In the Service Of [closed]

[Lady DeVille]

Nar Shaddaa

Lilaena De'Ville, formerly Imperial Stormtrooper no. 1857499237, stalked the shadows of the bounty hunter's moon. The blood of that Force user was still on her hands, and the taint of the Dark side was fresh in her mind. She involuntarily shuddered, then threw herself deeper into the shadows as a man neared her position.

She waited, breathing lightly until he passed, and continued on her way. She did not know where she was going, but she had to get away from the crash site as soon as possible. Being chased by Imps was one thing, being chased because you were AWOL was another. And being chased to Nar Shaddaa was the worst of luck imaginable.

De'Ville pulled at her short hair, still growing out from the shave she had undergone after being conscripted into the Imperial Army. She moved out of the shadows into the flow of pedestrian traffic, her torn and dirty jumpsuit blending in with the riff-raff.

Where am I going? She did not know the answer to her own question, but asked it anyway. Neon lights ahead bespoke a bar of some sort. De'Ville slipped her hand in a zippered pocket. She had a few credits, and needed more. Looking around the bustling crowd she noticed the filth and the ragged clothes and wished she could have crashed in a more uptown area. Not that dirt bothered her. However, she could have used the credits in the pockets of a few richer merchants. Her fingers itched, and instead of picking the nearest pocket, she thrust them in her own.

And regretted it immediately. A scuttling Chadra Fan hit her in the back of the knees as it passed, and she over balanced. De'Ville managed to keep herself from pitching over face first in the mud, but landed heavily on her knees. She got up quickly, and headed over to the neon lights of The Lucky Jedi. She chuckled to herself. Lofty name for such a scummy establishment.

De'Ville ducked inside and was hit by a wall of cigarra smoke. She coughed, but caught herself before she waved her hand in front of her face. On Coruscant she had seen a thousand or more of these dirty little joints, but the smoke she would never get used to.

She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and walked to the bar. Ordering a Sullustian beer from the 'tender, she leaned towards him. The bartender, an older human male, leered at her, but she spoke anyway.

"I trust there's a sabaac table here..?" De'Ville took the beer he handed her and sipped it. She was thirsty, but needed money more than drink. The bartender pointed to the back of the room, and she tossed him a credit piece as she left the bar. Reaching the table, she pulled up a chair. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything, boys?"

The beings around the table looked at her, taking in her dirty face and her torn clothing. A Devorian male sneered at her, but motioned for her to join.

_______


Three hours later, and 1,400 credits richer, De'Ville walked out of The Lucky Jedi. It hadn't been an especially rich game, but rich enough for her purpose. While inside she had determined her next course of action. It was obvious that the Imperials would still be looking for her. It was also obvious that being stuck on a moon full of bounty hunters was not the way to avoid being found. De'Ville hailed a repulsorcab and climbed in.

"The nearest spaceport," she told the driver, and watched as the grime of Nar Shaddaa flew past her window. She sighed. It reminded her of Coruscant. Not the Coruscant she had been born on, but the Coruscant she had lived in -the underlevels of the city planet. Two years she had spent there, until being conscripted by the Imps.

De'Ville rubbed the inside of her right arm where the ISD number was tatooed. And tried to think of other things.

_________


Nal Hutta


Disembarking the interplanetary shuttle, De'Ville looked upon Nal Hutta for the first time. She didn't like it already. It was too humid for her, but she used a Force trick, feeding on her discomfort and turning that energy to a better use. Namely, stopping the sweat from beading up on her forehead, and keeping her body from being affected by the enviroment. Those Dark Jedi at the Imperial Academy, or whatever that Emperor's spawn of a place was called, had been useful in their own way.

De'Ville headed into the nearest bipedal clothing store, and stepped out a half an hour later feeling much better. Her torn and dirty jumpsuit had been replaced by reptillian skin pants and a tight white blouse, and she wore knee high black boots in lieu of her old spacer boots. She had retained the boots, but told the store owner, a nervous Twi'lek woman, to burn the other clothes. And she had retained her weapons as well. Her vibroblade was strapped in its sheath to her right calf inside her boot, and her Imperial issue blaster was hung almost casually on her left hip.

She cracked her neck, and fingered her remaining credits. Turning around, she was nearly knocked off her feet again by another Twi'lek. De'Ville cursed, and automatically turned slightly, chopping the male in the back with her forearm, knocking him to the ground. Her reflexes were her ally, but now they cursed her. Lekku flying, the Twi'lek scrambled to his feet.

"You should not have done that." He showed his sharp teeth to her, and De'Ville steeled herself for a fight that did not come. Instead she was hit in the back with an energy beam and tipped forward, neural pathways in her body fried instantly. Always a stun weapon somewhere nearby... was her last thought as her body froze up on her.

The Twi'lek male stood over her, grinning his sharp toothed grin, and motioned to someone she could not see. "Take her to Shadra, she is in need of amusement."

De'Ville cursed in her mind the men who picked her up, and cursed herself for not seeing it coming. Her jaw was tight, clamped together when her muscles had spasmed, but the lack of motor function allowed a small amount of saliva to trickle out of her mouth as she was unceremoniously dumped into a repulsorcraft. She hit her head and passed into the Void.

[Lady DeVille]

Light... De'Ville blinked her eyes open, her mouth as dry as the Dune Sea, and squinted as sunlight filled her vision. There were blurred shapes around her, and as her eyesight cleared she could see that she was behind bars, and that her weapon's were gone. "Blood and ashes," she cursed, "Where am I now?"

"Shadra the Hutt's palace," growled a nearby voice, and she jerked towards the sound. "And talking don't help." Her cellmate, a surly Chiss male, turned his blue skinned face away from her. She ignored him and walked to the bars, hoping to catch someone's attention.

"Hey, hey!" She shouted at a Gammorrean standing outside, "What is the meaning of this?!" The pig-like alien snuffled a reply, but her brain was too fuzzy to make out the words in its mangled Basic. "Who is in charge here?"

"Shadra, I told you!" The Chiss was beside her, pulling her away from the bars. "And shouting really don't help."

"Who is this Shadra?" She pulled her arm out of his grasp, annoyed that he had touched her.

He sat back down in the corner of the stone cell. "Only the most spoiled Hutt on the planet. You cross her, you end up here, to die for her amusement." The stone walls were dank, dripping with slime and the Emperor knew what else.

"Cross her? But I haven't done anything to a Hutt, I just got here!" De'Ville sat in the opposite corner from the Chiss. The cell's lack of bunks was disturbing. Die for her amusement?

