The Ren: Expedition to Lothal - The Crystal Quest

[Progflaw99]

--- --- ---​

Location: Space, Near Anoth​

Status: Standby​

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Quiet beeps sounded as the vessel's systems hummed. The ship wasn't new, and it certainly wasn't the fastest ship in the galaxy but that would have thrown flags all over the place. The cargo freighter was listed as "La Tortuga", a Barloz-class medium Freighter that had definitely seen better days. The systems had been upgraded in a patchwork, replacing systems as they failed so while some of the navigation equipment was up to date, much of the internal relays and electrical conduits were starting to wear thin. The original owners of "The Turtle" were no longer of concern, drifting in the cold vacuum of space. Seated at the main flight control panel was Castor Ren, his calculating gaze eyeing some of the system readouts. According to the established flight plan they were slightly behind schedule, they needed to get a move on. Reaching out before him, the Disciple of Ren input several quick commands before reaching for the internal comm system handset and keying up.

"We're behind schedule, are we prepared for the final jump to Lothal?"​

The Disciple had faith in his fellow Ren, over the past few weeks they'd shown they could handle themselves without constant guidance. He wondered idly if the Knights of Ren had felt the same way about himself when he'd first become a Disciple. It was likely. The transition from newly blooded Disciple to a near-knight had been a relatively easy road for himself, the arrogance of youth mostly already a thing of the past. Despite this, he had yet to face the final tests on his journey to become a fully fledged Knight of Ren. At first it had been a small itch at the back of Castor's mind, but over the last few months it had grown. Time and time again he began to see others rise to the status of Knight while he was yet a Disciple, guiding initiates and Disciples alike towards their ascension. He felt trapped and the feeling had only grown at the newest arrival of Disciples to the Bastion of Ren. Had he not proven his worth during the defense of the Bastion of Ren? Had he not shown initiative by guiding those around him? He cast aside the errant thoughts as he reminded himself of what the Order of Ren practiced, sacrifice of selfish gain. Taking a deep breath he awaited for the go ahead, that the rest of their party was ready for the jump to Lothal.

Lothal was currently under the sway of the Galactic Alliance, officially belonging to their... Alliance. As such, they'd had to take precautions, a roundabout route through unclaimed worlds and eventually a final jump into the Lothal system. The reason for the excursion had been made clear to the occupants of the freighter: Kyber Crystals. Primarily used in lightsaber construction, the crystals had a storied history. Castor had been sure to read through the archives at the Bastion to glean as much information as he could. According to the archives, Kyber crystals were inherently light sided and required a process of domination before they could be used by dark siders. He found it interesting that they had been tasked to go searching for the crystals when synthetic crystals had been in use for ages though Castor did not doubt there were important reasons for their journey. Perhaps this was just another test. It was true, the lessons at the Bastion had been centered around masking one's force presence, did they expect to run into Jedi? Perhaps this would be the catalyst that would push him into the spotlight, proving he was ready to become something more, or maybe it was simply a task that needed completing. Whatever the case, he relished the opportunity to leave First Order space.

As a Disciple of Ren, Castor had undergone training with many different weapons and not all Knights carried lightsabers depending on the job at hand but it was a nice backup to have and it did have its uses, even if Castor preferred a solid blade. It was one of the other things that had been eating away at him and reluctantly at first he'd decided it was time to create a lightsaber of his own. If they were able to locate crystals, perhaps he would be allowed to keep one for his own use.

Running a final check of the ship's systems before inputting their destination in the nav computer, the Disciple turned around in his seat and raised an eyebrow at anyone who may have accompanying him in the cockpit of the vessel, cracking an uncharacteristic smile.

​

"Ready to take a leap?"​

​

Spoiler

[member="Isla Ashen"] | [member="Anor Ren"]​

[member="Kriel Firin"] | [member="Greifen Ren"]​

[member="Iroatas"] | [member="Samka Derith"]​

[member="Viktor DuSang"] | [member="Misha Ren"]​

[member="Thresh Sken"] | [member="Perth Levov"]​

[member="Soleil Ishtar"] | [member="Darren Onyx"]​

[member="Morrison Jericho"] | [member="Kaz Praxon"]​

[member="Kyrel Ren"]​

OOC: Come one, come all. The Order of Ren is after Kyber Crystals. If you have any questions about the thread, feel free to PM me, if this garners enough response I can always start an OOC thread as well. Thanks!​

​

 

[Isla Ashen]

Ashen Ren stood at the back of the cockpit, so quiet and still that her presence may have gone unnoticed. Well, that would have been the case, if she had covered the crop of red hair that made her so recognizable. A mission to Lothal had called many of the Ren away from First Order space, and Isla was eager to stretch her legs. However, this day she did not wear the trappings of her Knighthood. Where there was normally a dark cloak, there sat only a small woolen mantle upon her shoulders. It certainly lacked the shadowy drama, but it did the job of keeping her warm. But like her everyday wardrobe, she had chosen dark colors that would help her meld into the darkness. Clothing that was unassuming, but woven with some shadowsilk to help with silent movement.

Isla had a small rucksack hanging on her back, filled with some rations and necessary supplies for the journey. A brown belt around her waist displayed a small assortment of knives, and a short sword. She never left home without her saber, but today it had been cleverly concealed at the small of her back, hiding beneath the fabric of her tunic. It was a weapon that she had come to cherish, and she relied heavily on the powerful crimson blade – perhaps too much. She still remembered traveling alone to the mountains of M’haeli to claim her own Dragite crystal. It was a strong source of power, but even she had to admit that it was not the most subtle. For the time, while they traveled without outward ties to the Ren, it would remain hidden – as would her force use.

It may have felt strange to some of the others to venture out with their powers concealed, but it reminded Isla of a simpler time. A ghost of a smile found her pale face, and emerald orbs slid closed. There were times when she missed running wild and free through the woods of Skye. Isla was tame now, but beneath the calm exterior, there was still a feral spirit.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of a familiar voice. Meeting the gaze of [member="Castor Ren"] as he turned in his chair, she considered his question. Was she ready to take a leap?

“Always.” She answered simply, letting the corners of her mouth pull upwards into a grin.

 

[WolfMortum]

Blood them early.

