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Thread: Quenched and Tempered - 10.045/47

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    Complete Quenched and Tempered - 10.045/47

    She kept to the shadows as much as she could, each half breath a painful reminder of her broken ribs, sneaking around the outskirts of the spaceport. The ship she barely remembered flying in on was gone, most likely impounded if the breach at the palace had been traced back to it. Lilaena stumbled over an unseen rock, her ankle giving way. She twisted to catch herself with her good arm, the broken one flopping weirdly despite her makeshift sling, and landed in a heap in the dirt. She lay there for a moment, gasping, and then struggled back upright, the Force damping down her pain receptors so she could keep moving. It still hurt, it just didn't hurt as much as it should have.

    Lilaena stepped onto the duracrete of the enormous landing pad, the ships arrayed on it in various stages of loading or unloading. A freighter took off in the distance, repulsors appearing to ripple the air beneath them in the harsh lights of the 'port. Her bare feet left bloody prints behind her as she staggered toward the nearest ship, a Kazellis light freighter that was rumbling as it's engines warmed up. The doors to the cargo bay were closing up in preparation for takeoff, and she staggered toward it, her ankle bones grinding together audibly. She slipped inside with a gasp, the heavy doors sliding closed and leaving her in relative darkness.

    She felt about, finding shipping crates fastened to the deck, and slowly worked her way toward the bulkhead, between it and another crate. She lay down flat on her back, breathing shallowly. She just needed to gain some strength before looking for a med kit. Just a short rest... Her eyes closed and she fell into dreamless sleep.
    Last edited by Lilaena De'Ville; Mar 25th, 2014 at 04:02:47 PM.



    oh what a tangled web I weave


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    She woke up sometime later to find herself lying in a small, springy cot. She had bacta braces on her broken limbs, plus one around her chest. If De'Ville looked at herself a mirror, she would've been a perfect model for the "before" part of those ads by Xucphra. At some point the treatment would make her look like the "after" part. At some point.

    De'Ville took a look at her surroundings. Pretty spartan. No decorations. Two doors in front of her, one looked like it led to a small refresher.

    The second door was blocked by a sloppy-looking vagabond. His black hair was a mess, sticking out in all different directions like he'd just rolled out of bed. His brown/black eyes were bloodshot and partially obstructed by the steady stream of smoke coming from the cigar in his mouth. What De'Ville could see of his face was nicked by scars which bacta hadn't quite healed. He wore a dark shirt, open at the collar, which looked like it needed a wash. She couldn't see the man's hands because they were crossed on his chest. His black cloth pants had a stain of some kind on the left leg, just below a sewed-up rip. The boots came up to just below the knee and needed a shine. The belt had two dangling holsters and had definitely seen better days. But the two silver, pearl-handled Bryar blaster pistols looked almost pristine.

    "Ya been out f'two days," Aurelias Kazaar's voice was gravely, almost hoarse. "Wanna tell me what th'frack ya doin' in my ship?"

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    She recognized him by the smell of the cigar before she saw him, and awkwardly sat up. Her head swam but she powered through it, her eyes flicking back and forth like a caged animal. He was standing in front of the only viable exit. "Didn't know it was your ship," Lilaena whispered after two tries, her throat too dry to vocalize normally. She swallowed painfully, her scant saliva doing little to soothe her throat.

    She considered tossing him to the side with the Force and making a run for it, but the wraps on her ankle and shoulder/arm made her speed questionable. He'd taken the time to start patching her up. He wasn't going to kill her. Lilaena took a deep breath and winced, her ribs protesting under the brace. "You look like hell, Kazaar."

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    He looked genuinely surprised. For a moment paranoia flashed in his brain and Kazaar almost put two blaster bolts into De'Ville's head. She could have been sent to kill him, but that didn't seem right. Why break almost half the bones in your body just to kill someone? Plus he knew her from somewhere. Just wasn't sure where.

    Kazaar's eyes narrowed, bringing out the wrinkles around them. To him, Sestooine was almost a lifetime ago. It was sure a punch to the face and a broken arm of a Bothan Rebellion Council member ago.

    "Ya got me atta disadvantage." Kazaar admitted, pulling the cigar from his mouth. De'Ville could see his scarred hands. "How th'frack we know each other."

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    She turned her arm over, noting the mottled bruises on her forearm, and then pushed herself off the cot, balancing mostly on her good leg. Good being a relative term, of course. "I met you... a year and a half ago? Sestooine."

