Dri'Vai Corsairs

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Air wafted into the modestly appointed cottage that Torgeir had rented for the week, a salty reminder that the beach wasn't maybe fifty yards from his porch. Being a large island in a chain of volcanic atolls and large mountains rising out of the ocean, Virmarr would definitely be a place that he would have to come back to. Sheets askew atop his muscled frame, steel blue eyes turned toward the gently dancing curtains concealing the Corellian from the outside. Though the cottage had sliding transparisteel doors, he chose to enjoy the cooler air as he slept as nothing had ever been reported on this island as far as trouble. Sighing, he pushed himself up and sat for a long moment, stretching and then sweeping his longer, unkept brown hair out of his face. The reminder that he wasn't whole anymore being the cool, metallic hand caressing his skull and the back of his neck rather than the fleshy companion opposite it. Glancing at it as he dropped his arms again, the constant reminder of all that he had lost when the accident happened back home was something that he couldn't escape. Lost love and family by his own choice never understanding his point of view, Torgeir finally pushed himself out of bed, heading into the refresher and performing the morning ritual before getting dressed and heading into the kitchen.

Turning on the more archaic faucet, morning's golden glow filtering into the window before him, situated over the sink, he scanned into the nearby jungle of large bushes and tall trees. Seclusion that he had come to enjoy, the sudden flash of movement through the shadows caught his attention immediately. Straightening, the following explosion of at least three more chasing this individual prompted Torgeir to sprint to the patio door and step outside onto the covered porch. Trying now to see where these mysterious individuals went, he waited for a long moment listening to the jungle as the sound of avians and insects soon returned.

Stepping down the short stair, the lapping of waves not that far from the border of broken grass added to the natural symphony until the emergence of a trio of half dressed, tanned male humans stepped out into the open. By their demeanor, they apparently lost the one they were chasing. Glancing his way, the unkept, stringy hair and toned bodies told him of fighters.

"Morning," Torgeir greeted tentatively, noting their older firearms and bladed weapons on their belts.

Nodding to him, the larger two remained silently suspicious of him while the gangly, smaller one glanced to the cottage. "You alone?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Just curious," he grinned, slowing his pace, right hand still gripping the pistol at his side as they walked by and soon disappeared once more into the jungle farther west of his temporary home.

Moving out to the edge of the patio, Torgeir kept his senses open to anything out of the ordinary and was soon reassured that they were gone. Relaxing a bit, he turned his attention back to the nearby treeline and soon noticed the shadowy movement of a fourth. Scanning around him for a possible weapon, he was disappointed until the figure stepped out from the tangle of bushes, left hand holding a wounded side as crimson trails coursed down his left thigh.

"Might wanna have that looked at," Torgeir stated, glancing back toward the direction of the first three, then motioned for the man to follow him inside.

"Thanks, friend."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Leaning on the edge of the small island in the kitchen, it's top adorned in polished, dark wood, the stranger watched as Torgeir bandaged the wound. Open medkit on the countertop beside him, the unknown dark jedi touched on the surface thoughts of his new visitor. Concern for his fellow shipmates and this dark haired stranger patching him up soon melted into the face of a redhead whom probably wasn't his sister. She was pretty, Torgeir mused quietly as he taped a white healing patch over the newly applied synthflesh. Straightening, he returned some of the tools to the kit. "Should be good now, but I wouldn't go running from any more pirates for a while," he sarcastically stated.

A comment that made the seaman's face melt into fear again. "Probably a good idea," he swallowed, then glanced at the treated wound. "Thanks for this. I've no way to pay you."

"Didn't ask for anything," Torgeir replied, closing up the medkit's dark grey box and crouched to replace it in the cabinet, then stood again as he turned toward the sink. "Name's Torgeir."

"Weston. Not from here, I'm guessing."

"No," steel-blue eyes glanced to Weston as he poured a glass of water then handed it to the local. "Corellian actually."

Nodding, the tanned, lean man drank and then lowered the glass. "Should've guessed by the accent. We dealt with quite a few merchants from there in Polatka over the years."

"Hmm," Torgeir watched him as he spoke, knowing a man on the run needed friends right now. "So," he glanced toward the window then back. "Wanna tell me why they were chasing you?"

Setting the now empty glass on the counter, Weston backed. "They hit our ship last night, captured those they didn't kill. The captain and about twelve others are being held in a cave about two or three miles from there, on the coast. Those Corsairs have always been a problem in these waters, but we'd been lucky until now." Backing a step, Weston seemed concerned now what Torgeir would do with that information.

"Have any hope of getting some help from the local sheriff in Tyson?"

"Maybe," brown eyes glanced toward the southeast toward the town on the coast. "But, I should go and leave you be. Already involved you too much," he turned and headed for the open transparisteel door. "Thanks again."

"No problem." Torgeir watched him leave, knowing this man's burden was heavy. "Good luck." Now gone, the crewman from the sail barge's faint form through the gently swaying curtain soon disappeared as he headed for the nearby town. Turning, Torgeir gazed once more out through the window over the sink knowing there was more that he could do and hearing his grandfather's words drift through his mind: "Help those in need, for one day you'll need the same."

Damnit.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Dressed in a long sleeved, light brown shirt and brown cargo shorts, Torgeir trailed the footprints in the sand heading to the nearby town. It's white gleaming homes nestled between the shoreline and rugged, verdant hills, the town of Tyson sported a fair sized dock and great fishing holes as well. Colorful avians flitted about in the trees as others of grey, blue and auburn raced over the waves in small groups as they sought out easy prey in the shallows and gentle waves. Soon, he arrived in the town's outskirts nodding politely to women hanging clothes or corralling their kids, some smiling at him as he passed by. Keeping his mind on task, the Corellian had a feeling Weston was already in the sheriff's office by now. Most walking to their destination here, a regular shuttle lifted off and glided through the air to one of the other towns on the island or to another island altogether.

Soon, his journey reached the center of town and main street, it's municipal buildings two to three stories high and newly painted in bright colors. Streets kept clean by several workers and two out of date droids, rains also helped sweep anything left behind. Nearing an outdoor cafe, Torgeir slowed as he noticed through the window across the street as Weston was taken into custody by two deputies as the sheriff hurried them to the back of his office, glancing outside to the variety of foot traffic and anyone else that apparently was watching. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach prompted a wash of adrenaline as Torgeir knew that his suggestion may not have been the right one.

"You want a table, hun," a mature female voice interrupted from his right.

Glancing to her, "Uh.... no, thanks".

Smiling, her tanned features were very appealing as she looked him up and down, then moved to her patrons. How was he going to help this sailor and his friends now?

