Proceed with caution

[Loske Treicolt]

"He's very forgiving." She responded through gritted teeth, not sure why she felt the need to defend.

Loske didn't like the insinuations of the for now about the balance of her friend's life. If they'd known this thing was still alive, [member="Cedric Grayson"] probably would have brandished the Blade of Ruusan and struck this lord down. Still poised to protect, Loske crouched and listened to the explanation and request that came from the former Emperor. Having someone so powerful indebted to oneself was wrought with potential. Her mind chose not to wander in that direction. To get here, the tomb had been laden with traps. Misgivings and deception. Making a deal with the devil was not on today's agenda.

She looked back down at Cedric, who was still eerily unconscious and vulnerable. More vulnerable than the Sith Lord claimed to be in the midst of the Jedi Master, who had, in a single breath, been rendered lifeless. He'd told her not to open herself up to The Force down here, but with the situation at hand she may have to. At least try. That protective crouch shifted slightly, the minutiae movement imbuing her muscles with a different balance. One more proportioned to strike.

Shaking her head, she confirmed she didn't like the idea of being a lackey. Someone who lifted the cuffs of an imprisoned Lord for the sake of a transaction. "You're responsible for Coruscaunt's rot down here. How are you doing that and how do you know so much about us? You're so...far removed."

 

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The creature stared at Loske in silence, the burning coals it had for eyes unblinking as it appraised her.

"Forgiving, or manipulative?" There was a dripping amusement to his words. The abomination understood its path to freedom, and he would have to choose his words carefully. "You believe another being could forgive you for the death of their parent? As if it is simply gone? Poor girl, you do not understand humanity at its core." Long black tresses cascaded down the abomination's face as he leaned forward, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead from the effort.

"You are useful to him." Unparalleled confidence backed the abomination's words. "A tool. A powerful force sensitive to be molded in his own image. He would make you into a Jedi, another dogmatic slave of a fallen order. He would ask you to give your life away to a galaxy that will never care for you, and will eventually come to forget you. You would be his weapon," the creature paused, a flash of psychopathic joy passing through his eyes before he spoke again. "Or perhaps you've groomed for an even more demeaning purpose. No doubt that Grayson charisma brought you to his side. What greater revenge upon your mother could there be than using her child as a consort?"

Loske's questions were met only with silence. The abomination had no reason to answer her questions. Not now.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Crown knocker​

​

Dripping with maliciousness, the storyteller's narrative were laced with deception and persuasion. Seeping into the psyche of the listener with a deadly taint that would spread and stain the hue of perspective. No more rose coloured glasses. It was vivid, intoxicating, and wholly consuming.

​

The intentions of the creature were transparent now. It had chosen to not engage her curiosities and his focus was myopically self serving.

There would be no indulgence or explanation for the little Jedi wannabe.

Everything he boasted was laced with fraudulence. For all that he knew of Cedric and Loske, and their respective parents, he didn't know about them. The picture he was painting was one that could easily be grasped at, and perhaps there was some merit to select syllables, but as a whole, it was so obvious now because it was conglomeratively so wrong. Mentally pushing away the engaging grip he'd had at one point, Loske replaced that apprehensive fear with pleasure and revelling in the truth he was revealing. Hearing him speak gave her context, and fuelled her absolution in what to do. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Cedric was beyond the point of blaming Loske's lineage for a choice his father had made at his sole discretion. One could influence another's path, but ultimately, the choices were their own. Kiskla had chosen to make Cyril responsible for retrieving that which he lost, Cyril chose to make the most of that burden. There is no emotion, there is peace.

As he continued, the blonde mentally countered the explanations levied toward her. [member="Cedric Grayson"] and Loske had been forthright in their interactions, especially as it related to the expectations of the Jedi. She closed her eyes recalled those interactions while the dark maestro continued to conduct his malicious tune.

"Yes, you have to be exactly like me. Any deviance will not be tolerated," Cedric remarked with no small amount of sarcasm. His thoughts on the politics of things left him, replaced with a certainty that Loske would be his first padawan in five years.

"No one said you had to," Cedric offered her an easy smile. Most might have seen him as something of a hardliner, but there was a heart beneath that cold exterior. Loske had a wandering spirit - Cedric had recognized that much when he'd first set eyes upon her at the race tracks, and their time together had only strengthened his initial assumptions. Were it most other apprentices, the Jedi would have not trusted them to go off on their own.

