Private The Raucous Sands

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Investigate //
// Focus // // Hasuras Na-Gerra //

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A hand pulled the head cover tighter as the winds continued to buffet her with the sands of Korriban, a grimace on the face of it's lonely patron. The Sith could have chosen a better planet to call their homeworld, the miserable pale dot amongst the stars appealed very little to the Echani and yet there was a reason for her to be hear.

Before her awakening, the Empire had fought against the Sith, and a charge of their Order sought to destroy their superweapon. The tale had been regarded to her by her mistress, Quinn Varanin, and in it had been a character of some significance.

Hasuras Na-Gerra.

Some boisterous mountain of a Sith by all accounts, yet one that didn't fall under the Sith Order. He had been an ally to the Princess of Eshan during the battle on the Death Star III, but that friendship was far from guaranteed. The fact that he was a pirate did little to quell the Echani's worry that he may play a threat to the sanctity that Quinn hoped to create in the Sith Order, yet it was in his territory that she found herself.

This was to be a social call, first and foremost. A meeting between two of their kind for a simple introduction and pleasantries. At least the message she had sent forward proclaimed it as such, though she came without any offerings.

Appeasing the ego of such a figure may have been the best way to go, but not conducive for what she had in mind. The reality of this meeting was a test. To discover just how enslaved by his whims the Sith Lord truly was, and if the fire of Vahl may ever scorch her charge.

A sandstone temple greeted her against the dreary background of a sand torn planet, it's grandeur painting it beautifully against the pale background in a way it's colour did not. Her eyes failed to see the top as the sandstorm raged, but that mattered little compared to it's entrance. She would not wait to be greeted before making entrance herself, pulling down the sandstained cloak as trusses of white hair hung messily in front of her face.

"I am here to see the Lord of Korriban, tell your liege to not keep me waiting."

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

A ragged looking corsair leaned against the wall of the temple. She had an unsheathed Sith sword in scimitar style stuffed into a red sash and she picked at her fingernails with a dagger. She barely looked up as some horned queen walked up.

"Huh? Oh. You mean Gerra. Yeah. He's inside. Training in the courtyard."

She waved the dagger back behind her.

Past the atrium stood a wide enclosed courtyard, shielded by the sandstone of the temple from the glare of the system's star. In the courtyard, beside a weapons rack, Gerra squatted. The eight foot Vahlan held an orb of some dark metal with both arms and he held his squat. The orb was only a little larger than one of his fists, but sweat beaded the warlord's brow from the effort.

Eyes the color of embers swiveled to stare at Jorryn Fordyce as she entered. The Vahlan arched a brow.

"Yes?" the single word rumbled from him, a deep and rich bass.

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Investigate //
// Focus // // Hasuras Na-Gerra //

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The sand hopefully covered the sneer that crossed Jorryn's face as a knife casually pointed her in the direction she needed to go. It had hardly been the most impressive of greetings, some lowly brigand standing at the entrance of a temple dedicated to the Sith. She was never the defender of her faith, but something about this woman's presence felt sacrilegious.

She ignored the slight and moved past the woman without another word, deeming it beneath her to continue the discussion or give thanks. The woman didn't even have the proper respect to name her Lord by title.

A small thought crept along the edges of her mind about what kind of ship this Lord of the Sith was running where his soldiers named him so casually. Perhaps he wasn't the grand figure she had been led to believe.

That musing was shattered quickly as the Echani entered the courtyard, the sight of a titan catching her amber gaze before anything else.

Almost anything else.

Unintentionally, her eyes fell to the deepness of the man's squat, falling perhaps a touch too low. They averted themselves before the man noticed hopefully, meeting his fiery gaze with her own, arms folded across her chest as she regarded the man.

"Hasuras Na-Gerra, I presume?" The tone feigned disinterest as she spoke, curious if apathy would rouse the man from his exercise. "I would hope a Sith Lord have more security than yourself, as well as an interest in a good impression."

The words tempted provocation as much as her body language did, though the disinterest was feigned her lack of impression on his soldiers was not. She had been led to believe she would be talking to a true child of Vahla, not some behemoth of a man without any sense for grandeur.

But as her eyes crawled across the room, she managed to surmise his interests lay inwards. This was a temple for certain, though perhaps one dedicated to the man's form compared to his status. It had paid off, by the looks of him. A towering mass of a Sith, standing almost three foot taller than she did. Weapons lined the room in a grand display tapestries and painting might decorate any other.

A lip betrayed some interest as she caught upon weapons she didn't recognise, though once again obfuscated by her objection to the welcome she received.

