Faction Unspeakable [CIS Adventure]

[Aspect of Defiance]

STEWJON | TEMPLE FOREST | EVENING​

The sun had not yet set on the near primitive world of Stewjon. Cerulean skies were just beginning to shed their cool hue for the vibrant and warm palette of pinks, reds, and oranges. Some would say the sunsets on this world could rival that of any planet, while others claimed no other could compare. It was not the sunset which brought those of the Knights Obsidian or the mystic witches which also walked among their number. Far better it might have been if that were the case, rather Stewjon found itself in need of aid from the force order of the Confederacy once again.

Dorian Ravenshield, the recently appointed Viceroy of Stewjon had gone missing. Whispers of terrible and unspeakable things, rumors of the Dark Ones resurfacing spread, throughout the planet once more. A proud Stewjonian, Dorian had made the decision to see to the disturbances himself and find an answer to the mysteries which surrounded the temple deep within Moorlock Forest. He had not returned. Days became weeks as the wife and children of the Viceroy worried for his safety. Without any sign, or hope, of any return, those closest to the family reached out to one of their own, Gerwald Lechner .

The Master Knight did not waste any time in assembling a team. Many would have forgotten the Dark Ones. They would have been another enemy in a long list of those the Knights Obsidian had put down in efforts to liberate the Southern Systems from the evils which bound them. Gerwald would never forget, could never forget. Stewjon was supposed to have been freed. How was it that rumors of the Dark Ones had spread once more? A Viceroy had gone missing.

The mission was simple. Locate the Viceroy, and should they encounter the Dark Ones, destroy them all.

Something sinister lay at the center of the wood, an abandoned temple which cast a shadow over the entirety of the forest. It was thick, tangible, the kind of muck and ilk which could entrap any who stepped beyond the boundaries of the wood. Stories designed to keep children from wandering into the forest had claimed that it was alive, that the trees were monsters waiting to snatch up those that went astray.

These were the stories those who assembled to help heard as they gathered in a tavern. The room smelled of honey mead and whatever tobacco and weed filled the pipes of the men who smoked them. Despite the efforts of those who had governed Stewjon since the Confederacy brought them into the fold it was clear the castes and classes still dominated the everyday life of the people. Many of the people bore the telling signs of a hard life working for the Lords which governed their lands. Not one seemed to be untouched by the hot sun or the calluses of manual labor.

A long table rest in the center of the open room where the Knights would gather. One by one they arrived and found a chair, or a place to stand. There would not be a need for a long briefing, but a briefing was needed nonetheless. Moorlock Forest was not far, and sunset would be upon them soon.

And what terrors awaited them when the sun set and the moon was high.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: xxx
TAG: N/A

It was rare Gerwald received any word from the planet of his birth. Stewjon had been his home for almost 3 decades, and yet ever since he left the planet over two years ago, the Lupine found himself growing more and more detached to it. He had become educated beyond what was allowed a simple warrior. Technology the likes of which Gerwald could have only dreamed of was at his fingertips. Much of the way he lived now was in stark contrast to the way life had been on Stewjon. There was much that was different, perhaps the most important was the freedom Gerwald had to be himself. There was no more hiding the wolf, not even from those of his homeworld.​

​

They looked at him different now. As the Lupine walked off the ship in his armor he could feel the eyes staring at him. There were those who thought him a hero, and others thought him to be the very spawn of the evil one himself. Regardless of whatever opinion was formed there was only one which mattered to the people now. Gerwald Lechner was their best chance at locating their missing Viceroy.​

​

Gerwald had just finished a run in the lake country of the Confederacy's new capital when the news had reached him. Part of him had been surprised he had been asked from by name, and regardless of his past how could he refuse. His duty went beyond that of a Knight Obsidian in this matter, but one of his own, a fellow warrior, had gone missing.​

​

Dorian had been a promising student when Gerwald first met him. His training had gone well. The Viceroy would become one of the first to move beyond their station and class. While there was still a system which benefited those who had more than those who did not, change was happening, even if it was slow. Gerwald was at least proud of that fact.​

​

Naturally Gerwald would not be traveling alone. At any given time the Master Knight had several squires which he could call upon for assistance. All of them had been notified to either accompany him or meet him on Stewjon. Redd , Fury of Aerðs , and Vanir Eris , were all about doing the things the freedom Gerwald gave them allowed, however, Gerwald hoped they would at least understand the urgency of a missing Viceroy.​

​

His ship landed just behind the tavern on the outskirts of the small village which was near Moorlock Forest. It had been a long time, or a seeming long time, since Gerwald had come this close to the temple which had housed the Dark Ones. Those had been dark days, and long nights. They had been so overrun that their only hope had been the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Their presence had made all the difference, and it had been then Gerwald learned there were others like him, a discovery that had changed the trajectory of his life.​

​

He sat at the table allowing the visions of those battles form in his mind. Gerwald replayed every step into the wood, recalling the path which would lead them to the temple. It was otherworldly, or so they had said then. The wolf wondered what he would think of it now that he knew different. What many on Stewjon called otherworldly was simply the force. Gerwald was curious to know how much of the force it was. This was where his mind would be as all those who were coming would find their way to the rendezvous he had established.​

 

[Meili Feng]

Location: Stewjon
Wearing: This
Tagging: Gerwald Lechner

"Go with him, maybe you'll learn something about how the Confederacy, how the galaxy works."

It had seemed so easy to do at the time when the idea had first been floated to her by her commanders. A chance to get away from standard guard duty and see parts of the galaxy that she'd never heard of...which wasn't honestly really she'd barely heard of any of it. Sure, everyone had heard of the big planets, Coruscant, Corellia etc. The Core, the planets that had for so long been at the centre of galactic politics and history. The planets that had shaped the galaxy as it was today. Even out on Shuiqui, they’d heard of the big names, the petite woman had even marked them on a bucket list of places to visit and explore.

The Galaxy was just so big, far far bigger than she’d imagined it would be. As a child she’d snuck out of her room to clamber up onto the roof, lying with her back to the cool tiles as the clouds above would part bathing the world around her in the silvery light of the moon and stars. So many stars that you couldn’t count them, that you’d lose track if you tried. Little twinkling diamonds scattered across the velvet darkness of the sky. The little girl she’d once been had closed her eyes and imagined each star a planet, each containing another little girl staring at the sky with eyes full of mystery and wonder. She’d wondered what their lives would be like, on those worlds for all those other little girls.

The truth she’d found lacked any of the mystery and wonder she’d imagined as a child.

Life on one planet or the other was…mundane. The same stories, the same emotions just played out with different actors. So many of the aliens she’d met might have looked so different but in the end, the way they acted, the mannerisms, they all really weren’t so different from one another, from the people back home. Or well…at least most of them weren’t.

The petite woman took a look at the man seated across from her as the ship landed. She knew he was a Force User, she could almost smell it on him, the way the world seemed to flow and twitch around him. It was the same feeling she got from her mother, and look how well that turned out for her. If the man was anything like her mother…why did they have to send her on this trip, surely someone else would be better at…ohh right, tracker.