This was to be his first assignment outside of the Bastion of Ren on Virgilia, nor the Academy of Skye. To aid his superiors in acquiring precious resources for the further benefit of the Knights of Ren, the First Order. Seated, he remained quiet and observant of his peers. He had not been with them long, inexperienced compared to the majority of them and not yet having proven his usefulness; the Dirk sat sheathed sideways at the back of his waist, the lengthened dagger of steel enveloped in a black casing of leather protecting the blade from being dirtied before it's intended use. Whether or not this venture would require it's practice was anyone's guess though he had learned early on that it was always better to come carrying one and not need the blade, than to need it and have forsaken it. At his front, only to rival the brutal make of the steel weapon was the lightsaber that he had acquired in his return to Svivren before meeting with the First Order, a weapon of far more elegant design and unlike the dirk, the lightsaber would be the appropriate weapon should he run into a member of the Jedi Order he had heard rumored to be associated with the government who's sector of space they were venturing out into.

He was not yet familiar with the current game of snakes, the game of politics of the Galaxy. He had of course heard things within the Bastion though nothing discussed at great length, it did not really matter a great deal to him as it was not the Galactic Alliance nor any semblance of the former republic or any other fool notion of diplomacy that he served. Strength had been the lure to pull him back into a life that made sense and in that, the First Order had shown itself to be everything through the Knights of Ren and naturally their Supreme Leaders vision, spoken not through words but the actions of every member of their following.

Aside from his weapons, his field gear was to be left on the ship, traded temporarily for the civilian attire resembling more the common man than a disciple of Ren. Secrecy was important for this venture, the less noise they made the likely more they could return with them to virgilia. Crystals, that was their intended goal. Those used in lightsabers for the old and the new yet to come into the bastion. If he were fortunate enough, Brennan planned on acquiring one for himself, so that he would be able to trade in the golden blade for a vibrant and ominous crimson one, as was known to them.

Aspirations would not see them successful however, hopes were all well and good until you were there in the moment and had the courage and the pride to put action into your claim. To this reason, he continued to wait and mentally prepared himself for whatever needs his superiors had of him. Orders would be followed to the letter and if receiving none, he would improvise to aid them in any way he could.

[member="Castor Ren"] | [member="Isla Ashen"]

 

[Darth Veles]

Already accompanying the Supreme Leader’s agents suspiciously often, Darth Veles was a common sight to any Ren by now. Like a silent stalker, he shadowed them whenever there was something to be gained. The Mon Calamari did not believe in open sharing policy with the dark side sect he studied, preferring to keep to himself most of the time and taking mental notes regarding his temporary allies and their ways. From a certain perspective, he knew everything about them without revealing enough to be effectively used against him, never spoiling Sith secrets either. This practice manifested in a mutual wall of mistrust and suspicion, further reinforced by the Darth being an outside element. A non-human, he positively stood out among the mostly human-dominated knights of Ren, though he’d never consider himself an alien.

Even Veles’ attire differed from theirs, albeit not as drastically as his physical appearance, the same could be said about the respective ideologies. Nobody truly knew what he carried under that midnight-coloured cloak of his aside from two curved lightsaber hilts. Dark shadows cast upon his face by the robe’s hood hid much of his expression save for two fiery embers burning within. Both eyes inaudibly darted from one Ren to another as the Sith Lord’s creeping form emerged from behind in a way that suggested not an ally, but an enemy assassin sent to foil any and all plans against the Galactic Alliance. A short, reassuring nod found its way towards Isla Ashen, Veles’ “sweet friend”, and in what must have been a play of shadows appeared a subtle hint of a smile.

Maybe what appeared to be a Mon Calamari truly was just another of Veles’ tricks. The apparition produced no sounds, no trace of it in the Force either. Only a whiff of scented oils originating from the man’s cologne revealed the image to be real, truly standing right there, in their backs, motionless until the bald pilot posed a question, which provoked a slight turn of the large Mon Calamari head. Both amber daggers buried right into the man’s back of the neck.

“Of course.”

He said no more, clasping his hands behind his back. No justification or explanation detailing the assassin's presence, only more silence.



[member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Castor Ren"] [member="Brennan Cabrol"]

 

[Siriwook]

Siriwook thanks her ride to Lothal for dropping her off. A veteran navigator of the wilderness, Siriwook has decided she'll probably find the best crystals in unexplored areas of the spine tree forests, far enough from the temple to not have been disturbed but close enough to known deposits not to be a wild goose chase. Equipped with a medical kit, digging and other tools, a tree harness, a collapsible spherical tent, her trusty bow caster, and a desire to run and hide from nearly everything, Siriwook feels confident she'll be okay on her own. She's read up a bit on the flora and fauna, but, not knowing much of the wildlife in the area and not wanting to cause any unnecessary harm to animals, Siriwook spends her first hour setting up a blind to camp in and putting on camouflage. She finds Jogan fruit and decides that the fragrance may help cover her natural musk. Avoiding the sweet-smelling juice to keep insects away, she goes for the pungent leaves instead, mixing them into a mud fur coating and resulting in a more leafy smell.

She is sure to note the location of this blind on her map in case she gets confused later, but she is pretty certain she'll remember. She sits and expands her awareness of the force, singing to the crystals, hoping one of them in a nearby cave will announce itself to her. She sifts through the sensations of the forest, letting the animals and plants say their hellos. She radiates a calm of belonging and a lack of intent to harm, hoping the local fauna accept her into their territories. When she feels she can sense a general direction in which to begin her search, she descends the tree she's in and sets out to find it, full of hope.

 

[Jamie Pyne]

"The flowers here are magnificent!" Jamie exclaimed, kneeling beneath the vibrant hue of the golden sun above. The rays of light cast down over the prairie that looked outwards beyond the endless sea of flowers to a range of mountains, caves, and waterfalls just beyond. Quiet as it were she enjoyed the isolation and solitude, speaking aloud to herself was a means of relieving stress and composing her thoughts. Serenity away from the craziness of the Nabooian royal court, away from the stresses of training, and away from the pain of the rest of the galaxy.

Yes. Lothal was a good place to be. The place to be.

"The colors will make for wonderful headbands!" A bright smile adorned her face. "Perhaps even Aela will take to a more delicate appearance."

A tug at the wide brimmed sun hat hid away the blinding glare of the sun as she stood, small basket in hand whilst tucking away a stem with deep purple petals behind her ear. With the basket under arm, she began her trek out further, towards the mountain range and caves in the distance hoping to do a bit more exploring and collecting by the base of the range.

