(( Please, RP decently if you post here...no one-liners, or I shall eat you. ))
The sand whirled around and a man could be seen with his eyes forced shut and his mouth sealed. Damn Tatooine. Damn sandstorms. Damn on him for not thinking of bringing something to keep sand out of his nose. All he wanted was to get to the cantina and have a drink...but nooo. Mother Nature clearly had a deep, fiery loathing for him and wanted to see him destroyed.
Destroyed!
So, Aarynndo Dana was forced to stand there, still as a rock until the wave of sand stopped. It did eventually, and he immediately bolted for the cantina.
Once inside, he shook himself and brushed sand out of his hair and then sneezed hard enough to remove the small grains that were lodged in his nostrils - painfully, of course. Upon looking up from his sneeze, he was immensely glad that he wasn't wearing his republic uniform. All sorts of swarthy types. He'd probably get mauled.
He sat down and snapped his fingers once, as a Twi'lek waitress came over. "Some of your ale, please," he said. Thankfully, she understood him. He could not try and speak Twi'lek without totally butchering the language. Last time he tried to politely say 'hello', he sent a man running away screaming.
When his ale was brought back, he took a deep swig and grinned. If he was lucky, the freighter he was..er. Supposed to be on, wouldn't leave for another day or two. Good stuff, the ale was. Maybe he'd look around some if the sandstorms ever stopped. Talk to the locals, buy the droid the chief had wanted. Yeah, that'd be a good idea...
(( Basically...this is just a pure, simple RP. No huge plots or anything. It's just for fun. Oh, and you may NOT be a character from KoToR I or II. I guess you could be a Jedi...but for realism sake, keep yourself as a Padawan. No 'OMGSOPOWERFUL' people please. ))
(( Fine....This is an innocent bump with an RP attached to it...hope that's okay seeing as I've clearly been ignored. :P ))
Despite it all, the man could definitely say that the cantina was a excellent place to get lost in. None of the colonel's annoying cronies were trying to track him down, and if they were they clearlly weren't having any luck. He grinned, thinking of the oafs thundering down the road, kicking up sand as they went...idiots.
Still, despite the fact that he felt very alone, he kept his blaster rifle slung over his back in the harness he had fashioned. Tatooine was a dodgy place, and he preferred not to get mugged and murdered simply because he wasn't an outlaw and he had a few credits. He took another deep swig of the ale, smiling. The splash of liquid was soothing, especially after loitering around on a planet with two suns.
He looked around wryly and blinked. Twi'lek dancers...what was the big deal? He couldn't see why anyone particularly enjoyed watching them. What...did the fact that they looked like that had slugs on their shoulders interest anyone? There were many human women he thought looked much better...to each his own, he supposed. Even if their own was yellow and had headtails.
*A well covered man enters the cantina, his clothes dusty and sand-whipped. He pulled off his hood, revealing striking, cold steel-vlue eyes and somewhat tousled silver-and-gold hair. His cloak wrapped itself around him as though by the wind. He shook it free, dusting himself off. Two, somewhat large and powerful-looking blasters hang from his belt, as well as a slender, tube-like object. He quickly pushes the object back, as though he doesn't want anyone to see it. He walks forwards, past Aaryyndo, and up to the barkeep.*
Man: The strongest you have.
Barkeeper: *Surprised* Are you sure?
Man: Yeah.
*The barkeeper goes back a little, preparing the toughest drink that he has. He soon coes back with a large glass, and hands it to the man, who throws down a 20-cred chit.*
Man: That enough?
A girl with pitch black hair and silvery blue eyes pushed her way into the cantina, running her fingers through her hair to get as much sand out of it as possible.
"Bad day to be out," she muttered. She wore a long black cloak which concealed whatever weapons she might have, but as she moved for an out of the way corner of the cantina, it opened just enough to show a blaster pistol and lightsaber.
"Nothing hard, please," she said when asked what she wanted to drink. "Water, if it's clean... something non-alcoholic... no, no, that will be just fine. Thank you."
She leaned against the wall nearest to her and sighed, happy to be out of the storm.
a man walked in with some mandirlan(sp) armor
nasty storm out there
*The man sits down, eying those around him. His features can't be easily read, for his face is as unmoving as stone. He looks at the approaching Mandalorian-armor clad figure.*
Man: Yes it is...
