Private Ukatian Tourism

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

Ukatis was a world Gatz was becoming intimately familiar with.

He'd been here a few times during his criminal career, smuggling spice into Axilla. But most of his time here had been spent during the reconstruction after the Mandalorian Enclave had invaded the world, leaving behind rubble and ruin. Gatz wasn't good for much, but he had a ship with a sizable cargo hold, and something of a bleeding heart. Corazona von Ascania hadn't even asked him to do it, but Gatz had just... started ferrying relief supplies after she'd brought him to her homeworld to search for her sister.

It was something he was still doing: delivering much needed resources for the reconstruction, though he did it far leas frequently these days. Ukatis would probably never fully recover from what the Mandalorians had done to it, but Axilla almost seemed as if it had never been touched.

Almost.

Gatz could still feel them: the scars left behind by war. Violence was tethered to this planet, even now, long after the Enclave had dissolved. Pain and loss weren't easily forgotten, and the people of Ukatis would bear those burdens until the end of their days. How could they not, when the memories of blood and rubble were still present in their mind?

Gatz sighed, sitting on a bench in the starport as he waited for word that his cargo had been unloaded. What had happened to Ukatis wasn't unique. It was happening everywhere in the galaxy, especially to worlds under the protection of the Galactic Alliance. Because it seemed that every fledging faction in the galaxy wanted a piece of them.

Sometimes, Gatz wondered if the Alliance did more harm than good, simply by existing.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Force, I look like my brother, Eloise thought with a scowl as she glanced in the mirror one last time. She had leached the purple dye from her hair, restoring it to its natural red, and cropped her long locks short. Her face was free of makeup, and shapeless peasant clothing hid the best parts of her figure. Coupled with her height, she would pass for a youth so long as she didn’t open her mouth.

She certainly wasn’t on Ukatis for leisure. No, she was here because after months of nothing, she’d finally received word of Albrecht von Duschendorff’s whereabouts. The (former?) Jedi Padawan had been her constant companion during the miserable early years of her Jedi training, his anger, bitterness, and jealousy toward their peers rivaling her own. The two of them had stewed together in negativity until the day Albrecht suddenly disappeared without a word.

Now he had reappeared… in the palace dungeons, awaiting execution. The charge? Treason, apparently. Eloise found that a little difficult to believe. Albrecht was your standard Ukatian nobleman: proud to the point of arrogance, superior to the common folk, and possessing uniquely anachronistic ideas about the fairer sex. She once asked him what he thought of her, curious that he could hold such views and still be friends with her; he replied that he hardly considered her a woman at all. Why would he commit treason?

Well, given the sort of king they had, it probably didn’t take much. Hell, maybe it didn’t take anything. Maybe all His Majesty had to do was point to Albrecht and declare him a dead man, without reason or just cause. She was going to find out what was going on and get Albrecht out of there before he lost his head.

Leaving the ship, she spotted a familiar face as she made her way across the landing pad. Gatz was sitting on a bench, waiting for something. What the hell was he doing here, of all people? Forget it. She couldn’t afford to be recognized. Turning away, she kept her head down and headed in the direction of the palace.

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

For the love of— what was taking those droids so long?

"I put you in charge of one thing Arfour, and you can't even get that right."

With an annoyed sigh, Gatz stood from his seat, resolved to return to the hangar bay and see why unloading was taking so long. Maybe R4 was directing the starport's droids incorrectly? That seemed the most likely. Damn astromech had a few burnt out logic circuits, and shouldn't be trusted with anything. Still, it was better than having to direct things himself—

Gatz noticed the barest hint of a familiar face out of the corner of his eye, but then the person was bundling up and walking away from him. Curious, Gatz reached out with the Force and felt a presence that... he wasn't well acquainted with, but he thought he ought to know. Probably someone just going about their business. He ought to leave them be.

Except... how many people did he know that had business on Ukatis? One. And the person he felt most certainly wasn't Cora. Surely... surely it couldn't hurt to investigate, just to sate his curiosity, right?

"Hey!"

Gatz found himself quickly approaching the stranger (?) at a jog.

"Sorry to bug you, but I couldn't help but notice—" Gatz stopped, blinking abruptly, as he jogged around the individual, "...Eloise? Did... did you dye your hair?"

 

[Eloise Dinn]

"Hey!"

Eloise hoped against hope that he wasn’t calling out to her, but no such luck. The dumb blond jogged after her. It didn’t matter that they had only met once, or that she was in disguise; he recognized her as soon as he saw her face.

