---

"Yes ma'am, trouble seems to follow us," Rask repeated as they walked out of the cantina. The two stood there for a moment, Rask blinking in the day's afternoon light like some nocturnal creature caught out after sunrise. His eyes adjusted and he was able to take in the scene around him.

The street was surrounded on either side by squat prefab buildings made of cheap durasteel and small windows. These buildings, once new and shining bare metal, were now rusting and painted in vibrant and garish colors. Crude additions or second, third, and even fourth floors were added to some habitats, giving the whole street the feeling of being cobbled together. Each building's appearance reflected its inhabitant's tastes. Some walls bore murals depicting brave Mandalorian protectors with blasters in hand, or other artwork the occupant's previous homeworld. Others looked like the art of young children, stick figures of small families and flowers and other doodles. In the narrow spaces between each dwelling merchants hawked their wares in makeshift stalls. Food, trinkets, artwork, anything and everything that anyone could ever want. The entire community grew from a single point, the spaceport exit, and now encircled the spaceport entirely. Rask could see ships of every make and model land or take off from the heart of the district.

Once a refugee camp after the fall of the Republic, it had grown into something much more. Something the residents seemed proud of.

The streets were packed with people from around the galaxy, and the locals were pleased with these new arrivals. A chance to make some money, and a chance to display their new lives, gifted to them through the protection of Mandalore, many would say.

"Didn't tell you who I'm lookin for," Rask spoke to Cel over the din of music from the cantina behind them and the voices of vendors calling out their wares. "Twi’lek woman, name of Zi'Aii Nenta, though I expect she'd have changed it by now. Hell, probably changed her face too, if she's smart. Which she is. Too clever by half sometimes."

Rask looked at the cantina and watched as a team of small droids with flat, oval heads scrambled up the side of the building and set about painting over the sign that read "L4's Place." In a matter of seconds, the updated version said "Z3's Place." The sign had several layers of paint over the first two letters. Apparently, this establishment changed hands frequently. He shook his head ruefully and continued.

"She were a Republic agent. Once. Turned bandit the day that well ran dry. Now she's tryin' her hand at somethin new. Representin Confederacy interests on Ryloth, or some such thing. Don't rightly know much about it. All I know is she's on this planet, and I aim to find her, and bring'er to justice." Rask fiddled with the memory chip in his pocket. He thumbed the scorched half of it that was left. H1-VOK's memory chip. All the droid was, and all it would ever be, all in his pocket. He swiped the chip from the droid's head at the cantina, only to find he'd blown right through it when he executed H1. It would take a miracle to recover anything intelligible from the fragmented data leftover.

Stupid. Stupid to do it like that. Ain't no description of a fool you fail to satisfy.

Rask caught a glimpse of two odd figures in the crowd. Their frames were swathed in bandage-like robes and two narrow tubes jutted from their wrapped faces where eyes might be. They carried strange clubs with spikes on their bulbous ends. Tuskens.

"Well if that don't beat all," Rask said, more to himself than anyone else. "Fellas must be lost. If those are fellas. Hard to say." He'd encountered Tuskens before. He knew very little about them, but he was certain they never left Tatooine. They had neither the inclination nor the technology. Or so he thought.

More sounds of fighting from the cantina behind them. Rask didn't pay any mind, transfixed on the Tusken casually walking through the crowd with little more than a few curious glances from passerbys. Then a shot rang out.

Rask spun, blaster drawn, just in time to see a grinning New Imperial holding their gun just as the cantina doors slammed shut.

Slow. Too damn slow. You coulda been shot. Coulda been dead. Cel coulda been dead.

He'd lose sleep over that, he knew.

He returned the blaster to its holster as a slouching man approached them, garbed in an Imperial Navy dress uniform. Rask couldn't discern much else from the man, cloaked as he was in his coat. Young, but hardened beyond his years. He'd seen that look all too many times on the faces of clones in the late days of the war. Rask rested the heel of his hand on his blaster's grip casually, like a swordsman might place a hand on the hilt of their weapon when at rest. So relaxed that it did not seem a threat, only where his hand might naturally fall. Judging from the man's severe expression, Rask figured he was about to get chewed out for something, at which Rask knew he would laugh.

Instead, the man asked for directions.

Rask chuckled and tipped his hat to the man. He thought the man might have been drinking at first, but he looked as sober as a Jedi. "Well captain, I think they call this place Keldabe, last time I checked. Refugee district, maybe. You want specifics, best ask my friend Ms. O’Royal here. She'll know better than me."

His words were amiable enough, friendly even, but there was just a hint of distain behind Rask's sharp eyes. Barely perceptible, but there. Rask never had much love for those of the Renkar Imperium. They were a furtive, slavish people to him, all serving some tyrant whose interests were not their own. Everything the Rim was not. The man before him looked like an officer as well. Rask didn't care much for officers.

B1 after B1 stretched across the racking in front of her, it had taken Alanna over an hour to find and fix the single dislodged cable in the 3PO unit. And now she was on to the next order, several B1 droids brought in for Nanna to be reprogrammed as DishWashers. Even for a lady she cared very much for, the order was annoying, Alanna hated working on B1s, something fierce. They were built cheap and compact, fitting everything they could into the chest or head, but it was so densely packed with wires and plates that getting at one thing often necessitated taking three or more other components out. Add into it that these ones were basically rebuilt from scratch by Bannermen who had no clue what they were doing, after said Bannermen had blown them up in the first place. And this project was going to be a stressful one. And maybe if Nanna's Grandson would stop flirting with Alanna every time he came into the shop and actually listened to her, he might stop blowing them up so much if he wanted to give them as a gift to his grandmother.

Do what you enjoy and you'll never work a day in your life… rubbish. Alanna thought to herself as she popped the chest plate on the first B1. Before she got to work she pressed a button on her wrist pad and music began flowing from various speakers in the ceiling of the shop. Alanna didn't pay attention to it much, it was just background noise that helped her concentrate, the radio today seemed to be playing something new from Flo'Rence & The Droid, not that Alanna could tell you what the song was called. Another hour passed and Alanna was so engrossed in her work that she didn't even notice another presence enter her shop, she pulled her head out of the torso of the last B1 and wiped her oil covered hands on her overalls before turning towards the door, jumping in shock at the… Tusken? Standing there. Why was there anyone coming in today? More importantly, why was a Sand Person in her shop? And why did it seem like he was talking to her?

Pressing the music button on her wrist pad the music turned off. "Uhhhhh… sorry pal, if you're after an order we're not really open today… ummm… do you… understand me?"

He stared for a moment, processing the fact that…well, the shop had been noisy enough that she must have not heard him come in or what he’d said. For that matter, she probably hadn’t noticed the other formalities. Snorting inwardly at her surprise, and for that matter at her lack of awareness, something which…well, he wasn’t quite sure how she’d managed on Mandalore or really on any world. For that matter…the woman didn’t seem Mandalorian, either, but he hadn’t the experience to know who was and who wasn’t such. She definitely didn’t wear the armor. Interesting.

But she had said they weren’t open…though that would probably be ‘open for selling’. That wasn’t why he was there, and she did seem to be working on a number of projects. In the order of Orh’ruruur’s eyes he could see droids in various states of repair, many of the models he recognized from before. Perhaps she needed a hand…hopefully. In any case, of course there was the question of what in the dunes he was to do. Perhaps the simplest was the best, and the Tusken decided that if anything that was doing the act again.

”Yes, I understand you. Good morning. My name is Orh’ruruur.” With the ‘good morning’, he gave a slight bow. Considering it for a moment, the young Tusken added, ”You are one of the few open mechanic shops...I would normally work with Chor, or Pulu, but they are both drunk and closed. I was…hoping to help? To learn how to fix.”

The Tusken spoke? The Tusken spoke… Basic, well basic with a translator but Basic nonetheless. Alanna had had very few encounters with Sand People in her life, the few times she had travelled to Tatooine for a contract she had, had Sable with her, Sable who spoke Tusken. This was an altogether different experience to that. He? She guessed it was a He anyway. He spoke Basic, He was seemingly polite and he was looking for… work. Well this certainly wasn't the way Alanna *thought* her day was going to go.

"Uhhhh, work? You're looking for… work?" Alanna said, standing a bit straighter but still with a perplexed look on her face.

He held up a hand defensively, almost reflexively without a thought. Of course, those would be the things that might concern such a ship owner, the very concept of a Tusken…or really any being, Orh’ruruur supposed, asking for work. They would want to know the cost of such, the trade of it, just as was the trade with the smugglers before. ”You don’t have to pay me. I just…want hands-on experience in fixing. Made beings isn’t something I would want, no, but…similar pieces to speeders, yes? Or parts of starships.”

The Tusken paused, considering that…he may want to explain further, as it were, unless she dismissed him so offhandedly as others had before. ”They say teachers and rooms, data-slates…that is how you learn, but I study with my hands.”

Alanna eyed the Tusken suspiciously, her first instinct was, as always, Hutt. The word screamed around her head like a Star Fighter. But a Tusken wouldn't work for a Hutt right? "Hmmmm. OK, humour me if you will. Two questions; You mentioned some other names so what experience do you have? And secondly, how long are you sticking around for? Forgive me if I seem horribly ignorant but I didn't think Tuskens settled anywhere for too long."

”Speeder bike mechanics. They helped me…with my swoop, a bit. Repulsorlift engines, wiring, that.” He pronounced some words- speeder bike, swoop, repulsorlift -with a sudden, severe difference, almost as though he was parroting a technical manual which, Orh’ruruur supposed, he in fact was. The Tusken had taken severe steps to ensure that such technical words he knew and knew absolutely, which was unsurprising considering his focus upon that field. There was nothing he disliked more than not understanding what another was saying in the midst of a discussion. He barely noticed her suspicion, it seemed so normal.

