Galaxy's Edge Space Bar

[Terenia]

Tamora presses her lips together in a thin line, and for a moment it looks like she is going to say something cruel, but then her shoulders slump and she sighs.

"Tell Teresa that I miss her," she murmurs, looking down at the box rather than at Myitt.

[Myitt]

Myitt swallows, nodding.

"Yeah, sure," she says softly, feeling an uncomfortable knot start to churn in her stomach. "I'll tell her."

She glances at Illim. "Come on, let's get the heck outta here," she says, all the bravado gone out of her.

[Terenia]

With another sigh, Tamora turns away, mumbling another thank you, and makes her way down the ramp. She pauses when she reaches the gravel of the shipyard, glancing briefly behind her before turning her attention to finding her own ship, her own Yeerk, and whatever future they will be able to make for themselves as exiles from the Empire.

[Darth Revan]

Parker replied, "If females aren't allowed the same freedoms, I'm surprised they let her join." He shrugged and nodded toward the rifle slung across Zoshonel's back, "So you get any better with that thing?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

~Ossanlin~

Ossanlin trots up the ramp and turns to the small equipment room, not much more than a locker really, and commands the door to open using his security clearance.  He softens his tone somewhat, perhaps it had been a bit too commanding.  Some individuals responded better to a lighter touch.

<Serid, I do not believe you need shielding.  If you are strong enough to withstand Imperial Yeerk captivity and remain sane, you are strong enough for nearly anything.  I believe that strength could make a great Warrior in you, even a commander, though that is almost impossible without your natural form.  You are an Andalite, but our people will see a human, no matter the mind.  And if they can see the Andalite, they will see little more than someone to be pitied and mourned.  A commander must have the full faith of his Warriors, and I am sorry to say that most of our people would not give their faith to someone with the appearance of a human.>  He glances back at Serid with his main eyes, attempting a comforting look.  He had grown so used to his calm mask of command that the look is somewhat difficult to muster, especially when speaking with one of his charges.

<I hope to remedy that situation, I truly do.  But even if I cannot, and you meet or exceed my expectations of you, I will do everything within my power to add "Prince" to your resume.  Of course this is merely circumspection...my expectations are difficult for many to meet, I merely think that your experiences might give you what it takes to meet them.>  He smiles a bit with his eyes before turning them back to the weapons locker.  He doesn't have many spare Shredders left...no one really understood why he traveled with so many.  Of course if his Warriors knew what the bar was truly like, they would insist on a guard contingent amongst other things.  He reaches in and takes out a handheld Shredder with its holster.  He also removes a standard Andalite transponder and an ARC.  He pulls a belt from one of his spare battle-harnesses and turns to Serid, proferring the belt and Shredder holster in one hand, and the ARC and transponder in the other.

<The Shredder is standard issue, so is the transponder, the ARC is a fairly new piece of equipment, it is a high-performance handheld computing device that has many uses, most of which are designed to make field-deployment more manageable and more efficient.  You don't even need to remove it from its holder, it has a complete thought-speech interface.  The ARC holder and transponder pocket have been slightly modified to fit the belt, but I do believe that actually makes it a tad more convenient given the current circumstances.  The ARC does have a short-range communicator, but communications over significant distance, specifically those that make use of Z-Space, will require you to transmit and interpret through the transponder.>

Ossanlin suddenly looks up, as if looking through the wall of the ship, and his eyes tighten.  A few seconds later, a rumble reaches his ears like that of distant thunder.  That very distinct feeling had been some sort of space-time anomaly, he has little doubt.  He files it away and turns his attention back to Serid.  Whatever it had been had passed, still he decides he'd look into it later, Serid is who he needs to focus on right now.



___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ______________

~Rathien~

Rathien grimaces as Salem dodges and returns fire.  He jumps down off the branch and springs forward into the clearing.  He stops next to his ship before speaking in a conversational tone.  "Tobias...."  He scans the far forest-line.  "Tobias, I tire of this little game.  First I attempt peace in the bar out of respect and you throw it in my face, then I leave and you bait me by attacking my ship.  When I come to stop you, you run.  I don't enjoy hide-and-seek Tobias.  I think it's time to change the game."

