In Time [FWC Dominion of Onderon]

[Glory]

[member="Laira Vereen"]


Glory could not quite resist the stab of guilt about leaving Laira and the Qadiri Sepoy to fight this creature. She knew intellectually that her lack of Force powers would have made her a liability rather than asset, but it still gnawed at her. However, she had other concerns right now. The cultists were trying to pull off a fighting retreat, but they did not make it easy for their pursuers. The Firemane squad was on their heels, like a pack of bloodhounds.


Sergeant Blade's cannon produced a thunderous roar as it spat out rounds, dropping two militants. Such was the power of these bullets that they pretty much drilled through the cultists. "Grenade!" came a sudden yell of alarm from one of the soldiers, and Glory looked away from the retreating cultists she had been firing at, to see a deadly ball fly towards them.


"Spread out and take cover," she bellowed. The Dahomian threw herself to the ground, as shrapnel tore through the air with blast and heat. There was a loud noise, almost strong enough to deafen her. She was grateful about her suit's sonic dampeners. "Casualty report!"


"I have one wounded. Medic is on the spot."


"Get him out of the firing line. Rest of you, pursue." Pain spiked through her as she got up. Perhaps a shard of shrapnel had hit a weak spot. But she was pumped full of adrenaline. Ahead of her, she heard gunfire, yells and screams. There was a loud detonation when Blade gave the cultists a taste of their own medicine by lobbing an incendiary grenade their way.


The result was burning cultists. A whiff of burning flesh found its way through the air filters of her helmet. Two cultists caught her eye as she pressed onward through the bushes. She leapt into action, firing a burst from her rifle. Her salvoe put high-velocity pellets into the cultist's throat and faceplate. His broken visor was stained with blood and the man toppled to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been pulled.


Her rifle clicked when she pressed the trigger once more, and so instead Glory crashed into the second cultist. He was dragged down amidst a tangle of limbs and armour. Both of them wrestled, struggling for dominance as they tried to throw the other off. With a Dahomian war cry on her lips, Glory drew her vibroknife, engraved with Dahomian tribal symbols, as her opponent managed to get on top of her and pin her down beneath him. The knife moved up, right into the cultist's armpit, and the man's body jerked as pain shot through him. Cursing, Glory pushed the wounded man off her, pulled out her pistol and shot him in the face.


xxx


To say that Hazani was scared would be an understatement. Nothing had prepared her for any of this. But she took heart when the firemaned human woman unleashed her Zari, burying her spear deep into the ground. Tiny shards were propelled through the air towards the smokey form of the beast. The Qadiri warrior could not tell whether this onslaught would hurt the abomination, but the display of power made her feel more confident.


Still, there was deep pain where the Smoke Demon's talons had sliced her. It went beyond the physical, though that was horrible enough. As blood dripped from a wound inside a hip joint, she was flooded with horrible visions of agony. She did not see the smokey form of the construct, but the bronze skin and cruel eyes of an old, malevolent mistress. This was not possible. The Qadiri trembled, her grip on her weapon slackened and she seemed to buckle under the strain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Laira, who was down on one knee, and clearly in the throes of pain.


A feeling of shame flooded her, turning to anger. Cursing in her native tongue, she thrust the sharp end of her Force imbued blade towards what sort of looked like the stomach of the abomination that wore the face of a demon from the past. Her strike was aggressive and lacking in discipline due to it. She was fortunate that the smoke demon was focusing more on Laira.

 

[Andulf Nicholas Teraan]

Location: Iziz Royal Gala

[member="Claire Organa"] | [member="Relina Zhan"]

It was then thought he tried hard to keep his composure and do justice to the appointment given him deep inside he could help but feel it wasn't enough. For if truth be told as much he hates to admit it he didn't much have the same knack for all this political or diplomatic stuff as his twin sister. As most his life seems much like sun and moon of old Alderaan the twins were quite the opposite of the other. Where in of the two his sister was the more responsible one and he was more the wayward one. Stubborn as much he was independent-minded.... there been much in his youth that he dare not hope to be known outside the family which his parents had made sure of.

