Sand and Water, Tooth and Nail [Serian]

[Blackthorne]

The Silken Asteroids, now a mottled field of dust, debris, and all manner of space detritus, had never seen such a massive influx of mynocks. Feeding off the remains of the Horde's once grand fleet, they had multiplied by the hundreds until travel through and building within the field had become next to impossible. With work on Mynock buoys still on hold due to the current political affairs surrounding the Republic, the Moross Crusade was given to alternative methods.

Simpler methods. One suggested by a humble pirate taken into their numbers not but a few weeks ago on Subterrel.

"Why don'che just get a bunch o' tailrings. Four for every small ship aughta do yeh."

Sometimes the simpler approach could often be the better one.

Loxa Visl mused on this after receiving the strange missive from Aesir Inari. She was to take a small freighter to Mos Eisley, a known hub for the trade and sales of tailrings and tailring eggs; learn about the rearing and training of the creatures, preferrably offer a job to a skilled tailring breeder; purchase the entire lot and bring them back. All within CIS territory. All without drawing CIS attention. This the Steward believed she could do - there was nothing here outside of her own personal skillset. And so, without much further ado, she collected a small team and off set.

Mos Eisley - a few days later.

It was hot and dry, as to be expected of Tattooine, and something Loxa was not altogether unaccustomed to. Summers on Aaris III could get devastatingly hot - she recalled one year in particular during her youth when the rains did not come and water was nowhere to be found. Many people within her clan died that year, many tears were shed in the darkness of the night when the Clan Mother wasn't looking. This memory fresh on her mind, the Priestess tugged her cowl more tightly around her head and stepped into the local bazaar.

"All of them."
"All of them?"
"These, and these," Loxa's voice was lost within the din of people at the bazaar. She stood before the booth of a local exotic fauna dealer, admiring the gleaming scales of a caged adult tailring.
"You can't have them all. The eggs maybe, but I have over twenty trained adults and they're too expensive for you. I can't sell them all, no way. I need them to produce more eggs. How would I make a living, eh?"
"I have Phrik ore I can trade," she offered patiently.
"Do I look like a minerals man to you? What am I going to do with Phrik Ore, eh? Feed it to these beasts? No."
"What about a job? I can offer you unmatched security and much greater pay than what you make here."
"Wat," the man growled, though his eyebrows raised. He seemed to consider the offer for a moment before shaking his head, blustering, "no, no. You're with those Feds, I want nothing to do with them. You buy your tailring eggs and go. I'll throw in this one adult if you do it in a hurry. She's old and isn't producing like she used to."
"Very well," the woman smiled coyly from beneath her hood and passed the keeper a credit chit, "I will be back for the rest. Please consider the job offer."
"No! You can't have the rest and I don't want your job, don't come back!"

Handing off the case of eggs to one of her Aides, Loxa took up the caged tailring and gave it a good look, expression intrigued. Her saffron gaze glinted with something, perhaps a hit of mischief, but quickly pulled from the creature to a rise of noise further down the street. Something was happening...

 

[Serian Loria]

The commotion was over the fact a body had suddenly popped up in the middle of the large pool used for the various merchants to bring large animals to water and or take buckets to provide water for smaller animals. There was unrest because of the thought that the water was now contaminated, except the odd thing about the body was that it didn’t look decayed.

In that endless expanse of dark he had floated, hands not his own keeping him near one of few air sources. His body had gone into a deep stasis, though it hadn’t been anything he had done himself, perhaps the work of the Force for it might not yet be done with him. His body was broken, the deep sleep providing shelter for his mind. His spirit clung to his slowly dying body, a mere flicker of the pulsing light that was life lurked in his aura. The ship that he’d hired, a Confederacy charter, had long since gone and when he didn’t come to at least claim the things left behind shipped them to his residence.

His body had no identification, his clothing having been so soaked gave nothing to those who searched him, some merely for loot. It was a rather unfortunate circumstance, but if anyone with the Eyes to see could tell, if he didn’t get help as soon as possible he would lose the battle for life.


[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Loxa watched the gathering crowd from afar, golden irises cut narrow as she peered through the blistering sun. There was a commotion around a watering well, more than was likely usual. While her obligations might've needed her elsewhere, something about this scene pulled at her. She handed the cage off to her second aid and quietly slipped into the current of the crowds.

The buzz on the air grew seeded with anxiety the closer she drew to the well, and upon arrival Loxa gently pressed herself between two aliens to spy what appeared to be a human body pulled from the waters. Gaze flashing within her hood, the Priestess turned it across the courtyard. Without the scent of decay it must have been a recent event or, less likely, the man wasn't dead. Either way, Loxa reminded herself, this wasn't Crusade territory and she'd been ordered to keep her head down. She made to take her leave of this mess just as the locals began arguing over how to dispose of the body when something, once more, pulled at her.