*The man regards this question with quiet thinking. He had never freely given his name out, nor did he give it to those who asked... they were usually bounty hunters, looking for a kill. But he trusted this one.*
Man: I am Raphael Griffinhart... now that I have given you my name... what is yours?
"I hate sandstorms," the girl in the corner muttered, again dragging her fingers through her hair to release another cascade of sand. A waitress brought her a glass and the girl took it, thanking the waitress. She took a drink, but almost immediately spit it out.
"You call this water?" she exclaimed, staring into the glass. With a small sigh, she shrugged and took another drink, this time managing to keep it down, but making a horrible face. A shiver of disgust rolled down her spine.
"Surely you know what moisture farmers are," the girl said when the waitress returned. "I want their produce, not whatever this is."
"That's rather expensive," the waitress objected. The girl shrugged.
"Do I look like I care about price?" she demanded. "Give me what I asked for!"
The waitress nodded and returned with true water. The girl put the glass to her lips and drank the entire glass in less than three seconds. Without a glance, she paid for the water and sat back to watch what was going on in the cantina.
*Raphael looks at the gril with a blank, unquestioning, unemotional look. He turns away and looks at the man who asked for his name.*
Raphael: So tell me, what is your name?
Lalasko observed the conversations from several tables away. He didn't mind being the janitor for the cantina. He learned a lot of interesting things from the conversations he overheard. Sometimes they actually proved lucrative. In the long run, usually, though several times in the past he had had "instant payoffs", so to speak. Like the time when the two men talking ended up killing each other. That had proved to be a financially sound venture, on his part. Both men had 2000 credits on thier persons.
This particular batch of people seemed different from the usual rifraf that washed up in the cantina, though. Lalasko eyed the Mandalorian armor one of the men wore. Unfortunately no provocations seemed to be in the works. Lalasko could only hope that maybe one of the men would mention where he hid his "secret hoard of riches", and Lalasko could get there first. Fat chance. That had only happened once. And it had cost him his eye. And his ship. So really, it wasn't worth it, no matter how dashing the eyepatch made him look. "For now", he thought to himself, "lets just sit back and watch. No need to rush, I'm on break anyway." He leaned back in his chair, watching the group of people. ...
*Raphael turned away from the man clad in Mandalorian armor; he wasn't replying. Raphael instead set onto drinking, watching, waiting for something, anything, to happen. Something that he could do things about. A fight, or a revolution. A revolution... in only an hour?*
Raphael: Impossible...
Finishing her water, the girl stood and began walking slowly around the room. She seemed a little irritated to be kept inside due to a sand storm and kept looking at the door.
"Gotta love a storm," she muttered sarcastically. With another glance at the door, she returned to her seat in the corner.
*There wasn't much to do. Raphael was a loner; he didn't like companions. Now he didn't have anyone to talk to. Normally, that wouldn't be so bad, but he was trapped amongst other people. He was getting edgy, and bored. He'd rather be out there, doing something, helping others. But no, the damn sandstorm kept him stuck inside. He looked at the girl again. Something about her interested him, but he couldn't put his finger on it... it wasn't an attraction; Raphael had been trained not to feel things like that.*
The girl knew she was being watched and she didn't like it. She took a moment to glance in the man's direction, but quickly acted as though she had lost interest and directed her eyes elsewhere. What could he want that made him stare so hard?
Lalasko enjoyed feeling the undercurrents flowing through the bar. It reminded him of the old days, during those tense negotiations. The man in mandalorian armor seemed to be drunk, or very intent on becoming so. No interest there, yet. The other man, who had tried unsuccessfully to rouse the inebriated mandalore, seemed to be flitting his gaze near a woman sitting at the bar seat nearby. Lalasko surpressed a smile. This kind of thing wasn't uncommon, but always played out differently. He shifted in his chair, so he could see them with his good eye.
The girl's sharp eyes caught Lalasko's slight movement and she glanced at him. As she had done with Raphael, she quickly acted as though her interest in Lalasko was short. For a short time, she stared at the wall opposite her seat. Then, with a little sigh, she stood and went to the door, as if wishing she could see through it to know if the sandstorm had run its course. But she knew the storm still raged and, with a sigh of defeat, she returned to her place in the corner.
"Blasted storms," she muttered, glaring at the door from her seat. Though it seemed her attention was no longer on the two men watching her, her mind had not left them. She sighed slightly, wondering what they wanted... why were they staring?
