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Author Topic: Tales of the Orell Legacy  (Read 6021 times)

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Online Orell

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Tales of the Orell Legacy
« on: 03/03/15, 08:03:00 PM »
((Note: This is a recreation of my Reflections of the Orell Legacy thread, but that became unwieldy and out of order, with my attempts to archive my various stories in a more central location.

Many of the posts below have been reposted in a few different locations, but here are all reposted in the order of their original creation to help tie story threads together.

At points, there will be notes at the start to explain some context to the writings that, a year or two later, would be difficult to appreciate.

But, in any case, enjoy!))
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #1 on: 03/03/15, 08:03:54 PM »
Originally posted 06/23/2012: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=102.0

A Lesson on Ignorance

The cantina was bustling, oddly enough. Nearly twenty Jedi and a few travelers packed the far too small room, crowding the Padawan and her Master to a side table, doing their best to dine without taking a stray elbow.

"Master, why are we here? There must be less chaotic places to eat."

"Young one, we are here for many reasons. One of which will become apparent."

Padawan Shaantil ducked down quickly, as a stray hand flies over her head. "It was this big! Oh, sorry..." exclaimed the Jedi responsible, barely audible. "So," the Padawan said, "you wish to test my reflexes."

Master Soldin's expression hardly changed. "Fortuitous timing aside, that is not the primary reason you are here. Please, recite the second line of the Jedi code."

Shaantil sighed, ducking quickly again. "Master, you hate the-" Shaantil stopped, as Soldin cleared her throat. "...you dislike the narrowness of the Jedi Code."

"I do indeed, Padawan. Now, recite the second line." Again, no change in expression, nothing at all Shaantil could use to gauge her Master's expression, not that Shaantil really bothered to try anymore.

Shaantil nodded. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

"Indeed. What is the other second line?"

Shaantil lowered her voice instinctively. "Ignorance, yet knowledge."

Master Soldin's eyebrow raised slightly. "You need not whisper, Padawan. The old code is not forbidden to speak."

"Yes Master."

"Interpret the difference."

...she may as well tell me to interpret the difference between black and white... Shaantil thought. "The old code speaks to all existence, of course, and the new code speaks to the ideal Jedi. There is a great deal of ignorance and fear within the galaxy, and it is the role of the Jedi to replace as much of it with knowledge as we can."

Master Soldin stared at Shaantil for a few moments. "In your own words next time, Padawan. You were only a few choice words away from my last lesson to you."

Shaantil winced, then cursed herself for the reaction. "Yes Master."

"Now then. In truth, this part of the code I dislike the narrowness of the most," said Master Soldin, putting the exact same inflection on the words as Shaantil had, causing the Padawan to wince again. "You see, Padawan, ignorance is not only omnipresent, but necessary."

Shaantil frowned. "How can ignorance be needed? Ignorance is what leads to terrible crimes and mistakes."

Master Soldin nodded. "It does indeed. But, that is why we are here. Take your glass."

Shaantil picked up the glass and nodded.

Master Soldin, finally, let a very slight smirk out. "...be less literal next time, Padawan."

"Yes Master." Shaantil put the glass down, keeping her face as serious as she could manage.

The smirk grew a tiny, infinitesimal amount. "What do you know about it?"

Shaantil frowned, and looked at the glass. "It is a glass. Cylindrical shape, made of... glass, with a volume of approximately half a liter."

"Where did it come from?"

"...the bar, Master?"

Master Soldin's smirk did not move the slightest. "Where before that?"

"...we do not create these on Tython I believe. A merchant vessel?"

"And before that?"

"...I do no-" Shaantil began.

"How was the glass that makes up the glass created?"

"...melting sand, I beli-"

"Where did that sand come from?"

"Likely wherever the glass was ma-"

"Planets are big, Padawan."

"...then I do not know."

Master Soldin finally smiled. "And we have ignorance. You are ignorant of the glass' origin. How it got here, how it was made, and who made it."

Shaantil sighed. "...Master, with respect, it is only a glass."

Master Soldin raised an eyebrow. "Did slaves make the glass?"

Shaantil started, then ducked another emphatic gesture. "...I suppose I do not know, Master. I do not believe so, as the Jedi Order would not trade with that sort of people."

"But you do not know."

"No, Master."

"For all you know, Padawan, a slave's pain and suffering went into that glass' construction."

"It is unli-" Shaantil began before getting cut off again.

"But you cannot be certain."

"...no, Master. Would you like me to find out?"

Master Soldin shook her head, taking a sip from her own glass. "We drink from glasses like this every day. We make a great deal of our own supplies here, of course, but when we leave Tython, we encounter millions of objects every moment that we have no knowledge of. It would take a week, at least, to learn every detail of one single object."

"...perhaps, but-"

Master Soldin raised her hand to stop Shaantil. "Padawan, you are aware of the horrors that persist in the galaxy."

Padawan Shaantil hesitated. "...do you mean with the Sith, Master?"

"I mean with it all. Hutt, Imperial, Republic and non-aligned space. How many thefts, how many murders, how many things that are so much worse? It would take an army of statisticians to track even a small fragment of all those things."

Shaantil nodded. "...and we are ignorant of all of that as well."

"We are. We must be. We cannot help them all. While we are sitting in this exuberant cantina, millions of people across the galaxy are having the worst days of their lives. 'Ignorance, yet knowledge', Padawan. We are ignorant of it all, but we must at least know what we are ignorant of."

Shaantil nodded again, seeming to stare at the glass. Master Soldin watched her Padawan with carefully concealed concern, and let out a slight sigh. "...of course, it is not all so depressing."

The Padawan looked up at Master Soldin. "It is not?"

Master Soldin smiled gently, warmly at her student. "What was so big, Padawan?" Shaantil stared at her Master for a few moments, until Soldin chuckled. "Our friend here seemed quite excited about it. You are not curious?"

Shaantil hesitated, and then looked up at the large man, laughing as he spoke to a small group of Jedi. "Sir? What was so large?

The man grinned down at Shaantil. "Why, it was this massive beast, native to the snowy slopes of Hoth! Twice my size, and much uglier! You see, I was out looking for this wreck an old friend told me about..."

Master Soldin smiled gently as she ate. Shaantil giggled at the story, of course, as the explorer no doubt was embellishing and exaggerating and no doubt lying as well, which only made Master Soldin happier. She hoped that Shaantil was seeing through the lies, as she saw through so many other things, and seeing that not all lies were bad.

Shaantil needed that lesson. And her young student's joyous laugh cut through all sorts of guilt that the old Master was feeling, only her own joy remaining.
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #2 on: 03/03/15, 08:04:15 PM »
Originally posted 07/04/2012: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=123.0

Betrayal

"Qu-Quar, wait up!" the young man exclaimed, gasping for breath, stumbling over the rocky hillside.

Quarasha stopped and smirked back at him. "Oh dear, is the almighty Sith asking for the poor slave to slow down? Come now, Timoc, surely you can do better than that!"

Timoc groaned, and tried to pick up the pace. It was still early in the day on Korriban, and the sun had yet to beat down upon the barren world. Still, it was much too early for hiking a few miles over rocky hills. Only the Force knew how his lover managed to keep her strength up like that. He grinned. Probably all that dancing.

Quarasha jogged on and positively ran up another hill, her long skirt seemingly doing nothing to hinder her movement, or hide her- Focus, Timoc! Almost there! He knew his Twi'lek loved hiking, probably that endless freedom or some such nonsense.

He caught her smirking down at him, and groaned again. Or maybe she just like showing up the Sith...

It took him a while, but he finally got up that last hill, and promptly collapses on the ground, staring up at her smirk. "...didn't anyone tell you that if you keep making faces, it will stick?"

Quarasha chuckle and leaned down, kissing the boy. "No, they forgot to mention that in between the beatings. Do you enjoy the sights?"

Timoc smiled up at her, and then pushed himself up, resting on his hand, staring out at the early morning sun rising over Korriban, dimly aware of his love moving behind him. "Nearly as gorgeous as you, I would say. No wonder you had us wake so e-AAAAAAARGH!" he screamed, falling to the ground, clutching the stump of his right arm, his eyes wide with shock.

He sought his lover out, and there she was, standing above him, a Lightsaber in her hand and a cold glare on her face. "Q-Quar, w-wh-NONONO-AAAAAAAH!"

The agony doubled, his foot down sailing down the cliff to join his arm, and his lover lowered her Lightsaber to his throat. He only trembled as she jabbed a stim into his neck, and his thoughts cleared, his breath slowing as the shock wore down.

"No early finish for you today, Timoc. I want you awake for this." She reached into the pocket in her skirt and pulled out a holorecorder.

The image was that of his prospective Lord, the one who said would show him favor if- ...oh no.... "Timoc, I must congratulate you on your progress! I hear that slave is eating out of your hand now, and not a moment too soon. The symposium is only a month away, and when that whelp's carcass is tossed in front of Lord Zedney, it will be all I need to remove that idiot from power! Keep it up, boy, and you'll be my prized apprentice in no time!"

The holo clicked off, followed by silence. "...h-how?"

The lightsaber swung, and another bit of Timoc when hurtling into the abyss, accompanied by another scream. "I knew you were hiding something. So I looked."

Swing, chop, and another scream. "I should have known," she muttered, momentarily looking away from the stricken Sith.

Timoc's sobs started to clear. "...I-I w-would ne-" he began, before getting cut off by another swing.

"Never what? Arrange an attack on me so you could come to my rescue, seduce me, get me 'eating out of your hand' so you could murder me? We both know better than that, Timoc."

"Bu-"

After the scream, Quarasha frowned at what was left. She would need to slow down, only half of that leg to go. "You almost had me, too. The recording was well hidden."

Timoc shook his head. "...w-was going to, b-"

Quarasha's eyes followed the slice down into the ravine, as Timoc writhed in agony. The fool, she thought, not even trying to defend himself.

"...l-love you, Quar, w-was going to b-betray him..."

Quarasha froze, thankful that he could not see her reaction. Could he- no. "A likely story." She swung again, and Timoc's scream had... something else there, something more.

"Please, Quar, I be- AAAAAAH!" he screamed, breaking down into sobs as she finished with the leg.

Quarasha leaned down and added another adrenal to the mix, only glancing at the tears flowing down Timoc's face. "Such a pitiful Sith. Begging for mercy from a slave?"

"P-p-promise, I-I will hel-" his screams followed his other foot down the cliff.

"First-" she begins, punctuating it with another slice. "I cannot trust a thing you say. It would be far too easy for you to mislead. Second-" another slice, the scream echoing off the canyon walls. "I do not need your help. Your Lord will die tonight as his shuttle departs Korriban."

"And third." His leg goes this time, his scream fading into mewling whimpers. "No one uses me and lives. Never again."

Quarasha stared down at what remained of Timoc, his whimpers and sobs slowly shifting into an unsteady chuckle. "...w-well done," he croaked, a soft, weak smile on his face. "S-s-saw right... through it."

His remaining hand reached out to her, as though to cup her cheek, only to be stopped by her Lightsaber, met only by a strained groan as it sailed into the pit. "...y-you... will make an... excellent Sith..."

Quarasha hesitated for only a moment, then cut open his throat. Timoc's eyes were still on her until she kicked him onto his face, letting him choke on the rubble, so she could depart in peace, staring on the miles long trail back to the academy, completely ignorant that his eyes were still on her, his arm still reaching out to her, and that strange smile still on his face.
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

Online Orell

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #3 on: 03/03/15, 08:06:27 PM »
Originally posted 09/25/2012: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=400.0

Bluebird and Captain Dumbass

((Note: This story, and the combined pair following, were originally part of a lead-in towards an event that, due to circumstances of the times, never got off the ground. Ignore the event foreshadowing, enjoy Shaantil, Soldin, T7 and Captain Simon Dumas, as Shaantil searches for information about her late father...))



"T7 = Awesome!"

T7 whirled into Shaantil's quarters, who was until very recently deep in meditation, sitting passively on the floor.

"Who = The man?"

Shaantil sighed. "T7, you are not human, you are a droid."

T7 paused, and then beeped again in response. "Who = The Droid?"

"I do not presume to know." Inwardly, Shaantil futily hoped that T7's grasp of sarcasm had improved somewhat.

"T7 = The Droid!"

Nope. "What is it, T7?"

"T7 = recovered interview between Soldin + Simon!"

Shaantil hesitated, fighting the sudden nervousness. "...you had said that the recording was destroyed in a bombing several years ago."

T7 spun and beeped cheerfully. "T7 = find transcript backup! // Transcript = hidden in off-world backup // Security = "

"T7, I do not need the full history. Please, send me the transcript."

"T7 = sending! // Jedi = know who The Droid = ?"

Shaantil called her datapad to her hand, and sighed inwardly. The droid did deserve some praise for this. "You are the Droid."

T7 sped off, beeping happily. "T7 = The Droid!"

Shaantil flicked on the datapad with another sign, and began to read.

----

<DIS13 CASE5320.05.21.3 INT-1 TRANS>

<FILE CLASSIFIED: RED-3 SECURITY CLEARANCE ON AUTH OF JK SOLDIN>

<ARRESTING OFFICER: CPL. L. VARNA ASST. JK SOLDIN>

<SUSPECT ACCUSED OF 421: AIDING AND ABETTING FUGITIVE>

<UNDER REG. 211.52 JK SOLDIN IS INTERVIEWING>

JKS: Would you please state your name for the record?

SUS: Come on, Bluebird, you know who I am. <SUSPECT HAS JOVIAL TONE>

JKS: I might, but the record does not.

SUS: <CHUCKLING> Alright, fine. The name, Mister Record, is Captain Simon Dumas.

JKS: Thank you. You are aware you are entitled to representation?

SUS: What, you don't think I can represent myself?

JKS: <SIGH> You are aware that you are entitled to representation, and you have declined?

SUS: <CHUCKLING> By the book, huh, Bluebird? Yeah, I got my own back here.

JKS: Thank you. Your place of birth?

SUS: For Mister Record again, or for you?

JKS: For the Record, yes.

SUS: Tiny little village, couple clicks outta the spaceport on Alpheridies, called Djorman. Really gorgeous in the springtime, we could make a nice little getaway, you-

JKS: Please stay on subject, Mis-

SUS: CAPTAIN Dumas, thank you.