"...Eloise? Did... did you dye your hair?"

She grabbed him by the collar of his Jedi cloak, eyes narrowing. “First of all, don’t call me that or you’ll blow my cover,” she growled. “Second of all, I’ve always been a ginger. Third—shut up and mind your own business.”

Releasing him, she started to walk away… only to pause and turn back. “Actually, Gatz—do you have a couple hours to spare?” she asked, abruptly sounding a lot nicer than she had mere moments earlier. Evidently she’d been struck by an idea.

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Gatz Derrevar

Eloise was as prickly as ever. Gatz merely pursed his lips, and held his tongue. If harsh words from a woman he barely knew was enough to make him lash out in anger, then he was a poor Jedi indeed. And Gatz was tired of playing that role. No more. So he looked at her, impassively, as she made him the target of her little outburst.

It was far better than the knives and blasters that used to target him back on Nar Shaddaa.

“Actually, Gatz—do you have a couple hours to spare?”

"Apologize for the way you just spoke to me," Gatz said calmly, "and ask me nicely. Then, I would be happy to help you."

It wasn't quite his place to teach Eloise manners—and he suspected no one ever truly would—but she could at least talk to him with a modicum of respect. He didn't need her to be prim, proper, and to follow etiquette the way Cora did, but just a little less rude would be nice. And, yeah, he was gonna help her regardless of whether or not she did as he asked...

But it was worth a try.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eloise paused, weighing her options. She didn’t need Gatz to accomplish her goal, but having him around might make things easier. Time was of the essence in this case. That was enough to make his help worthwhile.

“I’m sorry,” she forced herself to say through grit teeth. “Would you please assist me in rescuing an innocent man from execution?” Well, probably innocent. Even if he wasn’t innocent, who gave a crap? Treason and lawbreaking were practically moral necessities on Ukatis.

“His name is Albrecht von Duschendorff. He used to be a Jedi Padawan—apparently he withdrew from the Order before he disappeared a few months ago, or else a Master would be handling this. Now he’s in prison awaiting execution for treason.” She gestured to herself. “I was planning to break him out, disguised as a dude since that’s the only way I can get anywhere on this dystopian sewage cake of a planet. Other than that, I’m sort of winging it.”

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

“I’m sorry,” she forced herself to say through grit teeth. “Would you please assist me in rescuing an innocent man from execution?”

"Wow. That was like pulling teeth."

Gatz strongly suspected that Eloise had little practice with apologizing. And asking nicely. And just being nice in general. She was very blunt and straightforward, after all. Gatz might have basked in the fact that he'd managed to ger both a "sorry" and a "thank you" out of her, but the mention of an innocent man being executed had him worried.

He knew all to well how... antiquated some of Ukatis' practices could be.

"Alright, let's walk and talk," his offer of help was instant, "do you know what he's been accused of?"

Ukatis was a member world of the Galactic Alliance. Gatz was worried that would make things tricky. They were Jedi—bound to serve the Alliance and the worlds that composed it. Yet here they were, discussing a jailbreak on a world whose laws they were meant to uphold.

Now, if Gatz had to choose between saving a life, and upholding the law, he'd always choose the first. No question. But that didn't mean he wanted to make an enemy of the King and his retinue. Not if he could avoid it. Cora's stories about the nobility and monarchy of Ukatis were enough to ward him away from wanting anything to do with them.

"We need something better than winging it," Gatz affirmed, "this isn't Nar Shaddaa. We can't just do whatever we want, piss off the Hutts, and leave. Like it or not, Ukatis is a member of the Galactic Alliance, and our job is to uphold its laws, not break them."

Man, they were fucked.

"So if we're going to do this, we have to do it right. Because if we don't, it'll have long reaching consequences that affect more than just you, me, and your friend."

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eloise said nothing, her expression neutral apart from a faint twitch of annoyance in one eye. It wasn’t that she lacked manners—she just held the majority of people in contempt until they proved themselves worthy of her respect. Or, as in this case, she stood to gain from being nice.

"Do you know what he's been accused of?"

“Treason,” she answered as she walked. “I don’t know the specifics, but it’s definitely fishy.”