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Surveilling from the back of the city hall, Torgeir was disgusted that the sheriff had no backbone and would turn over Weston to these cutthroats as he watched the nondescript speeder pull up to the back of the office. Being a block away, he had little option to help the sailor at this point, though he also realized that if this sheriff was in league with the pirates, he had to have made some enemies in the area. Only problem was finding them. But, Weston did tell him where the others were being held which was something at least. Having not yet been trained in the Force, the dark jedi did have some ability with precognition to a degree. However, it rarely worked on command so he was instead left with his natural ability and a metal arm.

Overseeing the transfer, the sheriff watched his deputies usher the hostage into the back of the speeder, then close the door. The representative of the pirates offered their puppet a mock salute, then moved to the passenger side and slid into the seat and closed the door. Within moments, they were away.

Moving to a speeder bike that he had rented, Torgeir arced his right leg over the seat and plopped down, then started the vehicle. Turning the bike from it's wall-side hiding spot, he angled the sleek, rust colored bike around and back to the mainstreet. His mind abuzz with plans of what he might expect once he reached the cave and how many pirates there would be, he narrowly missed being hit by two larger men. Slamming on the brakes, he glanced to them with a start. "Sorry about that."

"Not a problem," the older of the two grinned. "Don't get many opportunities to get my blood pressure up, so."

Chuckling, Torgeir liked this guy already. "Hopefully it never stays that way, otherwise you might be in trouble."

Shrugging, blue eyes glanced away. "Living here, that's not always an option."

"I can imagine," he straightened realizing now he may have met one of those that he could at least get some information from. "Pirates?"

Gaining the attention from both men, he knew he had hit on a sore spot as they nodded. "Powers that be seem to be in their pockets, which sucks. Especially if you depend on the seas for your living."

Scanning those around them, Torgeir relaxed on the bike a bit more. "Just met a guy that had been running for his life and went to the sheriff for help. He's not from around here, but mentioned that the captain and twelve others are being held in a cave on the beach, about two or three miles from here."

"A lot of caves in that area," the younger man informed. "But their sail barge would be easy to spot."

"Thanks."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Heading back to his cottage, Torgeir hurried inside and began packing his things, his mind abuzz with prospective plans on how to free this crew and make it through the pirates to do so. Without any weapons, the Corellian mechanic knew this desire to help may be a foolhardy one, but he still felt responsible. At least on Weston's behalf. He should have went into Tyson with him instead of letting him go, but dwelling on the past wasn't helping anyone, he realized.

Sighing, he straightened and shouldered his pack then took one last scan of the large, one room and was satisfied that nothing was being left behind. Turning, he headed for the main door and stepped out, turning as he closed it again and locked the door. A reflection of two men approaching from the beach prompted the dark jedi to turn and soon recognize the pair from town that had almost become guests of the local hospital. Moving toward the edge of the porch, he scrutinized both.

"You still going to the caves," the older man inquired, glancing to the dark blue pack over Torgeir's shoulder.

"Why?"

"'Cause, I may have some friends that'd like to help. We're tired of these Corsairs taking our catch or cargo, threatening our livlihoods and if the sheriff in Tyson or any other town's not going to help, then screw 'em. We'll do it ourselves."

Torgeir considered the plan as well as the man's tenacity, appreciating the motivation as he definitely understood that everyone here just wanted to have the chance to make a living. "Okay," he nodded. "How you propose we get there? My bike can only hold two."

Chuckling, the older man motioned out toward the bay, most obscured by the thick jungle to Torgeir's right. "My crew's waiting now."

Glancing that way, he realized the man had brought his sail barge with him. "They all realize what they're signing up for?"

"Yep."

Shrugging, his brow lofted in a resigned disbelief. "Alright, let's go then."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

After a short skiff ride to the large sail barge, it's white sails lazily clinging to the masts, Torgeir climbed aboard and soon noticed more than just fishing nets and empty cargo hold, but heavy guns vainly hidden beneath extra sail cloth. Men, toned and tan, all eyed the newcomer with suspicion as he returned that concern, though appreciated that these men were willing to die today. He had seen that look before, back home as talks with his grandfather's friends who had all taken part in the rebellion against the Empire. Their stories of harrowing escapes and loss of friends touched him deeply.

"Let's get underway," the older man and apparent captain shouted, spurring his crew into action as ropes were grabbed and pulled on, lowering the sails. "Never did get your name," he glanced to his guest.

"Torgeir."

Nodding with approval, "Evin," he grinned. "Welcome aboard the Camrin."

"Thanks." He followed the captain toward the boathouse, noticing the helmsman within protected by a metal house whose white interior seemed fairly clean. Heading down a wooden stair, Torgeir followed his host past more hidden guns concealed behind small round holes closed up. "This isn't a fishing vessel."

A comment that garnered a hearty chuckle, "You are correct. We've adopted some defensive measures to keep those bloodsuckers off of my boat. Going to see my uncle and get him and his ship to join us. Not going to want to visit those pirates in broad daylight anyway, we'll hit them tonight when half of them are passed out from too much alcohol."

"Good idea." Why hadn't I thought of that? Soon they arrived at a small room which he was motioned in to.

"You can stow your gear here for now. Don't normally use it for guests, but it'll work."

Nodding, Torgeir stepped in and noticed crates stacked along both walls, leaving a narrow lane to the bed situated atop two drawers. Setting his pack upon the bed, he turned and headed back toward the door. "How many do you think their crew has? I only saw three, but if they took a dozen I imagine at least thirty or more."

"And you were going to charge right into that?" Evin shook his head, smiling. "You're either the craziest man I've ever met, or got a death wish."

"Neither," Torgeir moved out into the narrow hallway. "Corellian."

"That explains everything," the captain replied, shaking his head as he headed back to the stair. "You people have a reputation, even here on this backwater."

"Good to know."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Watching as the men all performed their duties, keeping the metal and wooden barge sailing past Tyson's wide bay, the warm air tossing his rebellious brown hair, Torgeir was beginning to appreciate the life of a sailor all of a sudden. Leaning on the port side rail, he scanned the town's beachfront homes and shops as well as the warehouse and suddenly felt sorry for those people that lived under the shadow of a group of leaders that had only themselves in mind, rather than the people they had vowed to protect. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

"You live far from here," the younger man asked, interrupting his musings.

Torgeir turned left to the sailor, nodding. "Yeah. Born on Corellia, but been traveling quite a bit since. You?"

"Meridian," his brown eyes motioned northwest. "On the other side of the island. My dad and I sailed to Tyson to sell a large catch to a merchant there when we ran into you."

"Evin's your dad?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "I'm Bran."

"Torgeir, pleasure." The kid looked way too young for this fight that was coming. "You been sailing long?"

"Since I can remember, yeah. Dad and my uncle took me out for the first time when I was about eight. Mom was pissed, but she knew I'd stow away sooner or later. Might as well walk onboard without getting in trouble, right?"