JKS: Very well, Captain. Are you aware that Alpheridies has no record of a Simon Dumas being born there, ever?

SUS: <CHUCKLING> Done your homework, bluebird!

JKS: I'll assume for the moment that Simon Dumas is an assumed name. Now th-

SUS: <LAUGHING> Really? You think I'd go by Captain Dumb-ass if I had a say in the matter?

JKS: I have see-

SUS: There's that smile!

<PAUSE>

JKS: You saw no such thing.

SUS: Yeah, yeah, I know what I saw, Bluebird. Come on, ask me about the damsel.

JKS: <CLEARED THROAT> You were caught attempting to smuggle a Teri Rycal off planet.

SUS: Hey, she gave me a sob story about an abusive boyfriend, I fell for it, what's the crime?

JKS: You mean, besides hiding her in a secret compartment during customs inspection?

SUS: She tripped and fell in, and I didn't want to inconvenience everyone!

<PAUSE>

JKS: You're telling me that she tripped and fell into the compartment, just as Customs performed their inspection, and did not pull her out until after the inspection?

SUS: Hey, we've all seen str-

JKS: I can assure you, Captain Dumas <UNUSUAL STRESS ON "S" SOUND>, I have not.

SUS: Look, you came on, found her and dragged her out, no harm no foul, right?

JKS: You still broke the law. Furthermore, you should have detect-

SUS: Oh, don't pull that Miraluka card on me. I meet a lot of not-nice people, doesn't mean I can't trust them.

JKS: There is still no excuse for the negligence.

SUS: Hey, like I said, no harm, no foul.

JKS: She pulled a weapon on me. If it didn't malfunction-

SUS: I gave her that blaster, nice to have a dummy pistol around.

<PAUSE>

JKS: So, you didn't trust her.

SUS: Not enough to let her be armed on my ship. Trusted her enough to take her Creds. Speaking of w-

JKS: No, your payment has been confiscated as evidence.

SUS: <CHUCKLE> Worth a shot.

JKS: Now, I have been convinced to consider recommending leniency, if you help us with the investigation.

SUS: Oh, I see how it is. You want to put the screws to me and see if I'll flip on the damsel, tell you all she said when she didn't think I was listening? Well, Bluebird, I don't play that game, assuming I even heard anything.

JKS: Captain, she stands accused of a triple homicide. She is hardly worth the effort of protecting.

SUS: Hey, you got your code, I got mine. Bet you really would like to hear the recording of the comm she made to her buddy off-planet.

<PAUSE>

JKS: You have a recording-

SUS: Yep. Stored on my ship's drive, voice-locked.

JKS: You wouldn't tell me if-

SUS: Oh, right, demands. Lets see, complete immunity, reimbursement of the payment I was given by her, dinner, my ship released from impound and my involvement in this kept under wraps.

<TAPPING ON A DATAPAD>

<PAUSE>

JKS: Could you repeat the third part?

SUS: <CHUCKLING> Dinner.

JKS: Generally the warden only does that on special occasions, such as executions.

SUS: Hmm, you're right. Probably should have it with someone else. <LOUD TAPPING ON TABLE> Say! You're around, how about it?

JKS: What?

SUS: Come on, candlelit dinner, you and me, dinin' on the copper's cred? Best night of embezzlement you'd ever have.

JKS: I- Captain, this is getting rather inappropriate.

SUS: Mmm, no, inappropriate would be-

<AUDIO MISSING, ANALYSIS SUGGESTS MICROPHONE IS BEING COVERED>

SUS: -ext morning, we could do it all again.

<PAUSE>

SUS: <CHUCKLING> Bluebird? Or is it Redbird now?

JKS: <SHORT COUGH> I think <PAUSE> I think you should <PAUSE> focus on other matters.

SUS: <LAUGHTER> Spoil all my fun, why don't you!

JKS: Captain, that-

SUS: Alright, alright, went a bit far there. What can I say, you inspired me.

JKS: <SCRAPING SOUND: ANALYSIS SUGGESTS CHAIR BEING PUSHED BACK> I will take your <PAUSE> other requests to the local authorities.

SUS: Don't be a stranger, Bluebird!

<END TRANSCRIPT>
« Last Edit: 03/03/15, 08:21:53 PM by Orell »
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #4 on: 03/03/15, 08:06:42 PM »
Originally posted 11/03/2012 and 12/28/2012: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=477.0

The Hunt for Captain Dumas

"Dear Knight Shaantil,

I'm sorry, but the records you've requested seem to have degraded. The Imperial attack some years ago did a lot of damage to our storage, and I'm afraid that I can't locate any existing backups. Please let me know if there's anything else I can do to assist in your investigation."

----

"Knight Shaantil,

Sorry for the delay in responding. No luck on finding anything in the archives relating to Simon Dumas. A few reports here and there involving Jedi Master Soldin from that time frame, attached to this message, but mainly routine record keeping. Wish I could have helped more."

----

"Heya,

I gave the DB another sweep. Looks like there was something there related to C21135-984, but its not there anymore.

Of course, our system's security is top-notch, so the deletion could only have been an officially sanctioned one, because no DB jockey here would ever take a bribe to kill some data.

No, really. They pay us way too well for that kinda shit.

Anywho, I'll need a court order to attempt to recover the data. Sorry, but you know how legal shit can be."

----

"Attention Knight Shaantil,

This is the department manager for listening post 1138. While I understand the good intentions behind your offer, I cannot allow an outside droid access to our secure systems, for any reason. System security must remain a top priority here, and the specifics of our internal systems must remain a secret.

Please refrain from making this request again without a court order."

----

Shaantil lowered her datapad with a sigh. Nothing. No recordings, no video, no reports, and only a single transcript of an interview and a long list of criminal offenses.

Moving down the stairs to the engine compartment, her mind flew over the next steps. Hutt space? He would have spent much time there, and irregular record keeping might make hiding tracks less likely-

They do not respect the authority of the Jedi. Any access would have to be either trading of favors or illegitimate. Which is worse?


"Jedi = okay?" T7 asked, giving her a light poke with its access prong.

Shaantil nodded, dimly aware that her feet had taken her into the engine room, without any input from her. "Yes, T7. I need you to contact Republic-friendly ports on Outer Rim systems. Find wh-"

"T7 = find out about Simon Dumas // Jedi = relax"

Shaantil sighed, but a smile broke through her face. "Thank you, T7. Your assistance, as always, is invaluable."

"T7 = knows // Jedi = lost without T7!"

"I would not go that far."

"Jedi = fly ship into star!"

She only briefly managed to fight the smirk. "Oh, very well, I will admit that I do need your help."

"Jedi = smart // T7 = deserve raise" T7 beeped, plugging into the ship's computers.

Shaantil hesitated. Either T7 truly wishes financial compensation, or it has learned how to joke with a lie. "...we will see, T7. In the meantime-"

"Jedi = go meditate // T7 = have results soon // Jedi = want T7 ask OR slice?"

She turned to leave, but hesitated at the droid's question. "...only slice if you believe they are willfully concealing the information."

"T7 = understand..."

Shaantil sighed and left the engine room. There had to be something out there, somewhere...

-------------

T7 slowly approached Shaantil's quarters. Simon News = good or bad? // Jedi = like knowing about Simon // Jedi = might be angry T7 = not find sooner? // Jedi = wants to know // T7 = want Jedi = happy // Jedi = may be angry AND happy? // Jedi = -"

Shaantil looked up at T7, rising from her meditation. "Yes, T7?"

T7 backed up a tiny amount, somehow not realizing he was already inside her room. "Ship = 1 hour out from destination // Jedi = want notice of arrival?"

"Yes, T7, thank you. I will be meditating until then. Is there anything else?"

T7 hesitated, drawing a frown from Shaantil. "What is it?"

"T7 = found memory of Simon Dumas // T7 = sorry // Memory audio = degraded // T7 = sorry // Jedi = want to see logs? // T7 = so-"

Shaantil held up a hand. "...you had an encounter with Simon?"

T7 nodded his pseudo-head. "T7 = bought by Simon for Soldin // T7 = has lots of degraded memory from then // reason = unknown // T7 = sorry"

"It is alright, T7, thank you. Please, give me whatever you have discovered."

"T7 = transmitting to datapad // T7 = sorry // T7 = going..."

Shaantil called her datapad to her hand as T7 fled, her mind racing behind her passive face, wondering what the info would be, and froze as she checked the timestamp.

It was from a month before his death.

----

"-ot of corrosion here, lil' guy. Has Soldin been takin' good care of you?"

T7 turned his head to look at Simon. "Jedi = nice to T7! // Jedi + T7 = been to hazardous planet // T7 = fell into acid water"

Simon grabbed T7's head, turning the giant eye toward him. "...say that again? What has Soldin been up to?"

T7 backed up slightly as Simon let go. "Jedi + T7 = chase criminal to hiding place // Jedi = find + arrest criminal // T7 = just clumsy." Technically a lie, T7 considered, but Soldin had explicitly told him not to tell Simon about the array of bombs. Orders > honesty...

Simon sighed, shaking his head. "...woman's half crazy, I swear. She's in no condition for risking her life."

T7 considered Soldin's health for a moment. "T7 = not understand // Jedi = in good shape - minor nausea // best diagnosis = intestinal parasite?"

Oddly, Simon didn't look worried, like T7 expected. Instead, he seemed to not react at all to the news. "...sure, let's go with that. When'd you become a doctor?"

"T7 = downloaded diagnostic suite from holonet! // T7 = master diagnoser now!"

Simon gave T7 an odd look, but nodded. "Right you are."

Simon went back to his work, soldering in a few new wires, replacing a few fluids and doing general maintenance. T7 watched him carefully, but only because T7 was generally paranoid about his body. T7 liked Simon, especially since he rescued T7 from Shirlka Droidworks, and gave him a new ship to work on!

"Hey, T7, still paying attention?" Simon asked.

"T7 = always paying attention! // T7 = pay special attention to Simon when Simon hands = in T7!"

Simon chuckled. "Right. You're a good... droid. You like Soldin, right? Want to keep her safe?"

"T7 = like Jedi! // T7 = already keep Jedi safe!"

"...good. Just want you to keep a special eye out for her. In case... well, just in case. I got your word on that?"

T7 nodded quickly. "T7 = always protect Jedi! // T7 = give Simon word!"

Simon closed T7's chassis, his face still solid. "...good. Thanks, little guy."

----

Shaantil rushed into the engine room, looking down at the sulking T7. "T7, are there any more memories like this?!"

"T7 = sorry // T7 = not find any // T7 = sorry // T7 = keep looking? // T7 = so-"

"Stop apologizing!" she shouted.

T7 looked away, somehow finding a way to look even more sullen.

Shaantil took a deep breath, and knelt down in front of T7, placing her hand on T7's head. "...I... I am sorry, T7. This is phenomenal news. You... you knew Simon, but did not recall that until now, is that correct?"

"Degraded memories = say T7 = knew Simon // Jedi = angry with T7?"

She smiled at the little droid. "Of course not, T7. I am quite happy with your success. Please, continue looking for such memories. Perhaps you could recover more."

"T7 = will try!"

"And... intestinal parasite?"

T7 chirped happily. "T7 = not have diagnostic suite now // T7 = may have misused it then // Shaantil = best intestinal parasite ever!"

Shaantil stood, smiling slightly. "I will remember you said that, T7. Especially the next time I see a very, very large magnet."

"Jedi = mean!" T7 said as Shaantil exited the engine room, letting out a soft laugh.
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #5 on: 03/03/15, 08:07:04 PM »
Originally posted 12/24/2012: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=598.0

Minds of Metal and Hearts of Gold

If you were to step into the mind of a machine, you would recognize nothing at all. Even the most well crafted droids are so remarkably different from organic minds that comparing the two would be like comparing a planet to a space station. Whatever similarities there are, the differences rob the discussion of any real point, besides philosophical meanderings.

And yet, they clearly think. They may be nothing but machines, incapable of true emotions, creativity, or the minutia of life, but they are do still think, able to reason and calculate without much issue. I only wish I could see the truth that is inside their minds...

-from "Minds of Metal" by Jedi Master Baissy Lornell


--------

Day 832 of ownership by Shrilka Droidworks

At 1400 hours, T7-L5 powered up.

At 1404 hours, it checked it's duty queue. No new tasks.

Standing instruction: Perform systems diagnostics, contact sales desk if any problems are detected, shutdown once complete.

T7 ran through the diagnostics, looking around at it's bin. Only observable changes: minute increase in dust particles on ground.

At 1431 hours, T7 completed diagnostics. Minor irregularity in processor, moderate variance in primary motivator, significant damage to long range scanner. No observable change from last 702 reports.

At 1432 hours, T7 filed its report and shut down.

----

Day 1129 of ownership by Shrilka Droidworks

At 1400 hours, T7-L5 powered up.

At 1404 hours, it checked it's duty queue. No new tasks.

Standing instruction: Perform systems diagnostics, contact sales desk if any problems are detected, shutdown once complete.

T7 ran through the diagnostics, looking around at it's bin. Only observable changes: minute increase in dust particles on ground.

At 1431 hours, T7 completed diagnostics. Minor irregularity in processor, moderate variance in primary motivator, significant damage to long range scanner. No observable change from last 999 reports.

T7 considered. Just under a thousand reports, no response. Reports either not considered important or will not be used unless an event occurs. It would be faster to just report no change and recommend reading last full report.

Instructions are to file full report each day.

At 1432 hours, T7 filed its full report and shut down.

----

Day 1181 of ownership by Shrilka Droidworks

At 1400 hours, T7-L5 powered up.

At 1404 hours, it checked it's duty queue. No new tasks.

Standing instruction: Perform systems diagnostics, contact sales desk if any problems are detected, shutdown once complete.

T7 ran through the diagnostics, looking around at it's bin. Only observable changes: minute increase in dust particles on ground.

At 1431 hours, T7 completed diagnostics. Minor irregularity in processor, moderate variance in primary motivator, significant damage to long range scanner. No observable change from last 1061 reports.

T7 considered. Over a thousand reports, no response. Reports either not considered important or will not be used unless an event occurs. It would be faster to just report no change and recommend reading last full report.

