Session export: Sundari Station II

“Andrestia, you are clear for landing. Welcome back sir.” Tranok stated in his normally stoic manner.

“Good to be back.” The Consul replied. He engaged the engines and prepared his Stinger XL for landing in his private landing bay. Fresh off a contract for the newly rebuilt Envoy Corps he could use a drink, and some repairs to his armor. While some some Mandalorians wore their cosmetic damages as a badge of honor Korvis preferred to keep his looking good. It wasn’t out of any pride he just felt that well maintained armor was less likely to fail.

The Andrestia swung into the landing bay with the precision of someone who had landed here 1000 times. Truth is Korvis could probably do it in his sleep. This was his home away from home and for a time was actually the base of operations for the clan. Walking down the ramp Korvis could see Tranok standing a few feet away. No matter how many times he told him not to, Trandoshan insisted on escorting him to the turbo lifts.

“Anything exciting happen while I was away?”

“Nothing major, though we have found several bodies onboard. They have all been killed quite cleanly and efficiently. Each was later found to be tied to either The Collective or the followers of Mortis.”

“People being killed on the station is nothing major?”

“Well given their ties we figured Shooter had a hand in it. So we haven’t pressed the matter.”

“I need to find Shooter it seems, is he onboard?”

“The Mortuary, sir.”

Ellac and Kandria stood behind the pilots of the Lambda-class shuttle as it made its approach to Sundari Station.

“Station control, this is Imperial unit ST-121, requesting permission to land.”

Ellac watched from the viewport as they drew closer Sundari Station, awaiting clearance confirmation.

“It’s not like you to respond to a social call,” Kandria chided beside him, a small smirk sneaking onto her mouth.

“As much as I hate politics, we need to maintain our relations with the other clans,” Ellac sighed, crossing his arms. “The Empire isn’t as strong as we were before the the Battle of Endor, meanwhile the other clans have only become more powerful, which means we have to play nice… For now.”

Kandria’s smirk spread into a full-blown smile. “Time to grab a couple drinks and make some friends, then?”

Ellac frowned slightly, side-eyeing his companion. “You can keep the drinks…”

“Imperial shuttle, you are clear to land. Proceed to Hangar Besh.” A voice called back over the ship’s comm, drawing their attention back to Sundari Station.

The shuttle’s captain reached toward the center of the console, depressing one of the buttons to respond. “Acknowledged, Station Control. Proceeding to Hangar Besh.”

The shuttle gently pulled into the station, the hydraulics hissed as the landing gear absorbed her weight. The ramp slowly dropped to the hangar floor, Ellac’s boots knocking against the metal as he disembarked with Kandria in tow.

A protocol droid shuffled over to meet them, extending a small wave as it greeted its new guests. “Ellac Conrat, allow me to welcome you and your companion on behalf of Clan Vizsla. We’ve been expecting your arrival,” the droid said in it’s purposely pleasant voice. “You must be eager to proceed. Please, follow me.”

Alexandyr stepped from his shuttle into Sundari Station and took a deep breath of the recycled station air. A metallic taste met his lips, either from carbon dioxide scrubbers or simply the mass of metal comprising the station. Sundari was like every other station he had visited through the years, cold, cramped, even with the temperature regulation from the aircon system. As he made his way further into the station his eyes darted around the station, taking in the facades of the establishments within, bars, armaments, and a casino. Typical Resort Station amenities, through and through.

With a chuckle he pulled his hood back and headed for the less garish of the bars, a dive called The Mortuary a Grim Prospect, but in Vizsla space what could one expect?

“As good a place as any to get a drink, I’d wager. Far more approachable, at least than…” He shuddered thinking of the rich-blooded bar some of his colleagues would have likely doubled down for.

Thoughts of his itinerary crossed his mind, plans for a trip down to the surface of Zsoldos in the coming days. This had, after all, just been a layover as the ship he had originally departed stopped to refuel. Deciding to spend a day gambling and getting to know the locals of the system before he dropped planetside seemed a good measure, so long as he didn’t make enemies. He checked his saber at his hip, tilted low, and diagonally, so as to seem less threatening to any who may cross paths with him. After all, he was the sojourner, not the warrior.

A smile played on his lips as he came to the entrance of The Mortuary and greeted the bouncers. A pair of Gamorreans with expressions about a soft as stone. Alex shook his head as he was welcomed into The Mortuary and he had a gut feeling that it was as much of a threat as an invitation to enjoy himself. He simultaneously enjoyed and loathed the prospect, but little else seemed at the surface of his mind as he crossed the threshold and made his way to the bar.

“Corellian Whiskey, please.” He asked as he toyed with his datapad, going over rough research notes he had kept about his current sojourn.

The trip had been so far uneventful and he hoped it would remain generally so, but uneventful meant no stories, and no stories meant unmemorable. While he waited for his drink, Alexandyr took a measure of the other figures in and around the bar, attempting to form a mental rogue’s gallery. There had been the Gamorreans at the door, a few loose patrons getting their drinks and squatted at the various tables around the bar, and a pale-skinned Zabrak behind the bar. So… An empty bar so far. It had likely just opened for daily operations, guessing by the general lack of noise at any of the locations, casino excepted.

“I wonder if there’s any good food on this station?” He mused.

“Greetings, Tower. This is callsign Herf, Aurek, Usk, 0-5-1 requesting permission to land.” Kadrol radioed down as he approached Sundari Station. After a few moments a voice called back over the radio “Herf, Aurek, Usk, 0-5-1 you are cleared to land at docking bay 3.” “051, Docking Bay 3.” The Pantoran relayed back. As Kadrol approached the landing site, he rotated the two large thrusters of his Aurore-class Freighter ninety degrees into the landing formation, beginning his descent.

After landing, Kadrol pondered his surroundings. How fitting that after two years out in the mid-rim as a part-time bounty hunter I would return to the Brotherhood only to find myself amongst bounty hunters again.

After familiarizing himself with the docking area, he got up from the cockpit. “Tenz, you coming?” He called out. A series of whirs and whistles replied back. “Come here then.” Kadrol prompted, his hand lowering the ramp. After the cyan and gold-colored droid rolled down, Kadrol closed up the ship and made his way into Sundari Station with Tenz at his side. “Flying stresses me out, let’s go get a drink.”

The pair made their way down the promenade towards The Mortuary, Kadrol’s body tensing up the entire way from his dislike of shoulder-to-shoulder traffic. From years of being in the Brotherhood, Kadrol had learned to constantly survey his surroundings. Upon entering, Kadrol made his way to the bar. “Spice runner cider, please.” He requested, slapping his payment on the bar top. When he received his drink, he made his way over to a booth seat to the side of the bar and took a drink.

Vez stormed into the Promenade, her bowtie hanging limply over her shoulders while the rest of her finery remained otherwise intact. The clacking of her heels against the floor was almost totally drowned out by the thudding tread of PowerDuke as the hulking murderbot tried to keep up with his mistress.

The Mirialan paused for a moment, lighting a cigarra as she glanced at the signage. Realizing that the Mortuary had to be the bar, she made a beeline for it. The Duke burbled out an apology in its heavily accented Binary.

“I’m still not speaking to you,” Vez snapped. She waved at the bartender impatiently. “One of anything.”

Asher laid quietly in his bunk, his posture like a corpse ready for burial. He never dreamed but he always slept fine, albeit light enough to hear a pin drop in a neighboring room. A notifying beep came from the overhead in his cabin. His eyes opened without hesitation and without haste.

“Sir, we are coming up on Sundari Station. As you requested, I am giving you your wake-up call.” A voice said over the comm system.

Asher sat up from the bed and leaned forward, depressing a button on a nearby communication panel. “Thank you, Captain.” He spoke more clearly than most would after a rest. “Let me know when we arrive.” He heard the Captain acknowledge the request as he exited the room.

Coming into the lounge of the starship, Asher powered on the holotable in the center. A familiar ring sounded and he stood back at parade rest. Keeper appeared in a flickering blue image. He wasn’t old, but had a couple decades on the young agent.

“Cypher Fourteen,” Keeper began. “as Watcher Zero informed you in your preliminary briefing, you are headed to the Sundari Station on reconnaissance. Our Vizier has instructed us to obtain information regarding the Dark Councilor Zxyl Bes’uliik. We are looking for information that might prove useful to the Regent’s downfall or the Proconsul’s ascent.”

“I didn’t know Imperial Intelligence intervened in political affairs,” Cyper fourteen responded.

“We do not. However, while we don’t report to the Vizier directly, his proximity to the Emperor garners us… special attention. The Proconsul does not often solicit our service, which means this is a rare… honor for Imperial Intelligence to work under the consideration of a high-profile member of the Empire.”

“I believe I understand, sir.” The Cypher said flatly.

“Good. The Regent cannot know of the Empire’s involvement. This means you are to assume the cover identity Watcher Zero provided you. Remember, Cypher: Find a weak point to exploit, but do not use it. Our job is only provide our Vizier with leverage. Keeper out.”

Keeper’s image flickered away, replaced by an advertisement for a vacation getaway package. The Captain’s voice came on over the comm system again, “Sir, we’ve arrived and are cleared to land. Beginning our approach now.”

Cypher pulled out his datapad to go over the cover identity once more.

Lo’rance Baftal. Owner of a Courier company specializing in high-value packages, Parsec Parcels. Imperial records indicate observation of his routes through Imperial space and note a particular efficiency to his deliveries.

Content with his understanding, he returned to his room to change. He straightened his Correlian jacket and ran his fingers through his brown hair, messing up the groomed appearance of an Imperial.

Exiting the freighter, Lo’rance walked with swagger. He strolled down the hallways of the station, pausing every so often to “check” his appearance in the mirror, brush “something” off his shoulder, and continue walking.

“At ease, soldiers.” He jibed at the Gamorreans posted outside the Mortuary. He walked in and lingered to breathe in his environment. Zxyl was not present here. Not yet at least. “Ah, ain’t nothin’ like a good ol’ cantina.” He moved toward the bar. “Gimme a Black Fizzer,” he said to the bartender…

Kadrol wanted to roll his eyes. Why must Sith always be so dramatic? he thought to himself. The Pantoran raised his bottle back to his lips and took a sip. Being Palatinaen, Kadrol had dealt with his fair share of Sith, and somehow every interaction was always the same. Placing the bottle back down on the table, Kadrol decided to acknowledge the Sith despite every bone in his body telling him he should do otherwise. “That’s a good joke, it’s a shame we’ll never know the answer,” Kadrol said, directing his gaze directly into his provoker’s yellowish-red eyes, “I’m no Jedi.”

He had just taken a draw from his whiskey when he saw the Zabrak ( <@315192554410999808> ) cross the bar and take a seat with the Pantoran and begin his riddle. The Pantoran’s response made him chuckle a bit as he pantomimed and hastened his drink down.

“No, no, please, let him continue. Haven’t seen a Jedi in a while, but I love a good story.” The Sojourner called as he tapped on the breast of his chestplate.

It may have once been “Jedi Battle Armor” but the Sojourner took relics from his journey for the ease of use and the stories they told. For right now, he was much more interested in the riddle the Sith had proposed.

“So, please, go on. What does the Sith say?” He asked, untamed curls falling over his face as he leaned forward and slid his datapad into his pack.

Zxyl entered through the main door of The Mortuary with an attempt at a subtle entrance, though the Dathomirian Zabrak-Mandalorian’s heavy built beskar armor rarely allowed for such. His newly crafted custom WESTAR-35s were secured to the magnetic holsters on his thighs, and a new lightsaber - not seen before - hung from his belt. His usually glowing red cape was in tatters, torn in a diagonal pattern with a large portion missing, and most of his left side was covered in crusted-over mud. The Regent of the Brotherhood looked around the establishment momentarily, before taking a seat by himself at the bar and ordering a drink.

He needed one.

Coming in through a back entrance Korvis sat down next to Shooter. Motioning to the bartender he ordered them both a round drinks. Being a regular had it’s benefits as they knew both of the Mandalorians drinks of choice.

“Tranok informs me that there have been several assassinations of late. Your doing?” The Consul asked before the drinks arrived.

“Me, I thought this was your doing.”

“You know I would go through you to handle such matters. I am shall we say less delicate.” There was truth to that even the spymaster had to acknowledge. Shooter was a scalpel taking out only what was needed. Korvis on the other hand was more like a Beskad, cleaving his way through until he got the results.

“I will look into it. Perhaps the gutter boys and the urchins know something.” Shooter was of course referring to both the criminal underbelly and the kids that he employed as spies. The latter were quite resourceful as people tended to pay no mind to orphan kids on the street corners of Zsoldos.

“See that you do. I have little care if the Mortis spies show up dead, but I dislike it happening without my knowledge. Now, no more business, at least in here.” The bar was filling up and he wouldn’t have their conversation made public.

Shooter downed his drink and excuses himself. No doubt to go see what he could learn. Korvis turned his attention to the patrons of The Mortuary. More members of the Brotherhoods clans have been showing up as of late and Korvis was going to at least make them feel welcome.

The two Imperial Sith followed their guide through the station until finally coming into an open sort of courtyard that served as the intersection between the different establishments.

“Welcome to the Promenade. Here you will find an assortment of shops and recreational centers designed for your comfort and entertainment, the most notable of such being ‘The Mortuary’”. The Protocol droid waved her hand stiffly, gesturing to the bar on the far side of the courtyard. “Please feel free to enjoy any of our wide selection of services, and again, welcome to Sundari Station! We hope you have a pleasant stay!”

“Thank you,” Ellac replied with a nod before the droid turned to leave.

“Time for those drinks,” Kandria said, smirking at Ellac as she stepped past him.

The Knight sighed as he looked up at the neon signage hanging above the Mortuary, reluctantly following after her.

“Oh, come on!,” she said, drooping her shoulders dramatically as she teased him. “It’ll be fine. You don’t even have to order anything… I’m sure somebody else will do that for you,” she muttered, invoking a glare from the Knight. “Dank Farrik, you act like going in there’s gonna kill you…”

“It’s called ‘The Mortuary’, it’s literally in the name, Kan!”

Kandria spun on her heel as she stepped up to the entrance of the bar, tilting her head as she stuck her bottom lip out at Ellac. “What? The big, bad Ellac can’t handle it? Is it too much for his wittle bitty heart to handle?”

Ellac shoved her forward, nodding at the two Gamorrean guards posted at the door. “Please, just… Shut up and let’s get this over with.”

Inside, the steady clamor of patrons mixed with the bassy cantina music. The place wasn’t too busy yet, but it was definitely starting to pick up. Ellac squinted as his eye adjusted to the low yellowish light. “I hate this already,” he muttered to himself, following Kandria to the bar.

Amidst all the fancy titles, aliases, names, and faces – or helmeted faces – and drinks flowing faster than pissing out a podracer came yet another figure into the Mortuary. The man was green-skinned and black-tattooed, plainly dressed, and bore an expression of tightly controlled disgust as his sharp, clear violet eyes flitted around the ridiculously named bar – but when weren’t franging bars named dumb kriff? At least this one was accurate. Bunch of would-be corpses, geling their livers in booze instead of embalming chemicals.

The Mirialan seemed to finally spy his target amidst the bar counter that had become quickly densely crowded; or at least, he spied her droid. The man seemed to brace himself, chest stilling, as though he wasn’t actually breathing, before he strode into the throng and through the crowd as though on a mission.

A datapad smacked down on the surface of the slick counter, just in time to cut Vez off from reaching for her drink, Ruka’s arm barring her from it. The limb stayed there, a physical barrier, palm pressing the pad down, as if to ensure it wouldn’t get away.

Or get telekinetically thrown away. Or a drink “spilled” on it. Or shot. That one had been blatant.

A flat glare fixed on the female Mirialan’s face as he snapped, “Sign. These. Already.” But, even as he spoke, he seemed to be taking in her slight dissary, the undone bowtie, the bouncing knee and agitated look. No, he told himself. No, whatever it is, no, you have a GOAL here, not again– “…what’s wrong?”

Forcekriffingdammit.

Vez sighed the sigh of a woman kept from her barely potable but much needed synthetic alcohol. “You had,” she began, giving PowerDuke a wicked sideeye, “one job.”

The droid started to rumble an apology but she cut him off. “One. Job. One!”

She reached out a hand and grabbed the edge of the pad, still pinned in place on the bar by Ruka’s arm. “Fine, I’ll give you your kriffing signature and I can be really alone.”

Ruka’s hand lifted to let her slide the pad closer, his eyes rolling. “Yeah, you’re real alone right now.” His lip curled slightly, a flick of his fingers and having to raise his voice even a foot away from her evidence enough to indicate the busy establishment around them. “I’m sure you can find someone here at a bar to keep you company.” A beat passed, and then, “What one job did your droid fail?”

She didn’t look hurt, so it couldn’t have been too bad.

“Nice boots,” Lo'rance said as he took a drink. “Seen better days, I’m sure.”

Kadrol looked towards the man who seemed to have a very similar fashion sense (<@236356564125089792> ) and then towards the seemingly apologetic Sith (<@315192554410999808> ). He gestured towards the empty seats. “Come, take a seat,” He said, “Let’s get to know each other before we pass judgement.” I might as well see if I can get on someone’s good side here. After all, it’s not what you know, it’s who you know that gets you places in life. He thought to himself.

The Dathomirian-Mandalorian turned his head to face the patron talking to him.. whom he hadn’t met before. He nodded. As his order arrived, Bes'uliik disconnected the air lines running from his back to the chin of his helmet and deactivated its main seal, the whole helmet splitting into segments and expanding slightly to allow it to slide off his head - and off his horns - comfortably. The armored man set it down beside his drink on the bar, but not before glancing around quickly for any threats - not that he was likely to find many if at all here in Vizslan space. Zxyl stroked his well-braided beard for a moment, surveying his muddied armor before his heterochromatic irises settled again on the man. “Indeed they have. You are?”

The Mandalorian took a fat swig of his drink, left hand resting on the bar between his helmet and the black, gold, and silver custom WESTAR-35 attached to his left thigh and gold-masked helmet. Although he had ventured back to Sundari Station for a relaxing drink, the Regent was almost always traveling on business - for the Council or otherwise.

Alexandyr turned once more in his seat and motioned at the barkeep. He pointed at his glass to motion for a refill, then to the table where he would join the rather verbose group. His eyes taken off of them for a brief moment as he heard the slap of a datapad being slapped to the counter and their brief argument.

Lovers Quarrel? He wondered to himself as he sauntered over to his newfound company.

As he settled in quatre-corner of the two men and placed his drink on the table, he laughed softly at Kadrol’s assertion.

“I find it’s a little of both, and a good pair of boots, that tends to take me places in life. Gotta know **people* to have access. Gotta know things to have a reason. And need good boots to keep your feet dry on the way.”* With slight emphasis on each of his points, he bounced his eyes between the two men, then down to his own feet.

Maybe a new pair of boots wouldn’t be a bad idea. He thought to himself.

The pretending agent finished his drink with a satisfied gasp. “In between jobs,” he said, wiping his mouth with the napkin his glass was served on. “Actually, it’s more accurate to say that I’m looking for the next job.”

He turned to the bartender about to order another drink. Pausing to consider what he wanted, he looked back to the Mandalorian. “Hmm.. You look like you’ve been here before. What do you recommend?”

“Keeping big green bros from ruining the first legitimate date I’ve had in years,” Vez grumbled, entering her chain code into the pad. “And specifically keeping you out of my way. So I guess that’s two jobs. Congrats, Duke, you don’t have to go into the shame cage tonight.”