He pats the hatch of his ship affectionately before unlocking the secure system and opening it.  He trots up the ramp unconcernedly and walks straight to his secured locker.  He opens it and removes his precious multi-phasic rifle.  He smiles to himself, caressing it gently, sweetly.  Yes...this might fly in the face of Fate, but he would not allow Tobias to kill him for honoring a higher power.  Tobias needed to die...and once the body was gone, he could destroy the ship...obliterate the Hope Drive...who could know what Thienal might do when he learned that the device of his ultimate suffering had been destroyed.

He shoulders his rifle and walks back down the ramp.  Moving the ship now would be a tad pointless.  Salem's vessel could track its movements.  Its shielding was superior anyway, it could escape Tobias's ship if necessary.  It had been in the past.  He closes and secures the ramp and hatch.  The indicator giving Salem's position blinks fitfully, his ship unable to compute a reliable location at this greater distance.  He smiles...a smile with no mirth, a cruel smile, as he shoulders his rifle and aims it in Salem's general direction.  Oh the heat beam wouldn't be much use, nor the disruptor, not without a precise target, and the sub-sonic and super-sonic slugs would be worse than useless...the light-shot however...

Rathien grins as the gun begins to emit a high-pitched whine, charging the physical slug with anti-protons...only a few, and a strong negative magnetic field.  He sets his feet in a forward, wide stance and leans his body forward as well as he disarms the safety.  A small red light blinks, letting Rathien know the projectile is ready to fire.  He licks a fang as he silently squeezes the trigger.

A positive charge flings the projectile forward like a rail-gun and it passes the speed of light.  All the ambient sound of the clearing seems to get sucked in, leaving nothing but a pure, perfect silence for a half a second before an ear-splitting explosion erupts...one loud enough certainly to be heard at the bar.  Space-time twists around the projectile as it leaves the barrel and a huge gust of air sucks Rathien's long hair forward even as the recoil sends him leaping backwards to maintain his feet.  As the fabric of space-time collapses back in behind the particulate remains of the slug, the force released is explosive and the projectile leaves a circular trail of decimated forest in its wake about ten feet in diameter, a magnetically contained, directionalized anti-matter explosion that is non-present one nano-second, and immediately present the next.  The projectile would fully expend its energy by the time the curvature of the planetoid brought it into space.

The weapon's red light blinks and then glows steady in protest...it would be at least half an hour before the anti-matter light shot could be used again...anti-protons didn't grow on trees after all.  He smiles again, now several feet behind where he had been standing when he fired.  He raises his voice a bit, the sound of a few trees succumbing to the effects of gravity still echoing in the distance.  "Oh Tobias....did you feel that one?"  He switches the rifle to standard disruptor mode and looks around the clearing before walking toward the tree-line where Salem had been, the rifle's butt braced against his shoulder, ready to fire at the first glimmer of life.  Perhaps that infernal AI hadn't set anything up after all...



___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ___________________ ___________________ _______________

~Raile~

Raile removes his arm from Garreth's shoulder, suddenly feeling inappropriate.  The other had engaged the physical contact in the first place, but perhaps it had merely been a gesture of comfort.

"It isn't as if I don't see the wisdom of what you say, Garreth...but some of my arguments still stand.  I have known many people...not Jedi, true...but many people who have duties and obligations.  People who have one person in their lives that means the world to them, and yet they still carry out their duties.  Perhaps their duties aren't so grand as serving the entire Galaxy, but there are soldiers who serve entire worlds that still love and care for an individual special to them.  They don't abandon their responsibilities, but they do not exclude themselves from this type of relationship either.  By your argument, these people should not be able to exist as they do, and yet....they do."

He takes another sip of his drink before continuing.  "I suppose I do not see the harm in relying upon someone else every once in a while.  Simply because someone else can perform a duty does not mean you cannot be competent with it if the time comes.  You certainly have a...worldly view Garreth, but it sounds as though you do not wish ever to rely upon anyone else...that you believe you must do everything and be everything by yourself.  I suppose, when it comes to me, I would rather attain mastery in a few skills, rather than moderate proficiency in many and mastery in none."