Torgeir chuckled. "Sound like me, following my grandfather to work before I went to school fulltime."

"What do you do?"

"Mechanic," he stated, then shrugged. "Or did, anyway."

"We could use a good mechanic. I can talk to my dad, if you wanted."

Left hand raised, "Thanks, but I won't be staying long after we're done rescuing this crew."

A bit deflated, Bran nodded and moved on toward the boathouse, leaving him alone again as the barge slowly made it's way around the western coast of the island, soon leaving Tyson.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Rugged beaches, secluded from most of the small population of the island passed by, one appearing unique from every other as Torgeir admired the quiet land, salty air filling his nostrils, as he then turned his attention to the colorful avians flying alongside the sail barge, eyeing him in return.

"Waiting for scraps," Evin's voice cut in. "Greedy bastards."

Torgeir chuckled, glancing to the captain. "Feel good that you don't have to visit a zoo to see animals."

"The hell's a zoo?" His dark brow furrowed, matching the unkempt, dark brown hair with auburn highlights - sun bleaching it over the years.

"Large place with cages of shielding that keep animals in from all over the galaxy. People can walk around and enjoy them without getting eaten in most cases," he grinned at the memory, turning his steel-blue gaze back to the floating scavengers. "Used to take my girlfriend there all the time. She loved seeing the new animals brought in."

"Hmm," Evin moved to the rail, strong, tanned hands gripping the smooth wood. "What happened to her?"

"Nothing," he glanced to the large, strong frame again. "Left her behind when I took off."

"Why?"

Torgeir had a hard time answering that one and pondered how much to share with this newly acquired friend, though if they were about to go to war together, why the hell not? Straightening, he removed the glove to reveal the chrome hand beneath, flexing the fingers. "Happened at work over a year ago. Lost it and my job in the same day, practically."

Nodding quietly, Evin's brown eyes narrowed. "Doesn't really answer why you left her behind."

Smirking, Torgeir replaced the glove and settled in on the rail once more, leaning on his forearms. "I couldn't give her a life that I wanted to anymore. Didn't make much sense to stick around."

"Because you lost your hand? That makes no sense."

Torgeir's right hand moved to his shoulder denoting it wasn't just his hand that was lost in the accident. A revelation that prompted the captain to shrug. Shaking his head, the Corellian's eyes fell back to the undulating water. "How long to Meridian?"

"Be there in less than a half hour," he moved to leave the Corellian alone. "Still think you've made a mistake with leaving her, but that's on you."

Didn't ask.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

After two hours of sailing, the town of Meridian emerged around a rocky promontory which stuck out into the water, capped by a strong tower. Guns peeking from it's uppermost, squared holes, Torgeir then noticed the large fleet of smaller sail barges, most offloading at the large dock which seemed to front the entire town. It's warehouses and shipwright all in the shadow of a long, fortified, stone wall and more towers. One city gate commanded the center and beyond, rooftops of a host of buildings, the tallest he mused, was probably the city hall. Their culture seemingly feudal, he had yet to meet any nobility as the crew of the Camrinn busied about anchoring the ship and raising the sails.

Bran approached, winding up a thick rope, then dipped the upper loop onto a wooden peg. "Dad said you can stay here or come with us. He's going to find my uncle and get his help."

Nodding, "I'll go with you guys".

"Okay," the brown eyed, swarthy young man motioned to the small skiff now being lowered into the water from the stern. "They'll bring it up to the steps on the side there," he pointed to a door in the main deck's side being opened. "Just wait for us to join you."

Turning, Torgeir peered over the side as he moved to the now opened door and noticed as two crewmen pulled the skiff closer, hauling it with ropes. Soon, eight of them were inside the skiff and gliding over the waves toward the main dock, busy with fishermen, businessmen and porters. Carts full of cargo, now offloaded or ready to be carried aboard one of the several merchantmen barges, Torgeir was definitely out of his element here.

Finding a spot to climb up onto the wooden walkway jutting out into the bay, Torgeir pulled himself up and followed Evin and his son as the captain turned to his first mate. "Secure provisions and ammo. We shouldn't be too long."

"On it," the equally older sailor replied, soon disappearing in the throng as the Corellian did his best to stay close to the captain and his son as they soon made their way into the bustling capital of the island.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

The warm noonday sun only intensified the scents drifting through the crowded streets. Body odor, fish, animals, wood fires and a host of other things that Torgeir was sure he didn't wish to know the source of. Continuing to keep as close as he could to the father and son, meandering through guards, mothers and children as well as animal drawn carts, they soon arrived at the tavern whose two stories screamed brothel and bar. Entering, the air was overpowered with spices and flowers as well as too much perfume, accenting the local group playing in a far corner. Mostly dark colored hair askew along with beards made the Corellian wonder if anyone here owned a comb, though realizing then he fit right in.

Grinning at the scene, Evin turned to him. "Might wanna watch yourself in here. This place can be a bit rough."

Torgeir chuckled, "Never been to a cantina in the red light sector of Coronet City, I take it."

Evin shook his head as they moved through the main lane between long, wooden tables.

"Never lived until you've dodged a drunk Whipid from crushing your head in then."

"What's a Whipid," Bran asked.

"Long, furry, white head, tusks. Arms about as big as your waist. Weigh over three hundred pounds." Quiet looks from both told him they had never left this world.

"Huh," Bran's eyes turned to a familiar face and Torgeir could tell already he was wondering how to defeat something like that with the sword or pistol on his belt.

"Torgeir," Evin interrupted as he motioned to a grey haired man seated with five others. "This is my uncle, Samel."

"Pleasure," the Corellian greeted, steel-blue eyes drifting to the others in turn, then back.

"He a new hand on your ship," Samel glanced up to his nephew.

"No, actually," the captain relayed and sat down, then motioned for Torgeir to join them as Bran also claimed a seat on his father's right. "He's wanting to help us with the Corsair issue. Healed a crewman that was part of a ship that got hit last night. A dozen of them are being held in a cave on the northern side of the island and the sheriff turned over the crewman when he went for help, to the pirates."

A comment that garnered the very response that Torgeir came to expect from many so far as Samel grimaced, turning to his men. "Time for some payback?" His men all nodded, seemingly even more eager than the crew aboard the Camrinn had been. Turning back to his nephew, "When?"

"As soon as we're resupplied, I was going to see if you wanted to come with us. Hit them tonight while they're drunk."

