It is not a way of Power, But a way of Peace [ Relocation of Pydyr ]

[Nohemi Allaneh]

~~~~} * { ~~~~


It was a fairly normal bodywood box by most standards, perhaps a bit lacking in decoration. It was hand carved at the very least, but no intricate design placed upon it to differentiate it from any other musical trinket box. Upon further investigation, even the most thorough of bio-scanners wouldn't find anything suspicious with the holo projected Ghostling ballerina.


Unless one knew exactly what to look for.


Only through Fallanassi methods would a well trained adept of the White Current be able to see the soft glowing glyphs inscribed upon the smooth wood grain. They were intricately inscribed through the use of the White Current, and would never fade away unless erased by the very same methods known to the Fallanassi. It was a perfect method to relay secret information to a select few, and thus how this particular music box, hand delivered by a handmaiden of the Order, found it's way into the hands of one Jaxton Ravos.


The sense scribing would reveal the method of opening the puzzle box within the trinket, allowing for the activation of a smaller holoprojector. Once activated, would reveal a small holo recording of a young woman, with skin as pale as snow and hair as black as ebony. She was petite of stature, but there was a purpose in her gaze, a regality in her delicate form.

Her master, Je'gan Olra'en, had disappeared and left the order after once again returning from the dead, and now despite the fall of the Sith Empire, the Republic was steadily following a path that would lead them into a place of rigid authority that went against the principles of her people. While she did spend years training as a Jedi to learn their ways, she knew perfectly well where her responsibility lay once her mother passed on.

There came a small dip of her head in greeting, then her head rose, her eyes reaching out beyond the holo recording to being her plea to a man she believed was her only hope.

For this very reason, she said the following within the encrypted holo-recording.

[ I am Nohemi Allaneh, ambassador to the Fallanassi and daughter to Niloo Van Dara Allaneh , leader of the current Order of the White Current. ]

There was no pause, no hesitation, for she had been taught to accept the nature of the galaxy as it was.


[ Master Ravos, I ask for your aid in finding sanctuary for myself and that of my people at Pydyr. ]

~~~~} * { ~~~~

Spoiler

@Ben Watts @Jericho @Jorus Merrill @Judah Dashiell @Kida Ravos @Michael Sardun @Roon Ganar @Rosa Mazhar @Seroth Ur-Rahn @Teynara Jeralyr @Thurion Heavenshield @Turin Val Kur

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

Jaxton was, as usual nowadays, goofing off with his little girl @[member="Kida Ravos"] when a courier came to him, and presented him with a fine wooden box. There were no frills or pretty paints, but the craftsmanship was obviously at a very high level, which likely meant something deliberate. He took a moment to ask if the courier knew what it was or who sent it, but the courier merely shrugged, saying he had gotten from another courier with the same instruction, who said he had gotten it from another courier. Care was made so it wasn't easily traceable, at least not by usual means, which likely meant that a very deliberate and sensitive message was sent. But who made boxes out of wood anymore? It was quite the mystery.

He took a moment to examine the box physically, but found no method of opening it. Whoever had sent it had covered their tracks well, perhaps too well. Next step was naturally an in-depth examination of the object through the Force. If Jaxton was talented in the art of psychometry it'd have made identifying the box's sender quite a bit easier, but Jaxton was no evil scientist Kiffar, and lacked such a talent. He did however have rather powerful sensory abilities in the Force otherwise, able to find the presences of the Force in people and objects with relative ease through long periods of practice and use of the talent. Through this Jaxton thought he felt something familiar, but wasn't quite sure. The Force was on the box he could tell, but not how it was imprinted. He could barely feel it, only a glimmer, but it was odd, different somehow. He tried to magnetize the object for a moment with Hassat-Durr, but that didn't work. What other techniques did he know?

White Current! Taught to him briefly by Ember Rekali when the two both served in the Jedi, and the pair was sent to track a Jedi who made use of the skill. Jaxton wasn't capable of forming huge illusions of ships or mirrored rooms, or completely hiding himself in Immersion, but he did know enough to hide his presence in the Force, as well as sense others who used it. Attempting this partial Immersion for the time in quite a while, suddenly symbols appeared on the box, like a puzzle. He played with them for a few moments, before the box finally opened a woman appeared to him in a holorecording, calling herself Nohemi Allaneh, and asking for help in finding sanctuary for her and the Fallanassi of Pydyr.