"I trust you. I know you won't aid anyone that would seek to impede our endeavors," the smile grew, "Besides, a Jedi's purpose is to serve. I'd be a hypocrite if I denied you that."

A chuckle emitted at the jab at her pride, cocking her head with a small shake. Nail in the coffin. Thank goodness these two talked so much!

Cedric's eyes narrowed for the moment, regarding Loske, before he spoke, "I'm pretty angular myself, some call me a square," he cracked a thin smile, snickering at his own words. "No Loske, I'm afraid there's far more you'll have to accomplish before I let you have my kids. I'm not a commoner after all," He added coolly, his words so neutral only the deftest could pick up the playful sarcasm beneath.

A tingle in her fingertips, Loske focused on the compliments from the Sith Lord. A powerful Force User. That was her. The Force wanted to be her ally. She inhaled, and opened her eyes on the exhale. Jaw locked in a firm resolve, Loske rose to stand, glaring upward at the face that stretched out toward her. He was unarmed, chained to his prison. A Jedi shouldn't strike down an unarmed opponent.

He had a kyber crystal in his kriffing forehead. That was the engine for the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. That was enough for Loske to mentally checkmark that box before taking any action. And, to boot, twelve Jedi's life forces supporting him.

This conversation was not going anywhere -- there was no dialogue. Only pointed monologue.

​

"I said what I said... Forgiving." Were the girl's final words. Her palm tingled with life, and she focused on the purest form of The Force in the room. It rested, tucked away in Cedric's cloak. He'd secured it more dutifully before they descended below Coruscaunt's crust, but something within it (she supposed) shared the necessity of the moment with the girl that willed it to snap to her palm on desperate command. The rest of her movements were muscle memory from another.

The ornately engraved hilt snapped to her palm, and like a cat she zig-zagged from her position, leveraging some of the rises in the stone to support her upward path. Mid-scale, her thumb activated the blade. Both hands clenched the hilt, striking horizontally with the intent to cleave the head from the shoulders. Freeing the crystal, and...ultimately...ending the conversation.

The sharp scent of ozone would be the last thing the Sith Lord smelled. The brilliance of cerulean would be the last thing he saw. His own fleshy, bloody mortality..the last thing he would taste. The air being sharply cut by the snap-hiss of the lightside embodied weapon, the last thing he would hear. The last thing he touched would be no different than the stone he'd been gripping for the past decade. His last thoughts? Those were his own to decide. Everything else was decisively delivered by The Blade of Ruusan's fell swoop across his neck.

 

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Surprise was an emotion the abomination had only felt a handful of times in its many lives. Raised from birth to become Sith, the abomination had been the very definition of a prodegy. His conquests were met with little trouble, his problems resolved with a simple expression of his will. the galaxy had been his to command, and for a time, he had thought himself akin to a living god. Escaping death's reach several times had only strengthened that belief, and he had truly come to see himself as invulnerable.

This this little whelp would not respect his power was simply not a possibility he considered. His power eclipsed that of all he knew off, and the teachings he could impart would promise his students a place at his side for eternity. Faith in him was the path to immortality - what fool would deny it?

His mouth hung open in surprise as the Blade of Ruusan came to life. The overwhelming presence of the Ashla seared at his flesh, his very spirit recoiling in agony from its presence. In his final seconds, the abomination that had once been the Dark Lord of the Sith could only scream in denial at his situation. The Ashla's effect on him was so powerful that he did not even register the lightsaber itself, not until his head flew from his shoulders, and he had a fraction of a second of conciousness to understand that he was dead, and without another host, this was truly the end.

Whatever the abomination experienced after that was known only to him. The head rolled slightly, the kyber crystal popping from its skull as it had a will of its own. The crimson hues began to fade, and a golden yellow glow started to emanate from the weapon's core. It spread outward, rapidly taking over the entirety of the crystal's surface. With its shift, the power of the ziggurat seemed to fade as well, the crimson lines darkening to nothing, and its presence within the empyrean wavering. The entombed Jedi around them all slackened, their spirits leaving their bodies as the shackles that held them here dissipated.