Raising his tankard, Samel motioned to them and then his men and then took a long gulp, then slammed it back onto the table. "Let's go kill some bastards."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Samel's crew dispersed as the four of them then headed toward the southern part of the large city, meandering past more shops all advertising a host of professions from cloth makers, blacksmiths, armorers, tinkers, tanners as well as wainwrights. Few had any technology and seemed to be thriving without it, until he approached and the group passed a weapon's shop. An array of rifles, pistols and knives lined in a long display case kept busy as he noticed the men and women within, all bartering with the owner and two others behind the counter.

Into the residential area, Samel soon led them up a stair and into a home, it's underside enclosed on three sides by stone and contained a small warehouse, though quite disorganized as Torgeir tried his best to determine what was being stored beyond spare parts and extra rope, sail and furniture. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he walked into the pleasantly appointed home, leaving behind the noise of the street behind them, Torgeir took in the home that definitely had a woman's touch in it's decoration.

"Hey," an older woman hugged Evin and then Bran, then looked at the newcomer. "Who's this?"

Evin motioned to their guest. "Aunt Ayla, this is Torgeir. He's Corellian."

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

She grinned at him as she approached, wrapping her arms around him. "And polite, that's going to win some hearts around here," she chuckled, backing and patted him on the cheek. "Come on in. Something to drink?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

Having already disappeared, Samel's bellowing voice almost reminded Torgeir of his grandfather all of a sudden. "Woman, where's my satchel?"

"Right where you left it, old man," she yelled back, prompting Torgeir to chuckle, gaining their attention. "Don't let him bother you, he loves acting like he runs the house in front of guests."

"Cause I do," Samel's hearing definitely wasn't bad.

"Uh huh," she chuckled and returned to the kitchen. "How long you going to be gone?" A query that preceded a long pause as Evin leaned in on the small counter which split the main sitting room from the kitchen.

"Going to hit the pirates finally, Auntie."

She turned to him, glancing to Bran and back. "Not taking him with you, I hope."

"He's old enough now. He's definitely seen more than I had at his age."

Ayla nodded, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "That he has."

Torgeir knew in his heart that many young boys on Virmarr had seen too much, knowing what he knew now about their culture on the water. But, it wasn't his place to say anything so kept his mouth shut, turning his attention to Samel as he rejoined them, leather satchel across his chest and carrying two rifles, both wood and metal firearms. A cutlass on his left hip as well as knife in the front of his belt. A warrior ready for battle. He moved to his wife and kissed her for a long moment, then parted as he moved to join Torgeir near the door. "See you in my dreams, woman."

"Better come back to me, or I'll hunt you down myself." Hugging her nephew and then his son, she touched Torgeir on the hand as Evin and Bran followed Samel out. "I'll say a prayer for you as well. Don't be offended."

"Not at all," he grinned, not being one much for anything beyond the Force itself. "Take care." Turning, he joined the two captains and headed out.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Splashes from chamberpots nearly missed Torgeir more often than he would have liked, learning early to keep his eyes all over the place while also avoiding kids trying to pickpocket him from what little he had. It was an amazing life here, he mused as they continued heading back toward the docks, meandering through the streets paved long ago with stone. Narrow channels worn by cart traffic funneled most of the filth that actually made it off of the sidewalks, coating everyone's boots, the stench rising up with the heat of the day. An almost stifling fog of civilization and he couldn't wait to get back out on the water.

"How do you people live like this," he finally exclaimed, avoiding another steaming pile left by several pets.

Evin chuckled, "Why do you think we try and get back out on the water as fast as possible?"

"No longer a mystery," he shook his head, stopping as the shadow of a woman leaning out of a second story window then sent another stream of liquid to those below, most dodging or smart enough to stop and wait. Disease had to be rife here in the city, he knew.

"Why," Bran turned to him as they continued moving. "Where do you dump yours on Corellia?"

"Indoor plumbing." A comment that garnered the attention of all three, quizzical looks on their faces. "Seriously?"

Samel finally laughed as he turned into the shadow of the gatehouse, passing two guards, "The nobility have such luxuries, so it's not a foreign concept, boy."

Steel-blue eyes shot to the older man at the moniker. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that, and only his grandfather would still keep his respect afterwards. But, he let it go knowing these men were about to put their lives on the line for their fellow sailors. A brotherhood that only they could understand. "Good to hear," he replied amid the cacophony of heavy cart wheels on stone, shouts and voices from other crewmen and merchants.

Soon, they approached the long dock which hugged the sea wall and fronts of warehouses. Samel placed his rough, calloused hand on Evin's right shoulder. "See you out there. Looking forward to this for a long time."

"Me too," Evin smiled, hugging his uncle then parting as they then headed back for the Camrinn.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Sails dropped, they were soon away from the fortified, cliffside city. Torgeir leaned on the starboard side rail, away from other points where he knew the crew would otherwise push him out of the way and soon glanced back, noting they were being accompanied by not one, but four more sail barges. A bit confused, he motioned to Evin, then to the trailing craft. "Who are the others?"

Evin cast his brown eyes out over the undulating waves they glided over, "My uncle has a lot of friends," he smiled. "Why do you think I went to him in the first place? Everyone that makes their living on this island and the neighboring ones all do so out here. Pirates have been threatening that for a long time, so anyone that suddenly shows he has a pair of balls is going to get a lot of friends." He patted Torgeir on the right shoulder. "It seems She's blessed us this day and thankful that you almost ran us over with your speeder bike this morning."

"Definitely wasn't on my mind when I woke up this morning."

Evin smiled, backing a step. "Things like this rarely are."

Torgeir nodded. "Been meaning to ask, where'd you get the name for your ship?"

Eyeing the vessel around him, the captain's mind drifted to another time and place. "Camrinn was my wife. Most beautiful creature," he smiled, turning his gaze back to Torgeir. "One of those women that light up a room when they enter, make your heart beat a little faster. An angel," his smile faded as he glanced out over the water. "About two years ago, I had been out fishing for quayd when we hit a storm. Nearly lost half the crew, but eventually made it home. She had taken a fever and there wasn't much the healers could do to help her. My wife drifted out to sea without giving me the chance to tell her how much I loved her."

Torgeir's eyes fell as well, knowing how he missed Amelia, though was glad that he at least got to say goodbye. "I'm sorry."

Evin sighed, smiling away his emotions. "It's okay. I at least got to know her and she gave me an amazing son," he turned and eyed Bran, now climbing up to the main mast.

"Sure you want him to get involved in this?"

Turning back to him, "Yeah," Evin nodded. "He's already a man and I'm not going to be able to stop him anyway. He's too much like me."

Torgeir chuckled. "Sorry to hear that too."

A comment and lightheartedness that prompted Evin to laugh as well. "No kidding."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Now in the armory, Torgeir studied the saber now in his right hand, gaining attention from Evin as the captain prepped the pistol, "You ever use one of those," the captain asked.

"I know which end to hold, if that's what you're asking," the dark jedi glanced to the older sailor.