The rebuilt capital of Axilla soon surrounded them as they made their way down the street. Though she had only been here once before, while the city was under attack, she wasn’t particularly surprised by her surroundings. It was normal for a planet that had suffered an invasion to look a little rough around the edges, and to her knowledge Ukatis had always been a chithole. There were a few differences, though—namely, the nobility seemed to be taking to galactic technologies with gusto, wearing the latest fashions and carrying around expensive gadgets. A few even bore the telltale signs of cosmetic and cybernetic alterations. Meanwhile the peasants continued to live in squalor without easy access to such luxuries.

While she took in the sights, Gatz was in her ear, speaking gravely about the need to tread carefully and avoid certain consequences. Eloise snorted. “You sound just like Albrecht. He was pissed about the Council coming to Corazona’s rescue, said it was an overreach of power. Now he’s in her place and I’m about to rescue him.”

For Eloise, Ukatis was practically the fething Galactic Empire in miniature; the floating fat man they had on the throne was like Emperor Palpatine. There was no moral dilemma when it came to the von Cholmondeley regime. She wished the Jedi or the GA would tear it all down, but they wouldn't. And she was all too aware that she was just one person, not an army unto herself—though she had the courage and spirit of many men.

Sighing, she paused to lean against a wooden pillar, looking out at the royal palace that loomed over the city. “We can go in and scout them out, find where Albrecht is being held, then formulate something from there with minimal consequences. Sound good?”

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

Oh good, treason. Ukatis was definitely likely to let them just walk out of the prison with Albrecht then. Surely they hadn't already planned his execution, that would just be uncivilized. Gatz sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was lambast Cora's homeworld, but her stories about what the ruling class was like here didn't leave him with much optimism. Not when she'd been tried for murder, for what had really been self-defense.

He didn't say any of that to Eloise though. She was already worried, Gatz could see it through her gruff demeanor. The last thing she needed was for him to ruin what little morale she had left.

“You sound just like Albrecht. He was pissed about the Council coming to Corazona’s rescue, said it was an overreach of power. Now he’s in her place and I’m about to rescue him.”

"And we will rescue him," Gatz assured her, "but we can't bust into the prison, lightsabers blazing, cutting down the guards that get in our way."

Eloise came up with an alternative then—or maybe this had been her plan the entire time—proposing that they scout the holding cells he was likely to be imprisoned in. Presuming he hadn't already been offed. Which, Gatz desperately hoped was the case, but he had no idea how long Albrecht had been missing for.

"Now that sounds like a reasonable idea," Gatz agreed, "and one that doesn't end in a diplomatic incident, or with us floating in the moat. Lead the way."

 

[Eloise Dinn]

"And we will rescue him, but we can't bust into the prison, lightsabers blazing, cutting down the guards that get in our way."

"Well, no," she said. "Lightsabers are overkill, and it would immediately peg us as Jedi. I'd use blasters. That way we could pin it on somebody else. Pirates or freedom fighters." Eloise was starting to wonder if Gatz had gone soft. She'd seen a fair number of people get turned into big wussies after undergoing Jedi training and taking all the peaceful philosophy stuff to heart.

At least he agreed to do some scouting. Eloise resumed her trek toward the palace, presuming he would follow.

It looked like the royals were having some sort of party, what with all the speeders parked around the courtyard. Guards were posted at the main entrance, but then Eloise didn't plan on waltzing in there anyway. She was looking for a servants' entrance or something similar...

It took some searching, but eventually she spotted a plain-dressed man entering a tower. Following him, she found the door locked. "Are you going to complain if I cut through this lock with my lightsaber?" she asked Gatz over her shoulder. "Or do you have a better idea?"

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

"Lightsabers are overkill, and it would immediately peg us as Jedi. I'd use blasters. That way we could pin it on somebody else. Pirates or freedom fighters."

Eloise had completely misunderstood his point. Gatz knew she'd grown up in a Sith cult, but she was still speaking about killing people far too casually for his comfort. They were Jedi, not murderers! They were meant to keep the peace, not fracture it! Even he abided by that, and he'd been Nar Shaddaa scum for over half a decade.

"Hey." His voice turned stern, but quiet, "we are not killing law enforcement. We're not killing anyone. Murder is the furthest thing from the Jedi Way. I'll help you save your friend, kid. But if you kill someone, I'll drag you before the Jedi Council myself. Do you understand?"

Gatz was so sick and tired of Jedi who thought with their lightsabers first. Fighting a defensive war was one thing. But he had peers who were all too eager to cut someone down, just to make their life a little easier. He couldn't understand it. How could anyone be so glib about killing? But then... he'd been that way once, hadn't he?