There was an audible sigh as Cedric's eyes fluttered open. "Kark," he coughed, leaning up into a sitting position. He drew in a deep breath, eyes darting about as he took in the scene.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Landing on the opposite side of the throne, Loske had only seconds to right herself before the head rolled past her feet like a morbid bowling ball. With the crystal freed of it’s cursed lodging, a chain of events unfolded.

Perhaps the most unnerving was the sound of twelve bodies collapsing to the stones in unison. She’d wondered what would have happened to them. If they’d finally be allowed to die, or if The Force would somehow restore them to their former glory. The fairy tail version did not come to fruition. These Jedi deserved a proper burial for their predated service. And sacrifice.

The other thing she’d wondered about, more importantly, is what would happen to [member="Cedric Grayson"]. His life had been suspended by the Sith Lord, and with his demise it could have brought Cedric along with him, or kept him in a Demi limbo. Gratefully, neither of those options happened and The Jedi Master sat upright. Remorsefully, the blade disengaged at the touch of a button.

She breathed a sigh of relief, and true to character, quickly picked up her steps back to her friend and dropped to his level. Thankful, her arms looped around his torso with an effort full squeeze before recoiling and offering an assist to get him to stand back up. “Are you okay? That was... really scary.”

 

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Realization came slowly to Cedric.

He glanced all around the room as his disorientation began to fade. He noticed the fading presence of the Bogan. It was still there, but its power had been greatly diminished. The second thing he took note of was the headless body hanging loosely off the throne. Smoke still poured from the spot where the head had been severed from the neck, and filled the room with a particularly meaty scent that made Cedric's nose curl in distaste. He glanced all around, noting that all life had left the broken bodies.

His gaze just barely returned to Loske before he found himself embraced by her. Caught off guard, he briefly returned the gesture before she pulled back. He took her hand, rising clumsily up to his feet. "A little woozy, but I'm alright. Some kind of Malacia I've never seen before," he mumbled, his senses finally returning to him fully as he settled his gaze on Loske. "You stopped him," he breathed, finally coming to understand what had gone on while he was unconscious.

"Thank you," and he meant it. "Think you saved my life."

He paused for a moment, gaze flickering between Loske and the abomination's corpse. "What happened? Did he say anything to you?"

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Malacia. Another name for a power she did not know. Like Flow Walking. There were names for everything — which made sense if you had to identify it and then pass it down through teachings. Titles for reference made instruction easier, she mused.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a permanent set back. Some sort of stasis staying trick or something.

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” She confirmed his speculation. “I did. And you were almost regretting bringing me. I could feel it.” A proud smile splattered on her face as she balanced the hilt of the weapon used to destroy the Sith in her palm extended toward its rightful owner to take it. “I’ve really got to get one of these for myself. We’d be in a different situation right now if you didn’t have this on you.” A Jedi and their weapon were extensions of each other — in that defining moment, she’d felt pretty Jedi. She’d never felt so sure of what to do on the ground. In the cockpit, sure. In her new life? This was the first.

She could maybe flow walk the former events, but Cedric didn’t need to know everything. “He knocked you out,” she snapped her fingers to replicate the instantaneousness of that portion “Knew of our parents, and their history, and supposed how it impacted our dynamic. Asked to be freed, offered to be in debt to the one that released him,” at this point, she gestured to herself “—And basically went on to claim that you’re manipulating me for your own intents and purposes — your political advancement in an unforgiving galaxy — which is kind of ironic given the speaker. His narrative was a little self reflective. Then I... borrowed your sword and...” she gestured again at the smoking, headless corpse.

“You woke up.”

She paused. That was a pretty hefty summary. This had been....quite a day.

It was very somber in this room, with thirteen dead bodies.

“Oh, and he suggested you were grooming me for marriage for ultimate revenge on my mother.”

 

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"I'll admit I was. Seems I was worried about the wrong person here," he admitted, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as he eyed the bodies. There was no telling how long they had been here, but Cedric suspected was at least as long as the dawn of the One Sith empire. Likely much longer than that.

"I think after this display you're ready for a lightsaber. I noticed that crystal popped out of his skull. Perhaps the empyrean wanted us here so that you could purify it," his brow furrowed. "And to deal with this old wretch. I'm glad you were here."