Jaxton played the image again and recorded it in a more conventional manner, before looking at a map and determining where Pydyr was exactly. Between Mandalorian and Mandolorian space they were in reach of expansino, and Jaxton could understand the need for help. He headed over to the Holotransciever and sent a message to the old Silent Conclave members, as well as his new apprentice and an old X-Wing pilot he'd come in contact with. Man was a salvager if he remembered correctly, and probably had a ship to help transport people.

"Hey guys, this is Jaxton. I'm sending you all a message I recently received from an Ambassador on Pydyr. She wants to find sanctuary for herself and her people, and I'm inclined to help. If any of you can come and help me negotiate and transport people I'd love all of your help, in getting as many bodies as we can out as fast as we can manage. I'll meet all of you there in four days time. Jaxton out."

@[member="Ben Watts"] @[member="Jorus Merrill"] @[member="Turin Val Kur"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Thurion Heavenshield"] @[member="Jericho"] @[member="Judah Dashiell"] @[member="Michael Sardun"] @[member="Roon Ganar"] @[member="Teynara Jeralyr"]

 

[Roon Ganar]

@[member="Jaxton Ravos"]
"Huff."
Kel Dor stared at the floor as it got closer to his goggle-covered eyes.
"Puff."
He watched it go back arm length away once more as he thought about all that was going on, him leaving the Republic and joining the Sanctum instead, the new war between Fringe and the Republic and Protectorate. He shook his head slightly, it was all troubling.
"Huff."
He watched the floor get closer as he lowered himself once more. He closed his eyes behind the goggles, emptying his mind, letting the Force run through him, feeling it and listening to it, its hum echoing in his ears like a rushing river.
"Puff."
He straightened his arms out once more, pushing out from the floor.

He did not get into his meditative state for too long, however, before long he heard-
BEEP-BEEP
His eyes opened
BEEP-BEEP
"Hrm."
He grunted slightly as he bent his knees, getting to his knee from his push-up position before he could stand up.

He walked over to his beeping datapad, tapping it he received the message, voice of Master Ravos emanated from it.
"Hey guys, this is Jaxton. I'm sending you all a message I recently received from an Ambassador on Pydyr. She wants to find sanctuary for herself and her people, and I'm inclined to help. If any of you can come and help me negotiate and transport people I'd love all of your help, in getting as many bodies as we can out as fast as we can manage. I'll meet all of you there in four days time. Jaxton out."
He nodded slightly as he listened to it, he set the datapad to send a transmission back
"Master Ravos, this is Padawan Ganar."
He said in that sexy, sexy deep drawl Kel Dor have
"I will be ready when the time comes."
He responded and sent the transmission.

With that, he walked back to his exercising spot in his small room, kneeling down so that he can continue with his push-ups. He had to be ready after all!

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa pulled pulled the holomap up as Jaxtons message played, before Nohemi's followed after. Relocating the people of the White Current was not small feat and with the mandalorians and the republic on its doorstep though she could not blame them. The Conclave had been in the same position, it had been the reason that the Sanctum had risen, the reason they had relocated themselves. Rosa still missed Teth though, she missed its jungles and the quite of the Silent Temple. But circumstances had forced their hand, and now they had a greater responsibility than just protecting each other. They had worlds to protect.

"Jaxton,I'm on my way. From what I know, this is not a small colony. We're going to need some big ships so I would give Jorus a heads up if you haven't already."

Having the people of the white current within Sanctum space would help buffer them against the rest of the galaxy. Rosa was curious about the current herself, perhaps there was an oppurtunity to learn here as well. She smiled to herself as the stars became streaks in the viewport, looking forward to a job that did not require any of them to raise a weapon.

