Save Her (Morgan Evanar)

[Nathanial K'cansce]

You will tell me, or you will die.

"You will never find her, Darth."

Then die.

"The knowledge you want will be gone forever if you kill me!"

Others know -

"No they don't!"

*In a desperation move, the head guard broke free of his shackles and tore out his blaster from the Dark Lord's hand. Very impressive for a non-Force user. They were growing stronger by the day. That, or training harder knowing that those consumed by darkness grew in numbers endangering their peaceful lives.

The guard quickly had backpedaled his way from Snack, training his blaster between the Dark One's eyes. He pulled the trigger, firing the energy bolt at Snack.

Not skilled enough.

An orange blade grew from Snack's hand, or rather the thing in his hand. He twisted his wrist, deflecting the blaster bolt near the guard, but not directly at him. Two more shots were fired as Snack took a few giant strides towards his attacker, both deflected in different directions.

In one clean swipe upwards, the blaster was cut in two. Fluidly, he changed the direction of his arm's momentum and then cut outward and down, slice the guard from left shoulder to right hip. The two halves fell to the ground and rolled a bit, spewing no blood what-so-ever.

The orange blade coward back into its home. Snack then re clipped the hilt on his belt under his cloak, and then pulled the black and red hood loosely over his head. Stepping through the exit door of the building, he found himself swimming in a sea of all sorts of beings that had gathered and crowded the streets.

Lamuir IV's week-long planet-wide Priole Danna festival had been going on for two days now, and showed no signs of slowing down. Besides the many parades in Gryle City, the city was going to be this year's host for one of the more popular and most talented musicians the galaxy has ever seen, Mavisia Lorian.

Her songs brought joy and hope to the people of the galaxy. And worse of all, most of them centered on the great deeds of the Jedi, both past and present. What kind of joy could she bring if she were dead?*


OOC Note: I found the info for Lamuir IV here (http://swrpg.net/supplements/planetguide/l.htm) .

[Morgan Evanar]

Mavisia Lorian's room, 15th floor, the Gryle Grand Hotel

"Escort duty."
"Not just that, Master Evanar. You're also here representing the Jedi."
"Looking pretty and an escort. I'm still not exactly sure why you need one, your security detail is pretty thorough, Miss Lorian."
"Mavisia, please. And Nirri isn't back yet." she said with more than a hint of nervousness. Morgan frowned. He was supposed to be back four hours ago.

He tried the comm. There was no reply at all, except for the crowds that must be outside of wherever Nirri was. The Jedi closed his eyes, listening more closely. No heartbeat or breathing.

Quickly, he changed comm frequencies to the security detail's broadcast. "This is the Jedi, I suggest that everyone sharpens up. Nirri probably won't be joining us for dinner."

"Is there something wrong?"
Morgan nodded gravely.
"I think someone has killed Nirri."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

*People, people everywhere. The urge to spin in a circle brandishing his lightsabers as he spun grew. But Snack knew that in doing so, he'd lose all hope of accomplishing his main objective. Plus, it wasn't his style.*

Do you know where a Miss Mavisia Lorian might be staying? I'm a big fan and wished an autograph before her big preformance tonight...

*Snack asked a human woman who had mistakenly made eye contact with him.*

"Well, last time she came to our city, she stayed in the Gryle Grand Hotel. Maybe she's there."

Thank you..

"Though I wouldn't waste my time finding out. If she is there, her security won't let you by."

Not even for her biggest fan? No worries... thank you again.

*Her security won't be able to stop me... He bowed his head slightly to the helpful woman, before turning and pushing his way through the mass of beings. Snack had no clue where the hotel resort was, but he probed the woman's mind to get the general idea of its size, location, and design.

Opening himself to the Force, Snack searched the city for the building. One that looked very close to the description he pulled was close, maybe a block or two away from where the parade started. He would go there and hope that's where Mavisia was.*

[Morgan Evanar]

Morgan had made a point to familiarize himself with those providing security. Even if it was escort duty, he figured it would be a good idea.

It had been wise indeed.

"Jarvis, contact the local enforcement, and find where that comm is, and what happend to Nirri. Look for micro-cauterization."

"Micro-cauterization, Master Evanar?"

"Lightsabers, Jarvis. Get moving. Ask for the best detective you can, at my request." A Jedi's name was begining to carry more weight in parts of the Galaxy again: now was certainly a good time to use it.

After calling the rest of the guard in, he explained to them that they need to keep a moving patrol, and to report within twenty seconds if they stopped, even if they so much as needed to water the trees.

"Mavisia, sit on the edge of your bed please." Morgan asked as he grabbed a rather sturdy looking metal case and set it on the dresser. A bit of fiddling, and the top slid open. His simple drab green cloak landed neatly on a chair. An lightsaber, a large rail pistol, and five magazines of 5 mili-meter rail ammunition were neatly taken out of the case and spread across the dresser. First on went the second lightsaber, finding an empty clip on the Jedi's belt. Next, Morgan removed a shoulder holster with space for the magazines, and donned it. Four clips went into the spaces, while one slid into the rail pistol with a mechanical click, and found its way into the holster.