*It was easy to see she was confused. But then, she had a right to be; when two men begin to stare, one can't but help wonder. Raphael mused over this thought. If she had been so disturbed by his attentions, why not ask? But he decided not to delve; humans had such confusing motives and emotions. Instead, he relaxed a little, waited for the storm to end so he could get out and about.*
The girl finally gave up her attempts to act as if she wasn't aware of what was going on around her. She looked directly at Raphael, staring straight into his eyes. Her gaze was not unfriendly and her curiosity showed in her eyes. Finally, she stood and approached him.
"You seem to be wondering about me," she said, her voice quiet. "You stare, but outward appearances are often decieving. I imagine that you are the kind of man who has a clear understanding of this."
She sat in the seat directly across from Raphael. "Tell me. What is it that you want? Why do you stare?"
OOC: Goody, finally something happens...
BoT:
*Raphael is not surprised by this question.*
Raphael: Hmm... it's just that you seem quite interesting. Most others here are quiet, but you, you are unbridled, unreserved, candid. It just struck me as strange, as most other humans would have kept quiet in a quiet environment... It's nothing. An odd feeling is all.
Lalasko, who had found himself drifting off into a light sleep, came sharply to his senses. The girl, who seemed to be slightly on edge, had gone over to the other man, and talked directly to him. The man replied. Interesting. Few strangers chose to converse in such an environment. He blinked. Strangers? Yes, they had to be. Thoughts entered his mind. Did they have a ship? Where were they going? He quickly banished these irrational possibilities. Lalasko promptly removed his gloves, suddenly becoming very interested in his hands, as he listened to the figures at the bar.
The girl smiled and took a seat. "Such interest had better be satisfied."
She offered him a hand. "I'm Nadira."
*Raphael shook her hand gently, as though he were unaccustomed to doing so.*
Raphael: I am Raphael Griffinhart. It is a pleasure to meet you.
"So tell me a little about yourself," Nadira said, smiling. "Only as much information as you feel safe giving." She glanced toward the door. "I get the feeling we'll be here for a while, so we may as well get to know each other."
Her eyes brushed over Lalasko again before returning to rest on Raphael as she waited for his response.
*Raphael cntemplates her words for a bit.*
Raphael: I am the son of a famous man on my homeworld. He married my mother, who was said to be the most beautiful woman in the galaxy... maybe so, maybe not. So was undoubtedly the most beautiful one at home. My father was a soldier, turned politician. But unlike others, he had morals, things that he actually believed in. Maybe that's what drew my mother to him... I would not know. But soon after their marriage, my mother gave birth to me and my Brothers... triplets. We would have been identical if it were not for or somewhat striking superficial differences. I was always considered the 'elder', as I had always heeded mother and father to the utmost. I kept my brothers in check... as much as I needed to, anyways. I was born as you see me: silvered hair, streaks of gold, eyes of blue-grey steel. I had always been one for the outdoors, although sometimes I would devote entire days, if not weeks, to studying. I read what I could read, and if I could not read it, my mother or father would.
My other brothers were truly different than I, both in demeanor and appearance, although we were triplets. Tyravael, the maturest of the us, was born with white hair, grey, nearly white, eyes. At first the doctor had thought him blind. He was the read of us. He would read all he could. SOmedays we had to force him outside, he was so fond of sitting in his room.
Brother Razael wa the flamboyant, rash, wild of us three. He was born with hair of red and black, screaming and kicking at the doctor, his wild red eyes shooting daggers. Only when he was with mother was he happy. Only mother and father did he treat with respect. To his brothers, he gave us brotherly love, but was still immature and mean at times, but never to truly offend us. Razael was fond of running around outdoors, sometimes getting lost in the woods upon the mountain behind our home for days on end, only to return with scars and torn clothing. Mother always wanted to teach him sewing so she herself would not need to mend his. He was always late with his school work, and although he didn't do well in school, he at least learned.
At a young age, around our eighth year of life, mother and father agreed that we would ned to be trained, as scholars, philosophers, and warriors. Our homeworld was in a constant state of disturbance, as we did not have a world government. So we left to an academy, our country's best military academy. Only the best soldiers were sent there and at fisrt the instructors were incredulous at our age. The youngest trainee there aside from us was 26 years our senior. But it was soon apparent that we were unique in some way. I later learned what it was. One of the instructors... she had these deeps, dark green eyes. She always spoke in riddles, and was our teacher and my mentor... I learned who she was later, and what she was teaching me... she was what many call a "Gray Jedi", an exile of the Jedi, trained in the Force. She trained me in it... and my brothers. I learned that fo some reason, my family was strong in the Force, although my parents had not known it.