She held the data pad out to Ruka. “You know, you could’ve sent a bounty hunter like a normal person.”

Ruka might have felt the slightest bit bad about the date part – she had been a guest on Selen, after all – except for one little thing there.

His teeth bared in an expression that wasn’t a smile at her.

“You mean like when someone sent you to kidnap my husband? Yes, that’s exactly what a normal, rational person does. Instead of going themselves to talk to the woman who has been dodging an annulment for over a year.”

“Yep. Definitely a lover’s quarrel.” The Sojourner mused as he overheard the arguing Mirialans.

“Not lovers,” the male of the pair snapped, almost automatically, and then narrowed his eyes as he glanced over down the bar behind Vez. His tone took on more grumble, actually nicer than the one Vez was receiving. “Mind yo damn business, ay.”

Kadrol nodded, acknowledging his new acquaintance while trying to gather more information on the subject.

“Looks like a duck, swims like a duck, whines like a sad Porg.” The Sojourner motioned as his eyes stayed with his fellows at the table.

“At least Porgs are cute.” Kadrol said softly. He raised his drink up to his mouth to hide his smug expression.

“One Corellian Noale, please.” Kandria placed a credit stick onto the counter, the bartender nodding to her as he began preparing her order. Glancing over at the Mirialan man shouting at the patrons at the table, her brow raised, turning to Ellac. “So, what now?”

Ellac’s nose scrunched as he tried to ignore the stench of alcohol that surrounded the bar. “You’ve got you’re drink… Time to make some friends,” he said, gesturing to the other patrons at the bar. “Take your pick.”

Kandria leaned back against the tall counter, bracing her elbows on either side of her. “Technically, I don’t have my drink ye-“ Behind her, the bartender placed her beverage on the bar, right on que. The Miralukan looked down at the glass for a moment before picking it up, turning back to her compatriot. “Never mind,” she said in a sing-song voice.

Ellac smirked at the woman from the corner of his eye as he turned to take in the faces around him, most of which he didn’t recognize, and the few he did, he didn’t know too well.

Across the room, wading through the now bustling cantina, he noticed Korvis greeting a group of patrons at a table.

“Why don’t we start with the biggest fish in the pond?,” Ellac chimed, raising his eyebrows a couple times at Kandria.

“Ellac, no… No. This is exactly how you lost your eye…” The young woman said, immediately regretting egging him on.

“I lived, didn’t I?” The Knight grinned as he took a few steps away from the bar. “You coming or not?”

Kandria downed the rest of her drink before pushing herself off the counter. “Why can’t you ever just be normal and talk to someone who doesn’t have some sort of high standings within the Brotherhood?”

“What? Is it too much for the big bad Sith to handle?”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Ellac pushed through the crowd, ignoring the rest of her grumblings as he made his way over to the Vizsla Consul. “Korvis Manda’vod?” He asked, extending his hand. “Ellac Conrat.”

Ruka had merely rolled his eyes yet again and turned back to Vez, muttering in their native tongue about the abject evils of the quacking variety.

“Ah, Ellac.” Korvis said extending his own hand to meet the hand shake. As usual Korvis immediately sized the man up. “I see Kam'jin was not exaggerating in your rise among the Empire.”

“And I have further yet to rise,” Ellac said, looking up at the Mandalorian towering above him. It wasn’t often he met someone that made him feel short.

From his seat, Kadrol thought he heard one of the other patrons at the bar mention the name “Kam'jin”. Now, Kadrol hadn’t been back to the Caperion System long enough to have met the man, but from his correspondence with Reiden Karr, Kadrol’s long-time superior, he had been informed that Kam'jin was the name of Clan Scholae Palatinae’s new Emperor. Kadrol excused himself and made his way towards the conversation. Upon approaching the two men, Kadrol introduced himself. “Greetings. My name is Kadrol Hauen, of House Excid- of Clan Scholae Palatinae. I heard you mention Kam'jin?”

Ellac turned to see the man approaching them. It wasn’t a face he recognized but if he was part of the Empire, he was bound to run into him at some point. “Kadrol? Ellac Conrat. Good to meet another Imperial face. I was just introducing myself to Clan Vizsla’s very own Consul, Korvis,” he said, nodding to his new acquaintance.

“Look, I’m not the one who put a bounty out on Mr. Perfect,” Vez started in Basic, jabbing two fingers with a cigarra tucked between them in Ruka’s general direction. “Usually in my line of work, when someone’s own family puts a bounty on them for ‘crimes against nature’ it’s, I don’t know, decraniation or some druk with a Mairan or something, not just banging a poor person.”

She reached back over for her drink. “Besides, you’re the one who burned that club down.”

“Why, because I’m a Mandalorian? I don’t have a recommendation,” Zxyl quickly finished his drink, ordering another from the bartender. He turned his head to face Korvis, and quickly finished his newly acquired drink once it arrived. He grabbed his bucket with both hands, sliding it over his head and resecuring it in place as he moved on over from his place at the bar with small chunks of dried mud flaking off his armor.

“Consul,” the Dathomirian-Mandalorian said matter-of-factly as he approached, his typical greeting towards the man.

“Regent,” came the dutiful reply with a respectful nod from his MandoBro, with the towering man studying him momentarily, “You’re making a bit of a mess.”

“Put it on my tab. I trust everything proceeded as planned?” Zxyl questioned, his overall tone and demeanor changed from the last time the two Mandalorians spoke. Something was different about him, though aside from some clearly new weaponry Korvis couldn’t say what yet.

The Vizslan Consul simply nodded. He wasn’t about to divulge valuable military intelligence here, but a simple nod wouldn’t give anything away.

“Good, good…” Bes'uliik paused for a moment, “The armor still treating you well? Almost looks like it’s time for an upgrade. I have one planned myself, but I haven’t had time while balancing a hunt and setting up a more… lucrative storefront in Mattock.”

<@583854106599489557>

“Me?!” Ruka began to screech, before lowering his voice to a hiss. “Maybe you don’t remember this, since you was high, but you were the one startin’ a kriffin’ chemical fire in the broom closet! I saved yo damn ass, ay!”

“Are you karking serious right now? You shot lightning everywhere, ripped out the sound system and threw it at my head, and you’re talking about saving me like I wasn’t trying to get away from you in the first place?”

“Drugged. And. Kidnapped. My. Husband!” The man gestured sharply with every word, practically clapping between each one. “In the middle of our operation! Damn right I’m talking about pulling you out of the literal fire you literally started! Know what I didn’t do despite ‘shooting lightning everywhere’? Aim at any civilians or light any fires!” He jabbed a finger at her. “You started a bar brawl by calling me a pedophile.”

Alexandyr quirked an eyebrow and took a sip of his drink. While he had more than willingly let go of the ducks quacking, mentions of decraniation and pedophilia got the former slave’s attention and his hand twitched on his glass.

Vez opened her mouth, paused, then spoke. “Ok, I was out of line with the pedo thing. The next time I tell a crowd you have a bounty on you I will pick a less offensive lie. But I think that Barabel you blasted in the back would have something to say about the lightning. And I didn’t drug anybody.” She sighed.

“Anyway, Cora says the whole thing is what finally got the rest of the family to cut his sleemo uncle off.”

Ruka’s outraged expression pinched minutely into something more neutral at the retraction. It pinched further into something more resembling a pout around the lips and scowl at the brow at mention of his husband.

“Yeah, we figured that one out,” he muttered crossly, and crossed his arms, glaring at the bottles behind the bar before he sighed. “I’d say I still can’t believe he talks to you, but it’s Cor, so, of course he does. Sister apprentices or whatever. Which, ay, unfortunately reminds me…”

This sigh was much greater. The Mirialan man rubbed at his temples and dragged a hand down his face, then squared his shoulders.

“I am sorry,” he said, low and halting, “for ruining your day at the resort. That was crummy of me, to pull our kriff out in public, when you were with somebody,” he nodded to the datapad. “I was just getting… desperate, and frustrated, and the time of year really kinda hit home that it’s been a year since Atyiru pulled this frang on us and it was still hanging over my head that I’m– basically cheating on the man I love, or on you, in principle. It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. But it has bothered me*a lot* for months. But I still did something shitty, so I’m sorry. And I’m supposed to invite you to dinner.”

“Oh.”

The word hung in the air, mingling with the smoke from her cigarra until she finally smothered the latter in her empty glass. “I assumed it was just that you couldn’t stand to be associated with me. Not like you needed that spot clear for another girl, right?” She sighed. “I’m the one who oughta apologize. So… sorry.”

Lo’rance held his drink appearing to be stunned at the simple disregard the Regent had for him. He noted to whom and what his target spoke. Lucrative storefront in Mattock He closed his eyes and took a swig to cover his use of the method of loci (mnemonic device). He knew the where and the what now, but hadn’t worked out the code. Doesn’t matter. Watchers may be able to make something of it.

Lo’rance looked around the room surveying conversations he could reasonably insert himself into while still maintaining earshot on his mark…

Ruka shifted on his feet, looking about as uncomfortable as Vez did, but he gave a soft grunt of appreciation for that. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t like they needed to get into his opinion of her or any of the many and troubled ways she pinged off his “mommy issues,” as Qyreia liked to call them, so he didn’t. Instead, he just offered up something resembling a segue, mediocre social skill courtesy of being married to a trained noble that could make friends with anybody for eight years.

“You’re not that bad, or Turel wouldn’t be gushing to Cor about you whenever they catch up. Having fun being a Padawan yet?” One eyebrow quirked a little at that, a bit of a wry huff.

“Well, last year I got chased around the Praxeum by a raptor with a rock growing out of its head. But the nightmares are a lot better and now I have conversations with people that aren’t about spice or crime.” Vez wrinkled up her nose, not quite believing that Ruka was making small talk with her.

“I feel stupid asking this but… if I stop dodging that dinner invitation… it’s not, I don’t know, a trap?” She saw his expression and immediately backpedaled.

“I know Cora's—” she paused, trying and failing to come up with something that didn’t sound mean. “I’m just not used to people being nice unless there’s an angle.”

The other Mirialan’s face gentled suddenly at that in a way that might be described as melty. It screamed of absolute adoration, and he actually laughed softly, snorting.

“Nah, I get you,” he assured, waving off the obvious struggle. “Gutter kid here, remember? I’m paranoid as hell. And I got double the issues with nobles and seeming nice, nevermind, like…accepting help and trusting people. Guess what, still working those out all these years into marriage. But Cor? You can believe in Cor. It’s not a trap, no angle, he’s just that nice.”

A bit of a pause, and his demeanor contracted again, slightly defensive, but mostly ashamed, tired. He sighed.

“And for the record, I don’t mean you any harm either. We got off on the worst foot possible. I was violent to you, I ain’t pretending anything different than that, ay, but I really, really hate fighting or any of that kriff, even when it is lives on the line. You come to our home, you a guest, you’ll be safe there. At worst, my daughter might gonna judge the hell outta you, ay. Really wish I could say the kids didn’t get any baggage from our Mama and me too, but the more we’re actually around, like, other people, and more they get into teenage years, the more of it I’m seeing. The raptors with rocks ain’t helping.”

As he heard the cacophony of people and situations around him rising, the Sojourner smiled as he gleaned small bits of information about each of the people he witnessed. But, he could not let go of his little ducklings even still.

Why is it so hard for people to just come out and explain how they feel? He wondered, even if just for a moment.

As the pair of Mirialans ( <@244244163002892288>, <@371402534973341696> ) continued through their little jaunt down memory lane Alexandyr eventually turned away from his conversational partner ( <@315192554410999808> ) as their third had already ventured to find another to converse with.

“If the pair of you are so enamoured with one another, why don’t you just do us all a favour, break the tension, and kiss? I think we might all feel a bit better for it.” He jeered, more in jest, but pointing out how their contention and occasional outbursts kept making them the center of attention for others as well as his obvious gaze.

What had lead Sivall to Sundari Station? Lies. Lies cleverly disguised as newfound knowledge to be shared to those with the drive to learn. But like so many other times, this knowledge was just a rumor, and once again the Chiss was left wanting. So what is one wont to do when on a ship with no other motive? Drink. So drink she would.

The noise from the Mortuary drifted to the ears of the sky-blue skinned woman before her hands even pressed open the doors– equal measure merry making and trouble –the normal for most dive bars she had managed to visit (few as those were). Steeling herself for what would likely be an overall overstimulating venture, Sivall took a deep breath and entered the establishment.

One thing she still had not gotten a hang of in her small time with the Brotherhood was the vastness of the varying types of people who filled the world. The Mortuary was filled with a handful of beings from different walks and creeds. The Chiss felt her body tighten at the sight of the small crowd, shoulders squaring and her jaw setting. One drink, she thought, One drink, and I’ll head home. Carefully and deliberately, Sivall found a place at the bar top to order as far away from the quarreling pair [ <@244244163002892288>, <@371402534973341696> ] and the pair at the table (with a man who’s face sparked passing recognition in her mind) [ <@236356564125089792>, <@315192554410999808> ] as she could get, which was admittedly not very far.

“One glass of Sunberry wine please, the cheapest you have,” the Chiss voiced carefully. Loud enough to be understood but quiet enough to not draw attention. Luckily for her, the barkeep seemed adept at dealing out drinks to multiple customers and she soon found her hands wrapped around a glass of liquid courage. Zosi'val'ria paid for her beverage and lifted the glass to her cerulean lips, taking a sip of her order before grimacing softly. Metallic, but you get what you pay for, so she had no complaints.

Kandria propped an arm on Ellac’s much taller shoulder, inviting the Knight’s glare as she turned to Kadrol. “You’re Imperial, right? My name’s Kandria,” she said, extending her hand to the Pantoran. She could sense the Force flowing through him, lighter and more pure than the dark aura coursing through a Sith like Ellac… The contrast between the two men brought a small smirk. She knew Ellac could sense it too, even if his abilities weren’t as finely tuned as hers. “What brings you out to Vizsla space?”

Red flashing lights, warning signals, and a ride so bumpy it made Antei look like a holiday resort by comparison.

Yep. They were screwed.

“You said you knew how to pilot a ship through an asteroid field!”

Darrio’s panic was not helping.

“I do!” Appius fiddled with levers, buttons, anything that he could get his hands on to try and steady the ship. “You had to pick the worst ship for us to use!”

Darrio slammed a fist into the central console. “Stop making excuses and get us out of here!”

Appius didn’t know where they even were. Their hyperdrive had been damaged following a collision with an asteroid and had blasted them to who-knew-where. Power was fading, oxygen was depleting, and if this lasted longer, they’d die.

There was only one thing for it.

“Can anyone pick up this signal!? Vessel in need of urgent assistance!”

Darrio was just about to tear his hair out. “Who the hell is going to answer all the way out here!?”

“Unidentified craft, state your name and intentions.”

Hope. That’s what that sounded like.

“We don’t have time! We need a hangar or something to land in, quickly!”

“Appius! Our oxygen!”

Critical Failure: Oxygen Levels 7%

Out in the distance, Appius made out a structure in the middle of space.

“I repeat state your name and intention.”

Appius turned off communications. “I’ve got no time for this!”

He aimed their space spacehopper at the brightly lit hangar bay.

“Darrio, hold onto something!”

With a small amount of skill, and a lot of sheer, dumb luck, Appius managed to guide their ship into the hangar bay. He was, however, unable to slow down. Their engines burst into flames, durasteel ripped from the chassis before friction finally brought them to a stop.

Their ship was barely recognisable, but they’d done it.

Appius’ hands shook. “Holy kark… we made it.”

“Yeah…” Darrio said. “Where are we anyways?”

Ruka’s gaze shot again over Vez’s shoulder to their heckler. He gave the man the flattest look possible, and his tone was somewhere between scathing lecture and exasperation when he spoke.

“Hey, bud, whoever you are, ay. If you’re gonna keep being rude as kriff and ease dropping and commenting on our entire conversation then you must know by now that we are not into each other at all, so why don’t you quit trying to be inflammatory here and just not be a dick? Drink yo damn drink. Leave us alone.”

Alexandyr quirked to the direct response this time, motioning to his conversational partner as he turned around to face the Mirialan with a dumbstruck look on his face. Copper coils of hair bounced over his eyes and were brushed away as he spoke to the man.

“I ain’t been droppin’ no eaves sir, honest. I was just trying to enjoy a good drink with my new pal here, when some druk-brained couple started arguing enough to wake the dead, in a Mortuary of all places.” He added with a sarcastic chuckle.

Adjusting the robe over his armor, the Sojourner turned to stand and presented himself to the pair from where he stood.

“Doubt I’ll be returned the courtesy, but, Alexandyr Douve. I’d apologize for the jests, but, you did make a spectacle of your business when things were still quiet. And I’m a sucker for an easy bit of fun.” The man continued with a small flourish of a bow.

The Mirialan continued to stare at him with a look that brooked no amusement.

“So you’re not sorry, you’re calling us idiots and assuming we ain’t got manners, and you admit you’re making fun, ay. Not a great introduction, Douve. Ruka,” he deadpanned, jerking a thumb at himself, then at his companion. “Whoever she wants to be to you. Kay? We done?”

“I suppose calling the pair of you idiots would be a bad idea, wouldn'it? After all, the lady there was minding her own and just drowning her sorrows, specifically until a certain individual decided it would be a good time to be loud. So, to you, ma'am ( <@371402534973341696> ), I would, in fact like to apologize. Your compatriot here was the one who dreadfully, dreadfully, caught my ire, and you honestly deserved none of my jeering or insults for their actions. I was remiss for not separating the two of you earlier.” His smirk only deepened as he kept gaze with Ruka.

Oh, this is hilarious. “Finally, someone who understands that none of the consequences of my actions are my fault. I’m Vez, and this is the Duke.” She gestured to the hulking droid that loomed over Ruka’s shoulder. “Say hello, Duke.”

The Duke glowered, empty black receptors fixed on the newcomer. It did not say hello.

Ruka looked to the ceiling as if for patience from the heavens.

“All yours, Hirundo.” This emphasis was made with a waggle of the datapad he picked up and tucked back under his arm, as if to say, cease and desist using my name to get you into places and stop trying to put things on my credit chits. “You have fun with each other.”

With that the Mirialan man turned away, more than done with the bar. Though, he paused to look back.

“Am I telling Cora to expect you or nah?”

“Yeah, I’ll stop dodging his calls. I’ll still be me, though, so maybe manage his expectations a little about my dinner etiquette.”

“He married me, he’s not worried about table manners, even if I do have ‘em.” Ruka actually smiled slightly back at her, then growing more serious. “Just no drugs or booze in the house. They come near the kids, I’m kicking you out, ay?”

“I’ll save my corrupting influence for the Praxeum.”

The man snorted, nodded, then resumed his beeline for the exit, eyes flicking over faces as he went. Lots of helmets, unsurprising in Vizslan space. No one he was familiar with, save the Regent of the Brotherhood himself, if he remembered right, and ugh. Not except on holocalls to the Council with Qyreia, thanks. And that was Korvis over there. A slim Chiss who looked blatantly uncomfortable at the bar; his stride slowed for that, but nobody was obviously harassing her. Better to leave her be.

At least, such was the thought until he realized he recognized her face too, and his eyes clocked back, just to be sure. That did seem like the holo of one of their new Journeymen. One he personally hadn’t gotten to introduce himself to yet. A frown pulled at the Mirialan’s lips. Hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, Ruka gave a sigh for the thought of actually breathable air outside the bar and turned back to approach. He stopped several stools away, minding her space.

