Along the halls of the Praxeum, decorations have been taken down, the festivities hosted by the War Councillor and the High Coucillor have ended. Once more returning the place to one of learning and of contemplation and of training. The sounds of laughing padawans, overworked recruits and Masters in heated debate can be found just about everywhere.
Mihoshi Keibatsu, the War Councillor and reason behind overworked recruits, stood quietly off to one side of the yard where members of the military trained in relative safety with bladed weapons, their instructors showing them how to perform the different strikes.
Watching the soldiers drill Len Iode formerly a crackshot special operator who had rotated out of combat since stepping down as Councilor of the Roll, was transported back in time. For the last couple of years, Len had actually been “acting his rank” working through the reorganization and integration of the OEF into the OUSC. He had decided to return to the Praxeum now to work out and scope potential recruits for special mission assignments. Seeing the War Councillor, he approached.
“Just wait until they take the safety blades off. That’s when you see who is scared and who isn’t.” He extended his hand. “I haven’t had the pleasure beyond the quick grip and grin at HQ. Colonel Len Eode.”
Miho turned to find herself staring at a large chest for a moment before she looked up - way up - and smiled gently. “Welcome, Colonel Iode.” She took the hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m glad to meet you in person rather than that stuffy meet and greet. Mihoshi Keibatsu, I’m the current Qar Councillor and all around nuisance for High Councillor Haku.”
She took her hand back and turned towards the recruits once again. “We’ll be changing their blades out in a week and they’ll face older soldiers not fellow recruits. Fear is the one thing I will not allow.”
She tapped a finger to her lips with a wink. “But, don’t tell them that. It’s going to be a wicked surprise for some.”
Len smirked, “Wouldn’t dream of ruining the fun.” His face returned to a neutral expression. “Any seem extra attuned already?” Really if I want to get a good look I should come back the day they switch the blades out. Iode thought.
The small woman looked out over the training recruits with a shrug. “Most of them show some promise. But, that could just be a flash.”
She waved a hand at them with a wolf’s grin that showed all of her teeth. “My job is to weed out those that are just flashes and to refine those that are more.”
An eyebrow raised as Miho looked up at Len from the corner of her eye. “You can get in there and correct them if you would like. I’m sure the instructors would be grateful that such a decorated officer was willing to step in.”
“Maybe on a range day. My hand to hand skills are…Lacking finess shall we say. A blaster or charges are my tools of the trade.”
Miho laughed softly and shook her head. “Well, Colonel, if you ever want to learn, I would be happy to give you private lessons so you don’t get embarrassed in front of the troops.”
She winked up at Len and turned her attention back towards the training ground. “I think we’re still a few months away from giving them ranged anything.”
“I might take you up on that offer,” he paused thinking of his options. “However, I’d rather do it here. On the parade grounds. Showing the troops that no one person is the best at everything might prove to be advantageous.”
Whilst Jade had opted to remain in the hangar, insisting that anyone interested in mechanics or piloting could find her there, Celevon Werd'a, Artemis and Ruana Suoh-Werd'la had begun to wander the Praxeum grounds. The half-Sephi had quickly spotted a group of both younglings, Padawans and recruits near a table full of Miscellaneous Weapons and set out to aid the instructors that appeared overwhelmed.
The Seeker smiled to himself as his daughter walked off, all three of them in much more casual attire.
“I don’t understand why I couldn’t wear my armor,” Ruana grumbled for what had to be the fifth time since they had set off from Solyiat. Unlike the previous times, the male chose to answer.
“It isn’t just an intimidation factor, Ru. Lest you forget, the original owner of that armor was my adopted grandfather, a Clone,” Celevon began explaining as he caught sight of the Councilor of War and a male he had not spoken to in years. “If any of the Force Sensitives are Kiffar or particularly psychically inclined, they will sense everything about the people that wore the armor. And if they were to touch it…”
His Pantoran daughter-in-law watched him carefully, not missing the shudder that rippled across Celevon’s frame. “You saw something the first time you touched it, didn’t you?”
The Shaevalian-Umbaran nodded slowly, then began speaking softly. “I was fourteen and unaware I possessed the affinity for Psychometry, as my memories had been lost. I saw the execution of Order 66 through my adopted grandfather’s eyes, his most traumatic memory. His behavior chip had been damaged, so when the others turned on the Jedi Master they were accompanying, Eilif refused to follow the order… and, when the other clones turned on him, he was forced to kill his brothers to aid the survival of the Jedi he considered a friend, ally and brother.”