    He frowned, and she rasped, "Rebellion. We worked together once." Lilaena attempted a step, and teetered before giving up and leaning back against the cot. "I just... I ..." She faltered, not sure how to go on.

    How the fuck had she ended up on Kazaar's ship, of all things.

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    An ugly look hit Kazaar's face. The Rebels. Even after he'd taken a sniper's bolt to the chest for Mon Razien, they still didn't go all out on the Empire. Something about "we're better than they are" or some idiotic, naive spice dream line. That was before the starkiller missiles and the "Cold War." By the time those got introduced to the galaxy, both he and the Rebellion had had enough of each other. Not that he really gave a flying frack by then. Kazaar had been lucky to only got tossed out, not given to the spice mines of Kessel. Or handed over to Gorgja. Seemed like 'The Kid' gave him one last gift before pulling her own disappearing act.

    "Right. Sestooine." He nodded, halfway remembering. Kazaar still hadn't moved from the doorway. "Ya had shit forra blaster. Did a helluva job blowin' up that compound though."

    Kazaar scratched behind his right ear, then took a puff from his cigar. "Still ain't answered why ya here. How ya got into my ship. And why ya looked like ya been tossed offa cliff."

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    "That's a funny story," she croaked, looking for a cup she could fill with water. "Blind chance, I suppose. Needed a ride away from Hapes, crawled into the nearest ship. Passed out I guess." Lilaena pushed herself back up onto the cot with her good arm.

    If she remembered correctly Kazaar had a bit of a "damsels need rescuing" complex. It's probably why he'd started treating her injuries instead of just opening up the cargo bay in space and being done with her.

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    Kazaar finally moved and reached behind his back. He held out a cylindrical object, small in his hand but big enough for De'Ville's.

    "This lightsaber fall under chance s'well?" His voice had an edge. "Sure don't remember ya using this on Sestooine.

    "If ya were a Force user I'd remember that."

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    I was a Jedi padawan... I am a... Jedi? She kept still, kept her eyes on the lightsaber, and considered her words. But not too long. "I am a trained Force user. I did not have any interest in rejoining the Jedi, so I kept my abilities quiet when I joined the Alliance." She tried to shrug, and winced.

    "You smell like you've been marinating in whiskey and cigar smoke."

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    Kazaar gave an ugly smirk. The expression scrunched the right side of his face and made it appear slightly monstrous. Truth was, no one gave a crap how Kazaar looked (or smelled) and he didn't care either. It wasn't like he was expected to be all gussied up like some fracking display piece. He could dress how he wanted and smell like he wanted.

    "Whatta ya m'fracking auntie now?" He still couldn't remember De'Ville's name. Layla...Leia...Lolly...something like that.

    He was about to ask her another few questions when a *trilling* stopped him and a squat R7-series astromech droid pushed its way into the room. 'Trey,' as Kazaar called it, had a tray on top of its domed head. It had a gelatinous substance, which looked rather bland, vegetables of some kind, and a glass of water.

    "So ya had someone kick ya skinny ass and had t'get the frack outta Hapes. Why didn't ya use ya 'trained Force user' senses t'get ya outta that shitstorm without lookin' like ya went 12 rounds with o'wampa and a kell dragon? They fail ya that bad?"

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    "I cannot say anything that will convince you, and if I tell you what happened to me you certainly will not believe me." She sighed. "Maybe I'm terrible at it. Just give me my clothes back and drop me off somewhere."

    Lilaena snagged the water from the droid and sipped it before setting it back down. She peeled up the edge of the bacta bandage around her ribs, revealing purple bruises that covered most of her torso. "I did get thrown of a cliff though, so points for figuring that out."

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    This time Kazaar's smirk wasn't as ugly as the last one. "It was either o'mountain or one o'those Force-damned palaces they got. Only things that're high 'nough to cause that much frackin' damage. You're o'lucky dame ya know that? Knew one son of o'bitch who broke 'is neck falling off a cliff.

    "Guy deserved it though." Kazaar gave a smoke-filled grin as if he may have been the one who caused the broken neck. "Frackin' asshole."

    He threw a thumb over his shoulder. "Ya can try t'get ya clothes, but might be hard...even forra Force User like yaself. Damn thing was ripped t'shreds so I spaced it. Wasn't even worth savin'. Was o'piece of crap."

    Kazaar nodded to a part of the small room's wall which had a hinge on it. "There're a few clothes in the closet, but might be o'bit big. Ain't like I been havin' that many guests."