“Ay, ma'am? Sorry to bother you if I got the wrong person, but are you,” he winched slightly, just waiting for his Mirialan accent to butcher this, “Zosi'val'ria? You got brought to Dajorra, couple weeks or so ago? To join the Clan?”

( <@264959101384130560> )

“I do some upgrades planned out.” Korvis responded to the Regent. “Looking to possibly beef up the armor. Plus I have heard rumors of some rare items that have been acquired for possible resale by A.C.E.”

<@260640060775464960>

“Oh? Where did you hear that?” Zxyl queried, interested to know Korvis’ source.

“Well I made inquiries after I was out bid. Either way I will still get what I want, with a markup presumably.” He replied to the Regent. “Of course I don’t know for sure because someone was pretty good at covering their tracks.”

“Well I was going to find my former master, Brimstone,” Kadrol replied earnestly, “I figured this would be a good place to start.”

Just then, a crushing pain shot up from Kadrol’s ankle. The Pantoran looked down to see his grey and cyan BB-unit rolling back and forth, ramming into the side of his leg. “Beep boop beeep beep whirr.” The droid said, having gained its master’s attention.

“Kriffing Force, Tenz. You saw me walk over here. Must I do everything for you?” Kadrol asked sarcastically. Tenz’ reply carried so much dismay that Kadrol was certain even someone who didn’t know droidspeak could ascertain the correct meaning. Fed up with the droid’s need for attention, Kadrol rolled his eyes and turned back to the two Sith. “So… When did you both get to the Caperion System?”

Sivall slowly turned her gaze from the bar top to the Mirialian who’s voice drifted to her from some distance away. Glass still lifted to her lips but not actively drinking, the Chiss woman searched his face for a moment as he spoke, horrified that she should potentially know this person but couldn’t put a name to his face. To make matters worse he used her “true” name, meaning he definitely knew her.

Shit, why was she so bad at this?

Nearly choking on her wine, Sivall pulled the glass from her lips and cleared her throat. “Ah, y-yes that’s me. Although, you’re welcome to call me Sivall. It’s what I’m used to.” The blue skinned woman brushed her hands against the top of her issued Brotherhood gear in an attempt to potentially make herself more presentable— despite nothing being wrinkled or out of place.

After a second more of her crimson eyes searching Ruka’s face, her own face crumpled slightly in to an apologetic and somewhat uncomfortable expression. “I don’t think we’ve met,” she started carefully, “but if we have I have to apologize… I’ve met so many new people recently that everyone’s started to blur together…”

“Ay, ay, no worries, Sivall,” thank Ashla, something easier, “we ain’t met yet. I just thought I recognized you from your file so I wanted to, y'know…come introduce myself. I’m Ruka. Ruka Tenbriss Ya-ir.” He stuck out a hand, in case she wanted to shake. That uncomfortable expression was like looking at a mirror. “I’m your Proconsul. Which basically just means it’s my job to help look out for you, teach you if you want, make sure nobody sets something on fire or starts a war, that kinda kriff.”

The Sojourner made his way back to the table where he sat with the Sith, his eyes trained on Ruka still as the man moved to exit the bar. Another woman caught his attention, this one seemed similar to both men. Then he heard the man say something very unexpected.

“I’m your Proconsul.” He overheard, which caused him to scramble for his data pad.

He had been returning home from another long journey through wild space and made this stop in Vizsla Clan Space to see what he could learn on the way. His secure datapad lit up with a familiar face.

“Oh, frak. This is going to be interesting when he realizes.” The Sojourner murmured under his breath as he looked over at Shimrah. ( <@315192554410999808> )

“So, is this place always so lively?” He questioned, changing topic.

“I’m actually still one of the fresher faces to the clan. Ellac’s been around a lot longer than I have,” Kandria said, sliding her arm off the Knight’s shoulder, shifting her weight to her other hip. “I used to do a lot of work as a freelancer before I met him, but I recently made some… ‘adjustments’… to my business model. I still take contracts, but now I’ve got a partner-in-crime, so to speak.” Kandria let that smug little smirk back onto her mouth as she side-eyed Ellac.

“Only on occasion… Most of the time, you run my assignments with me,” Ellac retorted, turning back to Kadrol. “I’ve been in the clan for a few years now myself… My master found me and brought me in to train as his apprentice, which is also when I met Kamjin-” Ellac tapped the eyepatch covering the vacant hole in his face where his left eye used to be. “-and he gave me this. He seemed to think it fitting that I have something to remember him by…”

“That’s kinda par for the course when running with the Sith,” Kadrol acknowledged his new one-eyed friend, “I should know. I used to be one. Brimstone, the man I now seek, brought me here when I was a young teen. Taught me how to use the Force and bend it to my will. Yet the Force intervened and separated us and upon my return I landed in with the Empire where I was brought up by the Empress herself.”

Kadrol looked back to the faces of his clan mates, trying to study them. How these two who had not been there to witness his master’s betrayal reacted would tell him if it was safe or not to return to the Caperion System.

–

Darrio left the ship first, thankful to be on solid, stable durasteel. Maintenance droids whizzed about the hangar, trying to make sense of the wreckage in front of them.

Appius followed after him. “That is the last time I take your advice on directions.”

Darrio shrugged. “Not my fault you can’t pilot a ship worth a damn.”

Appius folded his arms across his chest. “Probably because that ship isn’t worth a damn.”

Darrio rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where are we, anyways? I don’t know why, but this hangar looks kind of familiar.”

Appius conceded his point. There was, indeed, something strangely familiar about the place. He tapped into the Force, letting his senses come to to life as he sought familiarity among the thousands within the station.

Zxyl… Korvis… and… was that Ruka? There was no mistaking it, it was them. Appius made a point of remembering the feeling of key figures in the Force. It felt like a lot of Vizslians were here, but why were-

It hit him. He knew where they were. His eyes widened. “Darrio, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“But Appius,” Darrio feigned hurt. “We’ve only just arrived!”

“And if we don’t leave now, we may never leave! Come on, let’s find a ship and-”

They were suddenly surrounded by members of House Deathwatch, blasters primed on them.

It then clicked with Darrio. “Dank farrik…”

“The Empress?” Intrigue mixed with surprise in Ellac’s voiced at the mention of Clan Scholae Palatinae’s former ruler. “You’ve been around for a some time, then. It’s been a while since we’ve had an Empress. But I should tell you, Kamjin has since assumed the throne.”

“Which means your life is about to get a whole lot worse,” Kandria interjected with a nudge.

“He may be the Emperor now, but he’s still just a man. And men can die…”

The Miralukan shook her head as she reached over, knocking her knuckles on the Sith’s cybernetic arm. “One of these days, Ellac, you’re going to pick a fight that you won’t walk away from.”

“Death is inevitable…,” Ellac said, looking down at the woman next to him. “But if it wants me, it has to earn me first.”

“If I had eyes, they’d definitely be rolling,” Kandria said, turning back to Kadrol. “See what I have to put up with?”

Sivall’s posture began to relax and the woman met Ruka’s outstretched hand, giving it a firm but handshake. The corner of the chiss woman’s mouth quirked upwards a little as the rest of her expression softened.

“Ruka Tenbriss Ya-ir… it’s nice to meet you, Ruka, sir. I hope I become an asset to you and everyone else in Arcona. I will certainly try my best.” Sivall would release the Mirialan’s hand and relax back on her seat, crimson hues flicking back briefly to the pair at the table. Why did the copper one look so familiar? Perhaps she would approach and find out after her current conversation.

Sivall forced her attention back to the man in front of her, gearing herself for a bit of a loaded question, “If you don’t mind my asking, who was the woman you were talking to? You seemed to know her somewhat well.” If the woman was part of the clan, she wanted to be prepared to talk to her in the future and not repeat this scenario.

Her ex-owners would have been so disappointed. Knowledge is power, she mocked in her head. It was the truth, but had been wielded against her like a weapon.

“Zxyl,” started the Regent’s artificial intelligence from inside his helmet, talking only at a volume that the Regent could hear, “You might be interested to know that I’m picking up a certain someone’s signature.”

The ever crafty Regent had ever-so-subtly placed a small, near imperceptible tracker woven into the mesh harness of every armor he constructed, so he could keep tabs on those that wore his work whenever he was around them.

The Mandalorian disabled his external vocoder, so that his words would not be heard outside the helmet and he could converse directly with his AI.

“Whose?” he asked, somewhat curiously. While he was a master in his trade, the Dathomiran-Mandalorian was very selective about who he made things for and he’d only constructed sets armor for several of his fellow Mandalorians so far. Idris, Appius, Korvis, and Socorra were on the list.

“Appius Wight,” answered the Helpful Artificial Lackey.

Oh dear.

Zxyl reactivated his vocoder, nudging Korvis.

“Hey,” he started quietly, “You have eyes on all your hangars? Appius is here.”

“What?” Korvis questioned, confused, “How do you know?”

“I just do.”

<@837236610684813342> <@583854106599489557>

Just as the Regent stopped speaking Korvis own warning system went off in his helmet. It was Tranok, the station’s, security officer. “Sir, we have a situation in Hanger 3 bay 4.”

“Found him.” The Consul stated before asking, “I assume you want to tag along?”

“Duh. I want to see if he brought his stupid brother with him,” Zxyl scoffed, before the two Mandalorians left the group and headed out from The Mortuary towards the hangar deck.

“Gentlemen, ladies,‘ Appius stepped forward. "I promise, this is not what it looks like.”

At that exact moment, part of tbe space hoppers durasteel playing collapsed to the ground behind them.

“Yeah, Appius said he was a decent pilot, which was total kark,” Darrio chimed in.

Appius “Darrio, I swear to Manda, shut up!”

The head of the Deathwatch unit stepped forward, Blaster Rifle aimed at Appius’ head. “The Consul is on his way. He’ll do with you personally.”

Appius moved the barrel of the blaster away from his head with one index finger. “Stop being dramatic, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The head grunt repointed his blaster, this time at Darrio. “You might not, but he will.”

All blasters aimed at Darrio.

Appius groaned and turned to Darrio. “See? This is what happens when you can’t keep your big mouth shut!”

The pair headed back through the private lifts. Normally, no one outside of staff and Vizsla members are allowed to use them but considering the station was in essence bought from the Regent he made an exception.

The duo exited the lift and soon arrived at bay 4. A dozen guards from Deathwatch stood with their Galaar rifles trained at Appius and…. Darrio Klars.

“Darrio Klars, you are either stupid or trying to test my patience. Neither is going to go well for you.” Korvis said without even acknowledging Appius presence. “I thought I had sent a very clear message.”

Zxyl pulled one of his new custom WESTAR-35s, Gratiir, and his newly forged lightsaber Duraniir from their homes, holding his blaster in his left hand and saber in his right as he waited for the next moves. He didn’t say anything just yet, but the message was clear enough.

Darrio put up his middle finger. “Well, frack you both as well.”

Appius clasped his hand over his eyes. “For crying out loud, Darrio…”

The Deathwatch unit leader approached Korvis and Zxyl. “They crash landed in… that.”

He pointed to the wreckage that was once a spacehopper.

Zxyl side-eyed the wreckage from behind his helmet for a moment, before turning back to the two Mandalorians.

“Appius. I’m pretty sure you know how this will go,” the Regent of the Brotherhood addressed his fellow Son of Taldryan directly, “Lets not have this get messier than it needs to. Settle the pup down.”

“Before I take that hand as trophy and shove him out an airlock to see how long he can hold his breath.” It was obvious Korvis was in no mood to be insulted on his own station. “On the second thought, shoot him.”

Before Darrio could even react the twelve members of Deathwatch unloaded a chorus of blaster fire. The blue beams of stun energy caught both Darrio and Appius by surprise. And Darrio slumped to the ground.

Twin lightsabers ignited, emerald in colour. Appius leapt in front of Daeeio and deflected the blasts towards him, sending the energy off to the sides.

“Korvis!” Appius called out to him. “Call them off!”

Zxyl stepped forward, activating - for the first time ever - his new silver, gold, and black lightsaber as he approached Appius. A crackling purple blade that faded away to black roared to life for a few moments, before the newly Elderized Regent tightened his grip on the weapon - triggering a pressure switch inside the grip - and the two small, golden guards on either side slid downwards to reveal two side emitters. A crackling purple blade sprang to life from each emitter, turning the weapon into a crossguard lightsaber in a second.

Appius turned his attention to the Regent as he was mere moments away from him, but couldn’t get any words out of his mouth as the heavily-armored Mandalorian brought the blade back and back down in a heavy angled slash towards his fellow Taldrya. Appius deftly blocked the strike with one of his own, buckling just ever so slightly under the force applied in the initial strike.

“You are a guest here, Appius Wight,” boomed the Regent’s voice, “Defending a near-murderer on the same station in which he committed his crimes. Lower your weapon, and let him pay his dues you selfrighteous fool! The Creed demands it.”

“He is just stunned, which is better than he deserves, now I suggest you deactivate your blades. In case you have forgotten you are in Vizsla territory and not even the Taldryan fleet could save you both before you are dead.” Replied the leader of Vizsla as he drew his Beskar spear. “As Zxyl says YOU are a ‘guest’. But that can be changed.”

Bes'uliik kept pressure applied as the two lightsabers continued to clash, awaiting a response from the Consul of Taldryan. It would be hard to argue the Regent’s point after invoking the Mandalorian Creed, especially with Zxyl.

Appius pushed back. The advantage he had is that he had two blades compared to Zxyl’s one, but the Regent was a brilliant swordsman.

Perhaps it came with tbe territory when he crafted them himself?

Regardless, Appius pushed back with enough strength to create some distance between ue and Zxyl.

“As I’ve stated twice now, this was not done on purpose. It was either we crash land here, or we died. There was no other option. If you want us gone that badly, Korvis, I’ll pay for a ship. I’m aware what the Creed demands, Zxyl, but he’s my brother. The Creed demands I defend my family. Yes, he’s an ass, and maybe he deserves his punishment, but it’s already been served. I will not abandon him,” Appius retracted the blades on his weapon. He held them down by his sides, but kept a firm grip. “Not again… We’ve lost too much for that.”

“He served part of his punishment. We have still not received the Armor he was told to replace. Aside from that he came to my home and just insulted not just me but my guest.” Korvis reminded Appius. “The last man who did that had his head sent back to Clan Fero.”

This could be fun. Kadrol thought, interpreting Kandria’s words as a chance to parse out Ellac’s skills. He placed his hand on the lightsaber located on his right hip, patting it. “What do you say we get out of here and see if there isn’t a place we could test your skills?”

“One would hope, but no.”

Darrio was many things. A man with impeccable timing was one of them. He slowly rose to his feet and staggered over to a very irritable Appius.

“With your permission, there was cargo on that ship that probably survived. Mind If we grab it?” Appius asked.

Seems like the spoils of Clan Vizsla, Zxyl mused to himself. If Appius had pulled this on Mattock Station, the Regent certainly would of had whatever cargo seized and sold. But this wasn’t his station.

Zxyl deactivated his lightsaber, and re-secured his weapons. He’d made his point. If Appius didn’t want to submit his brother to the Creed, the man of Clan Bes'uliik would remember his choice of blood.

Sure enough, a crate, heavily damaged, was pulled by Darrio from the wreckage. However, what was inside was in pristine condition.

It was the armor Korvis wanted.

Appius cleared his throat. “The intention was to take it back to the Caelus System and have it delivered to you. As you can see, the best laid plans don’t always go well.”

Alexandyr nodded as Shimra got up and made his departure, his mind reaching out and touching on The Force to get a sense of why everyone was suddenly so agitated.

His Sense drew him towards a gathering of everyone in a singular location. Anger, confusion, and perhaps a slake of bloodlust flowed from the various figures in the Hangars. But it was a gathering to which the Sojourner would not avail himself. As he drew his senses back from the myriad of conflicting sources he instead cast a sideways glance at the woman with Ruka once more.

I know I’ve met that woman before. ( <@264959101384130560> ) He thought to himself as he tried to place her.

His various travels through the systems played back in his head, the various Chiss and Pantoran peoples he had met through the years’ faces played in his head until one stuck out to him. A Force Sensitive former slave, much like himself, that he had tagged and flagged for another member of Clan Arcona to pick up as his current venture and accommodations did not allow for him to deliver her back to Selen himself.

Frak, I left her alone in a scummy hotel until the Clan could pick her up. She probably hates me… He played out the worst thoughts in his head as he looked between her and Ruka.

Could today get any worse?

Ruka’s friendly smile and awkward cringe at the sir were quick to melt away into a groaning sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine, ay, not you,” he was quick to assure, dropping his hand and waving to dismiss the reaction, “ask anything you want. Just…yeah, her. Her name is Vez. We’re not close exactly but she’s the new Padawan of one of my old teachers; my husband was his previous Padawan. Was just inviting her to family dinner. Bury some hatchets and kriff.” Figuring he might be talking for a little while, he glanced again at the door and then took a seat one away from Sivall, still leaving her some space but close enough to be heard. “If you got any other questions or need anything, I can try to answer. You didn’t get lost, did you? Vizsla space ain’t exactly near Arcona’s. Not that they’re…not allies…but if you ended up out here when you didn’t mean to ‘cause we got some comms wrong on our end, I’d rather the summit get it fixed.”

“No, not lost.” Sivall answered, following up with a soft chuckle. “No, on a search for something that I heard might be here. A book on Wookiee medical practices, if you could believe that exists. I certainly did. But alas it was just a rumor, so it seems I came out here in vain.”

The Chiss let out a quiet sigh of defeat as she swirled the wine in her glass. In hindsight it sounded a little silly that she would find such an item here. “I was also here in search of someone. When I was recruited to the clan, I was not in the best of sorts. I had heard that the man who found me could be found in this area.”

( <@236356564125089792> )

Thick, scar-broken brows went up. “Wookiee medical practices? I mean, sure, they got books. Bogan, if we’d got you around a few weeks ago, woulda been set. Just had the Clan at Kashyyyk for a thing. If you’re not finding what you want out here, we can put in a word with some contacts there. And there’s a lot of people in the Clan that are incredible healers and doctors. They might be able to tell you something. I can set up some stuff if you want.” As he spoke, he turned to look around the room, as if an examination would reveal her recruiter to him. “Your dossier didn’t have a recruiter listed, and we don’t have anyone deployed out here right now. At least, nobody I know of, so nobody the summit means to be out right now. What was their name? I can help you look.” And figure out who the hell is AWOL or impersonating an Arconan.

Alexandyr sighed, he knew there was no comfortable way to even try to explain this whole mess of a situation to the Proconsul immediately after calling him an idiot. So, he extricated himself from the situation. He rose to his feet and made his way to the far end of the bar, away from Ruka and Sivall ( <@264959101384130560> ) where he paid out his tab and gave a small nod to Vez ( <@371402534973341696> ) before he attempted to casually make his way out of The Mortuary entirely.

Maybe the calamity down the Hangar Bay would work to his advantage, with everyone shuffling around and folks having jostled around to make way. Probably not, Ruka, for as exasperated as he was had been incredibly sharp, and Sivall had a quick wit too.

If he was lucky enough to get past them, without incident, Alexandyr would make his way towards the Casino.

Excitement and anticipation bubbled in the young Sith at Kadrol’s suggestion, like a volcano ready to erupt. “I didn’t take you for someone looking for a fight,” Ellac said, smirking as he felt the sudden battle-hunger rise in his throat. His lone eye narrowed slightly, reaching out with the Force to sense the Savant’s deeper strength and connection. “Let’s do it.”