Dark eyes closed for a moment, the briefest flicker, all the time that the woman would give herself to bemoan her fate, all the sign she would give of her displeasure. Small signs, small action could speak volumes and she wasn’t about to give more of herself away than she had to. After all, she had to work with him for this mission, and who knows maybe he’d come in handy. He was supposed to know the place and well, on the ground knowledge would be no small advantage on a mission like this.

Pushing herself to her feet the woman reached behind her for the jacket draped over the back of her chair, plucking it up with a practised motion as she slid her arms into the sleeves before following the long-haired Sith outside. The first that that hit her was the smell of grass, that familiar smell. You only had to close your eyes and you could be almost anywhere in the galaxy. She just had to close her eyes and she could be home again. For a moment Meiling could feel something in the back of her throat forcing her to swallow, it was the same smell that she smelt when waking up in the morning, the wind carrying it through the open windows of her bedroom. The first smell that hit you when getting out of a speeder. It was the smell of home, of her father’s face when she first managed to flip him onto the grass, tumbling round and round when he knocked her legs out from under her till the grass stains covered both of their clothes and her mother was yelling at them from the house as they lay laughing. It was the smell of home, of family.

A deep breath, savouring it for a moment before slowly exhaling and opening her eyes, boots clanking on the metal of the steps as she dismounted to stand near Gerwald. One hand reached up to settle the jacket on her shoulders, the other reaching down to check the staff folded at her side before nodding.

“Feels good to be home?”

 

[Damien Van-Derveld]

wearing: xxx | w. Telula Vale
​

Things of the night were best left to those who were made of it. Damien had long known the evil which ran through his veins. The dark mire tainted everything it touched, the curse of his grandmother running through his veins. He was more than a wolf, but also a witch. The Nighbrother had been raised among the dark and mysterious. It was why he answered the call of his cousin's former lover. They did not know each other, nor did Damien care to know him. His life was devoted to himself, and to the witches he called sister or brother. This fight, the search, whatever it would become, was tainted by the same evil Damien knew intimately.

He was not alone on this mission. Something a curious nature was developing between himself and the petite blonde which accompanied him. Telula Vale was someone he kept meeting until the day had come when they learned of their shared commitment. She herself was a witch loyal to the Confederacy. She did not seem to fit the part, but then appearances were not everything. Damien knew it all too well.

Perhaps she had felt the evil in his bones, or suspected he was different. One fact still remained, Damien had yet to tell her about the wolf. Damien had a feeling this mission would change that. He could not explain it, but it was strong.

"Something is wrong... feels wrong."

The words were sudden, breaking the silence the two had been sharing as the drop ship landed.

Damien stood as Telula gave her answer or didn't. They were nearing the rendezvous, and Damien did not want to miss the details of what this was about.

"We should hurry. You are ready, yes?"

 

[Telula Vale]

Wearing: [X]
Tags: | Damien Van-Derveld |

-------------------------

It was a strange thing, really. Most people who asked or even suggested things of/to her were immediately shut down and would send Telula running the other direction. Thus far there were two real exceptions to this; the Nightmother of course, whom Lula had warmed to quickly. And then there was Damien, whom she only continued to run across in situations of pure circumstance, and yet she easily found herself able to speak up to him or speak to him at all, really. It was how the pair of them discovered their shared allegiances, and that seemed to have at least created some sort of friendly (or perhaps tolerable on his end?) bond between them.

So when news of this call for aid had reached Lula, and she found that Damien was going about as well? There had been no real room for debate over the matter. She had agreed to go, to assist where she could, and this time? The witchling made damn sure that her Galek hound was ever diligent at her side. It was much easier to deal with any given situation when Kai was with her, and with the hound on one side and Damien on the other, not being hidden behind books and beakers was not such a bad thing.

That fact did nothing to quell the unease in her stomach for outside forces, however. Even Kai rose from where he lay to a seated position instead, rumbling deep in his chest at the sensations that filled the very air. Lula reached a hand out to soothe the beast, but it did no good, so instead her focus shift to Damien when he spoke to her.

"I'm ready, yes." she answered him with a nod before she stood. Kai too rose to his full height and he stuck close to Telula's side anywhere she moved. The blonde exhaled heavily, but managed a tight smile and another, single nod to further emphasize her readiness for departure before she put one foot in front of the other to make way towards the rendezvous point.

 

[Vytal Noctura]

​

Vytal Noctura's eyebrow rose at a report of a missing Viceroy investigating strange activity in a nearby wood. Strange being an understatement, as it was speculated to be related to the Dark Ones that once plagued them. Naturally, the Nightmother brought this matter to the attention of the Solanaceae coven and its covensteads throughout the Confederacy to gather those eager to explore these unusual circumstances -- and if nothing else ensure the Viceroys didn't become irrationally upset at the lost of one of their own.

While not doubting her Sisters and Brothers' abilities, Vytal also reached out to a squad of Ranger Pathfinders ( Anakwor Farlorn ) to supplement this excursion. Word had it they were in need of an assignment, and while they might not possess a deep magical aptitude, their training in tracking or the wilds could still prove useful given the circumstances. If they were all lucky this would be nothing more than a search and rescue; which meant the more bodies on the ground, the wider the net they could cast.

The rendezvous location was sent out to those that would come, and the Nightmother set out to meet them there.

Upon her arrival, the pale woman did not immediately enter the tavern, however. Her green eyes peered out into the distance in the direction of the woods while the sun had still yet to set. The Witch listened to the currents of the ether -- the Force as some called it -- for a cry for help or a sense of danger to follow. Whether people stared curious why such a pale woman stood there gazing into the distance did not distract Vytal from her task. It was a natural occurrence.

At last, she turned and strode toward the door. Before entering it, however, she traced the tip of her index finger to the side of the door on the wall of the establishment. A faint mark manifested itself there likely only noticed by those that looked for it, or just happen to be staring with nothing better to do at the wall of a building. There was no sign of imminent threat -- this Viceroy had been gone weeks -- but Vytal would rather a ward set regardless for the time being.

Only then did she step inside to find those assembled before a table. Including her chief fan, Gerwald Lechner. He was not a detractor, though he was not one inclined toward witches it seemed. The Witch nodded, but did not interrupt any reply the man might give Meili.

Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Meili Feng

 

[Kurenai Yumi]

Brave, maybe, foolish, quite if she had anything to say about the Viceroys actions in trying to sort this mess on his own even if he was well trained. Had the rolls been reversed she would have assembled a team of sorts before delving into an unknown threat regardless of her skill level or potential threat. Alas what happened happened and it was up to the Obsidian Knights to investigate and track down the ruler along with disposing of any 'dark one' that may be behind his disappearance.

It was fitting that Gerwald Lechner would be leading this mission, among being called personally his nose was among the greatest in the CIS for sniffing down people, be it friend or foe. Though her own wasn't far off it required the person of interest to be bleeding and considering this was a rescue mission of sorts such was not really wanted. Still, there was more then on way to track down a ghosts and during her time alive Kurenai had picked up a few things here and there.

As the vampire feet touched down on the dark brown soil it was evident just in the air that this place was shrouded in an eerie darkness so evident a Vong could feel it. If this is how the planet felt now she could only dread slightly of it's situation before the CIS had intervened, it made the presence of the Knights make even more sense as she strode towards the tavern in question a few steps behind Vytal Noctura .