The Pantoran Weapons Specialist chose to remain silent as they continued walking toward the others.
As Len finished his sentence, he noticed out of the corner of his eye. A smile crept across his face, one mixed with memories high and low. “Pardon me one moment Councillor, an old friend just arrived.”
Miho looked where Len did and nodded with a smile. “Of course. Try not to keep yourselves up too late reminiscing.”
She watched Celevon for a moment with his daughters and then turned back to the task at hand. The small woman flicked a few hand signs towards one of the instructors who immediately began running the recruits a little faster.
All eyes were fixed on the clatter and clash of blades as each student shifted their feet, breathing and striking through their exercises. All eyes, save for two, staring blindly ahead from beneath bushy white brows. Instead, Liam listened, his ears taking in the swish of weaponry and the creak of leather boot soles as he pulled his cloak closer around himself with a smile. He felt through the Force the twinge of surprise from the Proconsul, as she noticed him sitting in the corner beside one of the statues of Jedi adorning the courtyard’s boundaries.
With a wry smile, he nodded to her in acknowledgment. “Good day to you, Councillor of War,” He said, his voice hoarse with the ravages of time. “Your recruits show great promise.”
Violet eyes widened as she watched the old Jedi seem to materialize out of the shadows and stone. He looked, we’ll, ragged for a lack of better words. “Thank you, Master Torun. Promise they all have, but only time will tell if it is a certainty.”
The small Kyataran shook her head slightly, her face becoming more baffled than startled as she continued to look at the down and out appearance of the old man’s clothes, also taking in his sightless eyes, his advanced years and the cane he, at her assumption, used to get around. “Would you care for some refreshment? I have a very nice Kyataran tea my brother sent me from home. I can have one of the padawans bring it and a teapot. And please, call me Miho.”
Liam’s smile was serene as he nodded, placing aside the walking stick, half of its length brassy and mechanical while the lower half was made of pale wood, whittled roughly and sanded by hand. “Tea would be lovely, Miho. Thank you.”
His mind’s eye reached out to the Councillor of War, registering her surprise as it coloured her aura for a moment, before studying the waves of the Force as it moved and flowed around each of the trainees. Fear, excitement, hope, and determination painted a complex canvas of each. As his senses extended further, they brushed across Celevon and Len, smiling and raising a liver-spotted hand as they both noticed his presence as well.
Whilst in the midst of exchanging a somewhat awkward greeting to Len Iode after introducing Ruana — awkward due to the fact that the last time they had spoken, Celevon had been imprisoned for maiming the now-former High Councilor Gui Sol in a ferocious duel, as well as being suspected of training the Sith Arcturus — the Seeker paused, warily searching around as someone else’s senses flooded into him.
In days past, the former War Councilor would have lashed out instinctively. Thankfully, he had long since curbed that particular reaction, spotting the old Jedi waving at himself, Ruana and Len. Whilst all three waved, Celevon took it a step further.
‘Nice to see you again, Master Torun-Urr,’ the Shaevalian-Umbaran returned via telepathy.
-# <@1325033245678637058>
Miho spoke softly to one of her attending padawans. It seemed no matter where she went there was always one of the Twins - though where one was the other was never far - or a padawan or upset dignitaries or or or or.
She shook herbhead with a soft sigh and a laugh. “Please fetch the tea leaves from my office. The one in the cracked jar and my teapot.”
As the student bolted to carry out the small woman’s request, she offered an arm to the elderly Jedi. “Will you sit with me, Master Torun? There is no reason to be uncomfortable while we have tea.”
Nodding softly at Celevon, the old Jedi smiled, accepting Miho’s arm and hefted his walking stick into his other hand, careful not to touch the buttons built into the side. Standing with a soft sigh as he felt the aches throughout his body, he stared blindly past Celevon, saying aloud, “Again? But I’ve never seen you at all.”
He felt a wry smile spread across his lips, as he sensed the mild confusion in those around the other Jedi, and the pang of amusement in Celevon himself. He addressed Miho once more. “Some comfort would be nice. It has been quite awhile, and the roads and pathways aren’t as forgiving as they once were.”
Miho smiled gently and led Liam towards a sitting area that was shaded beneath the arms of an enormous tree. “This is one of my favorite places here at the Praxeum.”
