First Contact (IC, open RP)

[Esk]

((This is a thread for players to describe their characters' first contact with the planet of Ialdon after the events of Knightfall. You do not have to have participated in Knightfall or even heard of Knightfall to participate. Simply an interest in the planet of Ialdon and the upcoming release of Nexus War can suffice!

For sake of tidiness, only the initial post per story should be placed here. If further RP is warranted or develops, please make sure to make a new thread in the Nexus War Roleplay board for further developments.

EDIT: At this time, RP with natives of Ialdon can be facilitated with me (Esk) if you wish, although ultimately, as more people become comfortable, Ialdon is for public roleplay.))

[Esk]

The Secret is Out:

They are coming. The outsiders. The peoples of the galaxy. The Republic. The Empire.

They are coming.

From her study in the highest tower of Hearth City, High Matriarch Faada Yarakols looks up. The streaks in the sky. She frowns.

They are coming.

A young child of Mirch steps off his steed after rounding up the herd. A ship lands nearby. He runs.

They are coming.

The fishermen of Poeth have seen the lights. The monks of Llaith pray to the Presence.

For they are coming.

Brother Therem Aven, aberth, ambassador, steps out of his bluestone dwelling, gazing at the wide open ocean. The experiments have failed. The unthinkable has occurred. Negligence. Betrayal. He pulls out his commlink.

"High Matriarch Yarakols, I have grave news to tell you. The memory devices malfunctioned, and the ship has been lost, perhaps captured. We must make preparations. For outsiders will come. They are coming."

[Cordae]

Previously: Status Report

[Elsewhere, with his official state visit to Coruscant finished, AMBASSADOR CORDAE KEYIS of ERINI boards his ship and speeds off to a hither-to-unknown realm of the galaxy. IALDON, Erini's closest undiscovered neighbor, and most recent trade partner. And yet, things are not as he had left thim from his first visit. Something is...wrong...

He meets with BROTHER THEREM AVEN, official representative of his people, in the capital city of HEARTH to discuss business...]

Friendship Knocking
@Esk
@Cordae

Cordae stands waiting in that grand room where he had first met Therem those many months ago. He stands with the posture of a man using to standing at attention, with his hands folded behind him as he looked out over the sea.

"Ambassador Cordae." The voice that speaks is soft, muted. Brother Therem Aven, dressed in full ceremonial regalia, enters the chamber and regards Cordae. "Apologies for my delay."

Cordae blinks, but makes certain to nod at the man with the proper obeisance. "Not at all, Brother Therem. Even -waiting- on Ialdon is a beautiful affair well worth the time. Have I come at a bad time?"

Therem makes his way toward a couch with quiet steps. He sits, gesturing for Cordae to do so as well. "Some... diplomatic difficulties have occurred recently." He smiles. "But what can I do for you?"

Cordae smiles sadly. "That's...actually what I wanted to speak with -you- about. Diplomatic difficulties." Cordae sits on a chair near the couch and leans over to speak. "How closely have you been following Erinian news, if I may ask?"

Therem mirrors the gesture, leaning forward. "Very closely, Ambassador Cordae." He slowly pours two cups of tea. "And I have heard of the unrest and confusion among your people." He looks up, passing Cordae a cup. "I am very sorry."

Cordae gratefully takes the cup and sips before continuing. "Well, 'confusion' is a bit of an understatement, Brother, but unrest is quite apt. The Empire fully admitted their strident attack on my planet. Of course, they waited for my journey to the Republic to launch such a thing..." He sips again. "They are ever vigilant for opportunity and weakness. And of course, I thank you for your concern."

"What I wanted to speak to you about is...strictly speaking, an official gray area for me and my office."

Therem leans back and folds his hands, waiting.

"As you're very well aware, we ambassadors end up doing very little of the actual decision-making in our line of work. We are mouthpieces. We aren't without considerable pull, but at the end of that day, we are given a thing to say, and we say it. My being here, at the very moment...was not ordered. Nor was it not ordered. I'm here because I want your reactions to what I want to say as they come."

"The..." He pauses, thinking of how to say what he means. "The Erinian Council has ordered me to adopt a more...open stance toward the Republic. I've actually just come from Coruscant after some negotiating with their ambassador there. We...It is very likely, based on a keen interpretation of politics and current events, that we will be entering into a partnership. From an observer's point of view, you might find that to be the case, I mean..."

Cordae waits a beat to let his words to sink in. "I...wished your comment."

Therem studies Cordae with grey eyes. He is silent for a time, then takes a sip of his tea. "You are in a difficult position. Caught between the two powers." He is silent for another moment. "I do not blame you. Though I mourn your independence."

Cordae nods, sipping as he does. "As do I, Brother. As do I. Though, I think you'll agree...our hands have been forced in this matter. We can't ignore clear Imperial transgression, lest we end up a second Zythia...and I couldn't do that to my people. No honest man could."

Therem dips his head. "No. You do what you must to protect your homeland."

Cordae studies the man before nodding softly. "Indeed." His tone is soft, exploratory. He doesn't know exactly how Therem feels about anything he's just told him. "I wanted to be the one to tell you, before the news breaks. I figured that I owed you. I also wanted to know how any such...agreement...would impact the trade deals I came to with your representative."

Looking up once more, Therem smiles wryly. "It will be good to have one ally in the days to come. Presence be blessed." He appears about to speak more, but returns to his tea instead. “You do not have to worry about the trade deal."

Cordae is visibly relieved for a fraction of a second, but he maintains his usual conciliatory demeanor. "My heart is lighter at that news. And, of course, that we may continue trade is also well met." He smiles, sipping his tea. "What sort of tea is this, might I ask?" He peers into the liquid, enjoying it quite a lot.

Therem leans forward, lifting the top of the teapot. A fragrant aroma fills the air. "Wyrdwood bark tea. Another delicacy."

Cordae grins. "You may need to stop giving me tasty delicacies, lest I attract your people's ire as another greedy foreigner only after your world's riches."

Therem smiles. "It's hospitality, and the bounty of the Presence. I enjoy the vysint that the traders returned with."

He gazes a the teapot for a moment, then sits back once more. "Ambassador Cordae, I too, have a question for you."

Cordae looks up from his tea, apparently fighting a battle in his head over whether it was acceptable to finish it or not. He sets it down on a saucer balanced on his leg. "I'll answer to my best."

"If Ialdon were to come to disagreement with the Republic, what would Erini's actions be?"

Cordae leans back, thinking, then responds. "That is itself another gray area. One of the benefits that would come with a Republic alignment is their military protection, of course...but other than several certain things we are -required- to do for the Republic....Erini remains very much its own self. Almost complete autonomy in galactic affairs, complete autonomy in domestic affairs...And our existing forces remain in-system for our own defense."

"So, to answer your question...I don't know. We can do...for more or less, as we like. Personally, I'll suggest directly to my superiors that we create a separate diplomatic branch to ensure our peoples are in good communication. If...you would wish that."

"That would be useful indeed." Therem looks away through the windows at the ocean. "Some things, once broken, cannot be recovered, and I think that what you propose... Is an excellent idea." He rings a bell. A slave boy enters the chamber, bringing a number of electronic documents.

Cordae sits, watching the boy as he carries in the documents. Should the boy glance at him, he would offer a small smile, but he would be quick to return his focus to Therem in the interest of not wishing to overstep a line.

Therem lays out the documents on the table before Cordae. "These are documents that detail the deal that had been established during the trade expedition to your world." He makes a gesture at the bottom of one screen. "You will see that the Matriarch of Trade had already signed here. I had meant to transmit the documents to you, prior to your arrival. But now that you are present, all the better to present to you in person."

Cordae cranes his neck, glancing over the documents. Aurodium for a taste of Erinian weaponry. Las-rifles, other things…They seemed particularly taken with their 'scullaighs', a type of compact rocket-propelled grenade launcher. But then, who honestly wouldn’t be? "Ah, brilliant. Of course, I would be only too happy to sign them here." Cordae produces a stylus from a belt pouch and, after a quick study of the documents before him, signs his name.

Therem takes the documents and peruses them. "Most excellent. The High Matriarch will be pleased. I will make sure a copy makes it also to your desk."

“That would be very appreciated. Now that you've helped me, I'd like to know if there's anything more I can do to help you. I...noticed you'd spoken of diplomacy earlier. Erini's a small world, but if there's something we can do to help..."

There is a knock on the open door. A young woman, clad in green and silver, stands at the entrance. Therem dips his head in apology to Cordae, then turns to the woman. "Yes, Sister Mairwen. What is it?"

The woman glances at Cordae, then Therem. Therem gives her an imperceptible nod. She nods in return, takes a deep breath, and reports, "Brother Therem, there has been another sighting."

"I see," Therem replies. "I will look over the report once I am finished here. Thank you, Sister Mairwen." He stands and bows. The woman bows in return, then departs. Therem turns to look at Cordae.

Cordae looks back at Therem, brow furrowed in concern. "Is everything alright?"

“To be frank, no. Not all is well." Therem sits down once more. He looks out at the ocean. "We have reason to believe that Ialdon has been discovered, and by not just the stray trader." He leans his chin on folded hands. "We've been receiving... visitors. All across the land."

"I...see." He looks out over the ocean with Therem. "You mean visitors from the major powers. The Empire and the Republic?"

"Yes." Therem sighs imperceptibly.

Cordae nods. He sits there in silence alongside Therem for a few moments, then speaks. "Erini has...immense experience in outsiders taking interest in our world. And...we have -particular- practice with people who want to come in and give us all the answers, to tell us how we ought to do this, or that, or something else....all in exchange for some hidden thing. And as the person in charge of -dealing- with those people, I found that extremely annoying....So, I'll only say...that if you would ever like help with something, please ask us. We've become adept at it.”

Therem leans back and laughs, his voice soft and mute in the large chamber. "Thank you, Ambassador Cordae. Your offer is greatly appreciated. I may remember that, in days to come."

Cordae smiles over at the man, though he is clearly distracted by thought. "How did they find you?"

“That is a complicated affair, and we too, only have... astute guesses." Therem smiles sadly. "Perhaps it is a... test? From the Presence? If only all outsiders were as you, Ambassador Cordae."

Cordae smiles as he looks over the seas. "Many are, Therem. Many are." He looks over at him. "There are honorable men and women out there, good people. And of course, there are villains. The successful, prosperous worlds are those that learn quickly who is which. I sympathize with you, definitely. Ialdon's future...for better or worse, will be tied to the skies. With prudence and...luck, honestly, I think you'll be alright. Though, I would hate to take up more of your time, if you're busy.

Therem nods, and stands again. "I hope that this meeting has been fruitful for you, as it has been for me. Ialdon is grateful for Erini's goodwill." He bows low, "Thank you for your visit, Ambassador Cordae."

Cordae stands and bows gently. "Goodwill, like aurodium, is a currency in this galaxy. You have both. You're already on the right path." He smiles. "Be flexible, be welcoming...and be wary, all at once." He smiles. "Thank you for seeing me.

Next: Scalded, by @Lolermelon and @Esk

[Esk]

Scalded

"Matron Ergrave, why do we shun outsiders?" "Because from the beginning, they have brought destruction..."


@Lolermelon - as Taelios
@Esk - as everyone else

Taelios chattered back and forth with his Jawa crewman, muttering a curse under his breath. "Yes, I'm sure I want you to shoot me at the planet. No, I don't pay you to give me advice. Oh... I do? Okay. Well, your advice is acknowledged and ignored." The Jawa let out a grunt of disgust before inputting a sequence of commands into a terminal. Taelios pulled a stark black helmet over his head and fastened himself securely in his escape pod, clearly marked, as it was the one with flames on it to make it go faster.

The Pureblood gave the Jawa and several gathered crew an eager and enthusiastic thumbs-up, before pulling the pod shut. The Jawa pulled the big red lever clearly marked "DO NOT PULL", and the pod shot through space at the planet of Ialdon. The Pureblood braced against the pod, focusing intently on his surroundings as he careened through space. The pod wobbled and shook against the gravity of the moons, but holds true to its course. Thrusters engaged as a section of the pod broke away into space, and it began its descent towards what appeared to be the largest center of population. The thrusters, however, gave out during the descent, and the pod began to plummet rapidly towards the earth. It collided violently, kicking up a cloud of dust. A tiny Pureblood was ejected from the pod at the last moment, and landed in a roll. He glanced at a datapad, and aligned himself in a straight line with his destination, before beginning to leap towards it with force-assisted strength.

Taelios's garments are now coated with a fine film of blue-colored dust as he leaps toward his destination: A large city on the horizon, constructed entirely of blue stone, heaping up into the sky in a mass of walls, towers, and castles. He approaches a large reinforced metal gate, guarded by two men in state-of-the-art military gear. The Sith lands, first sprinting and then skidding to a halt. He tucks and rolls, finally, unable to shave enough speed in his landing to remain upright. Sprawling across the ground, he bounces a couple of times before finally returing to an upright position. Dusting himself off, and admiring the blue colored dust, he smiles widely as he checks his pocket. "I did bring it, didn't I? Excellent." The Pureblood continues towards the gate, hands up in a gesture of surrender. He shouts out  to the guards. "Hi! Can I come into your city?" He smiles, almost stupidly.

Guns are raised with in a series of clicks. Overhead, more guards emerge over the brim of the bluestone wall. One of the gate guards speaks, his accent distinctive and odd. "Stop now, outsider. You are not welcome!" He barks a few more words in another language, and there is the sound of an alarm that begins to wail behind the wall.

Taelios complies. He sits down on the ground, on his hands. "So... can I talk to someone that could give me permission to be welcome?"

The guard holds up a gauntlet with palm out, gun still aimed at the pureblood. "Wait," He replies simply.

Taelios nods, and continues to sit on his hands. "That's some nice tech you got. And the stone is my favorite color..."

Time passes, the guards neither not move nor hold conversation. A cool breeze rises, blowing through the tall, turquoise grasses of the lands outside the city. Gritty blue sand comes with the wind, and finds its way into eyes, mouth, nostrils, irritating and cold.

Taelios clears his throat, as if to speak. "Can I take a drink?" He seems to have grown fidgety, but remains remarkably still.

"No."

There is the sound of speech behind the door. The first guard continues guarding over Taelios, gun raised, as do the guards overhead. The second gate guard steps backwards, coming to a small door cut into the large metal gates. Closer examination of the gates shows intricate embossing of natural objects, and humanoid figures walking among them, hands up in welcome. Three moons are depicted near the top of the gate, shining over a young woman, whose form adorns the small cut-out door. The second guard opens the door.

A robed figure steps through, its form feminine. Two more guards step through with her. Her face is veiled in shadow.

Taelios frowns deeply. He remains still, watching the gate intently as he notices motion. He lies back on the ground and gazes up into the sky, hands now folded behind his head.

The figure studies Taelios, then steps closer to him. "What manner of creature might you be, and how have you come to land on our world? The guards tell me you streaked out of the sky like a star."

"I'm a Sith Pureblood, if you want to be technical. But it is more accurate simply to call me Taelios. I was shot out of my ship. That ship, there..." The Pureblood points at the Fourth Wall. "But you probably don't want it here, so..." Taelios mutters under his breath, and... the Fourth Wall makes a jump out of orbit. "It would have complicated things, anyways. And what manner of creature are you, that you've a world like this?"

The woman shakes her head, the voluminous hood fluttering in the breeze. "You have yet to earn the right to answers, outsider." She nods at the guards beside her. They step forward toward Taelios. "You will not be hurt, at the moment. Please be cooperative and follow me."

He smiles, but remains silent as he kips up to his feet. Folding his arms behind his back, he follows at an appropriate distance away from the obviously important woman.

The woman steps through the small door in the grand gates, almost a mirror image of the carven woman on the door. The two guards with her bring up the rear, goading Taelios into the city.

There are guard towers even within the wall. Taelios can tell that he would have been spotted long before he had approached the gates. All guns continue to be raised, aimed at the sith pureblood who follows the woman.

Taelios continues to smile at and mentally evaluate the guns and armor of the guards. He offers the odd polite nod but is still silent. His appraisal begins to move from the guards and guns to the city itself, mouth now ajar in plain wonder.

The guards make no gesture in return to Taelios's nod. Their gear continues to appear top-of-line, such as might be found among elite troops of the Imperial military, though they bear certain distinctive differences, additions, modifications. The woman continues to walk, taking them through a metallic corridor, clearly hastily erected - and then they step into the city proper. It is as if they had stepped into the past.

Blue stone buildings rise up around them, each block apparently hand-set, hand-chiseled. They soon arrive along a wide street. Common folk mill about, but quickly step aside when they see the group approaching. They bow, and go another way. The streets desert themselves in their wake.

Taelios watches the common folk disperse. He refrains from comment.

Around them rise stalls, shops, schools, and dwelling places, all as might be found in any other city. The streets are paved with flat stone, also blue in color. Farther off, the horizon fades into rising heaps of castles and towers, one atop another, leaping into the sky, which is also blue, so that it seems as if the sky and the buildings were one. But the woman does not lead them that way. She walks down a side alley, the only light visible being a thin line of halcyon over head. The guards step closer.


Taelios sighs as he steps into the alley, tensing slightly as the guards approach. "If you're going to do what I think you're going to do... don't."

The woman does not answer. She suddenly stops, places a hand on a dark block in the alley wall. Suddenly, the wall before her shimmers and fades, revealing a small door.

Taelios sighs a breath of relief. He smiles at the wall glamour, and relaxes visibly. "Neat."

"She is everything. She is nothing," The woman murmurs. A mechanical voice replies, "Voiceprint recognized. Authorization in process." After several moments the door slides open, she steps in, and the guards again herd Taelios forward.

