Chakta Sai Kae (Rayna)

A displeasure tarnished the disfigure mistaken for the Hutt's face. The features normally bulbous, slimy and round turned slanted in a contemplation. For a moment he meditated, eyes nearly close as he peered ahead toward the mangled Wookie. Blood stained his decent coat of fur. The brown, white and twinge of yellow carried a newly formed crimson that left the pattern dismal at best.

There had been numerous Wookie that had been carried in before. Jibuu had dealt in such hierarchy of slavery to identify the awkward odds of aliens, even specify their languages and decipher their wording. Nothing sled by him. Centuries of work in the slums of the galaxy had supplied his mind with a sharpness that an ace shooter could parallel.

Not a man within the room could outsmart him, especially in a dejarik game. Suffocated by the turmoil of the rooms he commonly found himself in during his stints as a Lord, meeting with numerous other of the Hutt Empire delivered all the necessary training to survive in such a thriving business. People were simply saw as puppets, and credits always came first.

A frown pressed his slit lips into a burrow downward, dismantling his slender cheeks as his belly roared from a shudder movement. The Hutt's belly crinkled as it rumbled with disdain. He was hungry.

"Sdadtga jiin urans, Hern." The Hutt's hand swung in a lazed gesture, watching as the Falleen beside him trickled off into the small crowds toward the nearby door. Another command had been sent her way, and despite her rather established upbringing she had to fall to his will. She had been taken in as a slave as many other--against her will.

Falleen were a prestigious race. A carving of superior intellect, diligence and talented attributes, they were fitted for the social crowds that riddled the galaxy in the masses. Engraved in the forms of their own planet, a sparse few departed for adventures throughout the stars to grow as beings. Such explorations were regarded as voyages that would eventually lead them back home. Instead, she was a slave. Her life would be submitted to the tide of troubles and commands by a lowlife.

It was a bit too much for her to swallow, so instead of dwell on such depressing thoughts she engulf her mind with the daily routines.

Treading through the darkened halls, her eyes moist and pupils dilated as she spear-headed the oncoming door. Pushing it open with swift haste, she sped down the next hall to the right toward the cells. Jibuu had requested his highest slave in the lower workings to begin their task of food carrying.

---------

Naemi eyes were enthralled in the moment, but her mind was engross in times past. Much had changed since her happiness. Joy once entangled her life, vines wrapping about her very being with an electricity no repulsor lift could generate. Every moment caress a desire, detail with extremes. Purposeful maneuvers aimed for further advances in the smile. Nothing carried the angst and the disapproval that the daily routine merit. Slavery was not the place for a Zeltron.

Blind darkness flush over the chilling cell. Although she rested in her nest with desolates and ghastly specs, she had become accustom to the case. Life had finely dished her with finery of the worst kind, and it was more than she could swallow. Rarely did she open her mouth for intake. Curl of her lips kept her in embarrassed, shame splashed over her divine looks.

Naemi was a grace of Zeltron allure. Despite the despise that rattle her into a shudder at a daily, she still embody the beauty. The curvaceous slide that wrapped her being kept eyes at a twinkle at a glance, and face justified with heavenly guise. Cascaded in utter delicacy, she was a perfect display for the eye. Certain eye candy.

In the slither of cold, her body shook with coming fervor before the heat of the Falleen slave scolded her ears.

"Come, lets go."

Time for work.

---------

Disregard coil the Hutt's face as he spared the Wookie his eye. For moments on end he surveyed him alike an object. No longer did beings stand as simply...beings anymore. They were objects of credits. Their worth lay in their bank. This Wookie had nothing to his name beside his strong arms.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v7...ogie/Jabba.jpg

Only for a moment did he deliver a glance away, gathering crispic and hubba gourd for a stuffed chomp. After a quick swallow, he grabbed up more before he dropped his solution.

"Jighill giin."

The Wookie would die.

"Whoooo!" A Jiivahar next to the bounty hunter Cabal noised as the Wookie was sentenced it's fate. Obnoxious aliens. As little as Cabal had to do with the Empire, much of their ideology ran through him; aliens were inferior to humans. Regardless, some aliens like Jibuu had a number of credits to their name and hence his current employment.

Jibuu employed a system of competition to secure his will within his empire. Nearly every Hutt of any importance kept one bountry hunter in exclusive contract, Jibuu preferred to have two. His rival was the eight-for-the-price-of-one bounty hunter Xau Ghin; he was sitting towards the back, barely watching. They both recieved the same commissions, the first to complete got the credits. Competition encouraged efficency.

The Wookie raged and roared as the Gamorreans hauled him off to the side. The notorius Jabba the Hutt of Tatooine was infamous for his drop out floor and the Rancor that occupied the room beneath. Jibuu was one of a more sadistic nature. The Brazen Bull was the Hutt's favorite method of execution and a crowd favorite. Cabal looked over to the bronze Bull as the the Gamorreans set about their work in preparing it.

The Brazen Bull was the product of an extremely inventive human-alien hybrid known amongst regulars at the palace for his frantic and quirky behaivor. To Cabal, the Bull was marvelous in its method of making an execution most angonizing for its victim and so spectacular for onlookers. The victim was forced inside the bull and a fire set beneath it. The howls and cries of the victim were channeled through a system of pipes and drums to mimic the sounds of an infuriated bull. The smoke from the cooked body was sent through a different set of pipes and tainted to produce an incense unique to the palace. While an astonishing piece of equipment, it also disgusted Cabal. Only a being with alien genes could invent such a thing.