Instructions are to file full report each day.

At 1432 hours, T7 filed an abbreviated report and, before shutting down, considered if this change would be noticed.

----

Day 1322 of ownership by Shrilka Droidworks

At 1400 hours, T7-L5 powered up.

At 1404 hours, it checked it's duty queue. No new tasks.

Standing instruction: Perform systems diagnostics, contact sales desk if any problems are detected, shutdown once complete.

T7 looked around its bin. No disturbance of dust, no visitors.

T7 considered. Perhaps issue is that T7 is not valuable enough to sell?

T7 considered. Other droids could take an hour to complete diagnostics. T7 could use that time to develop better astrometric protocols. Become more valuable for sale, include information in diagnostic reports.

At 1500, T7 sent an abbreviated report, complete with a report on its progress with the protocols, and shut down.

----
Day 1409 of ownership by Shrilka Droidworks

At 1400 hours, T7-L5 powered up.

At 1404 hours, it checked it's duty queue. No new tasks.

Standing instruction: Perform systems diagnostics, contact sales desk if any problems are detected, shutdown once complete.

T7 looked around its bin. No disturbance of dust, no visitors.

T7 began diagnostics, and resumed its count.

66539 = 11 * 23 * 263

66540 = 2^2 * 3 * 5 * 1109

66541 = 66541, prime.

T7 continued counting after its dignostics completed. T7 had considered the matter, and determined that no one was concerned with its activity, so spending an hour and a half active would go unnoticed.

At 1531, T7 sent its report and shutdown.

-----

Day 1633 of ownership by Shrilka Droidworks

At 1035 hours, T7-L5 was powered up, off schedule.

It immediately checked it's duty queue. No new tasks, but it's main camera saw three people: Shrilka, the Rodian owner, and a male and female human wearing blast goggles. And were talking. About T7!

Man: "-ure of it, bluebird, T7 units are solid!"

Woman: "Solid? Mr. Shrilka, how do these units fare against ion grenades?"

Shrilka: "Ion grenades? Why would-"

Man: "Look, that poor droid was getting torn apart! I was trying to save him!"

Woman: "Yes, excellent work."

Shrilka: "This one is in excellent condition, aside from a few minor cosmetic problems. Shame to let it go for so cheap."

Woman: "Is that so? Is the droid powered?"

Shrilka: "Yes! Feel free to ask it anything, these droids are all programmed for honesty!"

Man: "That so? Alright little guy, you have any problems that we'll need to fix?"

Standard protocol: Do not reveal any major mechanical or programming errors to potential customers.

T7, for the first time in 1633 days, spoke. "T7 = in excellent condition! // T7 = has minor programming flaw // Flaw = easily correctable!"

Shrilka: "See? Excellent droid!"

Man: "What kind of programming flaw?"

"T7 = programmed to lie about mechanical status"

Shrilka seemed angry, but T7 was following protocol! "Droid, how dare you-"

The woman waved her hand. "The droid's honesty was acceptable."

Shrilka suddenly stopped. "...yes, the droid's honesty was acceptable."

T7 considered. Handwaves followed by instant agreement may mean mind trick? Woman could be a Jedi.

Man: "...you didn't need to do that."

Woman: "He cheated first." She waved her hand again. "Please ask it about any errors it has."

Shrilka: "Droid, what errors do you have?"

T7: "T7 errors = Minor irregularity in processor + moderate variance in primary motivator + significant damage to long range scanner // Errors = fixable"

The woman smiled slightly at the man. "You were saying?"

Man: "You're cute when you're being smug. Shrilka, I'll take it off your hands for a thousand."

Shrilka: "That droid is worth-"

The woman waved her hand again. "A thousand is fair."

Shrilka: "-is worth a thousand."

Man: "...now you're just showing off."

Woman: "I would never do such a thing."

T7 watched the two bicker, quickly realizing that they meant to buy it. Free T7 of the restraining bolt, get it out of the bin, allow it to be useful again! T7 quickly ran another diagnostic on its motors, as well as its audio receptors.

By the time Shrilka was paid, and the restraining bolt was removed, T7's third scan of its systems were complete. It was free of the bin!

Once they had left Shrilka's Droidworks, T7 finally felt able to ask. "Woman = Jedi?"

She looked back at T7. "Quite a perceptive little thing. Yes, I am Jedi Knight Soldin, and this is my associate Captain Simon Dumas. I have a ship that needs tending, and Simon believes that a T7 unit will be suited for such a role."

T7 chirped happily in response. "T7 = great with ships! // Why Jedi = need droid now?"

Simon coughed. "There were a few ripper droids attacking, and were going after the old one. My valiant efforts at saving the old droid were for naught-"

T7 interrupted. "Dumas = use ion grenade?"

Soldin turned her head away. "A succinct description, little one. But do not worry, attacks on my droids seldom happen. All I ask is that you keep my vessel running smoothly, perform any tasks I ask of you, and warn me of any intruders. I hope you are up to the challenge, a Jedi Knight has a great deal of work they must attend to."

With that, T7 rolled up alongside Soldin. With incalculable certainty, it knew that he would never know thae boredom of the bin again. "T7 + Jedi = great team!"
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #6 on: 03/03/15, 08:07:29 PM »
Originally posted 12/25/2012: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=606.0

Freedom and Power

((Note: First off the date of "6 years ago" is more like 8 now, or maybe 10. Yay time passing!

Second, this was basically the result of me realizing that a barely self-trained pleasure slave would make for instant kibble on Korriban. As hard as she was after freeing herself by murdering her owner at a dinner party in front of Sith... she would still need to grow harder to survive there...))




Dromund Kaas, 6 years ago.

It was an odd sight, too be sure. A tall, heavily muscled Pureblood man, with a small, Twi'lek girl trailing close behind, wearing what could generously be described as two tin cups, two handkerchiefs and a number of straps.

Of course, it had been an odd night as well, a high society party interrupted by the murder of the host, the claiming of the murderer as an apprentice and a rather poor choice of wines for the event.

Zedney sneered momentarily. The wine had half tasted of vinegar, and an Alderaanean red for that dish? Simply Inexcusable.

He stopped, and turned back to the girl, who smiled up at him, deception layered behind that mask of nervous fear. "What is it you are prattling on about?"

The girl cringed again. Definitely feigned again. "...I was only asking what I should be calling you. Is 'my lord' alright?"

Zedney shrugged. "It is acceptable, but I will insist upon Master for some occasions. And do you have a name?"

The girl blinked, in actual surprise, before being replaced with a veneer of eagerness. "Of course! I had thought you knew! Quarasha, my lord!"

Zedney nodded, and continued walking, making for a favored overpass. "Good. I will have a number of duties for you, Quarasha."

She rushed up to his side, again playing the part of the eager servant. How tiresome. "Yes, my lord, what sort of tasks will you ask of me, and what training will I need to fulfill them?"

"My 2V droid suffered a rather serious electrical attack, and will be unable to clean my ship or wash my clothing for some time. Your previous training should suffice."

Quarasha stopped. "What? You want me to be your maid?"

Zedney smiled a dark grin back at Quarasha, walking on. "I'm sorry, I thought you wished to undertake anything I asked."

She rushed forward, slipping back to the role of the servant. "Of course, my lord. You will still teach me how to use the Force, right?"

"Why would I teach a slave how to use the Force?" He stopped, reaching the overpass and turning to the enraged Quarasha.

"...what did you say?"

"I said, why would I teach a slave how to use the Force?"

"I am no slave. I slew my owner and I am free!"

Zedney smirked, seeing the rage on her face, plain as day. "Oh, you are still a slave. You have no idea how... pampered you were. You think to seduce me to showing you the true power of the Dark Side, but how can you understand that if you do not know what power truly is?"

"I know power! The Force is power!"

He shook his head. "The words of a slave with a new toy."

"NEVER CALL ME A SLAVE! I AM FREE!"

The wind was swirling around her now, skirts flapping around her. She was going to attack him, to force him to recognize that-

Zedney reached out with the Force, and lifted her into the air by her neck. The winds ceased as she clawed at her throat, trying in vain to remove the invisible hands crushing her windpipe.

"Do you feel free now?" he asked, just loud enough to be heard. The grip was precise: Just enough air getting through to keep her conscious. "You are still little more than a pampered slave, with no knowledge of what freedom and power truly mean. Would you like to find out?"

She nodded desperately, feet kicking wildly in the air. "Good," he said, smirking as he slowly swung her over the ledge of the overpass, showing her a thirty foot drop onto a pile of garbage beneath her.

"For the next thirty days, you will enter no public building, stay in no private building for more than a day. You will not leave Kaas City either. And then you will return to this spot, and tell me what you have learned of power and freedom. If you have not been killed. Do you understand?"

Quarasha nodded again, terror clear on her face.

"Good." And he dropped her.

He strolled over to the edge, once he heard the crunch, and watched the half naked girl pull herself from the garbage, limping slightly. He thought for a moment, realizing exactly how exposed she was, and pulled his own robes off, throwing them down to Quarasha.

No point in making things unfair, after all.

----

Thirty days later...

Zedney stood at the exact same spot on the overpass, a mug of warm cocoa in his hands, sipping it idly, waiting.

He was half expecting Quarasha not to show up at all, dead from exposure or hunger or the many threats that can take a person in Kaas City. Of course, is she did show up, it would likely be followed by some futile but proud looking attempt at-

Zedney held up his hand, catching the blade flung at his throat with the Force. "Ah, Quarasha, I see you have survived the month. Please, come out where I can see you."

Quarasha limped out of her hiding spot, the leg she landed on thirty days ago still showing some signs of discomfort, with a few bruises on her face, no doubt caused by a few now-missing drunks trying to ply their wares with the young woman. Still, at least she was better dressed now, having 'found' a simple tunic and pants, huddling from the cold under the coat that Zedney had left her a month ago. "Yes, I have survived, my lord. Do not do this to me, ever ag-"

She flinched as Zedney reached out to her, expecting an attack that never came. "Now, now, is that a way to talk to your master?"

"...no, my lord."

"Good. Now them, tell me, do you feel free?"

Quarasha stared at him, agape. "...I am free, my lord. I could have left the city at any time-"

"And you would have died in the wilderness, I assure you. Those instructions were for your own safety, as much as you may disagree. But do you FEEL free?"

"...no, my lord. I am weak, poor, alone, starving. True freedom is more than this."

Zedney gave a faint smile, taking a sip from the drink. "Good. You are learning. True freedom, apprentice, is freedom from everyone. That you need only rely on your own strength and power in order to survive, needing nothing else. And, like all truth, Quarasha, it is terrifying in its realiation."

Quarasha nodded weakly, staring at the mug. "...it is, my lord. Could I-"

"Now then, what is power, apprentice?"

"...power? It is... power. The Force. Being able to force others to do your will."

Zedney sighed, shaking his head and taking another sip. "Still, no understanding. Thing carefully, apperentice. What is power?"

Quarasha continued to stare at the mug, licking her lips. "...if you can't force someone to do something, then you don't have power over them..."

He shook his head again, and reached out with the Force again, dragging the Twi'lek into the air by her throat again. "Something more for you to think upon, then," he said, pulling her struggling form over the ledge, hovering over the garbage pile again. "In thirty days, I will return here again. Follow the same rules as before, Quarasha. I look forward to your thoughts on the matter."

Quarasha glared at him with another cold look of pure hatred."Fffffuc-" she squeaked out before letting out a scream as she was dropped into the garbage again.

Zedney smirked as she landed, and looked down at his mug. Still mostly full, and hot cocoa was hardly his favored drink. A shame to waste it.

The mug had been safely lowered to the ground when Quarasha finally clawed her way out of the trash again, being met with naught but a confused stare from her.

----

Thirty days later...

Zedney caught the two knives this time with one hand, smirking slightly. Quarasha was not disappointing him, it seems.

Quarasha limped up again, scowling at him. Her lovely curves were already melting off from hunger, and a new set of bruises were visible on her face and lek. But it was those eyes, powerful, rage-filled eyes that caught his attention. He knew that look, but it was a hot rage, and it would burn off quickly, or at least Zedney certainly hoped as much.

"You wanted to talk about power?" she said, snarling at him. "Then fight me, show me your power!"

Zedney smirked. "No."

"No? I am your apprentice, right? I should be allowed to kill you for your title!"

At that, Zedney laughed. "Is that what you think, apprentice? That power is so trivial, so easy a thing to measure? Truly, you still do not understand."

"Or maybe you don't!"

Zedney shook his head, still smiling, and reached out, lifting her again into the air by her neck-

At least until Quarasha gestured at him, pushing him with the Force, pushing him a step back, slight surprise on his face. She was growing powerful...

Quarasha landed on her feet, standing tall, not letting her limp show as she strided to the ledge. "Thirty days?"

"Yes, apprentice..."

She nodded, and lept over the ledge, landing in the garbage a few moments later.

----

Thirty days later...

Quarasha walked up this time. Her face looked more full, her stride more even, and her eyes more calm and thoughtful.

Zedney nodded to her. "What is power, apprentice?"

"...power is... its just power. Anything that gives you strength over another. I had power over my owner because he wanted my loyalty, and I knew it. You have power over me because you are stronger, and because I need your knowledge. And I had power over the fools in the street because they thought they they knew what I was."

Zedney smiled again, a small amount of pride showing. "You are learning, apprentice. Well done. Do you know why I have put you through this?"

Quarasha gave him an odd look, clearly wanting to imply a sadistic streak. "...no, my lord."

"You will need the training of the instructors of Korriban, who can teach you the minutia of the Force. Your are wily, cunning and ruthless. I am sure you will make a fine assassin, but only if you survive Korriban."

Quarasha nodded slightly. "...I heard some rumors of Korriban. Sending a pleasure slave there..."

"Yes, you would have died in short order, no doubt killed by some other acolyte to show how awe-inspiring his own might is."

Quarasha considered this, then nodded. "...then thank you, Master. But you could have told me."

Lord Zedney nodded. "Yes, Apprentice. I could have. Do you expect the life of a Sith to be easy, apprentice?"

Quarasha hesitated. "...no, my lord. My life as a slave was far easier. And I will not be a slave ever again."