The smoke and tobacco filled air hit her nose like a freighter at light speed, the people here sure knew how to keep themselves entertained. It was a small so much different from many of the galaxies cantinas and clubs a sort of rustic down to earth scent she herself loved. Moving closer to the table where her comrades were assembled Kurenai produced a cigar of her own, a quick flick of pyrokinesis from her fingers lighting the tip upon sitting down.

A small wave being directed towards the two familiar faces followed by a nod towards the unknown women.

Meili Feng

 

[Anakwor Farlorn]

FARLORN'S FORLORN

CHAPTER FIVE: FURY OF SILENCE
PART ONE​

Location: Stewjon

Tags: Vytal Noctura Gerwald Lechner

The four pathfinders stuck out against the population of this settlement like a blood trail in the white snow. Against the hired guns and mercenaries that seemed to be all over this forsaken place, they were utterly different. Where the gangsters had oversized blasters with massive barrels, complete with extensive decorations and carvings, they simply had short simple snub-carbines that looked unassuming for the whole world to see, save for one who had a long-barreled sniper with a large scope. If any of them had placed them on a bar, they surely would have been laughed out, after being robbed blind of course.

Where the gunmen wore colorful clothes that screamed out their gang or outfit heritage and proclaimed the names they had taken, nearly every single one unique in a blinding way, these soldiers wore dark khaki uniforms, brown corduroy breeches, slouch-caps, and black gear webbing around their chest. Around their necks were black camo-capes capable of absorbing surface colors from anything they rubbed against.

But no-one dared to touch the four troopers as they simply strolled down the street. It was something about the way they moved, well-drilled and disciplined, every single member of the squad covering every conceivable angle of attack. They shot looks at any threats that approached them that gave no doubt to the severity of the punishment if they decided to be aggressive but looked calm and collected to civilians, friendly and open foreign soldiers.

Striding in the middle of the formation was Lorota Hark. The Carian was a short and stout woman with a sloppy black hair and a weather-beaten nut-brown face. Though she looked unassuming, she could kill an entire platoon without a single enemy even being aware they were even dead. She had done so several times already in her year and a half of service in the Carian First-and-Only Regiment. Being the Pathfinder-Master, she seemed to exist in a half-light even though she was walking right in the middle of the street. It was hard to notice her unless was staring at her directly.

Harkonen Gavin at her side was Hark’s second-in-command and her most trusted confidant right next to the Colonel. Though Hark had trained most of her pathfinders personally, she had taken to molding Gavin to her image, to be the model scout that would take up her mantle if she ever met her end. He was a tall man in his thirties, sporting bright green eyes and a blunt nose.

Next to Gavin, Marksman Genswick was carrying the BCR-X13 Sniper Rifle. He wasn’t officially a pathfinder, being part of the Sniper Platoon under the command of Markus but Hark had chosen him to come along on this strange assignment since he was the closet damn thing in that platoon to a scout. In fact, during the initial formation of the Regiment, she had fought hard to have Genswick placed under her training, seeing the great potential within him. However, after a nearly unbelievable shot in Atrisia, where he severed the head of an infected about to pounce on Colonel Farlorn from nearly seven hundred meters away, in the face of hurricane-force winds and sheet rain, Markus had won that game.

Just behind them, Pradesh brought up the rear. He was the new inductee in Hark’s platoon, recently promoted after his actions on Ryloth. He was a natural sprinter, able to run at full speed through the bush without making a noise louder than a whisper. This was his first mission and he had a lot to prove. He could not afford to make any mistakes so he held himself to full attention.

“This the place?” Gavin asked as they stopped outside the facade of a drab little tavern. There was a reserved way he talked, almost to the point of being shy. It contrasted heavily with his lean and heavy build. It came as a given that nearly all Carians were soft-speaking people.

“Think it is,” Hark said as she consulted the data-slate in her hand. “Well, it is where she told us to come.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, ma’am,” Genswick leaned back on a support beam but his guard didn’t lower, his left hand loosely holding the blaster’s grip, ready for anything. “What are we doing here? I mean, we’re far-away from the rest of the Regiment and we ain’t even under the command of the Colonel.”

“Nightmother Vytal has requested our presence in an operation to recover a missing person on this world.” The Master of Pathfinders explained, short, simple, and to the point.

“We’re away from the rest just to find some random tourist that got their asses lost?” Pradesh muttered. Hark sighed. Somehow, when he was birthed, he seemed to have the defect of not being able to control the shit that came out of his mouth.

“We’re here because that sorry “tourist” that got lost is the Viceroy of this world,”

“Well, crap on a shingle,” Pradesh said. “That ain’t so random anymore.”

“You got it, soldier, now just shut up and stay out here.” Hark turned around. “I’m going in to see what’s going on and report in the Witch that we’re here.”

Hark stowed away her carbine and hung it over he shoulder by its leather strap as she stepped in through those doors. The first thing that hit her nose, attuned to unnatural smells, was the heavy hint of sweat and cigars all around her. The trading and consumption of alcohol was trough the roof here. It was noisy, the voices erupting all around her seeming to blend together into one solid wall of sound. Even if she focused, she couldn’t discern a single voice or conversation.

It was so different from how life was on back on the homeworld, when it was still home. Bars and restaurants would typically be silent and reserved, reflected the behavior and culture of the people that lived there. Anyone who seemed to raise their voice outside of a celebration for a bountiful hunt or harvest would get looks from every single eye around them. That tended to shut them up quickly.

All this cacophony of noise reminded Hark of how far away home was, not even in this sector, on the other side of the Confederacy. She wanted to go home badly, to allow herself to slink back in the shadowy mires of the familiar comforting swamps.

Hark reminded herself that she couldn’t go home, none of the Regiment could for there was no such thing as a home for them, lost forever to the hate of the Empire they had defeated those years ago. It was the reason so many of the other Rangers were so dedicated to the extent that a few considered themselves dead already, allowing themselves to be spent by their commander like currency on the battlefield, a blood-soaked currency to be sure. They were doing all of this as a desperate struggle against the darkness that was their inevitable extinction, to make a difference to the Galaxy and protect anyone from the horror of losing their homes and people.

She snapped back to attention, almost surprised at herself for getting lost in her thoughts when she had a job to do. It was a condition almost synonymous with the Regiment, the call of their mother telling them to return to her bosom, an empty call. She couldn’t allow it to happen again when they were in the field or they would all suffer dearly. They couldn’t make a difference to the Galaxy if they were dead for now reason.

She found them around a long table at the end of the bar. She didn’t know much about the knights nor did she really care since they rarely ever met with grunt troopers like her. So it was certainly a sight to see so many of them gathered here. She didn’t know a single face save for the Nightmother who she didn’t even personally know. Her job was in her title, to find the right path for her Regiment to thread, yet she found herself quite lost.

“Ma’am,” She instinctively referred to the Vytal Noctura who was the one who had brought her and her squad here in the first place, “Pathfinder Hark reporting in for duty. I have two of my best men and a marksman outside ready for your orders. I must admit... this is a rather unique experience and honor to be in the presence of so many notable individuals of the Independent Systems.”