We trained hard, both physically and mentally, for all of 19 years. Things happened... our country was trying to develop a way to make their soldiers stronger than ever... and my brothers and I, long with 72 others, were chosen... ironically, the older ones died. only a dozen of us were left... I did not have the full details of what happened at that time... but I learned later. They changed the makeup of our bodies, of our genes. They put foreign materials into us, so as to strengthen us... and in doing so, killed 63 good soldiers....
After that, my brothers and I were released. We went back home... and were surprised. Mother was sickening, and father was suffering from depression. It seemed that many of our later letters to home did not get through... and so they took me for dead. Mother was sick for us; father was suffering as he had thought that he had sent us to our deaths. Everything bettered for a while... and then we were attacked.
Our entire country was attacked. We fought back, but even then, not much could be done. Our enemy had unleashed a horrible weapon upon us... diseases, nuclear weaponry... those that survived disease died of radiation poisoning. Those that lived through the radiation died of disease. Those that survived both soon commited suicide or gave up hope. Soon thereafter our country was occupied by the enemy.
Father, mother, and the three of us had hidden away underground. We soon joined up with a rebel faction dedicated to doing anything and everything to defeat our enemy. We stole weapons, technology. My brothers and I soon made great strides forwards in the struggle because of our specialized training. But in only a year, we were discovered. They stormed our major base, killed everyone... except my brothers and I. We fought, fired upon them, did everything we could. We soon escaped in prototype fighters that we had stolen from them in a past operation. We flew away, and the enemy thought that they had won. But it was not to be. We came back, destroyed every single one of their bases.We gathered an army, decimated the enemy, flew in battles in the skies in our ships. Those fighters they developed... powerful, fast, deadly. Nothing like them in this galaxy. We destroyed our oppressors... Tyravael, seeing that the enemy had withdrawn, decided to stop the fighting. But Razael wanted to avenge all the deaths. I reasoned with him, got him tocalm. "Two wrongs do not make a right."
After this horrific incident in our life, we parted, flew away from home. I know not where my brothers wander, but I decided to go to Coruscant, ask the Jedi to allow me to join their Order.
I told them of my 'Master'. She had been well-known in the Order, not famous, but well known. She had left because of some incident in her life. They accepted me, reluctantly,. I do not know if they were violating their own code in doing so... I never truly learned all of it. But I was taken up by a new 'Master'. He and I were friendly to each other... but I always kept my distance. I was never a trusting person. So I learned. And in learning, I thought. And in thinking, I saw. And in seeing, I knew. I knowing, I left. I had seen the problems of the galaxy, if only for a brief momen. I decided that, although as good and great as the Jedi Order was, I was not meant to be. I told them that I was leaving the Order of my own volition, that it was not of anothers actions or of a dark calling. I told them that it was only because I felt it was not my place. And it wasn't.
Ever since leaving the Order, I have wandered, taking the odd job. A soldier-of-fortune, a bounty-hunter. But I only took those jobs that appealed to me... I was soldier with morals. I put everything I had into my ship, and soon mastered piloting it. I was renowned in my own circles as a great pilot. I tried my hand at running trade, and protecting merchants, and soon gathered many credits. But I dod not use it for my own self. I gave much to charitable causes, those that I knew were worthy. And with what I had left I begin to modify my ship, buy and then modify armor, creating my own personal suit. It is light, but protective, and augments my own natural abilities. I wear under this cloak.
My arrival on this planet was nothing out of the ordinary. I was looking for a job to do, for some work. I was reccomended o this cantina. As I was about 3/4 of the way here, the storm struck. And now here I am.
I have talked enough about myself, and I find it impolite to force one such as yourself to listen to me. Tell me of yourself, please.
For a time, Nadira did not answer. She seemed deep in thought. Suddenly, she stirred and looked at Raphael again. A small smile came over her face.
"You have given me more than I expected," she said. "You are very open about your past." She shifted slightly in her seat. "Therefore I find it difficult to do otherwise."