He paused, listening as she explained the Dark Lord's intent. It sounded about right given what Cedric knew of him. The old lord was a pompous creature, and he'd likely seen Loske as the means by which he could return to the greater galaxy. Cedric couldn't be more grateful that the threat their progenitors had faced was finally silenced forever. "Sounds like the standard Sith take on things. Always looking to manipulate, never a shred of honesty to their words. You've certainly proven yourself here. I don't know any other padawans that can claim they killed one of the galaxy's greatest Sith Lords."

The chamber was unpleasant, but Cedric was elated. In the brief moments of consciousness he'd had before the Malacia kicked in, he'd been certain they were both going to die. He'd not had enough faith in Loske. That was going to change.

Then came the last bit.

"You didn't know that already?" He deadpanned. "I thought that was obvious from the start here Loske."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Purify a crystal? If she looked puzzled, it’s because she was.

“I don’t know if I’m going to boast about it..” she shrugged “He was chained to the chair. Bit of an advantage for me.”

She smiled when [member="Cedric Grayson"] joined her in balancing the emotions with some light banter. She mock tapped her forehead, with an eye roll. “Ah, right. Totally forgot. Your romance is blindingly overwhelming. While we’re planning the wedding, maybe we can plan twelve funerals too.” Distancing herself, she crouched next to the glowing golden crystal, poising it between her pointer and thumb. There was little light to catch here, but it still managed to glint.

The temple had decided this was enough time. With the destruction of the Bogan-based crystal, the ground once again began to shiver beneath their feet. Bracing herself, Loske glances around fervently while the walls began to evidence rubble. Above them, the ceiling began to recede and the floor they were standing on began to rise like a massive elevator. This.. kind of made sense since the doorway back out had fallen away when they entered.

 

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"Still counts," he quipped over his shoulder as reached out with the empyrean. One by one, he moved the bodies from their rather disrespectful positions into a small row on one side of the floor. He would have lifted them himself, but he was uncertain what sort of taint the bodies might have had.

"You did say I was the galaxy's most eligible bachelor," perhaps he was getting far too comfortable acting relatively normal around the dead. It was a skill (if one could call it that) he'd developed over several decades on the battlefield. Still, he sometimes caught himself and wondered at the behavior. "Although I do think the funerals might put a slight damper on things."

The stale air gave way to slightly less stale air as the platform broke out above the roof of the ziggurat. A series of steps were extended from one side of the platform, extending all the way to the ground below. Cedric wasted little time in keying on his datapad, listing his current location and marking the requirement for a transport suited for the dead.

"A patrol is on its way to retrieve them. We'll see them properly cremated." He clipped his lightsaber to his belt, and was both surprised and pleased to see that Loske's speeder was untouched. The creatures that had stalked them when they'd arrived had all fled, likely due to the death of the Dark Lord.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

"Never have I ever been to a Jedi funeral before." Loske mused aloud, reaching back to the game from earlier. Funerals for pilots were routine, there was a certain percentage just expected to die as soon as they took to the skies.

There was a sort of poetic justice to this. From the Sith Lord's perspective, this story had started with Kiskla Grayson sending Cyril Grayson to the Sith Lord's clutches. Loske had finished it the story off with the blade of [member="Cedric Grayson"]. She considered this while the Jedi Master orchestrated the alignment of the corpses, purposely keeping her gaze low and focusing on the conversation, less so the machinations. It was a little perturbing.

"What's purifying a crystal? How do we do that?"

Walking down the steps, she grasped the crystal tightly and shoved her hand into her pocket.

When they finally reached the ground, she slid into the drivers seat and with some exasperate finality, rested her head back with a heavy sigh. "Man. This has been a day."

 

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“They’re similar to normal funerals. Most Jedi are cremated as our connection to the Force allows our spirits to transcend beyond our bodies. Once dead, we have no use for them anymore.” He explained as they made their way down the stairs. Of all the things that had happened to them today, for one reason or another trudging down the stairs was the most tiring.

“Lightsaber crystals, particularly my EE crystals, are as sensitive to the Force as we are. They’re almost like...” he struggled to find the right analogous. “Like air fresheners. This crystal was full of hatred, and thus was steeped into the Bogan, and gave off that red hue. I suspect when you cut the abomination down with the Blade of Ruusan an it cast out those shadows, and replaced them with whatever you felt in the act. That is purifying a crystal - emptying it of the Bogan, and restoring it to the Light.”

The explanation was more tiring that he might have admitted. He eagerly drop into his seat, stretching out his limbs and relighting not having to stand any longer.

