A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[CSP] Run On for Funsies


No real rules, save for Wil Wheaton’s: “Don’t be a dick”. This is a fun run on with the hopes to encourage more run on activity within the clan, and to just enjoy each others’ writing capabilities while stretching our own. Minimum of 250 words.

The Scene: Sith-Faced Joe’s, Ohmen, Judecca.


Alara sat at the bar, and chugged down another glass of rum. It was one of those days where she needed a drink. her day as Sergeant for Tacitus Athanasius had been a busy one. She knew deep down in her heart that she enjoyed her work; she enjoyed the thrill and hunt of her battle team’s foes. However today was spared from that. It was mostly stacks of paperwork to inform the Battle team Leader and Quaestor of missions and their progress. Tiredness and slight aggravation that once burned in her stomach began to cool thanks to her drink, though it wasn’t enough. She needed a good laugh. The rum helped, but where was some fun? She tried to think back on her last moments of enjoyment, but they were no where to be found within the archives of her memory.

What on Judecca is going on inside my head. I require fun now? I require some sort of companionship?

She scoffed at the thought. Perhaps she could go for a quick flight with Forren? The half Sephi checked her watch. Alas, he was probably taking his nap as he does at this time of day. Her silly Ruping was a great friend to her, but she felt as though their schedules clashed rather consistently. The thought of Forren scheduling in a flight with her in a notebook as he sat behind a desk gave Alara a chuckle.

Well, Alara, let’s just see who may walk into the bar tonight. We have time to spare for now.

With a sigh, Alara grabbed another glass of rum from the bar-lass, and sat down in a booth next to a small window. The City seemed to roar slightly with a thunder storm. She watched half-heartedly as the rain from the window trickled to the ground. Good thing she didn’t try to wake Forren for a flight. In the evening’s darkness, the Knight thought she saw a dark figure coming towards the door.


Lexiconus hurried across the alley and towards the cantina door, his robe and hood protecting him from the worst of the heavy rain, but not the wind. His brown cloak whipped and flowed chaotically, as the Quarren commanded the door to open with his hand. Hissing and retreating into its den, the door disappeared and Lexiconus stumbled inside, bringing the ice cold rain with him. The thick smoke of tobacco and other intoxicating scents burst outside, along with the hot air and music. It was a soft and slow trance beat, aimed to soothe and relax the patrons, and it worked wonders on Lexiconus.

He walked through the cantina, his soggy and damp robe dripping all kinds, and nodded to the bar-lass. She was a cheery Falleen, her forest green complexion lit up when she smiled and winked at the Quarren. Her worker’s hands polished the table, her off-hand picking up empty glasses along the way. Lexiconus felt a sense of joy and love from her, it was an easy sensation to let in. They both approached the bar from opposite ends and she was the first to speak.

“Hi there, welcome to Sith-face Joe’s! What’s your poison?” Her accent was bubbly and cheery, a sign of her young age. This was probably her first job. With a heavy sigh, the Quarren flicked his hand at the rum selection, he wasn’t concerned about the brand. He didn’t care. With a flick of her dark hair, the Falleen twisted on her high heels and brought a full bottle with a glass to the front bar. Lexiconus licked his dry lips and decided to lower the temperature of his drink beforehand, summoning the bucket to slide across and meet his open hand. Two rocks should do it, with a clink they bounced and settled into the short glass. He picked up the bottle and glass then turned to leave, but the bar-lass coughed to bring his attention back to her. With her hands on the nearby till, it seemed to Lexiconus that she wanted payment before taking the products. It was going to be a long night for the Quarren, who simply sighed with contempt.

“Just open a tab for me.” He said with the minimum effort he could.At first, the Falleen didn’t quite catch it, but all she needed to hear was tab and the instructions from Joe was what she followed.

“Alright sir, what should I name it under?” A name usually meant people would see who was drinking tonight, who was in a vulnerable state or spending their credits. It is something the Quarren didn’t want to deal with tonight, a false name will do.

“Just put it under Doctor.” Then left to a corner booth, nestled in the darkness and broken lights. Shuffling himself onto the immovable bench and right into the corner, Lexiconus poured the glass to the near-rim. The rocks of ice slowly bobbed and twirled without interruption, a peaceful scene for the Quarren to focus on for a moment. Balancing his elbow on the table, he slowly started to spin his finger clockwise, which slowly controlled the ice to also spin clockwise. With a heavy and exhausting sigh, Lexiconus declared this day over.

Oh, what have I done?

The Quarren tilted his head forward and pushed the damp hood off, and inhaled the smoky scents from around him. His scanning stopped at the sight of Alara Deathbane, a half-Sephi on the Tacitus Athanasius assassin squad, and an infamous member for her techniques. A lot of corpses the emergency services brought to the morgue were from her and her company, but that wasn’t the reason he was winding down tonight. Any Force Sensitive could feel the emotions of anger, fear and depression falling from him. As if he broke a promise, as if he failed in a duty. Just exactly as if he didn’t do his job.

No, stop. Get out of my head. Get. Out, please stop.

His free hand smacking against his forehead as his eyes were clenched tightly. His face shriveled up, he didn’t want this memory to stay. Vivid flashes of red on white, the sounds of screaming, wailing and intense chatter echoed through his mind. The droning sound of metal ringing, shaking its limbs and frame. It came to him as clear as it were in front of him. On this very table. A screaming woman, wrapped in a bloodied night gown. It used to innocent and white, but now stained with her own blood and clawed by her nails. His own overalls drenched with the same colour, a reminder of his choice of life. His mind continued with the story, his hands working sorcery, stitching and patching her open wounds. But his mind censored something else. There was a portion of this whole ordeal, a key factor in the procedure seemed to be missing from his memory, the essential catalyst on why he and his colleagues were covered in so much blood. Then he remembered the smell. The foul, rotten, and rich smell.