His thoughts were set aside and his attention diverted as the Fallen woman entered the room, behind her a few aliens and a certain human girl that had caught his attention since he began his stay at the palace. They all carried large bowls of food for the bulbous Jibuu, who was eagerly awaiting more to stuff his rotund figure with. The girls name was Anbira'nar, she was gorgeous with dark skin and emerald eyes that transfixed him. He wished he could be with her more often, but once the relationship grew more serious between the two, she revealed to him her slave markings; no slave of Jibuu would love anyone but its master. Since then he had been striving to find a way around the rules, nothing had presented itself.

He flashed a small smile her way, but she barely returned it and looked away, focusing on her task at hand. As the incense filled the room, no slave of Jibuu needed a reminder of what fate awaited those who broke the rules. He turned his vision away from both the Hutt and the servant slaves, it was best not to let the situation between him and Anbira'nar to fester within his mind.

What's this?

He focused on the image of a rather figity Gotal. He arrived at the palace as an honored guest of Jibuu not more than a month ago. Cabal never occupied his time with finding out what exactly put the Gotal in the good graces of the Hutt, it wasn't in his job description, but now he was suspicious.

He stood up and walked to the rear wall of the room. While walking along it he kept his eye on the Gotal, still figity and still suspicious. At last he crossed the room to the giant chair his rival sat in.

"Notice anything out of place today, Xau?" He asked casually.

The droid with snake-like tendrils drapped over its neck and shoulders turned to him. ''What, have you hidden a ring in Anbira'nar's cupcake?" It said to him as Xau Ghin actual failed to give him any notice.

"Come on Xau." He protested forcefully. "I'm serious. I hate it when you talk to me through these things, its annoying."

"What do you want, Cabal?" He said, careening his head towards the rival.

"I asked you a question, droidophile. You gonna to answer?"

"No, nothing is out of place." The painted bounty hunter returned to his former position.

"How about hornhead there?" Cabal said with a nod towards the back of the Gotal.

"He's a little figity for comfort, do you think he's up to something? Did you see something?" Xau's voice rose in slight excitment as if he was beginning to suspect what Cabal had. "Did you see the astromech next to him?"

Cabal looked next to the Gotal, the astromech was obstructed from his view on the other side of the room. The horns on the Gotal lead all of them to be overly receptive to electromagnetic interference. It was nearly torture for one to be so close to a droid.

"Pudu." Cabal spat.

Xau laughed a little. "If there was anything wrong one of my droids would have picked it up easy. Now go away Cabal."

The seemingly lesser of the two bounty hunters turned away from Xau and began the walk along the walls to his previous station all the while he kept an eye on the Gotal and the astromech, something told him this wasn't right.

Notes:
The Brazen Bull was a torturous execution device created by the Greeks. More info here

The band Mushroomhead is what I'm basing the bounty hunter Xau Ghin on, the middle man I've described as Dark-Eyes and his face is attributed to Xau Ghin, the rest in the pic are droids in the story.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v3...d20band203.jpg

Despair festered in the air as the Hutt pasted himself to the seat, and hand upon the numerous platters set about him. A path of servants tread his way, but his eyes trailed off elsewhere. The focus of the moment was on the entanglement of the Wookie's end in a nearby chamber, but he cared about more important subjects. Amidst the profusion of the room's chatter sat his business acquaintance. An uneasiness rested in him, his wrinkled features becoming all the more distorted underneath his fidgety nature.

The horns, profound throughout the Gotal species, were disillusioned by the gray of his facial hair. A red fizzled over his eyes, but his shaping was far from threatening. He seemed like a wholesome fellow from afar, and albeit uncomfortable a thoughtful being. It was displayed in his demeanor, which was nearly overwhelmed by his lost of composure.

Gotal were a divine race of beings, and even the Hutt kept a careful eye on their happenings. Their grasp of mood and life about them was wide, and deprived many to hide their mind state.

Especially the hardened criminals that splashed over the scenery within Jibuu's halls. Somehow it did not disturb him, but Jibuu did specify that his puppets keep an eye on him. There was no room for trust amidst such a horrendous business. Trade of slavery and fluency in the language of crime delved in troubles that could not be coated with sociable nature. Albeit people could smile, be nice, handle things with care, but at the end they were lords of crime.

Room for love had been swept away too long ago.

A yawn bellow from his depths, and the Jibuu's eyes swung over into a near slumber. Despite the restlessness of his company, his mind had fell to a bore. There was no need to observe the Wookie's slay, he had seen many before.

Although at times it was amusing, his mind was a wreck from the day of devious decision making. Earlier there had been a large batch to be departed off into the wings of a heavy trade route. The cartel could easily be undone by a piracy without gaining notoriety for the mission throughout the undertone of the community. People did not respect what they did not know to, especially when crime was the worst of the intergalactic trades.

"Yahgan tu Gotal, uhm."

A swing of the hand, and his servants were off. He had all the food he required for the night, and more. Now was the time to relax and simply watch his pleasantries showcase themselves.