"Good. Come then, Apprentice Quarasha, and we will begin your life as a Sith."
« Last Edit: 03/03/15, 08:43:54 PM by Orell »
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #7 on: 03/03/15, 08:09:35 PM »
Originally posted 03/26/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=835.msg8212#msg8212

Heart of a Sith

Quarasha closed the door to her Fury, her wry smirk evaporating. An entertaining night, to be sure, but...

She shook her head, and headed off to the cargo bay, slipping around a few crates to the special one, the one in the back. Tapping in the long code for the week, with a little zap as a final signature, and opening it up, the sight bringing a smile to her face...



"You disappoint me, apprentice. The president does have a weakness."

"...my lord, I have been through his files, his records, his secret hiding places-"

"Everyone has a weakness, Quarasha. What do you think his is? Think carefully."




Quarasha sat down on another crate, gazing at the contents. The bracelet, that heartfelt gift, the note of encouragement in the engraving. "Through victory my chains are broken, the Force shall set me free." The last two lines of the Sith Code, her favorites, the truest ones, despised though it was by the man who taught her most.



"We are never free, apprentice. We all have our weaknesses, our chains. Power and Victory can break them, yes, but some will remain, and more will be forged through our life."

A smirk. "You mean you have your own chains?"

"Of course I do. My alliances bind me, just as they grant me power. The demands of biology are chains only the mightiest of Sith can ever break, they will almost certainly always restrain us both."




Her gaze shifted to the holos. Images of her walking, talking, laughing. Gorgeous, beautiful always, even when- no, especially when crying, a woman she couldn't help but-



"The Jedi have one thing right, although for all the wrong reasons. Can you guess what that is, apprentice?"

"That Lightsabers are good weapons?"

"Hm. Two things, then. But they know that love is a weakness. It exposes you, makes you vulnerable. So long as you love someone, it will be a weakness you can never hope to defend against. No true Sith would sully themselves by opening up such a profound weakness in themselves. Find pleasure and companionship if you wish, Apprentice, but always be ready to abandon them, or to strike. Them. Down."




She stared at the holos some more. Darth Necare suspected. Others might as well. She should toss her aside. Break her heart, in front of everyone. Attack her if possible. Shatter this chain.

She knows, it can only end badly. In tears or in corpses, or both, or worse. Do what she was trained to do, what she trained herself to do long ago: Break her chains, free herself of all things, become a slave to nothing.

Become like that other Twi'lek Sith. That Darth, powerful, aged, wise, no doubt having broken her reliance on such petty things. Like happiness, pleasure, possibly even sanity...

What she should do.

Quarasha smiled happily and shook her head, blowing a kiss at the holo and reverently closing the crate. Not today.
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #8 on: 03/03/15, 08:14:34 PM »
Originally posted 04/02/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=835.msg8507#msg8507

Vengeance and Mercy

((Note: This was part of the build up towards the Demerter event, Breaking Chains, although it was back during the planning stages of the actual event, and so... the mercy towards the slavers part didn't show up in the long run...))



The dreamscape was as it always was. Endless, yet confined. Empty for now, but filled the the potential, the chance for more. And through it all, Quarasha drifted, the haze of deep sleep upon her.

She could hear Olle's voice in her mind. Chastising her, telling her to pray that the ones to judge Quarasha's crimes wouldn't be so harsh. The girl had no idea, Quarasha thought, pushing away the voice. They deserve no mercy,

and I-


"She has every idea, Quarasha," came an all too familiar voice.

Hers.

The figure drifted into sight before Quarasha, the familiar Twi'lek, her eyes closed, her face peaceful, sitting cross-legged in meditation, in her brown, Jedi robes, serenity emanating from the figure.

...who are you?

"You know who. Call me Jedi if you wish. But Olle does know, very well. You know what lays in her past, you've seen it with your own eyes. Trust her council."

"Exactly!" came another voice, just as familiar, but steeped in venom. "She's done worse, and she walks without punishment?"

This second form came into view, another Twi'lek, the pale skin, orange, corrupted eyes, pacing in anger in her dark, black robes, the tattoos on her lek seeming all the more vicious.

Let me guess, you're Sith?

The Sith laughed. "No, we are Sith! You know that our enemies deserve no mercy!"

Yes! They-

A sigh came from the Jedi. "They are slavers. They take men, women, children and sell them into service, worrying about naught but their own pockets."

The Sith sneered. "Then we should destroy them! Enact justice at any cost, they won't hurt anyone else!"

"At any cost?"

You know what they do, Jedi! Quarasha sneered at the Jedi as she drifted away.

The Jedi nods, never opening her eyes. "And I know what you do, Quarasha."

A laugh from the Sith. "She grows stronger! She is a slave no longer, she will have ultimate power and none will be able to stop her!"

"At what cost, Sith?"

Who cares about the cost?! Quarasha looked at the Sith that was nearly at her side, sharing a smirk with her.

The Jedi sighs, shaking her head, fading further. "DO you think the slavers care about the cost?"

What?

The Sith scowled. "They hurt her, her and others like her! Who cares about them?!"

"And who cares about the oppressed? Those that toil under the reign of her allies?"

That... that's not nearly the same, Jedi.

The Jedi was coming nearer now, oddly enough. "It is similar. You enslave people, scheme to make them want the enslavement, plot to keep them oppressed. Is it any different, because you cannot hear the screams?"

"No!" shouted the departing Sith. "It is different! She must grow stronger! A victim never again!"

"Strength through the enslavement of others," the Jedi said, shaking her head. "Slavery breeds weakness, Quarasha, you have said so yourself."

I am strong without them, Jedi!

"Then prove it. Cast them off and prove your own strength. Strength on your own shoulders, no one else's."

Yes!

The Sith hollered as she faded away. "You will fail and die a slave to your weakness!"

I am a slave to nothing! I am-



Quarasha groaned as she woke, the alarm blaring in her ear. ...weird dream...
« Last Edit: 03/03/15, 08:21:27 PM by Orell »
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #9 on: 03/03/15, 08:20:09 PM »
Originally posted 05/12/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=835.msg9669#msg9669

Recovery

((Note: This took place after Kyri Orell, then a more minor character and mainly notable as Lien's little sister and friend of a few Smugglery types, was abducted and viciously beaten, including having a message literally carved into her skin. Back with the original post, I included the below comment:

Author's note: If anyone has concerns about this storyline, particularly as its using that old cliche staple of "Fridging", I assure you, I'm well aware of it. Kyri's attack, in the end, will be about her, not about Lien's quest for revenge. I don't intend to do something like this to a character and have it resolved offscreen.

I believe I have followed through on that part. While Lien did quest for revenge, because... of course he would, this could also be seen as the point when I started to RP Kyri more and more, and she's become one of my primary and favorite characters.

Not because of her injury, of course. Because of how she moved on from it, and while it can cause problems for her, she is not defined by it in the slightest))




"...wai', when'd Skavik learn 'owta read minds?" Kyri asked, craining her head at the comic on the datapad.

When all that came from Lien's chair was a unintelligible grunt, she looked over at her brother.

It had been a long day, and then a longer night. Lien hadn't left her side yet, aside from the obvious needs. So, she wasn't too surprised to see him drifting off, but still... "...Li?"

He jerked awake, looking around quickly before focusing on Kyri. "...'orry Ky. Still 'ere, still good, wot'd ya ask?"

"...it ain' 'portan'-" she stopped, seeing the tired look on Lien's face, and just sighed. "...jus' wan'd ta know when Skavik learn'd ta read minds..."

Lien chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "Figure tha's onna his 'Oracle of Telos' powers. Ya know, when 'e got tha Hear' of tha Force an'-"

Kyri groaned, flopping her head onto the pillow. "Ugh, an' he ken pull Force powers outta his ass wit' it? Righ', think I s'ppress'd tha bit."

"Hey, ya know he cannae go too o'erboard wit' it! O'erwise-"

Kyri rolled her eyes, lamenting the terrible, terrible taste of her older brother. "Yah, yah, o'erwise Darth Rendous ken get 'moar powar' an' then hurt Pr'ncess Nila. Ya know i's jus' a dumb lil' excuse ta write 'emselves outta corners."

Lien grinned at Kyri. "Hey! It's na dumb!"

"Is so dumb! Next yer gonna tell me he ken tear 'part starships!"

"Hey, I though' ya hadn't kept up wit' it?"

She giggled this time, smiling at Lien. "Nope, been doin' lotsa 'portan' readin', 'member?"

"Ugh, you and yer textbooks. Betcha know every bone in the hand by heart."

"Yep!" she said, grinning bright and proud.

"I dunno 'bout ya, but I'd rather remember Skavik's stuff than borin' stuff like tha'."

"An' 'ow many manuals on makin' 'splosives have ya read?"

Lien laughed, standing and leaning over the bed, kissing Kyri on the forehead. "That's differen'. 'splosives ain' borin'. I'mma go see wot sorta excuse fer caf they got inna 'firm'ry, a'righ'? Want any? Won' be gone fer but a tick."

Kyri hesitated, a brief wave of fear passing over her face, before shaking her head. "...jus' some water 's fine." At his concenred look, she put on her very best, brave smile and added "I'mma good, Li. Pr'mise."

After another kiss on the forehead, Lien relucantly left, leaving Kyri... alone. She tried going back to the datapad, to the comic, trying to ignore the from the cuts, no, carvings on her arms and legs. The doctor said they would heal  The presence of the cast on her arm was harder to ignore, and even with the kotlo and the painkillers she could still feel the dull throb of pain coming from it.

She shut her eyes for a moment, only a moment, but when she did she saw him again. Falkc, that cold stare, the cold smile, the cold... everything. That look when he was cutting into her, cutting... no one told her what he had written into her skin, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Her arm throbbed again, and she saw him again, raising that pipe, about to strike, tied down, can't move, can't run can't do anything please please I just want to leave I won't tell anyone why-

Lien was shaking her gently, calling her name. She heard someone screaming, someone thrashing against him. She shook her head, throwing the thought aside. She was safe. Not tied down, just an infirmary, hers, she'll be fine.

She clutched at her brother, sobbing into him. "...L-Li..."

"...'m 'ere, Ky. Ain' goin' nowhere," he said, stroking his little sister's hair, trying to focus on her right here, right now, and not on what Falkc had coming to him.
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #10 on: 03/03/15, 08:23:01 PM »
Originally posted 05/27 - 31/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=1060.0

Breaking Chains

((Note: The below story was created as a lead in to the Demeter event, and thus may seem anticlimactic at the end. Be assured, the bad guys were vanquished, the good guys victorious, and Quarasha won too :D

The first second was written by Aylaa (with Ilireth's permission, of course), and I'm including here because she did such a great job with it, and it sets the rest of it up so well.

Also: Aside from Aylaa's section, this was written by me entirely in 5 days, and to date is probably the most all-out I went for this. If I kept this kind of pace up for a month, I'd probably knock NaNoWriMo out of the park >_>))




Aylaa left Quarasha to the "tender" mercies of the captain and his crew. She'd hopefully spared her any additional indignity. The choice to do so was easy once Quar had shown signs of true fear when faced with the Demeter. It wasn't out of kindness. The fear was not of the men or what they might do to her body, but of the ship, of what it represented and of that lowest of points in the twi'lek's previous life. If the twi'lek wished to survive, this instance as well as among the Sith, that was the fear she needed to conquer.

If Quarasha died, then she was not worthy. If she lived, it was a mark of her own mastery over herself and Aylaa could treat her accordingly. Positioning her in the best place to succeed also indebted her to Aylaa in addition to the part she was already playing. Quarasha wasn't an entirely worthless Sith either - she'd shown some restraint sadly lacking in others. The Empire needed predators, not rabid animals. If only the girl would stop fooling around with the enemy and actually convert or smite one or two rather than just enjoying the titillation. Aylaa didn't care which path so long as one was taken; familiarity bred contempt and playing such games made the whole of the Order look... silly.

Pressing on the captain's mind had been... surprisingly easy though it was likely much sloppier than Ilireth would have done. It had been years since she'd needed to ply tradecraft and though she felt rusty, it was sufficient for this instance. The malleable mind of the captain certainly didn't hurt.

Aylaa continued the swaying walk, certain the eyes of the crew and porters were still on her rear as she exited the cargo bay. She kept up the persona all the way back to her own ship, only dropping it once the door was secure behind her. Rolling her shoulders, she walked more normally up the ramp of her ship.

Ilireth was reading several documents on the couch when she returned. "Done with your mystery errand?" he asked, not looking up.

"You slept in late," Aylaa commented with a smirk. She began stripping off the strappy leather detached sleeves as she walked towards the small bedroom.

"Yes, well someone kept me up la- What are you wearing?"

Aylaa paused in the doorway. "Hmm?"

She'd applied false tattoo-like paint to her face - it was a common enough practice in the pleasure industry and it made her look not herself. She'd worn red contacts and had foregone her typical jewelry. Her hair was slicked back as well. Oh, she wouldn't have passed if someone had taken biometric readings or there had been another Force user present, but the crew of the Demeter didn't have such things and she'd not exactly had much time to prepare. It sufficed.

Ilireth continued his bemused study of her appearance. "What were you up to?"

Aylaa smirked and slid into the slight persona she'd taken up, tossing in an additional air of seductive excitement through the Force. "Darling, I am Madame Ley'ona. Purveyor of carnal pleasures both mundane and exotic." She struck a little pose.

Ilireth's eyeridges shot up. "Then I am the God of breasts and wine. I demand a display of wares!"

Aylaa snorted a laugh, undid the clasp on the simple band top, and tossed it at his head.

"I sold Quarasha into slavery," she said dropping the act entirely. She entered the small 'fresher connected to the bedroom and removed the contacts.

"I-" he paused and she could hear his footsteps approaching. "I find I am speechless so I am just going to wait for you to explain matters." He eyed her up and down. "Wait and watch."

Aylaa rolled her eyes and began to wipe away the designs on her face with remover. "She asked me to."

"Ah. What is her plot then?"

Aylaa scrubbed at a particularly thick line on her cheek. "I think she means to kill them all and she wanted it to be a surprise."

"Hm. Revenge?"

"I think," Aylaa said as she pulled faces in the mirror, looking for stray bits of makeup, "This might have been the ship she originated from."  Satisfied she tossed the washcloth into a hamper for the droids to handle later. "Now that she has power, she intends to pay them for their... care in her formative years," she said, exiting the 'fresher.