There was a babe. I had to save the babe.

His free hand wiped down his face, the Quarren still felt the trickling of blood down his cheeks and forehead. But it wasn’t blood. Only his sweat and tears, reminding him of the harsh realities his job lay on him. They poured from his sapphire eyes, as he continued to scan the intense and disturbing images his mind fed. Alara looked over at the Quarren and furrowed her neat brow, the dark side poured from him in this vulnerable moment. She felt fear, regret, failure, worry and dismay. And yet he appeared calm and reserved.

An infant, that’s all he had saved, a small, crying, pale infant Human. Fresh from the womb. It was already birthed from the mother through cesarean, but the worry was far from over. His gaze was forced to turn inside the memory and towards an adjacent bed, and the familiar rickety sound of the metallic frame rang again.

He’s having a seizure, just restrain him until he’s done!

A lithe yet tall Zabrak lay on the covers, his limbs straight and vibrating madly, while his head tilted back as far as he could. The whites of his eyes riddled with veins and tears. There was pain. That is all Lexiconus could feel from this boy, just pain. A quick read from the report told the Quarren that these two were in a traffic collision that tumbled down into the mountain, destroying their vehicle and giving him a concussion. With lack of blood circulating to his head, it told Lexiconus that the boy was struggling to survive in this ordeal. With his violent and wild movements shaking the bed and bouncing his body, the Quarren’s sharp hearing picked up a sharp click sound. Then the boy dropped still and silent. Lifeless. The mother then began her wailing and crying of pain, her vocal cords destroyed and yet she continued to call for her partner to return. Oh, how Lexiconus was able to remember every single detail.

The clinking and chiming of the glass brought him back to reality, and the Quaestor saw in front of him the chaos he was causing. The glass levitated into the air as all the rum drenched the table and the opposite bench, while the ice cubes spun at a blurring rate. Lexiconus quickly snatched the glass back and cleaned the table with his cape. Filling the glass back up, he took a small sip and rubbed his dry forehead.

“I have got to find a way to control these visions. This is madness.” He mumbled in his native tongue. It had indeed been a hard day.


Mew Doja stood outside in the rain, his robe soaked and not a dry spot on him. He enjoyed the rain while most others didn’t. He leaned back against the wall of the cantina keeping his eyes on the street. He wasn’t sure if anyone was going to be showing up tonight. The last few nights had been unfruitful. He drowned out the sounds of the cantina with his own thoughts. He wondered how everything was going back on Naboo. He wondered how long he would be alone. His crazy little mind went on and on.

Suddenly something inside the cantina snapped him back to reality and he went back to looking around. He watched as people of all different races moved up and down the street. He was amazed on how many different people were here. His time back on Naboo he remembered there wasn’t many different races where he was living. In fact there wasn’t many at all. as he watched people move he kept his eyes out for their targets. Their targets were part of a pirate group that had been harassing the planet for a while now. They were going to be a little less of a problem once they showed up that is.

Mew was watching the street when he heard something going on inside the cantina. He reached out with the force to listen to what was going on. He chuckled and went back to watching the street when nothing involving him was going on. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a frog as he grew slightly hungry. As he ate the frog he looked around and was surprised at what he saw. Their targets were arriving in town on their speeders. Mew grinned.
“Lord Lexiconus, Madam Deathbane. Mesa see da targets.” He said in a low, almost monotonic way. “Daysa on dowopee, daysa are movan close. Shall Mesa engage?”


Jorm split from the group of bikers and set his speederbike down in front of Sith-Faced Joe’s. Sure enough, he spotted the cloaked, not quite humanoid figure with the comlink. Newbies…

His muscles ached from a long day climbing, and his relaxing bath had been cut short when he had been tipped off about Imperium’s freshest recruit growing too eager. A few more calls while he dressed in haste revealed the boy’s boss to be in the area too. Two minutes later, he was on his way and linked up with the bikers - one of Ohmen’s inofficially sanctioned gangs.

Now he jumped off his saddle and walked up to and into the younger Gungans face, while the gang went on what was half jokingly called a ‘Shakedown Cruise.’ The boy turned to face him while his hand slid under his ragged, soaked cloak.

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re doing it wrong,” Jorm preempted any challenges.
“If you’re here to drink,” he pointed at the bar, “you have to go inside. They don’t serve the the curb. But if you’re here about them…” he inclined his head towards the gang in the smallest fraction and dropped his voice to a near inaudible level, letting his incessant easy smile grow a bit, “you’re in for a world of hurt, Proselyte. So why don’t we go inside and you ask your boss about the mistake you just almost made?”

Slightly bending fingers at his side were the only indication of the light pressure he put around Mew Doja’s throat through tendrils unseen. Not more than a nudge, a friendly warning, and his way to tell the boy that he was not just dealing with a Clansmember - dropping the rank had done that - but also a Force user. Luckily, Mew was neither stupid or stubborn enough to put Jorm’s thinned patience to the test.

The inside of the bar was for once actually brighter than the streets outside, a testament to just how bad the weather was. Still, the smell of smoke, booze and more exotic intoxicants made the place recognizable. Jorm flicked his head, slinging drops of water from his braids. Once he spotted Lexiconus Qor, he put a hand on Doja’s back and guided him over to the Quaestor’s table with gentle, yet firm pressure.

Lexic looked exhausted, his table moist, watery ice cubes on the opposite bench. Jorm met and held his hard gaze as he shoved the Gungan into the melting mess. There was no need for words between them. He left the water enthusiasts to themselves and approached the bar, which was crewed by a cheery young Falleen he did not know.

“Hello, welcome to Sith-Faced Joe’s! What can I get you?” She smiled and seemed genuinely eager to please. Jorm dug out a 50-C-bill and put it on the counter. “Bowl of cheese bits,” he requested as he bent over the bar and grabbed an out-of-sight bottle filled with an opaque, illuminating green liquid and a glass, "and keep the change."
Surprise and joy mixed in her expression in face of his familiarity with the inventory and his generosity. “At once! Make yourself comfortable, I’ll bring them over.”