Swallowing at her second half of the question, he cocked his head amid his answer. ”A month or so. I’m…not exactly settled here. Just learning, before I bring it back.”

A month or so? Alanna could work with that. Besides she'd just keep Sable close at hand until he was gone. It had taken her over six months to feel comfortable having Vex and Vax around the shop and they were recommended by Nanna. "Alright sure, I can respect having the balls to walk into a strangers shop and ask for work. In terms of payment, I don't want you to go empty handed. I could pay you on commision at least. Again I'm probably horribly ignorant at this but, are credits OK? Or would you prefer something else?”

Respect having the balls to walk into a strangers shop. He wasn’t entirely certain on the meaning of the phrase, though something indicated it was brave enough. At least that was good. That she was willing to pay was…also good. Knowledge was good, but knowledge and credits was even better. He smiled halfway under his mask, nodding slightly at the idea. Horribly ignorant at this, truly so. It was almost funny. That he wasn’t entirely familiar with the concept of ‘on commision’ was not something the Tusken was exceptionally eager to express. Whatever he was paid, he was paid, that much was enough in his view. ”Thank you, credits are fine. The spaceport charges…notably for ‘berthing’.”

Alanna nodded at the Spaceport comment. "mmm. I swear they put the charges up whenever the bosses want a new speeder… Anyway, before I set you loose on something, do you have any questions? I'm Alanna by the way, figure I should get that out, I own this place. There are a couple others who work here but if you stay you'll meet them later. I'm going to apologise now because I speak two languages and Tusken isn't one of them. Is there another name I could call you? Or a shortened one perhaps? Because there's no way I can pronounce your full name.”

Alanna. It was a name, he supposed, and had little thought besides on it as the last comment drew far more attention in his inward thoughts. A shorter name? He’d never considered that. Then again, Chor and Pulu had simply called him as he was, Tusken, and that had never been confusing for another. He snorted briefly at the concept. ”Just ‘Tusken’ is fine. It will be…rare for that to mean another. If you dislike that…well, I am not sure. It would be ‘of your making’.” He paused to consider any questions he might have, anything which might present difficulties here or there. No, there didn’t seem to be any. As the Tusken spoke his pronouncement of the name almost sounded like two words, a disjoined thing. ”I do not think I have any questions, Alanna.”

Hmmm, Tusken if he was comfortable with it then fair enough, she didn't like being called Twi’Lek but it was what it was. "Ok well… that was easy… uhhh. You said you had experience on speeders and bikes right? There's one in the corner over there. She pointed to the white and red striped bike over the oil pit in the back corner of the shop. "I hate working on those things and can't figure out why the repulsor lift isn't working. Take a look, if you can figure it out you can stick around."

Bowing briefly, he set off to the white-and-red speeder bike. The repulsorlift, the repulsorlift…it was mounted in the usual place, aft on the bike, and the Tusken set himself down low to the ground to try and diagnose the specific problem whether it be some miswired section or improperly installed component. They all seemed to have a generally similar layout, and soon enough Orh’ruruur found himself humming away.

"Well captain, I think they call this place Keldabe, last time I checked. Refugee district, maybe. You want specifics, best ask my friend Ms. O’Royal here. She'll know better than me."

Lorn felt a flare of anger as the tall sheriff called him captain, but quickly subdued any sign of that. It would do him little good to treat his would-be guides like those he has command over. At this point Lorn would put up with quite a bit more than normal if it meant he would no longer be lost in this unfamiliar city. He didn’t know how long he could be gone before his babysitters would notice and report it to high command. At this rate he might be banished to a desk job if he kept upsetting the admiralty.

His eyes were drawn to the hand resting on the cowboy’s blaster and felt it would probably be best to diffuse the situation somewhat. Gunned down in the street by a twitchy trigger finger was not the way Lorn planned to go out. Lorn stretched his hands out to his side in the form of a simple shrug that also happened to reveal he carried no weapons beneath the coat.

“I would sure hope I was still in Keldabe, or else I would have a lot more to worry about than being late to a diplomat’s dinner party.” Lorn let out a very muted chuckle before continuing. “I rode in the Empress’ escort, so I have had little chance to get a bearing on the city. I stepped out for some air and at some point every stall began to blend together.”

Lorn could sense some steeliness in the tall man’s eyes, but not outright hostility. At least this told Lorn the man wasn’t CIS sympathizer, because then he probably would have already been shot. The Vice Admiral turned to look at the previously mentioned friend of the cowboy and reached out a gloved hand.

“A pleasure to meet you. I am Lorn Alcyorr, an attaché to the Empress while here on Mandalore. Are you able to save me from my predicament?”

---

Tybren | Mandalore | Keldabe, Administrative District

---

"Staabi!"

"Payt!!"

The forest of upturned lightsaber blades moved in time to his bellowed commands.

"Laa-MYC!"

His young charges brought their sabers up in a high guard and held that position, most grasping the silvery hilts as warily as if they were handling a live, spitting rawl. Tybren of Clan Kelborn slowly circled the group of around twenty young Jedi, making note of who held to the form and who began to waver. He darted in and out between them, here using his boot to widen the planted feet of a Togruta with stubby montrals and there gently but firmly rotating the shoulders of a Rodian that barely came up to the shoulders of the next shortest of her peers. At one point, noticing a more immediate problem, Tybren's arm flashed out, his beskar-clad arm catching a student's glowing blade as it dipped precariously out of guard position towards the elbow of the next one in line. He flashed that one a particularly frosty look.

"A properly prepared defense can save your life. A shoddy one can snuff it out."

His Jedi colleagues would call these Padawans, but most barely looked it. They had only been allowed to construct lightsabers a week or so back, and it was a wonder that they hadn't killed themselves with the things a dozen times already. Tybren called them cubs; strip away the pomp and ceremony, the precious Jedi mysticism, and that's what they were.

He was damn proud of them.

Most had already mastered the basics. Positioning, posture, attention. The little incident with the attempted arm amputation had drawn the looks of the two cubs that were involved, but the rest continued staring forward, eyes boring into the imaginary enemy in front of them. They may have just been Jedi cubs now, but he would make Mandalorians out of them. He waded his way out from amidst his students and began to circle around to the front of the room, where a wide transparisteel viewport ran from one edge of the wall to the other, providing an excellent view of Keldabe's central Administrative District. Wide lanes of beautifully paved streets carved through thickets of glimmering metal cityscape. Far down below the tower of the city's Jedi Embassy, the ever-growing crowds continued to fill the avenues in anticipation of the Founding Day festivities. As Tybren approached his customary place in front of the viewport, another cub on the edge of the group caught his eye. Seemingly staring forward like the rest, the young human boy was, in actuality, craning his neck to take in the sights of the celebration below.

As he passed, Tybren hooked the tip of his boot behind both of the boy's rather regrettably closely-planted feet, and swept forward at a low angle. At the same time, he folded his hand over the smaller one gripping the active lightsaber, thumbed the activation switch, and neatly plucked the wilting blade from the cub's grasp. He turned to face the daydreamer just as he landed with a startled cry, harmlessly coming to rest on his cloth-swaddled backside. Tybren rapped the pommel of the deactivated lightsaber against the back of his gauntlet as he looked deeply into the slightly watery eyes, the sharp ping of the sound ringing across the classroom. The other cubs could no longer resist the temptation to look. He could hear the whisper of their robes as they shifted to gaze at their fellow student on the ground, his ears and neck beginning to turn crimson.

"Distraction invites catastrophe."

After holding his gaze towards the cub evenly for a few heartbeats, Tybren bent down, offering a hand to help him back to his feet. He valiantly attempted to ignore the dull ache that spread through his own knees as he did so. A slow smile blossomed on Tybren's face as he saw the firm set to his young charge's jaw, the fire brimming in those eyes that had been barely squeezing away tears just a few seconds ago. This one would not make the same mistake again.

He ruffled the young one's hair before resuming his walk up to the front of the room. Some of the wordless tension that filled the space bled away almost immediately, and the cubs resumed their focus as he turned back to face the whole lot of them. He gave the command to drop, and immediately most deactivated their sabers, shaking the strain and soreness out of their muscles. Small whispers of anticipation began to fill the previously silent classroom. Tybren fell into a military parade rest, hands behind his back.

"As I'm sure all of you know, the celebrations for Founding Day begin today."

The whispers grew in volume. Some of the cubs at the back began to visibly squirm in excitement.

"Beings of all kinds, from all over the Galaxy, have come to see the sights of our city. To get a taste of our way of life. Down there are countless wonders to go out and see and feel and taste. So. Of course..."

He was pretty sure some were holding their breath.

"You're all to report immediately to your Masters for additional duties."

Immediate gasps and noises of despair.

"If your Masters decide it's okay to turn you loose on the city after that, then be my guest. But that's not my responsibility. Dismissed."

He couldn't hold in the amused chuckle any longer as the murmuring students filed out of the three doors at the back of the classroom, soon to be off running in a hundred different directions to track down their Masters for chores, or meditation, or some other Jedi nonsense. In another week they'd be back here again to try their hand at real sparring for the first time. He would be wearing more armor than just gauntlets for that one. As their footfalls slowly faded away, so did his mirth. He turned to look down at the city again with a heavy sigh. In a handful of hours, he would no doubt be called up to stand with his Jedi fellows as diplomats from the other Galactic powers blathered at each other at length for the better part of the day. He turned away from the viewport, rolling stiff shoulders as he set out towards his quarters. Might as well make something of his freedom while he had it.