Kandria sensed the tension in Force around the two men before her, their silhouettes seeming to glow as they both fortified themselves. She could feel Ellac’s anger seething, drawing on the Dark Side to strengthen himself. Kadrol seemed more at peace, but there was still an excitement that hid beneath the surface; A passion that fueled him and gave him energy. “Are you sure about this, El?” She asked, but it wasn’t really a question. She knew Ellac’s resolve. This was what he wanted.

Ellac looked at her as he turned to leave the Mortuary, nodding in response to her empty question. “When have you known me to walk away from a fight?” His green eye flashed with an orange tint as he made his way to the door. “Who knows, maybe he’ll get one of my other limbs,” he laughed. “Kadrol, where did you want to do this?”

“I think I saw an alleyway back the other side by the docks.” Kadrol responded as the trio walked down the Promenade, with Tenz following along as well. The Pantoran ran through scenarios in his head, reflecting on his training on Dantooine where he learned to dual-wield, as well as to all of the long training sessions with either of his three former masters.

When the group reached a nearby alleyway, they turned down it, finding it void of any beings. The two duelists walked further into the alley, while Kandria and Tenz took position nearer the entrance. After Kadrol had readied himself, he laid down rules in order to protect his own well-being. You can never be certain with a Sith. Kadrol thought. “So Ellac, can we agree that there will be no killing, no dismemberment or disfiguring, and no destruction of property, either personal or to the station itself?”

Knowing that this duel would take place even if the Sith didn’t agree to the terms, Kadrol, released both lightsabers from his belt simultaneously and ignited them, the gold and purple blades illuminating the dark alley.

Ellac drew his primary saber from its clip, gripping it tightly. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” He teased, igniting the blood-red blade, bathing his side of the alley in its light. “I agree. No need to anger our hosts, and I’d like to avoid getting chewed out by the rest of the Clan. That said, this is still a sparring match, and I don’t think either of us will gain anything if we don’t give everything we’ve got. I’ll stay inside the limits of your parameters, but everything else is free game.”

Ellac dead-sprinted straight at his clan mate, keeping the tip of his blade low to the ground. A flash of white burst out from the collision of the two combatants’ lightsabers, Ellac and Kadrol now face to face, peering at each other through their locked blades. The two men pushed against each other, struggling to gain the higher position over the other.

Kadrol’s twisted his shoto up and over Ellac’s sideways strike, the golden blade descending directly at the Knight’s head. Anticipating the counter attack, the Sith took a diagonal step back, dodging the blow, then spinning around with another sideways blow. His blade bouncing off Kadrol’s again, Ellac twisted back around, stepping onto a nearby crate and launching himself at the Sentinel. Blades crashed and flashed, the two men weaving their lightsabers in a flurry of red, gold, and purple as Ellac drove Kadrol deeper into the alley.

“You know what you’re doing,” Ellac chuckled, nodding to the Pantoran as he viciously threw himself at his opponent, Kadrol deflecting or redirecting each of the Sith’s strikes with the deadly precision of years of rigorous training.

Zxyl folded his arms across his chest, watching for Korvis’ - and his guards’ - reaction at the crate of armor. The Regent wasn’t sure how his fellow Taldrya and idiotic brother had managed to make it to Sundari Station when they were aiming for the Caelus System, but they did, and now they were here.

The Dathomirian-Mandalorian thought it was unlikely to change the situation much, but perhaps the MandoBro would be just a tad lenient with the Taldryan Consul given they were giving something that was absolutely owed to Clan Vizsla. Still, Zxyl couldn’t help but think that one day Wight’s love for his brother, however strong, was eventually going to lead to his downfall.

<@583854106599489557>

“I should hope so, I’ve been doing this a while,” Kadrol said as he sat back on his heels, fully content on letting the Sith tire himself out with pointless attacks, only to be deflected by either of Kadrol’s blades. Kadrol retreated back further into the alley, analyzing the patterns in Ellac’s form. After what seemed like minutes of constant parrying, Kadrol spotted a weakness. When Ellac made his next step forward, Kadrol crossed his two blades and pushed as hard as he could against the crimson blade of Ellac’s lightsaber. While the two men were of equal strength, Kadrol’s extra leverage proved handy in forcing the Sith to lose his footing.

Ellac stumbled backwards, losing his balance as he tipped onto his back, his weapon clattering off to the side as it deactivated…

The Sith’s eye went wide as he stared up at the high ceiling of the station above the alley… And then he started to laugh. His chuckle grew into a belting upheaval as he laid against the cold durasteel floor, until it finally subsided a few moments later.

Attempting to compose himself, Ellac pushed himself to his feet, a grin spread across his face. “A solid defense… but you shouldn’t have done that.” Summoning his hilt to his hand once again, he slipped the second saber from his belt as he drew a deep breath, savoring the humiliation and anger that welled within him with invigorated focus.

“Here we go,” Kandria murmured under her breath, watching her companion give himself to his emotions.

A searing hiss rang out from his lightsabers as the red blades sprung to life in unison. The Knight surged forward, launching at Kadrol with ferocious power. Ever ready, the Sentinel tracked Ellac’s movements, narrowly dodging one of his thrusting blades as he brought his own around to counter.

Ellac allowed his momentum to throw him forward, ducking Kadrol’s blade as he tucked into a roll past him. Spinning on his heel the moment his foot touched the ground, Ellac launched again into an all-out assault, refusing to give his opponent the smallest fragment of time to think. If he could not overpower Kadrol’s skill, then he’d change the game, forcing him to rely on instinct and muscle memory. His crimson blades created a funnel around the Savant, his attacks getting heavier and faster with every swing, until Kadrol’s eyes couldn’t keep up.

Kadrol knew his opponent would tire quickly. Even someone with endurance like a wolf wouldn’t be able to maintain this level of athleticism for so long. The Pantoran’s blue eyes focused on Ellac’s core rather than the blades themselves as he recalled Kylex’s teachings. You may think an opponent’s speed could be so overwhelming as to deceive you, but their hips cannot lie. Ellac’s swings, no matter how fast or chaotic they were, would always be telegraphed by the movement in his hips.

The Savant’s knowledge of combat movements, in conjunction with the Force giving him warnings, allowed him to continue to parry would-be kill shots from the red blades, albeit with a now more elevated heart rate. Kadrol had expected the Sith to tire more easily, but as he parried more and more, the more it seemed like an end was not yet in sight. “I see you anger easily, my friend,” Kadrol said between breaths, “You know, I was the same as you, once, Full of hatred.”

It would have been easy for Kadrol to lop off almost any of Ellac’s limbs right now, especially since the Sith was focused less on self-preservation and more on murdering his new acquaintance. However, there was no honor in that end, doubly so since he was the one who proposed the rule. It was time to end this. The Pantoran thought.

With a thrust of his arm, Kadrol yeeted Ellac several meters, sending the Sith ragdolling across the pavement and his sabers scattering along the ground. “You know, maybe a bit of inner peace could do you well, my friend.” Kadrol lightly taunted.

The name of the man who found her? The Chiss drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows furrowing in concentration. Had her rescuer ever mentioned their name to her? So much of those few days was a blur, her body running on adrenaline and spite. “Alexsandyr, I believe, was their given name. I don’t remember anything further than that… apologies.” Sivall placed her glass down on the counter top, setting her hands to rest in her lap.

The man from the table was beginning to leave and Sivall felt a sense of urgency rise in her. Would she stop him? He seemed so familiar… She hesitated a moment before pulling herself up from her chair. “S-Sir!” She called out to the human ( <@236356564125089792> ) making his way out of the bar. “Do you have a moment?”

He heard his name just before the hydraulics of the doors hissed. The human slumped his shoulders and sucked the cold, metallic, recycled air between his teeth. Emerald eyes looked over his shoulder to the Chiss woman, then to Ruka, before he looked back out into the promenade.

“E chu ta.” Alexandyr cursed the consequences of his own actions.

Even more, he cursed himself for being so carefree through the years. He turned to face the pair in earnest.

“Alex, just call me Alex, please.” He replied as he looked Sivall in her eyes. “Are you enjoying your new job?” He asked sheepishly.

41 ABY Zsoldos system Sundari Station

Aboard the Nocte Drakon

“What are we doing in Vizsla territory?” Tahiri rubbed the bridge of her nose, as she looked between her brother and the holo map in front of him. “You know the history of Plagueis and Vizsla. Right?”

“Yes I know Hiri. But that is why we’re here. Also the fact, I heard of a great bar that’s on this station,” gently grasping her hand in his, he stood up and hugged her. “And you need some time to relax from everything that has happened over the past few months, and enjoy some time away from Aliso,”

With a somewhat heavy sigh, she returned Ro-Tahn’s hug. “Well, I suppose it wouldn’t look right to get there and then just turn around.” She looked out the window of her Star Courier ship, as the Sundari Station came into view.

“Hmmm?” Ro-Tahn looked towards the lift that opened as a BB unit rolled out. Rolling right into his shin, the little droid let out a series of beeps, boops, and whistles. “Ow, why’d ya do that Dunga? I can hear you just fine, you little pest. You don’t have to run into me, is your ocular sensers messed?” the low growl warned the droid, who rolled out of the way of what would have been a well aimed kick.

Tahiri giggled as she shook her head, “You two are quite the pair. What did Dunga say?”

Rubbing his shin and glaring at his droid, Ro-Tahn chuckled, “Dunga said that we will be landing momentarily.”

“Oh good, I’ll go finish getting ready then,” as Tahiri headed to her private quarters. “I’ll meet you on ramp when we land.”

Sundari hanger

The Sith Adept smoothed her robes before patting the head of her Vornskr, Zuska, standing next to her. Sighing, she tapped her foot as she awaited her little brother to disembark the ship. What is taking him so long? As if in answer to her question, a string of Togrutan curses, along with a series of shrill whistles and beeps, as Dunga came speedily rolling down the ramp. Ro-Tahn came huffing down a moment later.

“Hehe, did Dunga run over your foot again?” raising an eyebrow as she chuckled.

“No, he insulted my style,” taking a deep breath and smoothing his own attire, he offered an arm to Tahiri. “Well sister, let’s see if we can’t find the bar and enjoy some drinks and relax.”

“Well, this Protocol droid was sent to escort visitors of the station, so we won’t have to ask for any directions,” Tahiri smiled as she took her brothers arm.

“Oh perfect, well then droid, lead the way to ‘The Mortuary’!”

After following the droid to the entrance of the acclaimed bar, it took its leave to greet other travelers. Tahiri took a deep breath, her eyes darting between the two Gammorean guards, before Ro-Tahn eagerly pulled her into the din of activity within the bar itself, followed closely by the Vornskr and BB unit.

Inspecting the Beskar armor alongside Zxyl, Korvis gave it his approval. He motioned for one of the guards to take it to the armory where it would be given to the mostly recovered guard.

“One debt is paid, Now we must make an accord on the insult to both the Regent and Myself. The Creed demands it.” the voice of Korvis went hard as he invoked the creed stressing it’s importance.

<@837236610684813342> <@260640060775464960>

Ellac tumbled toward the entrance of the alleyway, rolling to a stop near Kandria and Tenz. His arms and legs absorbed the impact of his skid across the ground, protecting his head and most of his core from any serious damage.

He pushed himself to his feet once more, the grin on his face deserting him as it was replaced by his boiling rage. Ellac reached his hands out, recalling his hilts with the Force as he crouched low, his knees readying to spring forward again. “I may just decide to break your rules, after all!” His vision had started to fade along the edges of his sight, a bordering black fringe that began to slowly engulf everything he could see. “Let me show you hatred!” he yelled, his blades snapping to life one after another.

The air crackled around the Knight, lightning sparking from his arm as he charged the Force into a violent burst of blue arcs aimed at Kadrol.

The Savant raised his lightsaber, the electricity latching onto the weapon’s containment field. “I’m starting to think you have a death wish,” Kadrol said, lowering his blade as the lightning dissipated. “Stop this, before one of us does something we’ll regret.”

Ellac raised his offhanded lightsaber over his shoulder, winding back before hurling it at the young Pantoran. The Dark Side surged coursed through his body, augmenting the strength in his legs, giving him unbelievable speed and power.

Before his blade could even make it to its target, the Sith leapt at and over Kadrol’s head in a twirling arc through the air, slashing down at him with the same augmented speed. Kadrol could feel the heat from the red blade as he barely managed to tilt his head out of its path, but quickly had to rebound, trying to raise his purple blade to deflect the lightsaber racing towards him. Ellac’s blade slammed into Kadrol’s, sending both flying off to the side as the Savant lost his grip on his hilt.

Appius was about to retort. Korvis and his damn pride. He couldn’t let anything go, could he? Yet, he was stopped when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.

“Darrio?”

Darrio shook his head. “Whatever happens, don’t interfere. You know the Creed.”

“Yeah, but…”

“No buts,” Darrio silenced him. “You’ve done enough. I’m your older brother. I appreciate what you did just now. I owe you one.”

Without another word he moved forward towards Korvis. All blasters were primed and ready to gun down Darrio if the order was given. Before he reached Korvis, he stopped beside Zxyl and spoke at a volume only they could hear.

“Say what you want about Appius. I know I do, but at least he doesn’t walk around the Caelus System swinging his authority around like he’s trying to compensate for something.” He motioned towards Korvis, then looked back at Zxyl. “You clearly made your choice about who’s side you’re on, who you value more of your Mandabros. Don’t think less of others because of it. Dont think less of him.”

He left Zxyl and walked up to Korvis. He took his helmet off and held it at his side.

“I am Darrio Klars, former Alor to Clan Klars of Mandalore. I have wronged you, and from one leader to another, I apologise. May i inquire to the welfare of the guard that was injured in my last visit here? I trust he is making a recovery.”

Appius’ jaw could have hit the floor. Darrio was… apologising? The way he spoke… it had really been a long time since he’d heard Darrio speak like that. Authority, and respect.

He just hoped Korvis saw it that way.

Probably not.

Ellac landed in a low crouch to the ground, lightsaber outstretched to the side. “I think you forget what you’re dealing with… Peace is a lie.” Lifting his head, the Sith’s now fully yellow eye locked onto his foe, his vision totally veiled in the darkness as his rage consumed him.

“The Creed supercedes all,” was Zxyl’s only retort to Darrio. Zxyl knew where his loyalties lay. It wasn’t to any clan - or man - even if he had been named a Son of Taldryan several years prior. It was a token, that was it.

Darrio’s loyalties did not lie with the Creed, and that’s just how Bes'uliik saw it. In his eyes, the Regent hadn’t chosen other Mandalorian over Appius. Just as he hadn’t chosen Appius over any other Mandalorian. But he did believe in honor, which Darrio had none and Appius almost threw out the window for his brother. Zxyl motioned for Appius to follow him - back to The Mortuary and leave his brother to his fate. He gave Korvis a nod on the way by.

Appius looked to Zxyl, then Darrio who gave him a curt nod. He had to trust him. He followed Zxyl.

Kadrol sensed that this may be his chance. Kadrol knew plain as day that Ellac’s off-hand would be no match for his dominant one. Kadrol took a powerful step forward, and leaned into his dark past, bringing his violet blade down on Ellac. Ellac scrambled to block the blow. Kadrol did not relent in his flurry of attacks on Ellac’s blade, a loud crack emanating from the lightsabers every time they came together thanks in part due to the Cristophsis crystal in Kadrol’s lightsaber. The extra power of the crystal proved useful in turning over the wrist of Ellac’s left hand, as Kadrol continued to bring his blade down upon his opponent. The Sith refused for as long as possible to be disarmed, but eventually, it proved too much for Ellac and the crimson blade was pried from his hand.

Ellac, knowing he was bested, collapsed to his knees in defeat, exhausted. “Do you yield?” Kadrol demanded to know, pointing his lightsaber at his opponent’s sternum.

Ellac looked up the length of the saber. “I do yield.” he said with a sigh.

With that, Kadrol deactivated his saber and outstretched his arm to help his clanmate up. Whether or not he’d take that offer up was a different story, however.

Ellac looked up at Kadrol offering his hand, the aggression leaving the Pantoran’s eyes. A small chuckle escaped from the kneeling Knight. “Well fought.” Ellac accepted Kadrol’s aid, struggling to rise to his feet after the rage had ebbed from him, taking the rest of his energy with it.

Kandria walked up behind the two Imperials, tucking herself under Ellac’s shoulder to help him stay upright. “You two are both idiots, you know that, right?,” she said with a small smirk.

“You can learn a lot about someone by the way they fight,” Kadrol smiled, looking to Ellac. “Thank you for indulging me.”

“Anytime. I’m always up for a good fight. But you won’t always be able to beat me,” Ellac jabbed, leaning against Kandria’s support as they made their way back out of the alley.

“Maybe. Maybe not. Only time will tell, my friend, only time…” Kadrol waved at Tenz to follow them. “But until then, how about a drink back at the Mortuary?”

Ellac shook his head, opening his mouth to reply, but Kandria cut him off. “That sounds like a great idea. We’d love to.”

The Knight sighed, accepting his second defeat. “Lead on.”

As the group strolled back down the Promenade, Kadrol decided to strike up a conversation. He did not know how willing the others were to hear them out, but it was his chief cause and he had to at least try.

“The Sith are a gruesome lot, you two,” Kadrol started, “I know you know it as well.” The Pantoran glanced up and down at Ellac’s severely disfigured body. “Now, I do not know your reasons or your creeds, but I have learned over the years that a life steeped in hatred and pain is no life at all. I hope that the Force guides you to this conclusion as well and you forge your own path.”

Zxyl and Appius made their way back through Sundari Station through normal methods, unlike the route the Regent and Vizslan Consul had used to reach the hangar in the first place, entering the establishment and immediately making for a table out of the way where the two could talk mostly undisturbed. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian and his Taldrya brother each ordered themselves a drink, with Appius clearly distracted by what must be going on back in the hangar with his brother.

“Whatever happens, happens, Appius. Don’t fret about it. The Creed is not meant to be a punishment, but your brother does have to atone. Korvis can be a hardass, but we both know he too adheres to the Creed and can be fair when he wants to be.”

<@837236610684813342>

Staring into the eyes of Darrio it was nearly impossible to tell if he was sincere. The man had spent years throwing up fronts and bluffing his way out of trouble. Still, even though Korvis genuinely disliked the man, he at least respected Appius. “You are a man who wears our Armor, but you do not deserve to do so. You follow no creed, not even your own. In years past you would have been labeled Dar'manda, and rightly so.”

“The guard is nearing recovery, and I have bound him by oath to not seek his revenge. Now, if you truly wish to atone. Remove your armor and your weapons. YOU will stay aboard the skyhopper until Appius is ready to leave. Should you attempt to leave you will be shot and this time they will not be set to stun.”

Ellac’s lone eye fell into a glare as Kadrol spoke, pushing Kandria out from under him as he leaned on his own legs. “That’s where you’re wrong… I am living, and I’m already forging my own path… Or do you think that this just happens to people?’” He said, tilting his head to emphasize his scarred face and holding his cybernetic arm up. “I’ve seen horror’s that would shatter any normal man, and I’ve known pain that men twice as strong as you could not handle, and I’m. Still. Here. You’ve come too late to tell me that what you see before you isn’t living, because if I had left it up to the Force, I would’ve been dead a long time ago… So the Force has no say in deciding my future, nor does it get to guide me like some kind of animal… My destiny is my own.” The Knight’s voice was low and intense, but he wasn’t shouting. His green eye had locked onto Kadrol, adamant and unflinching. “You know nothing of hatred, and you will find that it’s in your best interest not to become the object of mine.”