As she went to work, he threw a glance back at Lex and Mew, then looked around the room. It was a quiet night for sure. He did, however, spot a familiar golden braid and a face he knew in one of the few window booths. A moment of consideration later he decided he had nothing to lose, and brought his stuff over to her.

“Evening, 'lara,” he said by way of greeting, “mind if I join you? Drinking alone is no habit I try to cultivate.”
“Hey Jorm, long time no see. Almost since Mygeeto, right?” Alara inquired when he sat down glass and bottle.
“Yeah, around that. What’s cracking?” Peeling himself out of his wet leather jacket, Jorm dropped onto the empty bench.


“Well…drinking.” Alara smiled half-heartedly and lifted her glass to him. “It’s been a long run. Lots of thinking going on in this brain of mine.”

“Oooo… That sounds dangerous, 'Lara. I definitely better stick around then.” Jorm poured himself a glass out of the bottle before him.

“I guess so, eh?” The corner of her mouth slightly rose and fell. “Looks like Lex isn’t having that great of a day either… Making quite a mess for the barmaid to clean.” The Knight nodded over towards the chaos coming from the other side of the room.

“Shall we run to his aid, Lass?” Jorm spectated.

“I don’t see why not.” Alara took a quick swig of her drink and left it back on the table, nodding to a nearby barmaid. The barmaid scampered off to retrieve more rum. Jorm took a swig as well, and headed towards the commotion.

“Ey Lex. You doing okay?” Alara sat on a barstool to the left of Lexiconus, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Quite the mess you got here,” Jorm observed, sitting next to Lexiconus from the right.

“Aye. It’s been too much of a day for me, I’m afraid.” Lexiconus looked down at his drink, shifting his hands around his glass.

“Well, I think I can confidently say you’ve been there for me. Spit it out. What’s eatin ya?” Alara looked at him with concern.

“Waitttt… hold it. Alara looks almost concerned. By the stars something must be in the moon tonight.” Lex joked and smiled at his friends around him. His face suddenly grew serious again, and he peered down at his drink. “Been dealing with some images from the past. They keep spooking me at the oddest of moments.”

Alara’s face grew slightly more solemn. “Do tell.”


The three crammed around Lexiconus, wondering what tale he would tell. As the Quarren took a deep breath in, he was interrupted by the doors of the cantina flying open.


The small group peered out of the booth to see what had caused the ruckus. A familiar white haired individual walked into the building out of the rain. It was Kylex, just recently promoted to Hunter. As he took an overcoat off and placed it on a patron, he looked over and noticed the group of Palatinae’s staring at him.

“Hey Alara, how’s it going?” Kylex said, ducking behind another patron and taking his drink without him noticing.

“Uhh… Hi Kylex, Lex was about to tell us a story if you want to join us.” She said, moving over in the booth to make a space for the Hunter.

“A tale? How exciting, is it a story of your great adventures…” Kylex trailed off as he stared at the Gungan sitting next to Lexiconus. “Who… Are you?”
The young Gungan looked surprised, his yellow eyes looked Kylex up and down.
“Meesa named Mew, Isa pleasure to finally meet yousa.” Mew said, apparently over enthusiastically.

Kylex just stared at Mew dumbly, his head tilted to one side as he cocked an eyebrow. As he continued to stare, the waitress passed him with Jorm’s cheese bits.

“Here you are Sir, your cheese bits.” She said with a sweet smile before turning to look at Kylex. “Is… Is he going to be ok?”

“Don’t worry, he is fine, I don’t think he has met a Gungan before.” Said Alara.

“No, I have not.” Kylex said. Seemingly snapping out of his trance, he offered his hand to Mew, who reluctantly shook it. The Hunter sat down, leaning in to hear what the Quarren had to say.


“…So then I dug my hand in, yanked out the placenta and the umbilical cord just snapped with it, disaster averted!” Lexiconus said with a smile, sipping his shot of rum. From the looks of the crowd, his listeners did not seem impressed at all.

Mew the young Gungan sat with a very pale expression, trying to swallow but didn’t have the nerve for it. Alara fidgeted in her seat, her fingers circling the ends of her braided hair as her eyes darted around, staring anywhere but the Quarren’s eyes. She felt very apologetic about her gender’s issues. Whereas both Jorm and Kylex were clapping loudly as Jorm whistled, they both seemed excited at the tale, as if an audience waiting for an encore. Slowly coming back to reality, Lexiconus now saw that maybe his story of his day was not for the weak stomached.

“That was so great and awesome to listen to, Lexiconus! Just…just excuse me for a second.” Kylex said, making some heavy pants. He then slowly turned to the bar, approached the front and beckoned the Falleen barmaid forward.

“Yes sir, how may I help you?” She said with her usual cheery tone, trying not to draw too much attention to Kylex’s pale complexion.

“May I borrow your ice bucket for just a second?” The Hunter requested. She brought the bucket over to him and left the lid at the bucket’s original place. Taking the container into his weak arms, Kylex’s mouth began to open and what could only be described as an orange waterfall fell from his mouth. He heaved and panted into the bucket and groaned to himself.

“Thank you, missy,” The Hunter said as he took a breath, then the heaving continued. Jorm turned back from watching Kylex, then picked up and tossed back some cheese bits.

“So squid, I hate to point this out but this young Gungan was about to put his hands into a sticky situation.” The Kiffar said as he tugged his stool closer. He nodded to the young Proselyte, giving him the chance to explain himself, as the Gungan fidgeted with his fingers and looked around.