He sighed, "You didn't have to, you attacked her Twi'lek advisor on the street. He had you brought here, I heard the Gammorrean's talking about it earlier before you came to."

De'Ville echoed his sigh. Another day, another dungeon. It seemed like everywhere she went there was some sort of prison with her name on it.

_______


"You there! The female -get up!" De'Ville shook off sleep as the human guard yelled at her. Walking to the front of the cell she stuck her slim wrists out through the bars as he indicated and grimaced as he snapped stun cuffs on her. The door opened, and he allowed her to walk out, but just as quickly slammed it again, turning the key and locking the Chiss inside.

The blue skinned alien saluted from his corner. "May the Force be with you. Believe me, you'll need it." She started to reply, but was prodded forward by the human.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, De'Ville passing the time by counting the torches in the dark hallway. She swiveled her head to get a better look at the guard, but was hit across the back with the force pike he carried. Stumbling, she regained her footing, and stared straight ahead as she walked. Inside, her fury was mounting.

A few flights of stairs later she was once again blinking in the light. They stepped into a large arena type room, the light streaming down from a huge skylight in the ceiling. De'Ville looked around, trying to memorize her surroundings.

There was a platform, or a dias of some sort, in front of her where a huge slug-like Hutt rested. The Hutt had a large gold nose ring in its left nostril, and a silver protocol droid beside it on the dias. To the right and left were layers on seats, filled with Hutts and other life forms, all shouting and talking at once.

De'Ville grimaced. It all reminded her of a nightmare she used to have when she was young, but she was wearing all her clothes this time. The human prodded her forward, and she reluctantly stood closer to the central Hutt, about five feet away from the platform.

She could see a young man in the shadows on the left of the dias, a large chain attached to a collar around his neck. One jerk of a flabby arm, and he was propelled back up on the dias, settling crosslegged in front of his obese owner. Sweat glistened off his muscular chest, and he ran a tanned hand through his curly blond hair. De'Ville felt a flash of pity for his predicament, but it was overcome by her own situation as the Hutt spoke.

"It seems you have angered Sharda," the protocol droid nervously translated, "And she desires you to fight for your continued existance. You have violated the honor of her advisor, and he also wishes your destruction to be painful and -oh my- slow." The droid looked sympathetic, if droids could do any such thing. "You are to battle a monster of amazing strength ..."

De'Ville felt her anger mounting, and knew it was time to act. She focused her energy on the stun cuffs, and they clicked and fell off her wrists. She caught them as they fell, spinning and closing one of the bracelets around the human's right wrist.

Startled at her sudden movement, the guard tried to hit her with the pike, but she ducked the blow and leapt behind him. Grabbing his other wrist she twisted his arms behind his back and closed the cuffs around his left wrist as well. De'Ville held his upper arms, using him as a shield as the other guards around the arena came to life, aiming their blasters at her. The human she held in front of her absorbed the bolts, and she dropped him in a steaming heap in front of Sharda.

De'Ville took up the force pike, and deflected another bolt as the Force enhanced her reflexes. She only knew rudimentary Force tricks, but those she knew, she used.

And, judging from the roar of the onlookers and the faces of the guards rushing at her, she would need each and every one to stay alive.

[Lady DeVille]

The guards were coming at her from all directions, trying to surround her in a circle. They were not all Gammorrean, there were humans and various other bipedal aliens in the group. The circle tightened a little, and a Gammorrean shot its blaster rifle at her, missing her and dropping a guard behind her. De'Ville felt her adreneline pumping as she swung the pike in a circle, scattering a few guards.

Taking the opportunity, she vaulted for the opening, jumping over a man and slamming the force pike into the back of another. He shouted as he fell, jerking from the energy coursing through his body. De'Ville leapt up in the air, throwing her legs into the splits as she kicked two Gammorreans in the head. Dropping back down she spun low, sweeping a dark alien off its feet, then axe kicked one of the Gammorreans again, dropping it to the ground in a squealing heap.

De'Ville took a punch to the jaw, and her head rocked backwards, but she brought the pike down on the guard's shoulder and neck, knocking him down. Turning she felt her arms being grabbed, and the pike was forced out of her hand. She would have cursed, but she did not have any energy to waste.

She grabbed her captors arms with her hands, and kicked up the body of the guard in front of her. Flipping over backwards she threw the two holding her to the ground. At the far end of the arena she could see something glinting, and she used the Force to pull them to her. They were two arm blades, with wicked knife points fore and aft. De'Ville grinned as she caught them in her hands, ducking under a leaping guard and kicking the kneecap out from another as she strapped them on.

She stood up again and was kicked in the face by a smelly boot. De'Ville stumbled backwards, and the human male that was attacking her aimed a balled up fist at her midsection. It never reached her. As his fist neared she brought her forearms together in front of her, catching his hand and slicing it off with the blades. He dropped, screaming in agony.

Stormtrooper No.1857499237 took over, grabbing a head and snapping the Gammorrean's neck wetly as she vaulted up and kicked off another guard. She threw the body of the Gammorrean into another, and it fell backwards under the weight of its ally, pudgy green arms flailing. De'Ville's mind was blank, fighting instincts taking over, and her indoctrination still fresh in her mind. There is no good but the Empire, there is no justice but the Empire. There will be no order but the Empire... Her mind restlessly churned out its litany of lies as she sliced open a guard with her right arm blade. He screamed, entrails spilling out on the hardpacked dirt floor.

De'Ville spun away, cutting a throat and kicking another guard in the solar plexus. He gasped as the air left his lungs in a pop, stumbling backwards. She followed him as he fell, grabbing his uniform and pulling him towards her, meeting him half way with a head butt. He plucked at her neck as she snapped his, then fell limply. Letting go, De'Ville was hit in the back with a force pike.

Blood and bloody ashes! She tumbled forward, exaggerating her fall. From the ground she lay still a moment, and then as the remaining guards stepped closer she raised her arms, and slammed the blades down on two feet. The cheap spacer type boots the guards wore were no match for the sharp blades, and the feet separated from their owners. She yelled obsenities as she rolled back up to her knees, extending her arms and cutting a Gammorrean hamstring. The pig shrieked and fell, grabbing its leg.

De'Ville faced her last opponent, a tall Correllian male. She sneered at him as he advanced, and kicked him in the chest. To her surprise he caught her foot, spinning her to the ground. She fell hard, and he leapt on her, attempting to pin her down. Why aren't they killing me? She wrestled around, cutting his arm as she twisted on top of him. De'Ville kneed him in the gut as she regained her feet, grabbing his head and dragging him up with her.

She turned so she faced the Hutt's dias, breathing hard. She held the razor sharp edge of one blade under the Correllian's chin. He was barely breathing, and holding onto her arms as best he could for support.