 

[Saram Kote]

​

​

SECURE HVT​

​

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Spoiler: Equipment

• Armor:
  • 'Vuhyr'yalilyr'gam'
  • Vambrace Weapons:
    • TBP-01V Tractor-Pressor Beam Projector
    • PC-05V Plasma Caster
      • Plasma Gas Medium Canister (1)
    • MML-01V Miniaturized Missile Launcher
      • Electro Darts (4)
      • Explosive Darts (4)
      • Surveillance Tagger Darts (4)
    • NML-02VTB Nano missile Launcher
• Implant(s):
  • 'Rammikad' Enhancement Package
• Melee:
  • B-01M Beskad
  • Mono-molecular Edge Beskar Kal Dagger (1)
• Sidearm(s)
  • LRH-5A Verpine Shatter Pistol
• Rifle(s):
  • BR-6B Verpine Shatter Battle Rifle w/ UGL-02 Underbarrel Grenade Launcher and 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' Optics System Long Range variant
  • AMR-4M Verpine Shatter Anti-Materiel Rifle w/ 'Kyrayc Sur'haai' Optics System Extreme Range variant
• Explosives:
  • Det-Packs (2)
  • Flex-5 Detonite Tape (1 roll)
  • Smoke Grenades (3)
  • Flash-Bang Grenades (3)
  • Concussion Grenade (2)
  • NOVA40 Plasma Grenade (2)

​

​

​

If Saram didn't know better, she'd say that the CIS had some sort of serious problem with Viceroys going missing. This time it was the world of Stewjon. This time, she'd brought the rest of her squad with her. Truth be told, the last time she went to help with a missing Viceroy, she was glad Davaab weren't with her. She wouldn't wish what she'd fought and what she'd witnessed on her worst enemy.​

​

She looked down at the AMR-4M Anti-Materiel Rifle she held in her hands. They were all doing last minute gear checks given that they were on final approach now. She cleared her throat to get their attention and then said, "Alright, let's go over the plan one more time. Stewjon isn't out show, we're just there to provide specialist assistance in looking for the Viceroy. I want everyone on their best behavior. Remember, professional. Someone looks at you funny or says something stupid, the worst I expect out of any of your is a vicious stare." ​

​

"Come on, alor, when have we ever been anything but?" asked Ran Netra. Saram exhaled sharply, a smile on her face. She could think of a few times, but none where they'd pissed off a client. "Jokes aside, we land, meet Master Knight Lechner and see how they want to take the investigation forward, right?" They were all aware of the plan, she found that it always helped to go over it once before actually setting out.​

​

"You're my second for a reason, Ran'ika," she said, nodding. "Once we land, we'll leave the speeders on the gunship till we need 'em. Gunship will stay on the pad unless we need it. If we need it, safe to say things have gone to haran in a handbasket. Any questions?" Saram was very much hoping they would not need to call in their gunship. At that point, her concerns that there was definitely something more going on that they'd initially been told would be confirmed. Then again, since when were the Knights shabla Obsidian ever called in to something that didn't involve force based anomalies and threats? Not for as long as she'd worked for the CIS.​

​

"Yeah, any indication on whether we need to bring all of the explosives, or only some of them?" asked Anila Kyrr, their explosives expert. Her comment elicited chuckles from the rest of the squad. They weren't exactly packing light, but at the same time she was more than a little concerned about what it was that they were going to be dealing with. It paid to be careful, even if that meant appearing paranoid at first.​

​

"Ret'lini," she said with a nod. With a glance at her HUD, she noticed that they were on final approach. "Alright, vode, it's time to get to work." The gunship touched down on it's landing struts before long, and after a quick exchanged word with the crew they were on their way to the rendezvous. There were a few odd looks here and there, but no one dared to stop them. Eight heavily armed Mandalorians in what was clearly some sort of infiltration focused armor, the mere concept of Mandalorians that couldn't be seen was usually enough to scare most scum that might normally try to cause a problem.​

​

No one said anything as they walked. There was something distinctly odd about the planet, it wasn't that they weren't quite up to modern standards just yet. None of them could quite put their finger on what it was that was wrong. Something, however, was definitely wrong. They made it to the pub and all eight of her rammikade filed in behind her. She ran a quick ID scan on everyone she could see, it wasn't hard to find both Gerwald Lechner and Vytal Noctura , though the system took a moment to identify Meili Feng and Kurenai Yumi . She didn't say anything just yet, but just waited for Gerwald Lechner to finish with Meili Feng .​

 

[Redd]

APPRENTICE​

Tags: Gerwald Lechner | Vytal Noctura | Kurenai Yumi | Saram Kote | Meili Feng​

Redd had heeded Gerwald’s call. When it had come, the wolf had not wanted to seperate from her mate, but the woman needed to help her brother and master. She knew that he wouldn’t call upon her unless he needed her and it sounded important. Something about a Viceroy going missing. Were they not allowed to go missing? Did he perhaps wander off into a bush and met his natural end with the wildlife? The woman couldn’t be certain. Either way the wolf had donned her Beskar’gam that was slowly becoming almost like a second skin and had accompanied Gerwald to Stewjon. A place that she did not know much about. In fact, while she had wanted to pay attention to the area around her, she just could not focus. Her mind was elsewhere.

Golden green eyes looked to Gerwald as the ship landed, but Redd simply decided to wait for Gerwald and the other woman to leave before she shifted. The shift was the standard ninety seconds for her age, but the Beskar ’gam’s segmented plates, dismantled, only to redistribute over her newly shifted wolf form. Yet even the shift couldn’t bring her to focus on the shifting forces around her. Her mind was elsewhere thinking about the fact that Haastal had asked her to leave the Knight’s Obsidian and the red wolf had not been able to bring herself to approach Gerwald about it. There never seemed to be a time well enough to talk to the man, for he always seemed to be out doing one thing or another.

The armored wolf soon left the ship quietly, with paws that padded against the earth and followed the scent of Gerwald and many others to the temple. Golden eyes looked to those that had already begun to gather within, but she did not go to Gerwald’s side. Instead, the red wolf moved to the outskirts of the room so then she would have a better advantage if everything all went to hell. However, her gaze shifted to view Vytal Noctura with black hair. For she recognised the scent. Somehow, it was familiar but Redd could not be too certain. She had met many new people of late and with the amount of missions that she had gone out on, it was hard to say where she recognised the scent from.

Quietly, She sat back about her haunches then, while her tongue moved to lick her muzzle. Her gaze, however, shifted to Gerwald and she watched his own quiet stance, if only for a moment. For her thoughts quickly returned back to her mate, Haastal and strangely enough, she felt homesick. The wolf wanted nothing more than to feel her mate at her side once more as they went on more adventures and raided more ships for Beskar. To go on random killing sprees and to enjoy the warmth of the man that she had grown rather close to. In all honesty, the wolf felt out of place amongst all of those gathered here. Except even as she thought it, her gaze fell upon a Mandalorian and her head angled slightly to the right if only for a moment, before her gaze shifted away.