---

Now clad head to toe in his beskar, Tybren carefully picked his way through familiar streets teeming with strangers. A trio of Quarren busily marched past, taking up most of the lane and bowling over a few other passersby as they headed back towards the spaceport for some unknown purpose. He noted with some amusement that their reckless pace suddenly became quite accommodating whenever they stopped to give a wide berth to any other armored Mandalorians that happened to be making their way through the crowds. Clones in their customary white armor stood back near the walls, keeping the peace and directing the noticeably confused offworlders around. As he made his way further away from the heart of the city towards the more mercantile outer steads, Tybren scanned the glowing signs to see if anything pricked the interest of his rumbling stomach.

A sudden realization and a spark of familiarity brought him closer to one of the signs. Yes, he could see it now - a pulsing yellow and pink amalgamation with half of the letters missing. A walk-up ordering station was cut into the side of the building facing the street, with a massive gray-furred Gotal hanging halfway over the counter, shouting descriptions of food and accompanying prices in the direction of the passersby.

"Happy Founding Day, Jesca. Scare away any good customers today?"

The Gotal paused mid-shout, doing a double take at the armed Mandalorian that had somehow snuck up on him in the middle of a line of customers.

"What - I - well, if it ain't the Politician himself!! Tybren, my friend! What brings ya all the way down here to see us little folk? Good ta see ya, of course." Jesca wiped his grease-stained forearms on his apron and placed a massive, taloned hand on Tybren's shoulder for a moment.

It had been months... maybe even years since he'd been at this counter, but the shaggy restaurateur somehow never managed to forget a face, or a good turn.

"Needed some fresh air. Figured I'd come see if you'd gotten run out of town yet." Tybren popped the seal on his helmet and swept it off, putting it under his arm as he reached the front of the counter.

"Despite my best efforts, no!" Jesca leaned in conspiratorially, which made little different as his voice stayed the same volume. "My prices haven't gone up in ten years! I keep cookin', they keep buyin'." He popped back up and clapped his hands together. "So! What can I get ya?"

"Whatever you have on special for the day." Tybren waved a hand dismissively, suddenly too tired for that particular problem. "I'm not picky."

"Yeah? Well, be wary what you ask for, heh." The Gotal whirled around at that, thick arms scooping up a bowl, shaking, and then whisking in a lightning quick, well-practiced motion. After only a minute or two, a greasy bowl filled with cyan-colored noodles swimming in a much murkier blue broth thudded into the counter in front of the Mandalorian. "There we go! Got plenty of your precious Mando spices in that one. That'll be five credits."

Tybren nodded and dropped the requested amount on the counter, where it was quickly scooped up by the massive furred hand. An awkward moment lingered. The Gotal seemed about to say something more, his wide smile faltering somewhat as memories of darker times, an unhappy meeting of two souls escaping different burning worlds, might have flickered between them. Tybren turned to glance at the waiting customers behind him, and when he looked back, the moment had passed, the Gotal's amiable face the same as it had ever been.

"...well, I'll see you around, Jes. Take care. Watch out for the health inspector!" Tybren scooped up his food and helmet and cut through the crowd away from the counter, as if dodging Jesca's answering taunts. Miraculously, he found a bench with an open spot. He squeezed his way there and sat down, the strangers on the other end making way a bit for the armed and armored Mandalorian that was suddenly encroaching on their space. Lifting a heaping spoonful of noodles to his mouth as he looked around, Tybren took an exploratory bite. And immediately fought the urge to choke. Spicy. Even for him. He looked down, carefully inspecting the murky broth. A close look confirmed the presence of massive amounts of spice, dark grains swirling amidst the noodles in enough quantity to make a Gamorrean's eyes water. His head snapped up to the restaurant counter, where he caught the Gotal studying him over the passing heads of the crowd. The furred face suddenly tipped back in raucous laughter. Grunting in toothless frustration, Tybren threw out the rudest gesture he could think of at the moment in that direction, then resigned himself to eating the stuff, bite by bite.

"The Vanguard report in?" Came a a calm, even tone from the rear of the Liberator's Bridge. The voice, though not raised, was projected easily by a helmet's onboard speakers to reach the ears of the man standing over the control pit of the massive ship. As the question was asked, the man turned back towards the approaching figure. A large twi'lek woman, dressed fully in midnight-black Beskar with an E-Web strapped onto her back. As she approached, she saw a small smile and nod appear on his features as an early response to her question. "Ah, yes. Vanguard reports that the ships holding orbit," Wullf Yularen said in his typical refined tone, gesturing on the holographic display towards a grouping of ships holding position above the planet. "Appear to be the reported... terrorists, I believe the CIS is calling them. Triumph reports picking up scans of shuttles and the like heading down to planet, estimated landing was here." He said, gesturing again towards the projector showing a line coming from a Consular-Class marked as the Triumph. The line went down towards the planet, where further analysis showed what seemed a CIS Outpost of sorts. "The Vanguard should be coming within range of our terrorists there within a minute. Shall we attempt to hail our friends before shots get fired?" He asked, earning a simple nod from the Twi'lek as she reached up to remove her helmet. Long, crimson lekku fell free as she moved her helmet away. The lethan's crimson skin was covered in black tattoos, and her orange-tinged eyes.

"I'll do the talking, if you don't mind Admiral." Talik said firmly, offering a friendly smile as the man nodded back with a small chuckle. "As always, ma'am." He said as he stepped away and started issuing orders to bring the Liberator in towards the planet. Talik turned back towards the Holoprojector and took a couple of steps back to ensure she was properly in frame. The twi'lek's lekku twitched lightly as she allowed her eyes to drift close, taking a moment to compose herself as the massive ship rumbled as its powerful engines turned it in the direction of the vanguard ships. She sent a silent mental message to her sister, as she always did before going into combat, hoping that somehow Kada would feel her touch across the galaxy... just in case this battle were to be her last. Yet, she soon closed those emotions off from her mind and forced her eyes open once more. The nervous twitching of her lekku died down instantly to be replaced with a cool confidence, just as the holoprojector sprang suddenly to life. Before her, Talik saw the figure of a Mon Cala, seeming to study her carefully with a wide-eyed look.

"This is Talik Gida, aboard the Liberator. We're inbound towards Teth as we speak, you should see our first three ships coming already." She said softly, yet firmly, and continued before giving the Mon Cala a chance to respond.
"Intel indicated that the CIS was going up against a group of terrorists, as they're apparently labeling you, and we thought we'd offer our aid." Talik said with a small, confident grin appearing on her features as she finally gave the Mon Cala a chance to respond. As she did, she made a slight gesture towards the Admiral and watched from the corner of her eye as he issued orders to start spooling the Hyperdrive.

"Copy that, Liberator. We did not expect the Firith Tar'don in this sector, but would welcome the assistance. Tagging your ships with friendly IFF now." The Mon Cala said, earning a raised eyebrow from Talik.

Starting to get recognized, Tali, means we're doing something right. She thought to herself, even as she listened in while the Mon Cala gave a quick briefing on the situation on the ground. Leaving just enough details out of the way for caution's sake. "The Liberator is jumping in now," Talik said, as the Lucrehulk drifted out from behind one of the planets moon's to complete a microjump to their target. Immediately, Talik watched nearby screens light up with activity as friendly and hostile signatures were marked. Intelligence came streaming in from the sensors, and comms lit up as the vanguard took up positions around the newly-arrived Liberator. "We're here, and I've got some interesting details lighting up on scans. I will be heading groundside, and handing over command of my fleet to Admiral Yularen here," Talik said as she gestured towards the Admiral who had already returned from issuing orders. "He'll be your contact from here."

The Mon Cala then turned and talked into a commlink for a few moments, then turned back towards Talik and spoke once again. "Our Captain, Vrokro Olkzar, is groundside. Allow me to patch you through to him." With a curt nod, Talik switched the call to audio comms as she slipped her helmet back on. Turning immediately and heading towards the hangar where she knew Sumari and Tivva were already waiting aboard a shuttle. A quick mute of the comms was made as she looked over her shoulder towards Yularen. "Admiral, keep me advised of any changes in the ground situation." She said, hearing his affirmation as she then un-muted herself on comms. While waiting for the Mon Cala to do whatever it was they needed to do.

Moments later, Talik was climbing into the dropship alongside her two squad mates and a another squad of rebel soldiers. The doors slammed shut, and the LAAT immediately shuttered as it lifted off. At the same moment, Talik got a notification of the connection to Olkzar being made on comms.

"Captain Olkzar, this is Talik Gida of the Firith Tar'don. Heard you could use a hand down there, so be advised of friendlies inbound. Where do you want us?" She asked, waiting for his response.

Should I even be here? Talnel thought as he sat there in a corner of a cantina while a brawl was happening before him. One of the few not involving themselves in the brawl. It's the last place he wants to be in right now, and perhaps coming to this world is a bad idea. True, he is using his force stealth right now, so no force user could detect him, but there is a reason why he has come to this world. A vision he had, but it was murky at beat, and the only clear thing he could gather from it was that he had to be at Keldabe during the anniversary. But why he had to do this remains to be seen. Still, he felt like the vision was important despite the danger.

But now, he is starting to lose confidence in this vision. Why here? Why does he need to be in the capital of the Mandalore Republic, in Keldabe, and during the anniversary? If only the vision was more clear and not so murky.