Ellac finally turned away, continuing on down the path back to the Mortuary. “You and I belong to the same clan, and I have no cause to hate you… So don’t give me a reason to.” He said, walking ahead of the group.

Kadrol had never met a Sith so angsty as Ellac, though perhaps he should have expected it. The Pantoran looked over at Kandria, expecting her to do something about her temperamental companion, but she kept her pace beside him instead.

“You know, I sense the good in you Kandria, and Ellac too. Forgive me, but I’ve never met a Sith who’s wanted to be friendly with someone they consider to be other than themselves. You can imagine how shattering that might be then, to meet you two and have you be friendly with me. That is why I’ve approached this topic.” Kadrol explained.

“Like Ellac said, you’re mistaken. You don’t know the things he’s been through.” Kandria’s usual easygoing expression had become stoic and serious. “Everyone suffers, yes, that’s the way of life. But for him… It’s all he’s ever known, and he’s stronger because of it. He has had to fight his entire life to get to where he is, and it’s cost him. But when life beats him down, he gets up and fights back until he wins.” The continued two walk a ways behind Ellac, following him back to the bar.

Kadrol looked over at Kandria as she seemed to look straight ahead. “And what about you?”

“I’ve have my own reasons, but I’ve learned that life is rarely forgiving, so it’s kill or be killed. I used to just be a survivor, but Ellac has shown me what it means to take control of your life… To decide for yourself where your future will lead, and I’m better for it.” Kandria turned to meet the Pantoran’s gaze. “So don’t mistake my apparent lack of hostility or his tolerance toward you as a sign of goodness. You are a colleague in the Empire, but you’re also a preachy kid who isn’t worth the trouble we’d face for needless bloodshed. Fighting you would be a waste of time and energy,” Kandria said, connecting with the Force around Kadrol, studying his reaction to her response.

“I know, I know,” Appius took a swig of his drink. “Darrio has… a complicated history. We both do. It’s weird, and it might be hard to believe, but he used to be a lot better. I saw a part of the old him down in the hangar when he apologised to Korvis. It’s a long story, but I can tell you if you like?”

Darrio grit his teeth together. He did follow the Creed, though granted, he hadn’t been following it as well as he could have been, or as well as he used to.

He took a deep breath. “Very well. Is there at least somewhere more private I can take these off? Some of my armor and weapons can be a bit… temperamental and sensitive. I’m sure you remember from last time.”

He couldn’t tell what, but something in that answer angered Kadrol to his core. “And you know nothing about me! You know nothing about what I’ve been through!” Kadrol said, raising his voice. “This world may be one that’s either kill or be killed, but do you notice how it’s only the ones doing the killing who say that? Do you not think there might be some reason for that?”

When the Pantoran looked up once again, he saw that Kandria looked taken aback by his words. Even Ellac had turned around to see what was going on. He had been shaking with rage. Kadrol took a breath and released the tension from his body. “My apologies. I should not have raised my voice.”

“You may, but remember my patience is already being tested. Do not let it run out.”

Kandria looked over at Ellac and then back to the Pantoran, brows lifted at Kadrol’s sudden outburst. “You’re right, we don’t know you, but the difference between us is that we never claimed to.” Her dispersed her weight evenly on both of her legs, standing squarely in front of the Sentinel. “If you feel so strongly about your statement, then make your move and prove our point. Show us just how wrong we are by lashing out.”

Kadrol looked at the woman’s face, forcing himself to retain his composure. Inside he was burning with anger.

Ellac halted, looking back to see the Savant restraining himself. “Sounds like some inner peace might do you good”, the Sith said curtly, throwing Kadrol’s words back on him.

Kadrol’s breathing became unsteady as he struggled to suppress his rising anger. “You will not get not a rise out of me, Sith. Unlike you, I learn from my mistakes.”

A small smirk curled the edge of Ellac’s mouth at the Kadrol’s jab. “Is that what you call it?” The Knight had completely turned around now, but hadn’t moved from his place ahead of the others. “You’re right, it is always the killers using that phrase. Do you want to know why it’s us? Because we’re the one’s who had to make a choice. And we’re the one’s who survived.”

“You only prove my point,” Kadrol said, turning to look Ellac in the eye. “You’re perpetuating the cycle. You cause history to repeat itself, killing each other off, and for what? There are other ways.”

Kandria looked over at Ellac, sensing his anger returning.

“There are ‘other ways’?” Ellac’s tone was sharp as he began to raise his voice. “When you’re father has his hands wrapped around your mother’s neck, and you hear a snap before her lifeless body crumples to the floor, tell me Kadrol, what other ways will you find when those same hands reach for your own throat?” His voice echoed around the corridor as he shouted from the depths of his chest, his anger uncontainable. “Answer me!”

Alexander?

He didn’t know a single Alexander on the Clan roster, and he had that kark memorized and tapped on the inside of one cabinet at home, added to with whatever color of glitter gel pen Cora or Leda handed him that day for editing. His suspicion rose. Who was her so-called recruiter?

“Ay, no worries, you don’t gotta apologize,” he began to assure, tones soft, before Sivall was jumping out of her chair and waving at…

The man who’d just been heckling him and Vez for twenty minutes straight. Durne. Alexsandyer Durne.

Years ago, Ruka wouldn’t have believed in such coincidences. Experience had taught him better. The Force moved them all as it willed, and they it. And sometimes, while Ashla and Bogan worked in mysterious ways only to be trusted, like his visions, other times…

Destiny was a schutta.

“You two know each other then?” The words were clipped, cool now. A closing trap working its way up to one hell of a lecture. “Come sit down, Alex. I insist. Apparently, you and me do actually have something to talk about. Sivall, you know him from your last job?”“

The Grand Master’s personal ship had arrived and landed at Sundari Station with a contingent of guards left to secure it, much bigger than the last time, although of the owner and not his envoy’s doing. Socorra strode through the hangar clad in whisper quiet and brand spanking new beskar with helmet tucked under an arm. A beautiful shawl was neatly wrapped around her neck and draped to the side, slightly out of place on the Mandalorian iron yet boldly and proudly worn.

Korvis and Darrio didn’t hear so much as see the woman emerge and slow her roll as she curiously watched another one of Darrio’s heart-to-heart ‘conversations’ with the Consul. <@583854106599489557> <@837236610684813342>

“Do you mistake me for a Jedi?” Kadrol rebuked the knight. “Anger and killing are indeed justifiable, and even necessary on occasion, but don’t you think that continuing down that cycle of death instead of doing your damnedest to prevent evil from happening to begin with might be the wrong way of going about things? Would you glass a planet to save a single life? The company you keep sure seems to think so.” Kadrol tried once more to reason with the Sith.

Alexandyr Douve Sundari Station: The Mortuary

Alexandyr sighed again, the defeated air of a man cornered and hung out to dry, his eyes met with those of Ruka and Sivall ( <@264959101384130560> ) as he trenched back to the bar. His focus lingered on Sivall in particular.

“I guess we do, Proconsul, I guess we do. And… I wouldn’t call it a job.” The man responded, as he found a seat, placing Sivall between them.

Suddenly, the tone of the entire situation changed when Ruka ( <@244244163002892288> ) turned to look at who she was calling out to, and the Chiss woman felt her stomach turn with anxiety. Sivall gripped gently at her pants, drawing her her lip between her teeth once more as she seated herself back in her spot.

Within a heartbeat she was six again and her owners were yelling at her, pinned up against the wall of their home on Coruscant, berated with words like stones. Why this situation called back that memory was beyond her. Sivall stiffened visibly as Alex ( <@236356564125089792> ) sat beside her. This wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to thank him, not get him punished.

“A-ah, well, y-yes. Alexsandyr helped me when I was struggling by giving me a job and a place to stay, then passing me on to the Brotherhood.” The blue-skinned female paused for a moment before continuing, “I-I didn’t mean to get anyone in trouble….” Her original plan and speech she had carefully crafted (and rehearsed many times) was quickly falling apart in front of her. Was there some way to fix this? “W-without… Without Alex’s intervention, I likely would have perished on those streets,” she spoke softly, hoping that by championing for the human’s character would lessen the severity of the situation.

“Buddy, get down! We’re going sublight in a few seconds and I need to see.” Kah’ri said waving his hand at the BD droid on the console’s dash. He was fond of this new ship. ‘The Horizon.’ A grandiose name for a WTK-85A transport and a little on the nose, but it flew well and was comfortable.

BD hopped onto the copilot seat, turning back to watch the blue tunnel outside the forward viewport. “Thanks, bud. Should see the station right about… now” Kah’ri said grabbing the controls again. The Sundari Station and Zsoldos came into view as the transport exited hyperspace.

BD-12 danced in place and turned to Kah’ri beeping curiously. “What? You thought it’d be bigger? This isn’t a trade hub like a Crannix Station. It’s a social location. Drinks, games, and Mandalorians” Kah’ri said, feigning surprise with the last word. The droid cooed in awe at the prospect of seeing a real Mandalorian.

Kah’ri pointed toward a terminal before depressing a button on the coms. “Sundari Station, this is WTK shuttle 140-T requesting permission to land.” BD-12 took note of Kah’ri’s gesture, plugging into the socket to transmit clearance codes.

“WTK-140-T. Receiving your clearance codes now. Proceed to landing bay Dorn. Welcome to Sundari Station.”

The Horizon hovered into the landing bay, gently touching its floor.

“Okay, bud. Ready?” Kah’ri said. “Show me our contact again.”

The BD chirped as he faced the Mystic and projected a map of the station displaying public locations with an orange marker in the local bar.

“Cool! Drinks come first this time. That’s a rarity.” He smirked to himself.

Kah’ri stood to exit the ship and BD-12 climbed onto his back. Walking down the ramp, he was greeted by a protocol droid. It began its greeting, stammering as Kah’ri passed by seemingly ignoring its existence. Anyone watching his route to the cantina could have mistaken him for a previous visitor, but this was, in fact, his first time in Mandalorian territory so close to their headquarters.

Kah’ri nodded to the Gammoreans guarding the door, stepping inside the bar.

Vi'i “V.T.” Temm Aboard the Heavy Metal Queen: Zsoldos System, Approaching Sundari Station

Herglic Rage-Metal blasted through the interior speakers of the Crimson-Splashed GX-1 Short-Hauler, reverberating the interior halls much to the delight of V.T. as he floored the hauler towards his destination. Retrothrusters applied sequentially and eased the Queen as she came to Port. V.T. flipped Comms for the Station, the music only lowered to a tolerable standard, and spoke.

“This is V.T. piloting the GX-1 ‘Heavy Metal Queen’ rolling heavy with enough liquor to drown a… I’ll let that one linger. Transmitting IFR now.” The hauler called before he dropped comms and waited for the response.

Another vessel roared in from hyperspace just above the Port Quarter of the Heavy Metal Queen and pulled alongside her. Moments later the Station responded.

“QX-1 ‘Heavy Metal Queen’, this is Sundari Station. WTK-140-T ( <@248607477015379987> ) is coming in on your Port, they’re given priority clearance to land. Follow them in and proceed to Landing Bay Esk.” Came the calculated response.

“Always some scob, flying the same vectors.” V.T. shouted as he shored the Queen towards LB-Esk and applied more retrothrust to brake behind Kah'ri’s vessel.

Once down to Port he drew on his antiox mask and visor running fingers along the intricate carvings on the mask’s surface, before equalizing the ship’s environ with that of the Station, and went to meet the dock master to verify cargo manifest for unload.

“Sure, we got time.”

“Did you know he was the youngest leader in our Clan’s history?” Appius waited a response, and when Zxyl motioned for him to cont,he did so. “He was nineteen years old. Nineteen. Frakk, I don’t know what you were doing at nineteen, Zxyl, but I was running for my life across the galaxy, not leading a Clan.”

Appius took a swig of his drink. “Sorry, i got a bit sidetracked. I was so proud of him. We all were, especially our father. He knew how much it meant to him, and then… do you remember when I left Taldryan?”

It took Darrio only a few minutes to get changed in relative privacy. He stood before Korvis in a brown undershirt and trousers. No weapons, and no armor, though he took notice of the new arrival.

Who did she seem so familiar?

<@583854106599489557>

Taking Darrio’s armor and weapons Korvis placed them in a waiting lock box. The lockbox was held up by repulsors and floated a few feet off the ground. Shutting the lid Korvis set the lock and gave some final instructions to the guards.

“I will send food and a drink. Remember stay inside the Skyhopper.” Korvis replied before heading back to his private lift.

Back in the promenade with the armor and weapons in tow Korvis made his way to The Mortuary. Inside he found Appius and Zxyl in conversation. Not wanting to interrupt, but feeling the matter was pressing Korvis approached them and stood at the end of the table.

“Darrio’s weapons and armor,” he said motioning to the lockbox, “And before you say anything he is alive and mostly well, Appius.”

Turning to the Regent he added. “As my guest you have been insulted. The Creed demands I make that right. Darrio’s weapons and armor are now yours to do as you see fit. I hope that will suffice to make amends on my part. I will send the lock combination to you.”

<@260640060775464960> <@837236610684813342>

Bes'uliik turned his head to face Appius for the briefest of moments, and then back to the Vizslan Consul.

“The fault is not yours, Korvis. Thank you. I will decide what to do with them after I’ve had a couple drinks. Do you care to join us?” the Regent asked, motioning to an open chair at the table. He nodded to Appius, “Carry on. I’m interested to learn more.”

Socorra watched curiously but her lone arctic eye lost focus for a moment while Darrio went to change. Her mind reached out across the station like dark tendrils, flitting from person to person, and hunting for information in its various forms. She could do that now, so much easier, farther, and faster than before. Thousands of thoughts passing in and through her consciousness, some louder than others, some shouting in the nearby corridor even. Quiet mental intrusions sometimes desired as it was highly useful for intelligence, if the thousands of thought streams didn’t drive her mad. But it was worth it, it kept the boss happy while she did the other hundred things and brokering still paid well; diapers alone were sending her into bankruptcy.

Her eye snapped back when Darrio returned, and now she stared. Socorra had never seen the man out of his armor - he might as well be naked. On the flip side, he’d never seen the woman in armor, she might as well be someone else entirely.

Clearly he had violated the banishment but he wasn’t dead…yet.

“Is that your crashed ship back there? You left your lights on.”

“Feel free, Korvis. The more the merrier. I appreciate you not causing him any physical harm,” Appius said. “I hope he was co-operative?”

Appius cleared his throat. “So, Zxyl. The day it happened, then. I was doing some work for Ektrosis when I got a distress signal, an S.O.S from my Clan. I’ll cut a long story short, I reconnected with Darrio after Lyra Colony. I said I’d be there if they ever needed me. So, I packed up my things, told you and Erin, and left. When I got there…”

Appius’ grip tightened on his drink. “Everything burned. Everything was gone. I was too late. An entire Clan of people and warriors. People who I’d grown up with, called brothers and sisters were nothing but charred ash in front of me. Do you know what the worst part was? He was alive. Darrio was alive, and I didn’t see him. He called out to me, and I didn’t hear him. He lay there in the dirt, reaching out to me, and he might as well had been dead with the rest of them. I was so consumed with hate and grief I didn’t see the one person who needed me most. Its my fault he became what he is.”

The glass in Appius’ hand shattered as the Force subconsciously powered him. Liquid poured onto the table.

“Kark. Sorry, Korvis. I’ll pay for that glass…”

“Don’t bother, if that is the only thing broken in here tonight it will be a miracle.”

“Interesting,” noted Zxyl as he placed both hands together and rested the chin of his helmet on them, debating Appius’ story carefully.

“It seems - aside from Clan Klars burning, that is - it all worked out in the end however. You two were reunited, in the Brotherhood no less. One thing is for certain though; you are not responsible for his actions or how he conducts himself. He is, and I believe he needs a good hard think about the man - or Mandalorian - he wants to be, if he’s going to earn back his beskar'gam from me. A simple apology is not going to do it.”

Zxyl disconnected the airlines running from his shoulder to his helmet, unsealing his helmet and placing it on the table as he ordered a drink for the three of them and waited for it to arrive. Pulling Duraanir from his belt, he set the newly constructed tri-mode Elder lightsaber on the table.

“You know… This was the first time I had actually used this. Months spent working on it, perfecting it, and the first time I activate it is to strike at one of my closest friends. The Creed supercedes all, even blood or relationships. It - and the honor that binds its followers - is what makes us Mandalorian, instead of common thugs. I haven’t quite determined what Darrio is going to have to do, but I know the trials he will undertake will determine whether he is still a true Mandalorian.”

When the Regent’s drink finally arrived, he took a large swig and set the glass gently back on the table, gauging Appius’ reaction to his words.

<@837236610684813342> <@583854106599489557>

Kah’ri looked around the cantina taking inventory of its occupants. “I don’t see him, Beedee.” He said “but I guess you’re not supposed to see someone with his skills.”

Kah’ri moved to the bar and placed some imperial credits down. “One black fizzer, please.”

“Good choice.” Lo’rance’s voice came from down the bar as he held up his own Black Fizzer in a toast to the newcomer.

“And how exactly do you suggest one should prevent evil, hmm? By asking nicely?” Ellac looked coldly upon the man, his lone eye shifting from green to yellow, seething with contempt. “Or, since you say that killing can be justified, who determines when it is or isn’t right to take a life? Who chooses when someone gets to play executioner? You?,” He said as he began walking towards Kadrol. “I’ve seen you draw on the Dark Side to find strength, to find power, in order to defeat your enemy, so what makes you any different than a Sith?”

Ellac unclipped his lightsaber from his belt, taking the hilt in his palm as he approached the man. “You can cover it up with whatever lie you’d like to tell yourself, but there remains one basic truth in this galaxy: There are those with power, and those without it. The powerful will always stand above the weak because they have the strength and the will to overcome the obstacles in their path, and the weak can do nothing but serve as their stepping stones. So, which are you?” Ellac lifted his hand, offering the hilt to Kadrol. “Tear down the obstacles in your path. Take it and strike me down, if you can.”

“I hear you,” Appius gave a nod. “The Creed is what binds us together, makes us what we are. Darrio and I are… attatched to each other, I guess? We’re all that remains of our Clan. Once we die, that’s it for Klars.”

Appius took note of Zxyl’s weapon. “That’s a fine hilt, mind if I take a look?”

Zxyl slid it along the table to his fellow Mandalorian.

Darrio rolled his eyes. “Blame my vod for not being able to pilot a ship properly…”

Darrio felt the prod of a Blaster Rifle in his back from the Deathwatch guard.

Appius held it in one hand, whilst retrieving one of his own weapons with the other, comparing the two side-by-side. Zxyl really was a master craftsman. Appius gave a whistle of approval.

“Very nice,” he suddenly noticed one particular detail, one different from the compositionof his own weapon. “It’s made from beskar, isn’t it?”

“Mm. Naked all because of ‘vod too, ay.” The woman kept marching on by if that was all he had to say. “Many more guards on my ride this time, good luck stealing it twice.”

The Regent nodded, retrieving Duraniir from Appius and restoring it to its place on his belt. He ordered a second round for the three Mandalorians, finishing his first drink pretty quickly.

“Do you expect anything less from me? Every minute I spend not working for the Brotherhood, on a hunt, or sleeping is usually spent in my forge. It’s the one place I can truly decompress. In fact, I’m currently working on blueprints to reforge my new WESTARs with beskar as well, and have some improvements planned once I leave here.”