A thrum-thrumming along the Force, so faint it could have been the beat of an insect's wings a mile away, but it was there and she had sensed it.

Thrum-thrum.

Loxa looked back to the body and pressed herself closer through the crowd.

Thrum-thrum.

Her eyes grew wider, taking in the man's features as his body was turned and lifted by the arms, head lolling, dark hair slicked over his face.

Thrum....thrum.

"Stop," she spoke, and upon getting no response empowered her voice over the Force, "stop! He's not dead - put him down."

That seemed to get their attention, enough for a momentary quiet to settle over the crowd. Loxa calmly approached the body and touched a hand to the man's forehead. She could feel it now, weakly, the thrum-thrumming upon the Force. His body might have shut down, but it was doing all it could to preserve his soul. His connection to the Force must have been strong to have sustained himself like this.

Loxa murmured a quiet word for Inari to watch over him before carefully scooping up the body and carrying him off through the crowd.

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

When he was brought to the medical facility he was turned over to the healers, the doctors couldn’t treat everything and what he needed was healing borne of the Force. The healers had taken one look at the condition he was in and almost despaired he’d be saved, but his will to live proved to be stronger than the wounds he had suffered. For a week he remained in their care as they took care of him. He had fractures over most of the bones in his body, clear breaks in his chest and ribs, damage to his throat and even his pelvic area. There was minor heat damage and smoke inhalation. He was a mess and had he been anyone else he’d have died. None of the healers could rouse him from the deep stupor his body had gone in, but they praised the gods that he was in it.

Almost half a week after that his vitals suddenly picked up, just as the last of the healing was done on him. He remained in a coma for the rest of the week till at random the nurse assigned to him reported signs that he had stirred before falling into true sleep. The notice of this change of state and awakening to the land of the living was sent to those of rank. No one had come in to tell him anything, content to let him drift in and out as he needed. He was still very weak despite the work done to save his life. The thing that puzzled the doctors was the oddities in his blood and vitamin levels, he did not have the levels most had. If anything he was considered in poor health compared to the more modern sciences. Even more peculiar was that he didn’t have any of the typical inoculations either. He was however, despite this, in excellent health and perfectly physically fit especially once he was fully healed. They did give him the necessary medical care so that he’d have up to date immunization records.

He came to with the sun in his face, he turned his head to blink at it more than a little annoyed. It took him a few minutes to orient himself and remember what all had happened to him. He didn’t try rising from the bed, his body was too weak, though he was in very little discomfort. He did feel odd, looking around brought his attention to the ivs in his arm and to that which was attached to them. He was in a hospital. That fact alone disturbed him, he couldn’t recall having ever required to be in one before and it made him anxious.

Still, he knew better than to do anything stupid, he seriously doubted he’d be able to sit up let alone get out of the building without serious effort and or assistance. A woman came in, but whisked out quickly when she saw he was fully awake. He couldn’t fathom why exactly she’d have such a reaction, but then the whole experience so far was very alien so he had no prior experience to base anything off of. He did note, with satisfaction, a certain measure of Power within himself. He still wasn’t fully recovered, he felt perhaps he’d be at fully strength in a week or sooner, hopefully. Still, what energy he did have was enough that he lifted and pulled the clipboard holding paperwork to him. What he read was a categorization of how he was treated and what for, the strangeness in his blood was also explained.

He didn’t much appreciate being given vaccines, but it was too late at that point to argue. The list of all his injuries made him wince, he had thought he had died, he should have. No doubt he’d have too many questions to answer, he remembered who was responsible, but everything after that first engagement was fuzzy. He’d have to meditate on it the next chance he had, he needed to know what exactly had happened to him. He felt the hate seething inside him, Shorn would have much to answer to if ever they encountered each other again. Whether or not the man still lived however he wasn’t sure, but if he did he’d regret it. He tested his limbs, taking stock of just how weak his body was. He must have been in bed for some time, carefully he felt around and found a remote. After a few moments he found the bed controls and made it sit him up.

Whatever was going on he would be damned if he was laying flat like an invalid. He would also make it clear he wanted to leave as soon as he could make arrangements. He did know one thing, judging from his file, he wasn’t in Confederacy space for they would have been able to pull up his name from their records. This place didn’t have them, which brought him to that conclusion, it bred more questions, specifically ‘why’. He’d make sure to get answers the next chance he had someone come into the room. He didn’t have enough energy to defend himself, but what power he did have was enough to snare someone’s mind and use that control to get what he needed. He would just have to be patient.