Either way, Talnel had had enough of the violence in the cantina and was annoyed that one of the Imperials had shot the door controls. Locking the door in place made getting out even harder. So after seeing an opening to get to the cantina's bar where the bartender should be, he took it. Quickly leaving his spot in the cantina and making his way through the chaotic brawl to the bartender. Who was hiding behind the bar, and Talnel after jumping over the counter and landed near the bartender. He kneeled down and started talking to the bartender as calmly as he could. "Is there another way out of here?"

"Yes, there is a way out back through that door." The bartender pointed to a door behind him.

"Thanks, and... good luck with the cantina." Then he quickly went through the door and after going through the kitchen and out a back door. Did Talnel feel relief as he was out of that chaos. Even in the capital of the Mandalore Republic, things can still get quite out of control. Maybe it is a Mandalorian thing, or maybe with the anniversary drawing different groups here, things were bound to get out of control.

But that soon left Talnel's mind as he thought of what to do now. He was now in an alleyway, and his vision still weighed on his mind. What is he supposed to do, or why should he be here? He could only sigh at the thought and chose to leave the alleyway. Now, without a clear goal, Talnel chose to wander the city and, after walking back to the entrance of the cantina to get his bearings. Talnel could sense the presence of another force user as he turned the corner.

Concerned, but he hid it well. Talnel looked around and found that the force user was a human man with a woman and what looked like an imperial. He did not look like a jedi or imperial or like a force user he had heard about. He looked like someone from the Outer Rim. But not wanting to draw attention to himself, Talnel chose to leave the scene. However, he was curious about the force user but knew not to ask questions about that while he was here. Time is, however, to see why his vision has brought him here. If he can, that is.

Cel would take in the bright day as she looked around and heard the scream of engines above as more ships raced through the sky. She looked at the two tuskens that Rask pointed out, a tilted head as she watched them. What in the world could tuskens be doing on mandalore? They are far from their home of Tattooine.

Cel would grab her book out of habit and hold it in her hand as if it were her shield to the rest of the world. She began reading from it again for just a moment until she heard Rask speak to her. "Well, I'll do my best to help you find him. Also, remember trouble doesn't find me, I just watch as t-" she was cut off as a crash, a blaster, from behind her, it was enough to make her jump and scream as she jumped behind the Marshal as she grabbed onto his arms. You knew fighting was going on, why would you have stuck here in this place?! That's ridiculous, sloppy, and dumb, imperfect and needs work.

She turned around to look at the imperial talking to them once her brain caught up with analyzing the danger of herself. And you screamed, how pathetic. she thought to herself. Cel finally chimed into the conversation going on her eyes moving to the Imperial sticking his hand out. Her eyes moved up and down as she analyzed him. Less than 5% chance of hostility, I should be okay. She placed her hand into his and shook it gently. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Vice Admiral. The name is Cel. I work with the Department of Transportation, I am sure I can help you. I've already memorized all but 33% of the streets in all of Mandalore and their crossing sections, and 98% of all streets and crossing sections here on Keldabe. So I'm sure wherever you want to go I can assist with." She released his hand as she took a step back to stand next to Rask, You really do come in handy Marshal, it is much easier for me to remain calm when I have someone so tall next to me, gives me a solid amount of time to analyze and determine before I have to act. At least they usually react and interact with him first, he is the more imposing person. Maybe... he's worth keeping around a bit. He was decently quick on the draw, given the frustration on his face shows he was not happy with himself. Refocus Cel! This imperial wants your help, this is a perfect chance. She would stand there giving an innocent smile as she held her book in her hand and slowly put it away as to try and show that she was focused on the conversation at hand.

---

“Get down”

“Watch the left flank!”

“We’re pinned down!”

“We need medics over here now!”

“Artillery!”

Karthus jolted awake from his dream breathing a bit heavier than usual. His cold metallic hand reached up to the side of his face. He flinched slightly from the sudden coldness of metal against the scarred flesh. His eyes wandered around the empty dark room for a moment before he felt his muscles finally begin to relax. He realized any further attempt at sleep would be pointless so he resigned himself to waking up much earlier than necessary yet again.

Fully standing from his bed he walked towards the small bathroom and began splashing water on his face. Pulling the towel across his face he looked at his own reflection staring back. His gaze tracked from his face to his metal and back up to wear the prosthetic arm fused with the skin on his chest. Pushing away from the sink he turned to the small medical case hanging on the wall containing his mask. Taking one last breath he placed the mask over his face feeling it lock into place. He exhaled the deep breath he had taken and took another long slow breath as the rebreather kicked in and his lungs filled with oxygen.

Walking back into the room he donned his signature armor, taking care to ensure everything was secured properly and looked as it should. He lifted his hand towards his nightstand pulling the saber staff that had been resting just above it into his palm. Turning it over in his hand Karthus inspected the weapon for a moment until he was staffed and placed it on his back. Gazing at the clock he estimated it wouldn’t take long before they arrived above Mandalore and the festival began.

He wondered what the journey would entail for him and the other imperials present. He knew the empress and other nobles were excited to show off the new imperials as well as the other guardians of the empire himself included. He hoped the new imperials wouldn't make a fool of themselves and their empire, but he had a feeling that was wishful thinking at best.

---

---

Karthus' head shot to the sky out of reflex as the starfighters rocketed overhead banking around the rooftops of the various skyscrapers in the city. He let his muscles relax, taking a moment to watch this small portion of the race. It irritated him slightly seeing the new imperial pilot trailing behind as they struggled to keep up with the older more experienced. Karthus couldn't say that he was surprised however, age and experience often did topple youth and energy in such competitions.
Regardless Karthus continued to make his way down the polished stone steps of the palace taking in the sights. The festivities were quite the site to behold with stalls and people filling the streets. People from all over the galaxy seemed to have made the journey to Mandalore for the celebration. It was truly a first to see “representatives” from just about every faction in the galaxy present in one city all playing nice. Or at least as nice as alcohol and differing opinions would allow. Lucky though the Mandalorian's seemed to have a tight control on any disturbances that started to arise.

The Mandalorian's were a curious culture that had gone through drastic changes all in a single generation's time, or at least as he was told that is. If he was honest Karthus had mixed feelings about the Mandalorian's. On the one hand they did manage to produce possibly the greatest warriors the galaxy had ever seen aside from the Jedi and Sith of old legends. Yet now they seemed to be cowards hiding behind a treaty in their own corner of the galaxy. It was this dichotomy that served to displease Karthus the most. To have such strength and not use it was something he believed was a grave sin.

Still lost in his own thoughts about the Mandalorian's and the Jedi of this republic, Karthus wandered aimlessly through the various streets of crowded people. Even with the variety of people and species present for the celebration, Karthus still managed to stand out amongst them. He had grown accustomed to it; however, the mask and robotic arm did little to give off a welcoming visage.

Karthus was pulled from his thoughts feeling a thud against his leg. Feeling something cold against his leg he looked down seeing a small child on the ground staring sadly at an empty cup beside her. Looking at his leg he saw what he assumed was once the contents of the girls cup plastered all over his pant leg. Turning his face back to the girl who was now on the verge of tears he quickly bent down doing his best to show he was smiling with the revealed half of his face.

“I’m so sorry I must have gotten in your way didn’t I? Please forgive my clumsiness.” He said to the small child in a calm voice reaching into a small pouch on his armor. Grabbing a handful of credits he dropped them in the child’s hand. “Here go buy yourself two of whatever treat I made you drop.” Giving the girl a pat on the head Karthus stood from his crouching stance and continued his walk down the street.

“Thank you mister scary man!” the little girl called out once she had stood up and looked at the credits in awe. Karthus only raised his hand signaling he had heard her before disappearing in the crowd that resumed its liveliness.

Teth // Baxel Sector // Separatist Space

Vorkro swore as fire continued to rain past him, he peered around his cover, watching as the fire continued to rain against the facility's shields from his two cruisers. At the center of the compound, there was a tall spire, that looked reminiscent of a command spire. It explained a lot, whichever Separatist scientist ran this facility obviously had access to some top-level equipment. He grumbled to himself. Last time he took a job from a Mandalorian with very little intel. "Mohira!?" He shouted over the din and the fire. He flinched slightly as there was a thunk which turned out to be nothing more than her landing beside him.

"Vorkro."

"What exactly did you say was in this lab?"

"I didn't." Vorkro swung out behind cover and fired a couple of shot at approaching droids.

"Do you feel like sharing now?"

"Not really." He groaned and rolled his eyes, tapping his wrist comm before leveling his rifle, firing it as best he could with one arm.

"I want continuous fire on those shields. They can't hold indefinitely. We need to take out that artillery before we can move any closer."

Before he could reposition himself his comm flashed at an incoming message from his XO.

"Captain. Ships are friendly, patching through now." Vorkro looked at Mohira with a raised eyebrow, she merely shrugged before she once more charged head-first into the fray. Literally, when she headbutted a nearby B1 Battle droid.

"Captain Olkzar, this is Talik Gida of the Firith Tar'don. Heard you could use a hand down there, so be advised of friendlies inbound. Where do you want us?"

"You're a bit lost Miss Gida-" an explosion rocked in the background. "-Ryloth is a few sectors away. Though I won't say no to the help-" Vorkro grunted from exertion as he twisted his staff around as he heard a Battledroid approaching him round the tree. Even with the shield under constant fire these droids still seemed to be popping up as if from out of the ground. He dropped both his arms as he ducked below a clumsy lunge from another droid, swinging upwards in a left-right motion he brought the active end of the staff against a droids chest. Pushing it off its feet into a nearby clump. Ducking under another he let loose a neat cluster of blaster shots into its chest.

