JulienJaden

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

And another post, even if it's just a short one, just to be a dick to the people who have to catch up on the IC thread. :P

Oh, and to advance the story, of course.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

"We shouldn't stay on the upper levels", Lyla pointed out, a little surprised by how confidently she took part in this conversation. "Blending in with the population isn't enough. There's still enough surveillance in the undercity to find us or at least trace our steps if they know where we went. But below sublevel... 2-25, I think, there's a lot less of that. People aren't friendly that far down but they'll leave you alone if you look dangerous or poor enough, or if know where to hide."

She gave the Padawan next to her a sideways glance in the blue light of her saber. He was exhausted, that much was obvious. They all were, if they were completely honest, but he seemed to be hurt as well and the person who could have really helped him, the one who had helped her...
Lyla shook off the thought. She couldn't allow herself to let her mind wander in that direction, she needed to stay focused - she feared that once they took a rest, once she let herself think about all the others who had died, she wouldn't be able to pull herself together again. But there was no denying that they would not be able to leave the planet in their current clothes or state. At the very least, they needed to go down far enough so they could properly lose their pursuers, steal or buy new outfits and tend their wounds.

They were all due for a few hours of sleep but every second counted and even a brief respite could cost them what little they had gained. And if she was completely honest, she was feeling a hint of anger at how little attention Master Worror seemed to pay to what she said. Maybe that was why she pressed on.

"I know what places we could go to, how to disappear down here, where to find what we need. I hate the undercity more than anyone but I also know it better than anyone, even you, Master. Please... Please trust me and let me guide us."

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

@Sep I'm proud of you. <3

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

@Sep Alright, I'm expecting. :P

Amongst the Lonesome- A return to Santa Somabra [Fantasy Noir]

@Kingfisher And don't forget that you're due for a collab with me too. :P

{Closed}

Here it is. It's not very long, but at this point, it made more sense to give others a chance to take part in the conversation, introduce themselves or talk to somebody else.

That and writing long collabs while literally everybody is around might lead to the collabs themselves becoming a little detached from the action around them.

{Closed}

Collab by @Garden Gnome (Senua), @IcePezz (Annalynne), @OneWayOut (Jessabelle) and @JulienJaden (Nicholas).

---

Jessabelle's words were a lot less kind than those of the other woman but the comment from the neighboring carriage made Nicholas laugh.
"I appreciate the sentiment! Perhaps I should shave my head to be more like our friend here. Or maybe grow one feet taller? Ah, but then again, I don't think my ego would survive rapid changes like that. I guess I will have to wait until I can show everybody my beautiful pe- uh, personality."

While he let the joke take effect - or not - he shot Jessabelle a quick, curious glance. What circumstances could have brought her here when she said herself that Isabelle, Annabelle, Mirabelle and Clarabelle were relying on her? It didn't seem to make much sense for her to go on a dangerous quest that Nicholas knew was a lot more likely to go badly and end in all of them dying than seeing them successful and with an immunity to magic poisoning in hand. He would have asked, perhaps, had she not made it abundantly clear that she didn't care to talk to him, and her previous comment, however much it reminded him of their friendly bickering in better days, did little to change that impression.

As the man across from him seemed too preoccupied with the most silent person in their carriage, Nicholas instead turned to the woman next to him.
"So, since I'm a fool for wishing to die in the comfort of my own bed, wanting for nothing, why are you here?"

Not quite waiting for her to answer, he leaned forward to glance through the window to the neighboring vehicle, grinning at the woman who was
"And what about you, oh stalwart defender of my manliness?"

Despite his reservations, he looked at Jessabelle again, silently extending the same question to her.

---

Senua let loose a chuckle as the man suggested to shave his head in an attempt to put his manliness on par with the other more muscular man on his carriage. He even wanted to show everybody his beautiful pe-personality! For a moment there, she thought it was something else entirely. An unsure smile tugged at the edges of her lips as she swallowed the words she nearly uttered about the man's personality. The brunette listened to the suave and charismatic man he began speaking to the other lady before moving back to her, tossing her a direct question this time around. "And what about you, oh stalwart defender of my manliness?" He even called her his stalwart defender of his manliness! Her lips spread into a wide smile as she stifled an oncoming laughter.

"Well, I didn't have much of a choice, really. I was a criminal, you see. Not my fault of course, yes I know, they all say that,but I'm innocent, really. To cut a long story short, I was offered my freedom if this expedition bore fruit. No idea what they saw in me, but this is sure as hell better than rotting away in some dark and dingy dungeon."