De'Ville's mind cleared, and the crowd noise filtered back into her senses with a roar. Blinking, she looked around momentarily, then focused her attention on the obese female in front of her.

The male pet she kept chained was looking away, his chest splashed with blood from one of her kills. Sharda was laughing, a deep guttural laugh that chilled De'Ville. The droid stumbled forward, nearly falling off the dias in its haste.

"Sharda is most pleased!" it squeaked nervously, orange eyes shining bright. "She gives you your freedom! Only, release the man you hold, and all will be well."

De'Ville spat vehemenetly. "All will be well? I have no assurance of this." Oh stars but her body ached now. She adjusted her arms, and the man drew in his breath sharply as the blade dug in harder. "Tell Sharda I'm leaving now. I want my blaster and my blade back. NOW!"

Sharda listened to the droid's titterings, and waved a fat arm, the green flesh flapping in the air. A female slave walked up from behind the platform, scantily clad in a few scarves and a net of some sort. Her pale green skin was pimpled from the cold that De'Ville did not feel. It's cold? On Nal Hutta? The enviro conditioner for this arena must be astounding. She snapped her mind back to attention and watched the girl set her familiar weapons on the dirt nearby. The alien girl scampered back to the platform, her steps light like a dancer's.

De'Ville stepped towards her weapons, dragging the Correllian with her, his feet scrabbling for purchase against the hard packed dirt. She could feel his sense. It was hard and stubborn, but spiked with intense fear. She sighed and let him go, stooping to grab her blaster and vibroblade.

She looked up to Sharda, speaking sarcastically, "I thank you, great mistress, for your generosity. And now I will depart." De'Ville turned, looking for the door out.

A great bellow of a laugh erupted from the dias, and a stream of Huttese made De'Ville face front again. The droid listened to his mistress, and then turned its optical sensors towards her. "Sharda is most impressed with your skills. She is in need of another bodyguard, and offers you the position."

She laughed. They can't be serious. The droid continued, "Nal Hutta is not as forgiving as Sharda, and very unfriendly to those with no money." De'Ville cursed. Of course... her credits were gone forever. She wiped a bloody hand on her blouse, and smiled crookedly.

"Tell Sharda I am grateful for the offer, and I accept."

[Lady DeVille]

Sharda's Palace on Nal Hutta

De'Ville itched in her uniform. She was glad her shift was over, and she was walking back to her quarters in the palace. Palace? More like a heap of bantha dung... It smelled bad, and the humidity was intimidating. Most of Sharda the Hutt's lackeys evidently were not aware what the purpose of the refresher was. De'Ville slipped into the recess where her door was, narrowly missing a glit using Rybet.

It stumbled and cursed at her before going on its way. De'Ville used her code on the door, and found it already unlocked. What is this? She quietly pulled her blaster from its holster, and allowed the door to slide open. She had been on the job for a week, and Sharda had kept her close. Very close indeed. The other bodyguards watched her as much as they watched Sharda, but it had seemed that they were trusting her now. They certainly trusted her instincts after that fiasco yesterday.

The door slid into the recess in the wall, and De'Ville peered around the corner, blaster first. She wished she could use the Force to sense life forms, but it was beyond her capabilities. The first room was clear, and she slipped inside, quiet as a mouse. The small sitting room she occupied was turned upside down, the seating ripped apart by some sort of blade, and the table on its side. There was cushioning everywhere, and the air was thick with dust.

De'Ville crept to the open doorway to her room, the ratty curtain was thrust to the side, and she could see from her vantage point that it had been ransacked as well. Her few clothes were strewn about the floor.

Her back to the wall, she braced herself for the jump into the room. Just as she was about to, however, an alien walked out. She shouted, and simultaneously thrust her blaster into the small of its back. "Stop right there!"

The Rodian paused, stiffening as it felt the blaster touch its body. It spoke in Basic, "What are you doing?"

"What the frell do you think I'm doing? Get on your knees!"

"I must protest my treatment -" the Rodian knelt as ordered, hands where she could see them. "I found your door open and came to investigate..."

"Like hell you did," De'Ville put the blaster muzzle to the base of its knobby green skull.

The Rodian made a protesting sound, "But its true! I beg you, spare me!" As it spoke its voice broke, as if it were about to cry...or do whatever Rodians do when they are scared out of their minds.

De'Ville relented, pulling the blaster away, but keeping it trained on the alien. "Did you see anyone leaving my room?"

Danger? What was -! "No, but," The Rodian half rose, turning as it did so. De'Ville, alerted by her sense, immediately shot the alien, hitting it in the side. The bolt passed through the Rodian's ribcage, killing it instantly. As it fell to the ground, a small blaster fell out of its hand, clattering on the stone floor. De'Ville picked it up, and spoke to the dead being. "Never lie to me."

Rifling through the Rodian's pockets turned up nothing except an amethyst and jade pendant. De'Ville cursed again, and put it in her own pocket. It had been given to her by her mother when she was young, a one of a kind piece of jewelry. The jade had been growing inside the amethyst crystal, and was inseparably interwined with it.

She activated her commlink, calling a droid to help her clean up the mess. De'Ville hooked her arms under the Rodian's shoulders, and hefted him to the 'fresher. Pushing him in she activated the self-clean mode, and stepped out, closing the door firmly. She wiped her hands on her itchy uniform, and looked at the holdout blaster the Rodian had pulled.

"Blood and ashes...Imp design." But I thought the Empire was xenophobic. It really didn't matter. Either way someone was on to her presence here. She looked at the 'fresher. It was really loud.

A small droid beeped at her door, and she let the R2-D2 unit in. Too outdated for use in flight, it must have been reassigned to cleaning duty. De'Ville sighed, Hutts were odd people. The R2 unit quietly clucked to itself as it rolled about the room.

De'Ville ignored it, locking the door to the hall, and entering her bedroom. She replaced the pendant in her small lockbox, angered that she would have to replace the box. It had been blasted open, and the front was mostly slag. She scratched her leg, and then sat down on her unmade bed, pulling her boots off. De'Ville ripped off the uncomfortable woolly uniform, and searched on the floor for something else to wear.

She heard a whistle followed by a series of beeps, and looked up to find the droid had entered the room. The dome swiveled around, as if looking for dustmites. Finding a pair of pants, De'Ville put them on, trying to ignore the droid. It rolled past her, using a claw extension to pick up her underclothes.

"Hey!" She grabbed the items from the droid, and stuffed them in her drawers. The R2 unit rolled to the corner and extended a small vaccum hose, sucking up bits of broken glass. De'Ville glared at it, and reached for a small black shirt. She tugged at her hair, and growled at the droid, as if it were its fault the mirror was broken.