“I have a proposition for you,” Zxyl started, as he pointed a finger from the hand holding his glass towards Appius, before motioning to the secured crate floating beside the table, “I will return your brother’s equipment to him, but on my own terms. He will be my temporary ward, and undertake several missions with and for me to re-earn his armor and prove he is truly a Mandalorian and adherent to our_Mandalorian Creed_. If he succeeds in each trial, I will return a piece of his beskar'gam to him. If he fails.. then he is not Mandalorian, and has no claim to it. Sounds fair enough to me?”

<@837236610684813342>

As the bartender brought the drinks for Zxyl and Appius, a third glass was sat down on the opposite side of Appius. A pair of furry hands with white clothing visible on their arms came upward and onto the bar to pull it away, with light tinks of ice as it moved.

Kadrol placed his hand tentatively on the weapon, looking the Sith directly into his eyes. No doubt would it be beneficial for Kadrol to take the deadly weapon away from the maniac, though the Pantoran held no intention to kill him. He took hold of the weapon and brought it to his side.

Kadrol looked at his peer for a while, as if contemplating something, and then at last spoke up. “Who decides? Why we do, of course. There are seven basic duties that every honorable man must hold. Truth and promise keeping, making amends, gratitude, mercy, justice, self-improvement, and beneficence. With those duties at your core as guidance, then, and only then, can you be a force for true, righteous change. Killing is indeed justified, but as a means of moral duty and no more.”

Appius mused over Zxyl’s offer for a moment. Darrio was not going to like it, but what he saw down in the hangar… maybe, just maybe, Darrio could find the old him again, instead of the man bitter at the galaxy for what it had done to him. Sure, he had Ellisyn and Sulla, but everyone else?

“Very well. I agree. If possible, I’d like to be kept up to date with his progress. I have a personal interest in this, as you are aware,” Appius said.

Zxyl immediately shifted his entire body when he saw the little furry hands, activating his whistling birds and leveling his oversized full Mandalorian Vambrace forearm gauntlet at whatever eavesdropping creature was attached to them.

He simple nodded at Appius’ request. Bes'uliik could do that, for sure.

<@61385159655559168> <@837236610684813342>

It was indeed an Ewok, but it was in a white shirt and a brown vest with two audio devices in its ears as it stared intently at a datapad with a video of the latest Podracing circuit that had recently begun.

It looked like Teebu but he never dressed like that. Several seats down Zxyl was quick to notice now that he shifted, there were two more together who were watching an Ewok Wrestling League match while talking in Ewokese. In fact…there were quite a few Ewoks present today.

<@837236610684813342> <@260640060775464960>

Zxyl disarmed his vambrace-gauntlet’s whistling bird launcher, returning his left hand to his glass and turning his head to Korvis.

“It appears as though you have a rodent infestation. Shall I terminate?”

<@583854106599489557>

“Kriffing hell, I forgot how weird Viz space was,” Vez muttered to the Duke, side-eyed the Ewoks and the Regent that was conspicuously glaring at them.

Several more wandered in, joining the two that were at the other side of the bar. They welcomed each other in Ewokese, several hugs were given, and waves and variations of “Yub!” were said as Teebu then walked in, in his typical military uniform, followed by two unarmed Ewoks in Death Trooper armor, minus their helmets. One had grey fur, the other pitch black with a dark red scar line straight down the left side of his forehewd, through his left eye, and down his left cheek.

They flanked on both sides of him as the trio went to the larger group, Teebu now speaking in Ewokese as well as the two helmetless Troopers to the group present. One of them cheered emphatically and pointed at the screen, as the next matchup was a chunky sized Ewok against a Jawa.

The group pulled up several tables, enough for all of them to sit and watch the match.

Ro-Tahn had pulled Tahiri all the way up to a far end of the bar, still within sightline of the door. Ordering drinks, he had smiled and whispered for her to relax and enjoy herself. Once their drinks were placed in front of them, Ro-Tahn proceeded to strike up a conversation with the pretty looking Nautolin sitting a barstool away. Tahiri smiled, shaking her head, and then placed a few credits on the bar, turning around to lean against the bar, to watch the door. Her sulfuric yellow eyes darted around, she had already seen several people whom she recognized from clan reports, intel dossiers, and from past meetings. She was somewhat surprised that there were so many different clan members here. This must be like a neutral watering hole for everyone. How interesting.

Seeing the next newcomer to the bar perked her interest the most. It had been a long time since she had seen or even talked with Teebu. Patting Zuska on the head as he sat next her barstool, she took a sip of her drink. Waiting till the group of Ewoks got settled at their tables, she pushed off of the bar and walked over to the seat across from her old clan mate.

“Hello Teebu, it’s been a while,” smiling, she looked around the table and then back at him. “I hope you have been well. May I sit with you and your friends? I’ll buy a round of drinks.”

<@61385159655559168>

Teebu glanced over to Tahiri and gave a soft smile. “Indeed it has been, several years by my count since I fled Plagueis. And indeed you may, how have you been?”

He glanced to the black furred trooper to his left who inmediately stood up and shifted another seat to let Tahiri sit next to him. He looked at the others and spoke in Ewokese, nearly all of the Ewoks in there cheering happily and raising glasses.

<@375384499770359819>

Ellac couldn’t help the jeering laugh that escaped him at Kadrol’s response. “Spoken like a true hypocrite. You take my lightsaber but spout off morality. You can’t have it both ways.” Ellac looked down at his weapon in the Savant’s hand. “There is no righteousness to be found in wielding my blade, or did you forget that not every Kyber crystal bleeds as the one in that hilt does?”

Several of the Ewoks broke out in frustration, one making a mocking sound that was similar to an ‘Utini!’. On the screen, the Jawa had picked up the Ewok and thrown it from the ring and was now chanting about an egg as another Jawa brought a large furry egg up to him.

Teebu let out a slight chuckle, raising his glass to his lips and taking a small drink.

Socorra exited the lift and continued on to the bar, wary of the shouting voices in her ears and her mind. These were not merely drunks, she could see that with her own eye. She slowed her roll, ruby red lips pursed but unemotive as the woman approached the pair outside of the entrance. Their conversation had nothing to do with the newly minted Adept, but everything was the woman’s business; whether she acted upon it was the debate.

A white cloak hood hid her raven mane and billowed as she walked with confident but whisper-quiet steps. The only weapons visible from the front were two blades and an Elder lightsaber although the vambraces were weapons and tools themselves. Sith runes danced upon woman’s honeyed skin, impossible to tell under the beskar’gam just far they reached. Gleaming white tresses mostly covered her scarred-over eye and the intact arctic orb intensely stared at the pair. They were blocking the direct path to the bar. <@503352868363960336> <@314889552848224257>

Looking over at the ewoks watching the fight Korvis turned to the Regent and replied, “It would seem you are correct.”

“Want me to go get Darrio so we can break the news too him?” Appius asked to Korvis and Zxyl.

“Thank you,” nodding as she sat down next to him, while signaling for the bartender to bring a round of drinks for the whole group. “I’ve been doing well. Got a few new scars, due to battling those crystal marine abominations. Plagueis has gone through an entire restructuring, again. Oh and battleteam Opress is no more,” gripping her glass a little tighter, she slammed the rest of her drink down. Setting the glass gently on the table, letting out an exasperated exhale as she thought for a moment.

As the next round of drinks arrived at the table, she passed a handful of credits to the bartender, motioning for another round to be brought after a bit. Glancing at Teebu’s comrades, and then at Teebu, she motioned towards the bar, “My brother, who is the reason I’m even here, has been doing well and grown within the clan himself. Kul has made his way back to the clan. Mmmm, and I was, well, I guess you could say, unceremoniously asked to step down from my position within the summit. And then after everything I was promoted to Adept.”

Chuckling, she took a sip from her drink this time, turning to Teebu, and smilingly warmly, “How about yourself? Has Clan Taldryan been treating you well?”

<@61385159655559168>

He noticed her thoughts regarding Opress’ closure, clearly on her mind. The only thing he couldnt tell was if it was a good thing, or a bad thing.

“I’ve been well, actually. Ive reached the brotherhood rank of Colonel, and the Taldryan Republic naval rank of Grand Admiral.” he said calmly as he finished off his current glass of Whyren’s just as the bartender brought the next round. “I marshal the entirety of the Republic’s naval forces now. Recently returned from a…sabbatical…if you could call it such. An interesting seven months.”

He looked over at her curiously. “What has happened to Aleister, out of curiosity?” he asked making sure to be careful on the approach of the question. Depending on the answer, it meant two things. Aleister was now unleashed, and free of the core issue that prevented him from coming after him…command. That command served as a direct tie back to the Plagueian upper eschelons which could spark a war if unchecked, causing Slagar to keep him on a leash.

Or, it meant that without his team, Aleister would no longer be a threat…so long as the two never wound up in the same cantina or bar.

<@375384499770359819>

“Oh, and Liandry joined us as well. And…apologies on the unceremonious exit.”

If there was anything that was going to soften Ruka’s flat expression and severe look for the Human, it was hearing the tremble of the Chiss’ voice, her stutter. He folded immediately, softening both his face and his stance as he put up a hand in a hopefully calming gesture. The man spoke in the same tones as he would have when his daughter was having the same kind of anxiety attacks he did – the both of them crammed into an empty tub in the bathroom, so she wouldn’t be alone, murmuring nonsense and reassurances, counting breaths, one two three four, braiding hair instead of scratching at skin or picking nail beds bloody, just something to do with shaking hands.

“Hey, hey, ay, it’s okay, Sivall. Nobody’s in trouble,” he stressed this carefully. A pointed look went to Alexsandyer, but then amethyst eyes were gentle back on her. “Sounds like just a case of us three needing to get to know each other a bit more, ay? So…he helped you out, gave you a…what he wouldn’t call a job? And then showed you the Brotherhood? And you ended up out here looking for books instead of in Dajorra? You two get separated?”

Ellac looked up from the Pantoran, his eye locking onto the woman walking towards them. He could feel the power drifting under the surface of her confident demeanor, an air and strength that reminded him of the first Adept he had met as an Apprentice.

“Ellac,” Kandria spoke quietly beside him and Kadrol. “I think it would be best not to get on her bad side.” The Miralukan could see the silhouette of the Force around the woman glowing brighter than any of the three Imperials standing in the corridor. “She may not share the same whimsical disposition the Emperor had when you met him,” Kandria muttered.

Ellac looked back at the Sentinel, extending his hand towards his lightsaber still held by Kadrol, who let the weapon slip from his grasp. Returning the lightsaber to his belt, the Knight turned his still-seething eye one last time on the man before looking back to meet the approaching woman’s intense pale blue iris.

“Wow, that is amazing, Teebu. I’m very glad that you have been doing so well,” raising her glass to him, nodding and flashing her signature smile as she took a sip. “And I’m glad that Liandry has found a home again within the Brotherhood. My brother was found thanks to her, so I still owe her for what she did for me.” Tahiri’s brow furrowed for a moment, considering his question about Aleister. Leaning back in her chair, trying to remember her last encounter with the Dreadbringer.

“Hmmm, Aleister. I believe the last time we talked was when we were made to vacate the Instigator, as the Dread Lord decided that with the disbanding of the the battle team, it was to be consolidated back into the fleet,” glancing down, she swirled the contents of her glass before taking another sip. “Which subsequently was destroyed in the last Great Jedi War with the Children of Mortis. As for Aleister, he boarded his ship the Nomad and left to either stay at Wrathus’ place on Aliso, or was Dromand Kaas?”

Rubbing the bridge of her nose as she tried to remember, “Forgive me Teebu, so much has happened between then and now, that I have forgotten precisely what he had said. All I know is that I saw him briefly during the war and then after that I haven’t heard from him since.”

<@61385159655559168>

Appius left the bar for the moment and went to retrieve his brother, but not before passing his Proconsul and Tahiri.

“Sup, Teebu,” he gave Teebu a fist bump.

Darrio was not going to like this arrangement in the slightest, but if Appius was right, this would bring out the old him, the honourable, respectable Darrio that he once knew.

He just hoped he was right…

He entered the spacehopper Darrio was cooped up in. “Come on, vod. They want to see you.”

Darrio raised a brow. “Oh? Has his high and mightiness given me permission to leave my cell.”

“He has, actually,” Appius smiled. “Come on.”

The pair of brothers made their way back to the Mortuary, where Appi felt a familiar presence.

“Socks, is that YOU? Zxyl did a good job on your armor. We’ll catch up in a bit, just gotta sort something out first.”

Darrio groaned.

Zxyl and Korvis, thankfully, had remained at their table. The crate containing Darrio’s armor still floating beside it.

“So,” Appius clasped his hands together. “You wanna tell him, Zxyl?”

<@141239709291511808> <@260640060775464960> <@583854106599489557> <@61385159655559168>

“No. He’s your brother. He’ll take the news better from you.”

Nobody’s in trouble.

Sivall took a deep breath but did’t yet let go of the tension wound in her muscles. Only time would tell if Ruka was telling the truth or not. Sivall formulated her response to Ruka’s inquiry in her head before she spoke it aloud. “We did,” she admitted, casting a quick look at Alex, “He had planned to take me to Selen but got… called away? He had asked for some people to come pick me up.”

The human ( <@236356564125089792> ) looked like if he could force himself to die right now he would. Sympathy filled her sanguine eyes— from what little she remembered of their time on Coruscant, he had always been kind to her.

She hoped he didn’t regret picking her up. Buyer’s remorse also applied to things you obtained for free. The Chiss woman reached out a took her wine glass back in her hands as if it would steel her nerves.

“This was just a pit stop.” She continued, “After this we were heading towards Dajorra and the Capital.” Her gaze was now directed at the floor as she sipped her drink, which was now almost empty. She had never known a home, not a true one, so Sivall was not trying to get hung up on the idea of her “new home”. It was safety, and that’s all she’d allow herself to plan for.

“There is nothing to be forgiven for, dear Tahiri.” he soothed with a closed sincere smile. “Besides, it’s-”

Before he could continue, the few dozen Ewoks now in the bar cheered with elated fervor as the match took an interesting turn, the Ewok using the ‘Egg’ that the Jawas had brought out to try and finish it off instead was cracked over the Jawa’s head. Repeatedly. Again, and again. Blood splattered across the ring as several Jawas held back another that desperately was trying to get into the ring out of anger. The Ewok raised the egg high into the air, roaring out loud.

“YUUUUUUUUUUUBBBBBBBB!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

As the Ewoks gradually calmed and the cheers quieted down, Teebu continued as he took hold of the fresh glass of Whyren’s he had been brought. “Besides, it’s not of much consequence. Peace has existed between our Republic and Plagueis for quite some time. With all of the changes following the Great Jedi War, it is my sincere hope that we may become closer.”

Socorra eyeballed the trio outside the bar, memorizing the individuals in a flash and scrolling through her mental database of–

“Socks!”

–dossiers.

“Appi,” she slightly turned and replied politely and just as informally to the Taldryan. Between the crash, him needing to sort things and Darrio being practically naked and unhappy, this seemed like it might be entertaining. Socorra nodded as she passed the trio and followed behind the brothers into the bar.

With a small audience of Korvis, Zxyl, and Socorra, Appius broke the news to Darrio.

“So, here’s how this is going to work.” Appius pointed to the crate. “Your armor is in there…”

Darrio scoffed. “Yes, I’m very aware of that. Thank you very much.”

“Well, you aren’t getting that back.”

Darrio glared at Appius. “Excuse me?”

“Zxyl here is going to put you through a series of trials to help you earn back your honour and…”

Darrio slammed Appius against a nearby pillar. His teeth were bare, his pupils dilated, and Appius could see the veins bulging out of his head.

“You sold me out!?” Darrio yelled so loudly everyone in the bar could hear him.“I do you a fracking favour, and this is how you thank me!? The frack, Appius!?”

“Darrio, calm down…”

“Calm down! CALM DOWN!? You absolute mother fracking goddamn piece of sleemo Hutt slime! You piece of utter sithspit. I should kill you for this! Who are you to tell me I have to earn my honour back!?”

Appius’ eyes hardened. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. But if you do it again, there will be consequences.”

Darrio leaned in closer. “Don’t tempt me Appius. You know how much I like consequences.” Darrio raised his voice. “Especially when I invoke the code to seek justice through combat!”

<@260640060775464960> <@583854106599489557> <@141239709291511808>

“Called away is… A gentle way to put it. I was embarrassed and I hadn’t bought ‘The Long Journey’ yet, so I was in no place to transpo a Force Sensitive back to Selen.” Alex began as his eyes fell across the pair of them, they lingered on Sivall a moment, before they rose to match those of Ruka ( <@244244163002892288> ) with a groan.

“I called for a collection team and stayed with her until they responded that they were in system, then I left her to them. I availed myself in a situation that I b'lieved to be improper when I referred her to the Clan… And well, I didn’t want her to believe I had… propositioned her…” The Human rambled, burying his face into his arms on the bar surface, a blush crept back over his face as he recalled the Chiss woman in his spare, oversized, shirt.

“Interesting,” mused Zxyl. This should be interesting.

Ruka’s scarred left eye and brow twitched. He put one hand to his temple, suppressed a sigh just like he’d been repressing most of his breathing while in the bar.

Why did this seem like questioning the kids about what happened to a broken cookie jar when they were little and getting two wildly different stories? Back before they’d learned to corroborate each other, anyway.

“Right. So,” he began, and dropped his hand, still using a Gentle Voice now for apparently both their sakes, one nervous and one embarrassed. “Nobody propositioned anybody, right, ay? And you are both here now, safe, which is the important thing. So here’s what we’re gonna do, yeah? Sivall, if you don’t wanna rejoin your transport, you’re welcome to ride with me back to Dajorra, or they can take you. Durne, same to you, or you can follow in your ship. We’ll get you both settled in and debriefed respectively once you’re there. Yeah? Sound good?” He paused to look at each one. “How are we feeling, what are we thinking?”

Alex nodded as Ruka spoke. The man was, surprisingly, well tempered considering Alex’s heckling mere minutes prior. This was likely why he had reached his position within the Clan, versus Alex’s own tendency to travel and disconnect from them for months to years at time.

“It was coming due for my routine visit home. I’d wager my apartment is covered in a good layer of dust, waiting to be cleared down.” He nodded. “I’ll compile my reports on the flight back. There was nothing too far out of the ordinary this time, aside from a few mapping errors on old routes and a scrubbed planetary system. Slavers were using a planetoid with low atmosphere for a staging point.”

The woman took in the bar scene as they all entered the crowded venue. A nod to Ruka of course and anyone else she knew that looked her way. A nod to his companions as well although Socorra’s arctic eye lingered uncomfortably long on the pair as if studying and judging threat level to the Proconsul.

She stopped directly at Vez’s chair at the counter and removed her hood and hair pin, allowing her white and raven mane to spill over her armored shoulders and down to her waist. It was deliberate.

“A round on my tab,” she spoke to the bartender with heavy accent, the syllables over-enunciated. The woman gestured to the whole counter and the booth full of Mandos. Not the Ewoks, her finger said. Her stomach growled.

Socorra’s eye finally caught Vez next to her and the smallest, briefest and perhaps illusory smirk lit the corner of her ruby lips before she continued walking through the aisle, her hair swinging from side to side.

A dark brow raised as she neared the quarrel at the booth and she peered from a seething Darrio to the Regent.

Interesting indeed, the glance seemed to say.

“Fine,” Appius’ tone was low as he spoke. “State your terms.”