---

Her eyes canvassed the carriage, settling on Jessabelle. There was obvious tension between her and the care-free gentleman. The answer she gave wasn't exactly a direct one, but there was something said that caught Annalynne's interest. Something about not having the luxury of death and just then, Annalynne felt quite alone.

She had opened her mouth with the hope of striking with a witty response. The notion of speech, unfortunately, was quickly swept away when the girl from the other cart spoke up. She couldn't make heads or tails about the her. She spoke of seeking freedom, which was certainly something she could relate to. But, Annalynne didn't particularly care for spunky loud mouths - and suddenly, her imagined future of the group flashed before her eyes once more. Blood every where, it wasn't a pretty sight.

Despite this, there was something amusing about it all, deep down inside a chuckle wanted to emerge. The girl from the other carriage was another criminal. Reasonable enough, no normal, sane person would volunteer for this mission. At least they all had that in common - they had nothing to lose. It was what they had to gain that made each person interesting, that made it all worth it. Unfortunately, she couldn't come up with an answer that sounded any less ridiculous than his.

"I suppose the notion of dying in ones own bed is certainly an appealing one. Unfortunately, it's not a luxury that many of us have, nor is it likely a luxury that this mission will allow any of us once all is said and done. Though those are just my thoughts on the matter. My reasons are my own, but I think there is one thing that most, if not all of us have in common. We have nothing left to lose at this point."

There was something off about her as she sulked back in her seat. Pain stricken and guilty. She had given up on the only family she had left. A soft sigh escaped her, and she went along in silence, hoping that someone would speak up soon, filling the quiet void.

---

"You can say that again", Nicholas murmured to himself, his voice so low that only Jessabelle and Annalynne could hear him. He had been looking for a mission like this, organization and information like this for a while. The ICC wasn't the only group that offered an immense reward for finding the new panacea, the substance that turned anyone who tasted from it into a god - or at least something as close to that as one could possibly hope to come. But unlike the others, the ICC seemed to have at least some kind of idea of where to look, even if them hiring random strangers rather than sending their own to secure spoke volumes about how much they trusted this information.

He had cut himself off from everything and everyone long before but things hadn't just been going well in the years after he left Sorei. Nicholas bore more scars than before, he looked and felt older and more tired. Without a home to return to or people to look out for, the world wore you out quickly. But he had nobody else to blame but himself - he had never been one to point fingers or lament about the things that didn't go as planned - so he didn't. And yet the woman was right: He had nothing left to lose. In fact, as his eyes wandered from face to face, he found himself thinking that they all had more to lose than him.

But he wasn't one to let thoughts like that keep him down for too long, at least not as far as his appearance was concerned. Within a few seconds, he donned his charming smile again.
"But a man can dream, and I'm sure you'll be thinking about that bed I was talking about soon enough, once we are out of these rolling coffins. And you are in good company", he raised his voice so their neighbor knew that he was addressing her, "my... friend here", he winked at Jessabelle, knowing full well that she could and probably would strangle him in his sleep if he overdid it, "and I, we both hail from Sorei, the city where you can lose your money, your innocence, your dignity and the clothes on your back before the sun has set. I am the magnificent, the one and only, the world-reknown... Nicholas", he concluded lamely but somehow still succeeded in sounding supremely pompous.

"I'm sure you've heard of me... or somebody with the same name, I don't know. It was probably me. Unless it was something about goats and cheese and- uh, anyway, that definitely wasn't me. So... Who are you?"
He looked at Jessabelle again, trying to make out if she was at all entertained by his babbling, but if she was, the twilight of the carriage hid it well, though he thought he could see the corners of her mouth twitch. It was enough to make him push his luck and attempt to communicate with her.

"What is your name, beautiful stranger?"

---

She'd kept her eyes fixated on the passing scenery as the others spoke, and Jessabelle didn't have anything to say while they did. Of course she heard most of what they were talking about, but in truth, she wasn't inclined to participate. And so she didn't. Even though her calm expression was set in stone, her mind was buzzing with so many questions and concerns, worries and fears. Had she not naturally been so stoic, it would have been clear to anyone who cast their eyes upon her. Jessabelle was consumed in her thoughts before something Nicholas said made her inadvertently turn her head to look at him. He was referring to her as a friend, telling them they both hailed from the same city before pompously introducing himself. She rolled her eyes at this, thinking that the man before her seemed to have changed so little in regards to his personality. How she wished she were close enough to kick him.