"I was a princess on my planet," she said. "My father, Valter was king. When I was seventeen, a band of mercenaries broke into the palace and killed my mother, Rayna. My father and I escaped before they could find us. To prove that he was not afraid of them, my father mooved us back to the palace. In the end, he too was killed.
"When I turned nineteen, my father was struck down by a man I once thought of as a friend. Adar. He tried to kill me as well, but I escaped. He had, no doubt, expected this. Any ships my parents kept for the purpose of escape had been sabotaged. The one I took malfunctioned not two days after I left the planet.
"I drifted for a while, the cloaking device remaining intact and active. There was nothing I could do to call for help or deactivate my cloaking device. After three days, I felt a heavy jolt as my ship was hit by another. My ship began to destabilize, but the ship that had run into me managed to get me out before it was completely lost."
She fell silent for a moment. Then, with a deep breath, she continued.
"The captain's name was Oren," she said. "He took me to Coruscant and I met with the Senate, calling their attention to my problem. When an assassin attempted to take my life, the Jedi got themselves involved. One master noticed my Force sensitivity and requested permission to train me. His request was rejected, but he began to train me anyway.
"I learned quickly. In the end, the Jedi who had been training me was cast out of the Jedi Order. He had disobeyed orders, but it mattered little to him. When I was fully trained, he went out on a mission alone and was killed. I later learned that he had been fighting Jedi. After this, the Jedi Order seemed to accept me, but I could tell they were keeping me on a leash. They wanted their eyes on me at all times.
"Around this time, I learned that Oren was on Coruscant at the moment. I went to him and requested quarters on board his ship. I wanted to convince the Jedi in some way that they didn't need to watch me. In the end, they cast me out as well.
"It has been three years," she finished. "I still travel with Oren. We crashed here and I came into town, hoping to find a junk yard. Then, the sandstorm hit and I ducked in here."
"My final goal," she said slowly, "I think would be to regain my throne. Adar has taken it and co-rules with his close friend, Lachlan. I can't leave my people under their leadership. My homeworld will become a sad place if I do."
She fell into a deep silence, her eyes having lost focus. She was lost deeply in thought.
*Raphael held his silence, knowing that talking of one's past was difficult, and brought back things best left forgotten. He thinks back to his own past, to what it was like with his mother and father... what if was like before Deah had chosen him, his family, his country. A few minutes pass, and Raphael turns his attention back to the matters at hand.*
Raphael: I see. You and I, we are not quite so different, hmm? Ousted by enemies, betrayed by friends...
*Suddenly the door opened and a tall human man walks in quickly and glances with a piercing gaze around the cantina. He is dressed in a black hooded robe, dark leather gauntlets, and black boots. He seems to be searching for something....or someone. After he looks around, he walks directly to the owner of the cantina and mumbles a question. The owner responds quietly, almost as if he is unsure of the answer he just gave the stranger. Then man then nods and strides over to a booth on the wall opposite from the cantina entrance. The stranger then sits down and calls for the waitress to bring him a drink.*
*Raphael looked at the stranger, watching his movements. It was no one he knew... at least, not anyone that he thought he knew.*
"Similar circumstances are sometimes found in some unusual places," Nadira said, nodding as she looked around the cantina. Her eyes followed the newcomer as he sat down. When he was seated, she looked again to Raphael. An idea was forming in her mind.
"This sandstorm may not let up for a bit," she said, "but when it does, I have an idea. If you're interested, that is."
"Oren's ship is very large and has an equally large crew," she continued. "In fact, I'm amazed it wasn't destroyed completely when we crashed. As it is, we are short several crew members. The crash was enough to ensure that. Would you like to travel with us? With the crew shortage, I'm sure Oren could find a place for you."
Rapahel: ... If he will agree to linking his ship to mine, then I think I can. I have some cargo I need to drop off. Nothing valuable, just food and medical supplies.
*Raphael leans closer to Nadira.*
Raphael: *Whispering* It is the ship that is valuable. I shall tell you later...
Nadira did an excellent job of appearing to ignore what Raphael had just whispered, but her mind was full of curiousity. Instead of asking or showing her curiosity, she nodded.
"That shouldn't be a problem," she said.