“Eh, mesa was justa doings a scouts-out. Mesa founds da bombad pirates outside, scooping yousa out, sir.” He said nervously. Being a new member of the Clan, he didn’t understand how the underworld worked, this was a good time for the Quaestor to teach another. Lexiconus slowly looked at Jorm and Alara, who both raised an eyebrow in curiosity, then turned to face the Gungan. The Quaestor put his arm around Mew’s shoulder, pulling him close and sighed.

“Listen, friend, these pirates are not how they seem.” He whispered very softly, only audible to Alara and Jorm at best.

“You see, Excidium are a crime syndicate, in charge of making profits from bad deeds such as piracy, assassinations, thefts, fraud and other miscellaneous activity. The point is, these pirates are under the Clan’s control through Excidium and are probably here to watch out for us. Unless they’re new to the system and are out to start causing trouble. But this group are sanctioned into the secret.” Lexiconus concluded, his last sentence was more directed towards Alara and Jorm, a simple nod from the Kiffar told Lexiconus the gang outside were controlled.

“Well, then you better find out now, before Blade does. She doesn’t accept excuses for lack of information.” The Quaestor said with concern. He tapped the Gungan on the shoulder and smiled to him, trying to reassure the young member. This was afterall a lively and comfortable abode, and such disturbances would not be permitted by Sith-faced Joe. Kylex finally trotted over, his face pale and ghostly, as he wiped his mouth clean with tissue, and supported his balance by leaning on the back of the booth bench.

“So, what are we talking about?” He mumbled out, burping accidently in Mew’s face. The stench of bile wafted over the Gungan and Lexiconus. Not the nicest scent.


Shadow Nighthunter had been watching patrons of the Sith-Faced Joe’s go and come from her perch on the roof of a neighboring building. The rain battered her hood with drops sliding off the edge and unto her nose. In her arms, she held her little loth-wolf cub, Tsume, who was enjoying the warmth of her chest as well as the shelter she provided.

Eventually, Shadow jumped down from her perch and went into the cantina with her head bowed. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Alara and the others chatting about. The half-Sephi made her way to a booth far away from everyone else, and took her seat as the barmaid came to tend to her.

“Now, it’s been quite sometime since I last saw you,” the Falleen said, already knowing who it was underneath the hood. “Even at the old place where I used to work, you were missed.”

The half-Sephi smiled slightly as she removed her hood. She gazed up at the barmaid with her golden eyes. “That it has been, indeed. I’ve been pretty busy and distracted. Least I’m lucky to find a familiar face here.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back. I’m guessing the usual rum?”

Shadow shook her head. “No, not today. Still carry any hot chocolate?”

“After you requested it those last few times, I’ve made sure to keep it in stock.”

The Falleen went off to prepare Shadow’s order as the half-Sephi sighed and looked down at the annoyed cub in her arms. “I’ll put you down, but you stay with me. I don’t need you getting stepped on.”

Tsume yipped and growled playfully as his amber eyes only revealed mischief. Shadow chuckled and placed him on the floor along with his rope toy to keep him occupied. The cute furball always warmed the Sith’s cold heart.

“Hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream for you, deary,” chimed the Falleen’s voice as she came and set the mug oof delicious warmth on the table. “Anything else for you?”

“No, thank you. This is perfect.” Shadow took the mug in her hand and took a sip, feeling the warmth barely scorch her tongue and throat. “Mmm. You never cease to amaze me.”

The barmaid blushed from the remark. “Well, I try. Enjoy!”

The woman went to tend to the other patrons as Shadow took a few more sips of her hot chocolate. She then leaned back against the booth and closed her eyes, her hand instinctively laid across her stomach out of protection for the small life within. A rainy day in the cantina with hot chocolate was just perfect.


Zehsaa was riding her speeder through the jungle, back towards Ohmen and the Sith-Faced Joe’s. The rain had turned her hunt into a wet parade and, mud was sticking everywhere now.

She sighed. It had started out as a good hunt, she had found a few tracks to follow, but as she had gotten closer to her mark the weather turned sour and it started to rain… and a lot too. Though she didn’t mind the rain that much, it made tracking animals difficult. She had been able to shoot a deer like creature and gutted it before bringing it along, stored in a container. Chuckling to herself she was happy to get some fresh meat.

The rain only got worse as she got closer to the Sith-Faced Joe’s. She parked her speeder next to the bike she recognized as Jorm’s. Looking up towards the Joe’s façade she felt more Force users in there.
Seems to be club night today
As she steps inside she got greeted by the warmth of the room, the smells wafting around her.
Just like home…
Walking towards the bar, she left a trail of water behind her. The Falleen behind the bar looked up towards her.
“Seems the weather got only worse outside,” she said by way of greeting.
Zehsaa nodded slightly. “Got anything to warm me up?”
“Sure!” she answered and went to get something to drink for her.
“Hey Z! Lex is having story night today!” Jorm called over, “Join the fun.”
The Falleen placed a drink for her on the bar and smiled. “That should warm you right up.”
“Thanks,” Zehsaa said as she picked it up and walked over towards the table, drawing another chair close to it.
“So story night? The weather is right for it,” she said with a chuckle, “What story are you telling, Lex?”


Jorm reached over his former apprentices’ shoulder and scrounged up the last handful of cheese bits, but found them only increasing his appetite. When Lex took a sip of his water and began to speak, the Kiffar decided to step away for a moment.

No need to hear the same story twice.

He stretched upwards - he was actually tall enough to reach the ceiling in here - to limber his tired muscles, then he strolled over to the counter again.

“How can I help you, sir?” The Falleen girl chimed up.

“Did Joe teach you how to make his Armlongs yet?” Jorm asked.

“No kidding. He didn’t even begin with the drinks before I had them down,” she replied, rolling her eyes.

“Perfect. Chese and ham, double.”

She confirmed his order and went to work. Jorm decided to get some fresh water into his face and visited the lavatories. Upon his refreshed return, he spotted a dark figure in an isolated booth.