“It has,” he agreed, looking to her. “A productive one though. I’d say your training for the day is over,” He snickered, “What’s next on the agenda for Sith slayer [member="Loske Matson"]?”

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She closed her eyes while he spoke, before glancing at the chrono of the speeder as she started the ignition. They'd been up straight for like, two planetary rotations. If she'd been tired before, she was exhausted now.

Sith Slayer had a nice ring to it, and it perked her ears. The reality of her next adventure was much more mundane, however. "A very, very long drive back to the palace." The repulsers of the speeder roared and she shifted the gears to drive. "I wonder if we'll notice any change in the streets with that Sith Lord gone, and how embedded his influence was."

"What about you, [member="Cedric Grayson"]? Oh wait," she chuckled and reversed the vehicle before pulling away from the leering temple. Should they have destroyed it? "You have an appointment with Mister Pickles."

 

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"Very long indeed," Cedric sighed as the adrenaline of the night finally began to recede. He hadn't noticed just how tired he was back in the ziggurat. Once their mission had been accomplished, there was no reason for that heightened awareness to remain.

All he wanted now was a nap.

"I doubt we'll notice anything immediately. He was there for a very long time, and his presence left scars in the empyrean. It might take years for them heal fully, but it will get better." He explained as he hung his arm out the window. The winds crashing against it served to better wake him up.

"Mister Pickles," another sigh, "Well, I sent a message that he should meet me the day after today, actually. Mister Pickles will have to be patient," he paused, a thought forming. "Never have I ever spent a night in a dingy underworld hotel."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

A hotel would make the drive significantly less long. Or, at least feel less long by breaking it up. If someone were to come in and do some real math, they'd chide her thought process and point out that it extended the trip. Nevertheless, hanging out in the underbelly of Coruscaunt, continuing to pump their systems full of faux oxygen would give them the chance to learn more about the planet the Imperium had recently acquired.

"Then we must follow the rules of the game." Loske indicated, with a tilt of her ponytail. "Are we just going to eyeball the least dingy one, or is there some sort of review system on the holonet we should follow?

..

You feelin' lucky, punk?"

 

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"It's not authentic if we don't eyeball it. Gotta go with your gut, not reviews." He'd not spent much time in any rundown inns. Even during the more costly Essonian campaigns, he'd always found his place on the military installations. Hadn't been much time to go sight seeing in such players after the Sith Empire rose.

A hand was pressed to his chin as he stared off in thought. "Somewhere a good few floors up though. Not sure these lowest levels even have hotels," he pointed out, his eyes narrowing as he cracked a smile. "Loske, at this point you should understand that I'm always feeling lucky. Force and all that."

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

She hmmm'd in response. Much akin to [member="Cedric Grayson"], Loske hadn't spent any time in a hotel. She had an apartment on Sullust back in the day, before it was invaded, and since then she mostly spent her time in S.S Bruno, or privy to the hospitality various hosts imparted after her bleeding heart completed some task for a desperate soul. So, this was bound to be an interesting adventure. By the time it was all over, she was sure to enter snoresville.

Dutifully, she turned up the radio, giving the option to not talk if they wanted to conserve their energy.

**

After a few hours of perusing through the under cities, and tracing back the route she'd come down, they finally broke out of the hundreds, and into the thousands. At one-thousand-two-hundred-and-four, she'd lost count of the signs as they transferred from one level to another. Each level had that same eery green colour, as if there were a filter over all the atmospheric lighting. Further up, there would be levels that replicated the planets the first refugees came from. There had been an Alderaan level, a Chandrila level, etcetera. Those were all up in the two thousands, she remembered that from the drive down. But, unfortunately, their fuel was not going to take them that far.

She reduced her speed so they could speak over the sound of the whipping wind, since there was little protection from the non-existant windshield.

"Okay, we gotta stop here, if not for the night, another fuel stop."

 

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Cedric had spent the majority of the flight back meditating. It was always interesting to be immersed in the Force when passing so much varied life. He could feel the traces of a million psyches flying by, each with its own motivations and story. They projected a great deal of energy out into the empyrean, and Cedric fed upon it, allowing it to rejuvenate his limbs and, at the very least, keep him from falling asleep in the passenger seat.

His eyes finally opened when Loske slowed the speeder. He gave her a curious look, then looked all around. This was definitely classified as underworld, though it was not as bad as the territory they had been shot at in earlier. No complaints.