Leading him to one of the may chairs around a large stone table that could have also served as an altar at some point, the small woman took a seat of her own not far from the aged Jedi. The padawan rushed up to the table with some amount of sweat beading on her forehead. Miho smiled and shook her head.
“You didn’t need to sprint, child. I’m sure neither myself or Master Torun are in a hurry, but thank you for the speed you have given us. Please wait by the pillars in case we need something else.”
The Kyataran opened the lid of the small cylinder and scooped a small amount into each cup before slowly filling the with hot water from the teapot.
“Tell me of your travels, Master Torun. Have you found anything exciting recently?” The small Princess seemed as genuine as she normally was, happily spending time with one of her peers. The soft, floral aroma from the cups reminded her of being a child. “My mother made this for my brothers and me when we were children. I hope you enjoy it.”
The elderly Jedi took the cup in hands that trembled faintly. He inhaled the aroma of the tea slowly, studying the floral notes of the scent before taking a slow sip. He smiled faintly, nodding thanks to the young Padawan as he did.
“The Galaxy beyond the Nilgaard Sector is much as it has ever been, at least since I was young. Planets struggle, peoples disagree. Some places seek trade, others fight with one another.” He sat back in his seat, appreciating the comfort it afforded him. “The spectre of war looms across many worlds. This business on Quermia, for instance.” He shook his head softly as he said it, a faint sadness to his features.
“It seems as ever, the few battle over the possessions of the many, and call their squabbles the greater good.” His face eased as he continued, his head tilting in the direction of the Proconsul. “Your forces acquit themselves well on the surface, though, from what I’ve seen. Though I suspect one or two of them may be less than pleased with me of late.”
Turel Sorenn strode between two lines of Sentinel acolytes who were arranged to face one another. “Defenders go to your happy place, guard your thoughts.” The human looked more like a smuggler or bounty hunter in a jacket, undershirt, bandoleer and hide boots than a Jedi Master but his students were used to his unorthodox demeanor. He walked the line, inspecting the “defender” side as he went.
“Attackers, close your eyes, focus on the flow of the Force around you. Feel the ripples made by your opponent’s mind and when you find it, dive in. Find the secret image they are trying to hide from you.”
Several of the “attacking” line extended their hands toward the opposite line as if reaching for something that wasn’t there. A minute or so passed with Turel pacing between the students, giving encouragement and advice to those who seemed to be struggling.
“A cup!” one of the attackers exclaimed as the defender across from her fell to their knees.
“Keep practicing,” Turel instructed, “a Sentinel’s ability to find and protect secrets is our lifeline. It can be life and death for you and your comrades–” He stopped mid-sentence as a smile of warm recognition shot across his face. “–LIAM!!!” He started to run over to greet the elderly Jedi before remembering his duties. “Take a break and we’ll switch sides when we resume.”
He strode across the yard and ignoring all else, extended a hand in greeting to Liam.
<@1325033245678637058>
The Governor of Kaal was, as was becoming increasingly common for him, late to arrive. The Kiffar had been doing his best to avoid even approaching the Praxeum after the Hoth Council had made the decree that he had never properly become a Jedi Knight. Tisto’s feet shifted even in the moments where he was standing still and he couldn’t help but look around nervously. Still, the War Councilor had appeared at several of the events he had thrown in the town he was supposedly in charge of. It would be wrong not to return the favor.
-# Damn its warm in here. Lets hope I don’t get sent her permanently.
Liam smiled warmly, continuing to gaze faintly to the left as he reached out and clutched Turel’s hand with his own. His paper-thin skin was nevertheless warm to the touch.
“Ah, Turel. Or should I say, Master Sorenn?” His voice held a note of subtle pride. “It is so good to hear your voice again. Tell me, how have you been? It’s been a long time.”
Turel gestured at the Sentinel acolytes dispersing for their break, “training the next generation of SeNet operatives, trying to stay out of trouble and raise a daughter.”
“A daughter?” Liam asked, a note of pleasant surprise to his voice. “I congratulate you. That must be a rewarding endeavour.”
His head tilted toward the training field, and the Sentinel students therein. “Your pupils seem to be taking their lessons well.” He gestured to the Proconsul in deference. “Miho, would it be alright if Turel should join us? Provided he has the time to spare.”
The small Proconsul nodded with a smile and gestured towards the waiting padawan who ran off the get another cup. “Please, Master Sorenn. I have heard much of you since I came to be here. But, surely the tales pale in comparison to the stupendous reality?”