@Ben Watts @Jorus Merrill @Turin Val Kur @Seroth Ur-Rahn @[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @Thurion Heavenshield @Jericho @Judah Dashiell @Michael Sardun @Roon Ganar @Teynara Jeralyr @[member="Nohemi Allaneh"]

 

[Seydon of Arda]

Indigo Reefs
~Arda - North Hemisphere [Serpent's Atoll]
-14:28:26 AM

In tradition, what the Queian tribe called 'the Island of Sweet Venom' was utilized in a crop-like fashion. In the segregated waters, midst coral shoals, cool ravines, idled reef-salmon. They preferred this atoll as a somewhat shielded ground for initiating spawning whenever the season took. Entry was garnered only through a narrow ditch-sloop, one meter deep by a meter in width, six meters long and grooved with silt-gravel. The lagoon itself sunk low to an approximate nineteen meters, following a gradual incline off the white-sand shores. Copses of mixed froum-trees and tuluum fruit-shrubs lined the waters out of sight. There was always a seeming cool wind coming down off further north. Queian told some years, the tide would lose its ingrained heat. Chunks of ice would drift in, soon to melt as they beached on the outer atoll reefs. This was one such year. Booted, dressed loosely in grey whaler-trousers and a jacketed work-shirt, Seroth knelt on a portion of a long sand-swell and listened to the wind.

The Kee of the Queian managed to trickle word up to his passing patrol cutter: something in Serpent's Atoll was responsible for taking six youths, four girls, two boys, from their tribe. Their grief was thick, too palpable in stark, crying disparity. He'd seen their small frames lined on the shore beneath blankets stitched from long-grass. The Kee was haggard, but kind in what details he could share. The youths had been found when worried fishers came canoeing by the lagoon. They'd departed some two days prior to collect venom caches from the nesting togga: sea snakes, but prone to placid hypnotism. Arresting on the sands, they ventured over land and found them. Bitten, dark skin purpled with yellowing swells, limbs showcasing fierce 'burns' alongside shattered bone. ...Then they noticed something fearsomely black, terrible in size, swimming by in the shallows.

Now, the Queian had petitioned some of the Silent Conclave to arrive and put pay to... whatever had made the Serpent's Atoll its lair. Seroth arrived by log-boat, paddling for half a day. Over his shoulder rested a tried, true vibro-sword, with axe and knife kept strapped faithfully at his hips. Salt played havoc with is dry-fire pistols. He stepped in through the sparse grasses, up over the tree-rise to come and look over the lagoon proper. It was a scene of coral perfection: later morning sunlight scattered colour off the in-grown reefs below. ...And sure-in enough, something quite weighty and sleek, long as a gunboat, was circling the warmer shallows. Seroth took a slow jaunt to the sands, keeping sharply tacked to the seductive, reptilian lurches swimming just below the water-top.

At his feet laid an old milq-knut. They grew three times as large as a human head from the froum-trees, with a heady lining of ebony 'flesh' that produced strawberry water. He knelt, picked it into his elbow and hefted it in a high toss. His aim would prove true. It flashed a dark lance of shade in his vision, before tumbling over into a vibrant wave-crest. ...Straight on to where the 'head' of this thing glided with sinister placidity. He picked up a faint knock of nut cracking against bone. The beast shivered, rose up from the waters as thick coils pressed into the sand-shallows, and turned around.

Seroth heard some of the Queian say it was 'Rawq'. They explained when he asked that 'Rawq' were a scaly, dangerous rarity that seldom made lagoons their stamping grounds. ...What precisely they resembled they hesitated to say. This example, rising with a flush of glistening droplets scouring its hide like diamonds, was a fifty foot 'youth'. Upon a thick throat-stalk rested a trio of hooded cobra-esque maws arraigned with four, jaundice yellowed eyes. Sunlight beat off its hide. Every movement shivered squeezes of too-small scales yoked close by an elastic skin. It reared high like a dark vision of daemonic totemic power; a remnant of Arda's wilder youth.

Seroth loosed free his vibro-blade, grasping his sheathe-knife in the opposite palm.

The Rawq hissed a sucking catch of wet breath, flexed its trio of unfolding glass-clear teeth, before hocking a globule of vicious, envenomed spit. The lad deflected, smacking the missile aside by the flat of his sword and ducking beneath the droplets that scattered over his head. The Rawq made no noise save the shift of its sinuous bulk: rattling, cracking. It swung back its lengthy throat and snapped down, all three mouths yawned wide to close around man-flesh. It collided into the sands. Seroth back-stepped, wove right, cutting as he moved. Vibro-sword met with hide in a vertical catch, slicing. Ripe, oxygenated blood woke like a geyser from the rending cut. In followed his knife, jerking close until the flesh folded around the hilt. Seroth ran, ripping along for a half-meter before the Rawq wriggled its bulk away.