---------

The Gotal's eyes shifted. Abstract ruthlessness wrinkled his mind into a crinkle, his sensories alert at the alarm of death. Burns roared over in the air as the coil of anguish left a quiver down the furred critter's spine. Beside him sat a motionless astromech. The droid had been acquired with tedious bargains long ago, and he had latched onto it's assistance in many facets of his business.

Recently the word of defense against the servitude of Jibuu's Empire had grown. He had been requested for his regard in a number of managements. In all corners of the galaxy he had sprouted up cargo through the work of all kind. Ammo, blasters, speeders and other illicit manufactured goods merit him the watchful eye of crimelords. People employed him with the grace of order in times of disorder. Discord would not erupt or dismantle another Empire amidst the Hutt again. Never would a Jabba situation flush over.

Jibuu had prepared himself for such coming. Since the ordeal with the Jedi female there had been no assail against the refueled Empire. No one dare take a stand against Jibuu's formidable stance. A threshold without vice clasped over the darkened corridors of space, and Jibuu awaited his chance to revive what was once the greatest Empire beyond the Emperor's government. The Hutt had slowly fallen under the creed of the Black Sun, and with the vy for power amidst their ranks the hierarchy of Crime lords could only juggle the possibilities.

An inhale kept the Gotal at ease as his eyes shifted over. He watched with effortless scrutiny, observant to all hesitation amidst the large crowds. They had maneuver over to watch from their respected seats and windows at the chamber of death where the Wookie let out cries of angst. Pain coated over him more than his fur as the flames cooked him alive.

"What a day..."

---------

"Onus, das, jres..."

Delicate fur, stripped smoothly over with coats of black and orange pressed over into a dexterous spin. Spines assorted for acrobatic motion and maneuvers, as the display of species absurd and abstract attributes fuel on. Exotic steps splashed over as the claws of the beings lifted to the sky and clapped together. Clasped in a hold for a moment, the steps proceeded without further heed. Practiced flash and flare splashed through in perfected unison.

The Trianii species was a divine outsider. Their adventurous culture sent them abroad, but minds instilled in the indepedent ways. Never before had they been washed over with the propaganda of the Empire, or dislodged from their upbringings. A race of truth and serenity. Spread and smear over the galaxy with sheer effortless. In the felinoid voids of the eye a painted picture rested in unfinished illustration of incredible tales.

At the head of the operation moved a beauty. Oblique sharpness of her eyes slanted down, burrowed ever so slightly behind the tender brush of her orange coating. Black strips scribed underneath the lavish green in her eye. Lush with intrigue, curiosity and adventure, she maneuver gracefully. Step after step was done without effort. She was a true dancer.

The Hutt watched with a slight smirk as he stuffed a Nala tree frog in his mouth. Jibuu was pleased.

All eyes turned to the Trianii as she danced to the music of the band, a long time favorite of Jibuu's palace. The Gotal surveyed the scene, nearly everyone was distracted now. It was the moment he was waiting for.

It was as if his heart were attracted by some force of nature to the printed picture of his beloved which he carried in his breast pocket of the shirt he wore under his jacket. He loved her. He missed her dearly. Months ago she was taken from him by pirates, he learned she'd been sold as a slave through Jibuu's network but by the time he found her, she was nearly dead.

"She's too ugly for the late night streets. Nothing but manual labor for a slave like her. The voice of a gruff police officer said to him.

She died, with his unborn son, days later.

To blame Jibuu would be too much. Revenge on that scale was unattainable. To blame the man who made the purchase, who forced her into the slave labor life, who was responsible for the atrocities she whispered into the Gotal's ear with her dying breath... revenge was neccessary.

----

"Jame es Heer!" Cabal called to a scowling white twi'lek male past the Trianii and over the way of Jibuu. "Get your pastey butt over here."

The scowl on the face of the twi'lek deepened. "Frack it, Cabal, I'm busy. What do you want?"

"Saw you talking to Jibuu over there, is there a job coming up? I've got a favor to ask.''

"There's always a job coming up." The twi'lek said. "It's just a short one, not much though."

"You think Xau proper is gonna bite?"

"Doubtful, he'll send two droids at most. You might have a chance." The twi'lek looked inpatiently at the door. "What's your favor? I've gotta split."

"You know Phuket, that slimy Nemodian?"

"Handles the bounties." The Twi'lek confirmed.

"If I complete this bounty, I want that cutie Anbira'nar thrown in for good measure." Cabal leaned back in his seat, giving the twi'lek a sturdy look.

The Twi'lek chuckled. "You've really got a thing for this one, huh? What makes you think this one is gonna work out any better than any of the previous girls?''

"I've got a good feeling." Cabal concluded as he shifted his eyes towards the Gotal that had been bothering him.

----

"I tell you boys, that girl can dance." Mael said as he leaned back in the seat and let his eyes suck the image in. "If I owned her... Ooo, boy."

The trianii must have heard him talking as she granted him a sultry glance. The best of dancers were owned by no one. They spent their early lives in dance school, they were more skilled and capable than any slave and their prices ran high. Jibuu wasn't exactly notorius for throwing money out on expensive dancers, maybe once every few months he'd splurg on something better than slave quality. The Trianii was growing in popularity within Hutt circles, to not book her before she became too big was foolish.

She turned her head away from Mael and danced towards another. "I'm not used to being said no to, boys." Mael said to the group of three lackeys at the table.