He falls silent for a few moments as he feels another sort of odd twisting.  He dismisses it as merely another eccentricity of this place before a deep bass rumble washes over the bar with a strange sort of doppler-effect.  He frowns momentarily before returning his attentiont to Garreth.  This place is decidedly odd.

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Al smiled, "I honestly wouldn't know enough about your species to know what constitutes different. You seem like a pretty good guy to me, at least." He smirked, "Besides, with a name like 'The Myths' you sound like you could be a group of superheroes."

"So, professional swordplay. That sounds pretty impressive. I've dabbled in a few forms of sporting swordplay." He smiled sheepishly, "I'm not exactly championship class, but I can manage. What form do you practice?"


Salem rolled his eyes as Rathien spoke something about "tiring of this game" and whatnot. The hunter certainly did think highly of himself. He managed to make it to the treeline, finally thinking to look back as he ducked behind a tree. Through his swimming vision and what seemed to be the beginnings of a splitting headache, he could see Rathien heading into his ship. He frowned and shook his head. An opportunity? It looked like it. An opportunity for what, though? Maybe to shoot the hunter?

He drew his weapon and aimed in the direction of the ship, but it was too late- Rathien was already emerging, and with some sort of rifle Salem hadn't seen before. He gritted his teeth and began moving sideways, darting from tree to tree. Maybe he could get an unexpected angle on Rathien. His artificial adrenaline-like stimulant seemed to be wearing off- he couldn't afford that. Not now. The crash, coupled with the pain, would probably spell the end for him. He reached into a pocket and pulled out two small pill-like objects- a painkiller and the adrenaline-substitute. He pricked his finger on each one. The painkiller was full, but he'd already used the stimulant once- he'd be lucky if he got enough out of it this time to keep going. It wasn't really intended for multiple uses without a refill.

Suddenly, the world exploded into chaos around him. He'd been too caught up in his thoughts, and hadn't been paying attention- one second, he was hiding in the woods, and the next, it seemed the apocalypse had been called down around him. He was picked up by the air and the force of an explosion and flung effortlessly aside, wood shrapnel and noise turning the world around him into a disorienting blur. He couldn't tell which way was up, or whether he was moving or simply floating in space.

Until, that is, there was a tree. It came up quite suddenly, and seemed to swing out, like a fist determined to hit him. Frightened, he put his arms out to shield his face, but the tree wasn't swinging at his face. Instead, it rudely hit his legs just above the knees. He felt a blinding jolt of pain, and had a sensation of spinning through the air, and of other trees. One in particular seemed to jump up...

He must have briefly lost consciousness, because the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground. He blinked and tried to roll to his feet, but his legs didn't seem to be working right. The left leg ached tremendously, but could take some weight, when he got up to his hands and knees. The right, however, shot pain through his whole body when he tried to use it, and sent him immediately onto his back on the forest floor again.

Broken, a part of his mind was saying. It seemed to be a voice... one he recognized... from long ago... Disadvantage. Take stock; what is the situation?

He looked around himself. The world seemed strangely silent, save for an intense buzzing in his ears. His cloak still seemed to be active; while he wasn't very mobile like this, he was, at least, mostly invisible. His 'glasses' had cracked at some point in the last few minutes, but they still seemed mostly functional; they showed several Illusors in the area around him. It seemed he was right in the midst of Al's trap. One Illusor appared to have been destroyed, but the rest should still function. His gun had somehow wound up tangled in his cloak. It looked okay, but there was no telling if the stabilizing blades had microfractures from the impacts they'd suffered. As they'd been extended, there was more chance of breaking. He could already feel some of the effects of the painkiller in his system, and he was glad of it. He could also feel a strange disconnectedness that he recognized as the onset of shock. He couldn't actually see his body to assess the damage done, but aside from his leg, nothing major seemed to be wrong, though he did hurt in more places than he could count. His internal nanomachines would have their work cut out for themselves repairing him this time. There seemed to be a large cavity through the trees off to his right- that had to have been made by Rathien's weapon.