Did he have the right to judge? Probably not. But that didn't mean he was going to sit by and watch as others made the same mistakes he had.

"Are you going to complain if I cut through this lock with my lightsaber?"

Shit. He should have stopped that guard. Maybe he could have mindtricked him into letting them by. No point dwelling on it now, though.

"Locks are fine." Gatz confirmed, "cages and chains too. People are where we're drawing the line."

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eloise scowled at him. There were many things she could’ve said—about her lack of faith in the Council, the cynical way life was and had always been treated by their little galaxy, or his own track record when it came to preserving life. But in the end, all she did was mutter, “You’re more optimistic than I am about how this is going to go.”

Upon reaching the locked door to the tower, she held her lightsaber’s hilt in her hand. Only after hearing Gatz’s response did she activate the switch, a cylinder of molten plasma burning clean through the lock.

The door swung open, revealing a spiral staircase leading up into the tower. “Like in old paintings,” she murmured. “This tower is probably a lot older than that front entrance. Watch your step.”

At the top of the tower there was a door leading out onto the ramparts of the palace—or rather, the castle it had once been. Over the years, various additions had been made to the original fortress, but its ancient core remained hidden in plain sight.

Eloise didn’t have the build or the patience for sneaking around, so she avoided the guards by being faster than them. Darting through another doorway, she found herself standing in a long winding corridor. It must’ve had hundreds of rooms lining its walls.

“There’s a lift,” she whispered to Gatz. Peering at the controls inside, she frowned. “Of course there’s no button labeled ‘dungeons’...”

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

“You’re more optimistic than I am about how this is going to go.”

"No, I'm not," Gatz's voice was softer now, "but I've come to understand that, as a Jedi, I have an obligation to be more morally upstanding than the average person, not less. And so do you."

If they couldn't handle a couple of guards without killing them, then they weren't the Jedi they claimed to be. Murder was not on the table. Gatz had killed enough already in this new war with the Dark Empire, with the Midvintir cultists before them, and with his fellow criminal scum before even that. He was tired of solving everything at the end of a lightsaber or a blaster barrel.

And he was done with it. Succeed or lose, live or die, he would be a different kind of Jedi than the one he'd been up until recently. One who preserved life, instead of taking it. One who chose violence as the last possible option to end a conflict, not the first. If anyone didn't like that, to hell with them. He wasn't Valery Noble , he wasn't Amani Serys , and he wasn't even his master Inanna Harth . He was his own man, and it was time to be his own Jedi.

Even so, this was still Eloise's mission, not his. So he followed her quietly, more suited to sneaking around than she was. As long as she understood where he drew the line—killing guards—he saw no reason to try and usurp leadership from her. If anything, being forced to figure out how to find and free Albrecht without hurting anyone might be a lesson she needed to learn.

He wasn't much of a teacher, but even he could try and steer someone in the right direction, now and again.

“There’s a lift,” she whispered to Gatz. Peering at the controls inside, she frowned. “Of course there’s no button labeled ‘dungeons’...”

"What about 'suspicious underground wine cellar?' They have something for that?"

 

[Eloise Dinn]

“Nobody’s perfect.”

She looked over the buttons. The lift would take them only as far as the ground floor. She supposed that was as good as they were going to get.

They descended. At the sound of a cheerful chime, the elevator doors opened to reveal a bustling kitchen. Of course King Horace had an elevator leading directly to his kitchens—

“Hey, ginger! You’re late! And what the devil are you wearing?”

Eloise had hardly taken a step out of the lift before she was assailed by a cook who thrust a silver tray into her hands. “Forget it. Get out there and serve this to His Majesty’s guests. On the double!”

Luckily the cook gestured in the direction of a certain door for emphasis, or else Eloise wouldn’t have had a clue where to go. She was swiftly swept out of the kitchens by the current of other servers, whether Gatz followed her or not.

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

“Nobody’s perfect.”

"Definitely not," Gatz agreed, "certainly not me. But we still have to try, Eloise."

The elevator doors opened, revealing a... a kitchen? Well, this wasn't exactly the place they wanted to be. Gatz was just about to key them for a different floor, only for Eloise to be mistaken for a serving girl. As much of a hurdle as that likely was, he still had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. Brusque and gruff as she was, Eloise would be about the worst waitress of all time.

Which the king's guests were about to find out.