Wait. Those proportions…?

Without long thinking, he reached out through the Force and brushed his mental, grabbing fingers against the visitor’s hood. In return, he saw a glint of golden eyes and felt a sudden and unnatural wave of ice crawling up his back.

Yupp, it’s her.

He abandoned his focus and just smiled and waved at Shadow, inviting her back to the Clan’s table. She just answered with a noncommital gesture. Jorm didn’t push for once.

With perfect timing, the barmaid set a large plate on the counter, perched upon it his Armlongs - forearm-long baguettes thickly sandwiched with cheese and ham.

“Thanks!” Jorm said and left her another credit bill, taking the plate back to the group.

He found Lex still rambling and his seat occupied by Alara’s boots. She grinned impishly, but let him sit after a quick glance towards his plate. As Jorm picked up his first baguette and dug in, he caught her hand sneaking up on his plate. Sensing his food in danger, he secured his first baguette with his right and slammed his tattooed left down, burying Alara’s slender white hand under his bronze-and-colored paw.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, missy? Has nobody ever taught you not to go after a hungry man’s food?”

“Sorry, not sorry. It just looks too tasty,” Alara replied without remorse.

She tried to sneak her hand further towards his plate despite his pressing down. Jorm considered her from the side. On the one hand, she was going for his food and therefor deserved death, but on the other, he did like the eyes she shared with her sister, and felt they looked better framed in blonde. A dozen voices forming spontaneously in his head, voted seven to four against the execution - with the last one snoozing and snoring - and dissolved again.

“Fine. Half of one. But only because I like your eyes.” Jorm finally said, releasing her hand.

Alara gave a little yelp and broke the remaining baguette in two. Jorm couldn’t help but notice that she picked the larger of the grossly uneven halves.

Good girl.


Alara munched on her baguette, not worrying about the crumbs that lined her smile. The warmth and softness of the bread complimented the crunch of the baked outer texture.

“Whaddya mean you like my eyes? They’re not as pretty as Kylex’s.” the half Sephi teased.

“Well a big and mighty fine thank you, 'Lara,” Kylex chuckled, chugging back his liquor. Alara nodded, continuing to chew away on her bread.

“Well, they shine a brilliant yellow. Looks well with your locks.” Jorm spoke honestly, popping cheese into his mouth.

Alara’s cheeks felt suddenly rather hot. She gave Jorm a swift nudge with her elbow, and soothed the heat with a swig of her rum. As she placed her glass back on the table.

“Speaking of your sissy,” Jorm spoke between his laughter, “Why is she across the way looking rather ominously in our direction?”

“Well, she still hasn’t forgiven me for what I did to her precious Mommy and Daddy.” Alara sighed. She crossed her leg in a huff, and tapped the ridge of her glass to fetch a nearby maid.

“Aren’t they yours too? Also how many of those have you had?” Jorm kept his questions coming.

“You’re rather inquisitive today, Jorm.” Alara peered at him through her peripherals. “I murdered them a couple weeks back.”

With this new-found knowledge, Kylex and Lexiconus both jumped a little in their seats, unsure of what to think of the predicament, Jorm seemed unphased, however, and did nothing but take a swig of his drink before asking another question: “Why?”

“Simple question, simple answer. They hated both Shadow and I. Even if my dear younger sister cannot see it. They threw me out when I was 3 to mercenaries because they couldn’t pay a debt. They treated my sister like she was the world, but she never knew I existed until I came here to the Brotherhood. Since they discovered we met eachother, they did nothing but try to pull us apart. Perhaps even in death they have succeeded.”

“So, here you are…sob stories, rum, and all.” Jorm observed, his eyes peering in what seemed to be concern.

“I’m over it. Shadow isn’t.”

“Aye. That’s where the sob story comes in.” the Sith spoke plainly.


Blade laid curled up in a ball under a pile of blankets in a locked back room of Sith-faced Joe’s. The gentle rise and fall of the soft warm covers was the only indication that someone sentient was hidden within them. Large inventory crates stacked high to the ceiling blocked her completely from view, save for small pathway left for her use. The room was pretty small but the Excidium Quaestor had managed to convince the owner to let her borrow it from time to time. It helped during late night stakeouts to have a place to crash for naps.


The Zeltron groaned at the noise, stirring slightly as she readjusted herself for comfort. The door creaked open and with it came the loud voices from the bar. She thought she even heard a gungan. She tried covering her ears but that didn’t work.

Grrrrrrr. “Fine. I’ll wake up.”

She unfolded herself into a sitting position, rubbing her face and yawning. An empty bottle clanged as she kicked it idly with her foot. After she had regained some semblance of composure, the Warrior got up and checked a mirror she had stuck on the wall not too long ago. Her hair still looked just fine.

Thank the Force for short hair…

Regardless, she quickly ruffled up her hair before combing it back to normal. Blade checked over her attire, double checked her possessions, and then made to leave. She had only been napping for a few hours and now she wanted a drink. She double checked her clothing one last time, brushed herself down and then exited out a side door leading to bar. Locking the door securely behind her, she walked to her favorite falleen and ordered the usual.

“Here you go. Don’t drink it all at once.” The Falleen reminded her.

“I promise to behave myself.” Blade answered with a chuckle as she deposited some credits on the counter.

Bottle of Rancor Tequila in hand, the Zeltron looked around at the occupants tonight. A group of Palatinaeans were clustered around a table while Shadow sat alone by herself.

Let’s see if we can’t get you more involved.

Blade took the seat opposite Shadow, setting her bottle to the side and ignoring the Battle Team Leader’s attempt to evade discussion.

“Welcome back, Shadow! How was the hunting?”


Shadow’s golden eyes flashed as she looked up at her Zeltron Quaestor and managed a slight smile. “The hunting grounds have proven to be rich with the blood of prey as always,” she answered. “How are your duties going, my Quaestor?”