Taelios complies. He makes a "tsk"ing noise at the guards, however.

They enter a long hallway lined with plush carpeting. They pass many doors, guarded by people as well as electronic measures. Most doors are silent, and all noise is muted. But occasionally, screams can be heard behind some.

They finally arrive in a large chamber, with several rooms exiting from it, clearly visible through reinforced glass. She leads Taelios into one of the rooms, and gestures toward an ornately fashioned metal chair. "Sit," she says, and takes her own chair.

Taelios gazes at the chair. Before sitting, he inspects it closely for any hidden restraints. "I'm not into this sort of thing, generally, you see..."

Folding her hands, the woman asks, "What might that be?" The guards array themselves by the doorway as the room door slides shut. The walls are bare, aside from a symbol of three rings painted into the white ceiling.

"Oh, nothing. I guess it's not what I thought it was..." He very delicately settles into the chair, satisfied that it probably is a trap regardless of how careful he is. "First of all, thank you for not shooting me, and second of all... thank you for not shooting me. Can I take a drink now?"

The woman stands once more. She palms open a wall panel by the door, taking out a plastoid bottle, filled with a clear fluid. She hands it to Taelios.

Settling down into her chair, the woman says, "You may call me Confessor."

"Confessor. Pleased." He uncaps the bottle and drains the bottle of its contents in several greedy gulps. He lightly places the bottle down and levels his gaze on the woman.

The woman draws back her hood. Her skin is tan, and her hair falls black along her high-boned cheeks. "Tell me again, sith Taelios, how did you come to find our world?"

"There was this crashed ship... the location was in the memory banks."

The woman stares at Taelios. "Where did you find the ship? Was anyone in it?"

"Voss. I didn't see anyone in the ship. That doesn't mean that no one was in the ship, but I didn't see anyone. I wouldn't be surprised if there were, though."

The woman folds her hands. "What led you to the ship?"

"The Force."

The woman blinks slowly. "Yes, I have heard of the Force on the lips of others before." She stands, now starting to pace in a circle around Taelios's chair. "What was your intention in coming here? You find a ship. Why do you trace its coordinates?"

"Why... wouldn't I?" Taelios appears wholeheartedly confused.

The woman stops. "Merely curiosity then?"

"More or less, yes. I mean, new people, new culture, new means of entertainment to learn... Music, love, joy, conflict, struggle... I thrive on it. An unknown planet is the ultimate lure to an adventurer like myself..."

"You intend to stay then?"

Taelios asks, "Unless you're going to make me leave?"

The woman sits down once more, the shifting of her orange robes muffled by the walls. "If you intend to stay, you will stay on our terms. But regardless, you will not be allowed to leave." She looks at Taelios, pupils black and mute.

"What are your terms, then, Confessor?"

"You will be washed and decontaminated. And then you will receive re-education with the Sisters in the worship of the Presence. This will take some months. Then you will be assigned a place to live, and a place of employment. Your activities will need to be reported to the Sisters on a biweekly basis. After ten years of good behavior, you will be inducted as a citizen of Ialdon, with all the rights and responsibilities thereof. The only remaining injunction will be that you do not leave the world.

"That's really... _really_ funny."

The woman tilts her head. "How so?"

Taelios stands. "I come in a more authoritative fashion than you presume. Though I may appear timid and compliant, my patience begins to grow thin. I wish merely to explore, and offer comment on your defenses so that you might be prepared for that which is to come. The Empire and Republic have their sights on your planet, and I am LITERALLY the best person to have arrived here before them. I would like to offer you assistance, but if this is your treatment of outsiders... I am unimpressed."

The woman leans forward. "I am being -kind-." She gestures toward the empty bottle before Taelios. "Do I take this to mean that you refuse our terms?"

"I think you mistake me for a mere peon. I will gladly undergo your washing and decontamination rituals, and I will visit the Sisters to appraise your "Presence", which is likely the same galactic energy field I can use to do this. Taelios pushes to his feet and lifts the chair with the force, turning towards the door. His eyes flash as he sends a mental suggestion to the guards, implying that maybe they ought to take a nap.

The guards yawn, but do not entirely fall asleep. The woman stands and steps before the door, her eyes on the floating chair. Guns are lifted by the guards. The woman remains calm. "Do you think we have not encountered outsiders who misuse the gifts of the Presence?" She gestures with her hand, pushing against Taelios's control on the chair. "I am a Confessor. I know how to match your 'Force'."

Taelios shakes his head. "You know of the Force, but you are a mere fledgling. Do not test my patience, nor my good will. It is a valuable commodity, one that is severely lacking these days." The Pureblood's feet leave the ground as his fingertips begin to spark with lightning. His pressure on the chair increases, though the smile has not left his face. "Show me what you can do, then."

The woman struggles against Taelios's pressure, but cannot best him. She suddenly lets go, the chair slamming with a loud THUD against the glass window, causing a web of cracks, but not shattering it. She rallies a wave of energy toward the sith pureblood, attempting to push him over. At the same time, the guards begin to fire their blaster rifles.

Taelios rides the wave of force energy backwards as he is shoved, floating into and past the crossfire of blaster rounds. He cushions himself before colliding with the wall, and his smile only widens. "You have potential, for certain. But I believe it is you that misuses the gifts of your Presence, Confessor. Let us be civil, and share with one another rather than bring about destruction." He focuses again on his suggestion of sleep, intensifying it as he attempts to lull the guards to rest.

The guards drop to the ground, asleep. The woman slams a button on the wall. "Unstable prisoner in chamber 77. I repeat, unstable prisoner!" She turns back, drawing out a long, gold-sheened knife from her belt. "The terms still stand, sith Taelios. If there is destruction, it is of your own doing." She holds the knife up, stepping carefully around the pureblood.

"No, though. I just want to be friends, I don't want to fight you or go to your church or be a citizen! I'm already a citizen of some other place, and besides that what's stopping me from bringing my ship back and calling a shuttle? What stopped me from just jumping over your gate, or breaking it, or throwing you around like a ragdoll? I. Want. To. Be. Friends. Bring me someone friendly. Bring me someone that will drink alcohol with me and talk about the galaxy at large."

"This is our -offer- to you." She flips the knife in her hand. "If you will not comply, you will be eliminated."

Taelios points at the guards. "I could have killed them, but I didn't. I could kill you, but I won't. I could kill your guards, but I won't. I'm going to leave now, and go talk to someone nicer. Excuse me. I'm sorry I shot myself onto your planet."

More robed figures arrive outside the room, all women, holding long spears. They peer through the window, arrayed in a semi-circle.

The woman speaks firmly, "I'm sorry. You will not be permitted to leave."

"You're not sorry. And I'm done asking for permission. Tell them to take cover if they like being alive."

Taelios begins to focus more intently on the force, lightning and dark side energy beginning to coalesce around him. His eyes turn from their usual red to a glowing golden, and his face contorts as if in pain.

The woman leaps forward, dagger flashing, her long black hair whipping wildly in the swirl around Taelios. Her movements are swift and agile, supernaturally enhanced. The women outside stand at the ready, chanting. Their words become energy that lend support to the Confessor. She stabs.

Taelios' eyeridges raise in interest. The blade, however, doesn't deter him from his focus, the lightning coursing across his skin arcing into the confessor through it. It sinks into his shoulder, though it meets more resistance than one would expect from flesh. The dark side energies begin to take form in the shape of an orb, ominous and deadly. It emits a low hum, one that intensifies as it begins to grow in size. "Take. Cover."

The woman cries out as she is burned by the lightning through the pureblood's skin. But she does not back down. She pulls out the knife and slashes again. And again. And again. Even as she begins to fall apart. "In the Presence, there is everything!" The women outside open the door and rush in. The smallest of the girls turns away and runs down a corridor, calling out in a high voice and a strange language.

The Pureblood, now more conscious of the slashing and stabbing blade, leans and twists as best he can to avoid it. "This is the last chance I'm going to give you to take me to your leader. Put your weapons down, stop stabbing me, and we can work something out."

The Confessor stabs her blade once more into Taelios's chest, then falls to the ground. The circle of women level their spears at him. "Sdim ots!" They cry, and leap on him all together.

Taelios howls out in pain, not bothering to remove the blade as he hurls the sphere of dark side energy... directly at the ground. Static shimmers through the air around him as a bright flash of light fills the room. All is heat and pain and fury, and then nothing.

-----

There is an explosion in Hearth City. All is calm, and then, the flash, the brightness of light, soundless. Heat follows, and pain. Blocks of streets are decimated. People fall to the ground, flesh stripped from bone, charred. Then the sound... like a drum resounding through a world, like a roar.

High in the her tower, the High Matriarch stirs. "Presence," she says, eyes roaming over the devastation near the southern gate. She passes a hand before her eyes, then puts it to her chest.

[Esk]

The Old and the Beautiful

@recoveringgeek as Jaade
@Esk as everyone else

The hyperdrive on the Jaded Dream winds down and disengages, shifting starlines back to realspace. It had been a difficult jump to calculate, given he had no known trajectories to follow. No hyperspace beacons to orientate to. The aged Smuggler shifted in his Captain's chair, one foot on the console, before keying up his sensors and beginning to scan the local system.

There is one habitable world, the second of four, surrounded by three moons and an asteroid belt. Storms brew in the upper atmosphere. The landing would be tricky.

Jaade studied the sensor readings for a few moments, before focusing a tight beam scan on the second world. Specifically, he checked all the channels on his comm, listening for the Message to Spacers ( http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/METOSP ) that was standard practice for any system operating an active spaceport.

There is complete silence. If there are spaceports below, they are not welcoming visitors.

"Of course not," Jaade murmured to himself and engaged his sublight engines, beginning a lazy approach to the second world, listening for any active comm chatter, even as he scanned for orbital vessels, shipyards, space stations, or even derelict or abandoned fuel transports.

There is a single orbital vessel that suddenly shows up on Jaade's scans. It is a capital ship, but it is on the other side of the planet. Scattered comm chatter from the world comes through. Most of it is unremarkable, or unable to be deciphered, being in a different language. One particular conversation sounds very heated, fading in and out. The name of 'Zythia' is heard, and after some time, 'Voss'.

Glancing warily at the looming Capital ship, Jaade accelerates the Dream into high orbit, hoping his ship's smaller profile won't immediately be detected against the energy storms, even as he diverts auxilary power to his comm station, to try and boost the signal he is picking up.

The electrical storms completely scramble the the comm signal during the entry. Static is all he hears. Atmospheric charges bombard the small ship, but the Jaded Dream makes it through intact, perhaps not at the exact latitude and longitude originally intended. Once through the upper atmosphere, the signal suddenly boosts greatly. "Sdim ots... *crackles* ... ai zhaleth nach ...." ".... aberth Therem..."

Jaade smartens his posture as the ship begins to buck, and he starts recording all of the signal he can capture... he's going to need a damn protocol droid before this was over. Clearing the low lying storm activity, he begins scanning the nearest continent, though without immediately flying for the nearest concentration of life forms.

The ship is near the junction of two continents, which are connected by a land bridge. The eastern of the two continents bears a very large desert, surrounded by verdant landscape that fades to violet in the far east. The western continent has a number of mountain ranges, and one of its coasts is heavily wooded.

Pondering his options, he powers up the engines, and begins hugging the wooded coastline, staying close enough to the water in an attempt to avoid early detection if it exists
 
From a higher elevation, villages and towns can be seen farther inland. However, the coastline appears completely uninhabited. It is early morning in this particular region of the world, and thick mists cover the woods for miles from the coast.

He keeps the Jaded Dream flying along the coast, before arcing up and towards the mountains. He knew he was risking being detected in a sensor net, but the higher elevation would allow him to detect energy sources, life form concentrations, and potential trading centres.

The ship flies over the villages and towns previously seen. This part of the continent appears sparsely populated in general. But the mountains loom before him, peaked with snow. The Jade Dream is able to cross over the mountains near the tail of one of the ridges, and beyond, a large lake can be seen, rimmed with green. Farther off, another, higher set of mountains rise. The southern border of the lake shows scattered signs of civilization, but always well hidden within the natural surroundings.

"So quiet. So modest. This is a world that produced such a devastating weapon?" Jaade banked the ship and soared over the range, before slowly descending towards the lakeside settlements.

One of the settlements appears much larger than the other, dominated by a low but sprawling building of red-tiled roof, with well-maintained gardens and artificial waterscapes surrounding it. Near to the building is a landing area large enough for three midsized ships. Farther in from the settlement, there is a meadow that can also be used for landing at a pinch.

Opting for the meadow, Jaade eases the ship down, knowing the noise will attract visitors, but the nearby trees will prevent the Capital ship from deploying any shuttles laden with troops right outside his landing ramp. Once the ship comes to a rest, he heads to a storage locked and begins to gear up.

Jaade is undisturbed for a time. But after some minutes, he hears a scream outside.

Smacking the release on his ramp, he points a threatening finger at GONK, before walking down the ramp, hand on his belt, as he surveyed the meado before him.

The meadow is quiet and peaceful, filled with tall grass and wildflowers of various colors. Stands of green-leafed, white-barked trees surround the meadow, and behind the ship, the forest rises in elevation. In the distance, the thin wisp of a waterfall can be seen. A young woman can be seen at the edge of the meadow, hand covering her mouth. She screams again when she sees Jaade, and runs off into the trees.

"That's what they all say darlin'."

The meadow returns to its quiet.

Jaade exhales, and keys a remote in his hand, lowering the aft cargo lift, displaying an array of salvage available for trade. Plucking a collapsible chair off the lift, he unfolds it, and settles in, kicking up his feet on a ragged piece of durasteel, closing his eyes. A breeze rises, ruffling through Jaade's gear, carrying with it a fragrant scent.

Some minutes later, the sound of footsteps can be heard through the trees. Jaade continues to lounge casually, leaning back in his chair, eyes half-closed in casual meadow slumber.

A group of humans walk into the open meadow. The young woman is there, followed by several men, and an old woman. They all wear simple clothing, apparently handcrafted. The men bear blasters, and walk up to Jaade first. They look at him uncertainly.

Jaade cracked open an eye and gave the men a friendly nod. "Gentlemen, you just stumbled across the finest salvage in the I-9 grid of space. No, really, the absolute finest. However, you didn't bring a skiff, and let's face it, you may want to impress the ladies, but you ain't hiking all the way back to the lake carrying a cubic meter of salvaged durasteel hull plating."

The men look at Jaade, at the arrayed salvage, then up at the ship, then back down to Jaade. They turn toward the older woman, who stands tall, unfearing. She dips her head at them. They step aside, allowing her to come forward.

"I am called Mere Rhiann." She walks toward Jaade. "You say that you bring... salvage?"

Jaade slowly stands up, nodding at the woman. "Mere Rhiann? Ma'am, this here is some of the finest salvage you've ever seen. I have starship grade hull plating, enough transparisteel to build a covered deck with complete view of your stunning lakeside estates. I have computer core batteries, still charged mind you, that can run a jury rigged terminal for a week. Or light up the night for someone's special life day celebration. If you prefer something precious, I have slivers of titanium and quadranium, very rare, very expensive, very valuable, that can be use for any high-grade electronics works or finishing you need."

The woman stares at Jaade with pale blue eyes. The breeze ruffles through her white, wispy hair. "We have no need for those items here. Though... perhaps those in the cities would need them more." She leans over a crate of the salvage, running her bony fingers along the items. Straightening once more, the woman says, "You are in Eirian, the blessed hold. My friend, you should not be here."

The men speak to the woman in their own language. She replies, then points up toward the sky. They following her gaze. The young girl remains in the back of the group, eyeing Jaade with half-fear and half-fascination.

Jaade smiles through the beard. "Darlin', if it's blessed, where else would I want to be? Now, you might think with all the fishing and hunting that an intact Czerka sensor array might not be of much use, but think about it, a perfectly shaped bowl, resistant to heat and water, well, you could prepare just about anything on here, or just plug the hole in the middle and settle in for a float on the lake."

The woman replies, "You appear to be lost, or have made a wrong turn." She repeats once more, "You should not be here. You should leave, before you are discovered."

The young woman tentatively steps up through the group. She touches the shoulder of Mere Rhiann, whispering in her ear, then pointing back through the trees, toward the shore of the lake.

Jaade holds up a handful of ball bearings, swirling them in his palm. "Haven't you all discovered me? I did land in your field after al... oh, those weren't blessed meadow flowers were they? I am real sorry 'bout that. One good rainfall and the grease ffrom the landing gear will wash right off."

The young woman gazes at the ball bearings in fascination. She looks up, then speaks with a slight accent. "Mere Rhiann is trying to say that... The soldiers are coming. They will take you away. They always do." The older woman nods, turning her head toward the trees.

"Soldiers? That sounds real unfriendly-like. It's the permit, isn't it. I didn't get it stamped. Happens all the time. Alright, tell me what the fine is, and I'll get it sorted out real quick, and we can get back to bartering. I figure, ten cords of fresh cut wood, and a netfull of your salted fish. It'll be a delicacy where I'm jumping to." He murmurs under his breath. "Maybe the Jedi will find a bone and choke."

"There is no fine," Mere Rhiann replies. "You are an outsider, and as such, you are now by Ialdon law bound to this world, living or dead... I am old, and perhaps I will bear guilt before the Presence for this, but I have no wish to see you in chains, or dead. You do not appear to be the kind of man to settle down." She sighs. "I am obligated to inform the Order of your presence, and so I did. But I give you a chance to leave."

Jaade speaks to the Mere, but looks past her, squinting into the trees towards the lake. "Darlin', you read me like a datapad. Thought about settling, once, but it didn't take." Jaade hands three ball bearings to the younger girl as he ignores the men and focuses on the woods. "I am right sorry you felt the need to call other prospective buyers, I usually prefer to deal with the locals. Though I suppose soliciting on blessed lands is an oversight on my part."