She tried to pull her mind out from the wandering that it seemed to be mindlessly doing, but it was difficult considering she wanted to be somewhere else at this point. Somewhere far, far away from here. Yet she tried to wrestle with that instinct to return to her mate and she tried to focus upon the current situation. The one that had them all gathering at this one particular spot.​

​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

​

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: xxx
WITH: Meili Feng | Redd
TAG: Anakwor Farlorn | Kurenai Yumi | Vytal Noctura | Telula Vale | Damien Van-Derveld | Saram Kote

​

"Rarely," Gerwald answered Meili Feng with one word.​

​

He did not intend to sound rude or come across as though he was dismissing his newest traveling companion, but Gerwald was preoccupied. While she was reminded of home, Gerwald could not help be replay the memories of the darkest days his people had ever seen. He had left home once it was done. The Confederacy had come in, helped them, and Gerwald left without a word. It always meant he received different looks when he returned. To some he was a hero, and to others he was a traitor. Then there had been the matter of his sister. Alwine had been caged, when she had been freed they immediately found their parents and killed them. Such stories always took on a life of their own, and to many Gerwald was as much a demon of the night as the Dark Ones which had once plagued Stewjon.​

​

Gerwald could feel the eyes on him, on the tracker which traveled with him, and the wolf at his side. A shake of his head along with a smirk played at his lips. Redd was transforming into a wolf when they were on missions together. It made it hard to train her, teach her what she needed to know, but this was her choice. Gerwald would never impose the prison on any of his students his mother had raised him in. If she wanted to be a wolf then a wolf she would be.​

​

Others gathered. This was going to be a hard thing to explain as Gerwald did not know everything. There was not much to go on. A Viceroy was missing after exploring rumors that the temple where the Dark Ones had been defeated was active once again. This would not be good news if it were true, but Dorian had not returned to confirm or deny. If this was the Dark Ones once more, then they were going to need all the help they could get. At least this time Gerwald was trained, and he carried the evidence of hit in the form of the lightsbaer which hung about his waist. Still, there would be something else he would want if it was true.​

​

Where had he buried it?​

​

Gerwald could not remember.​

​

Blue eyes scanned the room as they took in all who gathered so far. His nose had counted three shifters among the group, one of which was a witch. The Nightmother was there with another of hers also. A small nod was offered to her as the Lupine was beginning to make efforts to repair the relationship he had with that part of the Confederacy. Vytal Noctura was not the same nightmother which had wounded him, and it was not fair to cast his distaste on her order. Kurenai Yumi was there, the energy vampire would be beneficial if things were the worst Gerwald could imagine. They had also attracted a Mandalorian and a soldier. Both brought teams with them. Good.​

​

Large hands pressed against the table as Gerwald stood to his full intimidating height. It was time to address them all.​

​

"Thank you all for coming. I believe we are waiting on a few more, but since time is of the essence let me explain what the mission request did not. As you know Stewjon's Viceroy has gone missing, but what you have not been told was that he went missing investigating the temple which lays at the center of the wood just outside this door."​

​

Gerwald lifted a hand and motioned toward the woods as he walked to the window just behind him. His eyes stared out toward the forest for a time. It was quiet, awkwardly so.​

​

"The temple was the sight of the final battle between the Confederacy and the Dark Ones several years ago. Most of you were not here for it, but I was there, before I joined the Knights Obsidian." Gerwald did not look away from the window as he spoke. "If I were a praying man, my prayers at night would have included the hope these creatures would never return, but it seems they may have. Dorian was investigating this rumor when he disappeared. All we know is that he was last seen here before heading to the temple. He has not returned. We must find him, that is the priority."​

​

Turning on his heels, Gerwald looked to the group which had assembled once more. Would they be up for the task, Gerwald did not know.​

​

"If the Dark Ones have returned, then it will be on us to ensure we eradicate them completely. Stewjon cannot be left to the devastation they cause ever again."​

​

There was a passion in Gerwald's voice. While Stewjon no longer felt like home, he still cared for the place he spent his most formative years. The memories were not pleasant, but this had been home once. For the sake of the people, the ones he had abandoned, Gerwald would fight til his last breath if it was required.​

​

"Prepare yourselves, get whatever you need from your ships. We will leave shortly. Until then, no one fights alone. Groups of two or three. Establish them before we leave."​

 

[Vytal Noctura]

Gradually a party was beginning to form to locate the wayward Viceroy. Gerwald should be pleased. The Viceroyalty moreso provided their task was not met with failure resulting in endless number of committee hearings and paperwork.

One set of recruits had their commanding officer draw up before the pale Witch, which drew the woman to turn and regard Hark as she spoke. The Pathfinders had arrived. Good. No matter how powerful a person could be there were times when raw skill was needed -- areas that suppressed spiritual energies in particular. Vytal expected these men and women to contribute to their effort. "If we are lucky, it will be an experience without the need for a marksman," Vytal replied. "Though I suspect you will not be so bored. I look forward to observing you and your men in action, Pathfinder Hark."

Not long afterward several Mandalorians walked into the establishment. Vytal wondered if Gerwald had called them, or if the heavily armed people had taken it upon themselves to show up. There seemed to be a number of them as of late. As the Nightmother recalled, they seemed to be offering their services as an exchange for their presence. Seeing how the Mandalorians didn't like answering to any but themselves, they weren't another extension of the Confederacy proper. Or so Vytal assumed. If she had time, the Witch might have thought to visit their hideaway; but only if there was cause. There was already a great deal to do, and she was a bit... cautious when it came to those women and men. They had, after all, attempted to claim ownership of Dathomir before the Sith forced them out.

Fortunately, Gerwald launched straight into the briefing without waiting for stragglers to arrive. Even if this turned out to be more than it seemed, she doubted bringing anyone else up to speed would require more than a few succinct words. If they'd wanted more details they could attend the briefings. They might not be exciting, but they could contain information of import later.

Personal reminiscence aside, the briefing was as short as Vytal expected. A Viceroy went into the woods to a temple where an old enemy once surfaced and had not returned; and the people were in danger if the old enemy was still out there. Nothing more, nothing less. Search and rescue with an element of vague danger.

"Pathfinder Hark," Vytal turned to regard the woman once more, "your appraisal of the situation?" It would be very easy for her to distribute her men among those present, but being less familiar with their unity cohesion and abilities that would be foolish. Hark knew their capabilities best, and so the Witch would defer to her on this matter.

Tag: Anakwor Farlorn | Kurenai Yumi | Gerwald Lechner | Telula Vale | Damien Van-Derveld | Saram Kote | Meili Feng | Redd

 

[Hisashi]

Location: Unknown, Stewjon
Nearby: None

Cold.

Hungry.

Coherent thought was an illusion to the Shinobi. All that existed were these twin realities, battling within his mind. If one posed the question as to how he got to Stewjon, Hisashi would not have been able to answer. In fact, outside of the condition of his flesh and his desire to sustain it, there was only one memory which played before his mind's eye. Reality had shattered for the man. The ache in his chest - the sting of a heart shattered underfoot - had been an adversary too mighty to best.

His blade, the trusted ally, had been turned against him.

By his own hand, the steel had rent open his midsection.

He watched as his innards spilled out upon the flowing grasses below. He felt the cold of Death creep upon his form. And yet, despite his best efforts, he...lived. But his survival had brought freedom. Liberation from the one-sided affections towards the fiery-haired woman. Freedom from the longing and the ache in his soul. Now, he was free. Free to be cold. Free to be hungry. Perhaps here, on this strange and distant world, he would find the means to remedy both. For now, surrounded by strange stones and even stranger faces...