"Boss, don't you think you should just relax." A Murachaun said. "I mean, after that ordeal on Nar Shadda..." He didn't continue to mention the details of what ended in murder. "She;s a bit more popular, I think it'd be best to..."

Mael wasn't even listening, he was entranced and waiting for the Trianii to turn her attention back to him. Come on, I know what you're really like. He thought to himself and he watched with evil intent. I wheel and deal girls just like you everyday, I know what you like.

"Excuse me sir." A naselly voice said and paused.

Mael turned with a sneer only to have his face contort to fear as he stared down the most peculiar blaster he'd ever seen.

The Gotal had spent much time developing the blaster he held at the head of the slave trader. It contained a chemical shot, undetectable to most droids, that would kill its victim over several days.

"Drop the gun, hornhead.'' Cabal said as he pushed the twi'lek out of the way and raised his blaster. "And don't even move Xau, this one is mine all mine."

"Hmm..."

Jibuu's strong voice crinkled under the muse of his being while his eyes tamper with the disarray to the side. Most of the crowd was quite preoccupied with the tendrils of exotic nature squeezed out by the Trianii trance. The Hutt had seen it all before, and thought tantalizing, he was still quite profound being. Beside the slime that coated his frame, and exquisite aroma perfumed over his body in a coated stench he was an intellect.

Observation was just another trophy he herald in the self of properties. Scrutinizing the scenery had always gave him a chance to intervene and prosper. If only it better him did he interject, and it seemed the situation at hand was another problem of his he would soon have to solve.

The blasters had been pulled, and his guest held his own. Albeit unique, it did not entangle the sharp view of the Palace owner. Instead, he was more puzzled over the happenings itself. Why would a simple business owner throw his hand into the scum and villain that scoured the room at all.

Mael stood motionless amidst the confusion. All was far too absurd for him to swallow whole. A stride forth and he would have been in the mix of dance, but instead he was shifted to a halt by a steady blaster. It was all too weird for him do anything stupid.

-----------

The Trianii pranced about, showcasing her ultimate dexterity. A smirk fester on her face as she glanced once more over at Mael, dazzled by the disturbing events that had occurred. Independence perfumed her being, held in the accord of her possessive aura. Attraction and allure set seeds for deception. She had her hand in the troubles stirring tonight.

Once before Mael had attempted to throw his hand in the litter of Trianii. Such an indepedent grouping clasped tightly on their culture, and clans. The dancer was just another face admix the fixture of feline. However, her family came first and so she set her stance for revenge. Although her sister had died in her rebuttal to the formidable man, she would not.

All she could offer was a glance, a few deceptive maneuvers and the Gotal would gain his chance to throw a blaster in the man's face. Death would be in that man's bed tonight, not the Trianii.

-----------

The Falleen was not amused. Beside her stood a disgusting figure, and affront were foolish buffoons. Dancing about, showcasing their body for useless cause of credits. All of it was below her, but not her status. She was simply a slave. Many about her were slave.

In one respect or another, the room was a complex of enslaved beings. Everyone around her was under the strings of the almighty ventriloquist. Credits controlled their everyday routines, rituals. The alpha and omega of their realm was the change in their pockets and signs in their bank. Simpleton and scum. Controlled by such a foolish symbol of power.

All in a day it could mean nothing. The prowess wield by a credit could be changed in the shift of currency and economy. It was the power behind credits that kept her caged to the side of the slimy Hutt.

How she hated credits.

-----------

Hornhead?

The Gotal's eyes grew tense. In credit to the demise of his beloved woman, he could not heed. He could not fault, he could only proceed. A month had designated him a chance underneath the guide of the Hutt and assistance of other to supply the man an end. Disgruntle behavior would not deal the man his worthy end, only calculated maneuvers.

A fire flare in the crimson of his orbs. Shimmer of the lit room glanced at the pair, revealing the thwarted gleam. Exposure of utter darkness capture the Gotal's once vividly exuberance soul. Times of aspiration had dismantle and thrown from their throne within, replaced by the grace of vengeance. Revenge could fuel the flame of any man, and grip the ankles to drag any being into the dim.

Although the Gotal saw Mael, he did not decipher the flesh, eye, and soul as nothing more than commodoties to a devil. The mirror told Gotal he was a hero. He would kill, and play victor to a scum. Yet in his venture he had intertwine his status with the inter-workings of the very element that swallowed his love and unborn child.

He was the scum.

The realization captured the mind, but it was too late. Already the hatred channel through his spine to his hand, and he pulled.

Mael would definately have death to accompany him to bed tonight.

In an instant Mael found his face burning from the blow dealt by the Gotal's blaster; the shot was a chemical, an extremely volatile acid. The instant following, the Gotal collapsed the crimson bolt from Cabal's blaster collided with his horned head. The room had died to silence, the band had stopped playing, the Trianii had cut short her dance. Cabal stared at the scene ahead, Mael was writhing on the floor and if he had a voice to scream with the room would be filled with his agony.

"Ho ho ho ho." Jibuu chuckled then erupted into a full belly laugh.

Shock and gossip began as whispers through the crowd until they grew to a feny of conversation. The band resumed its song and the Trianii gave one last glance at the fallen Gotal before she picked up where she left off.