The young woman draws back at Jaade's motion, but, seeing no harm, reaches out again once more, receiving the ball bearings. She gazes at them. "Three spheres for the three Moons." She blushes.

Jaade watches the trees even as he replies. "That's damn near poetry sweetheart. They'll also keep your door from squeaking."

Mere Rhiann continues to study Jaade. Without moving her eyes from him, she speaks to the younger woman. "Sister Siwan, please go and receive the soldiers."

"Now, Mere Rhiann?" The young woman looks troubled.

"Now. And please do show them the Old Trees on the way. They must pay their respects first. Do you understand? The full ritual, without any omission."

Sister Siwan makes a small gasp, looks at Jaade, then Rhiann, then nods. She runs off, calling out to the men. They wave back at her, and continue their languid vigil.

Jaade turns away and smiles at the Mere again. "You're right, it's a bad trade to barter on an empty stomach. Tell me, any one else disturb the blessed lands recently? Might have seen a red-skinned runt doing a hand stand? Offer to replace your ears with droid parts?"

Mere Rhiann frowns. "Red-skinned, you say?"

"Short too, don't forget short. Might have stood on a box of hydrospanners."

The old woman finds a crate, and sits down on it. She passes a hand over her eyes, then presses it to her chest. "I have not met such a man. But I have heard of him, and what he did, not a day ago." She looks up. "Perhaps the soldiers should speak to you after all... Not that... you seem to be taking my advice," she adds wryly.

Jaade fixes the woman with a firm look. "The law and I don't ever see eye to eye, usually on account of me standing over them after I knocked them on their aft. Tell me what he did, and where I can find him."

"I would tell you what he did, and where." Mere Rhiann smiles at Jaade. "But you would only make your situation worse to go there, if you are able to go at all." She turns her head toward the trees once more.

"Could be my situation is always worse for wear. 'Sides, I owe him one. Family is important, and he looked after my daughter like only he can. I intent to repay him in kind."

Mere Rhiann nods at Jaade. "I am old. I think I care for family, and the young, more so now than ever." She smiles again, wrinkles forming on her cheeks, then gives a soft sigh. "I pray to the Presence that you will not bring more trouble to the land. But perhaps after you hear, you will know why you need to go."

Jaade eyes the woods warily, but listens to the Mere.

"The outsider called himself sith. That word I have heard from my studies, years ago." She frowns. "The sith arrived outside of Hearth City, our.... capital, as you would call it." The woman gestures toward the sky, "Another continent away, far far from here. He was... taken by our Confessors for questioning.... and that is all we know of his actions... until he..." She stops, searching for words. "Well, there was light, and an explosion. The southeastern part of the city was destroyed."

"Blue hell," Jaade exclaims. "A girl, was there a girl with him? Human, like me, red hair, younger."

"Our people are very upset. We are wary of outsiders as a rule. But now..." Mere Rhiann gazes at Jaade. "I do not know. This is the official report I received from the Order." She gestures at the men, "Not all the common folk have even heard. All they know, is that we are to accost and detain all outsiders." She pauses. "As we have always done."

The old woman stands. "This is why you must go. Now."

"I know you want me to stay for dinner, but I'm afraid I must go. Salvage doesn't sit in one place, it's always drifting out of sight." Jaade leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek, pressing a slim metallic disc into her hand. It is very thin, lightweight, yet incredibly hard, and the metal almost appears to shift in colors as it catches the light. Stepping onto the ramp, he keys the remote, and the lift begins to ascend. He winks at the Mere, and watches the men, hand back on his belt.

Mere Rhiann is surprised; she touches her cheek, then looks down at the disk. As the lift ascends, she calls out after Jaade in a wavery voice, "I pray that you return to the stars, outsider. To go to Hearth is to go to your death." The men have stood up and approach her. She waves with her frail hands, "The Presence is everything."

The engines on the Jaded Dream begin to fire up, drowning out his reply. "This world ain't begun to feel my presence."

Jaade slides into the cockpit, keying up the pre-flight sequence, before landing thrusters blast away at the meadow grass, lifting the ship up.

Sister Siwan breaks through the trees, eyes wide. A contingent of well-equipped soldiers follow her. They raise their blaster rifles, calling in loud voices to one another.

They shoot at the ship. The young Sister screams.

The Jaded Dream slowly rotates, blaster rifle fire snapping harmless off the hull. Glancing at GONK, Jaade looks at the Nav Computer and the swirling storms above, before spitting. "I hope the fire you started is keeping you warm Taelios, because I'm coming for you, you cold-blooded son of a bitch."

Mere Rhiann turns and walks toward the soldiers. Sister Siwan covers her ears and screams. The soldiers continue shooting upwards at the receding ship.

The Jaded Dream blasts off across the lake, and then upwards, heading not up for the stars, but across the vast ocean, towards a new land, and an old friend.

[Thrax]

The Corrupt Agenda

Part II

Part III

@Thrax  as Darth Thrax

@Esk as Captain Shilee Rhees

Quadrant I-9 - A sinister blade split the skies as it emerged from hyperspace. A single fighter, bearing a single individual, skirted the gravity well of Ialdon. Scans were being conducted - obvious sensor sweeps, seeking something unknown. Behind a veil of reinforced transparisteel that encompassed the asymmetrical ship's cockpit, a collection of seven red eyes glared out into the void. He was alone out there, in wild space - offering himself up as prey for the predators whose attention he sought. The ones that had provoked a personal response.

The ship found itself in orbit above Ialdon, the second world from the system's young sun. Asteroids swung by, weaving their chaotic course around the planet and its three moons. The fighter's scanners noted a large ship nearby in the dark of the world. A capital ship. The communication system lit up with an incoming hail. The fighter had been noticed.

 Behind the controls, Darth Thrax gave pause for a moment, intentionally. He waited, specifically until the capital ship in question reached the range of scanners of his vessel. Only once the much larger, more powerful ship had been located, did he return its hail. "You are addressing Darth Thrax. You may speak."

 A familiar voice came through. "Darth Thrax? Oh my. It's been some time, my lord. You are hailed by the Exodus as you are infringing upon our airspace. Please tell me how I can help you?"

The cyborg's head inclined. His metal claw lifted from the console of his vessel, curled around his chin. The voice is replayed from his aural receptors, over and over, until at last a match is found. Behind his mask, the dark lord's single eye narrowed. "Shilee. Or perhaps Captain Shilee is more appropriate? Request permission to come aboard. We are long overdue for a long discussion."

A moment passed in deep silence. Another asteroid flew by. Finally, the voice returned. "You have permission to dock and board, Darth Thrax. A hangar will be made accessible to you. I will see you soon."

The Exodus emerged from its perch on the dark side of the planet. It was shaped uniquely as a joining of three spheres. A multitude of lights blinked on and off, illuminating various structures. On one side of the ship, a hangar came to light, welcoming.

It wasn't long before the single-bladed starfighter hovered before the illuminated hangar, entering cautiously. Its single massive blade-like wing folded into itself and back as three landing legs emerged from beneath the central pod, supporting the vessel as it came to a halt. The transparisteel sheathe folded back into itself, and the shutters peeled back to expose the cyborg pilot. As he stepped from the fighter, mechanical tendrils linked directly into ports arrayed across his armor disconnected themselves, allowing the dark lord freedom from the mechanical womb of the cockpit. Cold mist trailed from his cloak as he stepped out onto the deck and folded his arms behind his back, awaiting his hosts.

From the hangar entrance emerged a dark skinned woman, dressed in the uniform of an Ialu Navy officer: red, crisp and pressed, with the symbol of three rings. Her hair was a shock of crimson dreadlocks that match in hue. She was accompanied by a number of soldiers, male and female, who were significantly more heavily geared. She approached the cyborg, stopping a few yards from his ship. "Darth Thrax," She smiled widely. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Is it?" The cyborg made no movements, kept his hands folded neatly behind his cloak. The red illuminations of his eyes made the rounds, inspecting the soldiers before finally falling on the auburn face of Shilee again. It had been some months since their last meeting, and now the tables had turned. The dark lord was the stranger now, the visitor. The invader. "You never did answer my question regarding your station. Is this your vessel?"

"Where are my manners?" The woman folded her arms. "Captain Shilee Rhees, now of the Exodus, at your service."
His head bobbed in her direction, his mechanical arm coming free from the lock of his left hand as he gestured to the woman, then to her guards. "Dismiss your men. We have much to discuss, you and I." As he finished, his other arm returned behind his cloak. "Much has passed between your... people and mine, and soon others will come and ask for the same answers I seek."

Shilee looked to the left and the right. The soldiers immediately stepped back, forming a corridor. "Yes, I imagine there is much to discuss, my lord. Will you please come so we can speak in a more comfortable setting?" She smiled. "Just you and me."

The cyborg's steps are plodding, his pace cautious. Ego did not allow his confidence to diminish despite being outnumbered thousands to one on a foreign vessel, captained by a woman aware of his tricks. Logic advised prudence, though. There was certainly something more to all of this, and as Thrax stepped in line with the captain, he made it a point to find out what it was. The mercurial whims of the Force had led him here, and nothing pleased the cyborg more than when he could subvert those same whims to his benefit.

The woman and the cyborg walked through the circular corridors of the ship. They passed various soldiers and shipmen, all at high alert. Shilee nodded at them, and continued on. Soon, they came to the top of one of the spheres that comprised the ship. Thrax was led into a small domed chamber, with the dome made entirely of transparisteel. The walls curved down from the transparent portion, grown over with vines. The floor was oddly soft - closer observation revealed grass. On one side of the chamber, a tiny waterfall cascaded down into a clear pool. On the opposite side, several ornate chairs had been arranged around a small table. Shilee gestured. "After you, Darth Thrax."

A warm breeze fluttered about the dark lord. His head inclined to one side, subtly. Something unseen was taking place. His frigidity diminished, replaced by neutrality and normalcy. When he stepped out onto the grass, it parted beneath his mechanical feet, pliant as normal, and when his feet left it, it remained just as green as when he'd stepped over it. The cyborg's personal winter hadn't snatched the life from it just yet. He comes to a stop before one of the ornate chairs, staring at it for a long moment before resting in it as carefully as possible. Comfort was not a concern, though to him the furniture, the setting... it all seemed awkward, out of place. Thrax was ill at ease, feeling like an acklay in a room full of ceramics, as if something was bound to break the apparent tranquility - his intent was to ensure it would not be to his detriment when it happened.

"Your aesthetics might indicate that you hold life in high regard. Curious you would come to me for weaponry, then."

Shilee studied Thrax as he made his ginger progress across the chamber, a curious expression on her face. As he sat she did so as well. "Do you speak of me? Or do you speak of something larger?"

"I would like to think that by this point, you have made yourself aware enough of me to realize that I speak of both."

Shilee's gaze strayed across the grass, resting here and there on small flowers that bloomed brightly amidst the green. "Every people has a need to protect itself, my lord, whatever their sensibilities might be."

 His tone became very pointed, harsh. "And the weapon that you or your kind unleashed. The one that afflicted my son, nearly drove him to tear himself apart with rage. The one that you utilized my technology to create." A metal claw rested to the table between the two, each tip drumming against its surface. "A preemptive method of protection? Or did another sensibility guide your people's whims?"

Returning her gaze to Thrax, Shilee frowned. "I did not know that it affected your son, my lord." She placed a hand to her chin. "It was never meant to be... a device that caused violence. As promised, we did not duplicate your prototypes. The device, as I said, was meant for protection." Shilee sat up, "Gone awry, not of our intent. And now it seems to have had the opposite effect." She laughed.

"Indeed." He leaned forth, curling his left arm across the table as well, laying his right one flat between them. "After all, here I am. And others will follow in my wake, if they have not already found their way to you." His head quirked just a bit, inclined forth as he continued, leveling his eyeline at the woman. "Just how long have your people manipulated galactic thought in order to conceal your existence?

And before you object, we are aware of the nature of the device 'gone awry', aware of its powers of mental control. I can only presume these are techniques... which your people have made liberal use of to keep yourselves hidden for so long."

Shilee folded her arms, looked up and out of the dome into the stars beyond. "Our people have been concealing our presence for millennia. At times with more sophistication than others." She smiled, "The devices are new. After all, your prototypes were only recently and dearly bought. But the Presence provides other gifts." Shilee looked down to Thrax. "What you call the Force is a gift of the Presence to us. Memories can be changed in many ways."

"We simply wish to be left alone."

 "Then the acquisition of my prototypes was merely a step toward further refinement of these techniques, these methods of control that your... Presence affords you." Slowly, the mechanical man rose to his feet and stepped easily across to Shilee, standing before her, peering down to her instead. "But the Force, the Presence... is not benign. It is not simply a fact of this galaxy - it has a will, and that is what has manipulated me here, and you there, here and now. A consciousness that controls, rids you of your freedom." He craned his head forward, tone quieting as he continued. "My weapons remove this control, remove the shackles of the Presence. And you may consider that freedom to be a gift from myself."

 Shilee smiled up at Thrax. "Yes, the Presence has a will. And perhaps these happenings do fall within Her will, as you say, and are -Her- gift. But She is not impersonal. She is a person, and my people believe that Her blessings will always rest with us. Everything and nothing will come in the end." She paused, gazing at the looming cyborg. "But no matter. I understand that you follow different beliefs, Darth Thrax."

"And of course, you have also considered the possibility, then..." Thrax's arms shifted to fold over his chest. "... that these same devices, the same methods your people utilize to conceal yourselves are also utilized to keep your people controlled and regulated in much the same way?"

"The people do not always know what is best for them, my lord. You yourself should know that." Shilee stood as well, shoulders thrown back, leveling her gaze at the cyborg. "Those to whom the Presence entrusts great power also have great responsibility. The herds must be guided to the pasture."

"I have seen your herds, yes... I have seen the way you congregate in the halls of this ship with your weapons, your armor. I have seen the fear in them." He took a step toward the woman and lowered his chin to stare at her with all seven eyes. "I seek the shepherd that put it there. And in you as well."

Shilee returned the gaze, steadily. Her dreadlocks quivered with her breathing. "Darth Thrax, you mean to say that you seek an audience with our leader?" She smiled.

The cyborg's left hand - the gloved, organic hand - reached out to curl at the woman's chin, tipping it slightly upward as he continued. "That depends. Is the leader of your planet also the master of your people? Do you know it with a certainty, or is it what you were made to believe?"

Lifting her hand to brush Thrax's aside, Shilee replied, "She is the shepherdess of her herd. As I am of mine."

"Hm." The Sith's fingers unfurled as they were cast away, shifting easily to fold at his back to join the mechanical claw that comprised his other hand. "I am a being of veils and shadows and... masks, Captain. Besides the comfort this affords me, it has also made me adept at seeing beneath such things." He cast his mechanical gaze about the atrium, then began to step across to a vine hanging loosely close by. The left hand rose to curl about the end of the plant, which began to wilt beneath its touch - its life force, sapped away by the dark lord, drained slowly and painfully. "All I see before me is artifice - yourself included, Captain. Take me to the one that lives, the one that controls. The one person on your world that is free."

Shilee stared at the vine, arms at her sides. "She is not available at your whim, Darth Thrax. But an audience can be petitioned for." The vine continued to wilt. "You understand that as a visitor, even your presence in this chamber is a privilege. I can promise nothing."

His infection spread, unceasing. The veins of the vine filled with black, clogged with corruption, which spread out along the stem toward the source, seeking others roots to empty of life. Thrax lifted his head, then peered sidelong to Shilee. "Fortunately, I had the foresight to prepare a petition well in advance."

On the edge of the system, a great jagged assembly of twisted steel made its presence known, dropping out of hyperspace well within sensor range of the capital ship. It seethed with the same violet energies as the Force-harvesting prototypes that the woman had seen before, the ultimate culmination of the same principle. It thrummed with dark life, a fetid carcass bloated with destructive power. Thrax turned to face Shilee fully now. "You may bring my request to your matriarch. I shall await your answer aboard my ship, the Scarred Heart. Is this acceptable?"

She passed a hand over her eyes, pressing a palm to her chest. Lifting her eyes, Shilee stared out of the dome at the smudge of corruption that blotted out the stars. "So it seems, my lord."

[Cordae]

For context, see "Scalded" by @Lolermelon and @Esk


[With another successful business deal to secure yet more vital and prosperous trading partners for his homeworld of Erini concluded, AMBASSADOR CORDAE KEYIS and his contingent of Throneguardsmen, Erini’s royal security prepare to leave for home.

However, not all is as it seems. A strange EXPLOSION rips through the southwest quadrant of HEARTH, Ialdon’s capital city, not far from where Cordae’s ship the Reclusiarch has landed…

Friendly Fire
@Cordae as Cordae Keyis, and the Throneguards Viqtor, Uli, Hondr, and MkTass
@Esk as everyone else

The Hearth City starport looms before Cordae and his retinue, an intricate construction of blue durasteel strung into arcs. As they approach the entrance, there is a bright flash of light behind them, and loud noise, like drums, like a roar. The prince and his throneguards are thrown forward onto the blue flatstone ground.

Cordae jerks his head around at the strange light, but is aggressively tackled to the ground by two of his Throneguards. After a moment, dazed, Cordae looks up. His eyes fly around, trying to figure out what happened. He looks back at the two offending Throneguards. "Y'know, I was wondering if you guys would be able to do that..."

Two other Throneguards get up off of their backs, one man kneeling and surveying the area from which the blast came, the other kneeling to speak with Cordae. "Your Highness, it's no longer safe here. We have to move." Cordae squints at the man.

