This Old Cantina - Confederacy Space/Tatooine

[Serian Loria]

The storm raging outside was sending all sorts fleeing into the tavern, was it a coincidence or something else? The woman, from what he could hear, wasn’t too pleased with sharing a table with Shorn. The touch of another mind on hers, gentle, announcing its presence politely brushed hers If you seek a way to abandon your current company, I’d like to invite you to sit with me, I doubt he will wish to be in my presence again.

Through that brief contact she’d get a feeling of curiosity for her as well as a hint of distaste for the man annoying her. The last thing she’d get was an image of the corner booth, pointing her in the direction of who her speaker was. The touch would fade after that, he wasn’t sure she’d take him up on his offer, but then they were trapped in the tavern and she might decide he was better company sooner or later.


[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

"Yes, yes you can," Mikhail put his head in his hand and smiled infuriatingly. "Is this what Jedi temper tantrums look like, or do you just get some sense of accomplishment from imitating greatness?"

Her antics were amusing. If he hadn't initiated this whole ordeal might have been rather irritating. But he just loved getting a rise out of people. And right now, oho boy, right now he could feel something simmering just beneath the surface. Either she was a passable actress, or he evoked some sense of ire from her. Any day he caused a lightsider to misbehave was a good day in Shorn's calendar.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

 

[Long Gone]

This wasn't working...

This wasn't the same as lightsaber combat or a sheer test of Force powers against one and another. This wasn't hand to hand combat, or things she knew she was good at, this was all an emotional game and she was losing...bad. She never knew how to play these types of games, especially when it came to men. She would give him the unimpressed look as her hand fell to the table with a rough sigh, her head falling to the table shortly behind it. "I give up..." Then there was a touch on her mind, and with that intrusion she suddenly looked up from her pouting position at the table. She gazed beyond Mikhail and at the corner booth from the vision in her mind, eyes narrowing into slits.

"Ehm?" She held a hand up to Mikhail and looked again beside him. "Did you...?" It was a dumb question that he wouldn't be able to answer anyways, and she knew it. Now, she was more confused than before and three times as irritated. She wasn't more so irritated and confused at the man before her, but at whomever or whatever that had just violated her personal space. Indeed, she had let her guard down while playing an emotional game of footsy with a man that could have been dangerous but that wasn't the point. She had also failed to obtain any relatively useful information from him, but again, that was not the point. The biggest point was that someone had touched her and it wasn't the type of family touch in a physical or mental way, it wasn't even an intimate touch that one might share with a lover. It was an attempt to alter her senses...and it failed.

Aaralyn stood up from the booth, shifting out of her seat while her lightsabers clanked against her hips. She shifted and shimmied through the narrow passage until she came to Mikhail and grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled against him, as she pulled herself free the sound of grinding metal and leather made a rough noise as she passed through the narrow entrance to the booth. With a groan and a "Oof..." she stumbled the remaining way out and into a passing by patron who cursed at her in an alien language. Of course, much like anyone else on a mission, she disregarded the creature and continued on her course for the other side of the cantina. It was a curious thing that someone was even more ballsy than [member="Mikhail Shorn"] and would try such a thing. She walked passed the entrance where both [member="Ember Rekali"] and [member="Sicarius"] were seated and didn't bother to give either of them a glance, no, she was determined to find out out; Who and Why?

~Who in their right mind would try such a thing?~

As she came up to the booth, she brought both hands down harshly ontop the table with a thud and echoing slap. Her eyes piercing the darkness to stare at [member="Serian Loria"]. "Did you, just do that?"

 

[Serian Loria]

Lit ruby eyes flicked to look up at the woman, he rose an eyebrow “I invited you here yes, but I didn’t mean to have you direct your temper at me, I apologize.” It was spoken softly, heard above the din, but not loudly either. He had a precise manner of speech, cultured and clear, the accent would be a bit unfamiliar. It would be clear he was raised amongst those of high status, but the tones would not place him in any of the current social circles. “There are several places around the room like this one, I thought it would be easier if I showed you where exactly I was seated. I did not mean to do anything to startle you.”