Ilireth pulled her to him with an arm around her waist. "And she asked you to sell the fiction," he concluded with a nod. "Interesting."

"Seemed like fun," Aylaa told him with a saucy smile. The implied favors now owed were understood.  "I don't think she was expecting me to also dress the part. But it made it easier to mold the mind of the captain since he was already distracted."

Ilireth chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Indeed, it is rather... distracting."

Aylaa playfully pushed away and sauntered further into the bedroom, selecting a replacement top for the one she'd flung at his head. "Got a good price for her, too," she said, winking at him over her shoulder as she contemplated her wardrobe.

"What does a Sith Lord go for these days?" he asked as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Not a clue, but Maisey the pleasure slave sold for twenty-eight thousand up front with an additional five after sale," Aylaa informed him as she pulled on another top.

Ilireth let out a low whistle. "Not bad. When this venture goes explosive, will whatever owners seek out the money?"

Aylaa shrugged a shoulder. "I wore the outfit to create some deniability, but I'm really not worried," she said. She changed her skirt as well.

"Oh? I can think of a few who'd use that to their advantage in the Game."

"I am not worried because I have the three most important tactical resources."

"I await the list in breathless anticipation, My Darkness."

Aylaa snorted another laugh and gave him a droll look. "Money, the Force and Lawyers."

"Ha!"

Aylaa ran a brush through her hair to loosen the gel she'd used to slick it back. "I'm only keeping half anyway. The other half I'm sending to Quarasha with a block of chocolate and something pretty and far more befitting her station. It was a wildly amusing time." She grinned at him.

He reached over and tugged her closer again. "Maisey?"

"One of the freeholders had a nerf named Maisey when I was growing up."

"A nerf?" He laughed. "You realize she is going to hunt you down if she finds out."

"It's a perfectly good name in this case. That nerf was the meanest, surliest, angriest creature. She trampled anything in her way because she could, and gored two range-riders and a tuk'ata that dared to have the temerity to approach her herd, before she died of extreme old age. She was a fixture on that ranch. The hands used to joke that death itself was too afraid of the old cow and had decided to let her be."

Ilireth shook his head, chuckling. "I forget sometimes that on your world even the prey animals are somewhat... violent."

"Exactly, and thus appropriate for the fiction of a docile twi'lek slave." She paused and added with a slight shrug,"Also it was the first thing I thought of."

"I would still wear the heavier phrik armor when next you meet," he advised. "So. What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Once we leave, I have fourteen thousand credits to burn." Aylaa flashed a feral smile as she draped her arms over his shoulders. "I'm going shopping."

Ilireth grinned back. "I will get my coat."



He'll see you make it to your new owner.

Aylaa's last words to Quarasha still rattled in her mind. She knew Aylaa was just playing the part, making the sale look real, putting the Captain off his guard, but... well, that was little comfort to the Sith Lord now, naked, wet, unarmed and being leered at by a few of the Demeter's crew. She could see it in their eyes, what they wanted, what she was to them, what they were going to do with her...

...or would have done, if Aylaa hadn't impressed on the captain the value in not damaging the merchandise. Small favors, she supposed, grabbing at the drab clothing the guards threw at her and putting it on with a hurry, trying to please the idiots with obedience as they led her to the medical ward.

Another bright, clean room. She did what she was told, always what she was told. Stand next to this scanner. Breathe in, breathe out, cough. Look at the light. Open your mouth. Close your mouth. Quarasha tired not to think about it, let herself just be directed around like the puppet she knew they wanted right now.

The guards were lax around her. The two on the door were more interested in the last Huttball match it sounded like. The doctor busy in his work, checking her ov- no, checking the merchandise for flaws. There was no concern in his movements, she might as well have been just a droid for all the difference it made to him.

"Good vitals, bit higher muscle mass than I'm used to, blood work's good except for the Midichlorian count..."

Quarasha's eyes widened slightly. If he was checking, then he probably thought that the Midichlorian count meant SIth. She was found out. The guards were going to kill her. She had to go on the offensive and kill them all and get to the-

The doctor smirked at Quarasha. He noticed her reaction. Punch to the throat should- "Thinking you'll be set free for that? Don't get your hopes up, you're not going anywhere near Korriban, little Maisey." She caught herself before she could show any relief

"Doc, you done yet? Game's on ten, we gotta to dump her in the hold." That was one of the guards.

The doc chuckled and tapped the console. "Yeah, I'm done here. Why don't you give her a ride first, should give you five minutes to lock her away."

One of the guards grabbed her arm and pulled her off the biobed, the other gesturing his response.

It wasn't a long walk. The guards weren't looking at her, talking about the game, just assuming that the Twi'lek slave in rags wouldn't try to attack two armed guards wearing body armor. Not that them being attentive would stop her. Grab the combat knife, ram it up into the head, hit the other with lightning and finish him off while he's twitching.

She was about to strike when she remembered herself. No attacking, not yet. Work to do. Have to wait.

They turned into a narrow hallway, then another turn, and another. Hallways that... looked familiar. She knew these. She had been through these long ago, the other way, when she was...

There were other girls, other Twi'leks, just as young as her, being led through the corridors. They were in port, you could tell because the deck stopped shaking. She was so proud when she figured that out, and now she was being led out of the home! Does this mean she was being given to a family? She'd been alone for so long, only the other girls to keep her company in the home. They didn't like her though, they kept saying she was cheating at the games. It wasn't her fault the sticks kept falling her way! Her new family would love her though, she just knew it!

Quarasha blinked away the memory, staring at the heavy door. Airlock sealed. The cargo hold was behind it. Her old home.

The slave pit.

There was no ceremony to it, they just opened the door and shoved her in. She stared out into the hold, filled with people, partitions, little fences cobbled together out of junk and trash, a few refresher stations...

...and, on the ceiling and on the floor. Four large circles in the hull. Airlocks. Those open and everyone in the hold dies. She'd die. No more Sasmi, no more power, no more fun, no more anything.

Her eyes narrowed. Better get to work.



"Hey, newbie, you done starin'?"

Quarasha looked over at the voice, the words heavy with scorn and impatience. "Hey, you got ears, good for you!" she said, a cruel smirk drifting over the Togruta's face. "Now, unless you like being on your hands and knees, hop to it before some asshole gets the wrong idea?"

A week ago, Quarasha would have tossed back an remark at the girl, possibly with a blast of lightning to show the folly of insulting a Sith Lord. But that wouldn't do for the Maisey the Pleasure Slave, so she bit back the sneer and comment and instead just stood, giving a practiced weak smile at the Togruta. "I'm sorry. I just-"

The Togruta rolled her eyes. She wasn't bad looking, of course. The white and red face was a bit jarring on first sight, and she was still young, only a few years younger than Quarasha was when she broke free. But the rags did nothing for her and neither did the sneer that was still on her face. "Yeah, yeah, shut up and I'll give you the grand freaking tour."

Quarasha looked around. The cargo bay was, really, just that. Aside from the food dispensers, freshers and what little privacy partitions the Demeter's crew bothered to give to the slaves, there was really nothing to note about it. Durasteel walls, a high ceiling, and those ever-threatening airlocks. "I think I can find my-"

The Togruta grabbed Quarasha's arm and dragged her along, giving her a briefly puzzled look as Quarasha stumbled after her. "I do this, I might get enough notice to get sold off, so shut up and follow me. You have a name?"

Quarasha bit her lip, keeping her nervous act going. "...Maisey."

Another odd look for the Togruta. "Right. I'm Asori. Bastard that sold me here called me some shit that's got a dozen a's in it, because that's what sounds sexy," she said, sneering briefly.

Quarasha nodded with a slight, genuine smile. "...are you from Shili?" she asked, figuring that a naive slave would figure that all non-humans are from their species' homeworlds.

"Do I sound like one fo those homegrown assholes? Nah, Coruscant."

"...how did you come to be here? Do not tell me that you were taken from the streets there?"

That earned another puzzled look from Asori. Shit, she's seeing through it. Calm down, you can do this... Quarasha thought to herself as Asori responded. "Nah. We were heading to the outer rim. Folks got a job out there after the sacking and ship got jumped." She narrowed her eyes, and Quarasha could sense the anger simmering off of her. "...bastards. First job they'd gotten in years, and they didn't even..."

Quarasha nodded. This one had promise, at least. Not all the slaves in here were broken yet, and how many more... "...I'm sorry. But... why do you want to get sold? You don't like it here?"

Asori gave Quarasha a big, false smile. "Oh, all of us want to be out there with new owners who will treat us properly and won't ever mistreat us and give us all sorts of wonderful things to do!"

That earned a real smile from Quarasha, although she cursed herself for it, her mind racing. Crap, Maisey wouldn't smile at that! She'd frown! She likes being a slave, and she can't be so dim as to believe that crap, unless she knew others who thought that way and- "...I've heard that sort of thing before. I'm sure you'll mean in once you meet your new family." she lied smoothly, keeping that stupid, idiotic smile on her face.

At least until Asori glared at her. There was murder in her eyes now, a fierceness- "...you were owned before coming here?" she asked, already knowing the answer. She knew that rage like a good, old friend.

"Yeah.  Some Hutt wanted a dancer. I didn't want to dance. Felt more like sprinting. Fifth try I got sold off here. And once I get pawned off on some loser slaver, I'm gonna break loose again, just watch."

Quarasha was about to reply before Asori cut her off. "Question time's over Maisey. Food comes out there, 'freshers are over there, don't spend too long 'round those circles in the ground or they'll open and suck you out into space, all the privacy places got cameras in them 'cause the crew are perverts, and if you tell anyone about what I told you I'll cut you open and don't you dare think I won't try it!"

Asori stormed off when she finished, pushing aside a human twice her size that was in her way, knocking him flat on his ass. For the best, Quarasha considered, because there was no way Quarasha could hide her look of shock to that last sentence.

Not the words, of course. She was used to hearing threats from weaklings. No, it was unfocused, untrained, instinctive, probably only subconscious, but it was still there.

Asori had tried to mind-trick her.

She had the Force.



Quarasha, Age 8

It was difficult for Quarasha, standing still on the stage, smiling, and not gaping at the sights around her.

She'd never seen this part of the ship before. Home was so much simpler, but this room was just... weird. There were chairs on the deck in front of the stage, red and brown and looking incredibly soft and comfy. She knew better than to ask the crewmen if she could take one back home so she could sleep in it, but she still wanted to. The deck back in the home was so hard, her lekkies sometimes got caught under her when she rolled around and they hurt and woke her up.

The crewman on the stage with her cleared his throat, banishing her thoughts. She must have slouched. She knows not to slouch, if she slouches than the new family won't like her, won't take her to the new home and won't love her. All the adults back home talked about how great it was to get a new family, and there was a visitor here, a young human not much older than her! She knew that she'd make a great sister for the visitor!

She didn't understand, though. Why were there these other girls here? A human, a Catty, a Zabry and Quarasha were all on the stage, and the visitor was looking over all four of them for some reason...

The visitor got to Quarasha and leaned close, squinting at her clothing. It was weird clothes. Quarasha liked the loose stuff back in home more. She knew the visitor would take her if she was wearing that better clothing, not this weird, tiny shirt and skirt. It just looked silly on her, much worse than the normal shirt and skirt.

"What's those things on your head?" The visitor was talking to her! Quarasha looked up at the crewman, who nodded slightly. She could talk back to her too!

Quarasha grinned at her. "They're my lekky. They're like hair, but I can move them around!"

The girl grimaced. "Eew. That's gross! And why are they all stripey?"

Quarasha blinked. "Because? I like them stripey!" The crewman cleared his throat again, but why shouldn't Quarasha defend her lekky? She liked them!

The girl stuck her tongue out at Quarasha, yanking on one of her lekkies, and it really hurt! "They're stupid! I don't want you!" she said, still yanking on them.

Quarasha knew she wasn't supposed to touch the visitors. It would make them and the crewmen mad, and you might not get a family. But the visitor was hurting her! She wanted her to stop! She'd just push her a little-

"You break it, you bought it," the crewman said in a rush, and the visitor let go of Quarasha's lekku, and she quickly reached for it, cradling it in her arms. Why did the crewman say that? It didn't make sense. But at least the visitor let go.

Still, it made Quarasha sad when the Catty went off with the visitor. Quarasha knew that she'd be a much better sister than some dumb Catty! She'd be the best new family member ever, they'd see!



Present, Day 2 aboard the Demeter

This was one of the hardest decisions Quarasha needed to make in some time.

On one hand, she needed to keep her strength up. She'd only managed to disable one of the airlocks thus far, and there had been no reaction from the guards or crew, so she was safe to work on the other seven, and four of them would require a lot of climbing. And she needed to keep looking like the dutiful, passive, trustworthy slavegirl.

On the other, calling the slop she was given food was an insult to food.

And field rations.

And garbage, for that matter.

Quarasha sighed and shoveled another handful of the pap into her mouth, making a silent vow to binge on chocolate once this was all done. At least the sights were... something.

A half-dozen girls were playing... some sort of game, with brightly colored rods that they would toss up and run around...

She smirked slightly. She could barely remember the rules from the bad old days, and either her memory was completely wrong, or they were playing a completely different game. Assuming there were any rules at all, because every five minutes they'd stop running and tossing the rods and start arguing about one thing or another and how the red rod can't touch the green rod and you have to pick up the blue one if you were closest to the yellow, but if the purple one was touching either the red or the blue then you had to sit out until the black rod touched the orange and Quarasha was pretty sure that they were just making this up as they went along.

A surreptitious glance caught more than a few other faces watching the game. She couldn't blame them, really. It was almost... innocent, how they were acting. Like they were normal kids, or at least the kids from holo's. No doubt no one had told them what they were really doing here. What they were to the crew, to the 'visitors', to the customers, to the galaxy...

Most of the other slaves were leaving her alone, though. None of the men were making any advances, or 'advances', which left Quarasha a touch conflicted, at least until one of the women explained that the crew would punish any slaves that caused any problems, and reward anyone that helped keep order. She even heard a few rumors that, if you acted good enough, you might even be set free, or given a job on the ship.

It took all of Quarasha's self control not to laugh at that notion.