"No longer safe? I'm sure it's just an accident, for feth's sake."

As they get to their feet, a scene of devastation greets them. Below the hill of the starport, the entire southeastern portion of Hearth City has been leveled, blown apart. Smoke and dust linger in the air, blown by the sea winds toward them, carrying with it the scent of burning and of charred flesh. Very quickly, Cordae and his Throneguards accumulate a fine layer of blue dust on their clothing. The sound of alarms and wails of the bereaved begin to drift across the city. Groups of guards in heavy army run past them, ignoring their presence, toward the ruins below.

Cordae blinks, getting to his feet. He sniffs, shallow at first, trying to discern toxicity or any known tell-tale gas signs, but then breathes fully...In a flash, he is transported back a decade to the Resurgence War, a time of wails, ash, and burning. He subconsciously wets his lips, a trick he'd been taught during the trench fights - certain chemicals used in that war reacted instantly with saliva. He turns to his men.

"We need to help them," he says decisively.

One of the Throneguards shakes his head. "No fething way, sir. Not a chance. We need to get you off of this rock." Another chimes in.

"This isn't up for negotiation, your highness. We're getting on that ship."

Cordae looks between the two men and adopts a deadly serious demeanor - fists clenched and eyes leveled. "Then you're going to have to drag me and this time, I know you're coming."

The two men, not small themselves by any means, trade looks. The one on the right sighs. "Just..." He looks at Cordae. "Wear a goddamned helmet, would you?"

Cordae gazes at the man, nods sharply, and pats the side of the Throneguard's helmet with his meaty hands. "Good man," Cordae says as he strides off toward his ship. After ten or so minutes, he tramps down the loading ramp decked in his augmented power armor. The massive suit actually manages to make Cordae look even larger, if only slightly, and is equipped with hydraulic support and other types of miscellanea. He nods at his men as he dons his helmet, the HUD flashing briefly. "Let's go."

The streets of Hearth City are chaotic as they make their way toward the site of the explosion. Children dash between their feet, screaming. People rush in a throng toward them and past them, some ducking into alleys, doorways, windows, shutting and locking behind them. Here and there, heavily armored guards attempt to direct the flow of movement, but they are overwhelmed.

They soon come to an area where there are none living, except those who came to aid. Charred corpses are scattered among the rubble. The air is hot with the stink of the dead and of broken masonry.

Cordae and his men double-time it back toward the ruined city section. As he runs, Cordae makes a mental note to thank his security detail for making him wear a helmet. A small section of his HUD shows his helmet's air-scrubbers are working overtime to deal with the foreign blue dust and other toxic haze elements. He looks around, trying to use his augmetic eye's thermal recognition to spot any trapped civilians among rubble or such....but finds, eerily, nothing.

"This can't be right. We're probably on the terminus of the thing, but there -have- to be -some- survivors." He tries to flag down one of the guards he noticed earlier. "Hey! Dunin!" He yells, waving at a guard. "I...Uh..." Cordae racks his brain trying to remember the basic tenets of Ialu that he'd read on the trip over....But quickly gives up at the task. He rips his helmet off.

"Cordae Keyis! Pax Erinii! Can, we, help?" he offers, falling pray to that old trick of trying to transcend language barriers by speaking slow and loudly.

While their leader tries to flag someone down, several of the Throneguard attempt to help out where they can. One tries to free a child from an overturned produce cart, but the Throneguard's black armor mixed with the horror of what has happened earns only terrified screams. He thrusts his hands up in surrender and backs off.

The child continues to scream, punctuating the cries with calls in Ghel'fyd, the language of the Ialu. In the distance, other searchers also call out, their voices mixing with Cordae's and with the screams of the child. The smoke continues to be thick, and farther in, the ground appears to sink into the slope of a crater.

"Oh, feth this," he curses derisively, wrenching the helmet back on. He immediately runs toward the crater. Meanwhile, his men continue trying to do what they can in the main area. One runs off after Cordae, but the other three go about dispensing first aid. Two of them try to wave at the child, trying to calm it, but eventually decide to do things "the Throneguard way" - they shrug silently to each other, then lift the produce cart, allowing the child to run screaming away if it chooses.

The girl is curled up in a ball, hugging her knees tightly. Her robes... what remains of them, are orange in color. Her hair is long and braided, wrapped around her body. She screams again when she sees the Throneguards, making a sideways lurching motion toward a long, mangled piece of metal that had been resting outside the cart.

The jagged, newly-serrated metal juts forward and scrapes off of the Throneguard's thigh-plate with an ear-rending metallic screech. The man jumps in surprise, then rests part of the cart on his shoulder and rips the make-shift spear out of the small child's hand. "Saints alive, girl..." He tosses the spear away, then pushes his helmet 3/4ths of the way up his head, showing his eyes and face. "Zhed! Zhed, for feth's sake. Uh....Irash?" He looks over at his counterpart. "Irash?" he asks questioningly.

The other man shakes his head and makes a consonantal sound. “Zhd. Not ‘sh’. Irazhd," he says softly, almost elegantly as he turns to the girl, trying to get her out form under the cart.

The girl looks at the Throneguards for a moment, studying the face of the one man. Finally, she nods at him. "Irazhd." She tries to get up on her own, but her leg appears to be broken. She cries out.

The man with the lifted mask winces. "Ah, dammit. Uli, help me with this." The man on the other side of the cart nods. They both crouch, and after a bit of grunting, thrust the cart aside with a wooden bang. The first man, Viqtor, kneels and studies the manner of the limb's wound.

The lower left leg has been crushed, with bone sticking out from the skin. The girl holds out both arms toward Viqtor. "Irazhd," she says again. She appears to be holding out better than would be expected, for the extent of her injury.

Viqtor looks up at Uli. "There's no way we're treating that here, in all this feth with the dust flyin' around."

"What, you're thinking..." Viqtor nods. Uli stares back at him, his expression hidden by the helmet.

"...Goddamn you, you're going to get us arrested or shot or something."

"Yeah, yeah." Uli goes about trying to see if she's wounded elsewhere while Viqtor begins to fashion a make-shift litter out of a downed awning and some wood. He kicks one of the cart's hand-spars off and uses it as part of the frame, then lays the litter near the girl. He and Uli stand on either side of her, count off, then as carefully as possible, they try to transfer her.

The girl appears to understand what they're trying to do. She holds very still in the process, her jaws clenched and her face pale. Once she is on the litter. She points at the mangled piece of metal that Viqtor had tossed away, insistent, "Datala. Isa." She points at herself, then at the metal once more.

Viqtor stares down at the girl. "What the feth...?" he drawls, trying to figure out what the girl is saying. He looks back and forth between the girl and the metal spar. Cursing, he goes back for the spear and carries it flush with the stretcher's handles. Uli and Viqtor lift the stretcher, then attempt to whisk the girl away toward the ENV Reclusiarch with its onboard medical facility.

 Meanwhile, one Throneguard, a short man named MkTass is behind in the main area, leaving Cordae and the final Throneguard named Hondr to run toward the people that slipped into the crater.

The smoke is thicker around the crater. The slope is steep, lined with blue stone upon light colored soil, though mostly everything is charred. Here and there, sparks of violet remain, fizzing, leaping. Cordae steps on a doll, and it crumbles under his foot. More charred bodies rest in the ground, some with flesh entirely stripped from bone, others encased in power armor that has melted to the flesh. Objects waft in and out of view, distorted from their original shapes. The epicenter of the crater still lies ahead.

Cordae and Hondr stand at the lip of the crater.

"Okay...So, one, avoid the eldritch purple lightning....and, two, search for survivors?" Hondr asks.

"Go, do what you can. And, yes, keep away, well away from any Force fethery."

Hondr nods and hops into crater to check on some of the power-armored guards, mostly to see if they're even alive or, barring that, if they have any in-tact ident-tags. Cordae looks around, then opens a comm channel to the Reclusiarch.

"Pannig, Sutra, Bolemew, you're about to get incoming, I think. Lots. Some kind of explosion was set off in part of the city. My detail and I are in it looking for survivors. Go on usual crisis protocol, but keep the surgeries out of the dust...It's, uh, heavy. Dust contaminant. Keyis out." Cordae looks around, trying to find somewhere he could be of use.

The guards are most definitely dead, despite their very well made power armor. Whatever it was that caused the explosion, there was heat enough even to melt their flame-resistant coatings. Pulling off a helmet reveals flesh that is baked, then melted. Most of the ident-tags are unrecognizable, though a few could be recovered. As the smoke momentarily clears before his eyes, Cordae could see some kind of movement down in the crater itself, though it is not near the rim, but farther in.

Cordae tilts his head. "Hondr, back up..." Hondr looks back up at Cordae midway through collecting a handful of ident-tags from several of the bodies.

"What do you see?"

Cordae squints. "I have no idea...Stay near the lip." Hondr looks down at the several bodies whose tags have yet to be serviced, then back at Cordae. He shrugs and backs off, sticking to the lip of the crater straddling the edge.

The movement appears to be coming -toward- them, attracted by the noise. The smoke and dust thickened once more, such that though movement could be detected, it is hard to tell what -exactly- is moving.

"...Hondr, get the feth out now!" Cordae yells quickly, turning to run for cover. Hondr curses, stuffing some tags into a breast-webbing patch, then clambers out of the crater.

Over the cries and the alarms and the wails in the distance, Cordae begins to make out a sound, coming from the crater itself. It appears to be a dragging noise, scraping. The smoke is still thick.

Hondr vaults over a pile of destroyed rebar. "Yup, feth that altogether!" he cries, the scraping, burrowing sounds somehow more unnerving to the combat veteran than the wails of dying innocents. Cordae tries to get the attention of some of the Ialu guards, waving his massive, armored arms.

Finally, something could be seen more clearly amid the smoke. It appears to be a mass of hair, orange, and charred limbs. It continues dragging itself toward the rim of the crater. Much closer now, and looking more like a creature, a Force-addled beast than anything.

Cordae's waving gets the attention of a guard who was a good many paces away. He begins to approach, blaster rifle raised.

Hondr's heartbeat skyrockets as what appears to be the embodiment of a nightmare comes shambling out of the crater. In his scramble to get his las-rifle aimed at the thing, he forcefully snaps his shoulder strap, but brings the rifle to bear, firing in tight groups. Cordae whips his head around toward Hondr, about to reprimand him, then sees the Thing appear. He hesitates, then pulls a small holdout blaster kept in a thigh-holster. He’s about to fire, but sees the guard approach with his blaster raised and waits.

The guard makes his way to Cordae and Hondr. He is dressed the same power armor that was seen on the charred corpse below. He speaks brokenly, "Stop. You! Not allowed here." He raises the blaster rifle at them briefly, before spinning to point it at the scraping, dragging, down below.

"It just crawled out of a blast crater that leveled an entire city ward! Would you arrest me after it's dead!" Cordae yells, sticking to cover.

Meanwhile, back at the Reclusiarch, it appears as though Cordae's ship's medical bay has been gutted and deposited in the area just in front of his ship. A Throneguard is standing outside and a ways away, directing injured and such toward it.

A moan issues from the mass of hair and charred limbs. It attempts to stand up, to scrabble and crawl up the side of the slope. As it stretches, charred bits of orange fall off its limbs, and a barely humanoid shape can be seen. It scratches a few times, then topples over, groaning.

Cordae shouts a ceasefire order then glances at the guard. "Uh...Zhed?" he asks in disbelief.

The guard looks down for a moment, then slowly, very slowly, lowers his blaster rifle. He nods at Cordae. "Yes. Zhed." He points at the creature. "She is."

The figure simply lies at the rim of the crater, groaning, its strength spent.

Cordae does a double-take at the guard. "You've got to be...Goddamnit." He looks at Hondr. "Fething...see what you can do for it." He looks back at the soldier. "Friend or foe?" he asks.

"Friend!" He bends down, and slides down into the crater itself, heading for the charred figure.

Cordae chucks his pistol into the dirt, cursing fluently. He pulls a vial of curative from a belt hold and rushes after the man, intent on trying to undo some of the damage he'd done.

The guard approaches the figure, bending down to slide his arms under her. He turns to look at Cordae. "Hurt."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Hondr! Polearm!" Hondr looks up from his cover, somehow managing to look confused despite the featureless armored helmet.

"Y-…you're not supposed to know that co-...you're hurt?"

"No, not me, dammit, for the...for that! And give me your aid pack." Hondr hesitates, then fishes an aid back from his back webbing and throws it.

"Sir, we can't-"

"DO IT!" Cordae sticks the creature with the general curative syrette. Hondr curses, then speaks over his helmet comm. Off in the distance, the sound of a speeder can be heard. It approaches Cordae's position from far off, closing quickly as Cordae tries to help the thing.

The guard allows Cordae to help the figure. He stands and begins to speak into the commlink. The figure groans and moves her arm. The mass of hair shifts, black and frayed. Now, she nearly looks human. Nearly.

The speeder flies toward the epicenter, skidding to a halt. Two figures barely wait for the craft to stop before they jump off and haul out what appears to be an entire crash kit and other miscellaneous, if very compact, medical supplied. They attempt to get going on Cordae, but are quickly and loudly redirected toward the creature Cordae is next to. They are clearly hesitant, but execute their craft with the skill of seasoned medical professionals. Unarmored, they are no Throneguards, but veteran medicae sworn to royal service.

The medics quickly recognize the figure as a woman who has been burned severely. How she survived is unclear. But what is clear that not much further can be done for her in the field. She needs to get to more sophisticated help, and quickly.

Following in the wake of the speeder, more Ialu city guards arrive, bringing with them their own medics, who are dressed in long robes of orange. They call to one another in Ghel'fyd, pouring down into the crater.

One of the Erinian medics in his long duster pooled around his feet, recognizing the dire nature of this woman's situation, shouts into a micro-bead headset as he begins to apply counterseptic and Erinian-kolto-laced bandages. Hard won from a bit of shrewd negotiation, this kolto formula, though of foreign make, was perfected in Erinian labs and went directly into high-end medical supplies. The Erinian speeder up top begins to move toward the lip of the crater while Cordae tries to hail one of the medics, hopefully someone with authority.

"I have a hospital! I have aid! I can aid her, or you can take my ship" he yells, pointing at the speeder, "to your aid!"

One of the medics in orange robes approaches Cordae. "You have a hospital, in your ship?" She looks back at the figure. "Yes. Please take her there. Soon!" Cordae's commlink suddenly flashes and beeps.

Cordae ignores his comm-link, focusing on the medic. "Feth, you speak basic. Thank every saint. Yes, yes, I do. On my ship! Who is she?”

“She's a Confessor, we think. The Confessors had an enclave here."

“Can I fly her to Erini if I need to? To save her life?"

The medic looks at Cordae. "Fly her to Erini?" She frowns, then starts speaking in Ghel'fyd once more to the other medics and guards.

"Either that, or give me a hospital here, man."

"Our hospitals are full. But she is important." The medic turns back. "You must be the Ambassador from Erini. The North Hospital is at your disposal. Follow us." The Ialu medics work with Cordae's medics to secure the woman onto a stretcher, and then onto a vehicle.

"Cordae Keyis." He nods. "Well met, and all that. Hondr!" he yells, turning toward his security. "Mount up! We're following-" Cordae suddenly doesn't know why he's telling -Hondr- where they're going. He taps his microbead and raises the speeder pilot. "Follow the Ialu! This cargo must live. No exceptions.” He looks up at the pilot from down in the crater, grabbing eye-contact. “Do what you need to.” The pilot stares at him, then nods, slipping back into the steering pod.

The Throneguardsmen and the royal doctors help where they can, careful to let the Ialu run the show when needed but adding their expertise to the chaos. The entire group, Erinians and Ialu, speed off toward the hospital, passing further scenes of death and devastation. Cordae's commlink beeps again.

Cordae suddenly finds himself in the middle of a bomb crater amid almost total silence where once there was no end to chaos and din. He looks around, the wails of injury now only slightly audible, then looks down at his comm-link. He blinks, then taps it, opening the line.

"This is Cordae."

"Ambassador Cordae," A familiar voice speaks, "This is Brother Therem. Are you safe? Where are you? I am told you have not yet left the world."

Cordae stares at the holo-image of Therem in his hands, slightly slackjawed. He quickly regains his composure, however. "Ah, yes. No, we have not left. There was an explosion, here in Hearth. We...I sent my security detail into the city to....er, help. To help your people's efforts. There's an aid station outside my ship in the starport. There's also....someone with the title of Confessor being rushed to "North Hospital." Cordae's tone is direct, as if years of soldiery were falling out of his mouth along with his speech.

A moment of silence. "Presence preserve... We are indebted to your kindness, Prince Cordae." The hologram of Therem passes a hand over his eyes, then presses the palm to his chest. "But please, if you are in the disaster zone, I ask that you remove yourself. If anything untoward were to happen to you, I do not think it would appear in Ialdon's favor."

Cordae nods, words buzzing around in his head like stinging flies. "Er...yes. I think I know a bit of what you mean...Brother, some of my men have gone to the North Hospital with your medical teams. I'm about to go there as well. Could we speak there?"

"I will make it there as I can, Prince Cordae. I will send my runners to find you ahead of time, and to guide you." Therem sighs. "It seems that I will have to learn of your experience much sooner than I expected. May the Presence preserve us all." His hologram bows, then fades from view.

Cordae nods his goodbye, then stares at the holo-comm for a few seconds, gaze out of focus. He hefts the comm unit several times before reattaching it to his belt via magnetic block-clip. He exhales sharply, face rent with worry and dread as he takes five seconds to contemplate the feth he has found himself in. Fighting back the beginnings of tears, shaking vigorously, he takes a deep breath and retrieves his helmet. "I swear to God, if I come out of this like the fething Empire..." He activates his armor's jump jets and exits the crater, then makes his way to North Hospital...