She smiled up at the man, gesturing to one of the open seats. “I’m sure you have many stories just like Master Torun does and I would live to hear them all.”
The Seeker shook his head, highly amused at the antics of the elderly Jedi before he turned back to <@259516016554409984>. “My apologies, old friend. War-honed instincts are hard to ignore, as I’m sure you understand… and when I feel someone sensing me or touching my mind, I’m even more wary of trouble, even here.”
Behind him, the Pantoran in casual garbed coughed pointedly, amusement coloring her features.
“Oh… Sorry, dear. Colonel Len Iode, meet Ruana Suoh-Werd'la, my daughter-in-law,” Celevon smiled, gesturing between the two.
“Nice to see you again, sir. It’s been a while, though we only met in passing, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t remember me,” the Weapons Specialist explained softly, extending her hand. “I’m Yuki’s youngest daughter… adopted, obviously.”
Turel made a passing glance at his class, who were enjoying their break, and took a seat. “Oh I’m sure I could never live up to the stories,” he demurred with a slight grin, “unless the acolytes are asking then its all true and then some.”
(Responding to the direct statement before introduction) “No trouble, I understand on a soldiers level.”
Following Celevon’s gesture of introduction, he nodded politely to the young woman. He shook hands with Ruana and smiled.
“Of course! A pleasure to see you again. How has your mother been? I’ve seen some reports cross my desk but nothing from her directly.”
The Mercenary smiled, dark blue eyes practically twinkling as her father-in-law glanced over to see what Artemis was up to. “That’s fairly typical of mother, though she has been well thank you for asking. Last I heard, she was traveling to gather more materials, forced into a delay between experiments. One of my sisters would probably know more details.”
The Pantoran jerked her head to the side, having seen a flash of reflected sunlight in her peripheral vision. “Father! Don’t teach others your bad habits,” Ruana abruptly ordered, having spotted Celevon spinning his kerambit in his hand before catching it repeatedly.
The man grumbled, returning the beskar blade to his belt.
Miho gave the laugh somewhere between a well-bred lady and a deep bellied guffaw as she covered her mouth with a well-manicured hand. “Oh, I’m certain that is absolutely the case, Master Sorenn.”
The Padawan came back with a third cup and set it before the small woman.
“Thank you,” she murmured as the Padawan retreated back to her place beside one of the pillars. A small scoop of loose leaves, hot water and then the cup was gently moved to sit in front of the third member of their group. “I am grateful to you for helping train our recruits, Master Sorenn. It gives them something to look forward to every day.”
She gave the man a slightly deprecating smile. “It’s hard to take pride in your teacher being my size.”
There came the reverberating sound of impactive strikes being landed in quick succession against a punching bag, each one stronger than the last. A look of focus burned in the silver gaze of the newly appointed Knight Commander. And she had to admit, the physical training was proving to be a pleasant distraction from her thoughts, at least for the time being.
Pausing for a moment, Syrena turned to her beloved D-0 droid with a smirk. “Hit the music, yeah? And cue the lights, it’ll help keep the energy going,” She laughed quietly, though was still far from being tired. Somehow, this always helped with training. In response, the droid nodded it’s cone-shaped head eagerly.
A vibrant array of rainbow colored lights suddenly flashed through the darkened room as the droid’s spherical form began to rotate in a mirrorball-like fashion, followed by the deep bass of thumping music also emanating from the droid.
In response, Syrena’s very movements shifted to being more acrobatic with her strikes against the training dummies. Balancing on one hand, her other lashed upwards in a sharp punch, aimed towards the kneecaps of one of the training dummies. Her form twisted suddenly in a forwards flip, as she rose back to her feet. Syrena begun to weave in a series of quicksteps, a backspin turning to a sweeping low kick, a headstand becoming a launching point for an aerial strike.
One finished, she paused, catching her breath with a satisfied look shimmering in her silver gaze. Now that was all left to do would be to apply her skillset in future missions alongside her fellow Knights. After taking several long sips of water, she wrapped bandages around her knuckles and released her cascade of pale pink hair from a bun, letting it tumble in soft waves over her shoulders.
Shifting her attention to rest of Praxeum, Syrena raised one hand in a friendly wave to those that were there. “Hi there, everyone! Is that tea I smell? I could so go for a cup of brewed leaves right about now.”