And there, just to his left; it seemed fortune had favored him and dumped him within feet of a large tree with a hollow at the base. As quickly as he could, he squirmed his way inside, fighting down both the pain and the wave of nausea that followed as he moved.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Rathien call something. He couldn't make out all the words, but the tone was infuriatingly confident. Salem breathed in, deeply, and let it out, attempting to calm himself- difficult with the ****tail of adrenaline and chemicals flooding his system, and the pain threatening to cave his world in, and the darkness creeping into the edges of his vision, but somehow his mind found purchase. He could still end this now.

<<That's a fun little toy,>> he thought-spoke to Rathien, doing his best to echo the Ildari's calm, confident tone. He was surprised by how little his thought-speak voice seemed to waver. <<I think I'll take it.>>

He sent a thought-speak command to the nearby array of Illusors- activate, setting one. The devices began projecting partial holograms- ghosts and echoes and faded parts of images- into the woods. A quick hint of a person might appear to dart from one tree to another, or a flash of color or movement might appear at random, often quickly enough that Rathien might not be sure if he'd seen anything at all. Salem hadn't known what part of the EM spectrum Rathien would be watching, so he set them to cover the full range- for every one visible image, there would be another ten cast across the non-visible spectrum.

[Gaz]

Julian chuckled. "It does sound like some sort of group name. Never thought of that."

Finally it seemed the pounding in Julian's head had subsided.

"It's not unlike the style that medieval knights used for tournaments, but really it all depends on the style of tournament. My grandfather decided to try and bring it back, and it caught on pretty fast. There are professional competitions held on several of the worlds now, and folks who make a decent living off of it. I go for the larger swords myself, not sure I could get my hand around anything smaller. Not comfortably anyway."

After a large gulp of coffee, Julian asked, "So, I imagine you do something for a living?"

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

~Rathien~

Rathien furroughs his brow as the cracking of branches and tree limbs quiets down.  He stands next to the treeline, his rifle still shouldered, only his eyes scanning back and forth watching for movement.  He smirks as he hears Salem's private thought-speech.  "Odd that you reveal your continued life, Tobias.  If you'd have stayed silent, I might've thought you dead.  Certainly an advantage for you, unless of course you are unable to capitalize on said advantage...that would suggest you would not like me to find you...perhaps you took a bit more damage than your tone implies...in which case I don't believe you'll be taking anything."

His peripheral vision catches a flicker of movement, and then another.  He swivels his rifle around and lets loose a disruptor bolt.  It crackles through the air, punching through a tree, but does not cause explosions like the Entroper.  The bolt is intense enough that it continues to cut its way through the forest for quite a long distance before finally losing its cohesion.  Another flash in another direction, he levels the weapon and fires again.  "Up to your old tricks again, Tobias?"  Another flicker, another disruptor bolt carving perfectly cylindrical holes through anything in its way.

He makes a disgusted sound as he attempts to filter out the distracting flickers.  The ship's proximity scanners had lost Tobias's true signal.  Rathien slowly backs away from the treeline...he doesn't particularly like the situation.  "Why not just give up, Tobias?  I can take away your pain, love."  He smiles a little, still backing away slowly, the rifle scanning along with his eyes.  The thought of Tobias getting his grubby little hands on Rathien's precious multi-phasic baby curdles in his head  The rifle wouldn't be as much use in the relatively-close quarters of the forest...it would hinder his ability to move and evade without providing enough advantage.  If his thoughts are correct and Tobias is indeed injured, he should have enough time to stow the rifle again and begin stalking Tobias in a less-revealing manner.  "Always with the hide-and-seek..."  With one last glance he turns around and opens the hatch of his ship quickly, locking the rifle away in its secure, concealed locker again before re-encrypting the entire ship and locking it down again, shields ready to activate at a moment's notice.

He walks back toward the treeline with the flickering images, drawing his Entroper and widening the beam a bit to achieve a greater dispersal pattern.  He leaps up into the tree branches again and starts looking around for hints of Tobias, trying to filter out the holo images....the main problem with filtering them out would be that any one of them might actually turn out to be Tobias.  But if he is injured, that scenario seems unlikely.  He starts looking for tracks or marks non-parallel with and non-perpendicular to the light shot's blast radius.

[Darth Revan]

Garreth looks off into the distance as Raile goes quiet. He mentions, "I too felt that." As the boom sounds, he comments, "It seems their fight has yet to resolve itself." Garreth shakes his head and resumes his conversation.