He was dressed in a similar fashion to most, leather and durable cloth, his pants, boots and vest were brown. The shirt under his vest was undyed cotton pale greyish. It looked of good quality, but worn, he was used to travel and it showed. The cloak about his shoulders was a similar color to his shirt, but darker. His hood was down, his black hair mussed some framing his face, it made his eyes stand out, but not intentionally so. “My name is Serian Loria.”


[member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Sicarius"] got the same sort of acknowledgement he'd given. The Republic's wetwork man was making waves, and Ember might not ascribe to that flag anymore but he could appreciate that job...intimately. It had been his job for a good while, after all. Sicarius walked in his footsteps, and not just in methodology.

Indigo Vahla eyes settled on [member="Serian Loria"]. Context suggested some kind of mental intrusion, and Ember hadn't been gone long enough from Confederate space to forget the man who'd recommended sustained torture as a viable punishment option. But unlike Ember, the red-eyed man with the Templar signet ring was still Confederate personnel.

The small datapad made its way back to Ember's belt. As of yet, the masked Witch Elder didn't rise, nor did he look away from Serian. This situation was the definition of complicated.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Long Gone]

Aaralyn slowly lowered herself into a seat across from [member="Serian Loria"] and gave him a once over before she adjusted herself to where she was easily facing the wall to his right, her back to Ember. "Alright..." She brought her arm down ontop the table and began drumming her fingers slowly across the metal in a rhythmic fashion. "I hope you have a purpose in bringing me to you, beyond company. I'm trying to find some things that belong to me, some very personal artifacts and well so far it isn't looking good for each person that has interfered..." She stared at him with a stern expression before facing the wall again. Her senses slowly beginning to heighten, the drink she had earlier wearing off faster than she realized.

Things were indeed getting a bit more complicated with each passing moment, she got good intelligence from Rave but was unable to truly act on it. From the intelligence she got images of people, last known locations and so forth. Now, she needed to find a place to start. Of course, like any good place to look for trash, Mos Eisley was as good as any.

 

[Serian Loria]

He sat back folding his hands on the table studying her thoughtfully “You’d have an easier time moving through Confederacy space if you had our support. Fighting oft has started over smaller things.” He sighed softly “Tell me what you are looking for and I’ll help you.”

He didn’t make it seem like it would happen, but that it has in the past and not just with his own faction. He felt eyes on him and looked past her scanning the room. He caught a man who seemed familiar, he remembered him from the meeting about the traitor. He’d called for punishment for a man that had brutalized a woman and raped her. Such kinds deserved no mercy, but the woman in front of him was in no danger. Even had she decided to make herself his enemy he’d have sought to end it fast. He might follow the Dark path, but he had lines he would not cross. He went back to studying the Lightsider “I have a question about something. I understand the fragmentation of those that follow the Dark path, but why is it that those who follow the Light fragment as well?”

He wondered if she’d offer her perspective on why such a thing had occurred, he suspected it was due to politics, but that idea didn’t fit with what he understood of the Jedi. Granted it had been eight hundred and ten years, but he had always assumed the Jedi would be Jedi till the universe returned to the void. One expects such things of those who follow the Dark, but not those of the Light. However he made sure to phrase the question to leave himself out of it. He might follow the Dark path, but he walked the line between for the most part.


[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

An eyebrow quirked up as the woman slid up and past him. The touch of her hand on his shoulder caused a twitch of the lips that was gone in an instant, too quickly to discern whether it was a smirk or a grimace. Give up? His eyes followed her. But they were just getting star- oh. Shorn's gaze fell on [member="Serian Loria"].

Rolling his eyes, the Thronebreaker stood up and squeezed out of the booth, taking the bottle of bourbon with him. He went over to lean on the bar, where he caught the ending snippets of the conversation between the Templar and the mystery woman. Mikhail made a face as he heard the question posed to the woman. Dead Stars, was the Templar really trying to get into a philosophical debate? In a bar. In Mos hive-of-scum-and-villainy Eisley. Ugh. What a boor.

