Kassil's Star Wars: Shadows of the Force

[Kassil]

Location: Pillar Station, geosynchronous orbit over rogue planet Pinnacle

The marking of a new year is cause for celebration for most of the galaxy, but for the inhabitants of the Pinnacle 'system', it passes by almost unremarked upon. In the wake of the Sith War, there is too much to do, too many threats left facing the galaxy, for time off for something so common to even be considered. Here, in the secretive stronghold of a little-known branch of the Jedi Order, there is only vigilance and industry.

Not only Jedi dwell here; numerous specialists also live in the station, on the frozen world below, or in one of the small orbiting stations or starships. Pilots, shipbuilders, engineers, scientists, and all the minor details that make up the response teams of the Jedi Sentinels live in the eternal dark of the interstellar void, ready to respond to the call of the Masters of the Sentinels, should the Seers detect a disturbance in need of correction.

So it is that one such small response team is aboard Pillar this day, waiting for their sponsoring Master to contact them with a mission.

The game opens in one of the station's cantinas, a place subdued and peaceful compared to the usual rowdiness of stationside cantinas...

Players can note where they are and what they're doing, and interact if they like.

[LRuul]

A female duro (her gender distinguishable to non-duro eyes by a lighter browridge and more pronounced cheekbones) leans against the serving counter and sips from her mug of khaf. She's looking out the transparent duraplast bulkhead, opposite the bar, apparently giving no heed to the other patrons. The view has got to be the only plus to working in a place like this, she thinks, But it would make up for a lot. Someone must have agreed, for the interior lighting is dim, so that no stray lights distract from the timeless tableau outside.

Outside. The stars are steady chips of fire, most with only the faintest off-white hints of color. The view changes slowly over time, as Pillar Station matches Pinnacle's roughly week-long "day". Too bad they don't do fireworks here. There's no primary star to outshine the display.. it could be spectacular. Ah well, the crystal-moth nebula should be within the field of view today, if that cluster of stars was what she thought it was. Crystal-moth was a dim one, hard to catch - might she spot it with the naked eye?

[Crys Flarerider]

What exactly, he had been expecting when he had shipped out of his homeworld, seeking better training in his art than he could find on that backwater, Crys wasn't exactly sure. It was fair enough to say, however, that it really hadn't quite been this particular order, or this particular place. As he slumped by the bulkhead, which did little to conceal his tall, broad shouldered frame, the human did decide that he had, he thinks, expected to at least train under the sun.

While his eyes could not help but be drawn to the burning pinholes in the eternal cloak of night beyond the station, it was not long before he tired of the view, and strode to the bar itself, a few low words getting him a tumbler of something amber and fizzy. Walking back towards the duraplast, he followed the Duros female's eyes, mostly out of idle curiousity. "Seeking something in particular, Traveler?" His voice is low, the tone polite, but curious.

[RiaHawk]

Karliri was bored. There was nothing happening here. Sure, there was business to be done on the station, but everyone was so serious here. Work, work, work, and no time to have fun.

She blamed the Jedi.

Well, they could do what they liked, and she could do what she liked. That was why she was currently sitting on a table in an out of the way corner, building a tower of glasses from the bar. She'd done this enough times now that the bartender elected to just ignore her; protests only encouraged her.

At least the view was nice.

[LRuul]

Crys Flarerider wrote:

"Seeking something in particular, Traveler?" His voice is low, the tone polite, but curious.

"Crystal-moth nebula," the duros replies, sparing the human a glance. "Pretty young as nebulae go; just old enough that its parent star has turned cinder and doesn't light it up very well. Not quite old enough for many new stars to have condensed out of the dust."

She waves her half-full mug vaguely towards the floor, "Galactic north is that way, and the Core is behind me at the moment." Her empty right hand indicates a more dense area of the starfield, towards the upper right of the transparent bulkhead's view, "And that's the Ssesh Cluster. So the nebula ought to be in here somewhere," she indicates an area directly below it with a flat-palmed wave. "See anything?"

[Varkon Bel]

There was one in the cantina not bothered by the environment outside. Arkanians were used to enclosed cities amidst the tundra, and the frozen landscape of Pinnacle beyond the station's bulkheads was almost familiar. New year, similar sights.

That included the female duro by the bulkhead. From the bar, the white-haired male looked idly at the patrons, then caught sight of the human going to the bar, returning and addressing her. The station was not so large that they had not run into other a few times during their stay there, and Laaca... suffice to say, she was nice enough for him to enjoy her company once in a while, which was more than could be said for a good share of the current Pillar occupants.

Downing what remained of his cold drink, the lean arkanian rose to his feet and crossed the room to the pair by the duraplast. To the human he gave the briefest of nods, before turning his white eyes to the duro.