"Fine by me," he gestured toward one of several dozen structures set upon outstretched platforms. They had landing pads for more than a few ships, and were emblazoned with neon signs displaying various names. The closest was a drab brown structure covered in neon scriptures of every color. The brightest of them read 'Kivvie's Bed 'n Breakfast'.

"Set her down. Maybe Kivvie's got some good deals." Cedric snickered, gesturing toward the structure.

[member="Loske Matson"]

 

[Loske Treicolt]

Sorry, what? The Lord Heir, Son of Ession was keen on saving a few bucks at a shanty inn?

"You don't strike me as a deals type." She murmured, and angled the ship from the primary crossway to settle into one of the empty spots. There were...several empty spots. Not the best of signs, but, to Cedric's earlier point, this wasn't necessarily a vacationing location. Most of the streets were lined with Apartments. The Coruscaunt underworld was a place of permanence for the most part, at least down in the lower levels. Where stars and the sky were urban myths. By this level, she could assume a few bars or casinos were frequented by some of the previous government tenants to spend some hard earned coin.

Putting the vehicle in park, she leveraged herself out (still too cool to use the door properly) and walked toward the door. She slowed to absorb the sight of brilliant colour, marvelling at the juxtaposition of ignorance on these signs, and the slaughter house they'd just come from. This was why [member="Cedric Grayson"] had been so appreciative of the mundane coffee run earlier. Looking at the two of them, they just looked like tired travellers. One far more cloaked up than the other, but the first reaction would not be to categorize them as just having slain a Sith that was emanating a powerful dark side nexus throughout the core of Coruscaunt. There was a dirty window beneath some of the signage, and Loske caught sight of her reflection. Physically, she was unchanged. But it was strange to see herself, slightly discoloured from the dirt, after defeating an ancient enemy. That had been her doing. His undoing was by her hands.

The same hands that pushed open the doors to Kivvie's.

"Hello," she greeted. "Are you Kivvie?"

Behind the desk, a bored looking Gran blinked....several times...all at different intervals, which was strange to see.

"No. I'm Breab."

"Oh. Okay.."

"Kivvie's dead." The Gran continued, unprompted. It did not prompt anything else, and Loske found this individual in the hospitality industry to be rather...unhospitable. Or at least, pretty unhelpful so far. There were a few seconds of silence as the two looked at each other, and she wondered if she should give her name in turn, or apologize for Kivvie's departure. "You want a room?" He finally asked.

"I dunno, you got any deals?" That one was a cue for a cheesy grin at the Jedi Master.

Then came that weird blinking thing again, across all three eyeballs. "No. Kivvie hated deals."

"What did Kivvie like?"

"Full priced rooms."

Sagely, Loske nodded in comprehension. Kivvie sounded like a woman....man...? Individual who knew what was up. She leaned back on the counter, drumming her fingers pensively while looking at the back wall, as if to see if there were multiple vacancies.

"Theeenn I will take two full priced rooms, I guess."

 

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He most certainly wasn't. Not in this sort of environment anyway. He was more than happy to acquiesce to Loske in this situation, letting her do all the talking. He drew back his cowl as they stepped into the hotel, the smell of dry cleaning heavy in the air. The interior of the place was not all that terrible considering its outward appearance.

"Respects to Kivvie." Cedric intoned as Breab indicated the former owner's passing. The Gran paused to give Cedric a lidded stare, before continuing to speak to Loske. Once the deal was made, Breab offered the duo a keycard each for their respective rooms.

"You have anything to drink?" Cedric asked.

"Got slurmo and underland wine."

The thought of slurmo again made Cedric's stomach turn. The novelty of its flavor had worn off shortly after he'd finished it. "I'll take the wine." Credits chips were exchanged, Cedric covering both of the rooms.

Breab wandered off into the back closet, returning after a few seconds with an unmarked bottle of green liquid. Cedric took it with a raised brow. "Where's the branding?"

"Underland wine isn't a brand, just a term for the stuff we make in the back." Breab explained, "You taking it?"

The Jedi examined it for a moment, sighed, then nodded. "Sure. Thanks Breab."

Breab blew air out of his nose. "You're welcome hippie."

Cedric took that with a confused expression, but turned around to search for their rooms all the same.

[member="Loske Matson"]