*The stranger looked over at Raphael's company, seeming to take an interest in why she was there. The stranger then thought to himself, had he seen her before or perhaps she merely reminded him of someone. He sat thinking to himself, so many people he had met and yet never really gotten to know any, he spent too much time traveling on missions and never stopped to think how what he did affected others.*
*Raphael looked around again, feeling as though he were being watched. But there was no one in there familiar. Of course, a few people threw sidelong glances at him, but that was to be expected. Raphael had learned to expect such things, clothed in his strange attire. But sometimes it was best not to reveal himself, both physially and mentally. Then why had he done so with Nadira? It was an irrational trust; he never told his employer about his past. Things were getting strange, fast.*
*As Raphael's companion leaned forward to hear what he had whispered to her, the man sitting by the wall noticed the lightsaber she carried. He then frowned, for he now remembered the woman. Her name was Nadira. The name made him shiver. The one mission he had failed. The man quickly pulled up his hood as Nadira looked around hoping...no, praying that she had not seen him. He had been sent to Coruscant to kill this woman. He almost had succeeded, but when he went to actually attack he could not finish the job. He did not know why, he was an assassin then and had killed many before. Yet he had sensed something in her that made him not able to kill her. After he returned, his master was going to kill him for failing, but he begged for his life. And now, he thought, that is why I ended up here, a second chance...A second chance to do something that I know in my heart I cannot do.... The man quickly looked away, he knew that Raphael had noticed him staring. "I cannot do this" he muttered to himself. The only problem was, he would surely be killed if he returned to his master in failure again. And if he even went to leave, Nadira might see him and recognize him. The man was unsure what to do.
"Excuse me for a moment," Nadira said suddenly. She stood and went to the table of the man who had been watching her as she spoke with Raphael. She sat down across from him and stared into the darkness that hid his face.
"Adar sent you, didn't he?" she said softly. "You tried to kill me on Coruscant." She smiled. "Don't be afraid. I will not hurt you." Her smile faded. "Adar can't be happy with your failure. He has tried to kill you once, has he not?"
The man looked up as Nadira stood. As she approached, he felt like running out of the door right at that moment into the sandstorm. He was not sure what to do. Then Nadira spoke, and he was not sure whether or not to believe her. He looked towards the door and then back to her and spoke quietly. "I did go to Coruscant to kill you, that is true. And when I arrived, I could not finish the mission and I am not sure why. Perhaps the Force had something greater in store for you and simply prevented me from killing you, I do not know, but something inside me kept me from finishing the job. Adar nearly killed me and I pleaded with him to give me a second chance. Since then I had been imprisioned within his stronghold as punishment and a few days ago he had me released and told me I was to try again. I knew I could not kill you, but I left anyways hoping that I could escape him. Do not ask me why I came here, perhaps it is because Adar will surely send someone else after you and I feel I should try to help you after I nearly killed you before. I am sorry, it was foolish for me to have come here, if he finds me he will be led to you as well."
*Raphael felt the emotions running through the thick air. He focused specifically of that of Nadira's... for some reason he could not shake, she intrigued her. A touch of worry, some fear... something was going to happen. Nadira was meeting an... enemy? No, he did not feel anger, hatred, fury... no, not a friend. An aqcuaitance? Perhaps. Raphael gazed at the wall, hoping to learn some more. Death had chased him halfway across the galaxy... Raphael hoped that he would stop here now, so Raphael could have peace. And possibly a friend...*
"Those who appear helpless are not always as they appear," Nadira said. She smiled. "If the Force has led you not to kill me, perhaps it will not object if you join me. The ship I came to this planet on is damaged, but will be repaired quickly when the sandstorm leaves. It is my goal to hunt Adar and regain what..." her voice trailed off.
"Did Adar tell you why he wanted me killed?" she asked.
*The man sat there as Nadira spoke, he soon realized the reason he could not kill her. He had grown to care about other people, not merely himself, perhaps the Force had meant this to happen. The thought bothered him and he was unsure of what to say, he remembered very little and did not like to dwell on the past for it was too painful and yet Nadira was not like the people he had known. He wondered if he should tell her his name, or even answer her question. He was used to talking with bounty hunters and mercenaries and cold-hearted assassins and those were the type of people you did not tell about yourself if you were smart. He thought back and realized he had never known a good person in his entire life, a thought that saddened him slightly. Then he spoke quietly and carefully: "I do not know much, I was Adar's most trusted assassin and was only assigned to certain cases. He only kept me around because I was good at dealing with what he called "stubborn enemies," probably do to my training in the martial arts and Jedi arts. He showed me a holograph photo of you and told me your name and that was all. I did ask, but he merely stated that you were connected to a part of his past that had to be removed." The man looked towards Raphael and then said "That man has done nothing but stare at me since I walked into the door...I have a bad feeling about this-is he with you?"