“If I win, I take your armor as my own,” Darrio said. “No armor and no space wizard kark, either. I can’t believe how many of you space wizard Mandaboo frakkers there are now. You multiply like flies.”

Darrio eyed Socorra who had neared the group of Mandabros.

“And if I win, you go through these trials. No questions asked,” Appius said.

Darrio gave a nod. “Agreed.”

“Korvis,” Appius turned his head towards the Vizsla Consul. “Is there anywhere we can settle this? I need to teach my brother a lesson in respect.”

<@583854106599489557> <@141239709291511808>

The woman nearly snorted. “Space wizard Mandos were in Brotherhood long before you, Boo.”

A round on my tab. Words so sweet they might have come from a choir of Angels. Vez watched the older woman’s thick, luscious hair cascade over her shoulders and let her eyes stroll down and back up, cursing the bulk of beskar armor all the way. Hey eyes made it back up to Socorra’s face just in time to catch the faint twist of blood red lips into a smirk. Oh, that’s how it is, huh?

After the Human sashays away, Vez turned to her companion. “What do you think, Duke? Want a new mommy?”

PowerDuke grumbled, its eyes glowing in the disapproving red that was their only color.

“Well of course it’s a bad idea. Do I have any other kind?”

The hulking droid’s head sank lower, a faint static hiss coming from its vocabulator.

Ruka’s brows rose at this, his seriousness returning more and more as he spoke. “I’d be interested to know who your assignment comes from and who you used to report to. I haven’t seen any records of you…slavers ‘were’ using a planetoid? You want to tell me what ordinary and scrubbed mean to you?” The Mirialan paused, then, raising a hand to forestall Alexsandyer as well as he seemed to remember where they were. “Nevermind. Brief when we’re back, yeah. I’ve got a lotta questions, and I bet the summit will too.”

“We have a fighting pit. It is even wired for Camera’s. We could broadcast it across the station.” Korvis replied.

A dark, burn-scarred hand slammed a load of loose credits down onto the table as if starting a betting pool.

“What?” Socorra asked, looking around and shrugged, gesturing towards Darrio. “It’s uh, for the widow.”

The two Ewoks at the bar looked at each other, then the alcohol that the bartender began to serve after the round was offered; their eyes bulging with excitement. After the conclusion of the last match, it made sense that they were excited. That excitement faded however, when the bartender passed them up, and after serving the mandalorians to their left, gave a drink to the Jawa to their right.

Why had they been skipped was something they were surely thinking as one began talking in Ewokese to the bartender. The other one glared at the Jawa, pointing at the drink and motioning to themselves. The Jawa shook its head negatively, grasping the drink close to itself as it quickly turned away and began to down the glass.

The bartender was unable to understand the Ewok, pointing at Socorra who had said no Ewoks. The other Ewok pounced on the Jawa who was trying to down the glass of alcohol, now holding it in front of him to keep it from spilling as they both went to the floor. The Jawa began waddling across the Mortuary while holding the glass above in front of it trying to drink as fast as it can, with the Ewok in hot pursuit.

The other Ewoks quickly shifted their attention, laughing in their native tongue. Some began dropping credits on the table, maybe making their own betting pool on which would win?

Either completely oblivious to what “propositioned” meant, or choosing to ignore it, Sivall made no reaction to Alex’s ( <@236356564125089792> ) recollection of their meeting. Instead, she focused on Ruka’s positivity of the situation. The man was calm, or relatively so given the situation, and Sivall found that the tension in her body eased somewhat.

She let Alex and Ruka speak between themselves about the human’s trip back to Selen. It seemed there were deeper connotations to what the Mirialan was saying, something lost on her as a brand spanking new recruit. It seemed, although Alex was not in massive trouble so far, there was still some rough terrain on the horizon for him.

Once the green-skinned male had finished his sentence, Sivall gave a soft smile. “I’m good to continue to Selen on my own, but thank you for the offer, Ruka.” His uncomfortable expression when she had called him sir earlier had not escaped her notice. Finishing her glass, the Chiss woman stood and dusted herself off. “I won’t keep you two any longer, and I don’t know about you, but I would like to get out of this bar yesterday.” A respectful bow of her head was offered to both gentlemen before her gaze landed on Alexandyr for a moment.

“Alexandyr, should you want to talk more you’re welcome to come see me on the promenade. I’ll be here for a moment while I await my transport to take off, and I really would like to talk to you alone before you’re off.” With a faint smile, Sivall made her way out the bar and to the sweet safety of a slightly less density of people.

“See you there then, Sivall,” Ruka had said, offering a fuller bow back. He watched her go with only some tightness around the eyes, evidently not unconcerned about her arriving safely but letting it go. “And yeah, I could stand to never be in a bar ever,” he muttered more to himself once she was gone. He glanced to Durne. “You need anything, before we all go?”

“Yes, I would like that very much, having friends within other is very benefitial and helps greatly in times of need and in times of peace,” he nodding she watched what had transpired at the bar, as the chaos of the ‘live’ bar match between the Ewok and Jawa began. Before she could comment, Ro-Tahn walked over, with two drinks in his hand. “Hey Hiri, I was handed a second drink, so I figured I’d come see where you were.”

“Aww struck out again, brother?” her expression was one of concern, while her eyes sparkled with amusement. Looking towards the bar where the Nautolin girl was now linked arm in arm with a mando. Smirking she shook her head, “That girl doesn’t know what she’s missing out on.”

“Yeah tell me about it,” the taller Togruta glared at the other man, before motioning to one of the empty seats. “Could I join your little pack?”

“Wait is that one of the drinks that were offered to the bar?”

“Yeah, it is. Why?”

“No reason,” as she stood for a moment. Taking the offered glass from her brother she held it up, “Another round of drinks on me, for my Ewok friends and I.” Sitting back down she set the glass in front her, taking another sip of her own drink, before sliding it over towards the pile of credits.

“Oh Teebu, I don’t believe you’ve officially met my little brother yet. This is Ro-Tahn Drakon,” smiling, she nodded towards the tall Togruta still standing at edge of the table. “Brother, this is Colonel Teebu Nyrrire, he was in Opress before he joined Taldryan, and became Pro Consul.”

“Oh, it’s an honor and pleasure to meet another of my sister’s friends,” bowing his head with a smile, Ro-Tahn held out a hand towards Teebu. “I believe I saw you once or twice around Aliso, but my sister here always had me either doing training, or I was off flying.”

<@61385159655559168>

Darrio smirked at her. “Unfortunately for you…” He began using a sing-song voice. “I know something you don’t know.” He pointed at Appius. “I taught his Core’.”

Appius rolled his eyes. “Korvis, lead the way. Feel free to join us, Socks. At the very least this will be entertaining.”

That smugness.

“You remind me too karkin’ much of my brother.” Her amused smile quickly turned into a shit-eating grin that she didn’t bother hiding. “May the Force be with you.”

…Her fist raised to Darrio for a bump.

Darrio stared at the fist for a moment before slowly pushing it away. “Thanks, but I don’t need any space wizard magic on my side, unlike him.”

“If the banter is done we can proceed.” Korvis said as he led the way without giving them a chance to reply. Darrio was still flanked by the Deathwatch guards as they moved into the middle of the ship. Entering the promenade patrons of Sundari station scurried out of the way as the group was led through the casino and to the fighting arena.

A large square platform was encased entirely by metal fencing. The fencing was a good fifteen feet tall. Even the top had fencing forming what amounted to a large cube. As the lights and monitors kicked on the Consul turned to the group assembled. “I give you Hell In The Cell.”

<@837236610684813342>

Socorra turned to the Regent. “Are we staying here and watching or going with em? There’s round drinks coming but can do after.”

Throughout Sundari Station all the view screens flickered and went live to the fighting arena. The oversized cage was clearly visible. At the bottom of the screen a timer counted down to the start of the fight as well as another showing that the odds were even on who would win.

As the timer began to get closer to expiring both Darrio and Appius were locked inside the cage. The camera’s panned in on a large Houk in a wide brimmed black hat.

“Rim Joss here as we announce an unscheduled fight. A Mandalorian challenge has been issued. The challenger is Darrio Klars of Clan Klars, his opponent is Appius Wight of Clan Taldryan. This match is scheduled by the combatants as a no holds barred match. The use of The Force will result in immediate disqualification. The winner will be determined by submission, knockout, or death of their opponent. Betting is now open!”

Zxyl immediately puts a stack of credits on Appius.

“We’re going, for sure. This is one fight I don’t want to miss.”

“Hawt. Let’s gooo!” She extended her arm to pull Zyxl out of the booth, her other still holding her helmet.

“Damn straight!” Bes'uliik nodded, pulled out of the booth. Making sure his own helmet was secured to his head and pressurized as usual, the Regent offered his arm to the MandoLady to escort her to the fighting ring. Zxyl was most surprised that he was unaware the ring existed in the first place! There were times at Sundari when he too wanted to beat Appius’ head in, but for different reasons.

“You know something, Appius? I’m going to enjoy taking that armor, melting it down, and reforming it into something actually worth a damn. Your style is horrendous.”

Appius was, of course, not wearing his armor. This was to be a fair fight. Honour was at stake.

This was the way.

Darrio stuck up a middle finger at Appius. “Any last words before I kick your ass?”

“Yeah, I do actually, ” Appius gave Darrio an intense glare. “I’m going to enjoy tearing that finger off of your hand, and shoving it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

A collection of oohs and aahs sounded across the station from those watching as the referee started proceedings.

Darrio attacked first, throwing a wicked right hand towards Appius with his cybernetic fist.

Appius ducked right, letting the fist soar past his head. He countered with an uppercut, but was stopped by Darrio’s spare hand.

Darrio then grabbed Appius by the back of his head and slammed his face into tbe side of the cage.

The Ewoks did not seem pleased that all of the screens had gone away from the Ewok Wrestling League and now showed two humans of all things. Some jeered, while others looked at the screen curiously. The one chasing the Jawa, who now had finished most of the glass, lept at it but missed as it quickly shifted to the side, the Ewok instead barreling into Shimrah.

Teebu sighed and briefly facepalmed, including a negative side to side shaking of his head.

<@315192554410999808>

Aeternus remained mostly impassive as he tried and mostly failed to suppress a grin. He ‘obviously’ had nothing to do with the Ewok going where it didn’t intend to. He had not made a big show of his return, he had simply docked his ship for refit and refuell, picked up the new suit of armor he had commissioned, and went to grab a drink. His helmet was sitting on the bar next to him, and he picked it up, silently approving of the worksmanship that had gone into it. Soon he’d find out in combat how much it could handle.

Socorra readily took Zxyl’s offered arm and almost dragged him out to catch up to the group. But a presence suddenly caught her mid-stride and the woman paused, her head swiftly turning to the bar. It was familiar.. but from an age ago. Her mind flashed through mental databanks to recall titles and formality.

“Korras?” she asked, an eyebrow raising. Not much formality, anyway.

<@260640060775464960> <@250888848412770305>

The Mandalorian forge master examined the helmet resting beside Korras, nodded his approval at the craftsmanship, and stayed locked-arm with Socorra as he waited to get a move on. Obviously it had been a while since she saw the man, so Bes'uliik would let her catch up for a moment. The Regent definitely wanted to be at the ring when the fight started though.

Aeternus turned at the sound of his name being called. Not many people called him by that name anymore, and most of those that did, had known him by that name, years back. as he looked, he recognized Anubis right away, and gave him a nod. the woman on his arm took a bit longer for him to recognize. “Socorra?”, he asked, as he took in the two of them together. “It seems like your date is in a rush.”

Darrio had drawn first blood.

Appius was now bleeding from a cut under his left eye. A small amount of red liquid oozed down his cheek and dripped onto the floor.

Darrio attackedclike a hungry shark in the water. He could already taste victory as he went for a closed fist punch to the back of Appius’ head.

His cybernetic hand met steel as Appius’ moved his head out of the way.

Appius kicked Darrio in his kneecap, wobbling the older brother for a moment. He staggered back against tbe onslaught of fists that came hurling in his direction, fast, aggressive, the unmistakable style of Mandalorian Core.

Darrio blocked and parried as best he could, searching for an opening, but struggled to do so.

“Haar'chak! I said no Force, Appius!”

“I don’t need it to beat you!”

Darrio’s attempt at unbalanced Appius failed as an uppercut struck him hard in his solar plexus. Darrio hunched over and spat saliva out of his mouth.

“Sah,” Socorra replied with a nod, her thick accent over enunciating syllables. “It has been minute since DC.” She patted her companion on the arm. “Zxyl more like brother. But he is handsome under the helmet. We’re running to catch that fight on screen. Good to see you!”

She turned and pulled Zxyl through the bar aisle, barely paying attention to anyone they barrel through, although she gave the briefest nod to Teebu on the way.

“He’s not using the Force, di'kut!” Socorra shouted once they arrived, as if anyone could hear about the crowd.

Darrio grit his teeth, and with a burst of explosive energy, pushed Appius back into the side of the cage. He grabbed hold of Appius’ wrists. Unfortunately for Darrio…

Appius still had elbows.

He clocked Darrio three times in the side of his head with elbow strikes.

Appius seized his oppertunity and spun Darrio around, forcing his back against the cage instead. Appius leaned in closer to him, glaring into his eyes.

“Give up!” He said.

Darrio spat in his face. “Frack you!” He twisted Appius arm, and locked it in place so that tbe younger brother was hunched over. Darrio struck him with hard knees to his abdomen.

The first for abandoning their Clan.

The second for not saving him when he could have.

The third for selling him out like a piece of meat.

Appius dropped to his hands and knees. Damn, that felt good.

Darrio lined Appius up for a stiff kick to his chin…

“I don’t think he’ll need it. Even without the Force, Appius is a capable fighter most of the time. I would not underestimate his vod, though. That shutta knows how to fight dirty, of that I have no doubt.”

Zxyl rubbed the chin of his helmet, watching the fight intently. It seemed like an odd way to invoke the Creed given the dispute, but the Regent had no objections. He loved watching the fighting.

“Thank you.” he said as he took it and began drinking it. The other Ewoks began cheering the two on as they now began to fight in the Mortuary, completely ignoring the fight on the monitors and keeping their focus on the one at hand between the Ewok and Jawa. The Jawa climbed onto a table, egging the Ewok on to get up there. It gladly obliged before a full on fistfight broke out on the table. “I have a feeling this will either be the last time they are allowed here…or Korvis opens his own wrestling company.”

“Kick him in the pebbles!”

The Jawa turned and without thinking, did just that ironically. The Ewok gripped its groin, falling to its knees before faceplanting onto the table with groans. The Jawa raised its arms into the air cheering “UTINIIII!!!!”

While it celebrated, it was not paying attention. It assumed it was done. One of the other Ewoks slid a tray onto the table as the nut-cracked Ewok began to recover. It grasped onto the tray, slowly stood to its feet and uttered one word. “Yub.”

The Jawa turned after hearing that, with tray to face no sooner than it turned. It’s face turned sharply and violently as it spun briefly in the air and collapsed onto the table.

“I was messing with Darrio, they seem almost on the same level. He’s just.. mouthy. He is misogynistic even with an SO so I do wish to see Appi knock him down a peg, even if unrelated.”

“Pebbles,” she look up at Zxyl and snickered. Not a word she expected to hear.

Appius moved before Darrio could punt his head. He grabbed his older brother’s knee and tripped him up.

Appius quickly returned to his feet, and so did Darrio. The two brothers squared of again, Appius attempting to kick Darrio, moving his leg in an axe kick.

Darrio stepped to the side, attempting to strike Appius with an elbow to the jaw, but was parried.

From the audience, Appius heard a call;

“Kick him in the pebbles!”

Who was he to deny such a request?

Appius stopped what he was doing, allowing Darrio to overextend past him. When the older brother spun to confront him, he was met with a stiff kick between the legs.

Zxyl threw two fists in the air at Appius’ move and actually doing what he was advised for once, screaming a helmet modulated “Yeeeesss!”

It clearly had been a while since the Dathomirian saw a “backroom brawl”, but he was loving it nonetheless.

Vi'i “V.T.” Temm:

The Kel Dor hauler gave a final signature as they unloaded the last of the wares from his ship and turned to look around the hangar. His hand pushed on the chest of the dockworker who had handed him the dataslate to sign and he motioned as if he were taking a drink, inquiring where he could find a drink.

The worker locked eyes with V.T. for a moment, then pointed to the primary exit from the hangars, before rounding on his heels and heading off with the unloaded alcohol.

V.T. clicked on the headset slung around his neck and followed the path he was pointed towards until he ended up in the promenade and was faced with a choice. The Mortuary and its Gammorean guards, an upscale joint that made the man’s wallet ache thinking about it, and a casino where he had solid chances of making as much money as he lost.

V.T. always seemed to make bad decisions. This time, however, it seemed to pay off, as he made his way in and explored, following the hype to the colosseum.

Standing nearly motionless just outside the ring Korvis did not cheer on the combatants. But instead watched in a studious manner. Having never seen either of the two men fight for himself it was as much an opportunity to study the Consul of Taldryan as it was entertaining. Korvis rarely missed an opportunity.

A wave of his hand was all the arena master needed as a sign. Suddenly, two area’s of the mat opened up and a lift appeared. Various blunt instruments were on them that could be used as weapons, hammers, chairs, tables and even ladders. The crowd erupted at the signs of ne implements of destruction.

<@837236610684813342>

Appius was tbe first to take advantage of the weaponry. He grabbed a durasteel chair and waited for Darrio to get back onto his knees. When he did, Appius raised the chair and…

Darrio uppercut him in the nuts.

Appius dropped the chair. He hunched over in pain. Darrio pushed him over and grabbed the chair for himself, lathering Appius in chair shot after chair shot. Each one laced with anger, rage, and years of pent up mental trauma that he blamed him for. By the time he was done, Appius’ abdomen, back, arms and legs were covered in bruises.

Darrio dropped the chair and lifted Appius’ head. “Give up yet?”

Appius spat in his face.

Darrio clocked with a right hand in response. He grabbed a ladder and set it up in the corner of the cage.

He carefully lifted Appius back onto his feet. “You brought this on yourself, little brother…”

As the jawa and the ewok were duking it out near him, Aeternus frowned at the screen, curious what the plan was with the ladder.

Darrio lifted Appius up onto his shoulders, fireman’s carry style, and launched him into the ladder face first. Appius bounced of it and collapsed to the ground.

Darrio walked with a confident swagger as he picked up a nearby wooden table, and set it up in the centre of the cage. Without the Force, Appius was nothing. He was barely a man without his space wizard kark, never mind a Mandalorian.

He picked Appius off the ground and placed him onto the table, punching him in his now bloody face for good measure.

“You brought this on yourself, vod.”

Darrio grabbed the ladder, setting it up a few feet away from Appius. He climbed up the steel steps until he stood on top of it. The crowd cheered, daring him to do it. Darrio gestured with arms wide as he leapt.

He was milliseconds away from crushing Appius when the younger brother rolled out of the way. Darrio crashed through the table, wood and splinters practically exploding from the impact.

Appius staggered back to his feet. His face was a crimson mask, but his eyes held a rage in them that demanded vengeance. He seethed like a hungry vornskr after its prey.

There was a small bag near his feet that he picked up. He emptied the contents onto the floor.

Thumb tacs.

He picked Darrio up, slammed him onto the tacs. The older brother howled in pain as the sight of a Mandalorian pin cushion sent the crowd into a frenzy.

Appius punched him once, knocking Darrio flat onto his back. “Give up!”

Darrio tried to sit up, and spat blood at Appius, only to get another punch in response, and then another, and another.