“They’re keeping me pretty busy,” Blade answered. “Makes me appreciate times like this where I can get away from it all.”

“I guess I can say the same.” Shadow took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed contently. She felt Tsume pounce on her boot beneath the table, causing the Sith to nearly chuckle. “Even I need a break from bloodshed now and then. A nice walk in the woods or a cup of cocoa on a rainy day reminds me there is more to life than just killing. It’s good to just stop and appreciate the little things we have in life. It’s something every Sith ought to do.”

She noticed Blade look at her a bit surprised. The Battlemaster looked down, realizing she had been a bit too open than she should’ve been. She shrugged like she hadn’t said anything, and looked over at the others. She caught Jorm cast a glance at her now and then. She caught Alara’s eye at one point, but chose to ignore her. What’s done is done. Her fight with Alara had helped her to move on from the death of their parents. She missed them, but she knew she had to be strong. Her father had taught her to be.

A small yip and Blade’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts as she found Blade holding Tsume in her arms. “I see you discovered my little friend.”

“He’s a Loth wolf right?” the Quaestor asked. “He’s quite the pup. What’s his name?”

“Tsume. I call him Tsume.”

“He’s pretty cute and fuzzy.” Blade looked up at Shadow with a smile. “Where’d you get him?”

“He…he was a gift from my late mother,” the Sith answered hesitantly. “He’s basically all I have left of my parents besides my sister.”

Blade nodded with understanding as she let Tsume nom her finger. Shadow looked towards the others again and sighed. The thought of going home came to mind. Just the thought of having s’mores with her husband by the fireplace made her feel warm and more relaxed. Moments like those were ones she always looked forward to at the end of the day. They were moments where she wasn’t a lone killer, but a loving wife with someone else returning her love.

Something Alara will never understand until she allows herself to.

Shadow looked at her Quaestor again, studying the woman. She respected her superior both in combat and as a leader. She knew Blade was sly as well, and kept her guard up so as not to slip again. Even she couldn’t fully trust her. At least, not yet.


Blade blocked out the rest of the world around her and focused on Tsume. The loth wolf squirmed in her arms until she let it sit on her lap. It stared at her curiously as the Zeltron held out a hand. The cautious pup gave it a few exploratory sniffs and then proceeded to lick her hand obsessively. The Warrior chuckled to herself and moved her hand to scratch behind his ears, causing Tsume’s eyes to glaze over as he leaned against her.

“Be careful. He might not let you stop.” Shadow warned as she let out a small chuckle.

The Zeltron Quastor merely shrugged and took a sip of her Rancor Tequila.

“Then why is he so soft?!” Blade joked.

“Defense mechanism.” Shadow smiled ever so slightly as her dear loth wolf stuck his tongue out absentmindedly.

The Zeltron Quaestor hadn’t felt this at ease for a while. It was a nice change of pace to relish in the pleasure of something so innocent. It reminded her of when she secretly watched her daughter Zoe play. She smiled contently as she did her best to coax Tsume to lay down, fighting off loth wolf kisses and the young charge’s urge to jump towards her face. Shadow intervened and ended the struggle in short order.

“Platz!” The Marauder ordered. Tsume’s head snapped to his master’s and stared for a moment before promptly curling into a ball on Blade’s lap. The loth wolf’s eyes stared into Shadow’s golden eyes for a moment before it rested its head the Zeltron’s leg, guiltily looking away.

“Impressive. You are a good trainer.”

“Thank you. He can be a handful but he’s worth it.”

After a few awkward silences, idle conversation, and the absentminded petting of Tsume, the conversation took a more serious turn.

“So tell me about you and your sister, Alara. Why sit here all by yourself?” The Arcanist asked, wondering if the Battleteam Leader knew that Tsume was giving her a lot more than just loth wolf kisses.


------------------------------------------------ 2017 ---------------------------------------------------------
OOC: A few things have changed via character development since last we have been active here, so we shall start anew thread with similar themes and situations to that of last.

Back to the Run on:

Since the freeing of their beloved Emperor, Scholae Palatinae had changed quite a bit. Everyone reacted to their companions differently, as if more cautious about losing their sisters and brothers. Even the Houses began to speak more kindly to each other. Every single clan mate had lost something. Whether it was their pride, their self respect, a family member, a fellow worker, or even prized possessions or limbs; the group would never be the same. However, one thing that stayed with them was their carrying on.

Alara laughed heartily with her companions around the table. Lexiconus had just practiced his storytelling by telling a comedic story about his childhood that involved coming across humans for the first time.

“And that was how the name Squiddles came about! A 3 year old human baby could not understand how I could be Quarren and not ‘Squiddle’.” Lexiconus grinned.

“Well then, Squiddle, how’s about a round of shots?” Kylex challenged.

“Oh you’re so on.” the Quarren replied. Grinning mischeviously, Kylex gave a whistle and called a nearby barmaid to the group’s seating.

“The Squiddle here and I shall take a round of shots please! Your favorite flavors only.” Kylex winked at the barmaid. The local Zeltron giggled and nodded. “Anything else for the rest of you twats?” Kylex looked around.

“Well, I do believe that Alara needs another drink. Could I tempt you in another rum beautiful?” Jorm turned to the Mystic.

“Oh!” Alara spoke in surprise, “Well, yeah I guess so. Can’t say no to a rum.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jorm smiled to her and then turned to the barmaid. “Another rum for me and the blonde lass.”

“Zehsaa? Do you want anything?” Alara looked to her friend sitting to the left of her.


Evant glanced momentarily at the commotion at the large table in the middle of the cantina before directing his attention back to the three blue bordered cards in his hand, ‘+3’, ‘+2’, ‘+3’. He let out a deep sign and looked back at the pile of green cards laid out before him on the table.