He could have sworn when he saw a group of droids approaching however they were soon cut down in a hail of blaster bolts. "My cruisers are laying down cover fire to the planetary north of the facility. If you swing in low to the south you may get by unaccosted and undetected."

Despite the festivities of Founding Day, a city the size of Keldabe never truly stopped. Like a vast, unending, machine it churned ever onwards regardless of what happened around it. Warehouse 4524 was part of said machine; goods for various businesses in this sector moved endlessly through conveyor systems while droids, mostly repurposed B1s lifted items from the belts to load them elsewhere. Normally there were at least a few organics doing maintenance or simply keeping an eye on the simplistic B1s, but today W4524 was left to the machines…in theory.

Amidst the sounds of the warehouse, two figures stood, watching the machines, but careful to keep out of their way. “How is your search?” “No better than yours I’m guessing. I followed up on that lead we acquired last month, but the trails went cold. You?” “No better on the fugitive, but I did see something else, a ship landing in a private dock; it’s not part of our mission, but he’s a known enemy to the Order.”

The first speaker reached into his robes and pulled out a holorecorder and started playback. The short clip showed a VT-49, or one of its copies, coming into land. “Are you sure it’s him? They’re a common enough ship.” The second figure asked. “I had the same thought, but the dock is publicly listed and he rented it in his own name; also I was quick enough to get eyes on the door as he left.” Another holo played, showing a figure stepping out of the pad access and looking about before walking off. “Time for you to pay for your crimes…” The second man said, staring at the now still image of one Elam El-Rud, while his companion nodded.

---

Elam disposed of his food and drink containers, and was about to reorient himself to see if he could find the booth that Clan Drahl usually set up in Keldabe during Founding Day, when his comm chipped at him. Putting his helmet on for privacy, he stepped off to the side and raised an eyebrow at the caller ID; it was an older contact he hadn’t heard from in a while, voice only.

”Mister Xim? Been awhile.” “It has, I know we talked about you helping me, but things came up too fast and had to move before I could comm you.” ”Understood, what can I do for you?” “I’m on Mandalore and need a hand; the smugglers that got me here tried to cross me but I got free; problem is they’re still mad.” ”Okay, since you’re comming me and don’t sound freaked I assume you’re secure?” “Yes” Good, give me your location and I’ll cover you; I have contacts that can smooth over your entry and make you official. “Really? Perfect. I’m hiding in a droid run warehouse…um…W4524.” ”Alright, hold position I’ll be there soon.”
-
Being only a few blocks away, Elam made it to W4524 in short order. Hopping the perimeter fence was a trivial task, as was gaining access to the building itself. Once inside he reached out with the Force, trying to sense any others, but it was challenging; partially because of the simple fact that a major city held so much life and because he was not the best at those sorts of techniques. Moving deeper, he still felt nothing. ”Mister Xim?” He called out cautiously. “Not quite, though the heretic did prove useful.” A voice behind him sneered. Whipping about, he saw a knight of the Argent Order step into view…just as he heard someone else land from the rafters behind him. Well done idiot, literally walked into that one.

Shifting so he could see both ambushers, he drew his sabre at the same time as the two Argent, the ruby light against their brilliant whites. Now that he could sense them, they both felt like they could challenge him so he wasn’t looking forward to a two on one. “For aiding enemies of the Order, killing members of the Order and profaning the Light with your existence, you are sentenced to die.” In the holonovel version, this is where Elam would snap of so catchy one-liner, instead with his free hand he yanked a nearby B1 at one of the Argent before taking off as fast as he could manage, aiming to escape via one of the high mounted windows; and to be fair he did make it…but not the way he’d intended. As he lept, a flurry of boxes and a droid or three slammed into him, driving him through the window and sending him sprawling as he landed outside, the two Argent hot on his heels.

Talnel, after aimlessly wandering the streets of the city for some time. He had decided to move away from the busy crowds and to a more quiet place. Near some warehouses since he is not used to being around this many people before. True Tund’s population was big but never were the streets this crowded. He needed a break, and he started to think again about his vision. Why was the vision so unclear and what is he supposed to be looking for? He thought, annoyed at his situation.

But as he sighed and started to lean up against the fence of a warehouse to relax for a bit. Talnel heard the sound of glass breaking and a loud thud behind him. Talnel quickly turned around with his hand on his blaster. Seeing a man on the ground and two people in the background close behind. He can sense them, all three were force users, and it looks like his day just got more exciting. ”What in the blasts is going on here?”

Well done idiot… Elam thought to himself, as he leapt to his feet, his cybernetics and Force powers suppressing the pain of the rather ungraceful landing. Getting upright, just as the two Argent landed, after following Elam much more gracefully out the window, he heard a new voice. His senses now all spun up because of the attack, he could sort both the Argent and the newcomer out from the background Force ‘noise’ of the rest of the city. ”Argie bantha poodoo.” He said. ”Seems they don’t like me.”

The lead Argent spotted the other man, pointing to him with his lightsaber, while addressing his companion. “No witnesses, for the Order.” “For the Order and the Light.” The other replied, advancing on Talnel.

”Sorry about this,” Elam said ruefully to his new ‘friend’ as he readied to face his opponent. ”I’ll owe you a drink after this.”

Argent? Talnel had heard of them, and it looks like he has no choice but to fight if he wants to live. Granted, he could try to flee, but leaving his new friend to die in the process and since these are Argent. Then he should probably help the man, and in either case. He is probably going to have to use the force and while he would rather not to… but again little choice in the matter. Talnel was quick to make up his mind.

So Talnel jumped the fence and drew his blaster. He knew that the Argent could not sense that he was a force user since he has been using force stealth since coming to the planet, so maybe he could use that to his advantage.

“I will make this quick for your sake.” The Argent said to him as he started charging towards him with lightsaber in hand.

Talnel held down the trigger for his blaster, charging it for a stronger shot, and waited until the Argent got close enough. When the Argent was about to swing at him. Talnel used force blind on him, and a sudden burst of force energy erupted in the Argent’s face and the Argent was blinded.

“What did you do to me?” He said, and before he could regain his sight.

Talnel aimed for an opening and fired a shot from his blaster, and it hit the Argent square in the head. The Argent fell down, and his lightsaber turned off.

With his Argent dead, Talnel looked at how Elam and his fight was going. Hopefully, as well as it was for him.

The two Argent rushed their targets at the same time, leaving Elam hoping his new ‘friend’ could handle himself as he had his own problems. Taking it defensive for a moment, at first Elam focused on blocks and parrys, trying to activate combat protocols, but it was obvious the Argent he was fighting knew about them and the fact that he needed a moment or two to bring them online, so he was pushing the pace.

Fine, burn. He thought. Hitting the Argent with a quick Throw to give himself an opening, he went on the offence; as he did so he used Convection to alter himself. In moments the air rippled and shimmered with intense heat and the Argent yelled as they got into a bind with their sabres and the heat began to singe skin and cloth.

A desperate Push knocked Elam back and the Argent tried to leap free, but he was in no mood for a drawn out fight. Letting go of the Convection, he focused Combustion on the Argent’s lightsaber, the glowing blade a good focusing point. As the man landed the hilt exploded like a simple grenade, shredding his hand and forearm. In the back of his mind, part of him said to interrogate the Argie to find out what was going on; but Elam was too mad, both at the ambush and himself for falling for it. Instead he channelled a powerful Push that sent he opponent flying back towards the wall of W4524 at speed usually reserved for swoop bikes. Blinded by the pain, the Argent knight was unable to save himself and he hit like an overly large bug on a windscreen.

Coming out of it, Elam deactivated his sabre and turned to the other man. Seeing the second Argent down with a neat blaster hole between the eyes, he chuckled and removed his helmet. ”And here I was worrying I’d dragged some poor bastard into my problems…seems you handled yourself rather well.” He said, clipping his hilt back on his belt.”Like I said, sorry for dragging you into my problems; never thought the Argies would be stupid enough to pull kark on Mandalore especially today.”

I’m Elam El-Rud He added, offering a hand. I think I owe you a drink or two.

Talnel put his blaster away and walked over and spoke to Elam. ”I will just take the one, and I thought a cantina fight was going to be the most… exciting highlight of my day.” He sighed as he looked at the Argent bodies. ” I am Talnel, and to be fair, the Argents did not really give me a choice in the matter.”

Was this what his vision was about? Talnel did not know, and he shook Elam’s hand. “They were bold to attack here and during the anniversary.” He looked again at their bodies, the first time he faced a force user in combat, and he managed to come out alive. Though they were not expecting him to be a force user as well. Did Elam notice? Better not bring up that, he thought.

While he was hesitant to accept Elam’s offer, he did feel some obligation to Elam who might have died without him, and he can wander the city later. Who knows maybe this is what his vision was about. ”We better get out of here before someone sees or who knows. More Argent show up, and I would rather my day not get more exciting, so let’s get that drink a place away from here.”

The TIE Interceptor swung down in a lazy arc, hanging in close to the grey hull of the Ascendancy-Class Destroyer. Rae Kilian turned down to her scanner, reaching across and flicking a switch to update it. It still showed no enemy contacts. On her left and right were Eleven and Twelve respectively, while on the underside of the vessel Seven, Eight and Nine were performing a sweep going in the opposite direction, fore to aft. At the edge of her scans, she picked up One to Six performing wide counter sweeps. Rae sighed into her helmet, working the pedals lazily as she glided over the hull of the Endurance.