Striding into the other room, she could hear that the 'fresher's cycle was over. De'Ville opened the door. Spotless. Good. Now for something to eat. Something bumped her leg, and she whirled, drawing her blaster. And sighed, her heart pumping hard. It was only the droid.

She scooted the little droid toward the door. "You've been very helpful, but go now!" It rolled out the door, and she followed it out, locking the door behind her. Sharda had an excellent chef...when he wasn't serving amphibians...

[Jeseth Cloak]

Nal Hutta

The heat was getting to him now. Jeseth looked around Sharda's palace and gritted his teeth. This was outrageous! He'd risked his life--and for a very small down payment--only to be kept waiting, and then waiting more. All the while Sharda gorged herself...

He wondered if she'd hold up to her end of the bargain... but if she wouldn't, he wold be prepared to take what was rightfully his. He nearly gagged as Sharda sat there and began to lick her young slave's bare back. His face carefully hid away any expression that may be noticed by her, or her guards. The last thing he wanted was to do was openly offend the slug-thing. He had too many stories about the Hutts' ill-tempered manners, and what fate was bestowed upon those that were unfortunately enough to draw their rath up in some insulting gesture.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth rose up from his seat and tightened his grip around his pike, which he held in an obvious but non-threatening manner. He bowed his head for a few moments and then looked up at Sharda, patiently awaiting her attention. He tired of waiting.

"I believe the times for pleasantries is over, madam. I have other business to tend to, and would like to very quickly conclude our transaction. I've been a guest here for several days now, and you've evaded every attempt I've made to politely collect payment."

The ends of his pike suddenly blared out with a blinding flash, revealing a series of light blades that came together. His face and outfit was coated in a pleasant blue light, not betraying his calm composure to the onlookers and guards.

"I shall now demand it."

A deafening cry filled the room as a human guard's arms both fell to the floor in a trail of smoke. The man moaned and wailed as he waved his now useless appendages in a painful attempt to rise back to his feet. His blaster lay gripped in his hand which lay life less before him and the crowd fell silent, mostly out of fear. The protocol droid turned to Jeseth and began to translate for Sharda as she continued to speak, taking long breaths and pauses between her sentences.

"Oh my... Her highness, Sharda the Hutt, wishes to deliver to you the original amount that was discussed, a generous 230,000 cr--"

The droid was cut off as Jeseth began to speak, his manner distant and cold.

"320,000."

The Hutt yelled out, obviously enraged as the protocol droid continued...

"A generous 320,000 thousand credits... as well as one slave. She..." The droid paused again, not wanting to continue. He looked hopeful, even for something with no facial expressions. He looked as if he longed to be free from Sharda's grasp. She struck him against the wall and groaned. "She hopes you enjoy your life, short lived as it will be, once you leave this palace..."

His wings twitched for a second. He needed to think... He had acted to soon, too rashly--all out of anger!

@#%$...

He realized suddenly how grave an error he had made. It was his last thought as he received a blow to the base of neck, sending him to the ground. Lilaena's fist impacted hard, sending colors exploding into his field of vision, though now his field of vision was the floor and the filth that covered it. The crowd began to go wild, cheering as Sharda laughed at his foolishness.

"Ikauo moun baer justau!"
Lock him away!</>

The crowd around her continued to laugh in all their different tongues, growling, snorting, and gasping.

"Ship-jacker, mi wanu men se wanto boscow!"
[i]The ship-jacker's life is forfeited!


<img src=http://www.geocities.com/jesethcloak/Jeseth_Past.jpg>

[Lady DeVille]

De'Ville walked away from the alien on the ground, flexing her hand after removing the tough leather glove she had been wearing. The creature looked human enough if not for the wings that were now crumpled on the dirt as was the rest of his body. A group of slobbering Gammorreans hustled forward, gripping the male under the arms and dragging him off. She sighed, and ducked behind the dias for a short break as another guard took her position.

In the shadows she bumped into one of Sharda's slaves. It was the man who had been there the first time she had met Sharda. He scrambled backwards, apology and fear in his green eyes. De'Ville stretched out a hand. "Don't be afraid, I'm sorry!"

The young male, her own age it seemed, held out his hands and backed away more, gesturing madly. The protocol droid walked up, joints creaking, "He does not speak. Sharda had his vocal cords severed so he would not complain as much."

De'Ville looked at him, suddenly sympathetic. "Awful creature...to do that to a sentient." She turned to the droid, "Does he have a name?"

The droid nodded, "I believe he went by the name Nathan, but it was a long time ago he was brought here. I could be wrong...I usually am..."

Ignoring the droid's ramblings, De'Ville approached the beautiful mute, sitting by him. She smiled, and he tentatively smiled back, white teeth gleaming in the dim light. "Nathan?" He nodded to her query, and she smiled again. "It is a good name, Nathan. You can tell a lot about a person from their name." She pointed at herself. "I am Lilaena De'Ville, most call me De'Ville."

He smiled, his lips forming her name. She nodded, and leaned back against the dias.

_________

De'Ville returned a few hours later after taking another turn around the ampitheatre. She held out a bowl of soup to Nathan, and he took it, wolfing it down like he would not eat tomorrow. She touched his arm, and he flinched, and looked at her eyes. "Don't eat so fast, you'll get a stomach ache." He grinned, and continued to eat.

She looked at his collar and the large links of the chain which Sharda held. Everyone has their prisons, some are simply more evident. She sat by him until Sharda tired of the dances and tugged him to her side of the dias.

De'Ville got up, stretched, and returned to duty. There were only a few more minutes of daylight left. The winged alien never crossed her mind again. Her mind was preoccupied with confusing thoughts, and so she missed one important piece of information. A bounty hunter had entered the palace, requesting an audience with Sharda. It had been granted for the next day, and in the meantime he was given a room in the palace.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth woke up with a foul taste in his mouth. He moved his tongue across his lips and felt a salty sting.

Then realized he was laying in a pool of some sort--a c'est pool... The liquid in it was green, thick, and rancid. He rose to his knees slowly as the water trickled down from his hands and exploded into ripples across the surface of the calm green vat. He could remotely make out screams.

No, he thought, not screams...

A droid slowly hovered past the only spot in the room from which light poured forth, allowing complete darkness to fall on him for a moment. It screeched loudly and fell into silence as it reached the end of the corridor. His force pike was gone now. He was left with no means of escape, and would have to wait it all out... What else was there left? Perhaps Sharda would simply keep him here till he died of starvation.