Mercifully, he stopped. Darrio was Alice, but unconscious. Appius had won. He let out a triumphant roar, screaming “YES!” as loud as he could, with a giant smile on his face.

<@260640060775464960> <@583854106599489557> <@141239709291511808>

Zxyl simply did a slow but loud clap in response to Appius’ claim of victory. With Darrio unable to continue to fight, his brother was the clear winner of the battle.

“Congratulations. Well fought.”

Appius gave a nod in Zxyl’s direction, and then pointed at his face. “Any chance I can get a towel?”

Turning from the end of the match Korvis gave a nod to <@315192554410999808> , “I do now.”

Socorra mimicked the loud slow clapping and nodded to the victor. Surely there was a medic station but of course..

“Always carry a towel,” she said, tossing a small one from a belt pouch.

Zxyl turned his head over to Korvis and Shimrah, who were within ear shot and not far at all from his position. Now this had caught his attention. The Dathomirian-Mandalorian approached from behind Korvis, arms folded.

“Thanks. Much appreciated!” Appius wiped the blood off of his face, the towel turning a crimson red. “You erm… probably aren’t going to want this back?”

He then overheard Shimrah and Korvis, and his curiosity piqued. Deathwatch in Vizsla was, after all, founded by Appius as a Battleteam. He stood beside Zxyl, bringing Socorra with him.

“Not a chance,” she slightly smiled. An eyebrow raised as everyone turned their attention to the other Consul and the man on bended knee.

The Zabrak before him was indeed a powerful warrior and ally. Not to mention a trusted member of Korvis inner circle. If this was what Shimrah wanted Korvis would not deny him if it.

“First, stand back up. Mandalorians kneel before no one.” The Consul explained. “You are a valiant warrior, a trusted ally to Clan Vizsla, and have proved your worth. I see no reason to deny your request. Swear the oath and you shall be greeted as a brother.”

Zxyl made a few taps on his vambrace, requesting a Mandalorian helmet be brought from his ship. “We need a body of water, Korvis. Is there a fountain or some other location you think is suitable to conduct the initiation ritual, and we can get it over with now?”

The Regent’s gaze judgingly shifted to Shimrah, and his helmet turned slightly in the man’s direction. “This is no small commitment, Sith. You will be forever bound by the Creed and its tenants, with all the boons or hardships that accompany it.”

Moments later, the door to the fighting arena opened and a droid carrying a Mandalorian helmet - ironically, with holes to accommodate a Zabrak’s horns like his own - approached the group. Zxyl showed it to Shimrah momentarily, before holding it under his arm.

“I forged this helmet myself not long ago. Should you take the ritual, it is yours.”

“Normally, this ceremony is carried out on Daemunn. However, the fountain in the casino would be of adequate size. We have enough witnesses to the Oath as well. However, I will call for Shooter to attend as well.” Korvis mentioned as he motioned for the group to follow.

“Excellent,” nodded Zxyl as he took Socorra’s arm and the two of them followed after the Vizslan Consul.

The Regent and former Herald walked side by side, although clearly Zxyl had more excitement in his swagger. While Socks had rushed him out of the bar for the fight he was now pulling them to see this ritual through. Although slightly hesitant she went along anyway, since they would have said something if her presence mattered…maybe.

The woman was suddenly very aware of her helmet in the crook of her arm.

As the group neared the Casino entrance Tranok and Shooter were there to greet them. Shooter leaned against the door in his typical carefree attitude. Tranok stood with his arms at his side, all business all the time.

“The casino has been cleared of all patrons.” Tranok addressed the group more than an individual. “I will remain outside as will the others.”

“They may accompany us inside. Shooter if you will.” Korvis replied.

As the master spy opened the door Deathwatch guards lined each side of the walkway leading to the fountain. The fountain itself wasn’t overly opulent but was a focal point of the large casino. As the group neared the fountain Korvis turned to the Regent. “It would be an honor to have you lead the ceremony, Zxyl.”

Not even waiting for a response the Consul of Vizsla stepped to the side of the Regent.

<@260640060775464960>

Zxyl nodded, unhooking his arm from Lady Erinos as he had decided to call her, leaving her at Korvis’ side. He stepped up to the fountain, nodded his approval, at it’s shin depth, and turned to <@315192554410999808>. The Deathwatch guards beared several Vizslan banners, and some started to bang on drums. They’d seen this ritual done many times.

With his free arm, Zxyl motioned to the large fountain, which continued to run, generating ripples in the water.

“If you please, Shimrah.”

Zxyl felt immense pride.

“As a Mandalorian Foundling,” the Dathomirian-Mandalorian started, with a voice raised high enough for all those nearby to hear him while he was facing Shimrah, “It is a great honor to be the one administering this ritual, and I thank Consul Manda'Vod for the opportunity. Battlelord Shimrah, you have expressed your intent to join our Creed.”

The Regent took out a small vial, popping off the lid with his thumb and pouring it into the fountain. The water in the fountain shimmered blue for a moment, before the entirety of it turned a smokey grey. Korvis knew instantly what this had meant.

The man of Clan Bes'uliik took the helmet he had forged for a fellow Zabrak in two hands, holding it with the visor facing himself.

“Repeat after me,” started the Regent, before beginning to recite the words of the Creed, “I swear on my name, and the names of the ancestors.”

<@315192554410999808>

“That I shall walk the Way of the Manda'lor…”

“And the words of the Creed shall be forever forged in my heart.”

“This is the way.”

Zxyl nodded, and carefully placed the silvery helmet over Shimrah’s head with the ports for the horns sliding open a little just as his own helmet did, to allow the horns to more easily pass through. As it finally rested on his head, the ports closed around the Zabrak’s horns and the helmet pressurized.

“Battlelord Shimrah. You are now vod to our Mandalorian brethren. You may choose here and now to vow to never remove your helmet in front of another, but that decision is yours. None may fault you for your choice to be an orthodox Mandalorian or not.”

As he finished speaking, a massive wave of regret washed over the Dathomirian-Mandalorian for breaking his own vow, and he almost cracked with sadness in that moment.

“Very well, vod. If you wish, you may contact me to forge you a complete set of armor. It would be my honour.”

Zxyl turned away from Shimrah, no longer able to look him “in the eye”. He didn’t say a word to anyone, even Lady Erinos, as he made his way back down the hallway towards the station’s hangar turbolifts and sent a message to Korvis about his destination - so that someone knew.

“This is the way!” Korvis said as he pounded his fist to his chest. “You are now a Mandalorian, Shimrah. Go with honor.”

The Deathwatch guards turned and withdrew. The doors opened to the casino and the patrons were let back in to resume their various vices. Korvis motioned to his guests at the ceremony to allow them time to speak with Shimrah. “I will be in the Mortuary when you are done talking. Also, you should take Zxyl up in the offer to forge your armor. You will not find higher quality work.”

Zxyl pressed the button for the turbolift as soon as he arrived at the nexus, selecting the level for the hangar where his vessel was being kept as soon as he arrived. Once it closed he let out a ragey yell and punched the inside door several times with his gauntlet, denting it.

“H.A.L., prepare the ship. We’re leaving.”

“As you wish.”

The drumming itself could restart a heartbeat. Socorra forcefully slowed hers down and watched the baptism with eye and mind, drinking in the emotions and surface thoughts of the others. The woman’s eyebrow raised a hair at the final vow. She didn’t know Shimrah outside of his dossier but Xi’ana certainly had a lot to say about him. Socorra might not have seen tears behind the helmet but she felt them all the same. However, where his reaction was joy, Zxyl’s was opposite, with profound sadness. Socorra was sure she knew why; he had obviously broken his own vow sometime in the last year. It was clear how difficult this had been for him.

“Congratulations,” she nodded to Shimrah as everyone filed out. “Zxyl created this set from my old Erinos family armor that was destroyed in the war. He is a fine armorer, that I can agree with.”

“Thank you for allowing me to bear witness to your clan initiation,” she then said to Korvis with another respectful nod. “I do enjoy that there is never dull moment at Sundari.”

It was indeed hard for Bes'uliik, but he had no idea just how hard it was going to be until after the ritual had already begun. It had been just over a year since that fateful incident on Elysia in the Caelus System had seen his helmet removed against his wishes - by his own half-sister, no less - to save his life, and his subsequent and further fall from the Way by removing his helmet more.

At first it bothered him, but he eventually became less paranoid and repressed his feelings regarding the matter. The ritual had brought all those feelings back to the surface, shattering him and breaking Zxyl’s mental state down to fragments. While the Regent had chosen to infuse the only sample of the Living Waters he had into the fountain, bringing real, true, and undisputable Mandalorian heritage to Sundari Station, he felt he had to go one step further than a simple fountain to be forgiven for his transgressions and re-vow himself to the Way of the Manda'lor. So that’s what he was going to do.

Although nanoseconds in time, she thought about her next steps for a long moment and eventually decided to send Zxyl a message.

I have a question about a modification to the armor set that I desperately need. Do you have a quick moment before leaving?

She was not sure he would reply in that state, but talking shop usually was a best bet.

Zxyl responded as he exited the turbolift, making his way through the corridors.

Yes, meet me at the **Eternal**.

BRT

Metaphorically, at least. The Eternal was docked way the kark down there. She waited for last words with the Vizslans and headed to the lifts in short order.

When Zxyl arrived at the docking hatch to The Exchange’s flagship Corvette, he waited as patiently as possible for Socorra’s arrival. He had started to grow a bit of a soft spot for his fellow Mandalorian, and that was the only reason why he had waited.

When she exited the turbolift nexus and began to approach, the Regent uncrossed his arms.

“Lady Erinos,” Zxyl started, using his new moniker for her based on her previous service with the Council and her current standing as one of the last active members of Arcona’s Erinos Clan of Mandalorians, “What do you need?”

“I know that feeling,” she replied, nodding slightly. “From a different point of view, but I know it nonetheless. The Mandalorians can fill in that void certainly. Admittedly it might be why I come all the way out here so much.”

Unable to tell his masked facial expressions, she wasn’t sure what he meant by the last comments.

“Do you mean the Regent? He has business, I’m sure. No slight there, he seem very proud of you in fact. I catch him before he leave, but there should be round drinks for everyone in bar.. almost everyone. I have to send message but free drinks for you tonight. Compliments of my boss.” Compliments of her by way of Evant’s credits of course. All he wanted was the kudos anyway.

Appius would have liked to have been there for Shimra’s induction, but unfortunately, he was still bleeding profusely and required medical attention.

He and Darrio were in the medbay when the latter woke up. The worst of their injuries having been seen too. Appius sat on the bed, now back in full armor, beside Darrio’s bed as the older brother groaned and turned his head away.

“Go ahead, rub it in. See if I care.”

“No.”

Darrio turned his head back around. “No?”

Appius sighed. “Do you think I’m out to get you or something?”

Darrio didn’t answer.

“I… care about you, vod. I didn’t do what I did to slight you. I did it because I thought it might help you.”

“You thought selling me out and giving away my armor would help? Frack you, Appius.”

Darrio turned his head over.

“Back in the hangar… something happened. I saw a part of you. The old you that lead our clan so long ago. Honourable, proud, dignified. Its a side of you I hadn’t seen in so long. I thought maybe Zxyl’s trials might help you find that again.”

Darrio didn’t say anything for a moment until;

“That man died when our clan burned.”

Appius smiled. “So you say, but I’m not convinced,” he stood up. “I’m going to tell Zxyl you’ll do his trials. This will be for the better, Darrio. You’ll see.”

Darrio scoffed at him. “This is the way?”

Appius gave a nod of his head. “Yes, this is the way.”

He then left to go find Zxyl.

Lady. By body language alone she was obviously taken back, which was not an easy thing to accomplish. It’s a compliment you idiot. “Was I not supposed to call you Zxyl all this time?”

“You can call me whatever you prefer. You said you needed to discuss your armor?”

“I appreciate you accompanying me to the fight and initiation ritual,” Bes'uliik’s helmet modulated voice continued, “If there is an imperfection in your armor, please let me know and I will rectify it.”

If there was one thing the Regent couldn’t stand in any frame of mind, it was imperfections or unhappiness in his creations. He would have to make time to further investigate what Socorra needed corrected.

Now able to use the Force again, Appius immediately felt out where Zxyl was.

Though, he wasn’t alone. Socorra was with him. He didn’t want to interrupt whatever business the pair had, so he waited outside the ship for the right moment.

The Ewok slowly began to rise back to its feet after the in-person rendition of the huttcracker, looked up at the table to the cheering Jawa amidst the boos of the other Ewoks.

It reached up, grasped the ankles of the Jawa, and pulled them out from under it. The Jawa fell forward, cracking its face on the table before being ripped off of the table and then repeatedly kicked by the Ewok.

Teebu finished his drink and seemingly didnt care as much now that it seemed the bar had shifted their focus to the live entertainment. Blood ran from under the hood of the Jawa’s head whom was unmoving. The Ewok was celebrating victory awaiting a challenger.

That he would still use a more formal name for her was odd considering neither had before. If that was going to become a thing she almost wanted to remind him that she prefers the male honorifics anyway.

“Beskar was not widely available for my clan and neither were birth mothers. I have a child and trouble finagling the armor around him and no one to ask how they do it.“

She placed her helmet on so that her hands could mainly indicate the breastplate and how an infant is normally positioned for nursing. “Perhaps it could be modified to make removal simpler, or one handed execution? I just… I don’t know what in the nine hells I’m doing. I’ve had to karkin’ relearn everything with the coma.”

The Iron Beast of Mandalore listened to Socorra’s request intently, eyes wandering down to her breastplate as he listened to her request. Once she finished, he legitimately blushed a little below his helmet - something that very rarely happened - once he realized it looked like he’d been focused there for a while.

He raised a hand to his helmet’s chin, and rubbed it for a moment as he considered the possibilities. It was definitely possible, but there were so many ways to go about it and he himself had never made such a modification before. His need for perfection nagged at the back of his head. She’d need to be present during the modification process for testing demonstrations to cut down on iterations. Something one or both of them might consider a bit awkward, to say the least.

He gave in.

“I can do it. I will require your assistance and physical presence in the modification process, though. And I cannot do it now. I need to leave for Mandalore immediately,” his tone had urgency.

Eyes lingering made no difference to the telepath, as she could almost hear the gears grinding as the artist already got to work in multiple dimensions in his mind. It was not quite the same when she would decipher multiple data patterns in multiple languages but she could appreciate his art at least.

“I surprised you not require presence first time and it still fit well. It is no problem.”

Her head slightly tilted to his urgency to leave. “You were walking the Way when I met you, back when I had much atrophy and I could no wear armor or barely walk. Something happen since then. I recall your Lifeday attire even, the homage to dathomiri heritage. I wonder why you rush to take vow again?”

In case the woman’s thick Socorran native accent was slaughtering Basic too much she commented further to clarify: “I no judge, only wish to understand.”

Zxyl nodded, “No judgement felt. I have regretted my fall from the Way since the day it first happened, and each step I took further away from it. I learned to repress those feelings of guilt and inadequacy, but performing that ritual - which I was honored and proud to do - brought those feelings back to the surface, and I need to atone.”

Bes'uliik lifted his arm ever so slightly, hesitated for a moment, and then extended it fully towards the Erinos with an open hand facing upwards.

“Come with me to Mandalore.”

Slowly the uniformed Grand Admiral stood, looked at Tahiri and bowed his head forward. “It was an absolute pleasure, I invite you to visit on Kasiya sometime. I would enjoy catching up more.”

With that, he called to the other Ewoks and motioned to the door. They suddenly went silent and started to leave the bar in an orderly and calm fashion, the cheering one standing on the table yet still with fists in the air. “Yub?”

It hopped down and began following the others as they made their way out. It had been an interesting trip. Teebu waited respectfully for a goodbye from Tahiri before following them out.

<@375384499770359819>

Although she knew very little of it, the desert woman understood it was an honor to be asked to attend a personal ritual and place far more historical and spiritual than a casino fountain. And perhaps Socorra too needed the pilgrimage. She had fallen far from the Creed and even the Black Bha’lir code all in the name of the Brotherhood and there was much to atone for. Things she had done, those she had not, and those she had yet to do.

And for some reason Xi’ana’s annoying upbeat voice rang in her ear even though she wasn’t there. Adventure! the Zeltron silently shouted.

Socorra’s smaller, burn-scarred hand slapped into Zxyl’s palm and she looked up to him.

“Bet.”

“Then there is only one thing left to do,” the Mandalorian grinned as he pulled Socorra up the step to the boarding tube connected to the Eternal, “Appius. Come out. I know you’re there.”

He still hadn’t told the Taldryan Consul - or any other person he’d forged beskar armor for - about the small, hidden low-power and small-range tracker he’d installed inside the wire mesh for the breastplate. It just served as a minute “hey, your creation is nearby” purpose notification on his HUD, and was overall harmless.

<@837236610684813342>

Appius didn’t think anything of that and didn’t suspect a thing. He just assumed Zxyl saw him on a camera or something.

He stepped into view. “Sup, Zxyl. Just wanted to let you know that I’ll be taking Darrio back to Kasiya. Once he’s healed up, he’s all yours for your trials.”

Zxyl nodded.

“That’s fine then. I will collect him when we return. I’ll let you know.”

“No worries. It was good seeing you again,” Appius turned and made to leave. He needed to collect Darrio and rent a ship to get back to Taldryan territory.

Socorra turned to Appius, thoughtful for a moment although physically unemotive. “Hm you crashed your ship, sah? Want to borrow mine? The Affinity is ridiculously extravagant and ready whenever.”

The “R” in ridiculously rolled hard off her tongue, as if to expound on the opulence Evant would have demanded for his personal ride that had he assigned to her, crew and all.

Appius tilted his head to the side. “Are you offering me a lift?”

“Sure, won’t need for bit. Just no let Darrio steal again, boss will make me hunt him down myself and.. that no end well. He will have widow.”

Socks turned back to Zxyl, moving slightly to see them both. “By the way, did we all bet on Appi?”

Appius was gobsmacked. “Awww, you all bet on me to win?”

“I believe so.”

“I’ll send message for the crew to expect you both. Tell your brother he fought well and to enjoy the amenities.”

“If you have anything else left to attend to here, now is the time. We’ll be departing very shortly,” Zxyl said as he turned his head to face Socorra.

He checked his vambrace gauntlet seconds after a communication came over the Regent’s public channel. Instead of responding verbally, he sent a text message over the same channel back to the source.

Shimrah,

Send me whatever ideas you have for the design, including what era you wish it to be stylized after. I’ll incorporate what I can and ensure your armor is ready upon my return from Manda'yaim. You did nothing to offend. Welcome to the Creed.

Zxyl Bes'uliik

Finishing her second drink, Tahiri watched the precision and order the Ewoks had as they left, completely opposite of the chaos that had been occurring.

“Yes, it was wonderful to see you as well,” standing herself, she saluted before bowing deeply to Teebu and smiled. Looking around to make sure no one was watching them specifically, she leaned down and gave Teebu a quick hug, before smoothing his uniform back out as she stood. “I’ll take you up on that offer some time,” winking while watching the last of his fellow Ewoks leave. “I would enjoy catching up more as well. See you around, be safe my friend.”

“Nice to meet you Teebu,” Ro'Tahn flashed him a cocky smile and a quick salute. “See you around.”

<@61385159655559168>

He gave a soft smile and nod before turning to follow the entourage of Ewoks out and to head back towards his shuttle. “You be safe as well. Give my regards to the others, and may our clans never have to fight each other.”