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What comes never dies. What is found can be lost. (Read Spoiler - Limited Open)

Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Character
The Rising Arc
After Niaana, Open to One other person. Knight Rank, NFU or Paddi Rank, but I will move it on every few days regardless - PM me for further details

Coruscant System
Coruscant
Gregaors Bar

Among the many grey spires, and the twisting towers of the grand cityscape, Gregaors Bar was one tiny insignificant dot on otherwise massive fields of grey, fields of nothing but urban landscape and the hum of anything but natural beauty. Instead urbanized brilliance played against a song of the human condition. A passing condition Fyor Nayus took in his stride, because he loved it, living within them. Fyor loved these places off the beaten track, all to himself, watching the passing of the speeders out ahead, the massed populations that had nothing to do but putter about, following easily predictable outcomes.

Dressed as usual in the full robes of the order, cream with a brown stripe down the center. It was a code he kept like a bond unbreakable, it had been hard to see the other three crew of the statement leave for the war against the Sith, but he had stayed at his task, and his work. For him, his work with the temple healers had been so much more important, that and the minor services he had given the Jedi here and there where he could.

Work at the temple had finally, finally paid off, he had a cure, not just to the virus in him, but also the crystal condition, just waiting on Kei to arrive. Fyor had no heroic illusions of trusting just one man, or any such frivolous notion, but their time together suggested Kei should be the first to know of the cure to his condition, if only because he'd be the best equipped to contact all four of the crew to hear the news.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Character
Levels above, levels which might as well have meant branches upon a thousand year old tree, one which kept growing and growing upward like Kashyyyk. Only there were no sounds of wildlife here save the transports buzzing around, the incessant natter of large metal flies.

Absence... like a hollow herd, nothing was there except the steps. Niaana followed, just like her Master had taught her, never present in her life but always with her. Raien had left a legacy of training, recreating the body till stone, as he always sort. The living remade until they were her Master's bedrock. Niaana was not stone, yet, but she sort solace inside the mountain, whether that be a burning building, the many dead targets, a legacy of the Keth name, or just simply blind determination to never accept defeat. In all ways it was the same, something she'd never climb or penetrate, only at best fall in behind.

The absence of life, that is what listened, and watched. She ate of those moments when time passed to her, devoured for her ancestors will, a will listening to Fyor through her device, till listening was no longer necessary. Listening from far above the bar, her fingers gripped tightly upon a blade, bringing it to her cheek, to feel the texture of the killing blow to come.


Fyor had found the cure? His crystal would be fulfilled of purpose, it was time to return it home. The first of four.
 
Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Character
The second drink was always the ice breaker, the first was to let them know you were here to pay, by the second round they were all talking like you were their best friend. Sadly non of it was of any interest, even to the way Lorrdian read crowds, but it made him feel at home. Except the months with the healers, which had given him Jedi insight in how they kept and fed their members, Fyor had no training, he was still without a weapon, intentionally refusing to carry one.

Why should all Jedi carry a weapon? The code said nothing of it, and Fyor followed the code, to the letter, hence why he'd stayed when the rest of the crew went off to fight the Sith. However Fyor had his defences, usually involving the beeping droid by his side. This one was named Niper-rot, reassembled from the dead droid at Coruscant, when he'd first joined the Jedi, a day he'd not soon forget, or that sniper which had taken his friend's life away. He'd been sure to analyse at least a thousand possible leads personally, following the reports of so may investigators, sadly enough nothing had come of it, the droid had still been murdered without finding his killer.

Fyor called Kei again, knowing his ship was enroute, it had been a sufficiently long time for Fyor to have become unfamiliar with the statement. In human terms, he missed attending to its engines and power supply, in Fyor's terms he needed a drink, the news was, exilerating.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Character
Dropped, falling, the device was discarded, technology thrown to greet ground far below. Black skies, rain, clouds that watered concrete in the small hope something might still bloom, but nothing would here, this was a dead garden, her garden. The celebrations below would turn to screams so she might feel one small beat of her heart, just one piece of emotion, swaying down the edge of the building, winding her way over ledge and drop. Niaana prowled, a snake in the grass, a whitesnake, biting its way down the sides of the building, to hiss her call softly at its intended victim.

