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Fromikeable
Keeper Of The Techxts
1,616 posts
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...and I'm comin'! *guitar riff*
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Aug 10, 2014 1:50:14 GMT -5
Post by Fromikeable on Aug 10, 2014 1:50:14 GMT -5
"... and thusly, we can surmise that the discovery of these particular pieces of engineering at the Yolumni Hyperspace Cannon, located on the planet's southern pole, is direct evidence of an acting conspiracy." The crimson Zeltron stood before the crowd, his suit pressed and suave, his voice rich and enthralling as it dictated his theory. A red hand pointed a small laser-pointer at an enormous machine set about on a small platform beside him on the stage, lined with primitive, dusty wiring as well as the labelings of ancient Durese mechanics. The pointer circled smoothly about a particular component, which sported a small inscription.
"Researchers initially supposed the deviations on the wire-linings of these gamma producers to be simple typos, as were known to exist on a fair few such early models. Some have supposed these to actually be unique spellings somehow derived from the mysterious engineering of these components, however for the purposes of testing one theory at a time, we will stick to what we know. However, given the previous evidence, I would have you fine ladies and gentlemen entertain not only myself, but the following idea." The professor pocketed his pointer and transitioned to another slide on a large projection on a larger screen behind him, clearing his throat and beginning.
"This individual..." The projection displayed a Duro man in a poorly-rendered image clearly too old for the equipment displaying it to do so properly. The man held a cigar in his mouth, a grin on his face, and a rifle in his hand. He looked grizzled and scarred, the skin turning grey at the scars and marring his blue face and head. His eyes peered straight at the audience, confident and battle-tried. "... is the infamous Corporal Rama Hanoy. Many of you who have studied pre-Hyperspace Duros will recognize that name from the latter end of your study, just as those of you who have studied post-Hyperspace will recognize him from the former end. Either way, you can successfully recognize his historical reputation as perhaps one of the most psychotic and dangerous individuals on Duros during the rebellions just before the planet's invention of the hyperdrive. He was described by Queen Rana Mas Trehalt herself as 'death in living medium', no doubt in part to his constant massacring habits and attempted use of nuclear arms. A real gentlemen." A few chuckles from the crowd made the good doctor grin before beginning to transit the stage.
"But what I theorize, fine peers, is that Corporal Hanoy's unknown death came but a moment too soon for him to cast his crowning, murderous achievement on the universe. These misspellings, indeed seemingly innocent and excusable, match perfectly with 3 of Hanoy's 20 known ciphers among sleeper agents during the period. Throw in the previously discussed warship discovered in the pole as well..." He shifted the projection back a few slides to a few mangled pieces of metal laying in a tent, looking as though they had been chewed by a Rancor. "A ship which was detonated with a whopping 2 hours remaining on its suicidal payload's timer and a panicked crew scrambling to increase its speed toward the hyperspace cannon, and I would propose to you that the cannon was never the ship's target at all. For I might add a final caveat..." The projection slid again to another slide, this one of ancient coded records.
"That day of the ship's destruction, no ships were due in or out via the cannon for approximately two hours. And yet, these logs show the gamma producers spinning at full capacity, the destination being set to coordinates just short of Corellia, and the proper alignments being made and suddenly stopped halfway through. And did you notice the energy input?" He pointed the pointer at a line of code. "I have it on the authority of the entire accredited School of Hyperspacial Sciences at the University of Agamar that such an amount of energy would be far too little for cargo ships that regularly traded via the cannons at the time. According to my colleagues, the energy would be more along the lines of a mass weighing in somewhere around 3.4 teragrams... precisely that of the battleship."
The professor took a sip of water before driving it all home.
"What I propose for your consideration and subsequent vituperation is this. That fateful day, the mad Corporal sought not to bomb the Yolumni Hyperspace Cannon, but rather utilize it to reach his true target. I henceforth theorize that the ship was intended to bypass Durese security forces and utilize the cannon via sleeper agents operating the machinery from within, launching the vessel to Corellia, wherein it would have sought its primary target and self-destructed at the expected time. Of course, one might argue that despite the case made, this is a stretch. I would agree with one such person to a degree, though I would caution them to consider the Corporal's extreme enthrallment with the rivalry between the two planets, as well what I would equate to be a willingness to plunge his planet into war in efforts to weaken the Queen he so openly and brutally rebelled against."