Shorn tipped the bottle upside down. A splash of bourbon poured into the air. He caught it, wrapping webs of air around it with telekinesis until the blob of liquor hung suspended in an orb. Then he casually flicked the blob at the back of Serian's head.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

Ember listened with helmet-enhanced hearing. The situation seemed to call for it. And he was very, very interested to hear the details of what came next.

 

[Long Gone]

Aaralyn stopped drumming her fingers almost immediately on the table and chuckled softly, biting her bottom lip as she withdrew her hand from the table. As her hand withdrew from the table, a single finger drug across the smooth, worn down metal with a grinding noise of mesh against metal. Her hand calmly settled in her lap with her other hand, clasping together as she chuckled softly. "I'm looking to personal things, as I said...artifacts." That would be all he needed to know, for now...

And then his question, one that seemed to grab at her and throw her against the wall. It wasn't literally throwing her against the wall, but in a metaphorical sense."What do you want me to say, hmm?" She tossed her head back for a moment and sighed heavily before bringing it back forward and offering him a shrug. "The Jedi aren't what they once were..." What could she really say? The Order was fragmented from what it was over eight-hundred years ago. The New Jedi Order was the Jedi in their prime, much like they were when they were in the days of the Old Republic. And then darkness came and took it all away, the inability and insecurity of people in the Jedi only cemented the fact that the Order couldn't hold itself together. A fragile existence even in Light, and with a single flick, it fell apart. Splinter organizations came about with the Jedi Order still being the dominant faction somehow.

It was about leadership, both the Sith and the Jedi suffered greatly in this category. Neither had any true sense of leadership or understanding how to operate and function. The Sith betrayed each other, one after another, hell even Aaralyn understood Darth Bane's rule of two and how well it seemed to work. The Jedi Order was too multi-faceted and lenient in their punishments of war criminals within their own ranks.

Aaralyn took a deep breath and exhaled heavily as her hands gently grazed the edges of her sabers in thought and thought alone. "Lack of confidence. There is no vy for power amongst the Jedi, when Grandmaster Skywalker was leading the Order it was different and now it appears there is no true leadership..." She said as she brought a hand up to make a motion, a swirling gesture in the air before it fell back down to her side. Her fingers delicately traced the edges of her saber as she continued to think. "There is no one to unite them together as a unified Order..." She stopped herself, the air in her chest catching as if she forgot how to breath. "We are all children of the Force but we don't truly know who to follow in the end...Light or Dark..."

It was a true statement, the Sith were scattered and acting selfish as were those who served the Light. It was everyone for themselves...

Had everyone become that lost?

[member="Ember Rekali"]
[member="Serian Loria"]
[member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Serian Loria]

He felt the stirring of Power, he’d been paying attention to the man since he felt it prudent not to ignore him. It was minor, but since his last encounter he was reminded of the last parting gift. He moved, using his empty cup to catch the drop of alcohol, it splattered inside it with a wet splish sound. He settled back and looked inside and shook his head “Seems your previous company took offense to you taking mine.”


He looked back at her and gave her a wry smile tapping a finger on his glass to show her what he’d just done. “One must follow the will of the Force, if one cannot trust one’s own will or the will of others. It matters not in the end the line drawn between, for what we all share is that above all else. So you are a Jedi of the Republic and not a Jedi of one of the fragmented factions?”

It might seem rather odd to some that such a conversation would start in such a place, but given the fact they were held in one place he’d prefer a philosophical discussion over anything unpleasant. His words in response were the best he could give, for it proved more true especially with her words, as it had with his own experiences.


[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Bored by the man's reaction and the situation in general, Mikhail poked the back of [member="Serian Loria"]'s head with telekinesis.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Ashin Varanin]

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Serian Loria"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

Ember continued to wait. If one thing made him alien to the Jedi Order, so far as he could tell, it was his ability to wait rather than take immediate, and potentially flawed, action due to some need to be the center of attention.

