Nathan Bloodscrawl
House Bloodscrawl Patriarch
Wearing: Interceptor Gear
Armed With: Nathan's Saberstaff
With:
Moya Virtu
Currently aboard: Derelict Luxury Station
Climate control was a constant crisis aboard this station. Even with Nathan and Moya bringing in scavenged supplies whenever possible, they were just two people trying to fix whole kilometers of non essential electrical systems, with what few Utility Droids they could restore to function. A work force was needed but there was no one to trust.
At least they had gotten the damn shower working in the former owner's master bedroom, after hours of cleaning and sterilizing with industrial grade solvents.
Unfortunately, it was the only shower they had gotten working, meaning they had to take turns. Nathan went second this time, scrubbing quickly with cheap shampoo through his hair and cheaper soap before exiting the shower and dressing in a gray t-shirt, black sweatpants, and floppy sandals and went out to the barely restored kitchen, poured himself some cheap cereal normally sold to children (He innately despised the colorful marshmallow pieces mixed in with already sugary corn based cereal. At least, he THOUGHT they were marshmallows.).
He heard Moya enter the run down barely functional office.
"Please tell me you remembered that plasma torch I needed to cut through that sealed door on deck two." Nathan grumbled as she walked in. He was never happy to see her. Moya, for her part, thought he could barely tolerate being around her, blaming her in part for the disaster his daughter had become. He wasn't exactly incorrect about this, in Moya's opinion.
He seemed to be more tightly wound than Laertia had ever been, Moya thought to herself as she walked in wearing her old dress. Never any idle talk. No chit chat. Never anything personal. Never anything that made him less of an enigma. She didn't even know if his current name was his real one or a crude alias.
"Yes. Did you remember to make the synth crystals I asked for?" Moya asked right back as she placed the plasma torch pack on a counter in the kitchen.
"Yeah..." he muttered, not looking her direction as he pointed at the pouch on the broken table.
"Good..." she said. "Now get dressed. We're going to Susefvi..."
Nathan bothered to look up at last. "Why there?"
"To talk business. There is a Jensaarai who needs advice on a Dark Side shrine. A shrine made by The Cult.
Nathan finished his cereal, not saying anything. Then he headed to his room, also not saying anything.
When he came back out, he was in his typical pitch black biker leathers, armed with his saberstaff.
"Let's go." Was all he said, brushing past her in the hangar, grabbing the synth crystals.
Moya sighed. Not even curious. His hatred for the Cult was intense, visceral. He could barely talk about them without the glint of murder entering his eyes.
Present...
They had arrived to the peaceful looking world in an old Venture Class Star Galleon Moya had purchased ages prior, run by a Skeleton crew consisting of the odd pair, teamed up only by guilt and the need to defeat and destroy their own daughter and the Cult she was master of.
Little did they know, walking to the Jensaarai Enclave, that they would soon have a run in with
Draco Miles
, who had been assigned to retrieve the shrine contents for House Io...
Armed With: Nathan's Saberstaff
With:

Currently aboard: Derelict Luxury Station
Climate control was a constant crisis aboard this station. Even with Nathan and Moya bringing in scavenged supplies whenever possible, they were just two people trying to fix whole kilometers of non essential electrical systems, with what few Utility Droids they could restore to function. A work force was needed but there was no one to trust.
At least they had gotten the damn shower working in the former owner's master bedroom, after hours of cleaning and sterilizing with industrial grade solvents.
Unfortunately, it was the only shower they had gotten working, meaning they had to take turns. Nathan went second this time, scrubbing quickly with cheap shampoo through his hair and cheaper soap before exiting the shower and dressing in a gray t-shirt, black sweatpants, and floppy sandals and went out to the barely restored kitchen, poured himself some cheap cereal normally sold to children (He innately despised the colorful marshmallow pieces mixed in with already sugary corn based cereal. At least, he THOUGHT they were marshmallows.).
He heard Moya enter the run down barely functional office.
"Please tell me you remembered that plasma torch I needed to cut through that sealed door on deck two." Nathan grumbled as she walked in. He was never happy to see her. Moya, for her part, thought he could barely tolerate being around her, blaming her in part for the disaster his daughter had become. He wasn't exactly incorrect about this, in Moya's opinion.
He seemed to be more tightly wound than Laertia had ever been, Moya thought to herself as she walked in wearing her old dress. Never any idle talk. No chit chat. Never anything personal. Never anything that made him less of an enigma. She didn't even know if his current name was his real one or a crude alias.
"Yes. Did you remember to make the synth crystals I asked for?" Moya asked right back as she placed the plasma torch pack on a counter in the kitchen.
"Yeah..." he muttered, not looking her direction as he pointed at the pouch on the broken table.
"Good..." she said. "Now get dressed. We're going to Susefvi..."
Nathan bothered to look up at last. "Why there?"
"To talk business. There is a Jensaarai who needs advice on a Dark Side shrine. A shrine made by The Cult.
Nathan finished his cereal, not saying anything. Then he headed to his room, also not saying anything.
When he came back out, he was in his typical pitch black biker leathers, armed with his saberstaff.
"Let's go." Was all he said, brushing past her in the hangar, grabbing the synth crystals.
Moya sighed. Not even curious. His hatred for the Cult was intense, visceral. He could barely talk about them without the glint of murder entering his eyes.
Present...
They had arrived to the peaceful looking world in an old Venture Class Star Galleon Moya had purchased ages prior, run by a Skeleton crew consisting of the odd pair, teamed up only by guilt and the need to defeat and destroy their own daughter and the Cult she was master of.
Little did they know, walking to the Jensaarai Enclave, that they would soon have a run in with

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