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The Cathedral of Da'ala, Saridyn
Cloud stood up, his body still shaking from his Bal Kar (Divine Vision or Divine Prophecy) He stumbled forward, and tripped on his scimitar.

He kneeled down before the grand statue of Da'ala, godess of Truth. He picked up his sword and sheathed it. He touched his bruises gingerely and decided they were of no worries.

He only had to worry about how to approach Him. The one revered by his forefathers. His village's protector.

The Protector was in the city, if his Bal Kar was to be taken in the Truth of Da'ala. Cloud had seen him, offering his services to a woman that had been found fallen into a fountain.

He had to find Him. He had no other choice...

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Of Naer the Shy on Corbos

As Naer finished his drink, savoring the cooling of his troat after the fiery spices of the upper portion of the beverage, the Ithorian finally got to the point, and made his job that much easier...

If the Rodian could have smiled as a human, he would have; the Ithorian not only tried to sound calm, but look calm as well... and achieve neither. To an untrained eye, she would have looked like a gangster off of the B-Vid Nar Shaddaa Crime holos. Which was laughable in itself; Naer was a... businessman, to put it lightly. But he was no gangster.

However, the simple fact that she had to try - for her could tell she was having to concentrate on staying calm - made her seem all the more vulnerable. But Naer had learned the hard way not to underestimate anyone... especially politicians.

"I don't just think I can do better; I know I can. I have," and he held out his hands to demonstrate, "the entire sector under my influence. And I have for a good while; I'm sure you've noticed something awry in your neighboring systems."

He proceeded to clasp his hands, place his elbows on the table, arms vertical, and look straight-faced at the Ithorian.

"I have a healthy number of smugglers ready to take peice of the fabled 'Corbos Run.' And they're willing to pay just about anything to get in on the action. I propose-" Naer leaned back in the booth, ready to leave as soon as he finished, for something was surely about to happen; as a Human would say, he could feel it in his gut, "that you get a cut of he deal, if you help me get things started. Say, thirty percent of my profits, right into your pockets."

Not waiting for a reply, he stood up and slid a business card over to Robyn, saying, "If you accept, contact me at this number. I'm staying in-system for a few days, but be quick, please..."

At that, he finally saw what had been eating at him; three Weequay Bounty Hunters were slowly converging on his location, taking the long way around the patrons and service 'droids, trying not to act suspicious. Not that he couldn't take on three Weequay blindfolded and both hands behind his back, but he couldn't risk an encounter somewhere so public.

It was then that he noticed they were definately amateurs; his best escape route, the front door, was clear away from the three Bounty Hunters. Too easy.

Slowly, he picked his way through the crowd, once elicitng the agitated, feral growl of a Wookiee, and quickly made it to the front door. As he went through the door, he began to bolt through the semi-crowded walkways. It was then he realized his folly, as a sniper bolt came dangerously close to his person. The sight caused a good bit of commotion, making things much more difficult to navigate through.

However, not another shot was fired in his direction, even as he boarded an open-air skytaxi.

* * *

300 Astalair Hotel, Room 312

Naer kicked aside the litter in his apartment. He hadn't left his place of residence in such disarray; someone had been here, looking for him. That much was obvious. But who, he could never be sure. There were hundreds of beings who had put bounties on his head, and hundreds more looking for him. Good luck to them; hewasn't easy to kill.

As he shifted through his disaster of an apartment, he noticed a piece of paper pinned to the wall. He looked at it closely trying to read the miniscule writing.

"If," he began to read aloud, "you are reading this, then my compatriots didn't get to you in time. In which case, I do believe you should start running; I'm watching you. Signed... Vanheart the Ruthless." Recognition clicked; Vanheart was his former Black Sun contact. Then realization finally set in as the words from the note seeped in... and as he saw muzzle flash from the building across the airlane.

He dove for cover, landing painfully on a sharp object- his blaster rifle, he realized, as he picked it up from underneath him. He checked the pack; it was at near-full power. He was set-and-ready to hold out, until the local police force came. If he didn't, they would only find a messy room and a blood stain or two.

He could hear heavy footsteps outside the room, but it would take a minute for them to properly slice his locking mechanism. in that short span of time, he pushed the citizen's emergency button on the wall behind him. Better to explain why I'm on the hit list of a pirate than be dead, he thought as the door slowly began to open...

Tag - Nick


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Of Trasii Yelnar on Ossus

As the Grandmaster ate of the fruit of the tree, Trasii wanted to yell out, not in rage, but in joy. She had finally been assigned a new master, and, thankfully, a healer! Not caring that her eyes would betray her inner joy, not caring that Metellos was just as bad as Corsucant, not caring - rather, remembering - that her first master was gone, she bowed, a little too hastily, with respect to the Grandmaster, and said, "Thank you, Grandmaster Donn."

Forgetting that the Grandmaster had not exactly dismissed her, she hurriedly went off to her quarters to pack her things...

* * *

Onboard Jedi Transport 361784 AKA "Skyhawk"

The view of Metellos was breathtaking, just like Corsucant. Despite its lack of natural water formations, its floating cities held such splendor and magnificence that, for the moment, Trasii didn't much care. She had taken a long, soothing bath, and only got out whe the pilot came over the ship's comm, saying they were exiting Hyperspace. Her skin was no longer as dry as it had been on Ossus, but no doubt it would get worse on the urban planet.

The pilot, who she was standing behind, began standard procedures; she had noticed already that he was very quick and efficient in everything he did, even when it came to eating meals, which there had been two of since she had come aboard. But, she had also found out, he had a very active sense of humor.

"Ektra City Air Traffic Control, this is Jedi Transport Skyhawk, requesting vector and destination. Over."

"Ektra City Air Traffic Control here. Copy that, Skyhawk. Sending vector and destination. Your temporary registration number is 55276. Repeat. Over," came the reply, filtered with thec noise of transmission through a smog-filled atmosphere.

The pilot grinned, despite himself, and looked up at the Mon Calimari youth, mouthing, Stiffs.

"Repeat, number is 55276. Over."

"Good. Everything checks out... Ektra City Air Traffic Control, over and out."

The pilot flipped off the comm switch and sat back, letting autonav take care of the easy landing. Typical transport pilot behavior.

Moments later, the transport was landed and the young Mon Calimari was walking towards the innards of the city; hopefully, the buildings had air ducts, for the atmosphere nearly made her choke.

She felt a 'shockwave' of air as the transport lifted off and began its return trip to Ossus.

Now, she just needed to find Master Agar...

Tag - Nick