Drown out all of it with well carefully plan distraction or such like covering up his absence during the time of the Republic conflict. But then again it seems soon enough as his thoughts return to the present. Another figure joins them and call away Countess Faith to mee with their Host and catch her glance back at him along with the Duch'a. He passingly smiles and nods in her direction as if to silence show his support of her. Keep her in his sight till she disappeared behind the ornate doors which he assumed their host was. And it was at that time that a figure in the sideline caught his attention briefly before disappearing. At which time he stay and continued to converse with the Duch'a till she returns with small talk and some exchange of engaging conversation. Where in the two talk to discuss their respective culture and such in an attempt to better understand the other.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

Coal black eyes looked down on the wounded princess, a sadistic smile worn on a face covered with grey and black stubble. The being's hair was long, covered in sweat and grime, blood spattered the armor and robes it wore. Laira recognized every feature of the being, except it seemed so foreign. Her father's form loomed over her, hatred and fear bubbling outwards, pulsing through her senses. It seemed so very real to the redhead even if her mind kept telling her it was an illusion.

Having never confronted such a creature she was totally unaware that a smoke demon could take the form of that which its opposition feared most, and apparently for Laira it was the form of her Father, twisted and corrupted by the Dark Side. "All roads lead back to me, ner ad'ika." The creature struck her across the face with a heavy guantleted fist, sending her sprawling into the dirt and leaves face first. Blood trickled from her nose and lip, mixing with the dirt. She had been hear so many times, in the dirt and sand, bleeding and in pain. Her father standing over her, taunting her to get up and keep fighting. It felt like her most common memory was him teaching her how to fend for herself, how to fight, but this time it was so different. It didn't feel like a mentor pushing a beloved student to do better but like a monster tormenting its prey before a meal.

Grey eyes peered through the dirt, looking back at the beast trying to build some kind of defiant heart to get up and teach it a lesson. Just as she moved to one knee, pain radiating from the deep laceration in her leg, the illusion shifted. She saw her father's kind eyes and smile, the face and expression she remembered so well. With each lesson followed heart felt advise from the old man, and her memory told her it was that time once more. She relaxed for an instant when a spear plunged through her Father's stomach, her spear. Behind her father she stood, burning yellow eyes, corruption across her otherwise perfect features, and hatred burning through the Force. "No!" her voice was hoarse, rasping through the air as she cried, tears streaking her face.

"It's not real, its not real." she muttered seeing the image flash before her over and over. <Find the center within yourself. It will be the only constant in your universe.> The old proverb blazed through her mind, burning in the forefront of her memory. <Stand in their shoes. See it from their side, every enemy can become a friend.> Her mother's wisdom and father's advise helped stablize the young woman, <Courage is found only when you are afraid. It takes fear to find that part of yourself.> opening her eyes through the illusion. Only an instant had passed, the Qadiri had skewered the smokey form of the demon as it shrieked, heavily wounded and its connection fading.

Laira pulled upon the Force, drawing deeply on the calm center she had found at the moment of her desperation. The power of the Force funneled into her veins, channeling through her body and into the spear she held in her hand, a glimmering aura ensorcelling the weapon. From one knee the flame haired princess lounged with the weapon, the haft elongating as she did so until it pierced the creature's chest opposite of the Qadiri's blade.

[member="Glory"]

 

[The Story Narrator]

He tracked her as she moved simple elegance the way she held her head, the way she made the deep curtsy of respect these things did not make her noble they made her teachable. The street rat had come a long way since her days on Balmorra as a child.

Keeping himself out of sight he counted to himself the number of observers. Many of them would support this new monarchy if Alderaan did. Did it though? Look at Claire's face she looks like she just ate something terrible. Yeah. Claire didn't but he would pay dollar to donuts that the Queen did, and a good messenger like Claire always supported her Queen.

She had no mind of her own. Shaking his head in disappointment that she was so weak that she didn't speak her own mind.

Just another reason why his employer wanted retribution. The woman was a puppet of a monarchy of hippies and free spirits they wouldn't know war if it jumped up and bit them.

Again he waited, there would be time...