Garreth sighs slightly through his nose, this may be a discussion that never ends, but it would be rude to dismiss it. He replies, "Those individuals, as you say, are based on a planet. There are groups based in cities in which they stay. They are rooted. We Jedi are not. We travel across the entire Galaxy, sometimes never seeing the same planet twice. We have assignments that take months, some assignments are complete relocations that span years. How fair would it be for a family to be away that long? How fair would it be to constantly move that family? Uproot them constantly from their friends and neighbors to meet new ones; or to never have any for the rest of their lives?

"Another aspect of those you mention: they have shifts of duty. They leave the job and go home. What they do is not who they are. We Jedi are different. We train from infancy to become Jedi. We are Jedi. Jedi is not a job, or a hobby; Jedi is what encompasses our very existence.

"Then there's the issue of the emotional aspect of caring for such a family. Should you trail a Sith, or attack a Sith; and this Sith finds your family. How clearly would you think? How cautiously would you act? From my experiences, guards and soldiers whose families are threatened leave their post, abandon their duty, and rush headlong into danger without thinking twice. Now say that were a Jedi. A Jedi charges toward his family without thinking, crashes into his home and finds them all dead. The emotion poured from that individual not only in that moment, but from the very moment they found their family was in danger, would be immense. The risk of turning from there is just too great.

"See, for a Jedi, a family may sound tempting; but it would be too much of a burden on all parties. Going back to your example, how many of those families are happy ones? How many families of guards, soldiers, and peace keepers are torn because they see too little of that individual? How many families feel ignored because that person's job tears them away so many times? How many children resent their fathers or mothers because they were always away? Then there's the individual that is always away. Always torn between job and family. They're doing their job, yes, but part of their mind is always at home. Worried about how they feel about them being away so long. Then the guilt of having an unhappy family, and the guilt of not being 100% there for their comrades. It's a never ending spiral fraught with intense emotions. That is something a Jedi cannot have in his life."

Garreth takes a drink to break the conversation a moment and moves onward, "I don't believe that everything must be done by only one person. I'm not saying that. I'm saying that you should not rely on one single person for too long. Making that one single person the focal point of your existence. A Jedi relies on his comrades, surely. I rely on all of those I work with. Though I often work with many different people. As I said, Jedi are often reassigned. They are sent elsewhere and then work with other groups, or other people. You then learn to rely on those people; but do not become dependent on them. Another point is that, yes, sometimes a Jedi is sent on assignment alone. Sometimes a Jedi will rarely work with a team. You never know what your assignment will be. If you've relied on others too much for certain aspects of your ability; then when you are alone, that deficiency could mean your life.

"My point is dependency. Rely on others, don't become dependent on them. Stand alone, but work well with others."

Garreth puts his arm back on Raile's back and says with resolution, "Be mindful, not only of your emotions, but also what can affect them."

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

~Raile~

Raile listens attentively for Garreth to finish before replying.  "I do not see the two as mutually exclusive, I suppose we will merely have to agree upon disagreement.  But let me try another tack...I do not know the situation from your time aside from vague historical accounts, but during my time, the number of Jedi was reducing even before the recent...events.  Now it's more important than ever.  We know that knowledge of the Force comes from unique biological sources.  It doesn't seem too far a leap to assume that genetic heredity plays a part in Force sensativity.  It would also explain why the numbers of Jedi were declining...so few ever have children.  Would it not be our duty to reproduce in the interest of our Order?  Especially in my situation, when we've lost so many..."

[KitsuneMarie]

Illim remains still, watching Tamora go. When she disappears from sight, he looks over at Myitt with a heavy sigh. "What's with that family, huh?" he blurts, throwing up his hands. "Always so damned depressed all the time. They need to liven up. I mean, at least Terenia isn't so jumpy, but really. Life'd be better for those two with a... I dunno, emergency mixed drink or something."

He shakes his head, spinning around to face the console. "Honestly, I don't really know why we keep coming here. There's always some trouble or another. Though... I'm glad you came here the day we met," he adds, voice softening at the end.


Serid remains still and straight-backed through his War-Prince's entire speech, although his mind is anything but quiet.