"That's a start," Evin chuckled, then handed him the loaded pistol. "Fire and drop," he began. "These take too long to reload, and if you're lucky enough they'll be plenty more laying around that haven't been fired yet."

Taking the pistol, he stuffed it into his belt and sheathed the sword in a leather belt he had also been given. "I have a question," his curiosity having built since they had left Meridian. "If you and your uncle have so much fight in you, why hadn't you done this before?"

Evin turned toward him, light from lanterns hanging on the walls around them illuminating the room and wooden chests as well as powder horns hanging up. "We've all been fighting on our own against the pirates, but many of the town's nearby are run by corrupt bastards that are getting a cut of the business, without admitting it to anyone else. To the public, they're trying their best to keep the peace and negotiating with the pirates to keep their shores safe, but they're actually paying these cutthroats off. Allowing the occasional ship to get hit and sending out others to help the survivors, if there are any." He sighed and turned toward the door. "No one believes that the powers that be have our best interest at heart, so we have to grow a pair, ourselves." He glanced to the Corellian as they moved to leave the armory, "It's a short life if you're not careful".

Nodding, Torgeir agreed that many worlds had that same problem as he stepped back into the stockroom. "Be amazed how many other planets that same scenario plays out," his anger rose knowing the secret group that he was a part of believed in justice, no matter the cost. "Well, maybe we'll have more than just saving this crew to tend to while I'm here."

Locking the door, Evin turned to him and prepared to head back topside. "That's a dangerous goal, my friend," he stated, then smiled and chuckled. "Love it." Patting Torgeir on the shoulder, he moved to head toward the stair. "But, first thing's first."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Heading out to sea for the next few hours, the Camrinn and it's crew explored the large, undulating waves as it glided over the tops of them, barely touched by the crests. Torgeir smelled the salty air and was beginning to think that he was born to this, though being born sectors away from Virmarr. It's simpler life was suitable, though he was starting to miss some of the modern conveniences that he had grown up with, they weren't the first things on his mind. It seemed that everyone could adapt if they were forced to.

The sun dipped low on the horizon and the helmsman soon turned the ship back east and they continued cruising back toward their destination. Noticing Bran approach, his lean muscles taut from hauling ropes and climbing most of the day. "How long to the pirate cave?"

"Few hours, most likely," he relayed. "We'll want to hit them late and make sure they don't see us coming." He glanced to his father and smiled, "He's a great navigator. Learned the helm when he was my age," he informed and returned his gaze as the first mate approached and yelled at him. "Sorry, have to get back to work."

"Yeah," Torgeir waved, then glanced at the crusty, older sailor now glaring at him as he passed.

Soon, the sun disappeared below the horizon, leaving bold, orange hues on the sparse clouds which seemed to be building all day. Having rain as their ally tonight might be even better, he mused.

"Torgeir," Evin called out, gaining his attention, as the captain motioned behind him to the stair going down to the lower level. "Dinner."

Moving to join the captain, Torgeir soon found himself in the captain's cabin, joined by the officers of the crew as they all sat around the large, wooden table lowered from the ceiling on ropes. His stomach rumbling now, he was surprised at how hungry he actually was as Evin and the others raised their pewter cups. Following suit, he listened.

"To the Lady that bore us, to the Lady that protects us on the seas," he grinned, eyeing each man around the table. "Praise be." Taking a drink, he then set it down, as did they all, and began eating.

The meat and potatoes tasted great, though with a unique spice to them that was appealing. Having eaten so little all day, he nearly didn't stop until the plate was cleaned.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

On the descent of night, all lights were extinguished and though the pure blackness surrounded them, Torgeir moved to Evin who he could make out in the faint starlight. "How in the hell do you know where we are?"

Evin chuckled, "Years of experience, my friend."

Nodding as the men around him prepped and loaded the cannon as well as their own weapons, rigging now being tended to by the rest, the Corellian just stood by as the Camrinn glided over the waves. Though he was totally lost, he trusted that the captain and his men knew what they were doing and had he not known them, he was beginning to wonder if they had all been pirates at one time. Or just that good at sailing.

Pointing up, the captain then continued. "I grew up with a grandfather that taught me how to navigate by the stars at night. He would draw out a large circle in the sand, then quarter it and then quarter that. With that same stick, he would plot out every star in the night sky by memory." He glanced to the Corellian. "Your grandfather teach you that?"

Smiling, he knew where this was going. "No, his lessons were about torque values and ignition timing." But, he was impressed with what Evin knew. "But, you've got me beat."

"We don't have fancy computers to do all this for us, so you learn." He turned to the helmsman, still speaking in low tones. "Bring us about to south by southwest."

"South by southwest," the helmsman repeated. "Aye."

Soon, the faint silhouette of the island's inland mountains began to rise out of the water, now calmer than it had been during the afternoon. On the distant horizon, to the west, the stormclouds lazily followed as arcs of lightning could be seen on the horizon. Hopefully they would be able to deal with the pirates before the rains dampened the powder.

"Ready yourself," Evin mentioned. "We'll be lowering the skiffs here shortly."

Nodding, Torgeir took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Waking up this morning, his plans had been totally different from this.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Weapons ready, Torgeir climbed down the side of the sail barge and into the awaiting skiff, setting into the metal flooring and joining the others who would be part of the raiding party. The rest of the crew would cover them from the Camrinn with the big guns and try and keep the rest of the pirates from escaping in their ships. Or one, as it turned out as Torgeir noticed the lantern light rising and falling with the waves, from the captain's cabin at the back of the ship now anchored in the deep cove. Keeping silent, the skiff then whispered across the waves toward the shoreline as waves quietly bounced off of large rocks and lapped up on the beach.

Once near shore, the helmsman for the skiff stopped it behind a large boulder, letting the men drop into the water and swim the rest of the way. Torgeir felt the cold rush of the ocean hit his skin and soak his clothes as he swam with the others, quietly moving up to the beach and soon, rose to a crouch as they surveyed for the cave entrance as well as any patrols. Soon, one of the men with him motioned to a pair of men standing near the edge of the forest and began creeping toward them, gaining two others with him as the rest waited. Torgeir watched as the dark shadows made their way up behind the pair, then slit their throats, hand over their mouths and lay them into the heavy brush, then crouch and motion for the rest to follow.

Rising, Torgeir moved as quietly as he could and followed the others along the treeline, toward the rocky outcropping, rising from the beach and most likely where the cave was located. Though his night vision was adapted now, he was having a hard time making things out as clearly as the others apparently were.