Those three heads came on again, snapping off venom-spit in wide arcs across the shore. The lad kept on his intuitive backpedal, stepping aside whenever the Rawq pitted its snouts and turned up high gout's of crisp sand. Its speed was still ferociously titan. Up came its long tail. Seroth felt his hearing sting as it cracked at less than a half-inch above his brow, ducking aside when the hefting tail-bulk came slamming down. Up he came from his curt roll, taking the tail off in a half-pirouette strike. Now the Rawq made sound. Low, airless hisses sour with awful halitosis. The smell of digested fish meat. The scent of rotten blood still festering in its gorge. On it came once more, weaving in a terrible wriggle-pattern, needle-teeth glistening in noon-high suns.

Those triple maws coruscated light off the hang of their dark hoods. Murder gleamed past the sickened yellow in quad-grouped eyes. This time, it reasoned, this time it would have this flesh and would devour it morsel by morsel. Somewhere as the wind picked up behind came a low whistling moan. Seroth felt juvenile spirits watching with baited worry. The Rawq would not have him, nor anymore Queian. He waded in with a stroking counter. Sword and longknife flashed as the central head crashed down to slug him into the grassy sands. High-frequency edging met bone and meat, eviscerating in a clean line through throat, spine, and backbone. The Rawq fell back, dangling with a halved upper-body, gushing crude torrents of dirty blood across the earth. Crimson jetted awful portraits across white sands and idyl, azure water.

Seroth stepped in, blinking gore out of his vision. He still held in practiced grip his sheathe-blade. The Rawq at last died when the lad stepped in, gutted its bulk from savaged belly to decapitated tail-stump.

With such sudden blanketing, quiet again overtook the paradise for Serpent's Atoll. Scale-gulls wheeled overhead, giving a call of hungered excitement. Below, winging along, they watched the awful length of the slain Rawq-snake finally slither to a complete still. The lad knelt to murmur a local prayer of benediction; he thanked the sea for its iron-strength, the winds for their soulful-calm, the ground for its steadying demeanor. Such was the Sendan's custom following a successful hunt and the Queian would feel the better knowing the way was kept. ...Something rang incessantly off his belt-loop.

"Hmmn?" Seroth flicked on the blinking commlink.

"Hey guys!" The lad felt his lips turn up ripe in a broad smile. He knew the voice. "This is Jaxton. I'm sending you all a message I recently received from an Ambassador on Pydyr. She wants to find sanctuary for herself and her people, and I'm inclined to help. If any of you can come and help me negotiate and transport people I'd love all of your help, in getting as many bodies as we can out as fast as we can manage. I'll meet all of you there in four days time.

Jaxton out."

Seroth closed down the communicator, and looked over his shoulder. The split head of the Rawq stared him up from the grave. "...Be there in a minute."

 

[The Hound]

Jaxton's message did not go unheard. Though still without a proper vehichle to transport himself, he managed to persuade the captain of a Tempus Ardet to take him to the moon. During his trip he meditated alone in the cluttered cargo hold. He had never expected to see a FULL Tempus Ardet, but this was pretty damn close which was impressive. He knew that where they were going was the place where the White Current was taught, and he felt embarrassed at his current level of understanding, though when he meditated on it, and entered its flow, he felt relaxed, which was saying a lot for the young man with a broken heart.

As they neared the moon, he felt the touch of several minds whom were also immersed in the Current. It brought a new sort of joy to his heart. Wading through the flow, he passed the living ripples of the ship and expanded as far as he could. There were several people he recognized in the same area as himself, though he had never actually met many of them, their ripples in the Current were all familiar.

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

Jaxton was happy that he got a few responses, and figured there were likely more that had gotten his message, but not been able to answer. He thought he remembered Seroth saying something about helping out the people of Arda, and a few other of his friends were out on various other assignments. Hopefully they'd still manage to make.

So Jaxton packed up a ship with some food and medical supplies and headed over, true to his time, arriving a week after sending the message. He landed on the nearly empty moon and let out a simple signal "I'm here." Throughout the moon, letting allies, hopefully old and new, know where he was.