Next: Friendly Fire: Part II

[Orell]

Happy Landings
@Orell as Doctor Kyri Orell
@Esk as Corwyn and Aeron Rhua, asteroids, and very impolite birds

In the Kolto Express, in Hyperspace...

Kyri stared down at her patient, going over his wounds again. A half dozen scatter-gun flechettes she had to dig out of his flesh, not to mention the whole impalement with a vibroblade... what was worse was that his pulse was weak, barely holding steady. The Kolto would keep him alive, for now at least, but he needed a real hospital, not a flying sick bay.

She looks up as the ship shudders, the alarms in the too-far-away cockpit blaring. She covered the patient with a blanket before racing off to the controls, her jaw dropping. "...wot tha... nononono, I... I calculated it right, I know I did, kriff, please don' tell me tha navi kriffed things up..."

The Kolto Express crashes out of Hyperspace, not over Coruscant as she had planned, but far off-course... somewhere. The Doctor turned pilot grabbed the controls, scanning around, trying to figure out where her typo had taken her.

The Kolto Express was -in- a system, at least. The star is a young one, bright and fiery, orbited by four planets. The first is scorched by the fierce young sun; far too close for most living things. But the second... the second is adorned by clouds, and what appears to be oceans. It would be a hard approach, however. A scatter of asteroids orbit the planet in intricate patterns, woven by its three moons.

Kyri's shoulders slumped at the readout, but another klaxon caught her eye. The Express was low on fuel before jumping in the first place, and at this point it was not running on fumes. She could stay on the ship for a while, but if help took too long to get there... it would get very cold indeed.

She scrambled over to the copilot seat, dropping a Hyperspace beacon and setting it to transmit a basic SOS signal every hour, before sliding back into the pilots seat, making her way, on low power, towards the only inhabitable planet, opening up her short range comms.

An asteroid swings by, close to the ship.

Kyri yelps, over-dodging the rock before steadying her course. "This is Doctor Kyri Orell of the civilian medical vessel Kolto Express, contacting... kriff, anyone that's around. My ship went off course, and I am out of fuel. I have a patient in critical condition aboard, and am willing to purchase enough fuel to make it to a proper refueling station... anyone out there?"

The Kolto Express's scanners show a capital ship on the other side of the planet, and near it, a large vessel emanating a great deal of energy... but dark, like a corruption against the stars. Kyri's ship begins to make its way into the atmosphere, and electrical storms strike the ship's hull.

Kyri blinks as the ship comes onto her scanners, pulling up eagerly as she tries to make for it instead of an impromptu landing... leading her right into the path of the lightning strike, hitting the much maligned Express right in the center. The ship's systems and engines entirely cut out, and it spins down toward the strange world.

Kyri screams out as the engines cut out and the power fails, buckling herself into the seat before she gets flung out of it, hitting the console, desperately trying to reactive the ship or the engines or SOMETHING before she makes a very large crater in the world below.

The viewport shows sea, then sky, then sea, then sky, then land, then sea, then sky. When the waves upon the shore could almost be seen clearly, the engines restart themselves.

By the time the engines kicked back on, Kyri could almost pass for a Mirialan with an odd dye job... but she manages to hold her lunch in and hauls on the stick, pulling herself out of the death spiral into a comparatively clean, but still inelegant in the extreme, heavy landing on the beach, the shock of the sudden stop slamming her body down into the chair. "........ow..."

Outside, the waves batter against the ship, which had dug a deep track into the sands of the shore. The beach extends for a good distance uphill, and then... tall grasslands. Winged creatures fly about on the beach, disturbed by the ship's very rough landing.

She frees herself from the pilots seat, weakly standing and awkwardly stumbling back towards the sickbay, her subconscious mind reminding her legs about the patient in poor condition... before being in a crash landing while not strapped in.

By the time she makes it to the sickbay, her head's back in the game... and her shoulders slump, seeing the... clearly no longer alive patient. "...kriff... sorry, Mick." She turns away, ignoring the pain in her back as she heads back to the cockpit.

She hits the comm, again sending out a general message on all frequencies. "...this is Doctor Kyri Orell again. I've crashed landed on the second planet in this system. My patient... Mick didn't survive the landing... not sure if my ship did either. Please, anyone around?"

The waves continue to wash against the ship. The winged creatures, seeing no movement from the ship, slowly begin to settle on top of the hull, screeching and crying out for their destroyed nests. It seems if anyone heard the communications, they aren't replying.

Kyri looks out the cockpit window, staring at a bird that could only be staring at her. "............uh...... sorry?"

The bird sees movement, and flies off, up and towards the grasslands above.

She sighs and turns away from the bird, setting the ship to what passed for sleep mode. The comm needed to stay on, maybe someone would see the beacon... but she needed to figure out where she crash landed. According to the computer, the ship would stay active for a while like this, at least...

She headed back to her quarters, stepping over debris as she changed out of her medical scrubs and into the more practical combat gear, strapping on the blaster, holdout and stealth belt... just in case. She at least remembered to take care of Mick's body, sealing it away in her ship's small morgue before heading to the airlock, trying not to think about things right now... "...focus, get tha info, know wot's happenin', then... then ya ken freak out..."

She lowered the ramp and stepped outside, looking around... dimly aware that she might be stepping out onto a world no one's ever seen before...

The sand is soft beneath Kyri's feet. Appears to be typical silica sand. Birds fly overhead. One relieves itself onto Kyri's shoulder. A sea wind blows over Kyri and up the beach onto the grassy bluffs.

She glares up at the bird, hand twitching towards the blaster, before setting off towards the grassy bluffs, dimly remembering that bit of a survivalist textbook about finding high ground so you can look around properly.

As Kyri climbs over the bluff, wide grasslands greet her sight, and to the east, mountains rising high. There's a tremor to the ground that does not appear to match with the washing of the waves below. Before long, she sees figures in the distance.

Kyri squints her eyes before drawing her heavy blaster, the scope on it providing at least a small measure of magnification, puzzled by what here could be moving with the sound of a freight elevator...

Within the sight of her blaster, Kyri sees the figures larger. There appear to be people, dark and tan skinned, riding on four legged creatures with spiral horns and long, flowing manes. A few of the people flank a great herd of the creatures, guiding and goading them. The noise rises louder. The herd is heading straight for Kyri.

Kyri stares at the stampede, her shoulders slumping. ".......sure... of course they are..." She starts running, knees protesting at the sudden exertion, trying to get away from the stampeding herd's path.

The herd approaches quickly, clearly seen now without need of magnification. Well before they reach the edge of the bluffs, the riders guide the creatures around, and then slowly, to a stop. A few of the riders remain with the herd as the creatures begin to graze. The other riders, who had led the herd, ride towards Kyri, chasing after her. They call out with deep voices that ring across the tall grasses.

Kyri slows and stops, gasping for breath but waving a hand, putting her blaster away. "...hello! Uh... ya... un'erstand me?"

The two riders stops before Kyri, flanking her on each side. The four-legged creatures snort and grunt, pawing at the ground. One of the riders, a woman with black dreadlocks, speaks up. "I know your language, yes." She studies Kyri carefully. The other rider, a man with close-shaven head and tattoos on his cheek, remains silent.

Kyri relaxes, laughing nervously. "...thank kriff... I'm Doctor Kyri Orell. My, uh, ship kinda crashed here. I wos off course, outta fuel, needed ta land somewhere... um, who're ya?"

"I am Corwyn Rhua, Mirchee." The woman places points at herself. She points at the man on the other side of Kyri. "He is Aeron Rhua, Mirchee. We guide the same herd and are bonded." She pauses. "And you have come to us from the stars. I heard your transmission."

"...bonded means married, yah? An'... well, yeah. Sorta. Come from another planet, really, an' then from space... din't really spend a lotta time near any stars cos they kind do terrible stuff to a-" Kyri cuts herself off, smiling weakly. "...sorry, babblin'. Do, uh, you guys know where I ken get some fuel or somethin'? Maybe a repair crew too?"..

Corwyn dismounts, patting the horned creature on the back. From her saddlebags, she retrieves some compacted knots of grain matted with a sticky syrup. The creature sticks out its tongue and licks it up, chewing with great white teeth. Corwyn turns back toward Kyri. "There is no fuel here, near the sea. I can take you to our village, where we have fuel for the landspeeders." She considers for a moment. "But I am not sure you will like to do that."

Aeron remains mounted, silent. His black eyes bore into Kyri.

Kyri glances at Aeron nervously, before looking back to Corwyn, the ominous nature of the conversation overriding her urge to stare at the horsey. "...uh... why do ya think that?"

"Our laws say that as an outsider, you must stay." Corwyn gazes down the bluffs toward the shore. "And that you must turn off your communications to the outside world." She turns her gaze back to Kyri. "If you come with us for fuel, you -will- be staying."

Kyri blinks, then looks at Aeron. ".......tha's a joke, righ'? I mean... I'd be willin' ta trade stuff... ya cannae really mean ya'd make me a prisoner...?"

Corwyn replies, "If you agree to stay among us, you would not be a prisoner." Aeron continues staring at Kyri, unblinking. His mount paws at the ground.

She shakes her head. "...I can't do that. I got friends, family up there. I help you guys, you help me, I leave... win win all 'round, yah?"

The woman with dreadlocks smiles. "How do you think we can help you?" Her mount is beginning to stray, grazing farther and farther away from her. She pays it no mind.

Kyri returns the smile, tinged with nervousness. "...like ya said, fuel. Just need enough ta make a short jump, then I ken get outta yer hair!"

"And how can you help us?" Corwyn folds her arms.

She shrugs. "I'm a doctor. You know the word, right? I help the sick and injured. I've got supplies, know-how, some field tech. Unless yer gonna tell me you got no one sick or hurt in yer village..." Kyri looks at the livestock and sorta-horses. "...an' its been a while since my xeno trainin', but lotta my trainin' an' tech's useful fer dealin' with animals too."

Aeron speaks to Corwyn. His voice is a low rumble, mouthing strange words. Corwyn replies in the same the language. Aeron turns again toward Kyri. He speaks to her, making a pointing motion at her chest.

Kyri blinks, then looks at Corwyn. "...wot'd he say?"

Corwyn is silent for a moment. "Healers for the mirch, we have plenty. But healers for people, we have fewer. Our Mere died some months ago. The Order is sending another. In the mean time, I, Sister Corwyn, guide our people. But I am a herdswoman. I am not healer, like Mere Delyth." She pauses. "Our child -is- sick. He asks if you can heal her."

Kyri blinks at Corwyn, hesitating briefly. "...I can't tell without seeing her first. Sickness... it ain't always simple." She sighs. "...but if you ask me to, I promise I will do whatever I can to help her. I... wish I could promise more, Sister Corwyn."

Corwyn whistles at her mirch, which trots over to her easily. She mounts up, "I can make no promises to you either. Once you are seen in the village, you will be known by many herds. Then, I can not longer pretend you did you exist. But I will speak on your behalf, should you heal my daughter."

She waves and calls out to her shepherds. One of them rides over with a saddled mirch. Corwyn looks to Kyri, "Do you ride?"

Kyri blinks, then looks at the mirch, then back at Corwyn. "...uh, never ridden anythin' livin' before, no..."

Corwyn speaks to Aeron, who laughs in a deep rumble. He replies to Corwyn, gesturing at the saddled mirch.

"...wot's so funny?"

Corwyn explains, "Aeron is the riding instructor of the five herds. He tells me to teach you to ride as the young ones would. Get on and hold on. That is your only job. And we will herd you home."

Kyri glances at Aeron, before trying to mount the saddled beast... very much like how a woman that grew up on a giant city-planet would. "...that don't sound so funny..."

Aeron dismounts from his mirch, walking up to Kyri. He shows her his hands to indicate no harm, then he gives her a boost onto her mount, which shifts slightly, but makes no other movement or noise. Then he mounts up, and along with Corwyn, begins to guide Kyri back to the herd.

Corwyn rides next to Kyri. She asks, "So do we have an agreement?"

Kyri blushes as she's helped up onto the animal, but nods firmly at Corwyn. "Of course. An'... if it helps tha others at all, if there's others that are hurt bad or sick... I became a doctor because I like helping people get better. I ain't one to turn people that need help away."

Corwyn nods, her dreadlocks quivering, then she and Aeron spurs the three steeds on. The herd also begins to move, rumbling away from shore. The shepherds ride among them, voices calling high.

Continues in Someone Call for a Doctor?

[Darak]

How not to practice Diplomacy
With Captain Darak
Thanks to Esk, who not only played the scene with me, but then reminded me of all my mistakes.

The crew of the Homecoming was on alert. They were two minutes from exiting Hyperspace. The Captain had briefed the bridge crew on the full plan, but the rest of the crew was still largely in the dark. The fighter crews were told to stay away from the port hangar bay. No one questioned their orders. Captain, the older members would say, always knows what he's doing.

They dropped out of Hyperspace behind one of Ialdon's moons, then began to head toward the planet at full speed. They recieved a transmission from an unidentified capital ship. Tamare Bleak, the young communication officer, looked from her station toward the Captain. He was standing by the tactical officer, wearing his pressurized space suit, with helmet attached. He looked over at Tamare and nodded. She opened the channel. "This is the independent cruiser Homecoming, What do you require?

"Hailing incoming cruiser Homecoming. You are encroaching on the sovereign airspace of this world. Please cease your approach, or face protective measures."

The Captain gave Tamare a signal as he passed her station, headed for the door. He broke into a run, heading toward the port hangar bay. His suit was still connected to the comm feed.

"This is Homecoming, requesting confirmation of Jurisdiction." She paused, then added "Who are you?"

"You are under our jurisdiction in this airspace. If you approach without knowledge of our identity, then you have no business being present. Again, we request that you cease your approach."

The Capital ship moved toward the cruiser, It's triangle of entwined spheres turning toward the Homecoming.

"I...I have been ordered to request a meeting for my captain with the leader of your intelligence community. We have information that should interest her."

"This is the third time you have ignored warnings to cease your approach. Protective measures engaging. Apologies, Homecoming."

Well at least that was polite, he thought as his pod with 4 dozen identical pods were shot out the hangar toward the planets surface. He was basically flying blind, no radar and minimal visibility. All available space had been given for engines and shielding. The other pods were manned by simple droids, programmed to intercept any hostile fire. His pod shook as one after another of the other pods were shot down by local pilots. the droids split up to draw their fire. Darak caught a glimpse of the formation coming from the planet and scoffed. Three of his pilots could have shredded any ten of theirs. He was suddenly glad he didn't have radar. It just would have depressed him.

As his Pod hit the atmosphere, he closed his eyes. The Homecoming was probably free of the system by now, with no casualties he hoped. He felt the shock as the two pods flanking him were destroyed, then once more as his pod rammed into the water. His safety harness groaned, but held. By the time the pod resurfaced, it was surrounded by hovering fighters. He hit a button to fire a distress flare, then opened the hatch, holding his hands up in surrender. So far, so good, he thought.

A transport soon arrived, and two soldiers jumped out hovering over him. "Do not move. You will be taken into custody."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Say, what are you're interrogation rooms like?"

They didn't answer, instead hovering over to place restraints on his hands and feet, then lifting him into the transport. They placed him behind a force field, and stood guard. Seeing that these two weren't going to talk to him, he waited, observing his surroundings. Soon, a woman emerged, dressed in a colorful robe. She stepped forward and they stared at one another. Finally she asked "I don't suppose you will tell me what manner of creature you are?"

Darak pondered "Who me? I'm a fighter pilot, ma'am. And I suppose I'm also a concerned citizen of the galaxy."

"That you would be a fighter pilot is believable. But a concerned citizen... What is it that you're concerned about?"

"Independence." Darak was enjoying this game "I'm concerned for the continued existence of independent systems in this galaxy."

The woman seemed, for a moment, to be genuinely surprised, but quickly hid it. "Hm." The transport appears to have landed. From a tiny viewport,  Darak saw some red sand. "Your ship above did not seem to care for the sovereignty or the lives of this independent world, but your concern, fighter pilot, is appreciated."

"Lives? We didn't use lethal force..." Darak pondered for a moment, alarmed. Certainly his crew hadn't... No, of course not. "Besides, I needed to get your attention.

"Such arrogance. Well, you have my attention. What do you have to say?"

"Well, I don't know how much you know about what's been happening between the Empire and the Republic, but the truth is, independent systems have been swallowed into their war. One by one, the two beasts are trampling everything in their path. And now they know about you."

"And?"

"I've received word that the Empire is planning an assault. That pod I landed in could hold enough explosives to level a big part of a city. And I just had one Cruiser. They'll bring more." He stepped up to the edge of the force field "You need my help if you're going to stay free."

The woman folded her arms, continuing to stare. "So the Cruiser belonged to you." Darak wasn't thrilled by her use of the past tense, "That was bold." He noticed then the deep shade of red on her lips as she slowly smiled. "Tell me how one man 'helps' a planet?"

Darak smirked under his helmet, though he was beginning to feel less in control of the conversation then he would have liked. "Well for one thing I could teach your boys to fly... and also, I have more ships than just that one. With my intelligence network, I could have seven heavy cruisers in place to intercept any incoming ships hours before they arrive." This was the defining moment. He didn't want to reveal all his assets, but he needed to give them enough to be intrigued. The woman left without another word. Darak paced the cell for a while, then sat against the wall, hoping to get some sleep.

When the woman returned, Darak got to his feet. She spoke in measured tones. "We thank you for your offer pilot, it is most kind." Darak drew a sharp breath. "however, both you and your offer are security risks for Ialdon.  Your actions, and that of your fighters, have proven you to be untrustworthy. The Presence witnesses." She turned away, speaking to the guards. "Kill him, strip him, then leave him to Llaith."