    He backed out of the doorway, headed up the hall to somewhere. Kazaar still had her lightsaber. "We're landin' on Taanab in 'bout an hour. Eat up, change an' get up to the cockpit. I'll give ya a ride to the nearest spaceport so ya can get out.

    "Don't get lost...and ya welcome."

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    "Vor entye," she murmured as he turned to leave. Kazaar paused, shoulders hunched under his sweat stained shirt, but then he just walked out. The droid jostled the tray on it's head, and she concentrated - lifting it with the Force until the food sat beside her on the cot. The droid whistled at the display, and she shooed it out of the room. "Let me eat in peace, little one."

    She wasn't sure she could eat, but the gelatin was almost completely tasteless except for a hint of sweet, and the vegetables were surprisingly good. Lilaena ate as quickly as she could, figuring she'd need extra time to get clothes on over the brace keeping her collarbone and arm in place.

    Turned out it was a good thing the shirts were big - she could just button it up over the top of her bandages. The pants were ridiculously large, but there was a pair of women's boots tucked against the back of the closet on the floor. They were the right size, so she pulled on one and laced it up, tucking the cuffs of a her borrowed pants into it. Her mending ankle and the subsequent brace on it would have to do on her other foot for the time being.

    Lilaena walked slowly out, her ankle tender but manageable. Trey was in the passage, and she shrugged. "I'm just glad there aren't any mirrors in here." From the looks of Kazaar, he hadn't been bothered by a mirror in quite some time. She hobbled up to the cockpit, leaning against the bulkhead and watching Kazaar as he smoked and prepared for their exit from hyperspace.

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    Vor entye.

    The words rattled around Kazaar's brain for a while. He hadn't heard Mando'a in a while and certainly hadn't spoken it on a regular basis since he was a kid. His mom and dad would occasionally speak it on Brentaal, but that was only when they wanted to make sure Kazaar didn't know what they were saying. To them, it beat whispering in front of their son. Of course, Kazaar did start to understand it as he got into his early teens. It was hard to live in a place called "Mandytown" and not pick things up. The old grocer sure didn't speak a lick of Basic and it was hard to ask for an uj cake and shig if you didn't know what it meant.

    He sat quiet in the pilot's seat, his arm outstretched to the glass of bourbon above the freighter's controls. Kazaar brought the harsh liquor to his mouth and gulped it down. Tasted good, even if it burned. But it helped get his mind working around just what the frack his passenger's name was. Kazaar still couldn't remember. It wasn't any of the names he'd thought before and it was starting to bug him. It started with an 'L' that he knew. Everything else was mush. 'Trey' probably knew but hadn't piped up. The droid tended to have an attitude at times. Which was why Kazaar kept it around.

    De'Ville finally showed up, looking less like the dead and more like a hospital patient. Kazaar pointed to a small fridge where she saw more water and a few more containers of alcohol.

    "Aw right...spill it." He turned to the control panel, ashed his cigar, and started to bring the ship out of hyperspace. "What's ya name...don't gimme that frackin' look, we only worked once an' I've slept since then. I ain't gonna be sittin' 'round here calling ya 'dame' for the next couple hours. Or 'dame who likes bein' tossed off cliffs.' That'd take too frackin' long."

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    She grinned, newly healed flesh on her formerly split lips stretching. "Lilaena De'Ville." She helped herself to the co-pilot's seat as he reached for the hyperspace controls, not wanting to stumble down the passage during the reversion to real space if she could help it.

    Lilaena reached for a water bottle as the swirls settled into starlines and then those faded into the pinpricks of far away suns. She'd used the words for sincerest thanks in Mando'a, remembering his own background with the Mandalorians of the galaxy. And of course, her own, with the sequestered and slightly more old fashioned Mando'ade from Onderon, descendants of those stranded on the moon Dxun during the Sith wars.

    I accept a debt, it meant literally. For the first time in a long while no unbidden thoughts bubbled up about the wisdom of her decisions or actions. Lilaena realized that such doubts must have been A'na, perhaps even since Terephon when she and Salem had confronted her in the dream. Their actions, designed to bring her peace, had only given the dead Knight a foothold into the real world. Into her.

    She owed Aurelias Kazaar her life, it seemed, and it was the will of the Force that it was so. Lilaena did not question it, though she was sure that the crusty former spy would not try to collect such a debt. Crusty... she wrinkled her nose slightly as she cracked open the bottle and the freighter swung down, bringing the bright orb of Tanaab into view.

    Very crusty.