@[member="Roon Ganar"] @[member="Nohemi Allaneh"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Turin Val Kur"]

 

[Nohemi Allaneh]

​

​

Pydyr -- a seemingly barren moon of oceans and hills. It was the homeworld to the native Pydyrians, who's cities were mudbrick testaments to their culture; now only mere shells of their former selves, ruins due to the mass genocide by the Almanian Warlord and Dark Jedi Kueller, who used the Force to kill all but save one thousand Pydyrians. Their legacy and their fate unknown.

Not a trace of life seemingly appeared left. One would wonder if this was a new necropolis, a moon of the dead.

Or at least, that was the goal of the Order of the White Current.

Vast sustained illusions were created over the main city that held the remnants of the Order along with the descendents of the Pydyrians. Like the Temple of the Infinite Spirit they'd once protected centuries ago on J't'p'tan, so did the Fallanassi over the one mile stretch of occupied city carved into the cliffside of a seascape overlooking the ocean.

Powerful Fallanassi Apostates maintained the illusion, and only one of their own would be able to successfully identify the city. This is what had protected them thus far from the Sith Empire. However, with the former Grandmaster, Aleidis Ijet, a known practitioner of the White Current trained by Nohemi's former master, the ambassador knew that the current Jedi Order had at some point, trained a select amount of Jedi in the White Current.

She could not risk the haven at Pydyr to be discovered by the growing warmongering ways of the Republic and the blinded Jedi.

"I am told a ship landed," came the steady and austere voice of Niloo Van Dara Allaneh, be decked from head to toe in a white swath of vine-silk robes embroidered by silver thread. Her peppered hair, thick and straight, had been swept back into an elaborate crown, pinned into place. The only other measure of decoration lay across her neck, a single strand of pearls. While simple, it did not diffuse the aura of regality from the older woman.

Nohemi gave an incline of her head in greeting, "Yes, mother." she replied with a stillness, her black eyes gazing upon the valley to the east where the ship had docked.

"Scouts have been dispatched to intercept the ship." Nohemi added, turning slightly to face the austere angular face of her mother.

"Let us hope they are the answer to our concerns," came her mother's quiet contemplative concern.

"Master Ravos will come, mother." Nohemi replied with conviction, blinking once as her hands came to gracefully rest in front of her grey robe.