 

[Garith Darkhold]

Onderon
The Gala Party

This was an uncommon occurrence.

A tall dark haired man moved through the crowed towards the open bar. He looked rather uncomfortable. Maybe it was the environment. Maybe it was because he was wearing a tailored suit and not his ancient beskar’gam.

For whatever reason the Elder Dark Kashi was here wearing stylish dark colored suit. That and he were refilling his empty glass with Corellian Whiskey.

 

[Glory]

[member="Laira Vereen"]


Hazani cried out in anguish when one of the Smoke Demon's spike tendrils struck her. Blood poured out of an open wound. However, her blade still struck true and pierced the creature's centre. Before her eyes she saw a nightmarish abomination. She fell to the ground, still clinging to the weapon's hilt.


In the same moment Laira had struck, with her spear, using the wisdom her parents had taught her to overcome the Smoke Demon's vile sorcery. The abomination roared one last time. It was a deafening scream that made the Qadiri feel as if her eyes were about to burst, with blood seeping out of them.


Then finally the Smoke Demon was dissipated, fading away. Hazani gasped for breath, greedily sucking oxygen into her lungs. Her heart was thumping loudly inside her chest. "By the ancestors, what was this abomination?" she exclaimed, looking towards the red-maned human for answers. Then Laira's comm beeped. The caller was Glory.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

The beast dissipated, its smoke vanishing into the air as it was vanquished by the Qadiri and redhead. "I'm not sure, some kinda dark side spirit is my guess." She groaned, pain radiating from her injured face. If only her father had taught her how to make Smoke Demons of her own, she might have understood them.

Thigh deeply lacerated and blood still flowing freely from the wound, tired from her heavy exertion of the Force in such a short period of time, and her otherwise pretty face covered with dirt, a busted lip, and bleeding from her nose. At least her nose didn't appear broken and she still looked alright for someone that had just been in a fight. "You alright hun?" She asked, seeing the Qadiri's own injuries. Laira scooched across the loam and leaves to sit beside the Firemane woman, sidling up to her as closely as possible. "Here," she pulled on a little leather cord around her neck, pulling a slightly glowing gemstone from under her shirt and widening the cord until both women could fit their heads through it. "Wear this with me. Its a healing necklace, might keep us from bleeding out."

Buzzing eminated from her wrist, a blinking light and caller ID showing her who was attempting to communicate with the Princess in disguise. "Oof, its your boss Hanzi. She's probably gonna be a little upset." She sighed and clicked the comm to answer, "Go for Laira. We need a medic."

[member="Glory"]

 

[Claire Organa]

Claire moved through the crowd uncertain of how to explain what she felt those eyes just stripped away all her reserve. What was the family up to?

She couldn't accuse them of anything they had just met. Oh goodness. She looked back were they watching she wasn't watching and ran right into [member="Garith Darkhold"] . "OH " What was his title? Did he have one?

Holy smokes.

Uncle. Was he her Uncle. Geez she didn't know.

"Evening" She sighed heavily. " I didn't know you were coming" a long pause. "Sir" when in doubt.

Feth where was [member="Relina Zhan"] and [member="Andulf Nicholas Teraan"]

 

[Andulf Nicholas Teraan]

[member="Relina Zhan"] | [member="Garith Darkhold"] | [member="Claire Organa"] | [member="The Story Narrator"]​

​

It was then all the while conversing with the Duch'a for a bit that he couldn't help glance about for a while. Note to see where the Countess was thought he'd passingly heard her being called off he couldn't help but feel a tad responsible for her. Being that for one part his come here other than to represent their house was to play escort to her. As for one, there where a stranger in a strange somewhat albeit unstable planet where its leadership was seemed highly contested thought hidden well behind the mask of all this pomp and pageantry of normalcy.

That it was only when he notices catch a glimpse of her exit the door back to the room they were all gathered. Looking somewhat uneasy from the look of it .... of what or whom he was unsure. But just the same seem drawn to check on her that he momentarily excused himself saying he was going get them some refreshment and slowly head her way towards her. When from the corner of his sight another figure came to block his sight of her and that when he got close enough to regain sight of her. That he come unexpectantly see she appear been with someone whom he could not recognize is that he had his back towards him. That he notice a server with drinks pass his way that he slip grab two and head her way. Pausing just enough been earshot of her he spoke.