Well, he thought as the guard reached for the controls for the cage, that didn't go according to plan. Then the Electricity arced through the cage, shorting out his cybernetics and causing him fall to the ground, unable to move. The force field was removed, and the other guard aimed and squeezed the trigger.


*******************************


The transport hovered over the great desert, opening the door and dropping a man, stripped of his clothes and his gear, motionless. He was left to bake in the sun and sand, another offering to the desert of Llaith.

Llaith, land of sacrifice. Llaith, land of death.

[Esk]

(( Not entirely what happened, Darak ;) Let me know if you need the entire log.))

[Darak]

(( Not entirely what happened, Darak ;) Let me know if you need the entire log.))

((And now it's (hopefully) accurate. Thanks again Esk.))

[Cordae]

Previously: "Friendly Fire"

Friendly Fire: Part II
@Esk
@Cordae

The North Hospital is located in the northeastern section of Hearth, close the great square that leads up to the bluestone castles for which the city is known. Its architectural shape is of note for tourism, having been dreamed of and created by Chief Architect Branwen three hundred years ago. However, at this time, no one had eyes for the beauty of the building, only for the hundreds of injured Ialu who were being seen to in disaster stations within and without the hospital. When Cordae arrives, he is greeted with a scene of chaos. The large group of medics, as well as his own people, are nowhere to be seen.
 
Cordae looks around, quite out of place in his heavy plate armor. His eyes dart around the hospital's main entryway, unsure of which way to go first in search of his men and the stricken Ialu Confessor. Well, he thought, at least I'm in the right building... He removes the rest of his medical kit - a survival tin full of painkiller and auto-clot syrettes - and gives it to someone who fits with the rest of the Ialu medics - orange robes with hoods, now usually covered in blood or debris up to their elbows. He tries to find a soldier or someone who might speak Basic. "Confessor?" he asks, trying to see if anyone latches on.

Suddenly, he feels a tug at his right elbow. "Lord-Ambassador-Cordae!"

Normally Cordae might not even register the touch on his elbow, but the stress of the situation has left him hyper-aware of everything. He spins on his heel to find the boy Iefan, Brother Therem’s indentured runner stands before him. He bows low. "Lord-Ambassador-Cordae, my master has sent me to guide you."

“Iefan!" He blinks, looking down at the child and suddenly obstructively large in his armor and the body-cramped hospital foyer. "...I didn't expect-....Nevermind. I'll follow you."

Iefan grins. "You are large," He comments, then begins to run quickly through the hallways of the hospital, weaving his way through the crowds of healers and patients, dashing up stairsways two steps at a time.

Cordae snorts, deadpan look on his face as he attempts to maneuver himself through the hallways of North Hospital. "Observant..." he says to himself, his words drowned out by the pervasive din.

Before long, they come to a long hallway, apparently reserved for more prominent and prestigious patients. All along the hall are holos of various Ialu men and women, smiling down at Cordae and the slave boy.

Iefan makes a turn at the end of the hall, and they enter a large private room, where rests the charred figure Cordae had seen in the crater, as well as a large team of medics, his as well as Ialu.

As he enters the room, Cordae's eyes find themselves stuck on the figure of the charred woman, an Ialu Confessor who had somehow survived - at ground zero, no less - an explosion that leveled several city blocks. He looks for an Ialu who -isn't- busy being a doctor or, barring that, attempts to regroup with his Throneguards.

The medics look up. Iefan bow to Cordae, then dashes out of the room. Cordae's throneguards have been pushed aside to the corners of the room, as the various medics bustle about, trying to keep the woman alive. They are all too happy to see Cordae once more.

Each of them, Throneguards MkTass, Hondr, Uli, and Viqtor, have their helmets secured to their belts as they stand grouped in a far corner well away from anything important where their presence might be an obstruction. They'd been staring at the medical proceedings, trying to see what they could - though of course, none of them could make sense of what they -were- seeing if they even saw anything at all between the bustle of the medics. MkTass is the first one to see Cordae.

"Sir!" He breaks through the crowd of Thoneguard but they all follow quickly behind him. "We had your location via your suit beacon, but..."

Uli nodded. "It's good to see you, is all, sir."

Cordae clapped the man on his shoulder with a massive armored hand. "You lot did alright, you know that? Get her here right quick. Do you know anything?" Viqtor and Hondr shook their heads.

"Nothing new, sir."

Cordae crosses his arms as he turns around. "Feth it.." As Cordae turns around, he sees a short man with tan skin and black hair standing before him. Therem had entered the room under the noise of the bustle, unnoticed. He greets Cordae with a pained smile, then bows low. "Prince Cordae, I'm glad to see my runner has found you safe and sound."

Cordae blinks at Therem, then adopts a more official-looking posture. "That he did, Brother Therem, that he did. Found me with all due haste. He returns the bow with one of his own. "Are there news of more survivors?"

Therem studies Cordae. "There are many survivors, as you see all around you. But from the crater itself... there is only her." He turns his gaze toward the charred woman in the bed, who now has tubes sticking into her body in various places. A surgeon with vibroscalpel is carefully scraping away devitalized flesh. Three medical droids are moving a kolto tank into the room.

Cordae's gaze wanders back over to the Confessor. "...She gave us a real start. For her to crawl out of a blast crater made by an explosion that killed so many..." He turns back to Therem. "Could we possibly speak in the hallway?"

Therem dips his head, "Of course," and leads the way outside into the relatively quite hallway. There is a large window that looks out from the hospital. Medical tents litter the hospital grounds, and farther away, smoke and ash drift up from the site of the disaster. Therem turns, "I am to understand that you initially discovered the Confessor?"

Cordae studies the make-shift tent hospital growing up outside of the main building's grounds. Not unlike an army hospital, really... he though. "Yes, that's right. Hondr, one of my men, as well as myself found her first." He turns to look at Therem. "Brother Therem, there's something you should know. It weighs like a stone in my heart, but I would prefer to tell you than have you receive a report about it."

Therem's gaze had strayed out to the city. He says in a distracted voice, "What is that, Prince Cordae?"

"When my man and I approached the blast crater, we noticed a great deal of residual...activity, I assume from the blast. Purple lightning arcs licking at the sand, small clumps of dirt and debris suspended in midair...that kind of thing. And then...we saw something begin to crawl out of the middle." He sighs. "My man opened fire on what we -now- know was only your Confessor. With the Force energy still around the crater and...the unlikeliness of surviving such a thing at its impact....we had no idea what to think. With all that we've seen of the Sith, I'm sure he thought it was another thrall...some kind of creature."

“I have a recording of that event from my helmet's onboard camera. You...can see it, if you like," he adds quietly, heart racing.

Turning around, Therem asks, "Your men fired on the Confessor?" His grey eyes hold a hint of surprise.

Cordae is silent for a few minutes. "They did. They thought she was...a monster. A result of the blast." Cordae speaks very carefully, enunciating his words much more clearly and deliberately than even he was used to. "Given how they have been trained to act around Sith, given what they know of their powers, he felt that I was in danger and tried to keep me safe. And when he realized he was wrong, he dropped his gun and jumped into the crater to help her."

Therem returns his gaze to the city beyond the window. When he speaks, his voice is soft and resigned. "We did not expect her to survive at all. You were doing what you had to. It could have been our own guards that fired on her, if you did not." He pauses. "I do not doubt your goodwill, Prince Cordae. But let us not spread this information any further than here. My people are not... all understanding."

"Sacred feth, yes," says Cordae as he witnesses his mouth move more quickly than his brain, then tries to contain himself. "I mean...yes. That is a very good idea." He takes a deep breath, eyes not leaving Therem. "There was a guard near where we were. He found us first. He saw what happened. I didn't get a name, but my man could identify him. If you...wish to kill this rumor completely, I would find him. Not...-do- anything to him, Saints no, but...speak with him."

"He was only doing his duty."

Therem nods with a sigh of relief, "Only one?" He gives Cordae a hint of a smile. "The guards are posted throughout the hospital. They are free to look around as they are able. And in the meantime..." The man's brows furrow once more. "You mentioned the sith and their magicks in relation to the explosion. The word -is- that a sith of the Empire had performed this deed... Prince Cordae, what do you know of it?"

Cordae shakes his head. "Nothing at all, Brother Therem. If the blast had occurred a minute later, there is a -slight- possibility that I would have seen the blast from -orbit-...many miles away and far too late to...." He sighs, looking out across the wounded city. "Help." He looks back at Therem. "As I said, our helmets captured the incident. I looked right at the man. You could take his face from my footage and find him, I'm sure."

"I would be grateful for the footage then." Therem pauses, then lowers his head. "You will understand when I say this. My job will be much more difficult, now." He passes a hand over his eyes, pressing the palm to his chest. "Sdim ots. No-matter."

Cordae reaches down to the helmet secured to his belt. He presses a button on the collar's underside, prompting a small data-chit to expose itself. He plucks it out and offers it to Therem. "I apologize for our part in making your task less comfortable. I hope Ialdon does not see Erini as a meddler because of it...What sort of repercussions will there be? If I may ask.."

Therem takes the data chit. "For you? If this does not reach the Matriarchs..., then none." He rubs the chit between his fingers. "But those on the Council who are more isolationist will now have the ear of the High Matriarch. The disaster... provides ammunition." He chuckles slightly at Cordae. "I do not mean to air local politics with you."

Cordae nods, looking back out over the city. "I can understand why they would feel that way...Anyone could. I only hope that there is a small moment in their deliberation that sees that this terrible day had two sides - one that bore violence and one that bore aid." His voice is low, as though he is thinking aloud. "I hope she lives, Therem..."

"I as well, Prince Cordae," replied Therem.

[Cordae]

Previously: ”Friendly Fire: Part II”

Legal Recourse
@Lolermelon
@Cordae

Hearth Spaceport, Dock A1, a handful of days after the mysterious explosion in Hearth’s southwest ward…


Aboard the ENV Reclusiarch in his personal study, Cordae's personal holocom would receive an incoming call from Darth Taelios. Its signature marked it as ‘Urgent’ as well, which was rare for the flighty Sith.

Cordae peered over at his personal holocomm as it flashed on his desk. He transferred the signal to his desk comm, then activated it. "...Darth Taelios. Well met and all. ‘Urgent’?" he asks, curious.

“Okay, so. I don't have a lot of time to talk about this, specifically, and I also can't say too much on the subject. Have you been to Hearth recently?" The pureblood's tone was frantic, manic. Something seems... off.

"...I have, yes. I’m there now,” he said, sitting down.

"Mmm. Well, then. You know what happened, and now that I'm calling, you can guess what happened. As your friend...I have a responsibility to let you know it was me. But... I was provoked. I... you know how I am about being provoked." The Pureblood takes a few deep breaths. "If you saw... that. Then you must think that I am a monster."

Cordae sat silently for a few seconds. Finally, a heavy sigh escaped. "I...certain things matched up with what I knew of your abilities. I didn't want to believe it...but...well." He trails off. "What happened, Tae?"

"I... you know how my curiosity gets the best of me, right? Through a series of strange circumstances I was granted astrogation data to Ialdon. And so... I went. Shot myself down to the planet in a drop pod, hopped over to Hearth... and then they pointed some _very_ advanced weaponry at me. I sat, waited, met with their confessor. It was going great up until the "you have to stay forever" part. And the reeducation... and then something about an "aggressive prisoner"." The Pureblood frowned.

"They stabbed me... repeatedly, actually. And they all jumped on me, lunging at me with spears. Lots of stabbing."

Cordae just sort of sits there, thinking.

"They....I..." He furrows his brow. "They wanted you to stay there forever?" He leans back in his chair. "That seems...ridiculous. Not like anything I heard about them. I've been granted several audiences with one of their representatives...and I've been allowed to leave and come back...But Saints, Tae, destroying a whole city quarter?"

“It was an accident. I only meant to take out the cell block..."

"Well, as long as it was an accident," he mutters sarcastically.

“I might have been able to control it, too. If they hadn't been stabbing me the whole time."

"...I don't really know what to say, Tae. I...Feth."

"Anyways... can you get me a representative on world? I'm willing to submit myself for trial."

“On Ialdon?"

"Yeah. I think that's a good first step?"

"...I think that's a brilliant start, Tae...but I don't know anything about their laws. There's..." Cordae shook his head. "Anyway. A representative? I could broach the topic with my contact. What sort of thing are you looking for?"

"Like...a court or something? Justice system. Penance to the presence if that's what they wanna call it. But look... I gotta jet. My lawyer is here." A serious-looking Taelios, dressed in business suit and tie, is visible just at the edge of the image.

"I'm just not clear on what you want from me. Just go up to the man and say "Yeah, he's sorry?"

"No... um. Like... I'm willing to submit myself to trial for my actions?"

"...Ah." Cordae nods, thinking deeply. "...I'll bring it up. It'll be a bit of time until I can make it back, but I'll bring it up."

Cordae nods at Tae. “Thank you."

“Thank you, too. I'll... we'll be in touch."

[Seraphie]

Approaching Ialdon...
Thyana begins scanning the moment they drop back into normal space, still some distance from the planet. All scanned information is automatically backed up to the ship's maintenance astromech droid, with an automated send of the information every 30 minutes back to the Jedi Council. The Defender class ship, standard Jedi issue, has some weapons but mostly strong shielding.

Sera steps into the cockpit as they drop into normal space, the scans now running automatically and continuously. She looks out towards the planet sliently, taking in the vision the Force offers her. Ialdon, when gazed upon by Force Sight, is bright with fountains of Force, which form plexi that web throughout the world. None of this is visible, however, to conventional vision, which shows only swirling clouds with electrical storms, and hints of the lands and oceans below. Sera whispers with a small gasp, "It's beautiful!"  Thyana turns to her, but asks nothing and Sera doesn't volunteer what she sees in the Force immediately. Though as Thyana stares for a few moments, she finally speaks up, "It's bright in the Force, very bright. The Force webs through it, springs up from it." Thyana simply nods and turns her attention back to the scans. For a brief moment, Sera lifts her mask, with a shy look towards her new master, glancing at the planet with her human sight, before letting the mask fall back into place.

After many minutes of scanning from that distance, Thyana begins to take the ship slowly closer to orbit. As the Defender class ship approaches the planet, it is clear that there is a capital ship nearby of unique signature and make, unseen anywhere else in the galaxy. But the great ship seems otherwise occupied, and does not engage the small Jedi vessel. Thyana monitors the scans, noting now the capital ship. She sets additional scans of the ship in place, then waits a few minutes to see if they'll be heralded. When they aren't she drops to a lower orbit, though still above the clouds and electrical storms she sees. She looks over the continuously running scans, looking for signs of civilisation, signs of concentrated civilisation and any path that seems clearer through the atmosphere.

Though muted, one area in the southern hemisphere of the world clearly shows the signatures of a large spaceport, which are enhanced as a swarm of fighters suddenly erupts from the location. They speed into the low atmosphere in the direction of the Jedi ship, but then quickly turn off toward the oceans. Their small signatures fade under the interference of a large electrical storm.

Thyana heads towards the apparent spaceport and watches the swarm of fighters erupt from that location. She slows the ship when they first appear, wanting to do all she can to not appear threatening. She frowns as she sees them veer off and disappear, speaking to Sera, "Their capital ship didn't hail us, their fighters launch, then turn away from us. This isn't the welcome I expected. I wonder what else is going on that has their attention? You said the planet is bright in the Force, that's promising. Do you see any darkness on its surface? Perhaps we aren't the first to pay a visit after their assaults on our citizens."

Sera moves closer to the transparisteel window, focusing intently on the planet below, seeking out any patches of darkness among the bright light and a clearer vision of it in the Force. In each fountain of the Force, the darkness alternates with the light in shimmering waves, so that the nexi of the Force lines appear like pulsating beacons, blinking on and off: sinking into shadow, then rising into brightness.

Sera tries to describe what she sees in the force to her master, "There are... fountains of Force energy welling up from the planet. But in each fountain, both the light and the dark erupt, in turn. The web lines of Force energy that seem to surround the planet appear as the light erupts and disappear as the dark wells up in its place."
The Jedi ship is beginning to encounter the chaotic turbulence of the mid-atmosphere, as electrical sparks fork their way along the hull in light, spidery strikes. Thyana listens to Sera's description, but quickly must turn her full attention to piloting the ship. She sits in the pilot seat, focusing on her control of the ship. "Sera, get T89 to engineering to see if he can fix something to bleed off these electrical build ups while I try to get us through the storm. And hold on as you go!" Sera gives a single nod, almost falling, but catching herself against the doorway, as the ship hits another pocket of turbulence. She leaves the cockpit to search for the droid.

The electrical sparks continue striking the ship, and T89 puts forth a brave effort in discharging the buildups that would otherwise interfere with the ship's systems. The space above the previously identified spaceport seems to be less dense in the storms, and as the ship approaches the area, the electrical activity lessens, then ceases. The ship bursts through the wispy storm-clouds to find itself at the eastern edge of a continent. The spaceport's signals are more prominent now, directly below. To the north, a wide patch of purple forest spreads itself across the land, and to the west, the land becomes yellow, then a parched orange-red.

Thyana glances at the landscape, then glances at the instruments, ensuring that the continuous scanning is still occuring. Mostly, however, she focuses on the control of the ship as it finally clears the electrical activity. As the ship levels out and stabilises, she takes a closer look at what she's seeing. Sera makes her way back to the cockpit, looking out onto the strange world with wonder. Thyana slows as she detects the spaceport signals. She emits a standard greeting hail repeating in multiple languages, "We are Jedi, of the Jedi Order, come to meet you." She glances at another panel to see if the backups of the scans, scheduled to send automatically to the Order every thirty minutes, will make it through the electrified atmosphere.