"We have no other choice."

~~~~~~} * { ~~~~~~​

​

A group of four Fallanassi apostates immersed within the White Current slowly made their way to the ship, undetectable by common mentalism. While few in number, it did not mean they were powerless. A singular Fallanassi apostate was able to create vast illusions that could fool even the strongest of mentalist. What they created became tangible, to create illusions to distract those that perceive them, often provoking fatal mistakes by those who did not realize the illusion was not real.

Hathar, a tall lithe like brunette apostate lead the scouting parting, drawing ever closer to the large ship that had landed earlier. Invisible to all, the green eyed female narrowed her eyes upon their objective. A hand rose to signal the halt in movement, unwilling to reveal themselves until they learned more on who their visitors were...

​

Spoiler

@Roon Ganar @Nohemi Allaneh @Seroth Ur-Rahn @Rosa Mazhar @Turin Val Kur @[member="Jaxton Ravos"]

​

 

[Roon Ganar]

@[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @Nohemi Allaneh @Seroth Ur-Rahn @Rosa Mazhar @Turin Val Kur
It wouldn't take long for another ship to arrive.

​Jaxton could soon see a shuttle closing in on his location, civilian one from the looks of it, scrappy unmarked one, wielding simplest weaponry. It would land nearby his own ship and the door to it would open.
He could see Roon walking few steps down the ramp before he turned and waved to the people inside
"Bye, thank you for the lift! May the Force be with you!"
He fare them well in his sultry husky Kel Dor voice before he turned back to Jaxton, hiding his hands in the large sleeves of his robes, he nodded to the Zeltronian
"Hello, Jaxton, are others on their way?"

 

[Ashin Varanin]

A miniature Ithorian herd ship exited hyperspace over Almania and moved toward Pydyr. Only four hundred metres across, its greenery-bedecked hull could still house eleven hundred guests in a degree of communal comfort. At the overgrown helm stood Boolon Murr, Priest of the Mother Jungle.

The stately vessel began to descend through atmosphere, toward the ship which Jaxton had landed.

"Master Ravos, this is Boolon. The End of the Tempest stands ready. We have food and passenger capacity for just over one thousand sentients."

 

[Seydon of Arda]

Outer Rim ~ (Mortex Sector) ~ [Almanian System]
1st Moon of Almania

He'd brokered a single bulk freighter and a skeleton crew of some awfully weary Mon Calamari. Ideally, the lad held preference for smaller craft requiring single sets of hands. Expectation demanded, however, that his ordinarily comfortable spheres of independence wax with command experience. Seroth was mystified. Jaxton made his natural style of smooth command look easy to emulate. It was not. There laid a salutatory lesson: being astride authority was akin to riding a mynock between your heels. Wildly difficult with unpredictable patterns, where you felt a constant upset of balance. So far the Mon Cal deferred to his decisions and he relegated to simple, soft-spoken directions.

Silk Holdings lent him on credit, with writ from Jorus Merrill himself, a single Tempus-Ardet Bulk Freighter. It was a self-described durasteel box perforated here and there with transparisteel portholes. The vessel flew on hard industrial lines, bloated nacelle engines attached as thickened, stubbed pectoral 'guide-fins'. Stretches of hulling laid thick with unwashed mechanical discharges. It looked akin to an ungainly, flying GONK. Yet, its cargo holds were generous with space. Cross-referenced against similar load-bearing vessels drew out its singular ability. Twenty load-bearing droids spent two days, all hours, helping to shuffle hundreds if not thousands of hab-tent constructs, beds, indoor sanitation stations, foodstuff dispensers, anything that would give a thousand-plus bodies enough comfort.

The Navicomp described Pydyr as hill swept, spread widely with cresting oceans chained to Almania's steady grav-well. From orbit, it appeared comely: streaked with barred clouds, blue, gently greyed by small continental islands, peaceful. Seroth jotted notes to perhaps take time for a personal hike or cutter-voyage over Pydyr. Time allowing. The Tempus Ardet 'Broken Step' waded down through a slow atmospheric ride, bucking entry-burn. It waddled with ungainly adjustment across a high cumulonimbus breathtakingly tanked with a waiting rainstorm. All assembled on the bridge decking peered deep into long tracts of unbroken sea past and below. Gull-white crescents lapped in hypnotic whorls.

"Do you like water?" Asked one crewing Mon Cal.

Seroth considered. Foggy silence compounded with sheer weightlessness. Both cold and warm, presenting pressure from each angle, direction. In time, he nodded, smiling a little. "I do."

They followed down Jaxton's freighter transceiver, to a spot of umber-grass fields fenced in by tall, sparing pines. Half a click north and west dropped to sheer, ebony and iron cliff-faces. The downdraft blasts of the Broken Step's landing jets briefly out roared the distant groans of lapping waves. Seroth was swift to unfasten his captain's seat harnesses, cuing the communications officer to spin up a channel towards Jaxton's lander.

"Mister Ravos," Came his low baritone. "I've a bulk mover at ready to accept whatever bodies we can fit. To the hilt, we can maybe usher in a thousand. Perhaps more, though not at comfort. ...Have we made contact?"