Now properly armed, he sat two meters from the edge of the bed, and closed his eyes.

"Please don't move Mavisia."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

*The building which he stole from the woman's mind ended up being false. The one across the street, however, was right on. In extravagant lettering, and bright colors, read the sign "Gryle Grand Hotel".*

"Can we help you?"

*The two bell-hops out front of the main doors calmly and slowly stepped towards Snack. They had noticed the tall man looking up the front of the tall building, eyes never blinking. He was busy, searching with his mind as to where exactly his prey was.*

"Excuse us..."

*Their tone grew stern and impatient, both closing in on the curious man. Snack removed his line of sight from the high front of the building to the two who approached them. Neither one was wearing red uniforms. They looked more like the local security outfits... much like the one that covered the dead man a few blocks down.*

Oh.. sorry. I'm here to meet Mavisia Lorian. We made an appointment ..oh.. about a month ago or so. And she gave me strict instructions to meet her here at this hotel. I think she wished for me to head security for her.

*The two looked almost dumbfounded. Snack kinked his head to the side watching as the two glanced at each other, to Snack, then to each other again.*

"...."

"Um... the head of security is already in her quarters -"

Then I must be his second in command. Can't be too careful.. though I would have thought she would call me to tell me of her change in plans....

*The Force was in full use now. Snack reached into the second guards mind, forcing on a Jedi Mind trick. A very useful skill when dealing with the weak minded.

The face on the puppet brightened up, a smile forming on his lips.*

"That is a surprise. But she's probably been very busy, with tonight's activities. She's up on the 15th floor, private suite 215."

*He stepped aside, allowing Snack to walk past. Though as he did, something nagged at the back of both of their minds. The guard saw an outline of a cylinder in the back of Snack's cloak. And in Snack's.. it was the fact that he had lost a guard.

Inside the lobby, just out of the Dark Lord's view, the other "bell hop" crouched. In one of his hands he held a commlink. In the other, a blaster. In a hushed voice, he spoke into the transmitter.*

"Master Evanar... a suspicious man with a cloak has just entered the hotel, saying he's the head of security... My blaster's trained on the front doors... all I need is your order..."

[Morgan Evanar]

"Hold." One word. Simple, and consise, it conveyed exactly what Morgan wanted done and nothing more. In times of danger and crisis, precise language could save lives.

Hopefully this would save another member of the entourage.

Now the waiting game was in play. The gambit of reaching out one's senses and being known, or relying on one's deciveable natural senses and reflexes, or waiting, and lean on the element of surprise.

Altough he had never been much for gambling, Morgan had more confidence in his keen senses than most Jedi. His already subtle presence in the Force seemed to drift away, leaves blown by and scattered by a gust. More dramatic was his actual dissapearance. One moment he was seated, and the next, nothing.

Mavisia gasped.

"Shh." The hiss seemed to come from everywhere.

And then it was silent.

Morgan would wait, but not in the same place. Silently, he found a better spot to guard the room from. After all, even an Aprentice Darksider might not decide to use the front door.

[Nathanial K'cansce]

*Snack entered the lobby and froze. Not because he was being watched, but for the fact that it held such beautiful architecture and craftsmanship. It certainly was a place for the rich and famous. Or those with good and expensive tastes.

The hidden guard cursed under his breath. He would never disobey the direct orders from a Jedi Master, but he had the chance of a life time to take the distracted Dark Lord down for good. One carefully aimed shot, and Snack would have been dead on the spot. But he held as he was told.

He walked up to the front desk, and leaned his elbows on it's glossy wood top. Now, to see how good the singer's security really was.*

"Yes?" the teller behind the desk asked.

Tell Miss Lorian that her boyfriend is here. She told me to tell you to tell her once I arrive, that was she can come running to me with arms wide open and show me herself to her room.

*Snack gave a devilish grin as he brushed the hood of his cloak back, allowing it to fall around his shoulders and back.*

[Morgan Evanar]

The comm beeped.

"AnnNnsweeRRrrr it." After a moment of fretful starting, she picked up the handset and answered it.

"Hello?" Mavisia said rather tenatively.

"Miss Lorian, your boyfriend is here to see you."

"Oh." she said, with more than a twinge of fear. She had dumped her last one a month ago.

Morgan re-appeared.

"You'll go." he whispered quietly into her ear.

"Tell him I'll be down in a minute."

The teller smiled at snack. "She'll be down in a minute."

Morgan followed her into the elevator, and dissapeared again.

[Nathanial K'cansce]

"She'll be down in a minute," the receptionist said with a smile.

Thank you.