[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

Some time later the quiet of Serian's hospital room was broken by the soft hiss of his door. A figure robed in colors of weathered-white, gray, brown and red padded softly in. Her energy was serene, her composure calm and collected. Her entrance was not one that so often disrupted the flow of things, but carefully waded in and joined the current. The woman's hood was drawn, as was her usual way of presentation, and when she turned to peer down at the patient what features of her face could be seen were amiably curious.

Upon finding the man awake, as the attending Healers had said, she did smile faintly.

"Hello," the robed woman offered gently, her voice a svelte, exotic thing heavy with the accent of the Dathomiri language, "it is good to see you awake. May I sit and speak with you?" she indicated towards a chair near his bed.

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

Lit ruby eyes took in the woman, the lithe form garbed in her robes, the silken voice. His overall impression of her made him highly suspicious, it didn’t help matters she had a Dathomiran accent. In his past they had had a clan of the Witches in their order and he hadn’t been impressed with them much, a feeling that was mutual given their ways towards men. He’d learned plenty about them and, wondered what clan she came from. Since she was taking a more demure route and being polite he figured her for one of the sort less likely to try to eviscerate him for even looking upon her. He resisted the urge to make a smart quip at her question, didn’t she realize he wasn’t likely to have much ability to protest? “By all means… I have about half a legion worth of questions, hopefully you’ll be able to answer them.”

His accent was crisp, clean, precise, a lit to it that marked the tones of an aristocrat though what sort would be hard to tell as it wasn’t part of the modern inflections. There was something else to his voice however, something that might mark his planet of birth, even if the lit was odd. For anyone even slightly familiar with Kuat, one could tell that he had been born and raised there, but the sound would be different. The cadence would be similar, purer perhaps, than the eight hundred and ten year gap that would have probably muddled the tones of his past. He was polite, but there was the hint that he was annoyed, though just shy of being blatantly obvious. “Might I be able to ask some of my questions first?”




[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

If the woman picked up on the man's subtle inflections of irritation, she did not react to it. Instead she took hold of the chair and drew it closer to his bedside where she took a seat, smoothed her robes, and folded her hands in her lap.

"I welcome your questions," her reply came shortly thereafter, "and I will do my best to answer all that I can." An expectant gaze met him then, though shadowed by her cowl, it was perfectly clear that she was content to wait her turn.

 

[Serian Loria]

It was a relief that she didn’t argue, though he didn’t let it show. “First I’ll start by giving you my name, Serian Corsair Loria. Last I recall I was in Confederacy space, but now I find myself here. Which, begs the question, of where ‘here’ is exactly and aside from medical attention, for which I am thankful, why ‘here’ in this place? I’d also like to know who it was that brought me here, I owe this person a debt.”

He then stopped, he had other questions, but those could be answered when she told him what he had just asked for. Naturally it would breed more, but for now he would wait and see.



[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

The woman's lips pulled into a short smile and she gave a humored nod. It was not that his situation was amusing, only that she had fully expected those questions in some form. It was only natural, given the state he'd been found it.

"You are on Exocron, Serian Corsair Loria, the capital planet of the Moross Crusade. You are here because because I am the one who found you -" she placed a hand to her bosom and gave him a short bow of her head, "Priestess Loxa Visl, Steward of the Crusade, at your service."

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

The Moross Crusade was a small territory on their border, they were closer neighbors with the Omega Protectorate however. He wasn’t all that familiar with them save for that they were a religious order that bought into the foolery that deities existed. He hid his disdain and contempt the bubbled up, such nonsense, but when in the nest of a strange fowl one tried not to insult that which was playing host. “Ask your questions, if I can I’ll answer them all.”

He laid his own to rest, he’d find them out in due course and he wanted to know what she might ask of him. He didn’t have his signet ring, he wondered if that was taken from him or if he lost it. He also wondered if she saw him as an enemy or an ally.


[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

The Priestess wore an easy smile and gave a goodnatured chuckle, "You have been through a great deal, this is not the time for many questions. This is the time for rest and healing," a better time would come for questions. A better person to ask them, as well. Her smile persisted, warm despite his seemingly cold demeanor.

"I am but a... what word do you say ...a caretaker for you? A friend while you recover. To make things easier. I hope that is agreeable. For now, I have but one simple question," she leaned forward a bit, smile splitting faintly, "are you hungry?"

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

He was even more suspicious than he’d been before “No, I’m not hungry, I suspect they’ve put any number of things in me that they might have had that covered as well. Why do I need a ‘caretaker’ and what exactly is going on?”

He was a man not easily fooled by a pretty face, a man not easily placated either. He knew he should try and eat something, but he had no appetite whatsoever. Who was pulling her strings? She hadn’t exactly answered any of his questions, he wanted out of bed and away for he suddenly wondered if he was being held against his will. “Am I a prisoner then?”





[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"Prisoner?" the response held a hint of surprise to it. Loxa took a moment to glance around at his surroundings; a quiet, private hospital room with all the typical furnishings of what would otherwise be considered very comfortable accommodations, aside form the sterility of the environment.