"And with that, I do believe that your prayers will be answered and that I will finally shut it." With a small bow, the crowd clapped lightly, a few more amused by the comment, a few others genuinely agreeing with it. Professor Doctor Rase Hyul took another small bow before finally taking a breath and finishing his water, gathering his notes from his podium and replacing them in a small leather courier's bag before slipping it over his shoulder and watching a few stage crewmen begin to move the giant gamma producer off to its crate. The crowd began to empty and erupted in talk about the auditorium, with some leaving immediately, some coming up to talk to Rase (both in agreement, argument, and even simple greetings), and yet, after a few minutes, all began to exit out toward the lobby and subsequently the full bar open to all symposium-goers.
Once the room was finally clear, the doctor genuinely, softly sighed. Not that he didn't love making arguments for the intentions of ancient Durese madmen, but... gods, couldn't something a bit more interesting happen today?
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Neology
Damsel out of Distress
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Aug 18, 2014 16:14:25 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Aug 18, 2014 16:14:25 GMT -5
Novus sat near the back of the darkened auditorium, hands folded in her lap, quietly attentive as the zeltron gave his presentation. Paying attention was exercise in frustration – her education had been woefully remiss in the particulars of ancient hyperspace history. Still, if she concentrated, she could almost follow along … Surely, listening had never been so exhausting.
Even if the lecture gained her nothing else, she was now certain that Dr. Hyul would be perfect for the job she had in mind. Very good. Travel time to Druckenwell, acquiring a convention pass, and wearing this ridiculous dress all added up to effort that would have been criminal to waste.
At last, the lecture was over. The house lights came on and the the crowd began to disperse, though a handful of others lingered. She nudged these with the Force, carefully encouraging them to leave. To be perfectly honest, the offer of free food and alcohol mere rooms away did most of the job for her.
Novus got to her feet, smoothly righting the lines of her dress with her hands. Black cyrene silk hung nearly to the floor, save for a daring side part in the skirt. Dark lace sheathed her arms and a loose belt of heavy silver medallions circled her waist, clinking softly with every step. Long white hair hung midway down her back, pinned behind one pointed ear with an elaborately feathered barrette.
Dr. Rase Hyul was improved by close proximity. Handsome, as was common for his species, and surprisingly young for his vocation. Or not surprisingly – she'd done her homework, long before she'd decided to approach him for the job. Still, the real thing was a great deal better than the holo.
“Dr. Hyul?” She smiled as she closed the last few steps, extending her hand in greeting. “Interesting theory. I have to ask, are you always so open minded in your work?” Novus paused for a beat, then continued on. “I've lost a planet, you see. I think you might be able to find it for me.”
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Fromikeable
Keeper Of The Techxts
1,616 posts
628 likes
...and I'm comin'! *guitar riff*
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last online Jun 22, 2023 19:35:57 GMT -5
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Aug 25, 2014 17:24:44 GMT -5
Post by Fromikeable on Aug 25, 2014 17:24:44 GMT -5
The gods surely must have had a sense for humor, for not one second later was an elegant woman in equally elegant attire making her way toward the front of the auditorium, her black dress contrasting her white hair in a way that made Rase's eyes snap to her immediately. She appeared to be Arkanian, though being any more specific than that was beyond his capacity (his vague memory about differentiating between subspecies, while aided by his studies into Arkanian history, had ultimately deteriorated with time). Alas, she was surely a looker herself, and quite frankly it surprised him just a hair to see anyone at this event who wasn't there to either support or ridicule academia. Perhaps she was a collector? Regardless, he didn't let it show.
When she offered a hand, he offered his back, with crimson fingers shaking her limb softly in greeting. Was he so often open-minded? He couldn't help but utter a smooth laugh, his voice adopting a rich, suave tone as he replied. "I find that history becomes rather boring if one only entertains what they find to be reasonable." Closing his bag, he smoothed his tuxedo; a perfectly fitted set of black and white cotton that only made his blood-colored skin more apparent. He smoothed his hair with his free hand, keeping it tidy yet free to flow naturally, which was easy due to its medium length this evening. He could only flash his teeth in another, wider grin as the woman went on to explain that she had lost a planet.