" Countess Claire care for some refreshment then? And ...my apologies I did not know or gotten notice of your arrival ."

He then pauses as in the foreground thru a personal com with one his guards they tried to confirm and inform him of the person of interest identity.

 

[Glory]

[member="Laira Vereen"]


"I am alive. May this vile spirit suffer eternal punishment." Pride made it difficult for the Qadiri warrior woman to admit she'd suffered injuries, but at the same time she was in pain and that was unpleasant. Furthermore, blood flowed from her wounds and she lacked the ability or experience to draw upon the Force to heal herself. Still, it could have been worse. Laira scooped over and shared a blessed amulet with her. At least that was how Hazani would have referred to it, possessing only extremely limited experiments with alchemised items. The young elf looked grateful. "Kashara preserve you."


At this moment Glory's call came through. The Dahomian soldier sounded gruff as wasthe norm., but also a bit concerned. "Acknowledged. Medic's on the way."
There was a pause before she added, "Hazani's alive?"


The Qadiri leaned towards the strange talking machine. She did not understand how it worked, except that Outsiders could somehow use it to communicate over vast distances. "Yes, ma'am. I am live. We triumphed over the spirit."


"Good work. Stay where you are. We're heading back to you," then Glory cut the connection. Back on the hills the battle had come to an end. Most of the cultist's goons had perished. One had been captured. Glory shot him a glare. "Get him over here. He's coming with us." They had questions and stuff. "And where the hell did you come from?" she demanded when the Regent suddenly popped up out of nowhere. She'd sort of track of him.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"The Cult's leader, or officer was attempting to summon more specters. I took care of him." The Regent's white eyes looked over the injured of the Firemane force and the remaining Ranger, the other was dead somewhere in the ravine. His armor bore several scorch marks and dents from what could have been a battle, and there was more than enough blood spatter to suggest he had slain at least one thing. "Perhaps we should place locator beacons and fall back. Your people look like they could use a respite. I doubt the cult's base of operations is right here, though I suspect it to be nearby." Though an aristocrat and a nobleman, he seemed somewhat concerned with the welfare of the troops in the area.

Laira sat shoulder to shoulder with Hanzi, letting the amulet do its best to heal them. It was about as good as being dropped in a bacta tank, capable of warding off infection and assisting in regeneration, however open wounds took a lot of time to heal regardless. Better than nothing however. Laira flexed her foot on her injured leg, searing pain rippling through her lacerated thigh causing her to wince. "Hanzi, I still look okay right?" She asked with a toothy smile, blood from her lip having seeped into her mouth. The princess was a bit vain and worried about her appearance, but also proud of bearing the occasional battle wound. Scars, not so much.

It could be worse, she supposed, they could be dead. The medic arrived shortly, stopping to look them over and perform triage without separating the two female warriors at Laira's insistence. The amulet was doing more than a few bandages could have managed, no use taking it away from either one of them. The Medic jabbed her leg with a needle, injecting some sort of mush that would assist in clotting the bleeding in the muscle before stapling the wound closed. Within a minute or so the doctor was hard at work fixing up Hanzi in a similarly brutal yet effective manner.

[member="Glory"]

 

[Glory]

[member="Laira Vereen"]


Glory gave the nobleman a look, then nodded grimly. "Agreed. Boys, set up the beacons. Then move out. We'll fall back, regroup and plan our next move," she ordered. The soldiers could use a brief rest, which would also allow them to treat the wounded. "Ngesinye isikhathi ngingathanda impi ngaphandle kobuciko bomlingo," she muttered to herself in her native tongue. [Just once I'd like a battle without stupid magic]


Her eyes fell upon the captured cultist. He had a leg wound and a concussion, but still looked defiant and pissed off. "I will tell you nothing. The Great One will not be defied." he declared ominously. It remained to be seen whether he'd still be this defiant after they'd had a chat with him.