Soon, the raid's lead pointed down and guided their gaze to the dark hole in the side of the rock, large enough for three men to walk in abreast. Sliding down to the entrance's left side, the trio soon disappeared within and were followed by the rest. Torgeir's heart beat was racing as he moved, knowing at any moment someone was going to raise the alarm and all hell would break loose. But, so far they had the element of surprise.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

The dank, dusty smell permeating the cave nearly made him sneeze, which would have been catastrophic and Torgeir pushed through the detritus now littering the sandy floor. Broken crates and boxes, splintered planks as well as cans and paper from food items, all having gained the attention of a host of rodents now skittering from the group of invaders. Up ahead, a glow from a fire lit up the cavern which opened up and revealed an empty camp. Slowing the group crouched and took cover, Torgeir hoping they hadn't been discovered and were going to be the victims of an ambush.

One of their party moved to bedding and raised an empty bottle, showing it to the others. Setting it back down, the men all spoke without words. Glances and hand motions being enough and Torgeir remained with a trio, moving as they did until they found metal loops on the wall. Crouching, he studied the line of more, attached to the rough, rocky wall with deep metal spikes. The smell also soaked into the sand told their own story as he knew that Weston's crewmates had once been here.

Leaning forward, he whispered to a muscled, long haired man near him. "They moved them."

Nodding, the sailor motioned and they stood and moved toward the raiding party's leader. "They're not here," the sailor stated. "They've taken the crew to their ship."

Sighing, the well armed officer motioned for everyone to follow him back out. Hoping they weren't too late, the roar of gunfire echoed down the cave's long tunnel, prompting the group to sprint back to shore.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Once back out into the evening air, the roar of fires aboard the pirate vessel sparked one under Torgeir as he realized that the crew was going to die in that ship. "We have to get them out of there," he yelled, sprinting toward the far side of the cove in the hopes that the pirates would be preoccupied with fighting the other ships and fires aboard their own to notice him.

"You're out of your mind," one of the men yelled after him.

Pushing as fast as his legs would carry him, Torgeir pushed himself around the shoreline, salvos of gunfire blasting away at the sail barge as the pirates began jumping into the water and now swimming to shore. Some of their companions not wishing to go down that way and remaining aboard, trying to claim what was left in the hopes of escaping with their vessel, but as the moments passed, that liklihood seemed less likely.

Nearing the edge of the cove, he turned into the water, now pushing as fast as he could, then nearly ran into a pirate rising up out of the water. Their startled look gave Torgeir the time he needed, punching the man in the side of the face with his metal arm, knocking him to the right and back into the water. Not having time for this, he dove into the water and swam. Explosions brightened the night sky as splintered metal and other items splashed into the water around him, mixed with body parts and he pushed up to the surface just in time to see what was left of the sailing ship now keel over toward starboard, away from him.

His heart sank with it.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Pulling himself up on deck, Torgeir moved to Evin now congratulating his men for their work, some of the wounded already below with the doctor. Turning to him, the captain's smile faded. "What happened," the Corellian nearly shouted. "Weston and his men had been taken aboard," his heart raced with anger. Motioning back to the shoreline. "They weren't in the cave and we had no time to get them off their ship."

Sighing, Evin's hands went to his hips. "Sorry about that, friend. They were trying to escape and had fired on us first. My uncle's ship returned fire and then everyone else followed suit. Word of this is going to get out soon enough and we're going to be fighting for our lives," he warned as the rest of the raiding party climbed up behind him. "We're going to have to leave here immediately."

Shaking his head, Torgeir walked toward the stair and climbed down, then headed to his room. He had made a promise and now he had failed Weston and his friends. Men dying for nothing, he mused as emotions welled. Innocent lives had been taken by greedy men, but even though he couldn't exact revenge on those directly responsible, he could take it out on those that supported them. Gathering his things, he then exited the room and headed back up to the main deck as the crew then prepared to leave.

Heading to Evin, "I need you to drop me off near Tyson."

Turning to him, the captain knew what came next, nodding his head. "We'll go with you."

"No," he shook his head. "I don't want any of you involved with this and give a reason for the duke in Meridian to then take it out on you."

Eyeing him for a long moment, the captain acquiesced. "Alright."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Sunrise on the town of Tyson greeted a peaceful morning as shopowners prepared for a new day. Birds sang their own greetings to another day as Torgeir stalked toward the sheriff's office, nodding passively to those that bid him a good morning, ignoring them largely as his mind and heart was set on only one individual. They were the focus of this visit and he wasn't leaving until this man and his deputies answered for what they had allowed to happen.

Reaching the front door, he pulled it open and moved into the tiled lobby, eyeing one of the deputies who turned to him. "Morning," the uniformed man greeted, then eased as he eyed the newcomer. "Something I can do for you?"

"Need to see the sheriff," Torgeir stated, setting his backpack down on a nearby chair and continued to the desk.

"Okay," he moved toward the office on Torgeir's left. "Someone here to see you," he informed, leaning on the doorframe, then backed and returned his gaze to the dark haired man as Torgeir then moved to the doorway as well, keeping the deputy in his sights as well.

Footsteps approached and the sheriff soon emerged, slowing his pace as he glanced to Torgeir. "Hey..."

Grabbing the man by the throat with his metal arm, Torgeir lifted as he then pulled the man's gun from his holster, turning it on the deputy before he could react and shot him in the heart. The explosion from the flintlock booming in the small office. Dropping it, the dark jedi then shoved with all his might, throwing the man into a desk. Hitting it, he bent backward and then slumped to the floor, fear in his eyes. "You've been bleeding this town dry," Torgeir began, stalking toward the sheriff. "Vowed to protect these people and then selling them out to pirates that terrorize this island while you get fat," each word venom, making him more angry.

"You have no idea what you're doing," the defiant nature was more of survival and fear, Torgeir knew. Pushing himself up, he reached for the baton on his belt and as he went to draw it, Torgeir kicked him in the chest, pushing with the shot as the man landed on the desk. Exhalation of air as he grabbed Torgeir's foot and tried to shove him away. Stepping into the sheriff's ribcage, he continued pushing. "What do you want?! I have money in the safe," his eyes motioned to his office.

"You think I can be bought as easily as you've been?" Fierce, steel-blue eyes narrowed as the dark jedi raged. Yanking his foot back, he reached in and grabbed the sheriff by the arms, yanked him around and then put his neck in a hold, the metal arm around his throat. "Say goodbye to a life you should've been ashamed of long ago."

"....NOO."

Snap.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Going through the sheriff's desk, he soon found a ledger which he opened. Fingering through the host of pages, he noticed soon entries of money coming from someone named Ghougas and then a percentage being paid to the duke. He had the evidence he needed and now he had to get this to someone that could make a difference. Few would go against the duke in Meridian and if the duke knew that some stranger from Corellia was about to blow open his back alley dealings, there would be few things that could stop him from apprehending Torgeir and putting him in a deep hole. Alive or dead.