Falling to a level, dipping her legs to brace the impact, Niaana wound her way, snake-like steps through the crowds, black as black might be. Jet black, soaking up the rain and the eyes of those who saw her pass, straight into the bar door, she drank of their emotion, even the slightest fear or notice of her approach gave her reason for one more step. The fickle horrid cheer coming from this place filled her with loathing and malice, dripping off her lips, formed into a black smile.

Razor eyes slit through the dim lighting, her target ahead, this was going to be so simple. Nobody could stop this could they? There was only the mission.
 
Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Character
Measured sips, carefully measured to be exactly how much he wanted to take, mechanical almost. Looking up from his glass, Fyor's black bearded face, looked the arrival over, swirling his drink in his free hand. Niper-rot hummed to life, its red shell chasis hardened for such eventualities, it'd take more than a rifle to put this battledroid down. It bleeped at the new entrance, speaking for Fyor, its beep said it all. Moving between the padawan and anyone present, while Fyor remained at the bar, hand sliding inside his pocket, most of the bar didn't notice, getting on with their conversations or arguments.

This was just one more arrival to them, but not to Fyor.

He'd seen crystal hunters before, had them on his tail since before he first came to Coruscant, some months previous. The look Niaana gave him was just one more of the same, a vindictive bunch, especially as he had not control over what was put in his chest, he was just carrying the crystal. Hands wrapping around the stun grenade in his pocket, the man continued to enjoy the drink. The Jedi was ready to bolt at the first opportunity if he had to. Months of medical research had only given him a talent for healing, not fighting.

"Not seen you before" a bartender called over to Niaana, "what can I get you."

That was what Fyor was waiting on, the point where he could deduce whether she was friend or foe. Whether his instincts were right, or wrong. The air felt colder at Niaana's arrival, a bit of a chill up his spine, but the mind had a way of playing tricks on you when you were on the run.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Character
The smile born on the assassins lips continued to mature, blossoming a flower on the concrete after all. Its scent a sombre reminder of once a young girl who had her playthings carved from toys, toys like a target she now wanted to play with. Her upbringing had been, intensive, you would of have to lived through @[member="Raien Keth"]'s legacy to understand the depths he dragged your soul into, till there was nothing left but the purpose that served his needs. Even locked away as he was, the memories of her childhood screams would be visited in his name, upon this one.

A red droid came across her path, a battledroid, in a bar. How quaint. Niaana swayed her head toward the barkeep, twisting it around to meet his question, the hands disarming the droid's weapon with a twist. Hitting it on the back of the rifle, so it aimed upwards, and shot itself straight through the head, a vulnerable spot even with the armor, commanded by just the subtle press of her other hand.

The bar went silent, all eyes turned on her. The slumping wreck at her feet, another reminder of her task completed, she stepped over it.

Niaana just extended a hand toward @[member="Fyor Nayus"], the other sliding a knife from her waist, and resting it against her black lips, a kiss upon the still edges that would soon be eating the air as it moved. "You know what we want," there was a primal energy in Niaana, a bestial quality to it and it caused the subtlest rasps of the Echani's tongue.

Obviously with permission from myself for the droid :)
 
Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Character
A soon as the blaster sound hit his ears, a Visor extended upward to cover the eyes. The stun grenade released from his hand before anyone else could even react, hurled in front of himself, the flash sent several people sprawling to the floor, and Fyor making a break for the front door. Upending tables as he went to buy himself some time and block her reach to him.

The Padawan wasn't in the mood to fight an assassin, at all in fact, and as a Jedi he knew she'd follow him, so to spare anyone else in there prospect of being struck down by her he was leaving, but where was he running to? He had no ship now, no weapons, little training, and a smoking heap of a droid.