"Whatever," Glory spoke dismissively. While a fellow soldier held him down, the Captain proceeded to make sure their prisoner was probably restrained and collared. For some obscure reason, she was quite good at tying people up, and so his limbs were shackled.


Meanwhile, Hazani sat next to Laira while the mystical amulet did its work. She did not quite understand how it worked and probably thought it was something close to magic, but it made her feel better. She furrowed her brow when the redmaned human suddenly asked her how she looked. Was this a trick question? The human had strange priorities.


"You still look very pretty," she said after a moment of thought. "You should not move your foot though." The medic arrivd and initiated the first aid course. Hazani winced and looked away when the human jabbed a needle in her skin. She was no stranger to pain, but the medicine Outsiders practiced unnerved her in many ways. Still, it seemed to help out.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"Good. I have a thing about not getting scars." Laira kept grinning despite the pain she was in. It was receding due to the pain killers and numbing agents she'd been jabbed with, but the dull burning ache was still there. The medic wrapped her leg in a bacta gel bandage, carefully ensuring to wrap her thigh tightly enough that it would hold and help stop the bleeding from the slash. "I know its vain, but you know how it is. Young and carefree, I don't wanna end up looking Vong-scarred before I turn twenty."

The redhead kept talking, more or less making small talk with the Qadiri fighter after their little scrap. She didn't want to think about what she had seen, what she had heard from the demon, but it hung there in her mind. A puzzle. <All roads lead back to me, ner ad'ika.> She knew her father had once been a Sith Lord, and by his own retelling of the story he had never been the same afterwards. As well adjusted as he'd become, he often counseled her and her brother that once one falls, even if they come back, it is much easier to fall again. Perhaps deep in her chest that's what she feared most, turning her back on her family completely and ending up the instrument by which they fall.

The Lord Regent walked up, his blue and gold armor damaged and battered. "Ah, Ranger Darkhold you're alive. The Firemane forces have decided to fall back and regroup, perhaps now would be a good time to take you to a proper medical facility." Without their leader they wouldn't have the power and experience to craft a proper Sith Ritual. And it was in the Regent's best interests that the Rangers not press on.

~

Location Unknown.

"The Hounds have found something... special, my Lord." A cold, wimpish voice echoed through the darkened chamber. The only light in the chamber pulsated from the Sith Lord's mask, tiny LED lights that glowed as air was expelled from it when the being exhaled. The shadow of the Sith Lord was indescribable by the robed figure.

"Yes." A hoarse rasp eminated from the mask, a deep rumbling growl as though from a very large canine shook the room. "I have seen it."

[member="Glory"]

 

[Glory]

[member="Laira Vereen"]


Though she'd decided to pull back, Glory had no intention of giving up the chase. "Set up up perimeter security. Blade, you're in charge. Take this piece of chit to the stream down there," she ordered, then marched towards her prisoner. The cultist had been bound and collared. His eyes blazed with hatred.


"Where is the Sith base?" she demanded. He said nothing. That was fine. She knew a bit about handling uncooperative prisoners. "This was no run-of-the-mill patrol that just happened to be in the area. Otherwise there would not have been a demon summoner. So it must be close."


"I have nothing to say to you. This jungle will be your grave."


"Whatever," without further warning she grabbed the prisoner by the neck and plunged his head into the water of the stream. He struggled against her, but she was a strong woman and so her grip was tight. She held him down there for long enough that it would feel like drowning to him, then pulled him up. "Where is the base?"


He spat, coughing up water. "What will you do if I don't tell you? Kill me? Go ahead, and you will learn nothing."


"No. I'll make you suffer - for every second you waste my time. If you talk, I'll cut things short and kill you clean," she said softly, intently. "Where is the base?" He said nothing, and so she plunged his head down into the stream once more. This continued for a bit. Eventually, she moved towards breaking fingers, among other things. Finally, he talked. She killed him clean with a blaster bolt in the back of his head. His corpse fell into the water.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"No Regent, I'll be fine until the force pulls out or the mission is complete." Despite being a Princess, and the Regent was well aware of that fact, she was also a dedicated Ranger. Laira didn't ask for or want special treatment just because of who her mother was, especially not when her comrades were injured or dead already and those amenities hadn't been extended their way. "I know I don't look it, but I am a warrior. I don't need handouts."