@[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @[member="Boolon Murr"] @[member="Roon Ganar"] @[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Turin Val Kur"] @[member="Nohemi Allaneh"]

 

[Rosa Gunn]

The Golden Rose sank into the atmosphere, sunlight glittering off the hull. She did not bring a ship large enough to carry passengers simply because she knew her fellow conclave members well enough to know that would be their first port of call. she set it down neatly next to Jaxton's and began running the standby sequences before disembarking. She paused at the foot of the ramp and glanced back at it a slight frown on her face. Maybe Seroth was right, maybe she did need to get the ship dirty? She smirked, not if she could help it. She smiled in greeting to Jaxton, before giving him a brief hug. "When we're done saving the galaxy, we really should catch up properly Jaxton. Every time I see you it seems we are to busy with everyone else." She turned smiling eyes on @[member="Roon Ganar"].

"Padawan Ganar, I presume? I'm Rosa Mazhar." The comm link in her ear came to life and Roon's response was lost on Rosa as she turned her senses and eyes to the sky above, reaching first to Boolon in greeting, then to her fiancée. "Negative, Master Ur-Rahn." she replied in Jaxton's stead "No sign of our cargo yet. How was Arda?" she asked mischevious grin appearing on her face. "Messy and noisy?" There was never a right time to catch up but as they were at the mercy of the White Currents, there was little to do besides wait for them to come forward. Rosa imagined they were in plain sight, observing there would be rescuers. Its what Rosa would do in their shoes, make sure what they asked for was what they were getting.

@Jaxton Ravos @Boolon Murr @Roon Ganar @Seroth Ur-Rahn @Turin Val Kur @Nohemi Allaneh

 

[The Hound]

Exiting the bulk freighter he had arrived on he was met with several new faces, though he knew all of them were with the Sanctum despite never seeing most of them before. Making his way over to them, the spacer waved. He did not know what lay ahead for them, but he knew no matter what happened, he would be helping people in need, rather than taking lives.

A nice change of pace for the young Force user.

 

[Nohemi Allaneh]

To Hathar's keen gaze, their conversation did not mark them as aggressors. More so, once she heard the commentary about making contact and the name 'Jaxton', it became clear that these were the guests Niloo and Nohemi were expecting.

So it was with the subtlest of hand movements that Hathar motioned for the other three scouts to reveal themselves. It was a seamless transition, as all four Fallanassi apostates' lithe forms surfaced from their immersion. Ajuna, an auburn haired scout known for abilities with doppelganger, appeared to Seroth's right, while Marat and Juna, twin sisters with an affinity in master immersion stood by Turin Val Kur and the Kel Door, Roon Ganar.

Master Jaxton Ravos would find himself facing the statuesque Hathar, her placid gaze observing the zeltron that had been called 'Jaxton' by the Kel-Dor.

"Are you Master Jaxton Ravos?" she asked to confirm, her green eyes quietly went skimming across the visitors before returning to Jaxton.

Spoiler

@Roon Ganar @Nohemi Allaneh @Seroth Ur-Rahn @Rosa Mazhar @Turin Val Kur @Jaxton Ravos

 

[Jaxton Ravos]

"They'll be here soon Roon. They're good people, like yourself. Hope you like 'em." He said to the young Kel Dor, before they were shortly joined an Ithorian priest of no small renown and the galaxy's most under-appreciated monster-hunter. Both came in stating passenger counts, a grand each. Jaxton's shuttle was just short of half that, though he wagered they'd be a bit more comfortable.

"Boolon, Seroth. Thanks for coming." He said with a hearty expression, before like a gazelle he was pounced on from his blindspot, with a hug from Rosa Mazhar. He returned a friendly squeeze in kind. He nodded as she said they needed to sit down at catch up sometime. It would be nice to have a good time to just reminisce with friends, and not have to worry about dealing with fighting off brigands or dealing with evacuating nations.

"I'd like that." He replied warmly, before spotting a familiar Warden on the horizon walking out of another bulk frieghter. He waved the man over, and then headed into his ship and came out less than a minute later with a huge bag of protato chips. If he remembered correctly Rosa enjoyed normal potatos more, but Jax needed his protein. Besides, it'd put some hair on her chest. He came back to the group and opened the bag with a gentle rip, the scent of deep-fried goodness permeating the air before one of the white current women appeared out of nowhere. Jaxton didn't blink. It was a shame the powers of the Force didn't surprise him like it used to. She asked his name and Jaxton nodded.

"Yeah, that's me. You want some chips? I got some dip in the ship, but I figured we'd be on the move." He said as a large hand entered the bag and grabbed a few before putting them in his mouth, an audible crunch escaping before he closed his mouth and continued chewing.

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Turin Val Kur"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Nohemi Allaneh"] @[member="Boolon Murr"] @[member="Roon Ganar"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