Cabal walked to the alien corpse and the futilely struggling Mael pushing various onlookers out of the way. He leveled his blaster at Mael and fired, ending the incident completely.

"I figured you'd be over here, security." He said to Xau and the droids as he bent down to pick up the Gotal's weapon. "Isn't up to anything my rear..."

Xau said nothing for a moment, taking what he could through the droid's eyes regarding the details of the blaster. "It's a chemical based weapon, the Gotal must have designed it himself."

"Well no kidding, detective." Cabal said. "These damn aliens can't just operate like the rest of us do. They gotta complicate things with this kind of crap." He shook the blaster. "So no wonder your Bab-Prime buddies didn't pick up on it."

Cabal stood up and looked Xau proper in the eye. "Here's some advice: technology ain't ever gonna replace good ole instinct. I suggest you learn before someone important gets hurt and you loose your head."

Xau failed to follow Cabal as he walked past him and out of sight. Cabal was right on this one, there was no denying that. But that wasn't what was nagging him. Since Rayna had taken up her crusade against this particular slave ring the whole world, down to the core within Jibuu's palace, had become more dangerous. As he studied the deceased Gotal body, instinct told him this incident rooted deeper than he knew.

He eyes snapped open and for a moment she believed everything was alright. Like a fly in a spider's web she quickly realized how wrong everything was. Her eyes darted from the broken perfume bottle to the bed she had crept onto somewhere in the past six hours or so. Finally she sat up.

She didn't want to go through that door and face everything that had been amassing over the past few days. The one truely good thing in her life, her apprentice Jehkran, had already begun to fall apart. It seemed like everything she touched before the Sith ordeal turned to gold, now she had the touch of dirt.

She ignored the fear of going outside and walked through her formerly locked door. She stood for a moment in the door way, her face was shadowed and her eyes red; she looked like hell. In her immediate view Nadja was sitting in a chair, trinkering with a piece of machinery.

Rayna asked softly, "Where's Jehkran?"

There was no room to deny. When a combatant relied on his senses to capture all, and instinct to perfect every pulse, a man could not doubt his own feelings. However, he could distort the specs which saw them. Under the commonly cool, smooth demeanor that claimed Jehkran reside a minimized ill. Sickness of his Master stir the stew to an overflow.

An exhale damp the air as his clenched mouth open. Anguish cascade his eye, leaving a trickle of fear to slide down the side of his cheeks. Fixed to the irate addiction, he refueled as he barrage the invisible enemy. The trickle of his divine partner dazzled from the command of his hand. Flung to the heavens, it clasped onto his lightsaber at his waist.

Thrown to Jehkran's palm he swung himself forward. The thrust was intent, paired with absolute ire. Bristle visage illustrated his enlighten orbs into cowards under the pressure his temper. Madden flare splashed through his very being, pumping into his veins as the sizzle of his weapon sparked into the sounds of nature.

Denature thought left his motions impulse. The pulsate of his heart shook into a reach of new heights, deploying a smooth artistry forward. Suave clashed with brute as his arm flashed downward, baring the barrage of green onto the earthly tendril before him. The bronze mixed brown tarnished under the turmoil that coil the bark. Life unleashed itself in a crackling call to decimation, and the tree fell.

An animal's growl mused out the heave which lifted his chest up and down. He killed nature, and became one with it. Jehkran had turned to a demonic.

"Outside, Rayna." Nadja said without looking at her.

Her Force sense was a bit diminished now, and aftershock from the spice, but it usually returned within the hour she woke up. Regardless, she could feel him now outside. His emotion overwhelmed her the moment she found him in the Force. He was a whirlwind of confusion and torment, it was a side of him she had hoped to never see.

"Damn it..." She whispered as she burst into a near sprint, headed for the door.

"What did you say to him?" Nadja casually asked, knowing full well Rayna would hear her.

"Nothing, it's just... it's complicated." Rayna struggled to answer.

"You know..." Nadja chose her words carefully, still not granting Rayna a full look in the eye. ''If you keep this up, you're going to make things worse."

That could mean a lot of things, Rayna supposed that was the point. She said nothing and continued to exit the ship in search of Jehkran. He wasn't in the immediate area, everything around the ship seemed relatively calm. He must have ventured out farther through the dense woods. She urgently searched for his location through the Force. He wasn't more than a quarter klick away.

The Force returned to her body and filled her with its speed. Hastily she pushed branches and limps from her path running barefoot through the dense foliage towards the growing Force signature tearing through the woods.

"Jehkran stop." She said as she stopped before the path of destruction and its creator. She smelt of an abundance of perfume overwhelmed by sweat, clothed only in a loose white gown. The jungle had twisted and tangled her hair to a mess, twigs had torn her skin and she hardly noticed. Her feet were bloody yet she stood, albiet shaky, in a plea.

She whispered, "Please."

Voices.

A tendril of familiarity tickled at his heart, but he turned with sharpness. About him washed a violate nature that enhanced his maneuvers, eyes and thought. Even as the vision came to, he could not resist his ears from catching on far too early. Despite the rather sharp glare he gave, his eyes were late in the retrieval of the evidence. The murderer was Rayna.