"I believe "magnificent" and "world-renowned" are taking things a little too far wouldn't you say, friend?" she said to him, her tone light as she adjusted her seating position. One of her legs had started to go numb, so she uncrossed them and stretched them out before crossing them again, the numb one resting atop the other.

"My name's Jessabelle. It's a pleasure. Please forgive my silence for now, I choose not to speak often because, well, you know what they say: "If you've nothing nice to say, say nothing at all"." That being only one reason and the other being she didn't open up to people... at all. She was even a bit annoyed Nicholas had told them where she was from, then again everything he said at this point annoyed her to some degree. She had no intention of making friends here, but at least she didn't want any enemies, or to make them feel like she couldn't be trusted. Not that she cared on a personal level, but she believed that a mutual trust would work out well for all parties involved.

Though she had broken her long string of silence, she planned to settle right back into it.

---

Senua watched as the pair from the neighbouring carriage introduced themselves. The charismatic man was known to be Nicholas the magnificent, while the girl was simply known to be Jessabelle. Surprisingly, they both hailed from Sorei as well, the very same place where she was born and lived most of her life in. She'd never heard of this man by the name of Nicholas though he claimed to be really popular. But then again, back in Sorei, she did not wander around the city much, and so that could have attributed to her ignorance of the name and his popularity. Senua thought about how the man talked, and how flamboyant he sounded, very much like the performer or the storyteller she had once saw during her childhood back in Sorei. She had long forgotten the name of the fellow, but remembered distinctly what he looked like, and the way he was dressed.

His clothing was bright and lavish, though one could tell that it was not because of wealth but of his profession. He had referred to himself as 'the magnificent' as well, and had entertained quite a small crowd in a small terrace a few blocks away from the home she shared with her father. Senua had gone along to watch and listen to his tales with her father watching close by. The young girl then had listened to his tales of adventure and battle, where valiant warriors fought creatures of various ferocity, showcasing their might and emerging victorious. Those were stories that she would never forget, for they instilled in her a desire for adventures of her own.

Senua spoke up. "I go by the name of Senua, and was born and lived most of my life in Sorei as well. I left the place after my father died and have been wandering around ever since. Well, I guess you can say that life hasn't really been all that great for me so far. I hope that this would be a turn for the better. We can all hope, can't we?"

---

Again, she couldn't help but chuckle at Jessabelle's response. Her own temper had sometimes made it very hard to live by those words, but some may argue that is why she remains silent when forced to work with others.

Senua spoke up, introducing herself as yet another adventurer, still wet behind the ears. You had to envy the girl to some point. Despite having already had a taste of death, and the trouble independence has brought her, she was still young, bright eyed and bushy tailed, untouched by the harshness and cruelty of life. She still didn't like her though.

They had all been honest in one way or another. But no matter how this mission went, she was still a renowned spy and assassin, at least within some circles. Still, they were not asking for her life story, it was just a name. She had rarely gone by her real name anyway, she doubted anyone would recognize her, or be in danger because of this name. She wanted desperately to open up. They were all beautiful and witty in their own way, a crowd that she -could- possibly make a friend in. Not that it was something she was here for, but it would be nice to be a part of something.

From her slumped spot, wedged between the awkward pair, she sat up and said. "Annalynne, my name is Annalynne."

The Absent King

So, it was Aust. Annara wasn't sure if she was glad it wasn't somebody like Lothren or if she would have preferred somebody like their leader who would yell at her to pull herself together. She could hear the concern in his voice and, somehow, that made her feel even worse. She wasn't the victim here - a drop of the child's blood still clung to the edge of her knife, sitting next to her.

"It's nothing", Annara insisted, grabbed her knife and shakily got up, steadying herself on the wall with one hand as she wiped her mouth with the back of the other.
Maybe the elf had seen what happened, or maybe he didn't. Either way, she didn't intend to talk about it, at least not to him. Something told her that she would be met with understanding, with compassion, with excuses for her behavior, and she didn't want any of it. Nobody had forced her hand. She couldn't stand the thought of somebody defending her when she felt so guilty.

Instead, she let go of the wall, turned around to Aust and forced a wry smile on her face that made the muscles in her cheeks ache - still, it looked real enough. If she had learned one thing among the Ytharien, it was how to lie convincingly.
"It must have been something I ate. Either Rannon's cooking is really bad or he's actively trying to poison us."

The dark-haired woman closed the distance and, with her clean hand, softly patted his leg, looking up at him on his horse.
"Try not to think about this during the next play. It would make those kisses really awkward. And", she lowered her voice and gave it a sultry tone as if she wasn't covered in blood and had just lost her dinner, "Alan didn't comment on them but those were really good, too."