*Curiosity. He felt it. It came to him, touched him, a breeze upon winds of... fear? No, apprehension. Raphael rose and walked over to Nadira.*
Raphael: A friend of yours, Nadira?
*The stranger felt uneasy now. What would Nadira tell him? She has a lightsaber with her, did she become a Jedi and if so, this man before him might be a Jedi as well. Also, this man, what if he suspects something? If he discovers the truth, it could mean trouble. The stranger had to speak before Nadira, he had to lie. He knew that if he lied, the man might sense it in part, especially if he was a Jedi also. There was no choice, however. As he reached his hand out to greet the man, he spoke...
"I am Jerod Stryke, an old....acquantance of Nadira's, we met on Coruscant long ago and she recognized me. I was actually quite surprised as I barely recognized her at first."
Nadira nodded, instantly agreeing with what Jerod said. "I recognized him because I have a very good memory... besides, I find it hard to forget a man who saved me from death."
Her eyes met with Jerod's and she hoped he could tell that she would not give away what he had really tried to do.
*Jerod sat there in amazement. He was not sure why Nadira had done this, but he nodded and went along with it. He did not completely lie, he just did not mention the entire truth. "Yes, I was there on Coruscant and she was being attacked and I stopped the assailant from killing her."
He smiled dryly and looked at Raphael and then spoke quickly, hoping to change the subject. "So, what brings you to this dustbowl? You look like a traveler, not from around here. Are you a Jedi as well?"
Probably a question that was better off left unasked, however, Jerod wanted to keep the focus away from him.
*Raphael was humored by this question. Not many had the courage to ask such a thing.*
Raphael: I was a Jedi... once. But I left. I could not believe in that which was false to me. But it is a pleasure to meet a friend of Nadira's.
*There was something in the air now. A false sense of security? Lies? No doubt between Nadira and Stryke. But why? Was it because he was blackmailing her? No, that couldn't be it... Nadira wasn't agitated, worried. Something happened in their past. Raphael did not care much though. Nadira could take care of herself without need of input from him.*
Raphael: I am known by many names... but please, call me Quietstorm.
*Stryke looked at Quietstorm and chuckled to himself. The man knew they were lying, but he was also smart enough not to act like he knew. This Quietstorm obviously was well-traveled, perhaps a hired-gun like Jerod himself. That made Jerod think for a moment-why had he revealed his true name? It was a mistake upon his part, after all, these people were not exactly his friends-he had no friends-at least not for a long time. The thought made him uneasy, as did the silence that accompanied it. He wondered what would happen now.
In through the door walks a short person, probably human, but hard to tell with the large swathing robes he/she is wearing, you can see only eyes, which glisten an emerald green. Taking a quick glance around the person moves to the quietest area possible and motions for a twi'lek serving girl to bring them a drink.
*Raphael stood silently, contemplating this man. There was something... cold and hard about him, like a durasteel hull. But not exactly, as durasteel hulling didn't have emotions, or loss thereof. This man was a hired killer. But he han't killed either of them yet, and Nadira seemed to trust him.*
Raphael: Shall we get something to drink?
*Stryke looked at the newcomer taking note of its location. This individual seemed less threatening than some of the others in the cantina, which gave him more reason to watch him/her. Then he looked at Raphael and smiled. He could sense that Raphael was uneasy about him. He then whispered to Raphael, "You are right to not trust a stranger such as myself, but fear not, I am not here to cause trouble this time. I am afraid I cannot tell you any more than that." Stryke hoped a gesture such as this could prevent trouble from starting here. Then, he continued aloud, "Let us get something to drink." Jerod then motioned for the waitress.
Nadira leaned back, trying to understand what she had just done. She had gone up to the man who tried to kill her and... befriended him? It was impulsive, the kind of thing that got many people killed. And what of Raphael? What made Nadira think she could trust him? It was a question she could not answer.
All the while, her face remained emotionless. The two men she was with could not tell what she was thinking of.
When the waitress came, Nadira said nothing, choosing to forego any drinking.