[member="Darth Veles"] | [member="Brennan Cabrol"] | [member="Isla Ashen"] | [member="Castor Ren"]

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

Desmond sat boredly in the flight tower. His only company was a large man who had affiliations with the NJO and he wasn't the talking type. Des was tasked by the SIS to take note of any suspicious ships coming in. He did random checks every once in awhile, but they all proved one thing. Lothal was dull. About as dull as the sageous Jedi who inhabited the place. Not even a fething bar! Desmond thought as he puffed away on his death stick. "I wish you wouldn't smoke that in here," The large man said tiredly. Des let out another stream of smoke then put the stick out on the flight console.

"You know you should try one," Des teased to the man.

"I will pass," He stated simply then went back to monitoring the flight console. Desmond let out a long sigh. The people here were all about their duty to the Jedi. Never a break for a moments fun. No way to blow off any steam. Ahh well. At least some of the jedi ain't bad looking. Unfortunately for Des that's all he got to do. Look. Couldn't have got a more boring post... "I'm gonna go do a few random sweeps," Des sighed again.

 

[Aela Talith]

Aela quietly rolled over in her bed, pulling up the blanket so that it covered her head and hid it from the light.

She and [member="Jamie Pyne"] had come to Lothal a few days ago as a sort of rest period. Over the last few weeks to the two of them had been rather busy, heading from Bastion to Dxun and then to Ossus had been...well all sorts of craziness. So it was at Jamie's suggestion that they had decided to take a little break, or at least act like it. Lothal was a calm, peaceful place. Aela had never been here, but once they had arrived...well some of the weight of what had happened to her lately had simply struck her, and thus she and her padawan had switched rolls.

Jamie had gotten out of bed early to go pick flowers, and Aela had decided to stay in bed.

It was an odd move for her, but well deserved.

Aela let out a yawn, wiggling slightly beneath the blankets and wrapping herself in a sort of cocoon. The room she was in had a rather light window which she had left open overnight, and thus the air was still rather cool. It was a pleasant contrast of sensations, and the Jedi Marshall found herself in a rather content state as she rolled herself in her blankets and went back to sleep.

At least for a little while.

 

[Samka Derith]

A girl gazed back at Sam. Her face was youthful yet corrupted. It was herself. She was facing her own scarlet eyes and pale skin. It wasn't often that she got to look at her own reflection, really look. She stood there blinking for a moment searching for any sign that the physical toll of the Dark Side was getting worse. It was already rare for her irises to take this colour instead of the traditional yellow, though not unheard of. It didn't bode well for her future appearance. So far there was no sign of blood vessels bursting to the surface nor the wrinkles and ugly skin blemishes. She didn't seem to be ageing, quite the opposite, she still looked younger than her already short years. Yet she couldn't help but worry. A wise man once said the power of the darkside is an illness no true Sith would ever wish to be cured of and while she was not a Sith, the premise of the statement applied to her and her order just as much. It was just... was it so vain of her to want to keep her natural looks?

She blinked several times at the reflection, focusing as strongly as she could on her former image before she had joined the Knights of Ren. Then in the space of time spent between one blink and another, her irises had returned to their natural brown and a flush of colour returned to her cheeks. A trail of freckles leading out from her nose to her cheeks had reappeared. It was a trick, a deception conjured by the Force to hide the truth and one that she could not maintain forever but she smiled all the same at the sight. Her disguise was complete.

She was just an unassuming teenage girl. One who dressed unremarkably with a (self-described) cute cream skirt which flowed down to just above her knees and a slightly baggy light green top with the image of a cartoon character she used to watch as a child on it. Brushing a lock of her lavender fringe from her forehead for a final inspection, Sam sweetly smiled at herself. Then she giggled, making sure the body posture was correct and her cheeks got that little rosy dash when she did. Perfect.

Stepping out into the main area of the ship with the other Ren, the young girl would be almost unrecognisable for anyone who had only seen her on duty. Everything right down to her facial expressions and body language had changed. There was no rigid straight back posture nor smug, holier-than-thou smirk but a playful skip in her step and an innocent smile.

Method acting.

[member="Castor Ren"] [member="Darth Veles"] [member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Brennan Cabrol"]​

​

@Siriwook @Desmond C'artyom [member="Jamie Pyne"] [member="Aela Talith"]​

 

[Kyrel Ren]

Kyrel sat in his seat on board the freighter. When the Vader like mechanical monstrosity heard of the Ren's mission to Lothal ,for Kyber crystals he felt a tremendous amount of anticipation swell within him. This was a mission for the shadowy group to make themselves truly known to the Jedi,and what would be a better way than to hunt for Kyber crystals. Hijacking the freightor was an easy task,and unlike his brothers and sisters he could not disguise himself. He thought anyway that this was the best,and when he saw the Jedi he wanted his form to strike fear into their hearts. That's if they faced any Jedi that is. They were deep in the Outer Rim,and in enemy territory so the chances of that would be high.

His breathing was the only sound that he had made. He sat across from his fellow disciple [member="Brennan Cabrol"] who he had met at Skye but neither spoke to him,nor did he care to at this current moment in time. His lightsaber was right on his belt,and Kyrel briefly wondered if a fresh Kyber would make it any powerful. The current crystal that was in it was a cracked Kyber crystal. Due to it being cracked it produced an unstable blood shine blade that crackled with ferocious intensity. He knew that maybe replacing it might not be a bad idea,of course he would have to use the dark side to corrupt it to give it it's red blade.

He heard [member="Castor Ren"] speak about if the group was ready to make the final jump to Lothal ,which some had answered excitedly. This was his third mission among the Ren,and so he looked forward to prove himself more to the Order as he usual did. With each mission he gained stronger in the Dark Side,and with each mission He came closer to one day becoming The Supreme Leader's closest and best followers. Of course these were his ambitions. Weather he would fulfill such would lie solely within him,and his powers. Snapping out of his pondering he nodded and waited for the ship to arrive eagerly to their mission,and hopefully some worthy adversaries.



[member="Samka Derith"] [member="Darth Veles"] [member="Isla Ashen"]

[member="Aela Talith"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Jamie Pyne"] [member="Siriwook"]

 

[Progflaw99]

--- --- ---​

Location: Space, Near Lothal​

Status: Heading for ground​

--- --- ---​

​

Without further ado, Castor input several console commands into the navigation system, the low hum of the engines slowly increasing into a high pitched whine. Nervously Castor watched the readings on the panel in front of him, relaxing when finally the engines resumed a mid-level rumble and the ship jumped to lightspeed. The travel was more or less uneventful, some of the gauges and readouts fluctuating too high or too low for the Ren's comfort but all in all they were no worse for wear by the time they dropped out of hyperspace. As they did so, Castor closed his eyes, shutting out all around him for a moment.