It startles the Andalite nothlit that Ossanlin finds him sane. Certainly he has maintained his understanding of social norms and is capable of sounding perfectly sane... until, of course, one hears him speak kindly of Illim or hatefully of a past commander. The fact that Ossanlin does not seem to mind his new charge's heretical opinions is heartening in a sense, although perhaps just as disturbingly a sign of the War Prince's own insanity.

When Ossanlin mentions even the possibility of Serid becoming a Prince under his command, however, the dark-skinned man cannot prevent his eyes from widening in shock. Perhaps he truly is mad, he thinks. I had been branded someone with little promise. It is why I was sent on that terrible mission. And now... a Prince?

Reaching out to accept the four offered items, Serid takes his time in outfitting himself, sliding the Shredder into the holster and fitting the ARC and transponder to the belt for easy accessibility.

"Thank you for the equipment, sir," he murmurs, inclining his head respectfully. "And... I wish to thank you furthermore for your confidence in me. I am not sure what I have done to deserve such treatment, but I am grateful that you are giving me the opportunity to prove myself. I regret that you are truly the first commander who has." He straightens his back, watching Ossanlin's main eyes with his own two. "I will do my utmost to exceed your expectations, War Prince."

[Myitt]

Myitt smiles faintly at Illim's words, although her thoughts are distracted.

"Yeah," she sighs, leaning forward against the back of Illim's chair, resting her arms above his head. Unintentionally her fingers touch his hair, and she runs a few fingers through it playfully. "Sometimes good things do actually come outta this place."

She glances over at the empty hatchway. "Gives me the crawling horrors, the idea of a dead person telling her sister she misses her," she mutters under her breath.

[Luke Skywalker (Ossanlin)]

~Ossanlin~

Ossanlin watches the expressions cross Serid's face, especially at the mention of "Prince."  He reconsiders the situation again.  Perhaps there was a difference, perhaps a key one, between himself and Serid.  <It is what I expect, Serid.  And I will not proffer any special treatment.  I will expect you to fulfill the roll of a Warrior to its fullest extent.  You will have difficulties that most will not, and you will have to find a way to overcome them.>

He regards the Warrior with his main eyes for a moment before speaking again.  <Serid...I had thought you shared my thoughts and opinions of Yeerks given your experiences.  Perhaps I was wrong.  Allow me to explain my opinions more fully.  You see Serid, long ago I was taught to judge individuals by their actions.  I still believe that this is the correct way.  I do not condemn Yeerks for being something they cannot help being.  They are what they are.  My war is not with the Yeerks...our war, that of our entire species, is not with the Yeerks...it is with the Yeerk Empire.  The Emprie is run by a small group of power-hugry, tyrannical, greedy dictators that squabble as much amongst themselves as with anyone else.  Those who believe in the ideals of the Empire are the ones we should condemn.  Many Yeerks do not support the war as you well know.  Many even sympathize with the hosts who are pressed into service against their will.  These Yeerks can help us, they have helped us, in our struggle to topple the Empire.  Genocide is never the answer, and it is certainly not the answer here.  Once the Empire is gone, there are ways of keeping something like it from redeveloping.  I have worked in tandem with the Yeerk Rebellion on more than one occasion, Serid.  The Electorate knows and tolerates my involvement with them.  Support is another matter, but tolerance is a good stepping stone at least.>

He pauses, allowing the Warrior to absorb the information, before continuing.  <I did not mean to get your hopes up Serid, I hope my words were not misconstrued.  Becoming a Prince is a long and arduous task for most.  I fear I cannot give you advice from personal experiences...a very unlikely series of events coupled with an exceptional head-start allowed me to attain rank very young, but every Warrior I have ever promoted to the rank earned it arduously, and the few I've promoted to Prince have earned their rank ten times over again since receiving it.  I merely meant to put your mind at ease.  I, at least, will not treat you any differently because of your circumstances.  You will have as much chance as any other under my command.  But to have withstood what you had to go through, Serid...that gives you something the others don't have...determinatio n, tenacity, willpower...hardshi p.  You never gave up, if you had, you wouldn't be here now.  You have a greater potential than most, if you put that experience and tenacity to use, to earn rank.  As I said, it is what I expect, and I have no doubt that you will indeed fulfill my expectations.>