Though she wouldn't, and Jeseth knew that well enough. A Hutt would make this a very messy and public matter. He would probably be executed in front of her entire "court." He collapsed back onto his knees, the muck shifting again and splashing up at him. It's stench was almost enough to drown out his thoughts...

Sapphire!

He realized suddenly that she was waiting for him.

If I don't come back in the next few days, she does have sense enough to take my ship and leave, doesn't she? She wouldn't be foolish enough to come here looking for me, would she? Would she...

His mind drifted off. His life was no longer of much value to anyone. Even if he made it out off of Nar Shaddaa by some chance, there would be bounty hunters. That wouldn't do, not for his career. He had to be discrete, and how could he manage that if everywhere he went he was followed. No there was only one way out of this now. he had to kill Sharda...

[Lady DeVille]

De'Ville paced her room that night, unable to sleep, and unable to determine why. After the Rodian she had been doubly alert, but recently she had gotten a little comfortable. Well, if one could get comfortable in a wretched smelling apartment...it certainly made eating interesting.

She looked at her chrono. It was time to get up for her early morning shift. De'Ville groaned, and tugged on her boots, heading out the door. She almost ran over a small R2 droid which was trundling around the hall outside her room.

As she turned the corner, the droid rolled to her door and opened it, entering with only a whisper of sound.

________


Sharda chuckled, her belly laugh shaking her whole body as she finished listening to the bounty hunter. The protocol droid stammered, "The almighty Sharda has heard your request, and she denies you the opportunity to collect the bounty. However, she will -"

"That is not acceptable." The hunter's flat voice interrupted the droid. "I demand the right, as the first one to find her."

"-she will collect the bounty herself. And pay you a finders fee." The droid finished his recital, and translated the bounty hunter's words to his bulbous mistress. Sharda shouted at the droid, smacking him with her arm, and the droid jerked as he addressed the hunter again. "Sharda dislikes your ignorance of her greatness, and withdraws her most generous offer. You will recieve, oh my...nothing."

The hunter snarled, and fingered his blaster rifle. Sharda laughed, and the bounty hunter suddenly brought it up and aimed at her. Guards appeared out of the stonework, and after a brief melee he was overcome.

The cleaning droids were finishing mopping up the blood as Lilaena entered the assembly room. She crept to her post, rubbing exhaustion from her eyes. A dancing girl walked past her, and gave her such an odd look, that De'Ville suddenly became very alert.

Her danger sense prickled, and drew her eyes to the dias where Sharda was laughing uncontrollably. The overweight Hutt jiggled like a thick mud puddle, tiny arms crossed over sagging breasts. The droid turned and looked directly at De'Ville. And so she left, running as fast as she could.

*After her!* Sharda shouted in Huttese, and Gammorreans stepped out, blocking De'Ville's way. She continued running, spinning and kicking two pig-like guards in the heads. She vaulted over their spluttering bodies, racing for the main entrance.

________


"I should have seen that one coming." De'Ville talked to herself in a tiny holding cell, tracing a green stain with a gloved finger. She had almost reached the door when a stun weapon had been discharged into her, knocking her to the ground. Now here she was, sitting in a dank cell underground, waiting for Sharda to come and gloat over her. Lilaena sighed. She couldn't wait.

[Lady DeVille]

She opened her eyes as a Gammorrean banged on the bars of her cell with a metal rod. The protocol droid was outside, golden eyes lighting up her surroundings with an eerie glow.

De'Ville groaned. "What do you want? Or, rather, what does Sharda want?"

"She wants to let you know that she has been satisfied with your service, but you are hereby terminated from your post. It seems that there are others who want you more than she does..." The droid tottered closer to the bars, "There was a bounty hunter... but Sharda wishes to retain the bounty for herself. You will be returned to the Imperials."

"Blood and bloody ashes!" She slammed her hand down on the ground, uncaring of the filth. The droid stepped back, its message delivered. De'Ville made an obscene gesture to the guard, but the Gammorrean didn't understand. The droid made a small gasping sound, and she vaulted to her feet, clearing the space between the back wall and the bars in a heartbeat. She gripped the droid's metal arm, and it teetered, as if faint with fear.

"You tell that slimy, mud hole dwelling piece of bantha dung that no one crosses me. Or doublecrosses. She will regret her decision!" She snarled and let go of the droid, causing it to stumble into the Gammorrean. "Tell her that!"

The Gammorrean guard squealed, and rammed the rod into her side, shocking her as it connected. De'Ville jerked back, biting her lip hard to keep from screaming. Blood trickled from her mouth, and she sat back down in her corner, counting the drops of water as they dripped from the ceiling. And waited...

_______


Sharda smiled widely, stroking her pet's muscular arm as the stocky Imperial lieutenant marched in, accompanied by thirty stormtroopers and a tall, dark robed man. The protocol droid flinched as Sharda bellowed at it, and then spoke to the visitors.

"Her greatness, Sharda the Hutt greets you on behalf of Nal Hutta. She is interested in doing business with you..."

_______


De'Ville sighed, accepting the tray of slop that the guard offered her. It wouldn't do to let her body grow weak because she did not eat. She glared at the guard, and sat back on her heels, sopping up the brothy substance with the hard crust of bread she had been given.

A whirring noise caused her to look up. The R2 unit was outside, and it was acting strangely. The guard was ignoring it, and it trundled up to her cell, opening a compartment to reveal her blaster and blade. She set her tray down carefully, surprised beyond belief, but willing to go along with whatever this strange droid had in mind. She quickly and silently reached through the bars, taking her weapons in hand. The droid turned, and rolled up behind the Gammorrean, tripping it up and causing it to grunt and squeal incessantly. De'Ville used the vibroblade on the sandy stone directly by the bars. It crumbled away nicely, but she saw that the R2 unit had something else in mind.

It extended an input/output connector, and plugged into the system. The guard tried to stop it, but recieved a nasty shock from the little droid in return. De'Ville's door popped open, and she leapt out, shooting the guard in the head. It squeaked and fell down, jaw slack and drooling. The droid was already rolling down the hallway, past countless cells, and presumably towards freedom.

Hands reached out to Lilaena, but she ignored the prisoners' pleas. Her first priority was herself. If the Empire knew she was here her once chance at escape was already probably not good enough. It was extremely probable that they would send a Dark Jedi after her from that infernal "academy" of theirs.

The R2 unit turned a corner and just as quickly wheeled back from it, beeping and squealing. Blaster fire erupted behind it, and De'Ville dropped to the ground. Poking her head around the corner she squeezed off a few conservative shots, trying to draw more fire so she could count how many shooters there were. She sighed, back rigid against the wall as she waited out the volley. There were too many.