In his minds eye he saw an ember, a gently burning coal. As he focused in on it however he began to recognize the inferno, flames licking at the edges of his consciousness. Emotions washed over him, a chill causing his eyes to twitch but he kept them closed. He could almost hear the roar of the fire now, his face feeling flush as he sat in the pilot's seat but he was oblivious to all around him now. The fear. He could feel it gripping at him and so he dove deeper into his consciousness, the fear turning into anger. Yes, this... This was familiar. He could sense the aura around him, the power of the Dark Side lurking beneath the flesh and bone of his body. He almost lost himself in the moment, the warmth from within comforting and familiar to the Disciple of Ren, but now he could not afford to do so. Focusing now on the darkness surrounding the coal he began to construct a thin layer of space just outside the flames, slowly reflecting that burning ember inwards. The light began to dim and Castor pushed harder, envisioning a mirrored surface to shunt back the orange light of the flickering flame. Slowly but surely the light began to fade but the heat remained. Satisfied with the result, the Disciple of Ren's eyes snapped open.

It had only taken several microseconds but it had felt like over an hour. The archives at the Bastion of Ren contained over a Zettabyte of data ranging from historical documents to current event publications and Castor spent much of his free time there. Studying under several of the Masters at the initiate Academy he had begun learning the art of concealing one's force presence, or at the very least reducing it. It was a particularly difficult skill to master, the Disciple even having spent countless hours practicing still required a significant amount of effort to maintain the guise. As he input several codes into the panel before him the ship began approaching the planetary body of Lothal. Scanners picked up various merchant vessels and even a few Galactic Alliance military ships but as they cruised towards the planet he dismissed them.

Reaching over to another panel Castor toggled a few more switches. Picking up the internal comms again he spoke briefly.

"Crew of "La Tortuga", we have arrived in the Lothal system. Please be sure to conceal any identifying features such as lightsabers or gear in the cargo hold, make sure you lock them up in secure vault 1A. It would be wise not to get nicked the moment we land because one of you has a lightsaber strapped to their forehead." Pausing briefly and appreciating his own joke, he continued. "For those of you who cannot be easily concealed..." Again, a pause as the Disciple bit the inside of his cheek as he considered one of their number, [member="Kyrel Ren"]. "...Please remain in a secure location until we are safely at our final destination, no telling what types of customs we'll have to go through, if any."​

​

Fiddling with the transponder, Castor adjusted it to the correct frequency for merchant vessels before beaming a pre-established entry code to the surface. Receiving an affirmative response Castor guided the shuttle towards the atmosphere, settling his sights on a sparsely populated area near the Kinpany Gap, the rumor was there were ancient mining tunnels in the area. A few scans of the area revealed numerous underground passages but the exact layout wasn't discernible. Unfortunately geological scanners weren't exactly standard on freighter vessels. As the vessel descended towards the planet's surface Castor felt a slight twinge in his gut, discomfort causing him to shift slightly in his seat. He could sense it here, there were without a doubt Jedi, or at the very least a strong light side presence. Where exactly he couldn't tell but he could certainly feel its presence. Gritting his teeth and focusing once more at the task at hand, ensuring to check briefly his force concealing shroud he'd erected about himself. Some of the records he'd read over in the archives at the Bastion had made fleeting mention of a Jedi Temple on this world, and that was the last place Castor wanted to fly past. Being sure to stay away from any central hubs of activity as he approached the planet's surface he homed in on their landing coordinates.

Bringing in the freighter low, they coasted past the mountains, their destination now within view. Lothal was a temperate world and Castor couldn't deny its beauty a shame it wasn't a part of the First Order held worlds, it would make a great addition. Manipulating the controls, the freighter swooped low along the ground, flaring its engines as he turned the craft around and searched for their landing site. Through his viewport he could see a small collection of durasteel decked landing pads arranged in a wide arcing semi-circle. Their pad rested empty, easy to locate. Bringing the vessel in he was able to gracefully land the vessel without much difficulty. With a few final gouts of flame the engines began spooling down, the high hum dissipating as the systems were shut down.

"We've arrived. According to the database, this is Kinpany Dock. It used to be a heavy mining operation but it looks like it's petered out since then."​

​

Picking himself up from where he sat, he adjusted his high collared jacket. As were the majority of his fellow Ren, barring at least the one, he had donned some standard spacer attire though he'd managed to modify it slightly to better fit his weapon choices. As he had on Bharkesh, he carried with him a Charric pistol. Originally designed for the FOSB, it made a great covert weapon in the event they needed to make a silent dispatch. Aside from that pistol hidden in an under the arm holster, a modernized DL-18 blaster pistol hung from his thigh holster. It was a strange feel for the Ren but he managed to pull it off. Lastly, he'd brought with him one of the many standardized lightsabers from the Bastion. A minimalistic design it was practical but certainly lacked any sort of character or real gravitas. After this trip, Castor hoped to create his own saber despite his love of solid blades. Unfortunately, not everywhere was it practical to carry a full fledged long sword and so he'd taken this instead, strapped to the inside of his jacket.

Moving from the cockpit and motioning for the others to follow he input a code into the cargo ramp, a loud hydraulic whirr filling their ears for a moment as the ramp contacted the deck with a quiet thud. Cocking his head to the side, Castor took a deep breath and stepped off with his left foot. As his footsteps carried him down the ramp he immediately noticed a pair of droids rushing out to meet them. He paused there at the base of the ramp and waited for their approach.

As they came into earshot, a shrill beeping could be heard emitted from the shorter of the two, a small boxy droid with a singular ocular device chortled. Squeaking to its companion, a taller lankier droid with a small data pad module, the droid sped off on its wheels back towards the main hub. Looking back to the taller droid, Castor raised an eyebrow.

"Please sign the equipment unload and delivery confirmation. If receipt is required, please stop by the port authority office attached to the main hub."

The droid repeated the message twice more before Castor stepped forward, taking the small stylus at the top of the pad and scribbling the name of their ship's former captain across the screen. Replacing it, he nodded his head.

"That won't be necessary."​

​

Spinning on its articulated legs, the droid began making its way back, following in the wake of where its other companion had disappeared to. Shrugging his shoulders and looking back at the other Ren he spoke, tapping a small datapad of his own.