"Making friends or giving a lecture, Laaca?"

[Crys Flarerider]

"Mm. I fear your eyes are far more suited for astronomy than mine, yet, a degree or so to our left of that, I cannot see the deep field. Perhaps that is your nebula."

Though the human's silver-gloved fingers but wave in the direction, the intent is perfectly clear enough to guide the other's eyes, should she choose to follow them. Approached, he can only chuckle slightly. He'd not been here long, and it did seem to be a small and insular station. May as well consider it friend making, Crys supposes.

[RiaHawk]

Karliri was tired of the glasses. So, when she noted a group clustering near the window, she hopped down and invited herself over, peering out into space to see what they were looking at. "...All I see is stars and more stars."

[LRuul]

Varkon Bel wrote:

"Making friends or giving a lecture, Laaca?"

The duros leans forwards a bit to see Varkon past the human, "Yes," she replies, with a hint of mischief. Her answer would equally have served the two random strangers, but they might not get it.

Looking back and forth between the human male and female, she points out amusedly, "You've heard my name, so maybe we should make an introduction out of it. I'm Laaca, this is Varkon, and you two are..?"

The player has learned that Pinnacle is oriented differently in the galaxy than she'd thought, s.t. the above stellar orienting directions are gibberish. Oops.

[Crys Flarerider]

"You may call me Crys." The male human bows then, with all the regal nature of some ancient, secluded court somewhere, his hand gesturing in front of his jet black jumpsuit, trimmed with a thin, silvery fabric. "Just got in here a short bit ago, yet I already find I miss having one of those stars at a reasonable orbit. It's a bit cold outside." The grin he flashes as he speaks is at the borderline of self assuredly warm and cocky, softened by the mischief that another human or near-human could easily read in his eyes.

[Kassil]

All of your communication devices chirrup at the same time.

The Message:

"Your presence is requested in briefing chamber Aleph-7, pertaining to a new mission for which you will be part of a new team. Please arrive with all due haste."
-Master Quel'jang

A small navigation marker shows on the devices, indicating the quickest route.

[Crys Flarerider]

As his communicator rings, Crys's hand pulls aside the sleeve of his jumpsuit, revealing the thin wristband beneath, the gesture somehow apologetic for its rudeness. A touch, and the message appears in thin air, over his arm, his eyes flickering over it for only the barest of moments.

The message burned in his brain, the man smiles that mischievous grin once more, even as he registers the likelihood of the others receiving exactly the same message over exactly the same system. He makes a sound that sounds rather suspiciously like a dog barking, before he says, more seriously, "All of you, too? Unexpected." And then, somehow, some way, he manages to make that mischievous grin actually glint. "As a group, then?"

Quel'Jang can still feel him as he approaches, that much Flarerider knew. But testing his own limits against the stern taskmaster was, in someways, important to the man. He would learn what the man had to teach. But the Jedi master would never understand the Ralian teachings. He couldn't. For the moment, he would loop even more strongly to the inside, soothing his presence to the minimum.

[RiaHawk]

"I'm Karliri," she said, in response to the duro's question. She still had her nose pressed up against the window, trying to see what was so interesting. She looked rather like a child when she did that.

When her communicator chirped, she made a face. "Wonder what the stuffy old coot wants." Then she shrugged. "At least it's something to do." She considered the small map on the display, then the others. "Race ya!" She took off.

[Varkon Bel]

He knew what to expect from Laaca. From the other two, he'd have to wait and see. They couldn't be completely useless, if they had been assigned a mission. It might be something menial, but Varkon could do menial, as long as the pay was good.

A white eyebrow rose at the girl's excitement--just like that, she was filed away from 'woman' to 'girl'. He would certainly not race ya with someone that thought "stuffy old coot" was an apt descriptor.

Instead, Varkon turned toward the duro, quizzical expression turning to genial mischief in the wrinkles around his eyes as he offered her his arm. "Shall we go, my lady?"

[LRuul]

Laaca watches Karliri's retreating back, blinking in mild confusion as the deeply-ingrained stationside norms of her youth protest that footraces in the common corridors are Just Not Done. Let her go, she'll find out. Or maybe the Jedi will be too polite to say anything. Their problem.

The duros responds with a look of equal mischief and places a turquoise-skinned hand on Varkon's forearm, "Yes, let's."

So far as she could tell, 'all due haste' translated into Service-slang as something like 'efficiently', but didn't shade towards 'at your leisure'. After all, she'd never seen a Jedi run for anything but exercise or a real emergency.

[Crys Flarerider]

For a split second, the call to simple competition rang in Crys's mind, and ached there like the song of a siren. But he had sought his feelings, and knew it to be true: He thought Quel'Jang had the potential to be a prick. Why give him the excuse to impose discipline upon the pride of Clan Flarerider the hard way?