Artemis, along with all of the others in the Miscellaneous Weapons training group, had been distracted by the Zeltron’s droid playing music. Shaking her head with a small smile, the Huntress turned back in time to spot a Padawan closely inspecting a gauntlet, a finger holding the activation switch.
The half-Sephi thrust out a hand, calling the gauntlet to herself with the Force. She easily recognized the offended look on the Padawan. “You should be more careful, young one. This weapon fires sharp disks and you were staring down the launching mechanism.”
To demonstrate, she turned and clicked the switch the young Twi'lek had been touching without realizing. There was a sound of displaced air and a thunk, as one of the small disks buried itself three quarters of the way into a thick plank of wood.
Artemis turned back, seeing the Padawan had paled, as well as the others nearby. She gave a slow nod. “If you were lucky, you would have lost an eye. If you were not…”
She trailed off, not needing to say what the results would have been. The Younglings all took a collective step back from the table that held example weapons.
Thumping music, the thud of fists against a punching bag, the audible gulps and shuffling steps from nervous Padawans, all of these things painted a picture in Liam’s mind as his attention flitted from person to person. He’d drifted off slightly, remembering older days, but turned his attention to the Knight Commander as she spoke.
“Who is that?” He softly asked the Proconsul. “The voice is new to me, as is the presence.”
His attention turned toward the Zeltron as she approached, his head tilting faintly as he reached out with his consciousness toward the ephemeral connections between air around them, the stone beneath, and the seats around the table. He focused slightly on the Force, and one of the remaining chairs slid out to welcome the newcomer, moving as if on its own. He extended an elderly hand as she approached, though his blind eyes remained fixed on the wall to Miho’s immediate right.
Miho smiled slightly and nodded to Syrena. “This, Master Torun, is Syrena Valkar. She is our new Knight Commander.”
The small Proconsul held her own cup out towards the Zeltron with mock exasperation. “An imminently capable young woman. She might even have my job one day if I’m not careful.”
Her hands flicked quick signs at the Padawan attending her. Just bring the rest of the cups, please. We might need them at this rate.
“Please join us, Syrena. I doubt Masters Torun and Sorenn wouldn’t object.”
“Not at all,” Turel turned toward Syrena, “yes please join us.” The Sentinel took a sip of his tea. “Our fearsome Knight-Commander is used to humoring the elderly…she has to deal with Edgar after all.” He smirked at the jab toward his longtime friend.
Pausing to more closely observe the area and those who were present, her icy silver gaze shifted towards a female half-Sephi whom Syrena could recognize seeing before at other social events. Watching as she cautioned a young Padawan, she tried to hide her amusement at this, before continuing on her way.
The elegant line of her eyebrow arched in an expression of mild intrigue as a chair slid her way. “Ahh, don’t mind if I do,” She said with a soft sigh as she took a seat, giving herself a rest after the long workout. Syrena gazed up, greeting the familiar face of Miho along with the older white-haired Jedi with a relaxed smile.
“Master Torun, a pleasure to meet you,” She began to say. “A Jedi, I presume? I am… new to the Order myself. For the longest time, I’ve always identified as a Force Disciple but… Time for a change of pace, I suppose,” Syrena admitted. However, she realized that despite delving deep into the teachings of Belth Allusis, there was still much to learn when it came to being a Jedi.
Her gaze next shifted to Miho in amusement. “Ah, you flatter me so,” She couldn’t help but say with a soft laugh. “And I must say, as trying as it is at times I’m sure, you do your job impeccably well, Proconsul.”
“Edgar? His reputation proceeds him, from what I’ve seen,” Syrena began to next say to Turel, glad to be in the company of the other members of Odan-Urr.
A Padawan approached after Miho’s command was issued, setting down another array of cups around the table. The swirl of steam rose from each one, followed by a fresh herbal smell reflecting notes of meadow blossom and balmgrass. Syrena took a small sip of the tea, admiring the blend of flavors, before gazing at the rest of table in curiosity.
“Now, how about a tale from someone? A story of a cherished memory, or even a mishap… Whatever it is you may care to share.”
Quickly growing bored, and with Ruana suitably distracted by watching her wife teach, Celevon gave Len a small nod and wandered off whilst the Colonel smirked.