Throughout the 'interrogation' the Regent seemed very distant, as though actively attempting not to see or hear what the Firemane captain was doing. He went so far as to ignore everyone in the group completely until she was done. Laira chalked it up to his knightly honor being besmirched by such dishonorable tactics. If the Rangers had taken the captive they would have administered a powerful truth serum and interrogated the man after several hours of sensory deprivation, which may have been more humane but hardly as effective.

As the Captain finished, Laira jerked at the sound of her blaster firing, closing her eyes. "Well? Did you get what you were looking for?" Her voice seemed saddened or disappointed by the necessity of it all.

Regent Girard continued to stand motionless well away from the stream, starring off into the jungle where the cultists had fled off to. They were taking time to cover their tracks according to the remaining Ranger, but the Regent had simply continued starring without moving so much as a muscle in acknowledgement.

The rain seemed to be letting up, now only a light drizzle over the jungle.

[member="Glory"]

 

[Glory]

[member="Laira Vereen"]


Firemane's intelligence branch made use of the so called Five Techniques. Sometimes they also utilised truth serums. However, Glory was an old school soldier who'd gotten her education in the tribal wars that had once been endemic on Dahomey. Given her boss' views on Sith, she did not have to be concerned about unpleasant consequences. Indeed, Lady Kerrigan would have distrusted a confession from a Sith that was extracted without any form of physical coercion. Firemane had rules about the humane treatment of POWs, but these did not apply to slavers, traitors or Sith.


Having finished her work, the Captain holstered her blaster pistol and returned to the group. Her knife was stained with blood. "Yes," she said flatly. "They're hidden beneath a waterfall close to us. How dramatic. He described it as, I quote, 'a wellspring of the Great One's power'." She did not actually use air quotes because that was not a Glory thing to do.


"Are you able to fight." she asked Hazani. Her tone was commanding, but showed actual concern. "Be honest."


"Yes, ma'am. I'm a soldier. I don't want to be send back to the rear. I can slay our enemies."


"Good. You?" her dark eyes turned towards Laira.

 

[Laira Darkhold]

"Yes I can fight." Laira kinda looked at Hanzi, aware that one of them was going to have to give up the little necklace around their necks at the moment. "Here, you can keep the necklace for now." She grinned again as she pulled the leather cord from around her own neck. "I'll get it back from you when its all over, okay?" The Qadiri had taken a little more of a beating than she had anyway. She needed it more than Laira.

As soon as the necklace was off, the difference was noticeable. It wasn't debilitating, but the change was painful enough to elicit a mild wince for the redhead. She stood up, wiping dirt, loam, and leaves from her bottom.

"Regent Girard, we're moving out." She called, trying to walk out the slight limp in her stride. The Regent finally reacted, raising an eyebrow in her direction but not looking at the princess.

"Oh? Very well." He turned on his heal, his hand gripping the woman's arm tightly as though to assist her with the difficult terrain. His voice a low whisper he spoke, "I learned they have a Grimoire from the Summoner. We cannot allow it to leave with our... friends." White eyes scanned across the Firemane group. "Such a text could cause great damage in the wrong hands."

"Uh, okay I guess. I'm sure they won't mind us disposing of it." She responded, not really doing a great job of being discrete like the Regent was.

"Hush child. Alderaan will take and dispose of the book, and they needn't even know of it." Deception was not normally something a Knight pressed for, but his words made some sense. Firemane wasn't exactly known for being staunchly lightsided, though Laira didn't intend on keeping it secret from them.

[member="Glory"]

 

[Garith Darkhold]

The Edler Kashi looked up from his whiskey. Someone had just called him SR? Honestly he had not recognized [member="Claire Organa"]’s voice, at first. A young lady who was his niece? Surprised to see her, he was about to speak.