"We hear you, Jedi of the Jedi order." Air control from the spaceport appears to have picked up their their hail. "We are currently in a state of emergency, and-" There are a few moments of mumbling, as if there were a discussion between several participants, "You are requested to land immediately at Gulen spaceport for inspection and interrogation, or protective measures will be engaged." Exact coordinates of landing are transmitted to the Jedi ship. As Thyana checks through the systems, it appears that the scan backups are successfully making it through the atmosphere one out of three tries.

Thyana's answer is brief. "Acknowledged." She leaves the ship at its slow pace, but heads directly along the line to the given coordinates. She taps at the other instrument panel, relaying the scans. She increases the frequency of the back up transmissions to every ten minutes and has it send the last three scans each time. They lower into the spaceport, Thyana and Sera both taking in the sight of the place through their own vision. As the ship lands and begins to power down, Thyana calls over the ship comm, "J2-P0, meet us at the ramp." Thyana steps out of the cockpit, checking her little equipment on her belt - her lightsaber, her comm, a standard small kolto kit, a glowstick and a rebreather. Sera follows her. The two meet up with J2-P0 at the top of the ramp. Thyana glances at Sera, ensuring that her padawan is indeed wearing her lightsaber at her belt. She then taps the controls to lower the ramp.

The spaceport is designed to blend in with the landscape around it, its walls and girders a mute brownish-green that melts into the marshlands where it rests. The ship has landed into an empty bay that is circular in shape. As the Jedi and her Padawan step down the ramp, they are greeted with heat and humidity, and the strong scent of life in decay and in abdundant growth. Three women await them, dressed in short, light tunics that are likely a necessity in the surrounding climate. More careful observation would reveal surveillance devices scattered generously throughout the landing bay, and a sense of many presences beyond, out of sight.

Thyana walks calmly down the ramp, greeting the women with a smile. When her, Sera and J2-P0 reach the bottom of the ramp, Thyana bows respectfully to the three. "Greetings, I am Jedi knight Thyana." Sera follows her master with their agreed-upon greeting, also bowing, "Greetings, I am padawan Sera." Thyana gestures to J2-P0, "This is our protocol droid, though perhaps, as you seem well versed in basic, he isn't necessary?" Thyana glances around briefly and notes the surveillance, but quickly turns her full attention back to the three women. Sera glances around with her Force-sight, behind her mask, sensing the abundant life that surrounds them.

The foremost woman, whose hair is bright red and arranged into one long braid, bows before the two Jedi. "Greetings, I am Mere Deryn, with Sisters Efa and Eira." The other two women also bow. All three watch Thyana and Sera with expressions of expectancy, of a wary awe. Sera's Force Sight detects auras of Force sensitivity around their greeters. Mere Deryn continues, "The protocol droid is appreciated." She smiles widely and winks at the other women, "Efa and Eira are not as adept in the galactic languages as they -ought to be-."

Thyana's purple hair fits in well with the colourful hair of their greeter. Thyana smiles warmly at each, "Mere Deryn, Sister Efa, Sister Eira," she bows her head, "It is an honour to meet you." Sera smiles at each as well, though her smile bears a touch of shyness with the warmth. Thyana returns Deryn's wide smile, "Ah, well, we can't all be gifted in all things. After all, this is why we have protocol droids." J2-P0 takes a single step forward, staying behind Thyana and Sera, indicating its readiness. Sera says nothing of the Force sensitivity she sees for the moment, not wanting to be rude.

"Come come!" Mere Deryn calls out, "Honored Jedi ought to come to tea, yes? And tell us what brought you here, though I can probably guess already." She starts walking quickly toward the entrance to the bay, and the two other Sisters, who appear to be dark-skinned twins, follow her at a trot. "There would be more to greet you today but we have a bit of an emergency on hand. You know how that goes, yes? We'll be going to the east pavillion where you can see the ocean and the sailors and everyone. They say it's not as pretty as the blue oceans of Hearth but I say hey, you take what you can yes? Don't mind the guns; they won't shoot while we're with you. Not that you are afraid of a few shots I expect, given what you are..." The woman continues to chatter as they leave the bay cross heavily guarded grounds with high towers, fences, and various kinds of defensive machinery.

Thyana notes the pace and nature of the chatter and responds with calm and measured replies. "Yes, of course. Forgive us if our timing is unfortunate. If there is anything the Jedi Order could do to assist you with your emergency, we'd be happy to help." She pauses, quite purposefully looking around, relaxed, almost like a tourist. "Oceans of any sort sound beautiful and tea sounds lovely. I've spent the last while on Coruscant and the only trees to be found are in pots. There is nothing left of the surface of the planet. All has been built upon." She says nothing of the mention of guns, nor of the sight of heavy defenses. Sera follows quietly, taking in both their greeters and the surroundings, needing no pretense to look like a tourist in her obvious gawking. J2-P0's metal steps follow the group.

They walk for a good twenty minutes, with Mere Deryn talking nonstop. The twins Efa and Eira steal quick glances at the Jedi from time to time, whispering to one another, but their superior in the religious order appears to be able to talk enough for all three of them. Finally, they arrive at a wide set of steps that leads up to a grand pavilion overlooking the oceans, whose waves are a green-brown that reflect the murkiness of the marshlands around as well as the greyness of the sky above, clouded over with filigrees of electricity seen faintly higher above. There is a table there, set to fit exactly six. Mere Deryn and the Sisters sit down, and the redheaded woman calls out. "Sit sit sit! We'll have a slave coming soon with the tea. In the meantime we can talk!"

Throughout the walk, Thyana ensures she keeps up a polite pace of replies to Mere Deryn's constant chatter, though with carefully measured pauses between. She continues to periodically glance at the surroundings, like a tourist, though she carefully takes note of details of the path they follow. Sera watches the sisters more than the mere as they walk, though also taking in the surroundings. As they enter the room and reach the table, Thyana bows in acknowledgement, "You honour us greatly Mere Deryn." She takes a seat. Sera sits next to Thyana after giving a similar respectful bow to the mere and to each of the two sisters. J2-P0 remains standing behind Thyana and Sera's seats.

"Now! Tell us why you're here!" The redheaded woman leans forward in her chair, blue eyes wide and curious. As she had promised, several collared slaves - one zabrak, two humans - arrive on the pavilion and begin to pour a fragrant tea to the hostesses and the guests. They do this with eyes lowered, mouths firmly shut.

Thyana smiles, "We wished to meet the neighbours we have just discovered! To establish relations with you, if such is your interest. To explore exchanges that could be mutually beneficial, if that is your desire." She says nothing for the moment of the concerns that also brought them. Sera frowns for the briefest moment at the slaves, though none would see it behind her mask. Sera speaks after Thyana, quietly, "We'd like to get to know who you are. You seem to already have some knowledge of us."

Deryn sits back with a wide, knowing smile. "Well! I can certainly say we know of you, Jedi. For millennia we have known you, haven't we? That's right! Let them know, Efa!" She thumps a fist on the table, pointing at the twin to her left. The slight, dark-skinned Sister startles, then gazes at Thyana and Sera. She reports earnestly and dutifully, "Jedi are a cause of our exodus, as the ancient records say. So you have been known since before the Founders." Deryn grins at the Jedi. "Hear that, honored Jedi? That's right. So we know you. We know you all right." She pauses. "And it's really a shame that we can't have relations with you anymore, you know? You two seem like nice girls. But it's really a shame especially with the political climate lately." She pauses and gulps some tea. "Oh and please! Drink your tea! Drink up! Finest wyrdwood bark tea. From just north of here, yes? Bet you haven't had that in your fancy Republic travels." She nods emphatically.

Thyana nods, always smiling as she takes a small sip of tea. Sera's face remains turned towards the sisters, though no expression can be read, given her mask. "I would be most interested, Mere Deryn, in learning more of your history, as even the history of your exodus seems to have been lost to Jedi knoweldge." Sera turns to the mere now though holds most of her questions, chosing only to ask the one that communicates her information to her master, "All three of you are sensitive to the Force. Are all of your people Force-sensitive?

"Oh, I've heard of the Force!" Deryn waves her hands about. "Beg your pardon but all hogwash, at least on it's own. See that's why we had to leave, right? No respect for the Presence." She continues babbling on with similar proclamations. The other Sister, Eira, who had been intently listening to the conversation, sits up straight and interjects, "And- we... are..." She pauses, looking at the suddenly silent Deryn and her twin for help. She continues on in Ghel'fyd, the Ialu native tongue. Interpretation based on grammatical structure and vocabulary similarities by a protocol droid would reveal that she says the following: "And we are gifted by the Presence! There is no Force here, Jedi. Efa and I, we have been given the gift of lifting and manipulating. Without the blessing of the Presence, such powers only bring woe." The woman finishes with a pass of her hand over her eyes, palm to her chest.

Thyana listens as the protocol droid finishes its translation, though her eyes remain on Eira, the one speaking. She pauses before answering, her tone calm, questionning, curious, but not challenging, "My padawan has similar gifts. I have other gifts. We consider these gifts of the Force. Perhaps we speak of the same thing, Force and Presence?”

Mere Deryn laughs. "Ah but see your -Force- is not governed by the Presence, nor are your blessings paid for with blood to the Goddess, and therefore the use of your gifts constitutes -stealing-." She gestures at the zabrak slave, who pours her another cup of wyrdwood bark tea. "There's so much theology we could discuss." She laughs again, leaning an elbow on the table, "Like I said it's too bad that policy is policy, and law is law, and the Voice of the Presence is One person, am I right, Eira?" She ribs the Sister with the same elbow. "Sdim ots. No-matter... Slaves, fill their cups!" The slaves walk up to the table again, eyes downcast, refilling the two Jedi's cups with fresh, hot tea.

Thyana listens carefully, taking a few small sips of the tea and a lengthy pause before speaking again, "We came to learn, Mere Deryn. We hope you will teach us. Who is the Voice of the Presence?"

"The High Matriarch, of course! Closest embodiment of the Presence that we have, though she -isn't-, if you know what I mean?" An ocean wind picks up, bringing cool air to displace the warm mugginess of the shore. There is the sound of rumbling over the ocean. Behind, in the spaceport proper, there are also noises of landing and takeoff. The fighters previously seen from above appear to be returning. Deryn ignores the noise. Behind her, the slaves shiver and rub their arms.

Thyana's answer comes somewhat faster than her previous replies, though with the same smile and the same calm, quiet tone, "Could we be permitted to meet her, to ask her some of our questions, learn from her, Mere Deryn?"

"Oh no! No no no... To gain an audience with the Voice..." Deryn laughs, the twin Sisters smile nervously. "Not even I have met her holiness." She suddenly stands. "Besides, honored Jedi... The High Matriarch, and all those who are of the Fyd (protocol droid translates: Faith)... are obligated to show the Jedi the same accommodation we were shown millenia ago, isn't that right, Efa, Eira?" The two Sisters also stand, hands clasped expectantly. Sounds of footsteps crunch behind them, far, but coming closer. "And law dictates that without special dispensation, the two of you will have to stay for good, and be subject to judgment." Several hoverships emerge from the clouds over the ocean. Deryn frowns dramatically, her Force aura turning a ominous hue, "I'm really sorry. I truly am. You're such a delight to talk to and all."

Thyana remains seated, still smiling, though even she senses the change. After a moment, she asks quietly, though with a firmness that makes clear the expectation of an answer, "What are we to be judged for, Mere Deryn? Are we to be judged for actions millenia ago, by ancestors who's names are long forgotten and who's actions might very well be questionned by us today?" Sera senses and sees the change around them. She puts a strong Force shield quickly around both her and Thyana, a shield which other Force-sensitives would sense.

"Oh like I said it's nothing personal! Law is law, and policy is policy. Even if you weren't Jedi you would be obligated to stay." Deryn wrings her hands, sighing. "But it's outside my circles to know what your judgments will be. The Confessors will be taking over for me. They would have been here if they weren't dealing with the emergency. -You- know... But like I said it was really delightful talking..." She continues to chatter, as Efa and Eira step back slightly, eyes on Sera who had erected the shield. The Hoverships begin to reveal pairs of guns, pointed at the Jedi. At the mention of Confessors, the footsteps grow louder behind them, now coming up the steps to the pavilion.

Thyana's tone lowers, though she withholds letting it cross into threatening. "Was this the reason for your attack on our people then? Retribution?" Thyana and Sera both remain seated still, though their posture is somewhat tenser.

"Attack...? Oh, you misunderstand..." Deryn chuckles. "It was only self-protection... Though I hear it went awry a bit. But people can't go around remembering us out in the galaxy can they?" Efa and Eira lift their arms, their strong telekinetic abilities attempting to hold the two Jedi in place. The footsteps behind them slow, as a group of orange cloaked women fan around the tea table, spears in their hands. One of those women steps up to the Mere, saying casually, "Deryn, I see you have captured some outsiders."

Though Sera feels the pressure of the twins' telekinetic abilities against her shield, neither Thyana nor Sera would feel held in place by them. Thyana speaks, very matter-of-factly in her tone. "And yet it was an attack on our people, specifically on Jedi. We are much more numerous than we were millenia ago. And we are at war, a fact that I'm sure even you are aware of. An attack on our people in our own space. Holding our representatives. The Republic will likely view this as confirmation of your hostile intentions, perhaps even as an act of war." She glances at the woman who spoke to Deryn, "But none of you are high enough up in power to understand the weight of the actions you're taking, nor to communicate to your Matriarchs the cost the actions of their nameless underlings may have. When more come, because they will, perhaps then you will let us speak with someone who understands."

Thyana now stands, with ease, and Sera stands with her, remaining standing close to her, maintaining her shield. Thyana smiles at the woman who spoke to the mere, an incongruous warmth to her smile, "In the meantime, we will be honoured to remain your guests and to learn more about you, as you and your laws may allow. To be allowed to stay and to learn was what we most desired." She turns to Mere Deryn, giving her a brief bow, "Thank you for your gracious conversation and tea Mere Deryn, Sister Efa, Sister Eira." She turns back to the others, "You may lead. We will follow."

Mere Deryn and the Sisters Efa and Eira watch as the lead Confessor brings out binders to place over the Jedi's wrists. Deryn adds, "Oh, oh... Morgen, these are -Jedi-, remember... And if and when you're done with them, I would love to talk to them some more, all right?"

As Morgen moves forward with the binders, he comes up against Sera's shield, unable to move closer to their wrists than a couple of inches. Thyana smiles at Morgen with the same warmth, "Do you really believe those to be necessary? If I say we will accompany you, we will." Her tone is almost playful.

Morgen, with dark hair and a lined face, stares at Thyana severely. Her presence in Force Sight is brown, almost black. "Yes. They are. The hoverships have more than enough firepower for your... shields, if it came to that." Deryn adds quickly, "Confessors are a bit jumpy, I must warn you, after the explosion in the capital...." Morgen shoots Deryn a look. The redheaded Mere covers her mouth. "Oops!" Morgen turns back to Thyana, speaking, “Yes, they are.”

Thyana now frowns for the first time, but refrains from asking the obvious question, given the look Morgen shot Deryn. Thyana makes a hand movement to Sera, though very discretely and briefly taps her comm, smoothly, as part of the movement. Sera gives a single bow of her head and releases the shield around them. Thyana returns her warm smile to Morgen, "You may underestimate the strength of the gift given to my padawan, but if the binders make you feel more at ease as we follow you, we would be poor guests to make you... jumpy." Her playful tone, again, seems incongruous with the situation. She holds out her wrists for the binders, as does Sera.

As Thyana's comm is tapped, their ship enters a lockdown state. The data continues to be sent every 10 minutes, always the last three back ups sent each time, including all sensor data, images from around the ship, and health monitors of the two Jedi, for as long as their comms remain in range and on them.

Morgen places the binders over Thyana's wrists, then over Sera's. The rest of the orange-cloaked women collect themselves, ready to guide the two Jedi away. Efa and Eira look wistful, and Deryn bows and waves. "I'm truly truly sorry! I'm sure the Ambassador and the Council will hear about you soon! Oh, perhaps they will come and talk with me! Won't that be delightful...?" Her voice fades as the group moves away from the pavilion.

Thyana and Sera go cooperatively where they are led, J2-P0 following behind them, until given other instructions.
The slaves shiver with the shifting wind, watching the Jedi go. The zabrak blinks, then nudges her shoulder with her chin, remembering the encounter.

[Jedibehr]

In a guest room in the city of Gulen, Thyana and Sera wait. Thyana kneels on the floor, deep in meditation, keeping centered as she awaits the foretold meeting with a Confessor. Sera sits cross-legged on her bed, also meditating, though allowing herself to sense the various life forms that surround them, Ialu, wildlife and flora, the flow of life helping her to remain centered.

Brother Teralous strides down the slender halls of the naval outpost, having been summoned from the halls of the Furhaven Monastery. The outsiders had landed, and the High Matriarch wanted answers, answers that would fall on the shoulders of the Confessors. His heavy fur lined cloak of the darkest midnight swirled in his wake as he strode with confidence. In his wake were two lesser acolytes of the Monastery whom struggled in vain to keep up with the tall lanky man. Opening the door to the room, he appraises the two guests.

"I am Brother Teralous, I am sorry to have kept you waiting," He opens with, as he removes his heavy cloak to reveal robes of the same dark midnight, with a splash of crimson coloring.

Sera stirs before the door is opened, sensing the strength of the Force in the one who approaches. She whispers, "They're here." Thyana replies softly, "I know", though from all outward signs she's still in her deep meditative state. As the door opens, Thyana opens her eyes and looks at the one who enters, appraising him as well, noting the clothing, the commanding posture. Sera turns her head towards the door, seeing Brother Teralous through the Force, noting the darkness within him. ((Maybe you can specify what she would see as light/dark mix and I can clarify her vision.))