The Shinobi put one foot after the other.​

 

[Kurenai Yumi]

No sooner had they sat down did the briefing start, but not before their presence was greeted by a few more people, two groups to be specific. One was of dauntless commandos, identifying themselves as pathfinders, seeming to be here to be here on the command of Vytal Noctura judging from their greeting and subsequent response from the night mother.

The other group was an unknown group of Mandalorians, probably free lancers considering their home world was still under the boot of the Sith Empire. If so their presence was odd but she would give them the benefit of the doubt for the time being, after all if this problem was as bad as she though the rescue party would need all the help they could muster.

Her attention on the two military groups would shift back to Gerwald Lechner as he started the informal briefing. It was short and to the point, something she appreciated but also knew was necessary. Each minute they waited only increased the danger and lessened the odds of the Viceroys survival, he was also smart enough to order groups, last thing they needed was even more people vanishing into the woods by thinking they could fix the problem on their own... perhaps the two military units now in their presence wasn't such a bad thing.

Though others may need time to get ready she had already brought a full combat load out, a quick field check showing her equipment to be fully operational. It was a partially habit and experience but also mixed in with the apparent haste of the situation and the chance to stumble across the enemy at any points. If even Gerwald was wary of these 'dark ones' to the extent he wanted to make sure their kind was exterminated no chances could be taken, hopefully the others understood that as well.

Looking up form her weapons she prompted a question to no one in particular, "So, how shall we be organised? have fire teams with a force user in them to give flexibility? or should we be grouped up depending on combat capability"? Out of everyone here she had only been on missions with Gerwald himself

Hisashi Redd Saram Kote Meili Feng Damien Van-Derveld Anakwor Farlorn Tellu Talon
[/div]

 

[Anakwor Farlorn]

FARLORN'S FORLORN

CHAPTER FIVE: FURY OF SILENCE
PART TWO​

Location: Stewjon, Tavern
Character: Pathfinder-Master Hark of the Caria First-and-Only
Tags: Vytal Noctura Redd Saram Kote Meili Feng Damien Van-Derveld Telula Vale Gerwald Lechner

“Forgive me Nightmother, but I’m the sort of person that likes to be sure. It was either this or getting a heavy weapons team and I much prefer subtlety. Don’t worry about my sniper, Genswick, he’s got eyes that can see the wings of a grain gnat from a hundred meters away and shoot ‘em off.” Hark replied to Vytal Noctura 's remark. "I do not like making it a habit to disappoint.”

Hark looked over those gathered at the table and she didn’t quite know what to make of them. These were Knights of Obsidian, those infamous force wielders that had pledged themselves in the name of the Confederacy and the Vicelord, may His name be ever praised.

Colonel Farlorn had once spoken about the Knights with great respect for their allegiance to the Southern Systems and their willingness to give it their all, yet he did not hide the fact that he too barely understood the strange methods they used and disliked the fact they were independent of the military structure, it’s members having personal agendas of their own that could somehow override orders from the top. In his view, they should have been another branch of Dauntless, it’s members specialists that commanders could directly call upon in times of need to annihilate all those that would oppose them in battle with their powers.

Personally, Hark felt uneasy around them. The Pathfinder did not pretend to know anything about the strange method of magick and trickery that these “force-sensitives” possessed. She had an inherent dislike for things she didn’t understand because they were an unknown element. It was her job to find information and she found herself lacking in this field. Still, it was her job right now to work alongside these members.

The Mandalorians were another strange element she had not predicted would be in play. In this area, as far as she was concerned, they were a fully rouge element no matter what they claimed. In fact, they were here to assist in their mission to find the Viceroy.

Yet their kin’s betrayal of the Confederacy and the attempted assassination of the Vicelord stung deep. She was well aware that these Mandalorians were not of the kind that had time after time scared the Galaxy with the blasphemous dark crusades of genocides and slavery, spreading their foul religion and culture all over, she still felt great unease simply to be in their presence.

As far she was concerned, you couldn’t trust a Mando further than you could throw them, a difficult task with their heavy armor.

But for now, they were on the same side so she would tolerate the fact they had to breathe the same air.

She turned away from staring at them, though ready at any moment to respond to any possible moves they might make, towards the meeting between the force-wielders. Listening intently to Knight Gerwald Lechner 's briefing, she plucked out the most important details and committed them to memory. It confirmed the sheer foolishness of the Viceroy for going on his own to investigate rumors in the middle of a dense forest without any support, particularly since those rumors suggested that hostile entities were prowling the forests. The latter part interested her highly. What in the name of The Lord were the Dark Ones? From their name alone and the nature of the Knights, she guessed that they might be some force-based threat or at least one misted in myth. She didn’t really care to the exact definition, she just needed to know how to kill them.

With the initial explanation of the situation done, Hark heard Vytal ask.

“My appraisal of the Knight’s orders?” She replied. “I would not separate into such small teams in the first place but we don’t have the luxury of time to dally about. The Viceroy’s been missing for some time already and every hour we waste, the chance for finding him intact lessens. Smaller teams will cover more ground and it will pose less danger than if we went in alone.”

Hark leaned in slightly and dropped her voice to a whisper so that the others couldn’t hear.

“My opinion of the situation itself, ma’am? It’s been far too long already, weeks already and in the wild, a hostile environment for anyone without training. We’re looking for nothing more than remains to give closure to the poor man’s family and to confirm the circumstances of his death so that a new leader can be elected to this world so everyone can move on.”

She paused. “Do forgive me, Witch, for my cynicism. Just don’t hold any real hope. The lesson that hope is the first step on the road to disappointment is something that I’ve unfortunately had to learn personally.”

Hark saw one of the Knights speak up, a woman in heavy tactical with grey straight hair that reached down to her shoulders, eyes as dead as a fish, and skin as pale as snow. You didn’t need to be the blindest fool in the Galaxy to know she wasn’t human.

“Knight, I think it would be best if we divided into, as you suggested, mix those that can use the… Force with fireteams in order to better augment their versatility. I know my Pathfinders the best so I would prefer if my three men remained in a single group though I am open to the inclusion of anyone with us.”

 

[Vanir Eris]

Vanir had not seen Gerwald since their initial first meeting and then later an aborted lesson in water manipulation. Despite this fact he was summoned and all because it was one of the Viceroy. Truth was, he didn’t really care for the others much, he wasn’t familiar with any of them and thus, no ties. His reason for being there were to support the man who was responsible for his being here. Even if that man and himself had had little to no interactions beyond the superficial since that meeting, nevermind the man had been agreeable to furthering his instruction of the Force.

Silent as a cat he slipped into the room, he saw one familiar face in that of Vytal Noctura. In fact, it seemed to him she was usually in the places he chose to go, a curious set of circumstances. He gave Gerwald, as much as he did to the Nightmother, a respectful bow. “I apologize for my tardiness Master Lechner, I hope you will forgive me.”

Respectful and polite to a fault, that was him. His bow graceful, tone appropriately so. Stars knew he didn’t know the man enough to be able to judge what lines of impudence he could get away with. They looked to be cut from a similar cloth. Nearly the same height, nearly the same weight, though Vanir was built slimmer and lithe compared to Gerwald’s more stocky form. He could easily have played the role of Gerwald’s brother. He stood and took in the other assembled faces, crystal blue eyes missing nothing.