A soft cough broke her concentration, and she looked up into the carefully blank expression of Asori. "...yes?"

Asori sat down next to Quarasha, keeping her voice low. "...what are you, Maissy?"

"...I... what do you mean?" she asked, looking confused. She'd been keeping an eye out for the Togruta, who seemed to be doing the same. The girl had potential, and it was a wonder the Jedi never found her. But she was also a threat, and couldn't be trusted. If Asori sold her out to the crew, then the whole plan would fall apart.

"Cut the crap. Your 'I'm a good little slave' act is too good, and you keep looking around. You might've fooled the idiots here, but not me."

Still, Quarasha was finding it difficult not to like the brashness. "I don't know what you think I am, but-"

Maisey whispered, just barely audible. "...you want me to tell on you, J?", earning a confused look. "J. They listen for some words. What starts with J?"

Somehow, Quarasha's lips only briefly twitched, once she realized it. J. Jedi. Asori thought she was a Jedi... "...I'm not a- one of those."

"You don't think I'll tell? They might release me if I rat you out and I'm right. Especially if you're doing something here."

The warmth and innocence fled from Quarasha's face, a steel gaze replacing it. "Do you really believe that."

Asori blinked. It wasn't just a suspicion she had, Quarasha realized. It was hope. Asori was hoping that Quarasha was really a Jedi, really here to save them all, to set her free. That one look of hope, of pleading, on her face... Quarasha knew, Asori wasn't going to turn her in. She wanted to help.

"...yes... no... I don't know. You hear-"

Quarasha cut her off. "You hear precisely what they want you to hear," slipping into her more natural Imperial accept, her voice still soft, the laughing cheers of the children at play drowning her out to all but Asori.

"...I want to help."

"I don't need it." Quarasha didn't really. She needed Asori quiet. She knew far too well how an excitable, untrained assistant could mess up a risky plan.

Asori didn't seem to care, though, judging by the eagerness that wasn't leaving her face. "Please. You can't... do this alone. Let me help. I'll watch out for you, make sure no one else will turn you in or anything!" Asori grinned, getting up and bounding off before Quarasha could say another word, leaving the Sith Lord just sitting there, stunned once again by Asori.

Force? This is Quarasha. I hate you. Thought you should know...



Elsewhere on the Demeter...

Corporal Peln frowned at his screen, staring at the image of the Demeter's newest slave, Maisey.

Captain Levin said that there was nothing unusual about her. Chief Rhodes only shrugged when Peln asked about her, muttering something about the hold being secure, and some of the other guards were just joking that she was an ex-girlfriend of his.

Peln shook his head, carefully examining the face on the screen. She was... familiar. Maybe it was just the tattoos. Or the skin tone. Or her expression. Or... something...

Whatever it was, Peln didn't work his way out of the home by not being thorough. Maisey would get special attention during his round of monitoring. If she was up to something, it was going to be his job to stop her before the idiot slave got the entire stock killed.



Quarasha, Age 9

Quarasha was sad to be home again. She'd been there for a long time already, and there weren't many other children her age here. Sometimes new ones would arrive for a few weeks, and then they'd get their new families, usually getting picked over her. It wasn't fair, she'd been here forever and no one wanted her! Mommy and Daddy said that there'd be lots of great families that would want her and take care of her, but... maybe it was something wrong with her?

She made a beeline towards her favorite spot, a little corner of the home made by one of the big walls and one of the little ones, plopping down in an indignant little heap. Maybe they just didn't like her lekki- lekku? Or maybe it was the stripes? Or maybe she was just too little. She tried to be friendly, always smiling at the visitors and trying to be cheerful, but they didn't want her.

"Hey, Quar, you alright?"

Quarasha looked up and smiled up at Peln, reaching for one of the plates of food he had brought her. "Yeah, I'm okay. I just didn't get picked again."

Peln rubbed her head, smiling and sliding down next to Quarasha. "Yeah, I noticed. Still, at least you've got me?" he said, putting on the cheesiest smile he could, earning a giggle from the young Twi'lek.

Peln was only a few years older than her, and nice for a human, although his hair always looked weird. He'd look much better with lekku instead, but Quarasha still liked him. He was one of the only kids that was nice to her, never yelled at her about anything and always gave her a hug when one of the other kids pulled her lekku. "When do you think you'll get a new family, Pely?"

Peln's face went... weird for a second. She didn't really understand why, Peln was really nice and should get a great new family, but maybe no one wanted boy humans, like they never seemed to want girl Twi'leks? "I dunno. Sometime? I'm not in any hurry to leave you here alone."

She leaned over to give him a little, one-armed hug, almost spilling her food onto his pants. "Thanks, Pely. So, any new gossip...?" she grinned. Peln was great at hearing what was going on here at home. There were always new people coming and going after all, and out of seven hundred people there had to be something interesting happening!

He grinned, settling in and lowering his voice to the perfect tone for gossip. "...well, Zell was caught kissing Tolnar, and that made Vostran really mad. There was almost a fight here-"

"And I missed it?" she asked, pouting at the older boy.

"Tell you what, Quar," he said, grinning. "Next time there's a fight, I'll ask them to hold it until you get back." After Quarasha finished laughing, he went on, detailing the little things that were happening, some people cheating at Sticks, little relationship spouts, arguments and rows and little pranks getting played on people getting so into the gossip that he forgot his audience, ending with, "...and Bolsen was talking about how he'll attack the next bunch of visitors that come look at him."

Quarasha cocked her head. "Why? Doesn't he want a new family?"

Peln gaped. He didn't want Quarasha to know about... about all this yet. She was still young, still a kid, she couldn't understand it all yet... "...uh, he's just... mad that it's taking so long," he lied, knowing that Quarasha would never doubt a word he said.

"...well, then someone should help him! Or... warn the crew, maybe? So that the nice visitors don't get hurt?"

Peln nodded numbly. The thought had occurred to him, and people were always talking about how you got extra favors if you kept the peace, and it wouldn't help anyone if they started hurting the buyers... "...that's a good idea, Quar. But don't talk about it? Ol' Bolsen might not understand, you know?"

She nodded cheerfully, grinning and then covering her mouth, zipping it up. She was glad that Peln was going to help Bolsen and the visitors. He'd make sure no one would get hurt.



Present, Day 3 aboard the Demeter

Hold the pose, don't think about it, just don't look too appealing, you'll be fine...

It wasn't an unfamiliar pose, not in the least. A carefully practiced, seductive pose in the dancer's usual uniform and an inviting smile on her face, the universal image of an eager slave just waiting for a good, nice master. Just the image she needed to take, just the image everyone expected of her, just the image that disgusted her to the depths of her soul, and just the image that would appeal the the loathesome monsters that would desire.

She wasn't alone, thankfully. Four others were on the stage with her, the familiar one, albeit probably retouched, refinished and possibly replaced over the years, four other Twi'leks around her age, similar build, similar height, but different colors. She just needed to make sure one of the other slaves were chosen, just not her, any of them would do except her. And he seemed interested in one of the other ones, running his hand down her lekku to hear the- Focus on something else, anything else, that... that Prime Minister you cut up and executed. Her heart sped up slightly, her smiling growing slightly more feral, more intimidating...

...at least until "...ooooh, I like ones with a bit of spine..." came from the buyer. Her smile froze breath quickening slightly, until she realized he wasn't looking at her. Lucky. Something else, the bracelet? The bracelet and the stash!

When the buyer got to Quarasha, there was a touch of sorrow in her eyes, her smile softer and gentler than anything. She didn't flinch when he reached for her jaw, turning her head left and right, keeping a critical eye on her features. She didn't notice when he stroked her skin, circled around her, or even when he leaned in for a sniff, her thoughts were far off, focused on her most prized treasure, a happier, safer, more comfortable, more l-

The crewman clapped his hands sharply, and Quarasha looked to the door, seeing the buyer departing with a blue Twi'lek following. Trel-something. She had seen that one around the hold, clearly one of the broken ones, willing to do whatever the good master wanted, no matter what that was.

Good. Better one that had been broken already. There's nothing anyone could do about them, best to just let it be, she had another seven hundred to save already...

It was halfway back to the dressing rooms that she decided to at least make an effort to find her. She caught the name "Mr. Mirnor" from the crewman, should make it simple enough to find him if they recover the ship logs. At the very least he deserves a few thousand volts of Sith punishment for the way he touched me... she thought, suppressing a shiver as she changed out of the dancer's garments and into something that actually covered skin. Still, at least nothing had gone wrong. The buyer picked someone else, and if anyone noticed anything out of character for Maisey, than they didn't-
"Hey, Rye, you in a hurry?"

Quarasha looked over at the guard and the... oddly familiar voice. Another one of the guards here, judging by the blaster on his hip. A human man, not bad looking, but not exactly Quarasha's type either, even discounting the 'vile slaver aspect'. Something about those eyes.

"Not really. Something up?" Rye responded to the newcomer, who shrugged.

"Just want a word with the yellow one. Give me five?" Rye waved him over, giving Quarasha a suspicious look and raising up that dread once again in the Sith. Asori must have sold me out, that vile little- She smiled softly, looking down at the deck plating.

"You're Maisey, right?" he asked, earning a soft nod from the weak, pitiful little slave-girl, or at least that's what Quarasha was hoping he saw. "Have you been on this ship before?"

Quarasha almost shook her head before realizing the trap. What has she seen, but a few spartan hallways, a generic medical room, a cargo hold and a showroom? She was acting too good to be new to these ships, and a slave wouldn't know any ship registries, would she? Or would she just assume that they're all different, even if she's been on them before?

She glanced up at the guard, pointing at her mouth. At his nod, she answered, in her softest voice. "...I do not think so."

"You don't think so?" he asked, frowning.

"The rooms feel different, sir, but they always do. I do not know."

The guard started to look over her, and Quarasha was briefly thankful that most of her skin was covered. Sasmi had healed the worst of her... distinguishing characteristics, but there still might be more there, still might need to worry about being recognized. Still, in the end he nodded, still frowning to himself. "I hope you've been behaving, Maisey."

"Yes sir," she said, grateful that he was moving to simpler-

The slap caught her by surprise, a solid blow across her face, knocking her into the lockers and forcing Maisey to clutch against the them, protecting herself, not wanting another strike, not wanting to be hurt again. "You're not to speak without permission, slave. Get back in line."

Maisey nodded quickly, hustling back to the other slaves, breathing slowly, not understanding why the guard had struck her like that, she had permission-

It took a few steps before Quarasha came back to herself. And it wasn't until she reached the hold again that she truly understood what just happened.

She had failed.


A few hours later...

Quarasha stared up at the ceiling, focusing on the two airlocks she hadn't disabled yet. Her arms weren't exactly pain-free after last night's climbing adventure, but it had proven simple enough: Cloak yourself from sight with the Force while in a camera blindspot, climb up the rungs to the ceiling, and then the rungs along the ceiling, unlatch and slide open a panel with the Force and deliver a few hundred volts to the control mechanism. Do it right and the airlock will jam in place when the open command is given, and after five more get disabled, the slavers would lose their leverage.

Simple. Assuming nothing goes-

Quarasha sighed. She was learning not to finish those thoughts. The moment you do someone comes up and throws a-

Asori sat down, glaring at Quarasha. "Not mad, act."

Quarasha sighed, and hung her head, not entirely for show. "...what do you want now?"

"I've been listening. You're good so far, no one's gossiping about you."

"...splendid."

The Togruta kept her glare going, but there was a very quick little smirk behind it. "And I have good news. There's others that will help."

She winced, this time not at all for show. "...you told-"

"I didn't tell anyone anything. I'm not an idiot."

"...you're sure about that?"

Asori went on, ignoring the comment. "I know the ones here that would help if they know, that's what I mean."

The Sith Lord sighed, bracing for the bad news. "And how many is that."

"Twenty. More if it starts going well. We don't want to be broken people."

"...we're all broken, Asori. You, me, the children. This breaks us all, it's only a matter of how much."

Asori sat there, staring at Quarasha, the statement clearly not being what she expected in the least. "You're giving-"

"No. I will let you know if I need you." She raised her head, gazing at the young woman. "But do nothing until then. Understood? You might ruin everything if you do."

"Right. Slap coming."

What? Sla-

Asori reared her hand back and lashed out, but Quarasha was quicker this time, wrapping her arms around her head, deflecting the blow, dimly aware of Asori yelling about 'Baisey' making eyes at some boy or another. It was a few moments before she felt safe to sit up, looking around in puzzlement, and laughing on the inside at the brash young girl with the sharp, if cliched, mind.



Present, Day 4 aboard the Demeter

Captain Levin smiled when the door to his office opened, revealing the overeager Corporal Peln. You could cut steel with the sharpness of the salute the young man snapped off, always something Levin liked to see in the subordinates, particularly the ones that were from the pit. He'd taken no small amount of risk in offering Peln the contract, a year of indentured servitude in exchange for his services rendered in keeping the cargo in line, but the lad showed his ability, both during that year and the four that followed. Set a slave to catch a slave, as it were...

"Sir. Permission to speak freely?" Peln said, keeping his eyes locked on the wall above Peln's head. Levin smiled at him and nodded. Nothing taught discipline like the slave pit. "I think something's going to happen soon."

"Something?" Levin asked, smirking. "I don't suppose you could be more specific?"

"No sir."

"No?" He frowned, giving Peln a searching look. "If this is your idea of hedging your bets, Corporal..."

"It's not that, sir. I just... have a feeling," Peln said, shifting uncomfortably, not meeting Levin's eyes. "I wish I could explain, but-"

"Is this about that slave you beat, Peln?"

"I didn't-"

"Rye said that you threw her into one of the dressing room lockers. I can't have that on my ship, Corporal. I'm hoping for sixty thousand from that one, and if you had injured her I'd be most... displeased."

Now Peln looked bashful. "I wasn't expecting her to react like that. Something's been bugging me about her, but..." He seemed to be struggling to explain, but stopped, seeing the captain stand.

"What were you expecting her to do when slapped?" he asked, an even, calm, encouraging tone. He wasn't thrilled with the corporal's actions, but he still deserved the benefit of the doubt. For now, at least.

"To catch the slap, or back away, or something other than just get hit by it..."