Rae had been assigned to the ship two weeks ago and she still couldn't get over it. It was unlike anything-

An alarm started blaring throughout the cockpit as red triangles appeared on her scanner. She flicked through her settings. One Flight was the closest, and was already swinging back around to engage while Two Flight made its burn towards them. Her comm cracked to life. "Just as we practiced. One Flight, Two Flight. Move to engage, Three and Four hang back and protect the Nest-" The procedures and protocols, training and practice made it all second nature. All the pieces were already moving into position even before Major Thrace called it in.

They had been drilling non-stop since they had come aboard, and now it was finally time to shoot at something living. "-transmitting sensor data now. Clean comms."

As the comms clicked off, she pulled up the sensor readings. Each ship had the standard TIE cockpit, with an ion engine mounted on the back. Dropping out of hyperspace, they had three wings that unlike a standard TIE curved around the central cockpit in much a similar way as a Droid Tri-Fighter. She ran her tongue over the back of her teeth and clicked in frustration. For the second time in as many weeks she was presented with another new vessel.

Clicking her comm over to her flights she clicked her comm on. "Eleven, Twelve spread out. Divert as much power as possible, active scans. I want as much information on the incoming ships as possible."

Rae could do nothing but watch and wait as the red and green blips on her array moved together and became a mess of signals. In the distance, she could see the flashes of green and red through the abyss of space. In the first volley one of the enemy ships spun out wildly before powering down. A clean kill. Whereas in the opening volley Two and Three were knocked out of the fight. She began rhythmically tapping her fingers against her leg. Her comm clicked and came to life, as the well-spoken voice of the Coruscanti came through her helmet. "Rae, they're being cut to shreds aren't we going to-"

Her comm beeped as Control, Lieutenant Anders who relayed orders from the safety of the ship, came through. "Cut the chatter Eleven."

Rae gasped in shock as on sensors she saw the Major knocked out. Always anticipate your opponent's next move, and your superior's next order. The voice of her grandfather ran through her head as she began redistributing power through the fighter. Transferring it from the sensor suite to the engines, as soon as her comm clicked again she had already pushed the fighter on.

"Move in to engage targets Two-Ten."

Four Clicks out. Max range for lasers at one click, max range for a target lock one point five. She ran through the specs in her head. Flicking over to missile targetting as the six targets swung towards the Endurance. Eleven and Twelve trailed her wing, while Seven, Eight and Nine were swinging around at a heavier angle of intercept. Sevens flight would get there after Rae was already in firing range, but their angle of entry would give them an element of surprise against the incoming vessels.

Rae flicked her comm onto the command channel. "Mark trailing target as Five, lead as One. Fill in the rest incrementally." There was a signal chime to recognize acknowledgment. Her scanner screen flashed slightly as the profiles were updated. She watched as the distance continued to close between her and the hostile ships, targets four and five suddenly turned and headed towards the other flight of TIE interceptors.

On the bright side that technically halved their problems.

Raes targetting screen flashed green. "Two out, target one."

"Two out, target two."

"Two out, target three."

As Rae thumbed the trigger and called her shot, she rolled the ship. The missiles lanced out toward the target in a forward spiral. Eleven mimicked her maneuver, whereas Twelve showed his inexperience and just fired as a straight shot. She drew power from rear shields to cannons, switching over her weapons.

Firing in bursts towards the lead ship, still spinning fighting to keep her head centered. After all, there was only so much intertia dampeners could do. At this range the cannons wouldn't be effective, dancing uselessly off the shields. What it would do, was disrupt their targetting sensors. She watched as the range ticked down, once they got too one click she effectively hit the breaks as she pulled up. Twisting in an inverted left corkscrew. Up and over the enemy craft, bringing her around on its tail. She peppered its shield with laser fire as it duked and weaved, her missiles long forgotten.

Only about half her shots hit as the enemy craft duked and weaved, as if seeing the shots before they had even been fired. "I got one on my tail!"

Rae risked a look down to look at the scanner and swore under her breath. "I can't help you Eleven, I'm pinned!"

"Breaking off, swinging around."

She watched as the enemy craft pulled away from her. Putting on the throttle she attempted to close the gap between her and Twelve. Clicking her comms back on. "Bring him to me Twelve. Right at me, manoeuvre six." She brought herself on Twelves flightpath, headed on a collision course. As he bobbed to avoid the fire from behind she weaved in unison to try and hide herself in his silhouette, it wasn't a perfect manoeuvre but if the enemy pilot was focused on his target he might just miss her presence.

A chime on her scanner informed her Eleven was gone. She didn't have time to glance down to determine what the numbers were. One problem at a time. Flicking to missiles, she disabled her targeting computer. Aiming straight ahead. "Mark."

"Sync"

"Sync" Only a split second in difference in their reaction times. Nodding to herself she counted down.

"Three... two... ONE!" She thumbed the trigger, two missiles launched out of the tubes. Bringing her reserves down to two. As they approached the TIE Interceptor he pulled his nose up, as soon as he did the missiles streamed past where he had been moments before. Green laser blasts follow in quick succession. Even as her shots landed, Rae saw the enemy ship duke and twist. Its shields failed, as it twisted and shook.

It continued to fly straight at her, red blasts lancing out. What in the hell... She started to pull up out of the plane of fire, the enemy pilot doing the same and hitting the thrusters as it did so. She winced pushing everything to her engines, twisting down to the right they narrowly missed each other before her scanner beeped indicating her target was disabled.

The enemy pilot, realising he was out of the fight had tried to take her with him. No matter the cost.

A quick cursory glance at her scanner revealed that there were only two interceptors remaining, to three enemy craft. Looking around in order to get a bead on her next target, her entire ship shook and powered down. "Sithspawn!"

---

The mood in the hangar was sour as the pilots disembarked from their fighters. Some threw their helmets away in frustration, while others swatted away the mechanics and techs that approached them. They all made a beeline for Major Thrace who stood with his helmet under his arm, Rae could see he was still reeling from the fight however he was easily the more composed of the pilots. He stood looking at the far side of the hangar where the strange craft had landed. Rae had to repress a scoff as technicians and officers poured themselves over the 'enemy' craft. The flight pods opened, and the pilots disembarked.

Off-duty pilots started to file into the hangar from the hallways, clearly having been in Ops or Observation. Even Colonel Tynron walked in, forcing the Squadron into attention. He didn't acknowledge them, walking across the hangar he offered the opposing pilots a curt salute. She could only see the back of his head from here, looking among her fellow pilots. She saw a mix of anger and embarrassment on their faces. The Colonel shook the lead pilot's hand, then gestured at them as they all took their helmets off.

Rae couldn't see them clearly enough to know for certain, but the murmurs among the squadron reinforced her impressions. The oldest barely looked 17. A look from the Major brought them all back in line, as an Intelligence Officer and the Colonel led the pilots away. "What in the moons of Atollon..."

"Kids, we were bested by kids?"

"Major!" Tyrell shouted across the hangar, forcing all the nearby din to quiet down. The Major turned, the vein in his forehead as prominent as an eyebrow that appeared to be lost on his face.

"Major, what in the Chancellors name was that?

The Majors voice was low, and Rae was convinced it was only the anger which carried it. "The future of the Imperial Military. Squadron dismissed, see to your fighters. Debriefing in one hour."

---

Location: Keldabe Refugee District, Keldabe, Mandalore
Mentions: @pandapolio @Quest Abandoner @Paingodsson

They hadn’t found a quieter road.

He huffed out at the thought, though was somewhat content in what exactly they had found. It was a strange type of food, little bricks that smelled slightly funny yet was, in the chieftain’s mind, really quite delicious. He couldn’t tell what it reminded him of, and had gotten more than a few looks by those about him when he had first tried it some year before, but it seems as though Roh’okr agreed on one level or another.

<We need to buy more of this before we leave.> He hummed in his approval, a thin knife cutting off another chunk of gihaal before popping it through his mask. More strange looks from those around them. Urh’otrr’kur had heard it was an acquired taste. It did seem to have a good effect, though. Boisterous as they might be, the Imperials seemed to give a wide road…as did the others. Mandalorians, at least, had enough courtesy to not walk over others, and the Corellians smelled the gihaal far before they saw the pair. He snorted and brayed a chuckle.

<It keeps well in heat, I'm told. No substitute for Hubba gourds, though.>

<You can’t compare their food to home. If we did it'd all come short.>

The chieftain hummed his agreement before something in the distance caught his eye. One of the younger outlanders, one of the ones who wore a uniform with a head held high, running off with their back turned. A blaster shot rang out in that distance, much of it lost among the noise of the crowds. Roh'okr started at the noise, hands frozen in the motion of cutting off another chunk as he thought whether to extract his gaderffii from his belt.

<Should we find another road?>

Urh’otrr’kur slowed his stride as he thought over the question, head slowly turning to see if there were any reactions from the crowd. The most jittery, young bucks and children, seemed to be the only ones who left the road quickly. Most others just continued on their way. Those closest to the shot's sound seemed to be not at all worried about it, aside from a brief scream that coupled with no running. Curious and odd.

<If we keep trying to find another road we'll get nowhere. If shooting starts just use one of the Mandalorians as a shield. They're big enough. Come on.>

A snort of annoyance was his answer. They kept on, moving through the crowd, slowly coming upon…three individuals, all human. One was older, another held a large book in her hands, and a third was young, eaten up by a vast overcoat. The smell of burnt electronics was in the air, the door to a cantina closed. Stranger still. Urh’otrr’kur took a few steps to get away from the foot traffic, out from amid all of them, his guard following close behind. Urh’otrr’kur looked the door over from a distance, nodding sagely before opining.