With the Ithorian herd ship hovering safely overhead, Boolon joined the Sanctum's defenders in fellowship and chips. He brushed crumbs from assorted places on his snail-like topbody and inclined his head toward the Fallanassi.

"I am Boolon Murr, Priest of the Mother Jungle. How may I help you, apart from the chips?"

 

[Seydon of Arda]

The sudden burst of presence to his flank was certainly startling. He'd not felt the wind stir, nor the grass beneath shuffle under displaced weight. There was a distinct but discrete lack of telling scent, and most definitely, Seroth had not heard 'Ajuna' approach close. It was the Fallanassi mystique: comprehensive illusion control that foiled his attention. With their reveal, easterly winds drifted slowly in idle across the landing field. It was mild, gently temperate, lending another mote of disarming charm to the scene.

Seroth simply shrugged and afforded Ajuna, Hathar, the sisters, a respectful bow. Then he paced in beside Jaxton and Rosa, taking up a crisp chip to munch. "Forgive us any nonchalance. We have every respect. Yet we trust it's more relieving to see folks as us idling with a bite rather than posturing for appearances sake. ...That and we're nippy for a snack."

Crunch~!

 

[Rosa Gunn]

Rosa gave the men a look of despair and shook her head slowly, stepping forward she offered a smile. "I'm Rosa Mazhar, this is @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"]," she motioned towards her fiancée who had failed to introduce himself and then to the others "@[member="Turin Val Kur"] and @[member="Roon Ganar"]. I'm sorry we have to meet under such circumstances." she said solemnly.

Rosa couldn't help it, it was in her nature to play diplomat and to feel embarrassed for the way her friends presented themselves. She chose not to look at them again. First impressions were important.

@[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @[member="Nohemi Allaneh"] @[member="Boolon Murr"]

 

[Roon Ganar]

@[member="Rosa Mazhar"] @[member="Seroth Ur-Rahn"] @[member="Boolon Murr"] @[member="Jaxton Ravos"] @[member="Nohemi Allaneh"] @[member="Turin Val Kur"]
The Kel-Dor watched others have a chip snack. He was thinking about telling them to stop and be serious, but then he thought that maybe just his time with the Jedi placed a staff-saber up his butt and made him uptight. He shrugged it off.
Either way, he couldn't join them in eating chips, he couldn't take off his mask, after all, since that would mean death to him. The bastards! Taunting him by waving snacks and talking about dip around when it was so close to him yet so far!

Either way,
At the sudden appearance Roon reached to his saber slightly, it was more of a startled reflex rather than opening stance of attack, after all, they just appeared out of nowhere. Seeing that nobody else freaked out and they were not really hostile, Roon calmed himself, letting his hands fold at his waist and he gave a nod to the Fallanassi when Rosa introduced him
"Greetings, madams."
He droned in that sexy-sexy deep Kel Dor voice, like Morgan Freeman trapped behind an electronic mask.

He awaited for others to speak with the Fallanassi, after all, he was still relatively young and inexperienced, he witnessed few diplomatic meetings, and few battles. His training began just recently with Jaxton showing him capabilities of electromagnetic manipulation.
However, he was stunned at the abilities of these women. He didn't sensed them at all, they were not a presence in the Force until they lifted their veil, he did not hear them, nor smelled them, completely undetectable until they wished to be seen. Roon marveled at that and despaired at the same time, it was a powerful ability and he assumed they were not the only ones who knew of it, he hoped that it didn't fall into wrong hands.

 

[Nohemi Allaneh]

Hathar was not one to be so easily amused, leave it to her training and her role as a head scout for the protection of the Order. She made an effort, nonetheless, with a cordial smile and an incline of her head to the visitors.

"I thank you, but time is of the essence," she said, as the other three scouts also gave an incline of their heads in greeting. Raising her head, Hathar, turned to each sentient who spoke to her.

To Jaxton, she introduced herself, "I am Hathar, in charge of the security for our Order," she explained, and with a small motion of her hand introduced the other scouts along with her.

"This is Marat, Ajuna, and Juna." she told the group.

CRUNCH.

The sound permeated the air, and all eyes would likely turn to the younger of the twins, Juna, who had accepted the offered chips and had just bitten into it. Her eyes grew wide, and her sister's elbow soon found it's way against her ribcage.

A faint narrowing of disapproval grew in Hathar's eyes, and Juna quickly apologized, her cheeks bright pink.

With a deep breath, Hathor's gaze swept over to the Ithorian and Rosa in kind, "I thank you for the questions, but such matters should be discussed with the leader of our Order." she replied.

"I can guide you." she offered, making a faint motion for the other scouts to join her.

Although Merat was strangely fascinated by @[member="Boolon Murr"] 's very existence. Apparently, this was the first time she'd seen any other sentient other than near-humans.

Spoiler

@Rosa Mazhar @Seroth Ur-Rahn @Boolon Murr @Jaxton Ravos @Nohemi Allaneh @Turin Val Kur @[member="Roon Ganar"]