She lay there only moments ago, body in a spell of self-torture. On the floor beside her was a broken glass and the floor was overtaken by a whirlwind. Number of arrangements had trickled to the surface in her rush of addiction. Day in day out he felt her weakened soul, but ignored. Ignorance was bliss in this instant. Always the young Padawan wondered, concerned about the absolute purpose behind the falter. At times she even avoided practice for slight moments as if in need to regenerate.

The knowledge he gained in a simple glance in a room merit a hopelessness that he had only been taken with once before. All the memories of demise arose in his depths, and dissent began. Falling into the abyss of his heavy heart, he felt the pressures of yesterday and the future capture him in a cage he could not escape. Anguish ran rampant over his soul, fueling his desires for utter destructions. Worlds deserved to perish. Everyone should feel the wraith that sent a barrage onto his very being.

No scars ran on his face, but there was no scabs for the wounds he held. Hope had vanished from his youthful eyes, and more than a plead would be necessary to pull them back.

"You..."

The sly, suave voice he carried had diminished. Under the threshold of darkness, a gloom fizzled into a mixture of agony and contorted anger. An aura emit about him, filled with his emotions. Even the world about him stray in the array of feelings. For a moment he was lost in the vision of Rayna. She had become a symbol of his hatred, an object to be destroyed. Decimation spread from her, and no longer could he safely trust her.

Not anymore...

Still the air captured the sizzle. Crinkling spurs flared through sound. The lightsaber was still activated.

"Why? Why spice?"

He finally asked, his tongue possessed by confusion and disturbance. Somewhere inside he wanted to retain the stirred heat, but he craved guidance. Isolation in such an operation would leave him nowhere but deeper in his fault.

How could he know? She didn't know that he knew anything for sure. Before her were two roads, the first was a path that began with a lie, the other was a rocky road. Both met at the same place, each had a different journey. Since she told him anything about her past, it was as if someone had pushed over the first of dominos in a long and interwoven line. Explaining something like her mission against the Sith had lead to her status with spice addiction in less than a day. This chain reaction had to be stopped, even if it meant a lie.

"Glitterstim and spice are not the same thing." She answered calmly. "There are more forms of spice than you can count, Ryll is one of them, it's in everyday medicines." She paused for a moment to give him more time to calm down as he stood on the recieving end of soothing waves through the Force eminating from her.

"Glitteryll is not glitterstim, glitteryll is a powerful medicine for memory problems." It was obvious where this was going. "Since the memories of life before the Sith started coming back, I've had issues with conflicting personalities. It keeps me sane."

She hated this, but she feared the truth and she feared more what he would think if he knew the truth. Once she ended the spice use, she would tell him; when she could be proud that she escaped its grasp herself. It was only right that he learn the whole story, but to pour it out all at once, evidenced by the destruction around them, was far to dangerous. She would expose it in doses.

"I am not denying that I have an issue with the medicine, I have an addiction to it. I was never diagonosed by a doctor, even patient confidentiality could not keep me from the inquisition. To reveal my mental status, would reveal that I am a Jedi. In the face of either a mental institution or a death camp in the Maw, I diagnosed myself and obtained the drugs without prescription." She paused for a moment. "Without proper instructions, I became addicted."

"I'm sorry I kept it from you. You have a right to know and now you do. It's a very personal battle for me, I'm dealing with it in my own way. In the midst of this business with Jibuu, facing down addiction is increasingly difficult. Once I feel this slave ring is taken care of, I'm going to go to the Corperate Sector and get it properly taken care of." She took his hands in hers as she made a committment she had convinced herself to believe. What started as a lie had transformed into a resolution she made with herself.

''I promise."

Emotion.

The fester of their tendrils sampled Jehkran's soul. A tamper scuffled at his chest as he took an inhale, his ears taking in the words. Anguish illustrated itself behind his eyes, meanwhile his other senses maintained an attune nature. Wind whistled past, catching his hearing for a slight moment before the conversation aside captivated his ears once more. The speech was carried with cadence and effort. Support of fear, loneliness dribbled underneath her direct tone, but Jehkran purposely disregarded it.

In his eyes she had become a vessel of lies.

Even as she ran through the details of his addiction, he could no longer concoct her as nothing more than a machine of peril. Human and flesh she was once more, and no longer an idol or figure to look upon for condolence or guidance. Once before he had placed Rayna upon a pedestal of Knighthood and absolutes. In his delightful paradigm she was set as a Jedi of old, wise and understanding. Despite the sparse disagreements on certain courses and options she always delved into a herd with utter sense. Never did her step falter into a stutter where he could disable her, and place her into a box. She intertwined such grand abilities, still unreachable, and he could only watch.

Jehkran once looked upon her this way...

Once...

Not anymore...

"Promise?"

The whisper was distorted into the breeze as the breach between the two sustained. There was no area for her to hear the lull of his voice as it nearly croaked under the pressure of the demise within. Trust had faded from his depths, his conscious, his logic and in return was the purchase of disdain. Although his crystallized orbs sat in his head without emotion, behind settled an agony only birthed from a tear.

A ripple effect crinkled into his ear as he listened to the perils of the many vulgar words spitting about in the confines of his head. He could only review the scene with obscenity and pain.

Rayna had hurt him...

Bad...

Not a word displayed the affects. Instead he treaded forth, past her, toward the ship where he once ejected. The memory of his run, and the blur of colors still wrestled with his mind. Instilled in his vision, he saw the moment as if it happened presently. The ache of the realization captivated his mind, but not his tongue.