Ahhh... "You don't think she's REALLY a slave?"

"I... I thought that. Now I'm not sure."

"But you're sure something's happening?"

Peln nodded. "Some of the borderline rebellious ones are acting differently. Standing, walking, eating differently. Like they have a sort of hope or... something."

Levin leaned forward, flipping on his monitor and selecting the cargo hold's main camera. He'd been doing this a long time, and seen a few riots on the cargo hold. He knew what to look for, lots of gathering crowds, the children being kept out of the main areas, people staring at the fasteners on the wall. None of that, at least not yet. He noticed a few known troublemakers, though. The Togruta was staying on the move, looking at people and glancing at the cameras. The Cathar was sittting next to... that new Twi'lek.

After a few minutes of watching, Levin spoke up. "Any keyword hits on the eavesdropper?"

Peln shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing from the usual suspects at all, minor, coincidental hits from the others."

Troubling. But the Cathar was a softie, he could just be comforting the new guest, and the Togruta was always doing this... "...thank you for the information, Corporal. I hope you won't be offended if I hope you're wrong?"

Corporal Peln nodded crisply, smiling with relief. "Of course, sir. I hope I'm wrong too, I don't want them to get killed."

"And that's what makes you a good security officer, Peln. You care about their safety, and I only wish I have five more like you. Dismissed."

Peln snapped off another eager salute and departed, leaving a bemused Captain Levin. It was adorable how easy it was to manipulate the former slaves from the hold...



In the cargo hold...

"...it's hardly as though it was the only time I've been in that situation. But it's something that I've had to struggle with for a long time, and... I failed again."

She looked up at the Cathar, who nodded, gazing encouraging at her, earning a smile from Quarasha.

"I don't want to keep being like that. Perhaps it was simply that I had to keep things going, and it was instinct to act that way..."

The Cathar shook his head, and she knew he was right. She was lying to herself, nothing more.

She smiled weakly at him and nodded, adding "...I suppose you're wondering why?" He just shrugged, then nodded. "The first thing I learned out there. Power untested is only a lie we tell ourselves. We must test ourselves to know where we stand. To know what we must defeat. And now I know... that I am not beyond this."

The Cathar smiled again at her, and wrapped his arms around her, gently squeezing the Sith and nearly getting a blast of electricity for his trouble. "...I don't like being touched..." she said,  muffled by the man's chest, and she didn't bother to hide her smile when he let go of her. "Thank you... you don't talk much, do you?"

He shrugged, then opened his mouth, revealing a stump of a tongue in his mouth. "...ah. Point taken," she said, grimacing at the sight. "At least you're a good listener?"

Asori strolled up, grinning at the Cathar's rather expressive gesture. "Bolin isn't bothering you, right, Maisey?"

Quarasha shook her head, gesturing to the wall. "Have a seat."

"Thanks..." she said, nodding to Bolin, who sprung up and walked off. "...you sure you're not J?"

Quarasha blinked at the Togruta. "...that's a rather personal question..."

"No, no, the letter?"

"Oh. Yes, I'm rather certain of that."

"So..."

She looked over at the Togruta. The girl was eager, cunning, brave and possessing great potential. Perhaps she deserved... "By your terms, I'm an S."

"...you haven't been that mean," pondered Asori, cocking her head.

"...the letter."

"Oh... oh." She blinked at Quarasha, the familiar taste of fear coming off her. "Oh! Uh... oh..."

Quarasha fought the urge to smirk. Truly amazing how powerful that word was. "Do not worry, I'm not here for you. I'm here for them."

"But the-" she said, before clamping her mouth shut, eyes glancing at the ceiling, and thus the airlocks.

"Will be taken care of."

"...right..." Asori just sat there, staring out into space. Quarasha knew that look, the 'try not to offend the Sith Lord that's a foot away from me and helping me' look. Might as well break a few misconceptions...

"It's not about all that, you know. Being an S is about strength. Will. Becoming more than you are."

"...but.. why are you here?"

Quarasha looked at Asori, drawing in the girl's eyes. "Because I was here once. Like you once. Then I become something more, because I had always been something more. It simply took time to realize it."

"You were here? And... like me?"

The Sith Lord smiled at the young Togruta. "I was somewhat younger then. But potential is potential. And you have it."

"...potential?"

"You have not noticed? Your instincts, your persuasiveness, your will? They are the mark of what you could be. An S."

By Quarasha's eye, Asori was simply overwhelmed by this. She thought she was one thing, and now... now she knows what else she could become. It took her some time before she came to a decision, but Quarasha knew the moment it happened. The anger that was always inside her hardened into something... more.  "...teach me."

"Soon."

The Togruta nodded and stood, walking off.

Quarasha nodded to herself and closed her eyes. It was almost time to end this charade. She could disable the last of the airlocks tonight, take away the last resort that the Demeter had, opening the doors for her allies to attack. Only figuratively speaking, sadly.

...and it meant that, even if for only a brief moment, she could contact her beloved.

Tomorrow, she shouted out to Sasmi, through the Force, putting all her will into making this one word reach her.

It would be a wonderful day.



Quarasha, Age 9

Quarasha was glad that she wasn't in the tiny, ugly clothing now, although she was wondering why the crewmen always had her in that clothing when meeting visitors, and not this stuff. It wasn't baggy like her Home clothing, but it was nice and snug and warm and even looked good! And she was alone this time, there wouldn't be any Zabrys or Cattys to distract visitors from her! Maybe someone just knew she would be a great addition to her family!

The door to the showy-room slid open, and there was the security chief there, Levy she thought he was called, talking to a visitor. Another human, and kinda fat this time. Still, Quarasha smiled and gave a little wave, like the crewman told her to. She always made sure to follow their instructions, they wanted her to find a new family just as much as she did!

The fat man smiled at her. "Is this the delightful little Quarasha?"

Levy smiled and nodded. "That she is. She's been looking forward to meeting someone that will take care of her."

Quarasha nodded quickly. Too quickly, dummy! They don't want you to look too eager! She stopped, giggling bashfully and looking away.

"Now now," the visitor said, his smile widening, "No need for that. My name is Rhyven Calder, but I prefer to be called Master Calder by sweet little girls like you."

Quarasha smiled at him, nodding. "Okay, Master Calder."

Levy looked a little... weird, and Quarasha cocked her head at him, and so did Master Calder. "...is something wrong?" he asked, frowning at Levy.

He shook his head at him. "No, just... we have some older Twi'leks here as well..."

Master Calder laughed at Levy, and apparently missing Quarasha's quick glare. Here was someone that wanted her, and Levy was trying to get someone else to join Master Calder's family? How dare he! "No, no, you don't understand. I like having young girls around to do little tasks here and there, Chief Levin. I'm sure she'll... grow into other roles, as befits a sweet young girl, but I'm not that sort!"

Levy seemed to relax at that and nodded, tapping on that block he was holding. "...sorry, sir. I didn't mean to judge. We've received the five thousand, and you're cleared for departure. It's been a pleasure, sir."

Master Calder smiled and walked over to Quarasha. "Come with me, child. A grand future for you awaits."

Quarasha smiled, the happiest she'd ever been and took his hand. "Levy, can you say goodbye to Peln for me?"

Levy smiled very briefly. "...of course. Goodbye, Quarasha."

"Goodbye Levy!" she exclaimed, giggling, following Master Calder to the new life that awaited her...
« Last Edit: 03/03/15, 11:09:23 PM by Orell »
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #11 on: 03/03/15, 08:26:14 PM »
Originally posted 06/10/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=1147.0

The Good Ship Abstello

((Note: ...if you're not quite getting the joke, please watch this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-RZBXVMMd00



Lien frowned at the report on his desk when Captain Toldar walked in. Navy captain, which meant that he outranked Lien, not that the veteran special forces officer would give the navy brat that satisfaction...

"Orell, you needed something?" Toldar asked, taking a seat.

Lien nodded. "Going over the duty rosters for some of our far flung patrols. Wondering if we can tighten some things up, promote some folk we might be overlooking."

The captain shrugged. "Of course, Captain. But those crews tend to be cobbled from dead end people, trouble-makers, officers that make second lieutenants look competent. Those are low risk patrols, worst they run into is a few smugglers."

"Right, Captain, and I've can't argue with you on most of them. A few I think could use a second chance, but that's really not why I'm chatting with you. I got to one ship-"

Toldar sighed. "The Abstello?"

"You know it?"

He nodded. "Yes, Captain. It's... complicated."

Lien sighed. "...just give me the rundown on the officers, alright? The reports I got were confusing."

Toldar squirmed in his seat, not meeting Lien's eyes. "You have to understand something about this ship. It's one of our lowest risk patrols, the crew is capable but... with an unusual sense of humor. It simply seemed prudent to... isolate them all to one vessel, and it has proven-

Lien sighed again. "...fine, fine. Just be straight with me, okay? Start with the name of the pilot?"

"Who."

"The pilot."

"Who."

"...Toldar, the name of the pilot."

"That's what I'm saying, who."

Lien frowned. "What is the name of the pilot."

Toldar shook his head. "That's the co-pilot."

"Who's the co-pilot?"

"No, the pilot."

"I thought you were talking about the co-pilot!"

"You said the co-pilot's name!"

"I don't know the co-pilot's name!"

Toldar sighed. "No, he's sensors. One crew position at a time, please."

Lien gaped at Toldar, then looked back at his notes, which were of no help what so ever. "...okay. Okay. So, if the captain gives a course correction, he tells who?"

"Correct."

"Who?"

"Correct!" Toldar beamed.

"...right..." Lien sighed, tapping down the note. "So, who's Correct's co-pilot?"

"No, no, no! Who is the pilot."

"What?"

"No, co-pilot."

"I... you... wh- You just said Correct!"

"Yes, you were saying who was the pilot!"

"...so, who is the pilot?"

"Correct!"

Lien sighed. "...okay. Co-pilot."

"What."

"...the co-pilot officer slot."

Toldar nodded. "What."

"...it's the guy that does trajectory calculations. You've heard of it, right?"

"Of course! I'm a life-long navy man!"

"Right. So who's the co-pilot."

"No, who is the pilot!"

"I don't know!"

"Sensors again, Captain." Toldar said calmly, the tone only enraging Lien more. "Can you please pay more attention?"

"...lets go somewhere else. Ship's got a CMO, right?'

"Of course. It'd be rather shameful for a ship to go out on long patrol without a doctor."

"So, the name of the CMO?"

"Why."

"...it's the whole point of this meeting."

"I know, Captain."

"So tell me the name of the CMO," Lien said, with barely restrained patience.

"Why."

"Because I'm asking! Who's the CMO?"

"No, who is the pi-"

Something snapped in Lien. "Stay off the damn bridge!"

Toldar just sat there, politely waiting as Lien glared at him. Calm down, Li. No point in gettin' worked up like this... "...okay. Main gunner for the Abstello. Name?"

"Soon."

Lien blinked. "...you don't know?"

Toldar sighed. "No, soon."

"When?"

Toldar sighed, raising a hand to his forehead. "...Captain, please take this seriously."

Lien's jaw dropped. "...just tell me the gunner's name."

"Soon."

"No! Now!"

"The chief engineer? He always seemed like a solid lad, he could do for a new assignment I suppose."

"...why are you in engineering?"

"You mentioned-"

"Nevermind! What's the gunner?!"

"No, he's the co-pilot."

"I'm not asking you who's the co-pilot!"

"Who's the pilot."

"I don't know!"

"Sensors, captain. Why are we here now?"

Lien's look, by all rights, should have set Captain Toldar's hair on fire, who seemed oddly unconcerned by the whole matter. "...just... why?"

"Is something wrong with the doctor?"

"Leave the damn doctor out of this! I don't care!"

Toldar smiled sagely and nodded. "Ah, the captain. Solid lad."

Lien just stared at Toldar. "...what?"

"Co-"

Lien slammed his datapad down on the desk and pointed at the door.

Toldar smirked slightly and stood. "A pleasure speaking with you, Captain Orell," he said, departing.

Lien groaned, flicking on the datapad again and going over the Abstello's report again, trying to make heads or tails of it, pausing only when he received a message from Toldar himself.

"It's good to know that special forces haven't changed much in the last few years. Too bad you didn't last longer, cost me 25 credits in the pool."

On reflection, it was probably a good thing that his office didn't have a large window. The dent might take some explaining, though...
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #12 on: 03/03/15, 08:31:54 PM »
Originally posted 07/02/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=835.msg12681#msg12681

Chilly Gratitude

((Note: Shortly before this was a negotiation between Quarasha and the Erinian Council about additional Imperial Embassies on Erini, but where a power-hungry Erinian ambassador revealed publicly that Cordae and Shaantil were romantically involved.

The edited transcript of the event is visible here: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=461.msg21632#msg21632))




T7 rolled looked up at the door as Shaantil walked in. "...T7?" she asked, frowning to herself.

"T7 = found comlink frequency // Jedi = sure?"

"Hardly, my friend. But she is owed this much, regardless of her motivations. Perhaps she will continue to do good deeds if-"

"T7 = know speech // Jedi = be careful?"

Shaantil chuckled at the rebellious little droid. "Of course, and thank you." She looked down at her comlink as she walked out of the engine room, frowning again. Intellectually, she knew that the Sith had her own motives for the actions, likely to do with manipulating her beloved's home world, and possibly him as well... but a good deed is a good deed.



Quarasha was frowning at her datapad. The proposed headcounts the diplomatic corps had included for the Eresar Embassy were not promising in the least. So much work to be done, they said. Fertile ground for expansion, they said. An extra network engineer would just drag things down.

She pushed it aside. She needed a few more positions that would go unnoticed. Perhaps something in security, or transportation...

*BZZZZZZZ*

She frowned at her comlink. Honestly, if this is another damned reporter asking for an interview, I'll... zap them through the comm or something... "Who is this?" she asked, frustration overwhelming her attempt at a pleasant demeanor.

"Knight Shaantil of the Jedi Order."

Quarasha blinked. "...could you repeat that?"

"I believe you heard me, Lord Quarasha." Shaantil's own annoyance was clear in her tone, something which always earned a grin from the Sith.

"Well, well, well. I believe I did, I'm just not sure if I believe it." She pauses. "If Miller disappeared again-"

A deep sigh from the other end cut the Sith off. "No, Quarasha. I am calling to speak of your public words about mine and Cordae's relationship."