As he passed the assassin at run, he looked at the droid. A droid who wasn't killed in one shot either, that armor had been modified well, its hand latched onto the Echani's ankle and squeezed tight, trying to shatter it and disable her. Multiple processing cores were dotted about, and none of them had been placed in the head, Fyor was a clever engineer, not some hydro spanner wielding brute, taking out his droid friend was going to be trouble and a half.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Character
A blinding stun grenade, she was only saved by using a man as a shield, who sunk down in front of her. That didn't spare her the droid at her feet, a banshee's scream came out as the droid pincered itself down on her ankle, the Echani brought the tip of one whirling vibro knife straight through its hand, severing it but not sparing her the pain of being gripped there in the first place. The Sith Witch wrasped again in an exhale as another dagger was sent free, aimed right at the back of Fyor's leg in return, like for like, it'd be fitting to watch him limp as well.

Delicious. He'd made her feel pain, she could use pain, she could use his contempt for her, it filled her with malice for this one, trickling down her lips in a steady stream of delight, hearing her heart pounding all the harder she reveled in the given emotion. Untrained and unfocused were her force abilities, but the connection had been made finally, like untempered steel. The Echani followed after him, quickly, despite the droid's hand stuck around her ankle like a vice. She watched him, hunting, she would enjoy this, but not too much, because she just had one reason for being here, and one reason only. The crystal, for her Master.

Time to play.
 
Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Character
With a sickening thud the vibro knife cut deep into his thigh, sending him falling to the floor, impaled, he looked up at the assassin, scanning the area with his visor, and sent a signal to the droid to proceed to use lethal force. Jedi were Jedi but, he wasn't dying here today, not for these crystal hunters anyway. Pulling himself up a table and trying to stand, the assassin would be on him in seconds.

Although the droid was badly damaged, it raised up behind Niaana, running with her, to grab her with the good arm. Trying to punch her straight in the back of the neck with the chopped limb. Not badly programmed at all, one more killzone on the body to target. It was his only option, he wasn't getting away with this in his thigh in the shape it was in, the wound looked bad, really bad.

Someone in the bar had managed to get signal off to local security, it'd not be too long till someone arrived, but how was he going to stay alive till then? Throwing a glass straight at the woman, Fyor kept limping away. "I don't suppose anyone would happen to have a very large gun!" He called out, ahh that got their attention, one of the bar patrons who wasn't unconscious, not exactly liking having grenades thrown about, took aim and fired at the assassin.

...

and also Fyor for that matter.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Character
Echani could read combat in front of them, but not some droid she thought she'd already ended, running up behind her. Another firm hand on her gave Niaana another jolt of pain on her shoulder, twisting to avoid it, she ducked low, jabbing a vibrating knife deep into the droid's center. Relishing the cutting of its many hungry teeth, her eyes widened and she cackled happily as it fizzed and started to smoke.

Loving this, free, in the bonds of servitude. Young Sith at play, these little memories she'd be fond of taking with her, to keep her warm at night. Play but also work, she was lucky that way.

The shots cut toward her, and she shoved the droid forward, right into the path of the blaster fire and into the shooter. Another knife sent hissing through the air, cutting and whirling its away in a circular arc and then inward. Aimed again at Fyor, how she relished these little moments before the kill. Not his chest that was too precious. It made the target harder, but more satisfying if it greeted bone. Going for his other good leg, controlled through the force to sink it deep....

Niaana was on his tail again, yet one more knife in her hand, loving every minute, she drew it across her lips before starting it whirring away expectantly in her hand.
 
Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Character
Two shots hit home on his arm, and he lost his grip on the table, stumbling to the floor and rolling in pain. The droid collided with the shooter and exploded from all the hits it had received, taking both of them out and starting a fire in the bar. People started to panic as smoke began to rise against the dim lighting, obscuring the view of what was going on. Security outside was closing in their speeders, but had not reached this isolated bar yet, the perfect spot for an ambush, and if not stopped, an assassin's kill, worse one piece of the crystal returned home.

Fyor was not unprepared for the cutting of the blade in the air this time, despite its misleading circular arc, he tracked it in the visor, seeing its vector, and threw a metal serving tray in front of it to deflect it with a thud. The Jedi was running out of options if nobody came to help soon, it'd be too late. Trying to calculate the odds of him getting out of this alive now, seemed pretty slim, but he was a betting man.

