TAG:
Tharil
|
Alberich Wren
| Open
It was down time.
Half the Enclave was out fighting against the Eternal Empire. Some of them had to stay behind to hold the fort. Protect their home. If it wasn't pirates, it was something else.
Bur for now, there was a breather.
It had been a day of hard training. Not even with sparring was any punches pulled. It had taken some extra elbow grease to get the scorch marks from her armour. But she had prevailed.
Lish had just kicked up her feet in the communal hall of the barracks, a mug of tihaar on the rocks in hand, when the door burst open, revealing an armoured Mando'ade with fanfare. Lish's own helm was lying next to her elbow on the little table next to her chair.
"Alright, someone explain to me how this all works. Who's in charge?"
A brow lofted on her exotic face.
"If you need a roadmap, Banshee, then you can find one three systems over with the droid-lovers. If you're looking for honour, on the other hand, then take a seat and a mug." Lish said, dark eyes regarding the energetic
Vod standing in the doorway while she gestured at a seat across from her own.
If the young one had the stones, then Lesha won't show her away. Weak links, however, would be thrown into the road and kicked on their way where the Si'kahya are concerned.
Only the best survived.