Finally he used his word.

"Lets go."

And he kept on, treading toward the ship.

Jehkran lead the couple into the ship, Rayna chose to stay behind and enter in disassociation with him, as clearly he preferred. Unlike the usual catching Nadja off guard and in the middle of some ship upkeeping task, she sat as in wait. It seemed as if she knew what happened.

As Jehkran and Rayna attempted to part the group gathering before it had even formed, Nadja called to them both. "If we are to attack Jibuu anytime soon, our window of oppertunity is closing."

Rayna merely glared at her with a puzzled look. Granted there was always a time when an attack was more likely to be effective than others, Nadja's voice seemed to imply something had changed.

Rayna enquiried, "What do you mean? Has something happened?"

Nadja confirmed, "It's all over the smugglers communication routes, even some newsfeeds. Apparently a Gotal," She paused for the most brief of seconds. "Tried to conduct some sort of suicide attack. Unsuccessful though. Security is being stepped up, some say Jibuu is becoming paranoid even."

Rayna was at a loss for words. Suicide attack? "What happened to the Gotal?" She dared to ask.

"Alive, I think. He's slated for death but no one is apparently privy to know when or where." Nadja looked towards the silent and brooding Jehkran then back at Rayna. "I'd recommend we move while there's some element of fear in his court. Fear is blinding."

The whole of the conversation between Jehkran and herself came to mind, their strong relationship was nearly at its breaking point. Deep down she feared he might walk out and away from her. At this moment it was painfully clear to her that she needed him. The past day, twisted and viewed through a different lense, stood testament to the fact that for all the pain it had caused her he was a force of good driving through her.

"Jehkran will decide our next move." Her olive branch had been extended at the risk of loosing all her objectives she had strived for since her realization. For all the training over the past months she had given him, he'd graduated to a new level of teaching her. "Your training is complete. If you'll have it, I'd like it if you stayed."

The body maintained an ignorance, but the face was engulf in response. Jehkran's slender eyes rattled into large orbs of focus, the diamonds within glistening in all their silver and blue beauty. He gazed off into the distance, looking past Rayna as her words began sinking into his depths. Rummaging through his pores, he processed the sentences into his heart for consumption.

It was a tasty meal.

Pride rumbled from his sole, slinging to his head, as he awaited a calm to run by. Silence took the world, but it was only for a moment. Jehkran was still apparent of the ship he stood upon, yet he did not care. Extollment was a gracious behavior, especially on his supposed Master's part. Rarely did she switch her demeanor to deplete her defense. The facade he commonly say faulted, withering away as the cool air condition sparked on.

The door had closed behind them at their entrance, but still the balancing chill of the outside clamor at the creases. All the remnants of the conversation beyond the ship had melted away from his mind, and all was left was a burning bush raging within. Jehkran was prepared to take the lead, and his face finally returned to it's calm. An earnest tone clasped his throat as he spoke. There would be no room for mistake.

"We will sabotage. The only rational entrance would be through disguise, so we may become closer to the Hutt.

I guard, I suggest. Their rank is already as one of the trusted figures of the Hutt. Anything else could easily be suspected as a foe, even his own Bounty Hunters. No one, if this Gotal ruined a party, is to be trusted if not directly underneath the Hutt's slimy thumbs.

Can you get that done Nadja? Can ya find a point where we can safely enter in the complexes structure without a direct disturbance to anyone beside the guards?"

"I, uh-" She was reeling for the surprise of Rayna's relinquishment. "I mean, yeah. We don't know enough about the palace quite yet, but with some discreet searching around I can come up with something within a day."

Rayna listened as the two organized the plan. Jehkran mentioned disguises, she hoped he wouldn't as about Force illusions. She was horrible at them for start, how she could teach him within the alloted time was beyond her.

She said, "We're going to need material disguises; I'm hardly a master of illusions. Supplement disguises I can manage though. I hope you know a good costume shop."

She silently thanked the Force, she couldn't dare to attack Jibuu alone and live. Though she was confident he was ready, she couldn't help but second guess herself. What if he wasn't? Regardless of all the recent tribulations, they were going to make the move she was striving for since her realization. Yet what seemed like a victory was cloudy. There was one thing that she had yet to tell Jehkran, he would find out when she was ready.

A calm swept over Jehkran as his demeanor seem to refine under the pressure. Not even a punch would destroy his chilled composure. An instilled feel of faith rolled into the depths of his heart, and the percussion of the future roared over his eardrums as Rayna spoke. The hands normally tinkering with his lightsaber or tools of the Force were delayed activity, and holster in his pockets. A smirk trickled over his lips as he glanced over at the inquirer. Query flung over Rayna's eyes, and Jehkran could nothing but regard it with confidence.

"I am sure that the guards we encounter will give us the garbs we need."

Amidst the words nestled an absolute suave, savvy and cunning nature dismissed previously. The new status as equal had propelled him in his own, in his rightful place. He felt comfortable looking in Rayna's eyes aswell...nothing seemed out of sorts about the situation at all. The only problem arose from the abscence of change. Silence consumed the room for a moment as Jehkran pondered only a second.

They hadn't taken off yet.