As Brother Teralous speaks, both women rise and bow deeply, reverently. Thyana speaks for both of them, "I am Jedi knight Thyana, and this is my Padawan, Sera." She smiles at him, her posture relaxed and tone friendly.

He continues after a brief pause, "No need to apologize Brother Teralous, we are in no rush."

Teralous handed the heavy overcoat to one of the panting acolytes, opening his arms wide, he applied a grin. The darkness of his robes seemed to emanate around him, as if he were surrounded by shadows. Those gifted with force sight would note the overwhelming darkness that surrounds him, but the critical eye would note a deep light in his core. "I am not sure how much, your hosts have discussed with you, but I have come from all the way in the north. It was a long journey, and the apology is for your time, which we respect. Might I offer you some tea?" Teralous snaps a finger and two servants enter the room and set tea out for the Jedi and a chair for Teralous. The cold silver collars clearly visible, and the shackles on their wrists clanking as they serve.

Teralous sits in the chair brought in for him.

Thyana smiles warmly, "We appreciate such a long journey so that you may meet with us. Tea would be most gracious. While Mere Deryn was most chatty with us, I'm not sure we learned very much from her, and all have been most quiet since. We gather that your people had a history with the Jedi, many millennia ago, that was not a pleasant one, though apparently the knowledge of those events has been lost to the Jedi. We hope to learn more about you, in a spirit of friendship."

Sera says nothing, but watches Teralous intently from behind her mask, seeing the darkness swirl within and around him, a darkness that seems to want to draw in the light around it, yet she sees, deep within, the light, held in by the surrounding darkness, but almost stronger for it. She listens and watches curiously.

Teralous looks over his shoulder and nods, one of the acolytes furiously scribbles down something. He listens to the rest of the response. His gaze is piercing, he is clearly a practiced interrogator and investigator. He sips the tea that one of the servants kneeling near him is holding in their hand. Sera would see the edges of the shadows gently reaching out like fingers, probing gently at the edges of her mind and her master. "Well, that seems to be a reasonable reason to seek out our people."

His grin widens in a predatory manner. "But you must understand that your timing is most..." He searches for the right word. "Curious."

"Tell me how you came to find our home?"

Thyana, getting a sense that this may finally be someone high enough up to hold some influence in discussions to come, decides to be more forthright in what she shares. She smiles, "There is a reason for this timing. Most recently, citizens of the Republic, specifically Jedi, fell victim to a technological attack that affected their emotions. The source of these assaults was traced to your planet. We wish to reach out in friendship, we are curious to learn who you are, but we wish also to ascertain whether you intend... harm towards us." Her smile fades for a moment, "We did hear that there was recently an explosion here, were told that that was part of why we had to wait to speak with someone. I can assure you that we are the first Jedi, and to our knowledge, the first representatives of the Republic to make contact with your planet and that we intend no hostilities." Her smile returns, "We truly would like to understand who you are, and, if you prefer to be left alone, we will respect that wish, as long as you have no intention of continuing to assault our citizens."

Sera senses, sees the dark tendrils reaching out from Teralous. She puts up a subtle but firm shield around both her and her master, so that the tendrils would find... emptiness, nothingness, no sense of anything, nothing to latch onto. She doesn't speak, but remains intently focused on Teralous.

Thyana smiles with a nod of her head to his question, "Those investigating the assaults on Republic citizens found a ship, with a droid, and I believe a person, though I don't have the full report of that incident. The droid provided some information, as did some of those who fell victim to the attack, who seemed to have information planted in their minds pertaining to Ialdon as part of the mental effects of the assault."

Teralous listened to her words, his mind working, his brilliant eyes gleaming as he meticulously picked her every word apart. The occasional nods was his only response to the confession. If he was shocked at the news she imparted, it did not show in his features or in his aura.

She continues, "It is from piecing together these bits of information that we found you. Mere Deryn indicated that you did not wish to be found and that that was the reason behind the attacks, which had unplanned side-effects. Unfortunately, as a result of those attacks, I believe a great many people have now found you."

"You don't say, that is interesting, seeing as I am unaware of any expeditions outside of this planet. But I can assure you we will be happy to assist in any investigation you may need to hold. We are not an unreasonable people."

Teralous nods at her last, looking again over his shoulder, to have a scribe furiously scribble notes. Sera would note the tendrils were clearly connected to the other junior acolytes. "So mental attacks you say?"

Thyana smiles with a respectful bow of her head again, "We would be most delighted to collaborate with you and your government on this. I can certainly petition the leaders of the Republic to provide your government with all the details of what we have obtained through our investigations." She nods, "Yes, they only affected those sensitive to... the Force, though I am to understand your beliefs about the Force are different from ours. However, in those who were Force-sensitive, emotional levels rose beyond control. Some nearly lost their lives to it."

Teralous continues to nod and sip his tea. "Your desire to cooperate is most appreciated. We are obviously concerned about outsider interference in our ways and customs. We are aware of this force you speak of, but you must understand that to discuss this out in the open, would only serve to confuse the faithful."

"While we have some among our people who are blessed by the Great Presence with gifts, that seem strange or unusual, we do not prescribe to your notions of the force."

Thyana pauses for a moment, her head tilted as she looks at Brother Teralous with genuine curiosity, "To confuse them with the difference between the Force and the Presence?"

Thyana nods, "Are there many among your people who are blessed with such gifts by the Great Presence? So far everyone we have met has been so blessed."

Teralous looks up from his tea. "Yes, that is correct. On our planet, your ideals would be considered blasphemy and I would like to avoid any..." Again the pause for the right words. "Unfortunate outcomes of such."

Thyana nods, "As would we, and we certainly would not want to interfere with or disrupt local beliefs or customs. We can try to avoid referring to the Force, however, given what Mere Deryn told us, I would feel it disrespectful of your beliefs to instead describe our gifts as gifts from the Great Presence. We share similar gifts, but we do not know the Great Presence, and therefore receive no gifts from her. We would not want to suggest otherwise and also run the risk of blasphemy."

She smiles at him, again her look curious, "How would it be best for us to refer to our gifts, or to what we refer to as the Force or Force sensitives, while we are in your presence?"

Teralous nods. "You have encountered mostly people from our Order, and they are often blessed, which is why they are in the Order." He sets his empty tea cup on the slaves hand and pushes him away.

"I can see how a discussion of that nature might be difficult, I would find it best if you kept the use of your abilities to a minimum here, as to lessen the opportunities to have such discussion, you understand of course?"

Thyana smiles and bows her head again, "Of course, Brother Teralous that is most logical. However... my understanding from Mere Deryn, is that you are to interrogate us and... judge us... In the interest of you having the most complete understanding of us as possible, we will need to discuss such things. Unless you prefer to leave such things unspoken, even if they might be a useful part of your own investigation."

Teralous nods. "That is my role here, yes and I am quite aware of your talents." He turns his gaze to Sera. "For instance, you speak of cooperation and peace, yet this one actively works against my attempts to root out deception in your speech, as I do not have actions to judge by at the moment."

Thyana maintains her warm smile, but turns to Sera, nodding gently to her.

Sera smiles gently at Teralous, "Please understand, given the nature of the attacks that occurred against our people, our... caution when we sense one reaching for our minds as you have been doing. You have one action to judge by at the moment, in that I have simply put up a passive shield and have not reached for your mind in a similar way, though I could." She pauses for a moment. "Is your intention only to judge the truth of what we say?"

Teralous smiles politely, but continues. "So tell me, what do you know of our laws and traditions here?"
Teralous looks to Sera again. "My purpose, is to judge the truth of why you are here, and that would include the voracity of your statements, yes."

Sera smiles, "Very little. Nothing beyond what we gleaned from Mere Deryn. But we would very much like to learn." She stares at him for a long moment, then nods briefly to Thyana who returns the nod. She looks at Teralous with a gentle smile, "You may look then." Instantly the shields are down and the tendrils can reach into both minds freely.

Teralous nods, his face blank. "I believe it may be beneficial to discuss some of our local laws and customs so that you do not find yourselves astray of them, hmm?"

Teralous allows his tendrils to just probe the surface, clearly his intent is to judge their responses, not probe deeper, for now.

Thyana speaks again, still smiling warmly, "That would be most appreciated, Brother Teralous."

"We are a matriarchal society. The High Matriarch is our spiritual and political leader."

"She oversees the faithful and is the eyes and the voice of the Great Presence.”

The tendrils would find sincerity in their answers, definite caution, a certain distrust based upon the events that led them to the planet, but a genuine curiosity to get to know these people, and an honest desire to not harm or disrespect their ways and beliefs.

Both Thyana and Sera listen intently, nodding acknowledgement of the information given, but not interrupting.

"She is joined in ruler ship by the Council of Matriarchs. Seven in total, each of whom rule over specific aspects of our government." He continues.

"Our geography is broken into holds, which are ruled over by Matrons."

"Each hold may have one town or many. Those are ruled by Meres, like the one you met here in Gulen."

Teralous pauses to allow time for the information to settle, his tendrils simply passively probing their reactions to the information, to establish a baseline for his next streak of information.

Thyana simply listens with periodic nods. Sera smiles, clearly enjoying learning.

Teralous decides to expand his baseline. "As you have witnessed here slavery is quite normal in this society. There are simply some Ialu who are not worthy or capable of taking care of themselves. So they are caste to serve those who can." He yanks on a chain and the male servant he had pushed away earlier stumbled into the room, falling on his hands and knees, scraping them on the stone flooring. He apologizes to the Brother before holding his hands up in prostration to the clergyman.

Teralous allows the scene to unfold, reaching with his mind to gauge their reaction to this display.

Thyana, with many years of control, maintains a neutral emotional state, nodding, "There are other cultures we are familiar with where slavery is part of the cultural fabric, though it is a practice banned within the Republic." Sera's heart lurches as she sees the treatment given. She says nothing and shows nothing, but the tendrils would sense a great sadness on her part in reaction. Not disapproval or revulsion, simply sadness.

Teralous seems to look to Sera as he resumes his speech. "Yes, I am aware of such things, although it creates inefficient work forces and subjects others to lives of suffering, I understand." Teralous continues. "I will not go over our belief systems with you, as I hardly can do them justice. What else would you know?"

Sera smiles, her innocent love of learning taking the forefront quickly again as she jumps in to reply, "Everything we can!"

Teralous looks at the young woman. "That would take some time, and I am sure you have more pressing matters to research."

Thyana holds back a mixture of chuckle and frown at her Padawan, turning back to Teralous after her brief look to Sera, asking softly, "What are your laws regarding outsiders, such as us? What are your laws regarding, specifically, Jedi?"

Sera simply nods quietly, focused once again on the purpose of their investigation to Ialdon.

Teralous ponders the question momentarily. "Mostly, the laws in this land are the same as any other. Do not steal, do not kill. We are a highly devoted people, so I would also avoid discussions of the force with others."

Teralous frowns slightly. "I would also hope you would refrain from using your gifts, while here. There should be no need for them. And there are no specific laws about the Jedi here."

Teralous raises a brow. "And if you would kindly hide your light swords. Or preferably leave them somewhere else."

"The local magistrates should be able to keep the peace and prevent you from needing them, while your here."

Thyana nods, "Of course. We will refrain from any such discussion. And we would make use of our gifts only with your permission or for self-defense. A Jedi is taught to never part from their lightsaber, but we can stow ours carefully under our clothing, so that none will see them." She decides to prod a little more with her words, "And the judgment Mere Deryn spoke of?"

Teralous nods as he hands them both their comms back and returns their light sabers.

"I have heard what I need to for now. But I do have a few of my own questions."

Both women take their equipment and set it all on the nearest bed for the moment. Thyana nods, "Please, ask, then I may have a few more questions for you, Brother Teralous."

Teralous nods. "Of course, I am here to serve the will of the Presence. Earlier you spoke of images in the minds of those whom attacked you, which lead you here, what sort of images did you come across?"

Thyana thinks back to their interview with Dassalya and Abethul, "Not images, rather information pieces. Coordinates, the name Ialdon, pieces of information that when pieced together by many of those affected led them to discover of the ship, of the droid and of this planet. I'm afraid I don't have a complete list of what information was received as I only spoke to two who were affected by this attack."

Teralous nods. "I see, would you be so kind as to focus your concentration on those interviews and pull the memories of them to your mind?"

She adds a correction, "And they were planted in the minds of those attacked, not in the minds of those who attacked." Thyana nods, kneeling to facilitate the meditative state that will allow her to clearly focus on the memories, understanding what Teralous seeks. She takes a deep breath and lets the Force flow through her, letting the memory of the interview surface, replay in full detail, slowly, patiently.

The tendrils moved with a practiced speed. Quickly enveloping her mind, Teralous closed his eyes and concentrated on the images that were freely flowing to him, as if watching a holo. A frown playing on his face for just a moment, and then his eyes were open again.

"Thank you that is all I need. Now what else might I answer for you?"

Thyana opens her eyes, though she remains kneeling, at ease, "Brother Teralous, I realize that you are not in a governing position, not even a female in this matriarchy, so I realize you may not have answers to my questions, but I hope that you would ensure they are forwarded to your government. Firstly, we would like to know if your government would be interested in or even willing to establish relations with the Republic, diplomatic relations, perhaps further relations of trade of knowledge and resources further on. I don't doubt that you realize that the Republic is currently at war with the Sith Empire. We don't wish to drag anyone else into this ugly war, but, in our experience, the Empire has rarely left any planet a choice, once they are aware of it, and, I won't pretend otherwise, we are always eager for new allies. I would also ask if you can help us ascertain the origin of the attacks on our people and that they will not occur again. Finally, as we have understood that you have been dealing with the aftermath of an explosion of some sort, if there is any assistance we can provide, we would be happy to do so."

Teralous nods. "Your observations do you credit. I of course will open the necessary dialogues with the council of Matriarchs, as to their interests, I would not dare to speculate. The minds of the Matriarchs are beyond the fathoming of one such as myself."

Thyana smiles and nods, "Thank you very much Brother Teralous. And we will, of course, remain at your disposal, should you have any further questions for us."

Sera hesitates a moment, then speaks up, "May I also make a request?"

"As for your request for assistance in your investigation, I will see what my connections can come up with. We are questioning some people in regards to it presently."

Thyana nods, "That is greatly appreciated."

Teralous finishes by adding, "As for the explosion, it was caused by another off-worlder, hence our hesitation. I believe we will handle that internally."

Thyana frowns at this information, but simply bows her head in acknowledgement, asking nothing more.

Teralous looks to Sera. "What is it you request?"

Sera smiles gently, "While I realize we have an important investigation to undertake, not all of our time will be occupied by it. Would there be someone... of the faith... who could spend time teaching me," she glances briefly at Thyana, “or us, about your beliefs, about the Great Presence? I would very much like to learn more."

Teralous ponders her request, but decides to answer it in a roundabout way. He addresses Thyana. "You had asked about the judgment earlier. I am now ready to render my verdict."

"If you would care to hear it."

Any remaining tendrils would detect Sera's disappointment at the lack of an answer, but she doesn't show it, returning to her silent observations. Thyana gives a single nod of her head with a gentle smile, "We would, Brother Teralous."

Teralous motions over his shoulder and one of the acolytes begins to scribe.

"It is the judgment of the High Confessor of Furhaven that Jedi Knight Thyana will have full access to the people and locations of Ialu. On the petition of her student Sera, we cannot grant access. It is the finding of this confessor that she lacks the emotional maturity required to show the restraint required to travel among our people without interference. We grant her access to the library at Gulen and will see that a tutor of appropriate standing within the Order will be provider her, to study our faith. May the Great Presence watch over you and bless you during your stay."

"If there is nothing further?" He adds, motioning to the scribe that his judgment is rendered.

Thyana and Sera both acknowledge the judgment with a respectful bow of their heads, Sera's disappointment tempered by her excitement at the opportunity to learn. Thyana speaks, "I will return to our ship and report to the Jedi Council as to the promising overtures that have occurred between our people. I ask them to try to ensure that no other delegation from the Republic is sent to Ialdon until your government indicates a readiness to welcome such a delegation. I trust that you will be able to provide my Padawan an appropriate escort to the library where she is to study?"

Teralous rises to his feet, his long black robes falling around him. The crimson highlights seeming to stand out even more in contrast to the black. Turning to leave both would notice a large crimson eye in the center of the back of his robes. "I will make sure that the Mere provides her with a suitable escort, of course."

Thyana stands and bows deeply to Teralous, Sera follows with a similar deep bow as Thyana speaks for them, "You have our profound respect and appreciation, Brother Teralous."

Teralous nods, as he put his heavy cloak on and wraps it around him, the white fur of the collar a stark contrast to the rest of the dark colors. "You may find, that my judgment may not be all you seek it to be. This is a land of many mysteries and many more zealots. A simple misstep may be one's last here. I will send a magistrate to escort you to your vessel, so that he may go over our more serious laws with you, before you wander on your own."

Thyana nods, "That is greatly appreciated. We wish to avoid any even minor transgressions."

Thyana smiles, a touch of her playful tone shown with the Mere surfacing, "You have not sentenced us to death for setting foot on your world, nor sent us away, that is already a great deal of what we sought in your judgment."

Teralous nods as he exits the room, the doors close behind him. He looks to the guards posted outside. "The older one may leave in the company of a magistrate, the younger will be collected by a prelate of the Order. Tell the magistrate we will be keenly interested in his instructions to the Jedi, and that we understand if he is to forget to include one of the capitol offenses as there are so many."