<I've seen this before. Smugglers would do it, to seal doors when they couldn't fight.>

<What sort of raid here would warrant that? These people?>

<Too relaxed. There should be more than one exit that they'd be running to. Standing here…no, no.>

<What, then?>

<Not enough shooting to be a raid. Accidental, maybe?>

<Not enough cursing. They love doing that.>

He snorted, shaking his head at Roh'okr before starting to produce his translator from a robe pocket. Taking it in his palm, a little gray sphere, a few button presses to the side gave life to the device. Holding it up to just before his chest, the chieftain cleared his throat. It would serve his needs, albeit with a most mechanical tone.

<What happened here?>

Leading his new found compatriot away from their encounter, Elam stuck to side streets and back alleys to avoid the crowds of half-alert tourists that swarmed over Mandalore, and Keldabe City in particular, during Founding Day.

After ten or so minutes, and a couple brief pauses to make sure he had his bearings right, he brought them to one of the innumerable little drinking dens that dotted the side streets; this one in particular was called the ‘Rusty Nut’. Over the door was mounted the battered head of a B1 and as they pushed inside that theme seemed to continue with B1s, or at least parts of them, making up everything from the light fixtures to the legs of the tables and chairs.

There were only a few customers, and judging by the fact that they were all armed and armoured, all locals. He could feel the two of them being scrutinized, but ignored it. Heading up to the bar where an unhelmeted Mandalorian woman was cleaning some glasses, he nodded and placed a sum of credits on the bar. ”When you’ve got a moment, I’ll take a bottle of decent mando papuur'gal if you’ve got it, two ne'tra gal if you don’t…or all three if you’ve got both.”

The bartender laughed as she set down the glass she was cleaning and took the credits. “Ori'jate! One of those days eh?” Reaching below the bar, she brought up a bottle of mandalorian wine and two cups, setting them in front of Elam. “Be over with the ne’tr gal in a moment.” ”Vor entye.” He replied, grabbing the bottle and cups before joining Talnel at a table. Pouring two drinks he toasted the other man. ”Barely planetside and it’s already been one of ‘those’ days...”

---

Diertinont System...
Flonheim Royal Palace...
14 days prior...

The amber halls of the palace echoed with the raucous shouts and cheers of soldiers as they tore down the blue banners adorning the walls, making way for the gold and white that should have always hung here. Duke Emicho smiled, stroking the length of his thin mustache as he pondered how best to execute his brother when there was a commotion and the doors slammed open, two of his men pulling a shrieking young man in elegant blue finery by his wrists. A nephew, perhaps, one that could be sold to the markets instead of executed. Practicality eclipsed pity in his heart; he couldn't risk anyone else rising to challenge his claim. He glanced at the two men following his nephew and his captors; not his own soldiers, but men from the Empire, stoic and subdued, calmly marching behind them, ready for a fight. No, he couldn't risk it. Not with his new benefactors watching.

Moving through the grand hall as the soldiers looted and plundered for valuables, leading away prisoners in chains and taking for themselves anything seeming of value, Emicho decided to remove himself from the din and take the well-worn path to the council chambers, where the Empire's men stood watch, alongside the scarred transdoshan who came with them. Wretched thing. It ought to have been in a collar. As if it could read his thoughts, the reptile glared at him for a moment before resuming its post, allowing Emicho to slip by the guards and into the chamber, the heavy wooden door muting the chaos outside.

The throne and the table still stood where he remembered, now empty of his brother and the sycophants he surrounded himself with. He took a moment to rest a gloved hand on the arm of the grand throne, and a small smile curved his lips. All was finally right with the world. He'd reclaimed his destiny. Diertinont was his to rule again, and none would dare take his family's crown again.

"Such a curiosity."

Emicho turned sharply to the balcony on the far end of the room, where a tall, slender figure stood silhouetted against the evening sky. Her red and black cloak almost rendering her camouflaged, the duke almost flinched before he recognized it as his benefactor and smiled.

"The view is quite stunning when the sun comes up," Emicho said, casually strolling up behind her.

"Yet from where we are," the Imperial uttered, still staring out past the watch tower and the buildings, out towards the horizon. "You can't see the setting..."

Emicho rolled his eyes at another curious observation from this...Guardian, was it? Something like that, yes. He'd of course been certain that he could have overthrown his brother given enough time, but her arrival after being scorned by the previous ruler of Diertinont was both fortuitous and welcome all the same. Oh sure his allies all hemmed and hawed about the arrangement and how they'd be putting themselves under this "Emperor's" boot, but they didn't understand the game like he did. He'd paid lip service to a weak ruler before while doing as he pleased, he could do it to the trussed-up admiral who fancied himself a king. And if they were all like this preening sycophant, it would be all too easy.

"I'm surprised to still see you here," Emicho replied coolly after a moment to consider.

"And why would that be?" Minah Saden asked, finally turning to acknowledge him with a warm smile. "My job isn't quite finished here, after all."

"If you're talking about our, ah, arrangement, I can assure you-"

"Oh that's nothing to worry about," she said, stepping closer. "Your world is going to be a proper part of the Empire now, and I'm just making sure it all goes as smoothly as possible." She patted him on the arm. "After all those foul things your brother said about us, we wouldn't want the people to be up in arms about our presence."

"Anything to make the rabble happy, I suppose," the Duke sniffed, rubbing the spot on his arm as he looked out onto the courtyard, not filled with said rabble but battle scarred and occupied by his men, with a scattering of patrols of the more disciplined Troopers, stoic as ever but occasionally glancing up at the balcony where their master stood. He chuckled lightly to himself, before he heard a distinctive scream of the TIE fighters swooping overhead.

"Shame we didn’t have any of those," Emicho chuckled, watching them fly off into the distance. “A run or two would have sent my beloved brother-”

*THOOM*

Emicho gasped and threw up his arms as a blast of sound and air knocked him backwards, Minah remaining still as her cloak billowed out behind her. Blinking, the duke ran back to the balcony to see the mighty watchtower burning, billowing black smoke pouring into the air.

“What the blazes?” Emicho ran to the balcony where his soldiers stood dumbstruck. “Get over there and put that out, you idiots!” Before they could so much as pick up their rifles and run, there was a heaving sound of crumbling rock, and the tower began to fold under its own weight, crashing along the wall and sending up a great cloud of soot and dust. Shielding his eyes as the sound of the crash faded, he felt his heart skip a beat as he heard shouting in the distance.

“The devil is that?” he demanded as the noise grew louder.

“Sounds like the rabble.” Minah clucked her tongue as she scratched under her chin idly. “Dear me, and they don’t sound happy.”

The duke watched with mounting horror as over the walls poured dozens….no, hundreds of people, all moving in a great mass towards the palace, no symbol or flag uniting them, save for the unkempt rags of the slave and the peasant. The soldiers who rushed to save the tower were felled quickly, stabbed or sliced in a furious melee, picked off by the few blasters and rifles the mob had, or simply swallowed up by the teeming mass as it rushed towards the gates. His men that didn’t fall turned tail and ran for their lives, and the Imperials…wait…where were the Imperials? Where did they go?

“Bring around the fighters,” Emicho demanded, his voice shaking. “We can strafe them, the mob will break easily. Just…”

“We?” Minah tilted her head. “What makes you so sure there is a ‘we’ involved here?”

The duke’s blood ran cold as he looked back at the Guardian, the gears starting to turn in his head. When she turned to meet his gaze, Minah couldn’t help but grin. “Forgive me, but I just had to see the look on your face when you put it all together. It’s simply…” she waved a hand around to search for the word. “...gratifying.”

A thousand different emotions ran through Emicho’s head.”But…you said…”

“If it’s any consolation,” Minah continued, strolling from the balcony and patting him on the shoulder. “You were very helpful in getting rid of the other claimants to the throne, for however long it still exists.”

The duke’s temper began to rise as he stomped in after her. “But we had a deal! Why would you-?”

“Simple arithmetic, your highness. The more the Empire can offer, the more we get in return.” Her brow furrowed and her gaze darkened where he could not see. “And we can offer much more to those who you put in chains. More than an old crown and a tacky chair.”

The indignity. The betrayal. The impunity. Emicho felt his anger curdle. “You….you mangy whore! This is my kingdom! This is MY crown!” His hand shot towards the dagger at his hip. “If you think you’ll take it from me-”

Minah turned around, and the burning anger behind her eyes made him flinch. She stepped towards him, and he stepped back, his hands trembling. Baring a teeth back in a snarl, he felt for the dagger.

“Please. Do try it. Give me the excuse.”

His breath shortened as Minah took another step, towering over him, hands still folded behind her back, her gaze cutting deeper than any blade. Her words came in a harsh whisper.

“I have broken better men than you.”

What little resolve he had broke. Emicho’s hand went limp, and he slunk backwards, out towards the balcony. Minah’s expression changed on a dime back to her smirk. “A very smart move. That’s what made you such a pleasure to work with, after all!”

Broken and defeated, Emicho looked back at her with unbridled hatred. “So what are you here for then? To kill me?”

“Kill you? Goodness no, not with the Empire weeks away from a diplomatic summit with Mandalore and Corellia!” Minah laughed at the very suggestion as she turned to head towards the door. “I’m merely here to welcome Diertinont into the Imperial fold. Naturally I intended to have you in charge, but with how deeply unpopular you’ve been among your enslaved population, it seems you simply couldn’t keep a handle on power.” She turned to smile back at him one last time. “Fortunately my backup plan to arrange for your abdication and negotiate with the newly freed people of Diertinont is going well.”

Emicho did not look up from the floor as Minah smiled and prepared to leave. “So…that’s it?” he asked, his voice hoarse and tired. “You want my abdication?”

“Well, that point is moot sadly.” Minah turned away, a small gleam in her eye.