The droid bumped her side, and she jerked. She hadn't even noticed it rolling away, but it was back already. Another compartment opened, and a thermal detonator lay there like a silver egg in a metal nest. De'Ville grinned at the little droid. "I like you, Artoo. You have spunk."

She snatched the detonator, thumbing it on and motioning the droid to move back. It did so, and she prepared to run after it, getting to her feet. De'Ville tossed the expensive bomb around the corner and raced down the hall away from it, diving and throwing her hands over her head as the explosion rocked the detention area.

Alien screams ripped the air as occupants of cells and guards alike were blown apart and then cooked in the fireball. Then there was silence.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth's eyes scanned the room as he was pushed down to his knees by the two guards behind him. Sharda laughed at him his hands bound tightly together against his wings.

Keep laughing you ball of slime... laugh it up real good.

His eyes finally met with his force pike. It rested next to Sharda. So... she thought she would be keeping it? Perhaps she would, though perhaps not. The large squad of Imperial Troopers that arrived might well be for him. Better to spend the rest of his life in a detention center than to die here.

<font color=darkred>A loud blast shoke the floor--several of the storm troopers fell to the ground.</font>

The crowd shot into an uproar. Many of them started to run for the exit as heat filled the room from the lower levels. So... there was a fire? This suited his purposes very well indeed. The guards behind him were confused. It was all the chance he needed.

Jeseth rolled fowards and kicked to his feet. The guard came at him with a spear, but he moved aside and kicked him in the stomach. He fell back against the other guard as Jeseth made his way towards the heated metal disk that Sharda had adorning her...--Her What? Slab? Throne?--whatever it was. He was lucky that she liked her food hot.

His back turned to her, and the metal disk frying through his wrists as he tried to center on the bindings, he cursed out obscenties in a non-basic language. They melted away, the metal fibers dripping onto his flesh like liquid fire.

[Lady DeVille]

The little R2 droid carefully picked itself up from the ground where it had been thrown by the blast, and rolled over to where De'Ville lay. It gently bumped her outstretched arm, and she jerked it away, getting to her knees and drawing her blaster at the same time. She sighed, only the droid, and got slowly to her feet.

Her clothes had been burned off her back, but her skin was untouched. At the last second she had drawn on her fear and anger and thrown up a Force shield, the last thing her Dark Jedi master had been teaching her. She had only been unsuccessful before, but it seemed that now she had finally been able to make it work. She stripped off the burned remains of her clothing, and ran up the hall. There was a human male in one of these cells... Finding him unconscious, and the door leaning haphazardly on its hinges, De'Ville crawled in and took the male's dirty coveralls. She tied the wrists and ankles tightly with a length of wire she had found so that it fit her a little better, and then headed back the way she had come.

De'Ville walked through the acrid smoke to the corner, and looked around, wrinkling her nose at the odor of burnt flesh. The charred remains of the Gammorreans were spread about the blast area, and she stepped carefully through the mess, using the Force to lift the little droid over the most impassable areas. It beeped, seeming concerned at the unexpected movement. She smiled. This droid has more personality than Sharda does.

It was taking Sharda's henchmen a long time to arrive down in the cell area. De'Ville expected nothing less than imperfection from a haphazard band of mercenaries and Gammorreans. She jumped around a corner into another smokefilled corridor on the ground floor, leading with her blaster. A human male was running towards the cell block, and she did not hesitate, but shot him right in the chest leaving a smoking crater where his heart had been.

The R2 unit trundled long behind her, seemingly unimpressed with her antics as she raced through the halls. Sharda's "throne room" was just a few metres away, and a dark, forboding presence was in there. De'Ville involuntarily shuddered as she entered the room. A melee had already erupted, some slave taking advantage of the confusion and trying to escape, no doubt.

De'Ville was surprised to see a contingent of Imperial stormtroopers, and equally surprised to see her was the lieutenent. He was hastily giving orders to his men, but when his eyes met De'Ville's he shot his arm out at her.

"Get her!" Specks of spittle flecked his chin as he pointed furiously at her. Stormtroopers raised their blasters, and De'Ville dove for cover.

[Jeseth Cloak]

His wrists slipped free in a glorious burst of smoke and melted steel fiber. Jeseth was free. Blaster fire erupted forth and sprayed through the chamber like myst. Sharda's deep and appauling cries added to the confusion as the protocal droid droned on in his translation. The pain drove Jeseth mad, and if for only a second, he couldn't distinguish between colors. Everything blurred together as one mass--one mass to be hated and destroyed.

His fingers tightly wrapped around his pike and the blades hummed to life. He had drawn attention to himself now; A blaster bolt grazed his shoulder as blood sprayed out across his face. He jumped foward at one of the gaurds and severed his torso, the blaster dropping down with his upper body. Sharda yelled out in utter disgust as blood covered her eyes and breasts. Several of the storm troopers turned towards him and opened fire, but all too late.

Jeseth had closed the distance between himself and the ill-trained soldiers. Small white shards of broken armour filled the air as he drove his pike deep into their bodies. The world around him began to loose reason, and now he thought he'd die within the fatal white cloud he had thrown himself into.

[Lady DeVille]

She hit the ground rolling, shooting her blaster into the group of stormtroopers. Blaster bolts burned the duracrete around her as she got to her feet and ran behind a group of Sharda's Gammorreans. The pig-like aliens squealed as the troopers continued shooting, ripping them to pieces.

De'Ville shot over the falling bodies, and two more troopers fell, breastplates smoking. The stormtroopers started shooting in another direction, and she saw a force pike being used with some skill in the midst of them. Who it was she didn't know, and didn't care. Just as long as she got out of here alive...

The lieutenant was screaming at his men, waving his blaster around like a baton -as if he was trying to direct them like an orchestra. De'Ville laughed to herself, and turned her attention to Sharda.

The protocol droid had fallen off the dias, looking like a beetle on the ground with its arms and legs waving in the air. De'Ville vaulted onto the dias, ready to slit Sharda's fat neck with her vibroblade...but she never reached her.

Plucked from the dias, De'Ville found herself flying backwards through the air above the firefight. She twisted, straining against the hold, but was helpless in the grasp of air. She reached the waiting arms of a tall man in a dark cloak, and felt her heart stop beating. He was her former master, a Dark Jedi called Rajah Da'arc. De'Ville's throat tightened as he began to choke her with the Force. He wanted her dead.

She struggled against his grip to no avail. Panic gripped her, and black spots began to dance in her vision, but she drew herself back into a pool of calm. Did he teach me nothing?