And so, he walks along with the Duro and the Arkanian, slightly to the fore, his bearing now erect and straight. Each step is measured and precise, and though he follows that line of the communicator, it is with an unusual lack of deviance from it, complete efficiency in his motion.

[Kassil]

Karliri:

You're the first to arrive, since none of the others seem willing to give chase - although you do think you spotted a moment of hesitation in the other human, like he almost started after you. When you step into the room, you get a disapproving look from Master Quel'Jang in response to your relative state of exertion, but he lets it pass without comment.

Crys Flarerider:

As you walk along, you can sense a subtle shift in the Force - the balance of it is being shifted, ever so subtly, to orderliness. The natural ebb and flow of Light and Dark is being tilted slightly but distinctly toward the Light the closer you get. It's gotten to be a familiar, but decidedly unpleasant feeling when around Quel'Jang.

Entering the room is like stepping out into the starry void outside the station - the lights have been dimmed to near-total darkness, permitting Master Quel'Jang to doff his habitual shielding visor that he wears in the more usual lighting of the rest of the station. A tall, thin near-Human with eyes that are almost entirely pupil, he wears crisp white robes with an antique-looking lightsaber clipped to a belt at his waist. He almost radiates an aura of severity and control, augmented by the sharp lines of his garments and the precise movements of his body as he surveys each of the assembled before addressing them all in slightly-accented Basic.

"Good. You were prompt. Some," he glances at Karliri, "moreso than others." He gestures with a hand, prompting the door control to chirp and the portal to slide shut. "I am assembling the four of you as a new team. Seers on the surface have reported troubling omens regarding a verdant moon in the Gaspori system - specifically, the third moon of Gaspori IV, home to a moderately large population. The Seers report omens of Sith influence among the population. Your mission will be to go there and investigate - and to stamp out any trace of the Sith which you uncover. Your team will be assigned a modified Lambda-class shuttle, augmented with an improved hyperdrive motivator and two dual-lasers for defense. Varkon, the ship will be your responsibility. Karliri, your specific mission is to use your... Particular set of skills to acquire information and, if need be, allies. Laaca, you are fire support if needed and assigned the task of ensuring no trace of Sith influence remains. Padawan Flarerider... You will be in overall charge of the mission itself."

He pauses, as if anticipating questions.

[LRuul]

Laaca gives Crys a newly appraising look. So this was their junior-officer-equivalent. Lucky him, he'll get to buffer abrasive people above and below. The duros doesn't except herself from that evaluation, nor does she spare Quel'jang, who she knew from experience could be quite a martinet when it suited him. No matter - someone needed to do the job, and she'd give Crys a chance to do it well.

This time, it sounded like the mission might involve a certain amount of skillfully-arranged explosions. If she was lucky, it would be more than enough compensation for Varkon being granted the shuttle this time around. And she would have to find out what sort of "particular skills" Karliri brought to the group.

Laaca asks of the senior Jedi, "Can you be more precise about these 'omens'?" Vague intelligence, vague instructions to match. At least she'd seen the Gaspori system on a map.

[Crys Flarerider]

The Padawan nodded, as he absorbed this omen. "As you command, Master." Centering his mind, Flarerider closed out the hard, crystalline facets of Quel'Jang, much as he once closed away the roaring hunger and rage that permeated his homeworld.

"Like as not, they move for a reason. I assume that our Seers have not yet pinned it down. Is there a file on the places and history of Gaspori IVc for us to peruse?" He would, you see, prefer not to spend his time upon the Lambda consulting Hyperbing for the history of a random moon. It would also be better to beat the Sith to their goal, and seal it away, in order to dispel their reason for being there. Confident as he was in the lightsaber tucked within his utility belt, blazing battles in the streets never really went as planned.

[RiaHawk]

Karliri shrugged mentally at the Jedi's irritation. She didn't really care one way or the other about the mysterious Jedi Order. She was in it for the profit, both monetary and influential. Period. Though from what she'd heard about the Sith, they could be bad for business. And she really didn't care if the Jedi Master was annoyed at her or not. He might not like her, but he needed someone like her, or she wouldn't have been here in the first place.

Besides. She liked it when people underestimated her.

Mentally, she was compiling a list of things to research about this moon. Who was in charge, what the general political and economic climate was like, the opinion of off-worlders and any off-worlders with influence there... and whatever else she could dig up. If she could do what needed to be done through legitimate means, fine. But there was also bribery, intimidation, data theft, and good old fashioned blackmail. That could be fun too.

[Varkon Bel]

Very sorry for the delay. The last days were draining.