“Are you somehow hoping that by the will of the Force the total is going to change while you sit there?” Shadow said from across the table, a fake annoyance in the tone of pure amusement.

“Maybe,” Evant replied.

“You do realize we’re playing for fun right? There is literally nothing at stake here, just play a card already,” she urged.

“Nothing at stake? Victory is at stake here. You’re already up two to one on me, I need this hand,” Evant replied, favoring the ‘+3’ near the end of his hand and momentarily grabbing it before sliding it back down.

“Well it’s good to know you’re just as fun to play games with as always,” Shadow smiled, setting her own side deck on the table and looking up from their booth into the cantina at the commotion at the large table in the middle. “What does it take to get service around here?”

“Be a large obnoxious crowd that doesn’t stop drinking?” Evant replied, sliding the ‘+2’ up from his hand before pushing it back with a deep breath.

“I can be obnoxious,” Shadow replied, looking over at her clanmates celebrating from her booth on the far end of the cantina with her friend.

“Please don’t,” Evant replied looking up from his cards for a moment sensing a growing frustration in his friend that ran deeper than the lack of service. “But, if you want to go party with your friends, go.”

Shadow frowned in response, her attention on Evant across the table. She didn’t need to speak, as her unspoken emotional response said enough to the Adept before he responded, “I just mean, I’m glad we were able to catch up. It’s been great, but I don’t want to impose or deny you some outstanding camaraderie experience. I should probably get back to check on Xen before I depart anyways.”

Evant started to set his cards down as Shadow responded, “No. You’re staying right here while I annihilate you at Pazaak and crush that fragile ego of yours.”

Evant smiled and pulled his cards back in front of him and decided on a ‘+3’, pulling it out and tossing it next to the pile of green cards. Shadow pulled a green card from the main deck and put a ‘+2’ with her hand and laughed. “That’s 20 for me and 19 for you. How does that annihilation feel?”

Slowly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath the Adept took a moment to calm himself as an unfamiliar yet unthreatening figure approached and spoke, “Can I get you two anything?”

Immediately Evant looked up at the barkeep standing at the end of his booth and smiled, “Of course, your finest whiskey please and -”

Stopped mid sentence the Dark Jedi sensed something with Shadow across the table. It was an emotion and a feeling of vulnerability, while at the same time comfortable and receptive as if his friend had no qualms of hiding her true feelings. Yet it was strong enough to give him pause.

“Oh, and water for me please. A lot of it.”

“Really?” Evant asked with a smile.

“Yes, really,” Shadow replied with a smile of her own as the barkeep hurried off to fetch their order.

“Okay then annihilator, deal us up for another round I’m feeling lucky this time,” Evant said as he picked up his side deck and started to shuffle through it trying to push the tinge of disappointment at his loss aside and focus on his next victory.


The fourth round of the infamous card game was turning out to be a close one. Never having had a history of actually playing the game, Shadow could only remember the tips her mercenary husband had given her when he had first taught her. The wins she had over Evant were more or likely results of pure luck and her Jedi patience. Plus, the game was relaxing for her, and distracted her from the jamboree of Palatinaeans.

“You just may have your chance at bragging rights, my friend,” she remarked as she placed a ‘+3’ amidst the pile. “Have you finally stepped up your game?”

“You sure I wasn’t just letting you win?” Evant asked as he pondered over his hand.

“Ha! That would be very unlike you.” The Battlemaster chuckled as she leaned back and closed her eyes. “I know you too well, Evant. You don’t go easy on anyone.”

“Oh, but you do? The Sith assassin leader of Tacitus Athanasius surely has no mercy.”

“Maybe…” Shadow sighed as she let her eyes open a bit. “Indeed, I have perhaps committed atrocities in the past, but I am not without mercy now and then. Things have changed since we last saw each other.”

The older man nodded. "Such as playing Pazaak?

“Oh well, when you have a mercenary for a hus-”

Shadow sat up straight and looked around the vicinity, realizing she had almost slipped up about her secret marriage. “Well, you learn a lot from scoundrels when it comes to the world of cards. My apprentice was good at it.”

“Makes sense.” Evant finally placed a ‘+2’ in the pile. “You and your secrets. I wouldn’t expect anything less from an assassin such as yourself.”

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t make life any easier. However, I am willing to take that burden upon myself. It’s nothing new.”

“Perhaps, though there is something quite new isn’t there?”

“Nothing ever slips past you,” she remarked as another glass of water was delivered to the woman.

She took a mannerly sip and looked the man in the eye. "I trust you, Evant. I trust you more than most considering how you were there for me back when you had less wrinkles,” she half-jokingly said.

“Your cold, Sith humor continues on.”

“Oh yes, it keeps me entertained when old friends are busy doing busy things far away.” Shadow cleared her throat as she looked at her hand of cards, pondering how to approach the secret subject that burdened her. She clenched her fist, and shook her head, decided it was best not to speak of it at all.

Instead, she placed a ‘+2’ in the pile and managed a smile as she met his gaze. “I think you just might win after all. Your move.”


All of a sudden, Katyusha Neige burst in to the room and exclaimed.

“Hello all.”

The whole room looked at the tyro Sith as she burst into the room. Most of them noticed pretty quickly That Katyusha was pretty drunk and wasn’t thinking straight.

“Kat are you drunk?” Asked Shadow, curious of her apprentice’s state.

"Pfff, no… Maybe…Hick. yes. Answered The young Acolyte as she slumped down beside her master who was playing some Pazaak.

“Why are you drunk.” asked Evant, wondering why his friend’s Student was so drunk.

“Hick… well i went on a mission to enter Tacitus Athansius and I succeeded, I killed 3 Trandoshans, 3 Chiss and a Hutt so i decided to celebrate.” Announced the young Sith to group as she held the head of a Trandoshan.

“Kat, Put the head away.” Hissed shadow to her apprentice, angered by kat’s loss of self control. Kat looked over to Shadow’s cards and asked.