De'Ville focused her anger and fear, opening a tiny space in her trachea, allowing a trickle of oxygen to enter her lungs. Tears pricked her eyes, and she threw her hands out in front of her towards Da'arc, sending an explosion of energy into him. He let go of her, but absorbed the energy and lifted his hands, dark lightning sparking from his fingertips.

He did not send the voltage into her, not yet. He wanted to gloat over her defeat. De'Ville had been thrown to the ground from the force of her own attack, and everything around her faded into the background of her mind. Blood splattered her from a dismembered arm, but she did not blink, her eyes locked into those of the Dark Jedi.

She was pushing down with her arms, trying to regain her feet, but felt like she was moving through gelatin. Shouts faded to whispers and the melee around her seemed to disappear. It was just her and Da'arc, in a fight for her life.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Smoke and debri was now become more abundant than air. The last of the storm troopers took aim for the woman who seemed to be fighting for her freedom as well. Jeseth's pike slid through the his throat cleanly.

He put his foot on the trooper's shoulder and kicked him off the end of the blade. The white armoured littered the floor like broken glass. Jeseth made his way towards Sharda, his blood still pumping pure hatred--Though now it was slipping away. His anger was leaving him. He looked down and noticed his shoulder was bleeding profusely. It was the last thing he saw.

The floor came up to meet him abruptly and he coughed, finding himself unable to move.

[Lady DeVille]

Rajah Da'arc was gloating, his hands held out in front of his body, ready to unleash the Dark side into De'Ville. She scrambled backwards, struggling to her feet, and trying to center her blaster's sights on his chest. Her hands shook badly, and her first shot went wide. The second was dead on, but his reflexes were fast enough that he drew his lightsaber and deflected the shot into the ceiling.

The air escaped her lungs in a squeak of terror as the blaster was yanked from her hands. De'Ville thrust her hands in front of her again, initiating a Force pressure wave that knocked the Dark Jedi off his feet. She turned and ducked under a slashing spear, running behind a line of Gammorreans who were milling about in utter confusion.

De'Ville ran around behind Sharda's dias: the Hutt was bellowing in anger, or was it fear? The slave, Nathan, was behind it, cowering in the shadows. He grabbed her arm as she moved past, and De'Ville lashed out, catching him on the cheek. He jerked back, and then held out his hands. There were the arm blades that she had used her first day in Sharda's palace.

She took them, her eyes trying to communicate her thanks as she strapped them on. The presence of Rajah was strong, and getting closer... danger! her sense prickled in her mind. The slave was streaked with sweat and dirt, and his eyes pleaded with her to stay...to do something. What can I do for you? I have no - De'Ville ducked, a lightsaber burning the air over her head.

She kicked out behind her in reflex, catching Rajah in the kneecap. He chopped down with his saber, and she jumped out of the way, diving off to the side. Regaining her feet, De'Ville drew her six inch vibroblade, nearly despairing at her plight. There is no way in hell...

Rajah Da'arc moved smoothly toward her, seeming to glide just above the ground as he closed the distance between them. De'Ville's heart fluttered, and she threw caution to the wind. If she was going to die, she was going out on her own terms.

Running to the back wall just a few feet away, she started to run up it, and as he moved to follow her she twisted and kicked off the wall, her feet kicking out viciously into his head and shoulders. Caught by surprise by her sudden attack, Rajah found his lightsaber kicked out of his hand. The switch stayed on, however, as it flew through the air. De'Ville landed heavily, and she flipped back past him, slashing at his middle with her arm blades. He threw her away with the Force, and she fell by the dias. The air popped out of her, and she opened her eyes again to see Nathan staring at her.

The blue eyes were distant, and she scrambled back to her feet, momentarily horrified to find that the saber had burnt through him from collar to midsection. She grabbed the hilt and pulled it out of his dead body, turning to menace the Dark Jedi with it. He merely laughed and reached out his hand towards her.

De'Ville felt the tug of the Force, and frantically backflipped over the dias, spinning in the air and landing in front of Sharda. The Hutt female was frenzied, attempting to start the repulsor on the dias, and didn't notice De'Ville until it was too late. The long vibroblades sliced cleanly through her throat, the thin greenish blood pouring out and covering the human woman.

She slipped backwards off the dias, and turned to face Rajah for the last time.

[Lady DeVille]

She pulled her blaster out, and emptied the power cell at the Dark Jedi. He deflected the bolts and she threw the useless blaster to the side. Rajah's fingers sparked with dark lightning, and she used the Force to jump herself out of the way.

De'Ville rolled as she landed, bringing her arms up in a blocking position, twin vibroblades crossed in front of her. The Dark Jedi Master was coming at her again, his saber again in his hand. She had dropped it in her haste to avoid him. Blood and ashes! She had only one chance, and that was to disable the saber.

She leapt to her feet, ducking the blade again and sweeping the master's legs out from under him with a low kick. He backflipped instead of falling, and she followed him quickly, spinning around and kicking the saber from his hand. He threw her with the Force into a group of guards, and she fell heavily.

Rajah approached her, but was too late to stop De'Ville from calling his saber to her and igniting it. She was relatively untrained in its usage, but how difficult can it be?

She slashed out at him, and he jerked out of the way of the sizzling energy blade. In the end, it was only dumb luck that allowed her to overcome him. He tripped over a fallen Gammorrean and stumbled forward-

De'Ville's eyes widened as he fell onto the saber, screaming as it separated flesh and intestines. Then she also fell to her knees, gasping for air as he choked her with the Dark side. He slowly fell forward onto the bloodstained ground, the saber sticking out of his back. Air... She crawled over to him, choking and gagging on her own saliva.

With the last breath he had in him, Rajah was determined to choke the last one out of her. De'Ville's eyes bulged against the pressure, and she weakly drew herself up to her knees. His eyes met her desperate ones, and they were dark and filled with hate. She lifted an arm, and fell on him, severing his head with the ultrasharp vibroblades.

Red blood spurted onto her, staining her face even as she drew in a deep shuddering breath of oxygen. The head rolled a little, and the dead eyes stared at her, hateful to the end. She turned her head and breathed deeply, working hard to keep the bile in her stomach.

De'Ville looked up at the chaos around her, and staggered to her feet. She headed for the entrance hall, gaining strength as she moved.

The Gammorreans left her alone, too busy wailing about Shadra's death. Once outside the palace De'Ville had another surprise waiting for her. More Imperial troopers were standing about a distance away from the palace, but between it and the spaceport.

She cursed, and ducked into a shadowed doorway to think.

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth could feel a massive release of energy over come him. He looked up and saw... nothing. Only a few Gammorreans...

Good.