As he had been bade (read: commanded), the kerambit stayed sheathed. Whilst flipping the blade in his hand or spinning a throwing knife between his fingers tended to work for an intimidation factor, the Shaevalian-Umbaran mostly used it to help himself think. Or, in cases of past Council meetings, alleviate his own boredom via distraction.
Spotting a Padawan standing off to the side, appearing as though they’d been recently lectured — the annoyed scowl was rather telling in many students — by an attending Master, Celevon stopped to observe as the teenager of indeterminate gender began spinning a bokken through a sequence of manuevers. The Seeker watched two attempts, one where the teenaged Padawan knocked it out of their own hands, the other where they accidentally struck themself with the flat end of the blade and dropped it.
Giving a slight nod to himself, the Adept moved toward them to lend aid, even if it was only a small bit of advice that had helped his own daughter with sword forms.
“You’re gripping the hilt too tightly,” Celevon spoke up, unfortunately startling the Padawan into dropping the wooden training lightsaber. “My apologies,” the man continued, summoning one of the unused bokken from the stand whilst the younger teen picked theirs up.
Using one of the bokken was a better idea that drawing his Sith Sword; many of the Knights and Masters in attendance gave him more than enough disapproving looks for merely carrying them, let alone utilizing them.
Rousing himself from his thoughts, the Adept barked the command word to assume ready stance. His lips curled into a small smile of approval. “Perfect stance, but your grip is too tight. It makes it more difficult for flourishes, yet easier to knock from your grasp.”
Celevon moved to stand at the side of the Padawan to demonstrate.
The Shaevalian-Umbaran could feel the disapproving stare of at least one of those nearby, but continued to ignore it, instead focusing on the humanoid he was teaching.
“There, see the difference?” Celevon asked after the Sephi spun the bokken, this time managing to complete the sequence without accidentally striking themselves. “The grip you were using before was more appropriate to Shii-Cho or Djem So, only you were holding too tightly to the hilt. That should help the difficulties you’ve been having.”
The teenager gave a final flourish, then tucked the bokken at their side, as though clipping the lightsaber on their belt. Then, the Padawan gave a bow. “Thank you for the advice, Master…”
“I’m not a Master, but my name is Celevon,” the Seeker replied gently, giving the teenager an approving smile. From the widening of their eyes, it was clear the androgynous youth had heard of him. He would rather avoid that, whether it was due to a philosophical difference from some prejudice on part of the teenager’s mentor… or politically, as the youth bore some resemblance to a member of at least two of the Noble Houses. “Regardless, you’re quite welcome.”
With that said, the Shaevalian-Umbaran gave the Padawan a bow in return, then continued his wandering of the training grounds. Though, that didn’t stop him from throwing a wide smile and a mocking wave at one Master in particular that hated his presence and frequently complained about him to the Council.
Edgar stared at his long-time friend and raised a glass for the Knight Commander. Taking a moment he addressed the table “Ah Turel I would have you know that I’m only a minor thorn in the side of our leadership these days. I don’t think I could ever be a crazy person from when you were in charge. I’m quite comfortable splitting my time between Solyiat and the Knight’s headquarters” Of course though it’s good to have you back home and hopefully, you stay a while this time too.”
Edgar noticed Syrena’s ear perk up and he seemed to have her attention. Edgar thought “Ah she really is that eager to hear some old war stories. Hmmm but which one to bring up? Oh I know … “
“Hey Turel remember that one time we were on a very simple job and you were adamant I stay back and watch the security feed cause you were afraid I’d blow our cover”? Edgar’s drink spilled a little as Syrena seemed to lean into the table a little too rough to make sure she could hear what I was saying, Smiling at her Edgar turned back to Turel who looked a little blushed now. “Would you care to tell the group what happened on that ill-fated mission? <@185939710005215232> <@607619766752116771>
Turel laughed, “okay okay. How’d I know you’d bring up the Nar Shaddaa job?” He stopped to take a sip of tea before beginning the story.
“So we infiltrated a high end burglary outfit, real professional guys and gals. Slicers, safecrackers, con men, just like the holos.” Turel waved his free hand for emphasis. “The job was to basically rob some cartel boss’ swanky condo. He had an entire safe room connected to his bedroom. Ed and I were really there to get some crucial intel datapads out of the vault and plant some evidence that this boss had betrayed his boss. Anyway this place was heavily guarded with cameras and everything. I had the bright idea that less people going in would be easier to avoid detection so I told Ed to watch the cameras and come out guns blazing if things went south.
