Kiskla Grayson-Matteo
Redeemer
@[member="Cade Lee"]
Nar Shaddaa
14:00PM
The protectorate was still overlooking Kiffex and Kiffar as a whole, but they were but a savage blip on their radar.
For a while, Kiskla had been working closely with ex Jedi Grandmaster, and formidable warrior @[member="Darron Wraith"]. For the most part, things had seemed tickity boo – with the slight, impending tension of attraction; but in hindsight, attraction was inevitable when two qualified individuals, both relatively emotionally compromised forced themselves into close quarters to fight evil. Or, when anybody worked alongside the blonde bombshell.
If she had a perfume line, it would be coined Irresistible.
But, duty had called on either end. And despite OP’s involvement with her planet, there was a Sheyf installment for a reason, not just tradition.
For some reason, her mind drifted back to the months that had passed, and Kiskla found her lips twisted as she mused over her appreciation of the efforts of the former Jedi Grandmaster. Master Wraith had charismatically involved her with the on goings of The Order, and overlooked her dark taint. But Force demons were something that simply couldn’t be eternally disregarded. That dark side of her had murdered her prior master, without her consent of course, and every so often it reared it’s hideous head.
And the truly sick part?
She didn’t want to conquer it.
Kiskla was inherently good. That was undeniable. She had the power to protect, and she used it – but to completely dissolve her connection with the dark entity that coursed through her veins? She had a feeling that would take a turn for a worse, rather than the perceived benefit. And the taste of the power he had whet her appetite every time, despite her being an impressive Master of the Force on her own accord.
Either way, by both nature and demand Kiskla had strayed from the Republic’s influence and was astutely representing The Guardians once again, looking for ways to expand and innovate the traditionally ‘savage’ warriors. For the most part, they were inactive in the galaxy’s battles and she was growing weary of the idleness that her father was influencing. For so long, he had been biting every bullet that came at him, and made his living off bounty; danger had been his middle name. Once responsibility that he couldn’t run from was piled into his lap, he buckled in and maintained a stationary role. And, by extension, cemented his forces as well.
Maybe that was the reason she had delved into the opportunities of under the counter. Because here she was; the armpit of the galaxy. A cesspit. Hell hole. God(s) forsaken. All very appropriate labels for one of the head offices of BlasTech industries. The Smugglers Moon, Vertical City, and Little Coruscant were some of the many pleasant titles this place had earned. Whatever one wanted to call it, anyone, from refugee to wayward traveler, agreed that no one really wanted to live here. However, it certainly had it’s….perks. Those perks, she surmised, were the sole reason for a company to have erected a pinnacle of business on planet. Usually, she wouldn’t have delved so deep into a curious affiliate, but she had perused through S’het Freya’s confidential records of his bounty hunting days, and found a strong connection of his that linked back to BlasTech. Through her expertise and skilled tongue, she had managed to leverage this link to her advantage, and was on the premise under nearly false pretenses. Her affiliation with the royal blood was under wraps; consider it a tour of the factory to see if the production line was up to par, and was able to produce both the quantity and quality of personal weapons she was interested in.
Besides, even if her heritage were known, she doubted that’d peak any exceptional interest. Being a publicly held company, with stocks trading on the market hourly, investors were a dime a dozen; which had also sparked her curiosity to the production again. And there’s no way to know unless you check it yourself. Or maybe that’s doing a job right… either way, Kiskla was a go-getter and didn’t agree with delegating tasks that she could easily accomplish. And this was easy enough. In fact, pulling up to the establishment and following the orders to park was a bit of a throwback Thursday considering it’s size in relation to Omega Pyre’s and her exceptionally brief visit to their headquarters with Darron. It's spires rivalled the rest of the city's pinnacles with great success, and the highest of the building's peaks pierced the overcast of the city's smog. The grounds were peppered with activity, the type that hardly mirrored the activities in the dingy streets. The young princess smirked to herself with a brief shake at her head at the typicality of the situation. Of course the single connection she’d been able to dig out was from the stingiest part of the galaxy—her father had done nothing but black market and underground deals for far too long. Perhaps that’s why he was so strict with his warriors these days – he, unlike his daughter, was unable to find his grey area. Balance.
One foot after the other, the soles of her boots clicked against the material of the stairs as the entrance swallowed her up into the foyer where a typical-looking secretary was clicking away behind the desk. Well, as typical as alien species were.
“Do you have an appointment?” The woman asked, jarring the silence quickly. Kiskla didn’t mind, she was a rather abrasive conversationalist herself.
“Grayson.” That was the perk of using her name. It was still relatively unknown—and she had never adopted her father’s last name. The whole mysterious, enigmatic persona of his had escaped her and her mother.
The Twi'lek crossed her legs in the opposite direction and nodded curtly, her green lekku moving ever so slightly with the noggin dip. "The production manager will be with you in a few minutes. I'll let him know you're here."
