Tarisian Nights

[Alexandra Feanor]

Taris, Ground side spaceport.​

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Alexandra kicked the speeder she had bought with a bit more anger than she meant to, but hey, who was she to blame. The bastard had sold her a speeder that broke down near minutes after almost like there was some timer to it. Further, the man had told her he would be glad to fix it for a price... which she had no more credits left what she needed to get off the planet in the first place so that was out of the question. Not that Alexandra couldn't fix it on her own if she wanted too, but she had no damned parts.​

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What was she doing here though? That was simple. She was here to look for the Circlet of Saresh, a historical object that Alexandra was looking for under the Guise of Maria Pellaeon, a decendant of a age old admiral that was returned to the halls of history and the past. But to her, that was a fine enough cover for the archaelogist who was collecting and storing pieces of history that had long since been left to be forgotten by time and decay.​

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She was not going anywhere though as her head leaned on the speeder and for a few seconds she debated walking out into the Tarisian lower grounds without anyone else with her. Sure she could pay for a mercenary, but she didn't have enough credits on her for that either unless she sold the junker of a speeder infront of her. And making a withdraw was out of the question, she had to keep up her appearances if this was to remain her cover on these missions.​

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She really needed a saving grace to help her find the damned circlet.​

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[member="Ryn'Dhal"]​

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

The how and the why of his arrival on Taris was a... cumbersome story, at best. The past few months since his liberation from his accidental 'exile' to that Dark World was by and large, a blur. As it stood, he knew, for some Force-driven reason, he needed to be here, on this world, at this time. And he was starting to think, that just maybe, he had just stumbled upon that reason.

There was a woman, whom he had just moments before witnessed purchasing a shoddy speeder off a swindler. While, not being a master mechanic himself, his keen hearing could easily pick up that the timing on the primary power-servos were off, way off. Which led to the cascading failures shortly after launch that left the woman stranded on foot, with said swindler attempting to wrangle a few more creds out of the woman to 'fix' the problem.

Shaking his head, the masked figure seemed to almost manifest from nothing, stepping out of the shadows. His presence in the Force by and large masked by his use of the Art of the Small, suppressing his signature as far as he could manage. As he approached the woman, he would reveal his gloved hands from beneath his cloak, palms splayed open towards the woman in a gesture of peace, showing he bore no ill-will. Once within proximity of the woman and her damaged speeder, the masked being would speak. His voice, while slightly muffled by the mask he wore, was soft, and melodic, in nature. "I pray forgiveness for my intrusion, if unwanted or unwarranted, but I couldn't help but notice you might have needed a hand. Is there anything I could do to help?" he would ask, his masked face angling slightly towards one shoulder. At this close proximity, the woman would be able to catch a glimpse of his eyes through the thin slits of his mask. Bright, golden, and glinting with keen awareness.

Keeping his gloved hands splayed in the open, the black-clad figure maintained a respectful distance, while he watched the woman, paying no mind to the obviously flustered swindler off several paces away, who seemed a might bit miffed that someone is possibly going to prevent him from squeezing a few more credits out of the woman.

[member="Alexandra Feanor"]​

 

[Alexandra Feanor]

[member="Ryn'Dhal"]

The voice was enough for Alexandra, her ebony hair that which she wore moving infront of her eyes as she looked through it, half past it, with her gaze over her shoulder. It was one sight of the eyes that made her draw the blaster she had placed on the side of the speeder and level it at him, though the trigger remained still. "You know, my father told me about your kind. So how about we do this a different way. Im not interested in what ever it is you are selling, im alittle busy looking for an item that was lost to this planet's surface back in the days of the Old Republic..." The City had recovered remarkably in all that time, though the Vong and the Plague had kept it in a much worse state than most had seen it at its prime.

The one thing that worried her was the Rakghouls. They weren't as plentiful these days, careful squads sent out to assist in the extermination of the menace as well as walled cities helped keep the infetion down but where she was heading was a zone that was not all too extinct of the ancient demons. It was a problem she knew she would have to face sooner rather than later but she was prepared to fend them off as well as with a few vials of the cure they had managed to replicate. The Rakghoul virus thankfully did not mutate like others did, keeping the cure as a viable medicine.

Focusing back on the man, she waited for him to leave, or to continue with what he had started to say, her other hand at her side with the saber hidden in her sleeve ready to be retrieved if she needed it. As far as Ryn would tell, she was a normal Human, even the Zorren tail hidden under her clothing. She prefered being known as Maria Pellaeon while out in the galaxy, it kept the word of her own death prevalent in most circles and kept any zealous sith from coming after her.

 

[Ryn'Dhal]

Golden eyes widened, before narrowing again, beneath the mask at the sight of the blaster. Figures... he'd think to himself. Frowning beneath his mask, the young Knight bowed to the woman. "I see.... my outward appearance alarms you.... Understandable." Rising up, he turned and moved off. "I wish you well in your endeavors miss." And with that, he proceeded away. No sense forcing his presence on one who so vehemently rejected it.

Moving along down the street, his mind moved on to other things. Food, for one. It'd been a many hours since his last meal. It just so happened, not far off there was a street vendor making and selling a stew. There was a small child, hungrily eyeing a bowl, and who's small, empty stomach made a long, low groan that the masked one was able to hear as he approached. Thinking little of anything other than the need he saw before him, he lay a few credit chips down for the vendor, and took two bowls. Handing one to the child, he'd gentle ruffle the young ones head, before walking off to a crate near an alleyway to sit and begin consuming his meal.

Taking care to only lift his mask enough for the spoon to slip into his mouth, without revealing his true nature beneath said mask to any around him, he ate, his mind roaming, trying to discern why he even was 'called' by the Force to this world to begin with. It truly was a wondrous, fickle thing, the Force....

[member="Alexandra Feanor"]​