"Lets get this show on the road Nadja. Ya' know were not gettin' any younger, and Jibuu just gettin' uglier."

---
Focus She had to focus. Her mind was a freeway of thought, possibilites and worries passing each other through her brain. There were two guards ahead of her and that was the task at hand. From her hiding place they could see only night and she could see them illuminated in the watch lights of the palace. She waited for the moment to strike, her mind bobbing back and forth from future possibilities to the task at hand.

Just a little longer. In her hand she clutched her lightsaber hilt, the other was firmly pressed against her belly searching for one of a few battle wounds that adorned her body. She was nervous, but she believed it was only anticipation manifesting itself. She wanted to charge in the palace of sin before her. She wanted to burn it to the ground. Jehkran, however, was in charge now; reprisal as she saw as fit would eventuate in due time.

Between the bright light and heavy darkness the guards looked like stocky battle droids. They appeared to be covered completely armor but she had faith the guards appearance was at least partially fallacious. Looking tough was easier, and cheaper, than being tough. She measured the length of dirt between her and the two guards meeting at the door. Force aided speed could get her there quick enough to achieve surprise. She was sure she could mute her swift footsteps as well. All according to pla, all it needed was Jehkran to initiate the sequence.

Come on, Jehk. She prodded telpathically, almost playfully. "Let's go!"

Silence blanketed the night, and the beauty of the day eroded. The only symbol of light shimmer iridescently as four eyes peered from the distance at the guards. Since the arrival there was only a faint amount of plausible hope to clasp onto, but the young Jedi Jehkran Dmath had gripped it ever so tightly. Faith rode him through the ways of the Force, carrying the two Padawan before the very gates to freedom for many.

A smile tatter the youth's face as he sat in solitude, but far from cloister from the world. All the subjects dangled in his senses as his being opened to the smooth wave of the Force. Everything existed within his eyes and even as he blinked, knowledge overwhelmed him as he prepared for his next step. Preparation sent tendrils through his spine, throwing him into a speedy dash from the dim.

Step after step came like an enraged animal, yet the task was done without guile or rage. Before the shine of the light hit Jehkran's face he was above, and beyond, his feet coming down for the land between the confused guards.

The signal had been set, and accentuated with the buzz of his lightsabers. Soon enough the shackles to the slaves would fall, as would the guards who supported the vile life.

The body encapsulating shawl the guards wore lifted from the fallen body and wrapped itself around Rayna's shoulders. Time was a commodity, they only had moments to disguise themselves and dispose of the fallen guards. She flicked her wrist as the newly exposed body of the former guard sailed towards the distant rocks where she once hid. Between her hands she held tightly the copper colored helmet, its faceplate of blackened transparisteel. To think, she thought as she silently slid it over her head, she had suffocated a man whose head was surrounded by this helmet only a minute ago.

She looked to Jehkran, his figure enhanced by the technology in the helmet. He had opted for a less brutal approach in disabling his guard. Holding the staff that came with the outfit close to her she nodded towards the east. The replacement guards should be arriving soon, then they would enter the palace unabated. She could nearly taste vengence on her tongue, justice would be carried out at the tip of her lightsaber.

A pain shot through her arm, she was clenching the staff so tightly it felt as if she'd strained a muscle in her forarm. With a long exasperating sigh that echoed through her helmet, she realized rage was growing through her. She could keep it under control, she told herself. She could do this without the darkside, unlike before.

Her hand left the staff and touched against the shawl, she had brought two lightsabers. One was Rayna's, the other belonged to Sarin. She stared at Jehkran through the transparisteel, another secret that she had never told him. Though she had alluded to it before, she was hardly honest about it. No matter, after this night he would be full of questions for her. It would come up and he would know another dirty secret of hers.

Frack, how could she do this to him? How could she keep the truth from him like this, as if she even had the right. He comitted himself to her training, he was honest with her. No, she didn't lie to him she only witheld the truth because he didn't ask. She felt hardly justified standing in front of her enemy's palace in the dead of night. Then she noticed the figures approaching through the darkness to take their place as guards.

"Your plan, you lead." She said quietly to him as she waited for him to go to meet them.

A silence eroded the scheme of tranquility in the night. The wander of iniquity found home in the surroundings as Jehkran stood ahead, his newly gloved palm taken up the staff. Tutelage of his former Master had exposed many attributes of the Force, but never could he defeat plight. A tight grasp on the staff lay as display to his continuous nervousness. Fear was known, his mind keen to the obscene and still unseen.

Possibilities flooded Jehkran's mind as the atrocities and catastrophic situations place portraits from his imagination down the corridors of his veins. The slightest step seemed almost meaningless. Before he had rated the handling of the mission, even expected such an encounter, yet still doubt overwhelmed his mind.

An inhale blessed the foolish qualms. Despite the advancement of the exterior, his spirit was in true power. Submission delivered his heart, will, and mind to the ways of old. All the messages Rayna had drilled into him, the meditations had been for righteous reason, and it's purpose was to be on demonstration. The realization tingle his spine, sending words to his mouth.

"Halt, command our post. We must report about our findings, immediately."

Not a heed allowed Jehkran to stumble, and before he knew it his feet were in a rush. Trot after trot led the young soldier of the Force through the trouble. The two guards couldn't even intersect the two disguised paladin's pathway before they were off in the distance of the halls.