Master Quel'Jang's hesitation over the girl's task in the upcoming mission did not escape Varkon. He chose to file that for later, though, since they had more pressing matters at hand. Assigning a padawan to supervise the team could mean one of two things: either it was that menial, which was unlikely with the possibility of Sith influence, or the Jedi Master thought Crys was a capable individual. Whether he actually was able to lead a team would remain to be seen, but the arkanian was hopeful.

After the others' questions, he added, "What kind of Sith influence?" Military? Philosophical? Political? That specific information could weigh heavily on their approach to the situation.

The ship seemed pleasing enough. Lambda-class shuttles weren't known for their speed in normal space, but the artillery--especially with the added dual-laser turrets--should make up for it if the situation called for such. Hopefully, it wouldn't, but it was always better safe than sorry.

[Kassil]

"The omens are.. Irritatingly vague. The consensus report is of a black-robed figure, backlit by a red lightsaber, looming over the moon. Divergences suggest the Sith influence is rooted in multiple forms - the Seers have witnessed visions of broken crowns, a city in flames, and a ruined temple in a jungle." Quel'Jang scowls, spreading his hands. "As much as I wish I had more complete information, I do not. That is a part of your mission - gathering data so that we can more precisely interpret such visions in the future." His gesture includes both Laaca and Varkon, indicating his inclusion of both their questions.

He nods to Crys. "You will have a datafile from the Archives for your perusal. Additionally," he gestures with a hand, and a small chit flips through the air to Crys. "This contains the funds authorized by the Vigilant for this mission. Use it to procure whatever supplies you and your team find necessary, Padawan Flarerider. Try to avoid doing anything more illegal than strictly necessary." This comes with a mild glance in Karliri's direction, and a hint of a smile so faint it might as well have been nonexistent. "If you have no other questions about the mission, I suggest you be off swiftly."

[RiaHawk]

"Illegal by which standards? Galactic core or local?" Because there could be a significant difference, sometimes. Not that it mattered all that much. So, sure, she'd try it the legal way first. But if and when that turned out to be cost-prohibitive or impossible, she wasn't going to worry about it too much.

[Siren_no_Orakio]

As Flarerider took the chit with his mind alone, it floated in the air before him a moment, as he looked at it, before it found its own way into the pouches of his utility belt.

"It is little, but it is perhaps a start. It is for us to tease cause from effect, and course from destination." Shaking his head, he fiddles with the utility belt a bit more, clipping the hilt of his lightsaber to the outside. It is, after all, the closest thing to a badge of authority that a Jedi may carry. In comparison to the antique and graceful appearing hilt resting on Quel'Jang's hip, Crys's blade is primitive and unwieldy in appearance, obviously created by a craftsman who had nearly lost the art.

Still, he recognizes dismissal when he hears it, and so he turns, frowning quietly, meaning to leave, letting the others to follow. He would prefer to lead by example, it appears. Finally, when out of earshot of Quel'Jang, he sighs softly, and murmers, "Portents and omens. Mysteries of the Force. Try to understand 'em, but can you? Nope! They're mysteries."

[LRuul]

Laaca chews this over for a moment, her expression reflexively schooled to neutrality while she does so. If that's what they've got, that's what they've got. No help for it, except to hope that one of her new teammates was adept at gathering such information.

The duros nods briskly to acknowledge Quel'jang's dismissal, and turns to follow Crys a step or so behind.

[Varkon Bel]

Irritating indeed. Black-robed figure backlit in red? What a show. Still... I did want a challenge. Should not complain when given what I ask for. His mouth twisted in a half smirk before he gave a curt bow of his head at the Jedi Master and turned to follow the others out of the chamber.

"They are aptly named, then." The words had a touch of humor, an off-handed remark on the padawan's mutterings. In his head, he was going through equipment lists, setting down indispensable items for the journey.

[RiaHawk]

Karliri gave the Jedi Master a mock-salute and skipped off after the others. Her question had been more rhetorical anyway, and if he didn't answer it, she could interpret it as she saw fit.

As she caught up with Crys, she grinned up at him. "I think they like to be mysterious on purpose."

[Crys Flarerider]

The Padawan grins back down at Karliri, a sloppy, mischevious sort of grin. "Sometimes. Sometimes. My lecture schedule says maintaining a mysteriously grave mien is a second semester course." With a grandiose wink, he clearly turns his attention, though not his eyes back to the others.

"Varkon, Laaca. You've seen enough to know what the sort of mission needs. I trust that you can handle assembling basic supplies. Remember that if it comes to it, a Dark Jedi fights not against the blaster in your hand, but against your intent. Be ready to exploit that."

And then he frowns, concern apparent in his dark eyes. "I, at this time, know little of this Gaspori system, but if a Sith moves there, there will be ripples. Karliri, let us build a picture of the system when it is still."