“What are you playing, looks fun.”

Evant butted in to educate the drunken youth.

“Its called Pazaak”

Kat turned to Evant and with a puzzled look, asked the man.

“What the Fracks a Pazaak”

(i just finished writing 4 hours for of fiction so if it sucks its cause i’m too tired to write straight)


Freshly filled glasses clicked down on the hardwood table while empty ones vanished as the barmaid did her job with a smile. Alara picked one up and held it against the light, savoring the soft hazel liquid even before it touched her lips.

Suddenly, she shuddered.

“Found a fly?” Jorm asked, amused as ever.
“No… the rum’s fine,” Alara responded. She continued in a quieter, more private tone.
“But see that guy at the bar over there? The baldy? Reminds me of that new Krennel, Jurdan. I think he’s got an eye on me.” She snorted and downed her rum in one swig.

“…he what, now? Has he even seen a mirror lately?”

She gave a short, clear laugh. “Dunno. I think he even tried to embrace me yesterday when I was in the palace.” Alara took Jorm’s offered drink, which she gladly chased her own with. “Like I’d let a new guy get that close…”

Jorm smiled a mean, calculating smile. "I’ve got my hands on his training footage. A brute.” He allowed himself a few seconds of consideration. “Six to one, my favor.”

Alara chuckled. “Be my guest. He’s got nothing to win, anyway. If he truly has an eye on me, all care for him to see is me…” she pulled herself onto Jorm’s lap and put her arms around his neck. “…doing this.”
As her lips met Jorm’s, the Kiffar’s world expanded, and not just in the romantic sense. His enhanced awareness conveyed an emotional clutter of surprise and confusion, pinches of anger and benevolence, from the surrounding people, clan or not.

Then his world suddenly took a turn to the wet and frigid. Startled, he turned his attention to the source of the unwelcome climate change; a growling Alara still in his lap.
He found it to be an empty water glass in Lex’ hand, shivering in the Quarren’s grip as he spectated them slack-tacled-ly.
“How… when… why… you can’t just shock me like that!” Lexiconus exclaimed, shaking.


Alara pulled her lips back from the Kiffar’s and pressed them into a charming smile, while Jorm sat there dazed but blissful. The Quarren, his hand still shaking, didn’t know where to look from this odd scene. The flirtations and romance of people are what confused him the most in this galaxy, but how to react to this confused him more. With a heavy sigh, he shrugged the tension from his shoulder and turned away.

“Ugh, Humans. Can’t keep their wet lips apart,” He grumbled, as the screeching of a stool echoed about. Planting the stool down, Lexiconus sat next to them and yanked out a datapad from his coat.

“What I am about to show you, is not only top-covert information, but if caught in the wrong hands, could mean your execution,” Lexiconus whispered, his tentacles hiding the movement of his lips. Jorm was jumping from his seat as his fingers tapped frantically on the screen.

“Hurry up and show me already!” Both Alara and Jorm squealed at the information. As a hologram slowly erupted to life, it showed the image of a ruined Trade Federation ship, holding a droid command centre .

“This is the Godless Matron, it houses thousands of pirates each day, as well as it sells weapons, gear, ships and droids. It is a paradise for Excidium. But there’s something deeper that nobody knows about.” The hologram zoomed inside the ship and onto a hangar, while Lexiconus continued.

“This is Hangar Zerek, a deathtrap of events and a fighting club. Two people enter, one victor leaves with the credits, and this isn’t the only scene.” The hologram zoomed back out as the ship was highlighted with red dots.

“Hangar Zerek, The Gauntlet, Chute Town are just a few places that combatants enter and come out with prizes. This is a treasury for those who know how to play the game. Fortunately, Dek and I have been watching for awhile now. Interested?” His ivory fangs protruded as his mouth formed a devious grin.


“That’s hardly in question, my dear Lexington!” Alara teased the Quarren with a random nickname. The half-Sephi turned to her favored Kiffar and grinned excitedly.“What do you think, dear? Shall we show the world yet again what a great pair we make on the battlefield?”

“We could definitely swing that. I won’t turn down a chance to watch you fight. Or fight for you,” Jorm Na’Trej pulled gently at the chain around his neck with a gestured wink towards the blonde.

Alara let out a mischievous giggle and turned back to the hologram. Her figure leaned in closely to get a better look of the imagery before her. “Which do we go to first? Any particular section?”

“I’d recommend you to the hangar, Alara. Your acrobatic skill will do us well there. Jorm could easily take Chute Town. It’s exactly what it sounds like,” the Quarren pointed a tentacle towards various highlighted spots respectively.

Jorm very obviously placed his hand around his new-discovered partner and pulled her close to his side. “When shall we go? Anyone else coming for the fun?”

“We can ask around. Let’s only pick the best fighters though. We can’t make money on duds.” Lexiconus Qor clarified to the pair, “I think we could leave within the hour.”

“No point in putting off fun. I’ll grab something for the road, though.” Alara gestured towards the barmaid who politely nodded and rushed off to fill the Mystic’s glass with another round of rum. The maiden hurried back and placed the cup back in the half-Sephi’s palm. Her playful eyes flickered at the liquid’s amber color. She leaned the cup gently against her lips and gulped every last drop down her throat. The cup clinked against a nearby table as Alara exhaled a slightly obnoxious “ahhh…”

“Need to fetch anything before we go?” Lexiconus asked the two.

“I think I’m good. I’ll just make sure Forren and Artemis are being taken care of.” Alara clicked a datapad from her belt and hastily texted her sister Shadow Nighthunter a request to watch her beloved pets until she returned.

“I’m good too. Nothing holds me down.” Jorm’s relaxed smile still remained on his face.

“Then let’s get to it.” Lexiconus’ jawline crept into a smile. He deactivated the hologram and led the group outside of their beloved hangout.