With her being swept up in her new duties, Gatz figured the only thing to do was follow. He could hardly go looking for Albrecht only to lose Eloise in the process. So he deftly stepped out of the elevator and trailed her... only to be stopped by someone.

"Hey, you're not supposed to be in here."

"I'm a member of the king's entourage," Gatz waved two finger in front of the man's face.

"You're... a member of the king's entourage."

"Forgive me for the disruption."

"Forgive me... for the disruption."

Gatz stepped past the man, and continued following Eloise.

 

[Eloise Dinn]

Eloise emerged into a banquet hall full of rowdy guests, all of them men. Wine and ale flowed freely, and the feastgoers had already indulged themselves considerably. King Horace sat at the head of the table, digging into a roast nuna.

Eloise avoided a collision with another scurrying servant and began hurriedly serving the food on her tray. Why the hell they didn't use droids for this kind of labor was beyond her. Just another fethed up aspect of Ukatian culture…

Most of the guests were distracted, watching some sort of weird play. The three performers—a man dressed as a nun, a woman dressed as a knight, and a wild man with a long scraggly beard who kept cackling—were saying their lines. She kept her eyes on her task, but she could still hear the dialogue.

"My lord king," the nun said. "We have brought you the wizard. Along the way we passed through a village, and he wouldn't stop laughing at every tragic thing. We saw a poor man proudly carrying a pair of brand new shoes, his only possession of any value; a group of beggars waiting for alms outside the church, and a father weeping as his child was buried."

"Explain yourself, wizard," King Horace asked. Evidently he was part of the scene. "Why did you laugh at these events?"

The wild man was still giggling, his smile showing teeth blackened with rot. "I laughed at the poor man, carrying his new shoes so proudly, for he would die before he even reached his house. I laughed at the beggars, pleading for the tiniest morsel, for buried in the ground beneath them was hidden a treasure of immeasurable wealth. And I laughed at the mourning man, because the boy he was burying was really the son of the priest reading the funerary rites."

As each explanation was offered, the audience laughed harder and harder until it was difficult to hear the actors' lines. "Why did you laugh when you came into my court, wizard?" Horace bellowed.

"I laughed at you, Your Majesty, and I laughed at myself, for we have both been tricked," the wizard replied. "I laughed at this nun, who is really a man that uses this disguise to get into the queen's chamber. I laughed at the queen, who thinks herself so clever, hiding her lover from you—and yet she too has been deceived." He gestured to the knight. "And I laughed at Sir Silence, who has fooled us all. I told you that I could never be captured by a man, and that is true, for Silence is no man. Look!"

He deftly pulled a string behind her, and the knight's costume of armor fell away. The men whooped and cheered. Though she kept her head down, Eloise could see the actress' naked female form in her periphery. She was probably a whore who had volunteered for the role. At least, one hoped she was just a whore.

Distracted, Eloise accidentally spilled food on the lap of one of the guests. "Watch it, boy, or I'll have you flogged!" the nobleman snapped.

"I'd like to see you try," she snarled back.

"How dare you speak to me that way!"

Eloise stared him down—then suddenly she felt a hand clamp down on her elbow. King Horace looked up at her, a vicious smile on his face as he forced her palm down onto the tablecloth, fingers splayed.

She tried to escape, but the king's grip was literal durasteel, and the nobleman she had spilled food on blocked her exit, his gaze bloodthirsty as he watched the king reach for a carving knife with his other hand...

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

If there was one aspect of Ukatian culture that Gatz could appreciate, it was that the King employed people as his staff, not droids. In its own oppressive way, it meant that he was providing jobs for the commoners. He still hated the man for raising the piece of shit who'd tortured Corazona von Ascania , and he still hated him for being a king in general, but it was nice to see that people who'd grown up poor like Gatz had at least had some sort of wage.

He figured it wasn't enough to survive on, though.

Gatz didn't care much for the play going on in the room. Even the nude woman escaped his attention—so long as she remained undisturbed by the men in the chamber. What he did grimace at though, was Eloise spilling the drinks into the man's lap. He hoped that she'd apologize profusely, take a few insults with her head bowed, and get the hell out of there before a real incident could spark.

But, well, it was Eloise.

Then came King Horace, slamming her hand onto the table. A simple gesture perhaps, but one that revealed the kind of man he really was: a sadistic one, like his son after him. Like Kragan and Kreth—a father/son pair of monsters. That old desire to kill bloomed in Gatz's chest once more.