His style of clothing was a bit old world, close to the body and protective armor, but suited him. The layers while protective would keep him both cool or warm, but if they needed he could also pass as an ‘authority’. Was he not a Viceroyal? Over his shoulder was a single pack, he carried a sword and even of all things a bow and quiver of arrows. Frankly he knew not what they may face and decided it best to err on the side of caution. What if what they faced was immune to the force? The bow, as yet unstrung, was suited for his physical strength and could pack quite a punch.

Others might bring more modern weapons, but while he himself was no great hand at say, a blaster rifle, he could be effective with his more dated weaponry. “I didn’t know what assemblage we might have, so I thought to play to my more dated training and hope that my strengths would be effective first so I would not need them. I heard you say something about getting ready, I at least have everything I’d need.”

The bag itself was designed so he could easily carry it as both man and beast. He hoped that his skills could shore up any deficiencies. Whatever was going on, he had dressed and geared so that he could hopefully fill whatever role they needed at the time. His clothing was mute enough that it would only take a couple things he carried to play a proper distinguished role yet as he was now, was simply plain enough to pass as a well off fighter. Well, that was his hope. Stewjon was much like his own clan, he always tried to dress in a way that helped him blend into the places he found himself.

Whether that would happen this time, he couldn’t be certain. He could fight easily and fluidly, furred or not and at the least he could play the role of healer and support. So only time could tell what his place would be in this group.

Gerwald Lechner Vytal Noctura

 

[Damien Van-Derveld]

wearing: xxx | w. Telula Vale
​

She was ready, or so she said. Damien had no idea how this one would handle herself among whatever it was they might face. Truth be told, Damien did not really know Lula at all. Other than having a pretty face and looking good in a bathing suit, the only other thing he knew was that they were both witches. His childhood made him cautious of her, simply because he knew what females often demanded of the men, but Damien did not seem to think Lula was that kind of witch. Regardless, Damien was cautious because he did not want to be used. His grandmother had ensured he would long remember that even family could be so cruel.

It was a quiet walk. Damien was a quiet wolf. Often he remained to his own thoughts. Perhaps the woman with him would think he was rude, or boring company, but Damien rarely had anything to say. The lupine had spent time as a wolf, preferring to live as an animal long before he would venture into the human world again. The time had come when he met his cousin, and now he had grown accustomed to being among civilization again. He would be the first to admit that there were certain comforts he quite thoroughly enjoyed.

"I hope I am not boring you," he asked as his hand wrapped around the door handle to the tavern where everyone was gathering. "I have always been poor at conversation every time we have had the chance to meet."

The wolf shrugged as he waited for an answer and for Lula to walk through the door. They arrived in time for Damien to settle his eyes on the rest of the crew and hear his cousin's former lover speak.

Eyes fell on the nightmother.

Good. They would have guidance at least. Vytal Noctura was more than capable of telling them where they would be needed. Damien was much more content following than he was leading, mostly because he was still learning the arts himself. A nightbrother he may be, but the magicks his aunt taught him were dangerous. Damien feared using something which was touched with so much darkness. Would it swallow him whole? A reassuring sigh left his lips, one which was louder than he thought.

He smiled.

"At least we have someone to tell us what to do."

Damien winked to the blonde witch. Soon they would be underway, and hopefully these dark ones would not be a problem.

"Stick with me hmmm, Lula? I'd like to be with someone I know at least..."

Anakwor Farlorn | Saram Kote | Redd | Vanir Eris | Kurenai Yumi | Meili Feng | Hisashi

 

[Meili Feng]

Location: Stewjon
Wearing: This
Tagging: Gerwald Lechner | Vytal Noctura | Redd | Anakwor Farlorn | Saram Kote | Kurenai Yumi | Hisashi | Damien Van-Derveld | Telula Vale

It was funny how some things looked so different depending on where you stood, the view in front of them that had proven to be so nostalgic to her had been less than pleasant to the Sith who accompanied her. You didn’t need to be an expert in body, in posture to recognise how terse and pre-occupied he was right now. Homecomings were supposed to be a joyful occasion, a chance to reconnect with your family and your friends, a chance to surround yourself in all the good memories associated with a place. The closest feeling she could think of it was of sinking into a hot bath, of feeling the warmth of it seeping through your skin and bones, relaxing muscle and soothing aches.

A homecoming was that for the soul, relaxing and soothing those mental aches that you might have. It was feeling her father’s arms wrapping around her the moment they were out of sight from the public, the feeling of safety and security. It was the smell of her mother’s cooking…that look exchanged with her father before they picked her up and banished her from the kitchen.

Not every memory of home was good, no-one lived that a charmed life. Everyone had their share of sadness and heartache, of sadness waiting for them, and stay home for long enough and the bad memories and the sadness would resurface, twisting their way between the positive like weeds rising up through the paving stones. But, that was supposed to come with time, not be your first reaction upon arriving home.

That wasn’t how Gerwald had reacted, with his first breath of the planet he had stiffened his mind far away and not in a good way. Mei couldn’t use the force to read his mind like some of the space wizards that she’d heard of, that she’d seen. She couldn’t use the force to peel back the layers of his mind, or to sample his emotions, but even if she hadn’t been raised in a society that made emotion obvious it was clear from the man’s stance that he was troubled, that he was caught in the grasp of those weeds, weaving through his mind like a tapestry, choking out all the good. If indeed there had been any in the first place.

The petite woman wanted to reach out a hand, to rest it on his shoulder and squeeze it. To offer him the reassurance that he wasn’t alone and that thigns weren’t as dark as it seemed. Only she couldn’t. She barely knew the man, and while her heart may go out to him and the horrors that he must have suffered to ruin the image of home in his head, it wasn’t her place. Propriety and every instinct that had been driven into her since childhood held her back, a spark of softness dancing across her dark eyes before it to was lost behind a cold mask that came so naturally to her now. He was in command and she would never compromise him like that.

A small breath in and out as she reached behind her to check her weapon before adjusting the loose jacket around her shoulders as she settled herself in a chair, nodding back at another woman who had greeted her. The warrior wrapped her arms around one of her legs, pressing her foot against the seat of her chair as the other hung down to brush the floor. Slowly more and more people had arrived, answering the man’s call, the CIS answering the call to arms.

Truthfully Mei couldn’t recognise many of those gathered, but she knew who they were as well as if she’d known them all her life. The truth was there in the way they stood, the small quirks. The way the Mandalorian had scanned the faces of the group as she entered the room, the way they stood, aware of where their weapons were as if expecting violence, the way the entire group would check their surroundings almost unknowingly, reactions honed through experience, through combat. Warriors all who had gathered. Mei’s dark eyes flicked towards the door for a moment as an amused light danced across her eyes for a moment, lips quirking up slightly as she rested her chin on her knee, turning her attention to their leader as he began to speak.

The woman didn’t know who or what these Dar Ones were, but if they were truly as dangerous as they were made out to be, capable of devastating an entire planet then perhaps it would be better to deal with them here and now. Better to wipe them from the face of the planet.