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    Kazaar angled his ship down into the calm atmosphere, watching as the planet's green meadows and deep blue seas got closer and closer. The best part about Taanab was how alone it was. It wasn't just backwater, it was beyond backwater. No Rebels. No Imperials. Just nothing but fields and quiet. He smirked to himself as he passed over the capital of Pandath. Beyond backwater.

    "We ain't stopping here. I gotta drop m'crap off at home an' check o'couple things." A puff from his cigar as the ship's flight straightened. "Get'cha a transport inna bit."

    The only issue Kazaar had run into was a pirate gang which raided farms from time to time. They hadn't killed anyone, but did extort creds from the local population as a tribute. No one knew where they were based, but Kazaar had a sneaky suspicion it was somewhere on planet. The part he couldn't figure out is why the big ag companies didn't try to hire mercs to keep the pirates away. It was possible the pirates were so under the radar no one at the capital had noticed them yet. It wasn't like the group of idiots was about to start Battle of Taabab II, but at some point someone was going to do something about them.

    It took the two about a half-hour to reach Kazaar's home, although De'Ville saw it more as a ranch. It had a one-story house with a small, rectenna dish on top. Flat roof, with a lip which looked like it could be a sniper's perch in a pinch. There was a fence signaling the end of the property line, a dirt road, a storage shed, and a landing pad where Kazaar's ship would go. Behind the house was a smaller grassy field, sparse trees, then a short cliff drop to a river.
    The fields in front of the home had a few crops and, to De'Ville's surprise, two nerfs grazing in a grassy field. The animals seemed oblivious to the ship landing, although they didn't go near the pad at all.

    Kazaar shut down the ship and stood up. He grabbed an Imperial repeater rifle and a wide-brimmed black hat from their perches in the cockpit. "Keep an eye on things 'Trey.'" Then he strode out of the ship and into the clean, cool air of his ranch.

    "There's o'bacta tank inside." He pushed the front door open and led De'Ville into the house. The room was almost empty except for a table, a viewscreen and couch, a battered chair, and a fireplace with a mantle for weapons. This was where the Imperial repeater went, although De'Ville spied a T-28 sniper rifle. The walls were mostly bare expect for a blue banner with the yellow dagger skull of the True Mandalorians, a holo picture of a young boy, who had Kazaar's eyes and hair, and the banner of the
    SC Votrad Spacers.

    Kazaar pointed to another doorway. "Tank's in there. If ya wanna dunk, head on in."

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    Lilaena limped after Kazaar, the door closing behind her. It was sparsely decorated, unless you counted the wall of weapons, but she withheld comment. She was not one for external frippery and would not judge anyone else who also chose to live minimalistically. "I think I will." She turned toward the door, and then paused. "Thank you again."

    He grunted, and she located the bacta tank, an interesting thing to find in a civilian home. Closing the door, Lilaena carefully unbuttoned the borrowed shirt and peeled it off, draping it carefully on the control console for the tank. Belt, pants, boot, everything was folded and placed to the side except for her underwear. She clambered up to the top of the tank and sat on the edge while she started removing the braces Kazaar had placed on her broken bones. Bacta was a miracle substance, with various ways to apply it to an injury or illness, but bones were still something that required a little more time to heal. He had done a good job setting the breaks, and taking off the braces left her feeling weak and vulnerable. She sealed the oxygen mask to her nose and mouth, and slipped silently into the pinkish goop.

    She concentrated, the Force swirling around her in the tank and outside the tank and inside her body. The broken bones were obvious signs of trauma that a youngling would have been able to detect. Lilaena dug deep, thinking about how it had felt to excise A'na from her psyche, her strength growing at the memory. She held onto her emotions, channelling the Force like a whirlwind into her damaged parts, the broken ends of bone reaching for each other, painfully knitting together...

    Lilaena bobbed to the top of the tank, gingerly pulling herself out. Her collarbone and arm felt weak, but sound enough to put her weight on. She wriggled onto the grate, excess bacta dripping off and back into the tank as she pulled off the mask. Descending to the ground, she rinsed off in the warm water shower next to the tank, stripping off her soaked underclothes and wringing them out before using the Force to complete the removal of water from the fabric.

    She dressed as quickly as she could, lacing up the boots tightly over her weaker ankle for extra support, and made her way back into the sparse living room. She had no idea how long she'd been in the tank, but from the look of the sun outside it had been less than an hour. "Kazaar?" she called, looking closer at the weapon racks.

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    There was a *whirring* sound from somewhere and the viewscreen near the fireplace suddenly turned on. De'Ville turned and saw it was showing a holo-feed of the land outside the home. It took her a minute to realize it had to be the R7 droid 'Trey' who put it on from his station in the freighter. She supposed that was what Kazaar meant by "keep an eye on things." Monitor security, show possible threats when needed.