 

[Long Gone]

Aaralyn frowned slightly and gently adjusted herself in the chair. She didn't like the persistent questioning but she would play the game, for now. "Yes, I am, is there something wrong with that?" She ignored the previous statement, boys would be boys and it was the same as if she were a holovideo or toy to fight over. For the moment her focus was on information, and attempting to get something more than just a few selective words and philosophical talk out of the man before her.

"So, I'm hoping you brought me over here for more than lessons in philosophy and association?" Her tone shifted to a bit more serious than before. The curiosity was slowly wearing off to something a bit more in the annoyed range.

[member="Mikhail Shorn"]
[member="Serian Loria"]
[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Sicarius]

The hooded man said nothing, but instead watched and nursed his beer. He kept vigilance over the scene, waiting until he was potentially needed or until he could pull the woman or the armored man aside without distracting either one.

It was a tough, and odd, job being a Sentinel...

[member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Aaralyn Rekali"]

 

[Serian Loria]

The persistent annoyance was irritating, but he knew it would annoy Shorn more if he let it slide off him instead of giving in. He was like an overly indulged child, used to getting his way every time even when he did things to annoy his elders. A man who was clearly not a child should have had the wisdom to cease such unbecoming behavior, but clearly he didn’t. “No, there is nothing wrong with it, I was merely curious.”


Her mood was shifting, which he had to admit was rather fascinating, he’d never met a Jedi whose emotions were so off-centered. It explained why Mikhail had been egging her on, he’d basically taken away his new shiny toy. “I did offer you my help, I happen to be adept at the search for artifacts, something of a specialty of mine.” He shifted so his back was against the wall and not such an easy target, though he doubted it would stop shorn from finding something else. ”As for inviting you over here, it helped unpin you from his claws, did it not? I’ve been on the receiving end of his attempt to play games, they wear thin eventually. I’m sorry if my questions upset you, I didn’t mean for it to be so...one sided.”

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Ember Rekali"] [member="Mikhail Shorn"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

The lack of response did indeed irritate Mikhail, as did the bit about claws.

"Claws?" He muttered, looking down at his fingers. "I don't have claws." The Thronebreaker, Bane of Coruscant, Champion of the Cauldron, and general nuisance frowned irritably. The frown suddenly disappeared, overcome by the mischief within. Laughter in his eyes and the twitches of a smirk touching his lips belied the offended words. He made a cat clawing motion at Serian and the woman.

Suddenly, Shorn wrapped his will around Serian's seat and compressed it with telekinesis as he had compressed the Obsidian Throne of the Sith Empire. He always liked breaking the too-tall chairs of haughty fools. It tended to bring them back to earth and down to his level of childishness, where he could beat them with experience.

The seat broke into a hundred pieces that fell to the floor with a dull clatter.


It seemed the Templar needed a new chair.

[member="Aaralyn Rekali"] [member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Long Gone]

Aaralyn sighed heavily. Games, nothing but games. It's all she had been running to all day and even into the night.

And there it went, her eyes shot over to [member="Mikhail Shorn"] at the bar and narrowed into slits. "Really?" She yelled at him and pointed quickly and menacingly in his direction. "Start acting your age and not your boot size!" She quickly stood up and threw her hands up in disgust. "Did you really have to do that? I mean honestly!?"

This was beyond annoying and frustrating. "Is this really the time or the place to measure who has the biggest lightsaber?" She looked back at Mikhail and then to Serian. Men could not be this agitating could they!?

She pointed towards [member="Serian Loria"] in a harsh manner, her finger shaking a bit in agitation."Your people are holding artifacts that don't belong to you, I want to know where they are..." Her gaze had shifted from Mikhail to Serian as she did so, her tone of voice very stern and annoyed even.

[member="Ember Rekali"]

 

[Lord Ghoul]

Boot size? Shorn shrugged, "I go by metric."

 

[Long Gone]

"You must go by the larger metric scale to keep such a simple mind from getting too worked up then, and understand that it's not 167 centimeters and actually 1.67 meters..." She retorted.