"According to this, we've got about five kilometers to travel before we get to where the information we found indicates a cavern system. Would you prefer to walk, or should we see if we can find some speeders to rent?"​

​

His eyes rested on the fiery red-head, the Knight technically one of the leaders of this expedition. Perhaps she would have some guidance for the group. The Ren may steal and 'borrow' at times, but Castor wasn't unintelligent. They'd planned ahead, making sure to bring several small credit sticks loaded with currency for any expenses they might incur. Stealing speeders would only alert the local authority, no, everything here would be above the bar.

​

Spoiler

Ren​

[member="Isla Ashen"] | [member="Anor Ren"]​

[member="Kriel Firin"] | [member="Greifen Ren"]​

[member="Iroatas"] | [member="Samka Derith"]​

​

[member="Viktor DuSang"] | [member="Misha Ren"]​

[member="Thresh Sken"] | [member="Perth Levov"]​

[member="Soleil Ishtar"] | [member="Darren Onyx"]​

[member="Morrison Jericho"] | [member="Kaz Praxon"]​

[member="Kyrel Ren"]
(And our Resident Sith [member="Darth Veles"])​

​

Other​

[member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"]​

[member="Jamie Pyne"] | [member="Siriwook"]
[member="Zark"]​

​

​

 

[Tiland Kortun]

A breeze blew through the morning air, ruffling his hair in the bright light. Lothal was a frontier outpost and temple for the Jedi Service Corps, with all five branches being present. Which for most of them, was hardly a surprise, but to even have ExplorCorps here? To have them on a charted planet? That was quite special. Yet he was not here for them. No, he was here as part of the AgriCorps and MedCorps. To combine them, perhaps. To train the Jedi healers in the art and craft of herbalism and how to tend to such herbs as they needed in their garden.

So they had their own, but Tiland had his own, where he now stood. A small delicate patch of some of the rarest herbs. Not his entire collection, of course, but enough to get them growing. It was a very delicate operate that required his utmost attention. He frowned slightly as one of the leaves below him turned in the breeze. It had a yellow spot on its underbelly.

He set down his staff and knelt beside the plant, studying its leaf with an intentness that, if not for the kindness in his eyes, might have been intimidating. Tiland reached out and cupped the leaf in his hand and closed his eyes. He stretched out with the Force, encompassing himself and the tiny plant. He could see now where the trouble was. Nothing complicated, but potentially fatal.

Reaching out with the Force, he wrapped its folds around the tiny leaf, sending its pulse through the cells, cleansing them of the poisoning. Tiland reopened his eyes and studied the leaf again.

It was the perfect shade of violet again.

A perfunctory nod. Today was a good day.

 

[Tanomas Graf]

A black trench coat whipped around weakly in the light daytime breeze as Graf sauntered through one of the many settlements on Lothal. He had no particular reason to be out there except for exercise, as he heard from crewmen that the mountains in this area were some of the most beautiful on the planet, great for hiking. The old man looked above him when a cargo freighter flew overhead and landed at the Kinpany Dock he had arrived at just a few moments ago.

Tanomas’ attention was diverted elsewhere when he approached a tavern, on any other day he would've let his alcoholism take over but he didn't particularly like the notion of him wandering the plains drunk off his ass. He was about to leave when a poster caught his eye on the side of the tavern, he strode up to it and took a gander.

‘WANTED: Tanomas Graf’ blared at him on the top of the poster in Aurebesh. His eyes narrowed as he noticed seven figure digits, so the First Order was offering over a million credits for his demise or capture. Graf spat on the ground and ripped the poster off the wall, stuffing it into his pocket. Looking around, his uncanny resemblance to the poster had caught the eye of some of the seedier folk.

He began to back away until he ran into a tall but stocky man in scarred armor. “And where do you think you're going, Admiral?” The man questioned, sporting a blaster rifle. Graf showed no fear as he answered “Hiking. I hear the mountains are lovely this time of year.”. A few chuckles emanated around him as several goons stared.

“Not anymore. It was nice of you to walk right into my hands, I'll be taking you to the First Order for a big fat paycheck. I can't believe you were stupid enough t-” was all the man said until a searing blast mark appeared between the man’s eyes, in front of him was Graf armed with a smoking DH-17 blaster pistol, anger visible on his face. He was about to say something until the crowd in the tavern pulled blasters and he dived behind a pile of crates as a shootout started.

There was probably a lesson in all of this, don't kill a man in a tavern where your bounty has been posted.

[member="Castor Ren"] | [member="Isla Ashen"] | [member="Brennan Cabrol"] | [member="Darth Veles"] | [member="Siriwook"] | [member="Jamie Pyne"] | [member="Desmond C'artyom"] | [member="Aela Talith"] | [member="Samka Derith"] | [member="Kyrel Ren"] | [member="Tiland Kortun"]

 

[Perth Levov]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdphvuyaV_I

Lothal. Whereas her standard approach would have been to scope out the planet meticulously, now she was part of a team and received a formal briefing and debriefing. Given they were going in as a group and out the same way, her focus was delegated to her. It was the same for all of them.

Get in. Get the crystals. Get out. Remain low-key.

It was always hard for a small army to be inconspicuous, but they would do their best. Plus, she had a vested interest in picking up a crystal of her own. Since she’d given away the old Jedi saber, she’d heard how one crafted by the user was in many ways superior to one found and used. It was more in tune with the wielder and the Force symbiosis was a real boon to duelling.

As they headed towards the planet, she reflected on what she knew of Lothal. It was actually quite a lot, and due to one specific thing.

Grav-ball.

She was a member of the military squad on her home planet and Lothal was a place that historically had a strong team. Perhaps because they played the game a slightly different way – and that always gave them home advantage. In fact she’d played here before and lost…every time. She hoped it was not a portent of their upcoming mission.

And if it were, she had to use the parallel to her advantage. And as she reflected on the most recent overtime loss, she considered how, of all of the things she’d consigned to her past, grav-ball was the one she missed most. There was something about the formality of the rules that appealed – how both teams had the same constraints but it was how they adapted them to be strengths that separated the winners from the losers.

Under the rules played on Lothal, a grav-ball grid was divided lengthwise into eight zones, called octets. The team that won the chance-cube toss started at the centre of the grid. They had three drives to move eight meters into the next octet. Succeed and they got three new drives to go another eight meters. Fail and the ball went to the other team, going the other direction.

At either end of the grid was a scoring circle, and at the centre of that circle was the goal, a three-meter hoop on a stalk. Putting the ball through the goal by hand or tossing it through from inside the scoring circle was a touch-score, worth four points. Kicking it through the goal from anywhere on the grid was a kick-score, worth two.

