a family she had always craved: a Sister.
She wasn't here currently. Neither was her Android caretaker, who for nearly 007 years had served as a mother in all but name for the brain damaged knight. Both had their own assignments. Hers was one she had not attempted in a long time.
She was going to teach a class on one of her bread and butter abilities...Force Resistance
The Force had always had a strange sense of humor with her. She could not use it to run or jump, but she could use it for near instant traversal. She could not use it to directly attack in most cases, but she could force her attackers to slow down. She was both highly resistant to The Force and able to suppress it in others. Her strength could Force a Wookiee to their knees. In other words, the perfect kind of Force Adept to kill other Force Adepts, as The Light Side Sith Lord Darth Themis had altered her at birth to be. Laertia felt ill knowing what had been done to her.
Of the many revelations she had experienced, the knowledge that one of her idols, Moya De Lifte, A famed Jedi Master from The Gulag Plague, was actually the Sith in question, had been among the most disturbing. It had upended every assumption she had ever had about life, and even about Moya.
Had the Scaled Scholar deliberately left Moya for her to inherit? Laertia did not believe in coincidence. For the first time, though she deeply loved the Android like a parent, she found herself once more privately wary. Privately wondering.
But it did no good to dwell. Until The Amalgam was slain, This did not end. Her past would not end.
Laertia delicately opened the case, clad in the black bodyglove she wore and hit a release switch under the armored collar.
The armor parted open and Laertia glimpsed high quality machinery before sliding into it. The Armor sealed and Laertia felt a pleasant vibration in her brain as the armor hud system activated, processing the environment.
She was not at risk of Migraines in this armor at all. It had been years since she had been this combat capable.
Laertia moved around. It was almost effortless. No pain. No risk of pain. She almost cried out of joy.
Laertia, to say the least, was enthusiastic about teaching a class as she left her Dynamic Class Freighter for the large training chamber in the Silver Rest. The Ornate, silvery, yet oddly somber and sinister looking armor drew stares as she clanked into the building, completely headache free.
Once inside she spotted a number of students were there already.
Now came the hard part. Her Speech Impediment. It had always embarrassed the hell out of her. But she would bear it for the sake of teaching.
"Umm...Hi! Myy naymez Io. Laertia Io."
(Clip of Bond Theme Plays)
"Iy'llz bee yorr teechurr on Foyce Suppreshunn Tuhdayz. Dhis artt iz uzed tuh pruhvent othuh Adeptz frumz uzingz dheir powah. Anny Kwesschunz?" Laertia asked, her happy, enthusiastic voice at odds with her armor look. It was a very strange juxtaposition.
Laertia was red faced from embarrassment at speaking. Most of her enemies never took her serious once they heard her speak. It had been a source of frustration her whole life and there were days where Laertia would give up the Force forever for just one day of speaking normal.
But she wasn't here to be normal. Neither were the students.
Caden Evesa
Armed with: SynthBreaker
Objective: Initiate general force studies class
Laertia stared at the gift Clan Li-Ves had sent her.
It was in a Glasteel display, Silvery and Ornate. She knew the Phrik by its sheen: Enough Assassins had blocked her sabers with it over the years. Most of what money she had stored or saved went to medical treatments, ship upkeep. Cortosis Weave Durasteel was what she had managed to afford in most cases for Armor. Never Phrik.
Laertia was not used to such resources, even amongst the Marksmen, there had been an upper ceiling on the budget and what they could afford to field. Most of their best equipment had been stolen from the enemy. The really valueble stuff had always been sold to pay for more practical matters.
Getting a full suit of Phrik was, to say the least, not a normal day for Laertia. It even looked knightly, like something out of a museum. Laertia picked up the datapad containing its technical properties and her eyes widened.
Whoever this Nine Lives her new Sister Westenra served was, she was brilliant. Laertia knew she wasn't a military scientist: There was too much Artisan in their approach.
And not just brilliant in the scientific sense: Westenra pledging herself as Laertia's adopted sister provided an actual incentive for Laertia to stay and remain loyal: She suspected they knew how immense Laertia's desire for a stable family was. How much Westenra pledging herself in that manner would utterly melt Laertia's heart, make her disregard any risk in being associated with such a secretive Royal House as long as she got one of the aspects of a family she had always craved: a Sister.
She wasn't here currently. Neither was her Android caretaker, who for nearly 007 years had served as a mother in all but name for the brain damaged knight. Both had their own assignments. Hers was one she had not attempted in a long time.
She was going to teach a class on one of her bread and butter abilities...Force Resistance
The Force had always had a strange sense of humor with her. She could not use it to run or jump, but she could use it for near instant traversal. She could not use it to directly attack in most cases, but she could force her attackers to slow down. She was both highly resistant to The Force and able to suppress it in others. Her strength could Force a Wookiee to their knees. In other words, the perfect kind of Force Adept to kill other Force Adepts, as The Light Side Sith Lord Darth Themis had altered her at birth to be. Laertia felt ill knowing what had been done to her.
Of the many revelations she had experienced, the knowledge that one of her idols, Moya De Lifte, A famed Jedi Master from The Gulag Plague, was actually the Sith in question, had been among the most disturbing. It had upended every assumption she had ever had about life, and even about Moya.
Had the Scaled Scholar deliberately left Moya for her to inherit? Laertia did not believe in coincidence. For the first time, though she deeply loved the Android like a parent, she found herself once more privately wary. Privately wondering.
But it did no good to dwell. Until The Amalgam was slain, This did not end. Her past would not end.
Laertia delicately opened the case, clad in the black bodyglove she wore and hit a release switch under the armored collar.
The armor parted open and Laertia glimpsed high quality machinery before sliding into it. The Armor sealed and Laertia felt a pleasant vibration in her brain as the armor hud system activated, processing the environment.
She was not at risk of Migraines in this armor at all. It had been years since she had been this combat capable.
Laertia moved around. It was almost effortless. No pain. No risk of pain. She almost cried out of joy.
Laertia, to say the least, was enthusiastic about teaching a class as she left her Dynamic Class Freighter for the large training chamber in the Silver Rest. The Ornate, silvery, yet oddly somber and sinister looking armor drew stares as she clanked into the building, completely headache free.
Once inside she spotted a number of students were there already.
Now came the hard part. Her Speech Impediment. It had always embarrassed the hell out of her. But she would bear it for the sake of teaching.
"Umm...Hi! Myy naymez Io. Laertia Io."
(Clip of Bond Theme Plays)
"Iy'llz bee yorr teechurr on Foyce Suppreshunn Tuhdayz. Dhis artt iz uzed tuh pruhvent othuh Adeptz frumz uzingz dheir powah. Anny Kwesschunz?" Laertia asked, her happy, enthusiastic voice at odds with her armor look. It was a very strange juxtaposition.
Laertia was red faced from embarrassment at speaking. Most of her enemies never took her serious once they heard her speak. It had been a source of frustration her whole life and there were days where Laertia would give up the Force forever for just one day of speaking normal.
But she wasn't here to be normal. Neither were the students.