Flirting and teasing were so much easier than telling the truth. He was a good man, as far as she was concerned: A little quiet but obliging, a good listener, and the only elf who consistently put up with her attempts at learning their language. Yet she didn't want to confide in him.
Without another word or even awaiting his reaction, she walked out of the small alley and, after a quick look around, found her own horse. The stallion looked a little unsure of himself with all the chaos around them but as she approached, cooing gently to him, he seemed to relax and let her get up.

Indeed, most of the townfolk seemed to have abandoned the village by now but she wasn't ready to ride back yet. After all, she had promised Alan that nobody would die today, and she would make sure of that before she rode back to camp.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile - Knights of the Last Republic

@Sep Are you moving us forward? Don't take this as me saying "somebody should be killed off"; it's just that I think, at this point, those of us who still want to participate either posted already or don't really know how to contribute with a decently long post and are holding back. Either that or they are very forgetful, isn't that right, old man @Jbcool? :P

Plus, as we proceed, you might be able to bring in some fresh blood.

The Absent King

Annara

The exchange between Lothren and Alan still rang in her ears as Annara rode into the village, her hair and face covered in blood from a dinner rabbit, the carefully applied 'warpaint' making her appearance downright terrifying. Despite her attempt to reassure Alan, he was not convinced and, of course, he didn't warm up to her. Perhaps he was right - they both knew that, if somebody threatened her life, she would defend herself, even if that meant getting more blood on her hands.

As she threw her torch on an open henhouse, the chicken already roused by the noise and thus as safe from the flames as they could possibly be, Annara saw movement in the entrance of a building, a small face with wide eyes.
She dismounted and, with sure steps and a dark expression on her face, entered. Three voices all shouted over each other but they all died down when her sure hands had found what they were looking for: The hair of a small boy, no older than eight, and her knife, pressed against the child's throat. His parents stood across from her, his mother swimming in tears and his father frozen in place, his knuckles white around a spear's shaft.

"Drop the spear", she said, her voice cold and unwavering. It killed her to see the people before her so powerless but had she not gotten hold of the kid, the spear would have long been buried in her chest. The man complied and, with a look of resignation that made her heart ache, let the weapon fall to the floor with a dull clang.

"Good. Now take some food and coin for the road and put it in a bag. You are leaving."
She saw a hint of defiance in his eyes but the sobbing child that was at her mercy made him think better of it as he turned and began to gather things. Annara directed her gaze at the woman.
"You, go and set the beds on fire."

The woman didn't move an inch, crying and uttering incomprehensible reassurances. With a merciless tug on his hair, the child and mother yelped in panic as she drew blood, but Annara's voice, commanding and loud, pierced through the noise within the house and without.
"If you don't stop crying like a useless whore, your boy is going to be a lot less pretty when you get him back. Set. The house. On fire."

Without another moment's hesitation, the woman grabbed burning logs from the hearthfire and ran about with them, destroying her home with desperate fervor. As they returned, Annara stepped backwards through the door, the parents in tow. Most of what they said to each other and the boy was drowned by the thumping of her heart in her ears, but once outside, once they saw the other villagers fleeing, the other houses on fire, the other Ytharien wiping their settlement off the map, she noticed how their shoulders sagged and knew that all will to defy her was gone.

"Go. Run. And don't return. This land doesn't belong to you anymore."
With a rude push, the boy fell forward and scampered into his mother's arms. Both of his parents shot Annara looks of passionate hatred, yet their relief and fear got the better of them, as they turned to run.
Only the man let his gaze linger a bit longer and spoke through gritted teeth:
"I hope that your death finds you helpless, desperate and agonizingly slow."

She watched them join the other refugees as the first flames broke through the roof of their former home, then turned around the corner and, no longer able to hold it back, fell to her knees and emptied her stomach. The coppery taste of blood was more welcome than that of bile, yet it did little to quench the next wave of nausea that shook her.
This entire episode had been scary, to say the least, but it wasn't the fear for her own life or what she did that made it so sickening - it was how easily she had been able to act against her better judgement and morals, how powerful it had made her feel to exert control over others, how the persona she thought she only pretended to be had become her, ready to do anything.

Annara heard footsteps and turned her head as she wiped her mouth. She couldn't really see who it was from the corners of her eyes, though she was sure it was one of the elves, perhaps Aust or Juna. Had they seen what she did with the family, that she had her knife at a young boy's throat? She waved her hand, the taste of vomit still tingling in her throat.
"I'm fine. I... just need a moment."