"Maea falla," a Dathomiri term of strange dialect, equivalent to the exclamation of 'goodness me', "is that what you feel? I apologize if this is your impression of us. You are no prisoner, Serian Corsair Loria, as you like you are free to leave, though I would not think it wise in your state. Please excuse me, basic is not my first language, and sometimes it is difficult to say what I need." The Priestess took a breath and gently cleared her throat, "Because it was I that found you and brought you here, so it is I that will see you through your recovery and help you along the way. It is only right that I do, you are my responsibility now until you are well enough to return home. You were very near death when I found you on the planet Tattooine, so in the hands of the greatest Healer I know, you were placed. As I knew she could, The Reviver mended your broken body so that you may live."

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

So then she didn’t know he was a member of the Confederacy and someone of rank. It was still too early to feel any relief, she might not have known the significance of his signet, but this ‘Reviver’ of hers might. A facility such that he was in could be easily fabricated and staged, though he doubted even if his signet showed his rank they’d go this far. It was still a possibility however, but he’d play along. “I suppose I could be over reacting a bit, forgive me Priestess. So what happens now? I’ll recover enough to be able to move on my own in the next two days, though I suspect I’ll need aid some. I’ve never taken well to extended convalescence, will this...Reviver of yours be paying me a visit?”

In his current state he would be helpless against perhaps even those of the most junior rank. He suspected this individual was a force user, but then it could be some being derived of the force or from the creation of force borne magics. He assumed it would be a more mundane thing and pe a person, not Other.

[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"That I cannot know," Loxa replied, "the Reviver's duties to her people and realm are endless." It was not within her right nor power to know what the Aesir desired, but she suspected that Inari would make a visit to the man before it came time for him to leave. If nothing else, The Reviver had proven quite amenable to the needs of people, including outsiders.

"If you are not hungry, perhaps then I will pursue a curiosity and another question," a new sort of smile wavered on the unshadowed portion of her face, something stuck between a desire to remain polite and a hint of wariness at the man's physical state, "how is it you came to be so close to death on the planet Tattooine?"

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

He closed his eyes and sighed “Mikhail Shorn, the two of us had a fight, but I don’t remember much of the ‘how’ of how I was injured, nor do I recall if he perished. Sadly, I suspect he is like a cockroach, my only hope is that he is more injured than I or better yet, dead.”

He was alive because his path was not over, the Force had yet to decide to keep him. For what remains a mystery, but if he kept going as he did he might just find the answer.


[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"Shorn..." Loxa looked pensive for a time, tipping a finger to her lips in thought, "this is a name I know ... but from where?"

Not from the tabloids, as one might expect. Nor from any affiliation with the Fringe. Loxa had yet to meet the man in his own home despite being the Crusade's Ambassador within that realm. No, the name rang familiar because the man had aided in the Crusade's march against the Horde in the Silken Asteroids.

"Ah yes, the asteroids..." she did no elaborate. Saffron eyes settled back on Serian, "what is it you fought over?" The question was tentative, as though expecting a sour backlash for pressing what was perhaps a touchy subject for him.

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

He shrugged “I cannot speculate on his motives. I wasn’t interested in a fight, he attacked me while my back was turned, I know more must have happened, but its...missing.”

The man seemed to have a reputation he had to wonder what he did to be so familiar to the woman. “In any case I don’t think I can provide more answers on that subject.”

That and he really didn’t want to focus on that right then, it was profoundly disturbing to him that he couldn’t recall everything.



[member="Loxa Visl"]

 

[Blackthorne]

"I see," Loxa said with a nod. The Priestess watched the man for a short time in silence, pondering on a few things.

"I can help with memories," the woman said then, raising a hand to touch lightly at her left temple, "this is something I have extensive knowledge and practice in. Of course I understand if you do not want for the help, but simply know it is there, if you do."

Most people did not knowingly elect for such procedures. Entering the minds of others was a dangerous task, and sifting through their memories a delicate endeavor, but Loxa had learned from one of the best mental manipulators she'd ever met - and the Crusade had granted her access to quite a large sum of people. She'd even used it at the behest of her Aesirs, when it was required that some things known become...unknown.

[member="Serian Loria"]

 

[Serian Loria]

His lit ruby gaze glittered “Entering my mind would take effort as I do not trust you, but I appreciate the offer. I’ll meditate on it if it turns out it won’t return on its own, it is not difficult to travel through the events and unlock it.”

He made a note that this woman could be troublesome if he should ever run afoul of the Crusade. He didn’t have any plans or desire to do so, but one can never know what might happen. War was a constant thing and his faction had many enemies, who is to say that she was not one?



[member="Loxa Visl"]