Nar Shaddaa
14:00PM
The protectorate was still overlooking Kiffex and Kiffar as a whole, but they were but a savage blip on their radar.
For a while, Kiskla had been working closely with ex Jedi Grandmaster, and formidable warrior @[member="Darron Wraith"]. For the most part, things had seemed tickity boo – with the slight, impending tension of attraction; but in hindsight, attraction was inevitable when two qualified individuals, both relatively emotionally compromised forced themselves into close quarters to fight evil. Or, when anybody worked alongside the blonde bombshell.
If she had a perfume line, it would be coined Irresistible.
But, duty had called on either end. And despite OP’s involvement with her planet, there was a Sheyf installment for a reason, not just tradition.
For some reason, her mind drifted back to the months that had passed, and Kiskla found her lips twisted as she mused over her appreciation of the efforts of the former Jedi Grandmaster. Master Wraith had charismatically involved her with the on goings of The Order, and overlooked her dark taint. But Force demons were something that simply couldn’t be eternally disregarded. That dark side of her had murdered her prior master, without her consent of course, and every so often it reared it’s hideous head.
And the truly sick part?
She didn’t want to conquer it.
Kiskla was inherently good. That was undeniable. She had the power to protect, and she used it – but to completely dissolve her connection with the dark entity that coursed through her veins? She had a feeling that would take a turn for a worse, rather than the perceived benefit. And the taste of the power he had whet her appetite every time, despite her being an impressive Master of the Force on her own accord.
Either way, by both nature and demand Kiskla had strayed from the Republic’s influence and was astutely representing The Guardians once again, looking for ways to expand and innovate the traditionally ‘savage’ warriors. For the most part, they were inactive in the galaxy’s battles and she was growing weary of the idleness that her father was influencing. For so long, he had been biting every bullet that came at him, and made his living off bounty; danger had been his middle name. Once responsibility that he couldn’t run from was piled into his lap, he buckled in and maintained a stationary role. And, by extension, cemented his forces as well.
Maybe that was the reason she had delved into the opportunities of under the counter. Because here she was; the armpit of the galaxy. A cesspit. Hell hole. God(s) forsaken. All very appropriate labels for one of the head offices of BlasTech industries. The Smugglers Moon, Vertical City, and Little Coruscant were some of the many pleasant titles this place had earned. Whatever one wanted to call it, anyone, from refugee to wayward traveler, agreed that no one really wanted to live here. However, it certainly had it’s….perks. Those perks, she surmised, were the sole reason for a company to have erected a pinnacle of business on planet. Usually, she wouldn’t have delved so deep into a curious affiliate, but she had perused through S’het Freya’s confidential records of his bounty hunting days, and found a strong connection of his that linked back to BlasTech. Through her expertise and skilled tongue, she had managed to leverage this link to her advantage, and was on the premise under nearly false pretenses. Her affiliation with the royal blood was under wraps; consider it a tour of the factory to see if the production line was up to par, and was able to produce both the quantity and quality of personal weapons she was interested in.
Besides, even if her heritage were known, she doubted that’d peak any exceptional interest. Being a publicly held company, with stocks trading on the market hourly, investors were a dime a dozen; which had also sparked her curiosity to the production again. And there’s no way to know unless you check it yourself. Or maybe that’s doing a job right… either way, Kiskla was a go-getter and didn’t agree with delegating tasks that she could easily accomplish. And this was easy enough. In fact, pulling up to the establishment and following the orders to park was a bit of a throwback Thursday considering it’s size in relation to Omega Pyre’s and her exceptionally brief visit to their headquarters with Darron. It's spires rivalled the rest of the city's pinnacles with great success, and the highest of the building's peaks pierced the overcast of the city's smog. The grounds were peppered with activity, the type that hardly mirrored the activities in the dingy streets. The young princess smirked to herself with a brief shake at her head at the typicality of the situation. Of course the single connection she’d been able to dig out was from the stingiest part of the galaxy—her father had done nothing but black market and underground deals for far too long. Perhaps that’s why he was so strict with his warriors these days – he, unlike his daughter, was unable to find his grey area. Balance.
One foot after the other, the soles of her boots clicked against the material of the stairs as the entrance swallowed her up into the foyer where a typical-looking secretary was clicking away behind the desk. Well, as typical as alien species were.
“Do you have an appointment?” The woman asked, jarring the silence quickly. Kiskla didn’t mind, she was a rather abrasive conversationalist herself.
“Grayson.” That was the perk of using her name. It was still relatively unknown—and she had never adopted her father’s last name. The whole mysterious, enigmatic persona of his had escaped her and her mother.
The Twi'lek crossed her legs in the opposite direction and nodded curtly, her green lekku moving ever so slightly with the noggin dip. "The production manager will be with you in a few minutes. I'll let him know you're here."