“Because I have no choice,” Emicho mumbled.

“No. Because the rebels got to you before I could.”

Minah made a small motion with her hand, like the brushing of a fly off her lapel, and the duke was violently forced backwards, the air knocked out of his lungs as he tumbled over the balcony and landed hard on the dirt below. Coughing violently, feeling the blood pooling in his mouth, he heard the mob flooding the courtyard go silent.

“It’s him!”

“It’s the Duke!”

“GET HIM!”


“TEAR HIM APART!”

Far above, Minah took a deep breath as she listened to the screaming fade away into the sound of the mob, before pushing the doors open.

“Poor man couldn’t take losing his throne,” Minah said curtly to her men standing guard. “He was just falling all over himself.”

“What a shame," the scarred trandoshan smirked. We’re done here, then?”

“Indeed, Vakar. Another victory for the Empire." Minah made a gesture and her escort formed up, the trandoshan Vakar walking casually alongside her. "The rebels should be cooperative, keep the peace until the administrators arrive,” sheordered the Imperial soldiers as she strode past them, regular troopers nodding and taking positions while the ones in full helmets joined her entourage alongside Vakar. “Bring my shuttle and prepare the Justicar for departure. We’re due to join the fleet headed for Mandalore.”

"So we're in the honor guard after all," Vakar commented, hoisting his E-11 onto his shoulder. "Great."

"I wouldn't fret," Minah replied, hearing the chanting of the free people through the walls as her group made their way to the shuttle bay. "I'm sure our mission there will be FAR more interesting..."

Talnel is not one who drinks often since he likes being in control of himself, and he might do something stupid while drunk and expose himself as a dark side user or a Sorcerer of Tund to others. Granted, most people probably have not heard of the Sorcerers, but since their deaths. Talnel has to be careful or risk joining the Sorcerers in death.

But as Elam toasted his drink and spoke. Talnel thought the need to join in regardless, and one drink should not be bad right?

So Talnel grabbed hold of his drink and toasted with Elam, "Today has certainly been more eventful than I thought," and he took a sip of the wine. The expression on his face was one of surprise and wonder as he put the cup down."I do not think I have ever had something like that before." Showing a half smile, "But I like it, and you have some good taste." Granted, he does not drink much, so he does not know many drinks. But Elam does not need to know what.

Talnel briefly looked around at the armed and armored patrons. Even when relaxing, Mandos still are prepared for a fight. He was also looking at the B1 droid parts that were everywhere. Either the owner hates the model, or there were alot of spare parts around when this place was made.

Focusing back to Elam and subtly at his lightsaber, "I think I needed this after today, and as long I do not get into another fight today, I will be happy."

---

Ro Nuul politely nodded, his hands remaining clasped behind his back. He felt his gaze wander outside, watching the ships and people outside moving in a chaotic harmony. More had survived, which was always good to hear. A few less the cyborg had taken from the Jedi... not enough, but any singular life was a celebration. Focusing on the destruction had led many down a dark path, even within the Enclaves. He knew better than to let his heart dwell on it too much.

Koren bowed his head. "My affiliation in the Galaxy is to my Queen, and my desires are hers." He smiled kindly at the Kel Dor. "Right now, the Separatists have probed our borders. We have a strong fleet, but I doubt we could withstand a sustained attack." Koren shrugged. He signaled to one of his guards who moved away to call down the shuttle. "I suppose we are in need of friends."

He sighed. "How do I wish for the Consortium to fit in? That is not my place to say. I'm here too make contact and report back. I can advise my Queen, I can't make decisions on her behalf." He raised his hand, his tone shifting to jovial as a smile crossed his face. "It's a marriage thing."

Ro Nuul nodded politely, feeling through the force yet again that the two were isolated and alone enough to speak plainly. "I do not believe the Masters of the Order expected so many of our rank to end up betrothed within their lifetimes... I have found my obligations in far less cheerful and loving company, I am afraid." Ro Nuul's cheeks contorted into the closest it could get to a cheeky grin, before his voice dropped a little in volume with a serious tone. "As for your queen and our people, Prince... you have options, however limited, when it comes to allies. But any assistance will always come at a cost."

"The simplest method of obtaining aid is to contract a Mandalorian Banner, though their ability to provide assistance and aid may be restricted under this Republic's charters and articles. The Mandalorians are well known and well-respected for their talents in the arts of war. They would most certainly prove to be the most expensive in terms of exchanging currency. This is the most you can expect of the Mandalorians, for the Iron Truce will proclude you from any aid or support from the army itself. Our government has chosen a more isolationist approach to dealing with the CIS." Ro Nuul's tone was anything but subtle. The very name of the Bes'hakajir seemed almost painful for the Jedi to utter. He did not hesitate much as he continued. "As for the other galactic governments... and I speak with candor when I say this, I worry they may prove even more difficult to work with. The Alsakani can provide little aid or reliability, the Correllians are only interested in their own borders, and the Empire rarely provides aid to a world without assimilating it into its ever-expanding border... it's hardly a surprise why little has been done about the CIS in decades."

Ro Nuul turned his gaze back to Koren. "However... I do not wish to dissuade you from making connections while you are here. This Founding Celebration is a good opportunity to meet with advisors and envoys from all across this galaxy. If you need any introductions... I am more than happy to help schedule a meeting." Ro Nuul's voice became less grave, instead finally matching the humorous tone Koren has used before. "Of course, I am trying to avoid my obligations to entertain a few of my aristocratic colleagues... so I would not mind accompanying you for a while longer, your highness."

Elam couldn’t help but chuckle at Talnel’s comment. ”Well fights are pretty standard here…I’m pretty sure Mandalorians fight as a way to say hi.” A man at one of the nearby table’s must’ve heard him, because the Mando laughed and raised his drink in a salute. “Talyc pirusti staabi!” He laughed. ”Munit oyacyir te verda!” Elam replied, returning the salute with his own drink.

Turning back to Talnel, he smiled and shook his head. ”Usually it’s not that bad here though; I just hit some kark luck and you got dragged into it.” Sitting back a bit more, he nodded a ‘thanks’ to the bartender who’d just arrived with the ne’tra gal; once the drinks were delivered and the bartender was gone, he took a sip. ”So, what brings you to Mandalore if you don’t mind me asking? You uh, don’t exactly strike me as a Founding Day tourist.”

Rorwoorr took a second to compose himself. <Perhaps I failed as a Master. It is never a failure to offer aid to those in need.>

Ishtil shrugged and chuckled slightly under his breath. "That is not what I am saying. Citizens of the Empire require aid-"

<Citizens of the Galaxy.> Rorwoorr interjected.

Ishtil continued, ignoring the interruption. "You're a one-hundred-year-old Wookiee trained as a warrior from birth. If all the Jedi of your experience were to work with us, we could finally bring this war to an end."

Rorwoorr sighed. <We have had this conversation before, my apprentice.> He walked away from the plant in the centre of the room, looking up through the skylight he watched as the racing vessels passed again. This time with a different ship in the lead. Rorwoorr had lived a long life. He had seen the Republic as a strong union of the Galaxy, had seen it become festered and poisoned by corruption and greed. A sickness that infected every vein of the Galaxy, including the Jedi as the Galaxy erupted into war.

A war that killed or corrupted everyone or everything it touched. Even now the Jedi were more spread out than they had been before, with no sense of unity between the various orders. Just like the Galaxy.

<I am no warrior. Nor am I willing to take a side.>

"By not taking a side you would see the Separatists control the Galaxy-"

<I will fight for the people, I will fight to see people free, happy and healthy. This has not changed>

"Do you care nothing of Gerarks sacrifice?"

A cold shiver ran up Rorwoorrs spine. To this day some small part of him mourned his former Padawan. There was no way to know if the Jedi could have survived Knightfall, no doubt he would have died defending the Temple to ensure as many could survive as possible. Rorwoorr had been elsewhere in the Galaxy when he had felt Gerarks death, only to have it later confirmed by the Jedi Council. Could the Wookiee have helped?

Well. There was no point in dwelling. He had lost so many friends, not just to war but to the ravages of time.

<Gerark was a loss to the Galaxy, as is every other life. You waste your breath Ishtil. I care not for politics.>

The Zabrak grimaced in a near snarl, his wrist comm buzzing slightly. He turned around and took the call privately.

"There are Argent in the area. I've been called to help organise our younger Imperials to ensure their safety and wellbeing."

Rorwoorr bowed his head. <Go safely, my former Apprentice.> He meant what he said, sincerely. Though he could feel the agitation rolling off the Zabrak in waves as he walked out of the building.

I suppose my first fight today happened at a cantina, and well.... I was not in the fight, but it happened in front of me and took over most of the cantina. Luckily, the blaster shot only hit the door controls, but unluckily, I had to find another way out since the door was sealed shut." Talnel sort of chuckled and took another sip of his drink. So, I have been dragged into two fights today, so do not feel so bad about it. It is not like they gave us a choice in the matter."

When Elam asked why he was here on Mandalore and he correctly pointed out that Talnel did not seem like a simple tourist. Talnel was not sure of what to say, really. While he did not want to point out he is a force user or that a vision brought him here. Especially since someone might overhear, but he did not feel like lying to Elam after the fight with Argent. Though the Sorcerers did train him in deception, and now he could try some of that training.

So, after taking another sip of his drink, Talnel makes his choice and answers Elma's question. " You are right that I am not a tourist, but the thing is that I have personal business here or did really. Nothing bad or illegal, no laws broken, just something I had to do, and I figure after finishing that I stick around for the festivities." Talnel chuckled, "Though so far, today seems to be more exciting than why I came here."