*Snack nodded, pushing himself away front he desk. The guard that had disappeared was in the room, watching his moves, no doubt. Probably had already informed Mavisia that this boyfriend of hers was the one who had killed his little guard buddy.

He turned his neck to look at the elevators to his left. Three were there, and one of them was currently on the move. Little punk! They would never send her down here knowing a killer was waiting for her.

They weren't stupid.

And neither was Snack.

He grimaced, lightly flicking his wrist in the direction of the reception desk. The Force contorted somewhat, causing a clanging sound in the backdrop, like something had fallen. The teller kinked his head to the side and decided to go back and investigate the phantom sound.

With him busy, Snack moved quietly to the elevators, pressing the "Up" button. The doors chimed opened. Once in, Snack keyed the 15th floor, and waited.

The doors closed, the upward movement started, and Snack began to think. If they were guards, and he had gotten to her room, they'd be able to easily come from behind and take him out, depending on how many there were.

Not good...

He thought for a second, and immediately pressed the emergency stop button. Looking up, Snack went through a new plan in his head. Remove a panel from the top, climb a cable or two, jump to the other car, and enter that one. Take out the guards with no one watching.*

[Morgan Evanar]

Ding. Almost all passenger elevators did that. A smartass friend of Morgan's had said it was one of the great mysteries of life. It was probably one of those re-assurance things.

He exited after Mavisia, searching for lightsabers. The clerk appeared from under the desk.

"I swear I could have heard something fall." Frell.

She was unfazed. "Excuse me, but a man was supposed to be here waiting for me."

"Ahh, yes. Ummm, well Miss Lorian, I don't know where he went."

"I see. Well, I'll be in my room if he turns up."

They stepped back into the elevator. Morgan pressed the "close doors" button.

There was an overly faint yet ominious snap-hiss. He appeared as the doors nudged his hand, and one was forced violently open. Gears protested against the abusive treatment.

"Wha.." The Jedi Master pushed her out of the car, skidding onto the granite floor. He smacked the top floor button hard enough to dent the panel, and dove out as the glow of a blade flicked through the top of the lift.

"Sorry Mavisia" he scooped her up like a child, "but that was a lightsaber."

"What?"

"I guess you didn't hear the hum." Morgan set her back on her feet.

"No..." Mavisia looked terribly confused, and more than a bit scared.

He resisted cursing aloud while he looked around.

Stairs

Yes. That would do quite nicely.

"On my back, please. Doubt you could run in those." Morgan stared at her heels. Although very confused, she complied.

"Tighter. Don't want you to fall off. I'll be able to breathe just fine." He started at a dead run, but quickly gave that up after two flights. Instead, he pulled himself up from platform to platform, while she cringed in terror.

"Morgan, I'm afraid of heights." She said at the fifth floor.

"Oh. Don't look down. Only a minute more."

[Nathanial K'cansce]

*The plan was half way in motion. Only thing left to do was enter the new cart, and kill the guards.

The orange blade of his weapon came to life, its glow and sound making it look like a weapon from the Gods in the elevator shaft. *

Ding

Creak, scrape, clunk

Thunk

Shi...

*Just as his orange blade poked through the top panel of the elevator, the car jerked and an immediate rush of wind played with his form. Snack slashed across, then down, and back across his moving floor, brought his saber back up, and kicked down on the cut panel with pure rage. It flung down, allowing the Dark Lord to jump into the empty car. He flipped the switch to his saber and swore as he looked at the dented panel. The top floor was his new destination.

Smart.

Sighing and pushing the rush of the fight down inside his body, Snack reached out with a single finger and pressed the button for Floor 15. There was no rush.*

[Morgan Evanar]

He could feel her eyes closed. Winced shut, rather.

"How much longer?"
"Just count to thirty." Alone, or with someone he trusted, he could have easily done the whole deal in 20 seconds. Maybe less. He theorized that Mavisa wouldn't do so well if he suddenly took a floor or two at a time by leaping.

True to his word, they were at floor 15 in another thirty seconds. Morgan slowly opened the door, rail pistol drawn.

No one was there, which wasn't surprising at all. The stairs were out of the way, tucked into a corner of the building, unlike the elevators, which were pretty much centralized.

"Stay put." he whispered before dissapearing. Unseen in both the Force and sight, he crept around the corner, pistol leveled, finger resting lightly on the trigger guard.

Empty.

Now what?

[Nathanial K'cansce]

Ding

*Oh, what a soothing sound. Had it rang twice more, however, its cuteness would be ended. The doors slid open, revealing nothing save for the wall in front of him.

Nothing seemed out of place, least through a quick scan of the Force. Though Mavisia was not in her room. Snack could feel a female presence, draped in fear, at the end of the corridor. But she was the only one not in a room, and no one else on the floor carried a Force signature.

Strange.

His orange blade shot to life, its hum being heard by anyone listening to their doors. Cautiously, he stuck the blade and only the blade out into the hall praying someone would either be trigger happy or over zealous.*