He shuts and secures the equipment lockers, scanning his stalk eyes around the Mirage before returning his full attention to Serid.  <Do you have any questions, Warrior?>

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Al chuckled, "Not if I can help it." He sighed, "I know it doesn't sound good to say I don't do anything for a living, but I never really have. Where I'm from, I was a part of Furka. My only real goal was to have fun, and to help others have fun. You'd be amazed at how well that can pay." His eyes twinkled as he laughed, "And more recently, I've been traveling with Salem. He tends to take care of the logistics of things. I help when I can, but it's mostly his show." He smirked, "Of course, the fact that I don't need to eat doesn't hurt anything either."

He ****ed his head at Julian. Something he'd said... "Medieval...? You are human!" he exclaimed after a moment. "Oh, man, that sounds fun. Big swords are awesome. You look like you'd have better control than I do with 'em. I'm best with a Paladinian short sword that's used..." he paused to think, "sort of like a cross between a scimitar and a rapier. It's a little like fencing, but with more emphasis on dodging than thrusting or parrying."


Salem concentrated on steadying his breathing and calming his mind as Rathien spoke, only half listening to the words. The hunter had guessed that Salem might be injured. It shouldn't matter much.

Then Rathien was firing without regard for actually hitting anything. He heard the sound of a shot going through a tree near him- it left a clean hole. So... an extremely directional energy weapon or a high-velocity matter-based slug, probably. Neither explained the force that had rocked the forest moments ago.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his leg shot another wave of pain through his body. This one seemed more distant than the last... he gritted his teeth and pressed his eyes shut. When the pain subsided enough for him to breathe again, he felt strangely cold, and very weak. He didn't open his eyes. Was that blood running down the inside of his right leg? No way to tell for sure through all the pain...

There! He could sense Rathien, almost without meaning to. It seemed he could tell that the 'soul' he was sensing belonged to the Ildari, though how he knew that, he couldn't say. It was... moving away? No! Not after all this! But wait... he was moving closer again.

Salem grinned, in spite of himself. The hunter was going to continue to play this game. He whispered a line from a play to himself in the Atazin galactic language; the strangely lyrical words translated roughly to "Hubris, will you dine with me once more?"

Salem waited until Rathien seemed to be fairly close, then sent a command to the Illusors: <<Activate, setting two, level two.>>  He indicated Rathien as the target and his two grenades placed in the woods as locations. The Illusors began to change their imagery slightly. Now, in addition to the random images, they'd be projecting enough images that a pattern should seem to emerge from Rathien's vantage point. Salem hoped that "setting two" was low enough that Rathien wouldn't have enough information to analyze the pattern, but high enough that he should pick up on it.

Setting two was remarkably low; he was giving the hunter's tracking ability a large amount of credit by assuming he'd even notice. Essentially, the Illusors would attempt to give the hunter the impression that Salem was moving towards or located near the two bombs. They'd display quick flashes of movement, progressively closer to that spot; perhaps a face or a set of eyes peeking from behind a tree; a puff of dust possibly kicked up by a shoe... all while the woods around Rathien continued to flicker with images.

The closest bomb was nearly a hundred yards away; the other, more than twice that. If Rathien took the bait, Salem hoped he'd be able to trigger them with proper timing.

[Darth Revan]

Garreth nodded passively, he relented, "I understand your situation is special; and without the benefit of having the Republic screening processes, finding Force-sensitives will be more difficult. Though I'm sure this Sith Lord will keep the same process open to eliminate or control new Force users. You could implant a spy in his organization that could alert you when they find one; and possibly rebuild that way. We are talking about the entire galaxy after all. Though to stay out of the Sith's spotlight; it could be easier to find a world in the Outer Rim and start a new community where you attempt to breed Force users. The problem with that is that children of Jedi are not guaranteed to be Force-sensitive. You'll then have to deal with sibling rivalries, which involve intense emotions; and that could end up producing more Sith."

Garreth thinks for a moment and shakes his head, "No, there's a reason children are separated from their families before training them. A Force-sensitive family just wouldn't be a good idea. No matter the condition; the risk is too great."