Well, Garith was about to speak to her. The words almost left his mouth. Someone had interrupted him. It was a man’s voice. So the Elder Kashi slowly turned to look at this man. Garith was silent; no words spoken not even a growl as Garith turned around. He just looked over [member="Andulf Nicholas Teraan"] with the chilly eyes of a predator… deciding what to do with his prey.


In Garith’s opinion these days these kids had no respect. "This young man was on a date with my niece?" The young man had just got a drink for Claire. It seemed like the logical conclusion? “I had no idea my niece was even old enough to date”, the Elder stamen almost sounded like a question. “Is she is old enough to drink”, another statement that almost sounded like a question.


During this whole time Garith’s eyes never left Andulf as he was trying to determine how he felt. “Know this young man. Don’t hurt her. You will not get an Alderaan court room. You will just get my version of justice.” Garith did not mention what kind of justice that would be. Those who really know him knew it would be painful and bloody.

 

[Andulf Nicholas Teraan]

Location: Iziz Royal Gala

[member="Claire Organa"] | [member="Relina Zhan"] | [member="Garith Darkhold"]


It was then between trading glances with Countess Claire and the unknown hulking individual who at best he could tell was perhaps. Could be or not be acquainted with Countess Claire judging from the sharp dagger looks he'd been giving his way. Which onto itself sent chill down his spine and were as best he could say was however strange or weird it might be or sound. Predatory in nature of which reminded him of the old nature holovid the professor use to show back over in the university and at the dig site he was in once. Which all the while silencing him in a way thought the man spoke

"This young man was on a date with my niece?"


And in turn seems still able to hold his own as the stranger continued on as he could surmise that it was safe to assume they were indeed related. Given he'd seem caught him say she was her niece? Which for him was kinda off as having accompanied his late father since he was but a small boy during his time in the Alderaanian court. Did not or seem couldn't recall his face though he thought could be wrong as that had been so long ago and that later on in his life he slowly tapper off tag along when he got older. So he could be wrong in his presumption so he let it be for now as he seems missed much what been said after as he was caught debate the matter at hand in his mind. But by then once his attention returns to the stranger who seems still intent on staring him down intensely spoke.

“Know this young man. Don’t hurt her. You will not get an Alderaan courtroom. You will just get my version of justice.”

That he then stand his ground replied back albeit he was still totally confused as to who he was replied.

"That sir is the farthest thing in my mind as if anything my presence here is by the behest and request of her highness. And i would not dare do anything to betray such confidence."

 

[Glory]

[member="Laira Vereen"]


Firemane was indeed not light-sided. It was morally grey on a good day. However, at times the actions of some 'Jedi' made it look like a paragon in comparison, which was all sorts of wrong since it was governed by the whims of an unfettered autocrat who ruled from a gilded lion throne, but this one digresses.


"I will return it to you," Hazani promised the scarlet-maned human before taking off to fall in with the rest of the Firemane unit. However, she could not help notice that the Regent had pulled Laira aside and that both were locked in conversation.


Sadly, even with her sensitive elf ears, she could not quite make out the details of their conversation, though they seemed to be in slight disagreement. "Move it, maggots. We're gonna go to this frakking waterfall, and kill every motherfrakking Sith we find!" Sergeant Blade bellowed in the timelessly crude manner of NCOs across armies, species and eras. Or maybe this one has just watched too many bad war movies.


"Ma'am, may I have a moment of your time?" even with the healing crystal, she had trouble walking fast, but Hazani still fell in line alongside the Captain.


"Something you want to share with the rest of the group, Hazani?"


"Well, yes," the Qadiri said a bit awkwardly. "It may be nothing...but I do not trust the old man. He was in conversation with Ranger Laira."


"Suspecting our allies of double-dealing is not something you should do lightly," Glory spoke sternly. "Continue."


"I did not quite understand what they were saying, but I believe he is hiding something. Something related to the evildoers," she cleared her throat a bit. "Laira is a good woman, but there is a cloud around him." Being a Qadiri, she knew all about that sort of thing.


Glory had her own suspicions about the Regent, ever since he'd vanished mid-battle. "Keep an eye on him."