The centre striker started each play with the ball – that was her role. She could run with the ball, pass it to one of the two other strikers, or hand it to one of the two fullbacks for a carry. Behind the centre striker, two defenders and a keeper protected the goal.

Grav-ball was an exhausting, frantic game, with the same players having to alternate offence and defence over three periods. As she reminisced, she realised she loved the sudden shifts in momentum, the strategies and the satisfaction of outguessing or outplaying an opponent. And here on Lothal you got to play on green grass and under a real sky as opposed to a dome. It was another factor that gave home advantage.

As the planet loomed closer, Perth wondered who they might encounter – and how they might use home advantage against them.

 

[Isla Ashen]

Isla’s head turned slightly and she acknowledged the enigmatic presence of the Mon Cal with a curt nod. Her emerald orbs traveled over the faces and attire of those assembled in the cockpit, and they came to a screeching halt upon Samka. While most, including herself, had assumed the appearances of everyday crewmen or mercenaries… it seemed that the young woman with lavender hair had chosen a different route. She tilted her head to the side, brows lofted. Her expression might have come off a bit judgmental of the teenage girl’s wardrobe choice, but in reality, she was merely curious. Why would one choose to flounce about in such a short skirt? The possible reasons escaped her. Isla pushed these thoughts away, and let her mind fall back into silence.

She listened to the instructions provided by Castor Ren, and made her way to the cargo hold. Her boots paused in the doorway, her sharp gaze moved silently about her surroundings. It could have been the hold of any spacer, and there was nothing that immediately drew her attention. The open space was quite bare, a few crates were strewn here and there, and the area had just the right amount of grime to make it appear convincing. It looked lived in, and even a bit charming. Perhaps in another life, Isla would have taken to such a career. Walking forward, she did happen upon one black robe, and she quickly stuffed it away inside the designated vault.

Isla waited there until the craft touched down on Lothal, and she stood with arms crossed, listening to the ambient sound of the ship powering down. Soon, the others had joined her and the ramp lowered for them to exit. She let Castor Ren move past first, and she followed a few paces behind. Isla regarded the two droids indifferently as they approached, and merely stood to watch as they beeped requests for a delivery confirmation. With their request fulfilled, the two droids departed, and Isla’s gaze turned slightly to view them out of the corner of her eyes. Silently, she took note of the words spoken by Castor, and she blinked once when she realized that he was looking her way.

Ah, yes – her role as a Knight meant that she would be called upon to give input and guidance. It was still something that she was getting used to. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she let her gaze wander the members of their party. Of course, Isla had no problems with walking such a distance. But she did have to consider their number, and the time it would take to reach their destination at such a pace.

“It would be best that we do not delay.” She spoke up. “We can rent a few speeders and make straight for the cavern.”

With her preference given, she began to gaze about the port. Surely, they would be able to rent a few speeder bikes without much fuss. The sooner they got underway, the better – they did not need anything to distract them from their mission.

Spoiler

Ren friends: [member="Castor Ren"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Brennan Cabrol"], [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Perth Levov"]
Not Ren: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Tiland Kortun"], [member="Aela Talith"], [member="Desmond C'artyom"], [member="Jamie Pyne"], [member="Siriwook"]

 

[Siriwook]

Spoiler

Renemies?: [member="Castor Ren"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Brennan Cabrol"], [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Perth Levov"]
Not Renemies?: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Tiland Kortun"], [member="Aela Talith"], [member="Desmond C'artyom"], [member="Jamie Pyne"], [member="Siriwook"]

Siriwook is focused on the singing of the crystals. There is one in particular that seems more into her than the others. She knows how she would get to it if she had a drill and other mining equipment, but it doesn't want to be reached that way. She must go far out of the way to the entrance of a cave system and climb in to get to the crystal.

Reaching out through the Force, she finds a Loth-cat knows exactly how to get inside. She follows her sense of it through the Force and uses her tracking skills where that fails her to pick up on its trail. While following this, she is more or less oblivious to the more humanoid presences in the Force, choosing to ignore them. So, it is unsurprising when she follows the trail and happens upon [member="Tiland Kortun"] gardening. She barely has time to keep from stepping on one of the plants he's tending. Sensing he may be attuned to the Force, she decides to forego speech. She needed the practice, after all. She focuses on only him, putting all else from her mind. She closes herself off to all the world except this man. Putting her fingers on her temples and wiggling her eyebrows meaningfully, she sends a message.

"[Hello, Mr. Jedi, sir. I'm Siriwook, sir. Pardon the intrusion, sir, but have you seen a Loth-cat come through? It's leading me to a kyber crystal.]" she asks through the Force, then bowing to the obviously-more-experienced Force user.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

Still, the terror had not disappeared without a trace. At first the Commodore had thought his eyes playing tricks upon him, but wherever the rift sealed there was left only void. A tear in the very fabric of reality itself, the gaping wound in the Force hurt to even look at, but he found that he could not rip his gaze away. All around the Jedi Knight, time seemed to slow, until he could no longer even sense the comforting rhythm of his own breathing. The tear in space seemed to grow in front of his eyes until it filled the entire viewport, and to Zark's numb horror he could somehow perceive it moving closer, as if reaching out for them. No...him. His hands, which before had been gripping one of the railings on the command deck tight enough to dent the metal with his prosthetic, suddenly felt weak.

Then the entire orientation of the bridge shifted all at once and, hurled over the railing before he could even so much as react, Zark was falling through the viewport and into space, into the beyond. The distant, trapped remnants of his logical mind expected to feel the horrifying agony of asphyxiation, but to his numb surprise he felt nothing at all, except that horrible tendril of absolute nothingness that lashed out to consume him, and no sooner had it touched him than reality warped around him again, and he saw a series of images, although curiously he still experienced the cold sensation of falling endlessly through darkness. It began slowly at first, but the farther he fell the quicker the images flashed by.

from The Full Reach of Law

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Meditation Chamber, Lothal Jedi Temple
Lothal System, Outer Rim Territories
Galactic Federation of Free Alliances

His eyes snapped open.

Had there been an observer in the room they would have been able to see the faint wisps of shadow uncoil and diffuse itself back into the milky white of his eyes. As quick as it had been there, it was gone, and if the Jedi Knight had noticed the experience at all he showed no signs of it. Zark's mind was too preoccupied with other things, chief of which being the overwhelming grief which threatened to utterly consume him. His efforts today in the privacy of meditation had been less about connecting with the Force and more about trying not to think of the souls he had lost under his command above and on the surface of Atrisia, but ever since he had learned the exact numbers the digits had been impossible to scrub from his mind. So much life, so much potential, most of them snuffed out in that same awful instant when the Sith of the King's court had opened a powerful Force storm in the center of the Alliance battle lines.