Slipping the ledger around his back and under his shirt, he exited the office and moved to the lobby, gathering his pack and continued outside. Few paid him any mind, though he could tell that they had heard the gunshot earlier and if he didn't know better, some even looked relieved that Torgeir exited alone. Treachery by the sheriff and his men had gained everyone's ire, it seemed. Making his way toward the port, Torgeir soon noticed several sail barges being manned, some loading cargo. Approaching the nearest, he nodded to the quartermaster, clipboard in his hand.

"Where you headed," Torgeir queried, eyeing two girls hauling bales on their shoulders.

"Several ports, why?"

"Need a ride," his gaze returned to the older, greying haired man. "I can pay or help out."

Lowering the wooden board in his hands, "Going anywhere in particular?"

"I don't know, where's the king live?"

Grinning, the man motioned for him to board. "Passage's ten crowns. You can work that off or pay me now."

Dipping into his pocket, Torgeir counted out ten silver coins and handed them to the officer, then followed another crewmember up on to the ship. Soon, he found a small guest room and claimed it, once being pointed out by the cook. Setting his pack into a trunk, he closed it and sat on the bed, not sure he believed what he had done in the past twenty four hours.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Having fallen asleep without grabbing breakfast, Torgeir felt the shuddering on his bed, then lids opened to see the cook eyeing him, "What," he greeted sleepily, stretching.

"You planning on sleeping all day? We're nearing Harstad, if you're still planning on going to pay the king a visit." Turning, he left Torgeir to get up and wash.

"Thanks," he swung his legs off of the bed and wiped his eyes, then sighed as he tried to wake up. Though he had no idea how long he slept, it felt good to have finally gotten some. Pushing himself from the wooden framed bed finally, he changed and stuffed the remainder of his clothes into his pack and closed it. Shouldering the dark blue container, he left the room and could already smell a host of scents wafting through the ship's lower deck from the kitchen, making his mouth water. Nearing the doorway, he glanced in as the cook handed him a plate. "Thanks."

"No problem," the haggard, older man stated as he continued finishing up lunch for the men. "Must've been tired."

"I was," he replied, eating as he stood there. "How soon are we arriving?"

"Shortly," the dark haired man stirred and then checked the bread. "You know the king?"

Everyone know why he was onboard? "No, but I have something to show him that I think he'll be interested in."

"You got a pretty wife in that pack that he'll want?"

Brow furrowed, Torgeir wasn't sure he knew what that meant. "No. If I did, she'd be mine."

Chuckling, the overweight sailor continued finishing his task. "Like you, stranger."

Smiling, Torgeir enjoyed his beef stew and soon finished. "This was great. I see why they made you the cook." Setting the empty bowl on the counter within the kitchen, he backed.

Eyeing the dirty bowl, the cook motioned to a barrel to Torgeir's right. "Wash that, don't give it back to me."

Taking it again, he quickly carried out the order and soon hung it on a rack, upside down to let it dry.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Greeted by screeching birds flying overhead, the busy dock was full of ships being unloaded and loaded by a host of porters and crewmen, businessmen tallying payment as Torgeir meandered through it all, heading into the city. Passing through the waterside gatehouse, he continued following the flow governed by the tall buildings, directing most to the central plaza. Sporting a large fountain in the center, smells of civilization seemed to be universal on this world, he mused. Armed guards kept an eye on everyone in the marketplace, eyeing shapely wives while also acting like they were being vigilant.

Soon, he noticed the larger gatehouse that fronted the palace's lower bailey. Gaining entrance, he moved through guards and other nobles as he made his way to the front door of the tall, salmon colored building's large, double doors. Guards stood to either side, but didn't stop the stranger from entering. Within, the sounds of the city vanished as he then entered a totally different arena where well dressed men lobbying for time with nobles or the king himself. Giving Torgeir barely a noticing glance, he moved to one of the men that seemed to be in charge.

"Excuse me," he stopped within a few feet of the official in black and crimson.

"Yes," judging brown eyes turned to him.

"I have something that needs to get to the king."

Eyeing him up and down, "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I don't."

"Have you been summoned?"

"Nope," he repeated and was beginning to see a problem.

"I can't allow you entry beyond this point, sorry."

"So, who can I talk to, to get this to him?"

"The chamberlain."

"And where's he?"

Hands behind his back, the attendant motioned behind him. "You'll have to wait for him to come out."

Nodding, he stepped back and sighed. "Okay."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Waiting for what seemed like hours, Torgeir noticed the crowd wax and wane with pompous asses who all seemed to have their own agendas in mind while comparing accomplishments, all of it seeming like kids in a playground. He began to wonder how they got anything done, then remembered how his aunt used to talk about politics in city hall, downtown Coronet City. Certain other things were universal, he mused.

"You'll get what I give you and like it," the man's comment gained Torgeir's attention and he turned to see a middle aged man angrily eye a beautifully dressed girl, probably in her late teens. "My wife is my property and does as I charge."

A comment that gained Torgeir's ire immediately.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

Taking in a deep breath, he tried to calm himself knowing their culture was different from his own, but seeing any woman subservient to a man was one of his pet peeves. "Don't take that shit from him," Torgeir blurted, gaining their attention, as well as several others.

"Excuse me," the man glared at the Corellian. "A commoner has no place in here in the first place, so shut your mouth."

Okay, game on. Eyeing the wife, Torgeir's demeanor calmed. "You don't have to put up with this asshole. His control issues are stemmed from low self esteem." Steel blue eyes returned to the husband, older than she by probably a lot. "You have to sleep sometime, so keep that in mind."

Nearing the stranger, the noble glowered. "And loose tongues are easily claimed."

"Anytime you're ready."

Grinning, the man's anger was palpable as well. "This afternoon then. Two o'clock, near the cathedral. Don't be late." Spinning on his heel, the man grabbed his wife's wrist and yanked her away from Torgeir, her wince at the action would normally have been more than enough to spark the Corellian into action, but a challenge had been given and would be honored. Then she would be free, he determined.

Nearing him once the sparks settled, a beautiful brunette in deep purple gown, followed by four other females similarly dressed, smiled at him. "That was bold," her smooth voice also held authority to it.

Sighing, Torgeir grinned as he began to slowly recompose himself. "Hate bullies, so."

She grinned, "What's your name, sir?"

"Torgeir DeHaan, ma'am." Something compelled him to add the honorary, deferring to her natural presence.

"Pleasure," she nodded, glancing toward the noble and his unfortunate wife. "That's normal here," she informed, then returned her blue eyes to him. "I take it you're not."

"Corellian, originally," he informed, noting that she hadn't introduced herself, though the ladies with her all kept their eyes on him.