They turned in time to see him get to his feet with his pike, his wounds dried and covered in blood and ash. Jeseth's eyes were clear now, his rage and anger subsided. They squealed as hey headed towards them with his pike, intently staring at their throats...

[Lady DeVille]

Lilaena peeked around the doorway, and saw her chance. The troopers around the space port were running towards Shadra the Hutt's palace, and so De'Ville crept around the doorframe and took off.

She ran full tilt towards the nearest landing pad, hearing shouts behind her, but not pausing to listen. When blaster bolts started hitting the duracrete at her feet, however, she managed to pick up a little more speed. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she scrambled around the nearest ship: a Headhunter.

The small, one man fighter looked like it had seen better days, but then, so had Lilaena. She popped the hatch and slid in, scrunching down as small as she could in the cramped cockpit as energy bolts sizzled over her head. De'Ville started the engines up, not having enough time to do any sort of preflight check. C'mon baby, you had better be space worthy or else I'm screwed.

The Headhunter inched upwards into the air, De'Ville strapping in as the ship took flight. The troops on the ground took potshots at her, but the bolts glanced off the hull fairly harmlessly. Shields raised, she broke through the atmosphere of Nal Hutta, only to find an ISD in orbit.

TIEs came screaming through space towards her, and she quickly headed for hyperspace, fighting to gain speed on the TIEs. They were coming on fast and furious, like a blind date from hell. The jump point was a ways away, and De'Ville despaired for a moment. "C'mon baby, you can do it!" She urged on the Headhunter, and winced as a direct hit took out the rear shields.

With an exhale of relief, De'Ville's Headhunter shuddered into hyperspace, the familiar starlines jumping, and then settling in to the swirls of hyperspace -

-only to have an alarm light flash a scant second before the hyperdrive failed and the tiny fighter and its beaten occupant were thrown out of hyperspace abruptly. "What the-!?" She was glad to be alive, but not happy about being stranded. There was nothing in sight around her, she had lost hyperspace between star systems, and there was little to no chance that anything would be stopping at this paticular spot anytime. Or ever, for that matter.

She ran her hands on the console, feeling within the ship's systems. Life support seemed to be fine, but the engines were completely blown out. It was only a matter of time before she starved or froze to death...depending on what lasted the longest - her, or the life support.

De'Ville quietly folded her hands in her lap, ceasing her struggling for life. She closed her eyes, and entered a Force induced trance-like hybernation, learned from the deceased Dark Jedi Master Da'arc.

____________


Three and a half days later, a ship exited hyperspace nearly on top of the tiny Headhunter. Its call sign was The Lightning Strike, and the pilot hailed the fighter, but was unable to raise De'Ville who was still in her hybernation trance. The Strike tractored the Headhunter, the pilot talking to herself.

"Who ever is in there is Force adept, or else I never would have stumbled across them. I will bring them to TSC with me for evaluation..." Live Wire mused momentarily, and then pulled herself out of her seat, going to see the newcomer.


/ooc: Jeseth, my part is finished, knock yourself out! lol I've had fun! /ic:

[Saphire Dragoness Azalin]

::Saphire sat waiting impatiently, it had been days, or at least felt like it. Jeseth had never been this late.
The ship, a customized Firespray had been sitting in the ship dock for a long time and the person in charge wasnt very happy about it. Saphire had practically run out of ideas to get him off her back::

::Saphire looked around the room again bored, picking up what was a broken comm link and seeing if it worked again hopelessy. To her surprise it crackled and she smiled in pleasure. maybe if he hadnt lost his commlink she could contact him::

::Saphire groaned as no one answered her calls on the commlink until a droid voice come out loud and clear::

Who are you? this is Sharda the hutts place, who are you?

::Saphire didnt know whether to laugh or cry, Jeseth had done it again. Gotten himself into a lot of trouble and now she would have to risk her neck for a troublesome hi-jacking partner. She grinned in amusement at the voice, obviosly a droid that sold things by its tone of voice programmed. She got up and picked up her saber she'd stolen from a sleeping jedi. They could be so trusting those people::

[Jeseth Cloak]

Jeseth limped his way back to his ship, his boots leaving a thick trail of blood soaked foot prints behind him. This had been the worse negotiation of his career--There was no way for him to go back to The Black Sun now, surely there'd be a variety of hunters waiting for him there.


His ship lay there, motionless, awaiting his approach as he limped, ever so slowly. Blood streaked down the side of the metal hull as he reached the control's to open the docking ramp. Jeseth lay there against it, finally drifting off into a state of unconciousness as he looked into the inside of the ship.

[Saphire Dragoness Azalin]

::Saphire looked around the stocks and picked up a few food pallets, in case she might get held back herself if anything were to happen. Long ago she had learnt to be ready for anything on strange planets::

::Saphire got the rest of her supplies and walked out of the ship, telling the ship dock owner to keep an eye on it::

::She walked up to Jeseths ship and found an unconcious figure covered in dirt and blood. Looking into the face she frowned. This was Jeseth and he looked pretty banged up, but she wasnt about to panic. She walked up and found a pulse beating in his neck. Grabbing his waist she picked him up and entered his ship, laying him down on the bed and cleaned the dirt of the wounds he had donned on his, it seemed, exciting adventure. Blood covered the cloth she was usign whern she had finished and she dressed the wounds::

Man, it seemed you got involved in a happening party hey jes? ::Saphire asked him amusingly as he opened his eyes after three and a half hours::

[Jeseth Cloak]

Pain shot through his chest as he tried to sit up, then he fell back down.

"Ah... - Yeah, you could say that. There were dancers... but I don't think you're going to like the news."

His eyes closed as he took a deep breath.

[Saphire Dragoness Azalin]

::Laughs and looks at her partner in amusaement, yet a bit of annoyance covering her eyes::
What adventure is in for us now Indiana Jones?

[Jeseth Cloak]

"There's no adventure in this for us now. You need to get away from me. I'm already as good as dead after what happened at Sharda's Palace... She's dead - Everyone there that I could get my hands on is dead, but there were still some that got out. It's only going to be a matter of time before there are hunters from every corner of the galaxy out looking for me...

I need to go someplace where I can lay out of site for a while till this whole mess blows over, and you shouldn't be around with me until then... It'll get you killed and I don't want to see you die on my account. We need to let the rest of them know."

He sighed and looked up at the lights of his ship, blinking in tune with the slow flickering,

[Saphire Dragoness Azalin]

We? Of course ther is a we. if your in trouble then it's my duty to help you out. heck i've been in worse before.
::Saphire grins at him, her eyes not disguising her concern::
we are a team and we stick together.