The woman let her gaze sweep to the door, tensing for a moment as a newcomer arrived, only relaxing when he spoke to Gerwald. Now wasn’t the time to fight it seemed, but it would be soon, until then...her gaze settled on the pale woman who had spoken of fireteams.

“A good question. Do we plan to split up, cover more ground or head straight for the temple?”

Either way, for now at least her’s was not to reason why, but to…be pointed in a direction and cut down whatever these Dark Ones were. In the end, it didn’t matter how dangerous they could be, a spear blade in the heart generally ended most threats.

 

[Gianna Aegis]

Location: Stewjon [Tavern]
Equipment: Soteria Robes, Heaven's Wish, Heart of Aceso, Heaven's Embrace
Tag: Gerwald Lechner | Vytal Noctura | Anakwor Farlorn | Saram Kote | Kurenai Yumi | Hisashi | Damien Van-Derveld | Telula Vale | Vanir Eris
Standing Near: John Locke | Redd

​

The flame-haired Jedi stepped down from one of the shuttles that the Helios boasted with a slight sigh whilst glancing at her comm. They were running a little late. The call that had passed through a variety of CIS channels from one @Gerawld Lechner had not gone unnoticed. Nor would it be ignored. Gianna felt the air beside her shift and a flash of black caught her attention from the corner of her eye. Brilliant emerald orbs floated up toward the man that she…Didn’t quite know what to call. Friend?

He was so close. So near. But still, so far away.

Ever since the Jedi Knight had pulled down the mental blocks that she had placed in the mind of John Locke things had changed. He had stayed with her on Atrisia. They’d worked together on numerous occasions. But, it wasn’t the same. There were no fond embraces. No long talks afterward. He made very few visits to Sprite Gate Shore despite the fact that Confederacy had relocated its capital.

She knew why. Gianna, would never forgive herself. The consequences were her own to bear.

“I hope we’re not too late. It sounded from the little bit we got…Pretty dangerous.”

Her words fell to the grassy field they had landed in. Despite it all, they still traveled together when the situation demanded it. She still wore his creations. His armor. It was as close as they could ever be. The coordinates sent them to a small village that seemed like they’d scarcely seen an auto-chef before, let alone, the shining shuttle that John had created. As they approached, she could see people glancing out the windows at them. Outsiders. Gianna didn’t know much about Stewjon as a whole, however, the Jedi knew the history of the Dark Ones. At least what the folklore searches had managed to dredge up.

They moved forward with an easy, simple, and smooth gait. It offered up the many times they had walked together. He kept her pace. She followed the Force to get to the tavern as opposed to actually using the map. To be truthful, there were way, way too many Sith in the CIS not to feel them when they gathered. It left a beacon that sent chills unbidden down her spine.

“This way… Just a few buildings down.”

The tavern door opened with a little jingle. She ducked under John’s arm while he held the door and jade eyes searched for a familiar face. Gerwald was one of the few she knew by name. Others, by reputation. They came in while Gerwald seemed to be filling the group in and the young woman waited in silence. He suggested groups of two or three? “Hello everone…We could likely use a third if anyone else is free—Based on our skillsets.”, Gianna peeped up when everything was said and done. She didn’t know if anyone else was coming, but, it couldn’t hurt to try.

She could fight if need be and John was no slouch…But she typically played the role of the medic. The negotiator. Her connection to the Force was as white as it got. She hoped that Viceroy Dorian was still alive. There seemed to be varying degrees of cynicism floating throughout the group. Gia felt her eyes drawn toward a rather gorgeous wolf that lingered near the main group. It—She felt different. Intelligent beyond that of a typical canine. Her eyebrows rose in curiosity. Was she a werewolf like Gerwald?

The red-haired Jedi wandered a little closer, though, never straying far from John.

“Hi…I’m Gia—It’s nice to meet you. You are definitely the prettiest wolf I’ve ever seen. We’re going to give these spooks at the temple a what for aren’t we?”, she questioned with a small, heartfelt smile. She could feel a longing lingering in her aura and natural empathy allowed the Knight to realize that the four-legged party-member was missing someone, or something. Gianna was a Jedi in which one could hardly stand to be sad around. Her smile lit the room as if it were sunrise; her hope was infectious.

She didn’t know if speech translated to a werewolf the same way it might have if they were speaking face to face, however, Gia hoped that her body language conveyed kind things regardless. Gianna wanted not only to bolster anyone in the group, but, anyone within the tavern that was feeling low. Her duty involved bringing joy. In giving others a sense of being loved and complete within themselves simply on their own merits. It was an act of bringing out the best in them on the darkest of days.

Tricky with Sith—But Gianna managed just fine.

When her eyes lifted from the wolf her gaze fell on Vanir Eris . He looked familiar. She couldn't be sure as to why but there was something about his stance that triggered a memory. Curious.

“When everyone else is ready we’re good to go. We brought all we need.”

 

[Telula Vale]

Tags: | Damien Van-Derveld | Vytal Noctura | Anakwor Farlorn | Saram Kote | Redd | Vanir Eris | Kurenai Yumi | Meili Feng | Hisashi | Gianna Aegis | John Locke |

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A quiet walk through the area didn't seem to bother Telula all that much. While some part of her of course wondered if perhaps she had done something to offend in some way - she always thought that way, about anyone - she had come to realize that Damien was simply quiet more than he was chatty, and honestly that did not bother the blonde witchling. If he had something to say, she was sure he would say it, and that was that. Besides, the quiet let her reach out, to try and get a feel for the creatures and such living in the area...and what she found - or perhaps what she did not find, made her frown thoughtfully as the pair and her Galek hound made their way.

And then, the silence was broken. The sound of her companion's voice drew her focus, and his words made her smile despite the situation around them. "I don't find you boring at all," she assured him, voice just as soft and clear as it always was. "Though it's true enough, something seems to always come up any time we've run into each other." Granted, this current trek they were on was different. It wasn't some social gathering they had bumped into each other at. "And while these circumstances aren't ideal, maybe we'll get more than snippets of conversation in." Lula had agreed to this because help was needed, and because Damien was one of the few people she felt normal around.

The other she caught sight of once the door was opened. Her gaze found the Nightmother first of anyone else in the room, and any tension in her lithe frame deflated - for now. Even Kai let out a whine and his tail thumped once or twice before Lula shushed him softly and stepped out of the doorway so that she, Damien, and the hound could all three get out of the way. Seems they had found themselves arriving just in time, though the details of this mission made the witchling frown. No wonder she hadn't felt any creatures full of life outside, how very devastating for everything and everyone trying to live around here.

Again her gaze drift to Damien when he spoke to hear, and she nodded in agreement to him. "Having the Nightmother here will definitely be a huge and welcomed help." Not just to the people and the situation, but to Telula and her confidence too. She definitely looked up to Vytal, and took her advice and teachings to heart. But for the moment, they had been instructed to make groups. Lula's hand reached out to rest against Kai's head both to comfort herself and to soothe the beast, but she nodded to Damien regardless. "You're certainly stuck with me," she told him. "And I promise to pull my weight to the best of my abilities. Though now the question is, do we stick to the two of us, or see if someone else desires to come along?" She was good either way.