So much death, and the shape of things that would now never come. Sitting here, alone and in seclusion on the remote edge of Alliance space, he felt he could almost see the web of their potential futures disintegrate before his very eyes.

Clad in only a simple utilitarian tunic and trousers as well as his traveling cloak, of a style more at home on the shoulders of some outback gunslinger than a Jedi, his GADF uniform lay crumpled in a corner along with his sidearm, the marine heavy blaster something of an atypical choice for a naval commander. In the robotic right hand of his prosthetic arm he gripped his saber hilt, the yellow energy blade inactive for the moment. The prosthesis was a memento from the Battle of Castameer, courtesy of Darth Moreth. In a strange way Zark longed for the clarity of that moment, the near certainty of death and the complete certainty that every moment leading up to it had been spent trying to do the right thing. He couldn't imagine that feeling now, couldn't imagine putting on that uniform and becoming Commodore Zark Pulsar again.

He had done everything he could, everything he felt he needed to do in the immediate aftermath of Atrisia. Helping to oversee truly massive relief operations throughout the sector, particularly in light of Admiral Tevv's health crisis during the battle itself, there had been no time to pause and reflect. To do any thinking at all really beyond immediate, practical problem solving. Burying it all deep inside himself and trying hard every day not to look at it, it had only been a matter of time before it had caught up to the Commodore. He had become more and more irritable and aloof, and when his work had started to suffer he had put in for some leave time and ran far, far away from it all. The running had brought him here, to Lothal, where for the past few days he had been considering undertaking the Ordeal.

Beyond being an incredibly irresponsible decision to even attempt alone, it was entirely unnecessary as a now fully recognized Knight of the Order. In the aftermath of both Castameer and Bomis Koori, his efforts against the One Sith had earned him no small amount of favor within the ranks of the NJO, and during a meeting the Grand Marshal had inferred to him with the type of finesse only the wisest of Jedi were capable of that to continue to eschew the orthodoxy would earn him no consequences but the passive aggressive judgment of Jedi for years to come. To Grand Marshal Rhen's credit, he had framed it more as words of advice than the word of one of the three most influential figures in the entire Federation, which earned him some respect on Zark's behalf. Both of them were realistic enough to know that the Commodore's sense of duty to the Alliance would leave him very little choice, but at least Omai had the decency to be polite about it and not dispel his illusion of choice.

And yet, Zark felt more uncertain of his connection to the Force than ever. Repeated exposure to Darkside artifacts in his treasure hunting youth had already had their effects, aging him prematurely and warping him in who knows how many other ways. With his exposure to the anomaly above Atrisia, the Force wound, and what he had seen...of course, he couldn't be sure exactly of they were visions at all. Though naturally gifted with the Force as a younger man, he had never shown any signs before of precognitive tendencies. And yet it hadn't seemed like a dream, particularly the last part, so despite the risks he was tempted to find out for certain, which meant the Ordeal. It was a test of your attachments. Attachments to others, attachments to the Order, even attachments to the Force itself. Not many Masters still chose to practice the Padawan Trial, preferring more certain and less potentially deadly methods of instruction (for both master and pupil), but if Zark could withstand the visions the Temple would provide, he could know once and for all. And if he couldn't...the Temple defenses would entomb him forever.

All in all, not one of your greatest hits fellas, he thought to himself, referring to the Order of the Ancient Republic.

"Knight Zark?" a voice echoed faintly outside the chamber.

Ah yes, the pretense.

It would not have done at all to explain to his superiors that his reason for visiting Lothal was to have a crisis of faith and potentially commit suicide, so instead the Commodore had attached himself to an Exploration Corps dig site out near the mountain chains. Lothal was a veritable treasure trove of historical and theological artifacts, and recently a contingent from the Academy of Jedi Archaeology had unearthed the foundation of what they believed to be an ancient Jedi outpost or meeting site of some sort. With the kyber crystals growing in the mountains, it was no surprise that there were be remnants of ancient Force sects nearby. It was an excuse, a diversion, but a pleasant one nonetheless.

The voice called out again, and Zark knew the ExplorCorps archaeologist would not intrude on the sanctity of the meditation chamber. They had been expecting him at the dig site for a full day already, but Zark had been still here locked in his struggle to decide. Well, since there was a very good chance the process would kill him, the penitent knight supposed there would be no harm in making his choice after he had visited the dig site. They had gone through all the effort to send a man, first out to the spaceport, and then to the Temple with him. He had kept them all waiting on him long enough, particularly the poor chauffeur. Leaving the uniform where it lay, discarded, he paused for a moment halfway out of the room and walked over to grab and reholster his sidearm. After all, a blaster was a blaster and Lothal was Lothal.

As he passed the threshold of the Temple, he shuddered as he felt an intrusion in the harmony all around him. Nothing noticeably changed, but the flow of reality seemed all at once discordant where before everything had seemed serene. Instinctively his hand reached for his saber hilt, danger sense kicking in, but the feeling slowly passed. The experience deeply concerned him, but where before he would have searched for an external explanation, now his suspicions were only directed within. Beyond the walls of the Temple, the archaeologist and an airspeeder waited to take them both to their destination in the shadow of the mountains.

"We will be alone, on an empty shore..."

"Did you say something?" Zark asked as they took off.

"No, sir," the ExplorCorps man glanced at him, most of his focus on piloting the airspeeder, "Why?"

"No reason."

Spoiler

NJO: [member="Tanomas Graf"], [member="Tiland Kortun"], [member="Aela Talith"], [member="Desmond C'artyom"], [member="Jamie Pyne"], [member="Siriwook"]
KoR: [member="Castor Ren"], [member="Isla Ashen"], [member="Kyrel Ren"], [member="Samka Derith"], [member="Brennan Cabrol"], [member="Darth Veles"], [member="Perth Levov"]

 

[Darth Veles]

More sentients could be spotted once he pivoted around. Under a grotesquely shaped armour covered the hateful existence of Thomas, a familiar face, albeit not nearly as much as that of Samka Derith, their youngest member. Darth Veles shifted his attention towards the one who almost matched his own oddity, seemingly just a little girl that had no place among ruthless killers. The disguise did not fool the Sith lord, who had worked with her in the past. Seeing Samka perform this trick quite a few times already, Veles hoped she hid more deceit up her sleeve, for cooking from spoiled ingredients often led to disappointment. Abusing one’s youth was a perfectly valid option, the amphibious assassin had done the same as an acolyte, yet this wolf in sheep’s innocent clothing would not be able to keep playing the already outdated role forever.