Calculating the odds, that was how he handled it. He looked at the ceiling, and any weak points in the structure. "Like your knives my silver haired friend? Let's see if you know how to duck." He chuckled desperately, pulling himself away and picking up a displaced table leg in his good arm, ready to give a swing, but not at the assassin. The table leg was thrown right at the side of the wall the droid's explosion had come from, the visor tracking the one fractured weaknesses in the supports. One thing he'd learned from Kei is, go for the walls, it crashed into the already fragile beam. He even got some force energy behind it, which was an uncomfortable first for him, but necessary.

It looked like nothing would happen, it was only a table leg right?

Then a creak.... part of the roof started to come down on the assassin, he just hoped it was enough. That visor didn't lie, when the engineer found a structural weakness, he really found it.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Character
Silence as the roof fell in, the audacity of using a table leg, sturdy as it may be, to attack the structure had surprised the Echani crystal sister. Watching a few metal plates fall free, she danced around them, dust coming down with them to add to the smoke filled room. People coughing, bodies starting to slip from this world, through it she came, her approach unhindered by the falling debris. The dust barely even showed on her dry hair, just blending together with the fallen things of this place, one and the same at home to her.

The lives slipping away, the fear, the pain she fed off it, Niaana loved it, it was ambrosia. Having no emotion of her own, it caused a whimper of delight to break from her black lips, tongue dragging its way over the steel of the blade, the one that would probably end this pathetic Jedi's life. He mocked her use of knives, hmmmm "I have.... bigger knives." With a ringing out, her vibrosword was unsheathed, and plunged straight into towards the downed man's good arm. Its teeth were not cutting, she didn't want him dead too quick. It was important his crystal recorded these last memories, memories for when she had no more use for him.
 
Nuts and Bolts (Dead, PM Writers Account)
Character
An involuntary howl as the weapon hit home, could anything stop her? Not today it seemed, the one day when he'd not been smart enough to pick a bar with a backdoor, Kei always said drinking would kill him, him and his herbal tea. Fyor read through the visor the impact, his nerve endings on fire, he was pinned by the sword unable to move even if he had wanted to. In danger of passing out with no control for the level of pain he was receiving, bleeding out, that or worse. "Not the most friendly kind of girl are you." Fyor coughed, "how about this, we'll call it even, you can..." he gurgled a bit, stammering, "walk out of here with no interference from me."

The pain was unbearable, but he kept a level head, barely watching her above him, "I've got you right where I want you." Fyor tried to keep it together, feeling like a pincushion right about now, three of his limbs going numb, he didn't know how much longer he'd have, not long now. With his free, shot arm, he moved somehow to take a spice stick and put it in his lips. "Got a light?" He couldn't feel anything, not a thing, just looking up at this Echani schutta like he'd want to spend his last moments on this earth. "You're not into Lorrdians are you? Because the rumors are true, all of them," Fyor babbled, knowing the moment was close now, might as well go out with a few insults and a smoke between his teeth.
 

Niaana Ren

Mission, the 1st Sister. (Dead, Pm Writers Account
Character
Niaana swallowed the moment whole, the screams, the burning, the smell of the scene, she never wanted it to end. Carrying it as a child inside her belly, to be born again and again when she meditated. These were her childhood screams from Raien's chambers of torture, the education she had received over and over until she understood that it was normal, that this was a gift to Coruscant, for all of them to share. One small bar she could call her own, after today, it would be.

Biting a knife down in between her teeth, she smiled to Fyor, helpless underneath her. Slicing against the ground with her knife it kicked up a spark, she rolled his head over to it, and rotated the knife around to catch a spark, the weapon lighting the spice stick.

Bending over him, leaning her dress down, she spun the weapon around again going for his neck...

...

and paused.

...

Not yet, She wanted Fyor to feel everything as the crystal was removed from his chest and no joking could ever save him from how many times he screamed in pain that night, until finally the screams stopped, and she held his crystal in her hand. Such a small thing, but so hers, she put it away inside her dress, a crystal heart she'd keep close to her own. Heading out before the authorities arrived, or the Jedi, both too slow to catch her, and too slow to watch him die.

One down, three to go Master. Fin
 
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