I could kill him here, sunder the crown of Ukatis, and put an end to a vile man who raised a vile son.

Nothing had ever seemed so tempting. It would be justice for what had been done to Cora. It would be justice for what had been done to all of Horace's other victims—and Gatz was certain that there were many. But, of all the things that should have stopped him, it was what Cora herself would say that stayed his hand.

He had no right to claim justice in her name. Even less of a right to commit murder in it.

But he still couldn't let him hurt Eloise.

"I've heard tale that the King of Ukatis is a gracious man. The very model of what a monarch ought to be."

Gatz announced his entrance into the room. He walked slow, dark hood still over his head, hands clasped behind his back, and lightsaber plainly visible on his belt. A symbol of what he was, and what he could do. But a Jedi was a peacekeeper first. He sought to end the conflict before it began. He sought a bloodless victory, not one won in carnage.

And a Jedi was what Gatz Derrevar was going to be.

"Surely, Your Majesty, that graciousness extends to showing mercy to a rebellious youth."

 

[Eloise Dinn]

King Horace’s eyes locked on to Gatz, his gaze burning with hatred to rival that of a Sith Lord. He had not forgotten the Councilors who snatched justice from his grasp, letting his son’s murderer walk free. Nor could he forget the power they held over him still, by way of blackmail.

Even now, this one had barged into his palace and was already meddling in his business. Horace stabbed the knife into the table, the handle wobbling to and fro, before he released his grip on the “rebellious youth”.

Eloise’s pupils had narrowed down to pinpricks, the green of her irises taking over. Had Gatz not intervened, she was prepared to kill every person in that room. “Forget,” she hissed, power passing between the minds of the guests. She straightened, backing away from the table and into the shadows. The play went on as if there had been no interruption.

“Strangle the nun. Send my former queen to the Tower,” the King declared. “Wizard, you shall serve me. And Silence…” Smiling, he beckoned to her with a finger. “Come and be my wife.”

There were cheers and laughter as the naked woman sat beside him, only for Horace to pull her into his lap with a meaty ring-laden hand. Eloise didn’t stay to watch what happened next, exiting quickly through the door back to the kitchens.

The Tower. Albrecht must be in the Tower. Wherever it was…

Gatz Derrevar​

 

[Gatz Derrevar]

Ship: The Red Night
Equipment: Outfit | Lightsaber
Tag: Eloise Dinn

“Forget,”

It wasn't a Force technique that Gatz was familiar with, but as he felt Eloise's presence fill the room, he was struck with a sensation of cold and dark. It was an invasive power, digging at the mind, manipulating it on a level far beyond that of the simple Jedi Mind Trick. Gatz should have been affronted, he knew. He should have taken issue with it.

But as he followed Eloise out of the room, quietly, all he could think was: she got herself out of that situation without so much as laying a scratch on anyone.

To be honest, he hadn't expected that of her. He liked Eloise, but she'd always seemed brutish and quick to strike. It seemed, though, that he had been too quick to judge. Maybe she used a power she shouldn't have, and maybe a better Jedi would have taken issue with it. But she'd chosen the path that wasn't dotted in blood just now. Not many Jedi could say they'd do that. Not these days.

So he gave no lecture. Instead, he simply caught up to her, and took her gently by the arm.

"Hey," his voice was quiet, "are you alright?"

 

[Eloise Dinn]

The moment Gatz put his hand on her arm, she jerked it away. “Don’t. Touch me,” she said. It started as a snarl, then became more of a half-hearted snap. Which was progress, right?

“Feth you,” Eloise would’ve said to the narrator if she’d been able to hear that.

“Fine,” she replied to Gatz. “I just used the fething Dark Side to avoid killing anyone. Is that not the most cringey chit imaginable? Whoever decided our powers should be classified by alignment is a fething—”

She muttered something unprintable as she dumped her empty silver tray. “The Tower. That’s where he said to send the queen, in that play. Albrecht is probably there. Now we need to find out where this Tower is.” Seizing the nearest cook by his collar, she deepened her voice and demanded, “Where is the Tower?”

“Which one?” the cook sputtered.

“The Tower. The one where they send noble prisoners to die.”

“Fifteen miles north of here, across the river. It’s in the western portion of the boroughs—”

She tossed him aside and stormed out of the kitchens, intent on her mission. The cook or other witnesses might talk, but at this point she didn’t care. Albrecht’s life was her only concern.

Gatz Derrevar​