Deliberate, methodical steps brought the Mon Cal deeper into their transport, the lack of sound and noticeable movement under the man’s cloak almost making it seem he floated across the vessel’s durasteel flooring. Treacherous thoughts found surprisingly little support in his mind – nothing to gain except the First Order’s wrath. With no powerful relic to claim and zero dangerous rivals to dispose of, the Darth lacked any incentive for weaving sinister plots and thus considered this mission an exercise of sorts. This meant he could not really part with anything he hid beneath his robe, opting to purposely handicap himself and employ the tricky mastery over bending light and shadows should it prove necessary. Discreetly tailing the beautiful bodies of his allies and exiting last, he spared a moment to take in the beautiful view Lothal offered as he marched down the ramp.

The gold-like sun overhead combined with the slight draught of cold coming from the mountains provided an excellent excuse for Veles’ hooded attire. Staying one or two steps behind the group without interfering, subtly touching the specific flavour of the Force on this planet, he blinked when Isla’s melodic voice proposed using speeders. Not that it was a particularly surprising decision, but Veles could not help but imagine his former colleagues attempting to do the same. They always had a knack for turning even the simplest of missions into a planet-wide holocaust. In this aspect, the Sith lord found his Ren friends to be a refreshing change. Not many things in life pleased him more than a job well done, stroking his professional pride as master assassin and infiltrator.

“Hmm. I support knight Ashen’s decision. We cannot afford to linger and if things go wrong, we’ll have the option to retreat faster than doing so would take on foot.” Veles shares, his thick accent betraying the Mon Cal’s Imperial origins. Washing over everyone like a cold shover, his burning gaze spies every single Ren before settling upon the picturesque landscape.

Spoiler

[member="Zark"] [member="Siriwook"] [member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Tanomas Graf"] [member="Tiland Kortun"] [member="Castor Ren"] [member="Kyrel Ren"] [member="Samka Derith"] [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Desmond C'artyom"] [member="Brennan Cabrol"] [member="Jamie Pyne"]

 

[Samka Derith]

Stepping out into the spaceport behind her associates, Sam took in the view of the spaceport with wide, curious eyes. She'd not been this side of things before, with La Tortuga apparently a cargo freighter and the other Ren apparently her crew, Sam was seeing a different sequence of docking than she'd experienced. No quick and painless private hanger to land in and single security check. Instead there was a flurry of machinery, droids and dock workers transporting goods and performing maintenance. Her look of curiosity hid her disdain. It was loud, clumsy and ugly. The nauseating stench of fuel was heavy in the air. Samka watched a couple of workers examining a crate in the background, one was digging through the contents while another was checking off some sort of list on a holopad.

"What a dull, unfulfilling existence they must lead," Sam whispered to the only person in earshot who happened to be Perth Levov, one of the newer apprentices she'd not interacted with until now. The wholesome demeanour never leaving as she continued, "It almost makes you want to end them all right now, doesn't it? It would be a favour. Alas for self control." With that, the young Ren merrily hopped over to where Castor Ren and Isla Ashen were dealing with the droids.

She arrived just as Castor was asking a question to the red headed Ren. Sam bit her lip in indignation, in spite of her youth, she held the same rank as Isla, why was the question not directed at her? Still she held her tongue until the elder woman replied.

"I agree, we shouldn't walk back carrying our haul over our shoulders," she added once their Sith companion had his say. Breifly her eyes met the bulbous Mon Cal's as he looked over the group, she tried to exchange a glance which said don't speak before me again but knowing Veles he'd find the challenge amusing. The Sith had his uses but Sam couldn't help but wonder if the leash should be tightened...

Once the group began to fan out, Sam reached out to tug on the sleeve of her fellow Knight several times, deliberately resembling the antics of a child seeking attention. "Ahem," clearing her throat slightly as she looked up as Isla Ashen, "You may have noticed I am too young to be in formal long-term employment, which includes long distance transportation, under the galactic treaty on children and adolescents within the work force, as ratified by our kind hosts in the Galactic Alliance." Sam quickly glanced at the ghastly outfit the red head was wearing, a lucky escape. "Therefore, my reasoning for being here is that I have no other legal guardian to take care of me while you are away." With that, Sam flashed her most charming smile up at Isla, "So stay close my dear big sister."

This part was always fun. This playful side of her which enjoyed more harmless, perhaps even friendly, teasing.

[member="Darth Veles"] [member="Isla Ashen"] [member="Castor Ren"] [member="Brennan Cabrol"] [member="Kyrel Ren"]​

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@Zark @Tiland Kortun [member="Aela Talith"] [member="Jamie Pyne"] @Siriwook @Desmond C'artyom [member="Tanomas Graf"]​

 

[Desmond C'artyom]

[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJY8jJkDoMY[/media]​

Desmond C'artyom wandered the bays making mental notes of the merchant ships. None in particular stood out. A couple of grousing merchants that didn't have the proper landing codes, but that seemed to be the worse of it. Desmond picked another deathstick out of his pack and lit it. He inhaled deeply from the smoke and was immediately rewarded with a slight head rush. He made it as far as the next merchant vessel when he noticed something strange. Their was something off about the boat that bothered him. No, it wasn't the boat it was the crew. The Mon Cal especially.. He had an air of danger about him and he didn't even a single weapon on him. They had a sense of entitlement about them that Des wouldn't expect from other spacers.

On top of that a couple of them wielded swords and they had a small girl with them. He could not remember the last time he saw a merchant with a sword. Call it substance induced paranoia or just a gut feeling, regardless something wasn't quiet right. Des walked a little further till he was beyond eye sight then activated his stealth cloak. He would now appear as a mere heat shimmer to the naked eye. The cloak also had a nice ability to go undetected under the closest scrutiny of most scanners. Des back tracked to where he saw the strange crew and carefully made his approach. In all honesty in his fit of boredom his mind had simply begun making things up.

Anything strange had begun to warrant his attention and now here he was. Attempting to get a better look at the freckles on the bald mans head..


[member="Samka Derith"][member="Darth Veles"]@Zark@Siriwook@Isla Ashen[member="Perth Levov"][member="Tanomas Graf"][member="Tiland Kortun"][member="Castor Ren"]