    Kazaar was standing out beyond the porch, his hands at his sides. He had a cigar in his mouth and his brimmed hat was low on his head. Kazaar had also put on a jacket which went down to his mid-thigh. Mostly covered 'The Twins' in their holsters.

    He wasn't alone. Two humans and green-skinned Verpine, which appeared to be missing one antennae, stood in front of him. There was a fourth person in a speeder up the dirt road. The mangled body of an old man was at Kazaar's feet and De'Ville could see smoke coming from a broken section of fence near the crops. Looked like a speeder bike of some kind had smashed into the fence and blown up. The old man must have been thrown from the impact.

    "Ya wanna tell me," Kazaar's voice had a harsh edge, "What th'frack ya bishwags were doin'!" It wasn't a question.

    One of the humans, a fat man with a bandolier across his chest and a blaster at his side, spoke up. "Sowwy man. We didn't think no one was home."

    Kazaar shifted his right foot back a step. "Really? Ya assholes didn't see th'Force-damned freighter parked here? Th'frack is ya damn problem an' what th'hell this guy," he pointed at the broken body, "do to you?"

    The Verpine answered this time, "Why do you care?"

    "M'fracking neighbor f'one." Kazaar's right hand strayed down to his belt in an almost natural way. "Helped m'build this place too an' didn't ask a buncha dumb questions."

    The three others stared at each other and the fat man spoke. "Sowwy. But not your business."

    That earned a sneer. "Ya outta ya Force-damned frackin' mind? Guy was headed my way an' ya blow his damn bike up so he ends up on my land. Ya think it ain't my fracking business? My land. My frackin' rules."

    The three others just shrugged. "He wouldn't pay," the Verpine offered, hoisting his blaster rifle. "Chose to run. Owed us food and 'protection.' Creds you might have."

    "Might have creds. Might not." Kazaar's tone had strangely gone matter-of-fact. "Why'd I hafta give it to you chuff suckin' chakaars? What if I ain't interested?"

    The trio laughed. "We convince well." The fat one's cheeks were still bobbing up and down.

    Kazaar shot him first through the neck. The fat one gasped and fell. Another blaster bolt left the Verpine with a smoking hole in its chest. The third one was able to get his blaster out but hit the ground with most of his head missing.

    Three shots. Five seconds. He hadn't even dropped his cigar.

    The speeder the three thugs had ridden in was already headed to the gate and down the road. Kazaar kept his blaster out just in case but the men he shot were now corpses.

    He smirked. He'd stepped in it now...
    Last edited by Aurelias Kazaar; Mar 18th, 2014 at 06:51:18 PM. Reason: Spacing. Writing on iPhone is hard.

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    Lilaena stepped out to the edge of the porch and shaded her eyes against the sun. "Friends of yours?" she called out to Kazaar where he stood with the three bodies. She started walking out toward him.

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    Aurelias Kazaar's Avatar
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    "Hell no." Kazaar went to the bodies and started going through their pockets. "Knew 'bout 'em. Never seen 'em."

    They didn't have much equipment. Cheap, crap blasters and a few creds. A couple of vibroblades too. No real identifications or orders. Except for a map of the surrounding farms. "Some pirates been doin' raids around. Frackers started on one side o'the planet an' finally made it out here. Ain't been hittin' major cities, just smaller farms here'n there." He held up the hand-drawn map. "Looks like these sons of bitches were goin' up to every ranch an' farm out there t'try to get some sorta tribute. Make 'em look like a bigger group than they actually are. Kinda smart in o'shitty way. Lotta folks here still remember those pirates that Calrissian dealt with b'fore Endor. Frackers preyed on that fear t'build up their rep."

    De'Ville had joined him at the bodies. Kazaar pulled a bloodied jacket off the fat man, strode to the old man's mangled body and rolled him on his back. It was an ugly. De'Ville could see just part of a skinless face before Kazaar dropped the jacket on him. "These assholes ain't gonna wait 'round forra response. Don't matter how words gets out. They're comin' back...prob'ly t'try to make some kinda frackin' statement o'power. Bad 'nough they had t'kill a guy, they lost some o'their own. Gotta hit back or folks might start thinkin' 'bout standing up for themselves.

    "I can have 'Trey' take ya to Pandath." He smirked and started sauntering back to the house. "I'm gonna wait f'them to come 'ere and skin every last one o'those sons of bitches alive."

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