"Ah," her smile seemed perpetual. "That explains a few things. What brings you to the palace, if I may?"

"I have something that the king needs to see, just have to wait on the chamberlain to emerge." He glanced toward the large double doors and then back. "I have a ledger that shows payments going from someone named Ghougas to the sheriff of Tyson and then a large percentage going to the duke in Meridian."

Her eyes widened, "That does warrant the king's attention. I can see that he gets it, if you'd like."

"Sure," he replied, then swung the pack around and dug through the clothes to find the ledger, then pulled it out and handed it to her. "Thank you."

"Thank you," she smiled, eyeing the book and then lowered it. "Are you staying in the city?"

"I'll have to get a room, but I've done my part. Not sure how much more I can do, really."

"Well, the king will be very interested in this and I'll make sure my husband gets it. Thank you again, sir." Turning, she moved toward the crowd who now parted, her ladies following.

"Welcome," he replied and turned to leave, taking a moment to realize who she was, eyes widened as his blood cooled.

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Waiting near the cathedral, a gathering of other nobles who had heard about the challenge to a duel now standing by, no doubt taking bets. Torgeir kept his composure, though was becoming impatient as a large, new looking carriage arrived and stopped. The driver dropped from the front seat and moved to the door and opened it, revealing the oppressed girl and then the noble who followed her out. Nearing the awaiting group of onlookers, he grinned at Torgeir.

"I see your manners haven't improved yet. You're late," Torgeir stated, already having won this fight in his mind.

"You in a hurry to die," the noble smirked arrogantly, taking off his jacket and tossing it at his wife, then moved to a noble holding a pair of swords. Taking one, Torgeir took the other and backed. His arm and hand concealed, Torgeir knew he had the upper hand already as the judge backed several steps.

"First blood or...," he began.

"Death," the noble stated, eyeing Torgeir and daring him to choose otherwise.

Nodding, the Corellian wouldn't have it any other way. "Say goodbye to your wife, asshole."

Gaining the man's ire, he now had him unstable and spoiling for a fight as the judge then motioned and backed. Charging the Corellian, the noble made the first mistake and lunged. Blocking with his metal arm, sweeping the blade away from him, Torgeir then stepped in and lunged as well, catching the man in the weapon arm, disarming him. Alarmed, the move caught his opponent offguard as he backed, avoiding another swipe as Torgeir pressed his advantage.

In one swift motion, the noble drew a pistol and aimed, grinning darkly. Instinctively raising his metal hand, Torgeir deflected the ball unseen in the puff of smoke and felt the concussion all the way up his arm and through his back. The blow numbing his body, but now the shot had been taken and the coward was out of options.

"Wait," the shout came from his left, a group of men entering the duel and gained everyone's attention. Their royal surcoats announced the identity of these men and they moved to the noble. "Duke Fullon, you're under arrest. I'm charged by the king to take you into custody."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Kneeling on the ground, Torgeir took a moment to let his left arm recover from the shot, not seeing the woman approach him and kneel beside him. "Are you alright," she asked, gaining his attention and recognized the noble's unfortunate wife.

"Yeah," he eyed her, wishing she had a different life. "Why are you with that jerk?"

She grinned sadly, "I was sold to him, his father having arranged this long ago when I was ten. The money was good for the family," she reasoned, though he hated hearing that.

"I'm sorry."

Straightening, she eyed his left arm. "I'll get you a healer," she turned to call out.

"No, I'm fine," he sat up and then pulled back the long sleeved shirt and revealed the metal arm appearing like it had once, before the accident.

Her mouth fell open and brilliant, blue eyes rose to his. "How...?"

"Accident at work, some years back. It's okay, it's come in handy more than once," he stated, eyeing the guards now taking the duke into the carriage and closing the door. Soon, they were away and headed for the palace. "So," he returned his gaze to her. "What happens to you now?"

Shaking her head, "I'm not sure. He has two brothers that are just as bad, so...,"" she shrugged.

"Fantastic." Rising, he returned the sword to the judge and prepared to leave as well.

"I owe you more than I can repay."

He turned to her and grinned sympathetically. "Your thanks is enough. I'm not the type to expect anything, just hate guys like him that feel they can take whatever they want because of their station, or expect everyone to eat their shit because of their last name."

She grinned, "Wish he was you..," she stated without thought, then her mouth fell open. "I mean..."

"It's okay," Torgeir chuckled. "Part of me wishes I was too. For your sake, anyway."

"Sir," another guard approached on a large, brown mount. "You're Torgeir? I've been charged with bringing you to the palace."

"Alright," he replied, then glanced to the girl again. "Take care."

"You too."

[Torgeir DeHaan]

Entering the throneroom, Torgeir recognized the gorgeous woman in purple now seated next to the king as well as a host of other men and women, standing to either side and watching the disheveled and plainly dressed Corellian walk in. Gaining the queen's attention, she shot a brief grin as he then nodded to her respectfully and returned it. To his left as he approached, the duke now stood in chains, not bothering to turn to see his accuser and the one that brought the evidence to put him away.

"Duke Fullon," the judge began. "You've been charged with aiding and abetting piracy, taking bribes and employing assassins to kill the king's brother," his voice booming, the court official eyed the duke. "Do you bring any evidence in your defense?"

"I've seen no evidence of my guilt," the noble replied defiantly.

The king held up the ledger that Torgeir had delivered. "I have it right here," he began, his voice even and authoritative. "The hand of your sheriff in Tyson details everything," he held up the book and fingered through it's pages. "Over four hundred thousand in the past eighteen months of piracy that's claimed twelve ships and their crews that you and your officials have ignored or turned a blind eye to. How do you explain that?"

Torgeir eyed the duke and noticed his immediate change of heart as sweat began beading on his forehead. "I've been victimized by this sheriff's plot to blame me for his own corruption."

"Not according to your wife," the king countered, then glanced to the young girl now standing in the gallery to his right, away from her oppressive husband. "We have her admission to hearing your dealings with Ghougas himself. The pirate king has dined at your table," the king nearly shouted. "She also overheard your discussion with your brother to hire the assassins and gave them orders to bring my head to them in a wine cask."

The noble had nothing more to say, though glared at his wife.

"You'll be consigned to the dungeon and in two days, you and your co-conspirators will be executed," the king stated, then motioned for the guards to take the duke away. "Your lands forfeit to your wife as well as your title."

Torgeir grinned as the king then turned his attention to him.

"You continue along these lines, sir, and I'll have to find a use for you."

Bowing respectfully, Torgeir smiled. "I thank you, sire, but I have to get back home. Thank you for hearing me," he glanced to the queen. "And for your help in this matter."

"Travel well, sir," the king bid and watched as the dark jedi exited.

Time to get back to a normal life, he mused.