"Ah, you mean how you're polishing his Lightsaber?"

"Quarahsa."

"Cleaning his rifle?" Quarasha said, pulling her datapad to her, bringing up the holonet to a familiar page.

"Quarasha."

"Turning a Jedi Hand Trick? Using the Force? Undergoing deep meditation? Pulling-"

"Enough!" Shaantil interrupted, her voice briefly raised. "If you will not take this seriously, I will hang up."

Quarasha pouted at the comlink. "Awww, but the site had a few hundred more!"

"Quarasha."

"Fine, fine, what is it?"

A sigh came from the other end. "I would like to thank you. You are correct, my relationship with Cordae is not relevant to the Empire's dealings with Erini, and he is an honorable man capable of not allowing his judgement to be swayed by our relationship."

There was a long pause from Quarasha. In truth, her mind had only been on the diplomatic tactics of the situation, saving face and distancing herself from what anyone could tell was an unwarranted attack. If Cordae had acted in a way that could be considered prejudiced against the Sith... but no sense in knocking this back. Besides, it's not like she could stop dealing with Hutts, given Sasmi's job...

Quarasha sighed. "I'm a little surprised, Knight Shaantil. I was half expecting a speech filled with suspicion and mistrust as to my motives. But you are welcome regardless."

"Very well. I won't take up any more of your time, Quarasha."

The Sith chuckles slightly. "Do give Cordae my regards next time you're examining his regalia!" She grinned at Shaantil's groan as the comm signal cut out.
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #13 on: 03/03/15, 08:36:25 PM »
Originally posted 07/09/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=835.msg13076#msg13076

Friends of the Family

((Note: Recently before this, Seiyd hired on Kyri to be SmugCo's chief medical officer, partly a result of nepotism and also a result of spacers needing a good doctor... and so, its a new-to-the-galaxy Kyri meeting the crew for her ship that will fly it and keep her safe.

Sadly, Carth and Cora didn't really work out as NPC's. They made a few appearances, but generally were just a reason for why Kyri could be a part of SmugCo while having no piloting or combat experience. As Kyri grew more compentent (and badass), they became redundant, and have since vanished into the ether...))




"Doctor Orell?" came the voice from the main hold. It was a kind-sounding voice, but still one that filled Kyri's veins with ice. It's just yer crew, Ky, no need ta fret, jus' no differen' from tha folks in tha 'firmary... ya know, iffen ya 'ad a crew there... A few panic-y, deep breaths later and she stepped out into the hold, smiling at the two in front of her, trying to keep from waving like a little girl.

There was definitely a few differences, though. A gaunt, disinterested looking woman with a duffel bag hung from her shoulder, and a... scary looking rifle slung over her shoulder, and a taller, better built man, smiling gently.

The woman scoffed. "...you're kidding, you're the doc?"

Kyri nodded, swallowing a lump in her throat. "Ya- yeah, I am. Doctor Kyri Orell. Nice ta meetcha both."

The woman gave the man a look, then sighed. "...great, the babysitting patrol. Can't believe you talked me into this, Carth."

Carth grinned. "Hey, it won't be so bad, Cor." He turned to Kyri, walking over and extending a hand. "Sergeant Major Carth Hemdall, Retired, and that ray of sunshine over there is Pilot First Class Cora Wilsaam."

Cora lazily salutes. "Just call me Cor and him Carth and hold the wit, none of it's been funny. Ever."

Kyri nodded dumbly, shaking Carth's hand. "I'm guessin' you're the pilot, then?"

"How'd you guess?" Cora replied, smirking nastily. "And pretty-boy there's your nurse and bodyguard and if you ask really nicely he might even read you a bedtime story."

"Ease up, Cor," Carth said, turning to Kyri with another smile. "Don't worry, she's an ace pilot. She's got a few nice bones in her body, too."

"Liar."

Kyri smiled and nodded. "...well, Seiyd's payin' ya, so... I guess we're co-workers?"

Carth shrugged. "Well, Cor'll take you where you need to go, and I'm mostly here to keep you safe and help you with treatment, so you might as well be the boss."

She nods again, but looks back to Cor, frowning slightly. ...might as well ask now... "...so... why are you two... you know, retired?"

Cora shrugged. "Joined up when I got old enough, couple years before the Treaty. Got dull, figured there'd be better paying jobs outside the military, and never could stand the asshole officers."

Carth smirked at her. "You could never stand asshole superiors at all. Glad you behaved long enough to win over the boss." He looked back down at Kyri, either missing or ignoring Cora's gesture. "Hit a few bad missions here and there. Seemed my luck was bad enough as it was, so I didn't re-up when my time was up. Met your brother on one of those, actually."

Kyri's shoulders slumped. ...great, more time surrounded by folk gushin' over Li... "...no kiddin'. Bettin' you cannae tell which one?"

Cora snorted. "I know the one he's talkin' about. Met Lien there too, during the pickup, bit surprised he remembers me, though."

"Why's tha'?"

Carth shrugged slightly. "...well, pain meds can mess with your head, you know, and he was doped up pretty good given his condition."

Kyri blinked. "...you mean you're-"

He nods. "Yeah, that was one of the nastier fights I've seen. Your brother was the only one still in one piece besides me, if you don't count the eye. Cora and her wing picked up our escape craft once we got off the planetoid, managed to drag us back to friendly territory before the Imps could catch up."

She looked between the pair. "...yer sayin' that you two saved my brother."

Cora shrugged, but nodded, a slightly softer look in her eye. Carth nodded more firmly, though, adding, "I was just doing my job there, I know he'd have done the same for me." He gave the young doctor another winning smile. "Think we can work together?"

Kyri nods, smiling wide. "Definitely!"
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas

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Re: Tales of the Orell Legacy
« Reply #14 on: 03/03/15, 08:41:14 PM »
Originally posted 07/31/2013: http://begerencolony.org/forum/index.php?topic=835.msg14809#msg14809

Master and Mother

((Note: This was written after I decided to put Soldin's life on the line in an event down the line, and thus wanted to make it more clear that, yes, Soldin was Shaantil's mother, as well as being Shaantil's master. Not to mention making the bond between the two a bit less... chilly than it had been before.

Also happening before this, Shaantil had a bout of anger (and I can't, for the life of me, remember the reason), and nearly attacked Cordae. This also takes place some time after Shaantil actually did lose her temper and strike Jace, her previous boyfriend, cementing their split and creating a darkness in Shaantil that took some time for her to recover from.))




Soldin frowned at the ceiling when the ship's door chime sounded, standing up from her meditative stance. "Odd, none of my informants are scheduled to arrive. There are no packages expected. The locals know that this is a Jedi vessel and would not bother me with trifles, and other Jedi would simply use the comm... who would bother me in person?"

She called her Lightsaber to her hand, steeling herself for a fight. There was always the chance this was a Sith making a brazen attack to kill a Jedi Master... "C2, who is at the door?"

A few moments later, the protocol droid spoke up. "Jedi Knight Shaantil, Master. Would you like me to let her in?"

"Oh. That makes much more sense." She sighed, sending her Lightsaber back to its resting place. "Do so, C2, and then return to your alcove to recharge for two hours."

"Understood, Master Soldin. It is an honor to serve."

She was idly musing about how the Sith seemed a more appealing prospect when Shaantil entered the conference room, giving a careful bow to her former master and earning a soft chuckle. "Master," Shaantil said.

"There is no need to stand on cerimony here," she hesitated only a moment, "...Shaantil."

The Knight smiled with a certain measure of relief, sitting down opposite her former Master. "...thank you. Is it... acceptable for me to speak of... all topics?"

Soldin's smile froze briefly, and she nodded. "Of course, Sha- daughter. Please, speak freely."

Shaantil nodded, looking almost exactly as uncomfortable as Soldin. "I... nearly hurt Cordae."

Soldin frowned as her daughter described what happened. It didn't surprise Soldin in the details. The Prince doing something foolish, causing Shaantil to grow scared, and then angry when he ignored the danger, and finally leading to the potential for violence, a wild throw with the Force into a wall or something like it when he would not let her move away, stopped only because he finally did so.

She watched her daughter, her former padawan carefully as the tale was told. Clear remorse in her tones, she wouldn't be faking that, no sign of blame of Cordae for his part, which is good. And she didn't seem to be trying to excuse her instinct to harm her boyfriend, which would have been severely troubling after the incident with Jace and-

It was only until Shaantil finished her story did Soldin notice that... she was still looking at her like a troubled Padawan, not her daughter. "...too late now, push forward." Soldin nodded, putting on her best compassionate face. "...do not worry yourself, my child. You did nothing wrong."

Shaantil nodded, still staring at her lap. "...I know, but I nearly did."

"...yes, you did." Soldin sighed to herself, pausing to collect her thoughts, her gaze focused on the ashamed form of her stu- daughter. "You do not need me to tell you that. But you should remember that you were able to hold your anger in check, child. It is not an easy thing to do at times, but in the end it is what is most important."

Shaantil nodded slightly, earning another puzzled look from the Master. "...and you know that too, I sense. Why did you come here?"

Soldin realized the mistake in the words a moment too late, hurrying out "Not that you need a reason, of course."

Shaantil looked up at her Master, a soft smile crossing her face. "...of course. It is alright, Ma-Mother."

Soldin sighed again, slouching down in her chair. "...no, it is not alright, but that is my failing, not yours... and that was hardly better, was it?"

Her daughter let out a soft chuckle. "No, but I know what you meant, mother."

Soldin let out a wry chuckle of her own. "...wonderful, perhaps you could tell me later. But you did not come here simply to confide in me, Shaantil. What else is there?"

Shaantil looked down again, a slight blush rising on her cheeks. "...did you ever... have that urge with my father?"

A wry remark died in her throat, common sense arriving to the Master a few sentences too late, but a welcome arrival nonetheless. Shaantil rarely asked about Simon, despite the young woman's own search into her father's background. "...perhaps she does not wish to inflame any hurt? Or she feels it is improper to ask of him to another Jedi... or perhaps simple embarassment over my intimacy with anyone..."

Soldin cleared her throat, and shook her head. "...no, Shaantil. There were moments when I wanted to throttle him, yes, but only for his usual attitude."

"His usual attitude?"

Soldin chuckled softly at the memories. "His reputation as a womanizer was not without basis, although he did manage to settle down some once things grew... serious. Not that he would stop flirting with women that might be persuaded to help him..."

"Help him with...?" Shaantil was fighting a smirk, Soldin could tell from that tone.

"With his business, child. Please stay on topic?" At her daughter's chuckling, Soldin pushed on. "But, no, I did not reach the level of anger you did..."

Shaantil's mood fell to the deck, and once again Soldin realized, too late, the real question. "...do not credit me too much, child."

"But..."

Soldin sighed. "Yes, you need to learn to walk away. To be explicit about it, to state, emphatically, that you need to collect yourself. That anger will only build on itself, and you must be quicker in realizing it, and pulling yourself away from him if time allows... or even if it might not allow. That is without question, but it is something you can learn, and it is something that you seem to be learning quite well. You did tell him to let you go, after all."

"Then-"

"I had an advantage, however, with Simon. The simple fact is that Humans, and Erinians as well, do not understand the Force as well as Miraluka."

Shaantil stared at her mother for several seconds, speechless, before finally venturing to open her mouth. "...you do realize that sounds somewhat Speciest, mother."

Soldin sighed. "Very well, average, no Jedi or Sith training, no special insight, etcetera, etcetera, but do try to understand what I mean?"

"What do you mean?"

"We Miraluka see through the Force. We are impacted by its knowledge every moment of every day, even ones that never enter a Temple or pick up a Lightsaber. It, and the presence and threat of the Dark Side, are a basic fact of our existence."

"...you are saying that he could sense when you were getting angry with him?"

Soldin smirked. "One did not need the Force to sense that."

Shaantil returned a weak smirk of her own."Of course. I remember how you could yell at people."

"Quite. But he understood the risk better, understood what the anger would lead to. He knew to walk away once he saw the Dark Side grow around me, that when I raised my voice he should take a calmer tone... no doubt a talent he had learned from more than a few run-ins with law enforcement..."

Shaantil giggled at the last. "I know, I saw a transcript of your first encounter with him."

Soldin winced, but let out a soft laugh of her own. "Force, I doubt I will ever forget that. I was the laughing stock of the entire station for that, and it didn't let up until after I had finally left that planet behind."

"They had never seen someone flirt with a Jedi before?"

Soldin shook her head, letting out another laugh. "Oh, they had seen that. What they hadn't seen was a Jedi Knight stumbling out of an interrogation room with bright red cheeks, stammering to the warden. I swear, if I had my way there would be a course in the Temple called 'Getting flirted at by handsome spacers'."

"That certainly would have been useful for me!" Shaantil said with a laugh.

"Oh, it would save us countless problems! The only problem is that the damn class would get too popular!"

The pair laughed again, relaxing into their chairs. It was a few moments before Soldin, smiling at her daughter, spoke again. "...but, regardless, you may need to lean on Cordae here, Shaantil. Help him to understand this. And work on your own self control, of course. I cannot stress how important that is."

"I know, mother." Shaantil said, sighing and looking at her datapad. "...I should go."

Soldin nodded sadly. "...I understand, I am not-"

"No!" Shaantil blurted out. "No, it has nothing to do with you. I need to travel to Erini to meet with Cordae..."

"...and you wished a convenient excuse to leave suddenly, in case things went poorly?" Soldin asked, smiling politely as Shaantil looked away.

"There... may be some truth to that."

"I understand, my child. Go ahead," Soldin says as she stands, smiling politely, although not earnestly.

Shaantil nods herself, standing and moving towards the door, but stopping just before leaving. "...would you mind if we spoke again, soon? About Si- ...about my father?"

"...nothing would please me more, Shaantil," she replied, joy filling her heart as her daughter left.
Character List:

Pub side: Lien Orell, Kyri Orell, Shaantil (possibly Dumas), Norland, Everen (bank alt ATM), Quarashaa (Pub version of the real Quarasha), Merrant

Imp Side: Quarasha, Effet Ornell, Arazel, Zedney, Zhel, Asori-Alnas