Perhaps provoking the man would prove more interesting.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

“What need have I for the dithering thoughts of scheming waifs and their impressions?”

The Vahlan stood up, holding the orb close to his chest with one hand, the strain obvious in the way cords stood like ropes in his forearm. He wore only loose fitting trousers of red and cloth shoes. Hardly the effect most of the Sith put on, with their spiked armor and an overabundance of bone motifs.

“Who are you?” He rumbled with a frown, eyeing the horned woman up and down. She had the look of the Echani, but for her horns. A slim thing.

“I did not send for a girl.”

No, she was no common Sith. He felt a power in her unlike the average denizens of this place, where did but tarry while refitting his ships. She would like as not be cross with the remark. Little did he care. She opened dialogue with insult, so then let the batteries fly. Gerra cared little.

Jorryn Fordyce

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Investigate //
// Focus // // Hasuras Na-Gerra //

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An unimpressed look crossed the brow of the Echani as a hand fell upon her cocked hip, staring daggers as the man compared her to a waif and a common harlot. The insults washed across the earth, breaking against her ears as her temper began to rise.

She allowed the gaze to rise up and down her figure unobscured, whatever barbarism infected this man at least hadn't deprived him of taste.

"If you were the kind of man that could summon a woman like myself, then I might have heard your name across the wind instead of whispers." Arrogance rolled off her tongue to meet Gerra's in equal measure, finding a match in the woman. She was not so diplomatic as to allow common insults. "If anything, I might call upon you to move my furniture and replace my seat with your hands and knees."

The imagery was meant to provoke more than threaten, truthfully she couldn't imagine even attempting to battle the creature in front of her. He stood five heads above her and his thighs measured a girth that could wrap around her waist, but there was more to conflict than force.

"I am the High Lady Jorryn Fordyce, handmaiden to the wayward Princess of Eshan, Quinn Varanin." The titles fell easily, not quite as long as most Sith appeared to enjoy. "I believe you are familiar, Consort?"

The Echani had clearly heard of the man's marriage to the Queen of Hapes, and no title of King would pour from her soft lips. Instead only poison rolled forth as she spoke, the earlier insult clearly affecting her more than hers had on the Vahla.

"I have come to take your measure, Lord, and to see what you represent here in the fringes of the Galaxy."

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

“Hmm,” he mused, no flicker of rage but rather mirth kindling in his eyes which shone like twin born suns. “No, I have not heard of thee.”

Gerra rolled a shoulder and tossed the metal orb up only to catch it again.

“But then I do not make purpose to learn the names of those who’d serve to fist the Crown Princess. Ah. Or was it the hand?”

An amused grin split the features of the shirtless Vahlan. Too long had it been since he’d had contest with words with one who did not look like a many horned Krayt. Though Jorryn was not the first to jest that she would claim him as some fashion of slave.

“Perhaps you seek too large a seat.”

He tossed her the orb with a flick of his arm. Fashioned of pure polished neuranium, it weighed half as much as Gerra despite its size.

Jorryn Fordyce

 

[Jorryn Fordyce]

// Lady Jorryn Fordyce //
// Objective // Investigate //
// Focus // // Hasuras Na-Gerra //

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The Echani watched as the man juggled his little trinket, and as the muscles strained upon catching it. Whatever the thing was, it had been heavier than it appeared.

"Handmaiden..." She chewed the words as her eyes flit back towards the man. "And I'll ensure you remember mine, for one reason or another."

Then the man tossed the orb towards her, but she didn't seek to amuse the man by trying to match his ability. Instead fingers barely lifted from her arm in an attempt to pause the ball, but its weight was even greater than she anticipated. She stepped out of it's path instead, allowing the orb to fall with a crash to the floor below.

"And what do you seek from tossing me a ball?" Her eyes stayed affixed to the orb, hiding the impressiveness at its weight in a glance away from the Vahla. "Did you expect some pet to go chase it? I am no more a mutt than you are a throne, My Lord."

As the expression cleared she turned back to the Vahlan warlord, an eyebrow cocked as she was curious what the gesture had meant.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

“And yet you bark so well.”

The Vahlan stared at her, lips split in a broad grin. For lo, she did amuse him. Most Sith and their prattling did, until it served more annoyance than mirth.

“Come, dispense with games. Have you no other purpose than to look upon me, little horned doggie?”

Gerra chuckled and his laughter was a booming thing. He spread his hands, arms wide.

“Here am I.”

Quinn Varanin