So things are going well and I slip past the guards to get to the vault. I got the intel and started cleaning out the vault which was full of these big bags of spice. Not the cheap stuff either, like high grade spice. The safe cracker and I started moving these bags out of the vault to what was supposed to be a laundry chute leading downstairs to a staff area so we could collect them later. Well I dropped the first bag into what I thought was the chute, turns out it was an air vent.”
Turel stopped to look at Edgar’s reaction to the climax of the story. “The bag tumbled through the air vent and landed on the lower floor right on a guard’s head. I think it straight knocked him out. Ed was on cameras he can tell you the details. Suffice to say the job went very loud after that and we had to basically fight our way out while carrying duffle bags of spice.”
Edgar listened intently to Turel retell one of the most complicated missions he ever had and also came to realize that almost all of his exciting missions were when he teamed up with his old friend. As Turel shifted the story to him Edgar quickly relived the moments and just instinctively shook his head.
“Well as my dear partner has already mentioned this mission had the potential to go sour quickly and as much as I was initially insulted at the simple assignment I reluctantly agreed to it.
Look, I understand that I can potentially escalate a situation a little too much and this was an important mission. This was supposed to set this guy up for a larger operation but things didn’t go that way.”
Edgar spotting a waiter ordered a round for the group and continued. “So as I was watching I was tracking each guard’s movements and doing my best to relay real-time information and it was very boring but I got the hang of it. Just in time too when then popped the safe I had them all down.
There were at least a dozen guards and the 2 that I was most worried about were posted up near the main hallway. So we were golden. I reported the guard’s positions and movements to guide them through the patrols on the way on the way to the chute. Which they evaded everything like stars”
“Once I gave them the green light it was a simple run to the end of the hall and start dropping the loot into the chute.” In a split second, I took my eyes off them and confirmed the cost was clear in the drop zone. I looked back just as our dear team leader threw the first bag down the air vent. I luckily stopped him before he threw in the second bag as I watched in horror as this guard got knocked to the ground by a heavy bag of spice that hit him in the bac of the head.”
Instinctively Edgar put his face into his hands and softly said “ The guard’s partner and I both had the same shocked and confused face as we were trying to process what we just witnessed. Of course, within a couple of seconds, the alarm was raised, sirens screamed to life and every armed mercenary on the planet poured into the building, and I wish I was joking about that.”
Cracking a smile and catching Turel’s own half-embarrassed smile back to him Edgar finished the story “I’ll be honest from my vantage point I was safe I was far enough away with the getaway vehicle I could have been out of there and it took me a good minute to process the past words of you have to stay here cause you’ll mess this up and should I go in and save the fools from Turel’s super spy skills” Chuckling “ Over course I went in I had to save him so I can make sure he won’t live this down for a very long time.
As he finished up the round he ordered arrived and Edgar raised his glass “Turel, welcome back old friend it hasn’t been the same without you.”
“Ah, robbing a cartel boss? Now that is certainly something I can get behind,” Syrena commented with a smirk at first, when Turel continued the story. She was all too familiar with their unsavory types, given her long history living in the lower, more crime-ridden districts of Coruscant. And there was a part of Syrena that couldn’t help but feel content in knowing she was in the company of those willing to go after them— even in the form of robbing them of their own blood money.
She instinctively leaned in closer with her head resting against her hand, silver eyes shimmering with pure amusement at the tale and a smile playing on her lips.
“Sounds to me like those bags of spice sure came in handy… At least when it came to knocking em out on a physical level, and in ways of intoxication,” She couldn’t help but say with a laugh. “Never thought that’s something I would say before… Spice being useful, in a mission. And who knows how many more adventures await us all in the future? I suppose only time will tell…”
The small Kyataran sat quietly with her tea, listening to Turel and Edgar regaling the young Knight-Commander with tales of derring-do and sometimes less than heroic characters.
She was happy to see so many of them gathered together. The Praxeum had been quiet after midwinter. The chill of the mountains, the feeling of anticipation of the students and the masters. Miho, herself, had spent more time at the War tables than she had doing much else. She had met with her brother a few times, but still had no concrete plans on returning to their homeworld.
She knew that eventually she would have to go home and se what had happened, but for now she was content to spend her time with the members of her Clan, meeting Muz when their schedules allowed. Taking another sip of her tea, she closed her eyes to the taste of it. Problems for another day. Today was a day to be enjoyed.