"An entire planet? You wouldn't be the first." He chuckled lightly again. "But before you entreat me to go planet-hunting, I would first know who I'm talking to." Too many times he'd met high-wealth treasure-hunters dressed in spades and waving entire bank's worth of credits at him spouting on about some old legend or fairy-tale that they'd heard about once in a documentary. Naturally they figured themselves to be absolute experts on a subject they had only been aware of for a few months at best, and the encounters usually ended with him either correcting their misconceptions on the spot or turning them away to equally ill-educated hopefuls that they could share their lunacy with. He himself might have been classifiable as a treasure-hunter, but at least he was educated enough to know a prospect from a complete waste.
"After all, you're a bit too good-looking and a bit too wealthy to have just sat through a two hour lecture about ancient Durese conspiracies just for the sake of academia." A safe thing to bet, as he figured it.
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Neology
Damsel out of Distress
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addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
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Oct 26, 2014 18:05:25 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Oct 26, 2014 18:05:25 GMT -5
His hand closed over her's, smooth and warm. No calluses, she noted with a benign flicker of interest. Pure vanity, or was the man so removed from his work that he had no cause to hold a shovel? A disappointing thought, the latter. Still, her professional self was more interested in the end than the means.
“Good answer. Sometimes I wish more people felt that way.” She smiled, an appreciative gleam of white teeth and sharp canines. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand, taking in the width of his shoulders, the crisp 'v' of white framed by his lapels. If nothing else, he didn't look like he sat around in a classroom all day …
His laughter was warm and rich. Who was she? A thoroughly reasonable question that she couldn't answer, this being secure Republic space, her being what she was. His doubt was palpable. Something was making him lose interest. Novus suppressed a twinge of panic and looked away, focusing on his thoughts instead. Yavin IV was too big a prize to risk on poor salesmanship.
Oh. He thought she was a very pretty, but sadly eccentric, idiot. Oddly enough that was a relief, though she was somewhat lacking in evidence to the contrary. Being a Sith Lord didn't come with credentials. She crossed her arms and looked back at him, frowning very slightly.
“My name tag says 'Arjha Tikaris.' It's not my real name, obviously, but I promise you the planet I'm looking for is not a fairy tale.” She blew out a short breath of air, then straightened her shoulders. If he refused after this she'd likely have to kill him. “I want to find Yaven IV, but I can't say more here. Let's just say my favorite color is red and I'd really rather talk in private.”
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Fromikeable
Keeper Of The Techxts
1,616 posts
628 likes
...and I'm comin'! *guitar riff*
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last online Jun 22, 2023 19:35:57 GMT -5
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Oct 29, 2014 10:51:29 GMT -5
Post by Fromikeable on Oct 29, 2014 10:51:29 GMT -5
Rase couldn't help but grin a little wider as " Ms. Tikaris" made her case a little more, letting out what he interpreted as a slight sigh of... nerves? Stress? Obviously some form of unease. That sold him on his hypothesis a little more; she had no idea what she was doing, and thus she was here, asking him. At the very least, that earned her a brownie point; he couldn't stand imbeciles who were surer than spit that they were masters of their chosen flavor of lunacy.
Still... her chosen flavor certainly made his ears perk up, his eyes glinting a little with interest. "My my..." He chuckled, drumming a finger on his bag before slinging it over his shoulder and waving for her to follow. "What a very old, very peculiar name for you to know, Ms. Tikaris." He walked them both out a side door of the auditorium, away from the babbling masses in the lobby bar who were subduing their rowdiness with high-class cocktails and fingerfoods (remaining ever so civil as they did so, of course). Turning down a hall, he led in somewhat subdued silence, thinking quietly.
So... her favorite color was red. Were she the usual academic groupie or grad student, he might have interpreted that as a simple innuendo. And indeed, considering he'd felt her eyes wandering up his arms as they'd shaken hands, perhaps that was a factor. But grad student groupies rarely had cause for fake titles, and even more rarely were quite so blunt about their intentions.
No... no, he suspected she had something hard and cylindrical somewhere near her waist under that dress. And goodness, was interested in just what precisely it wanted from him, and just what precisely he might coax from it.
A beautiful Sith seeking Yavin and with nary an idea as to why... He grinned a little in his thinking. It seems I need to get out of Republic space more.
Their journey through the hall brought them through into a lift, up a few stories, and then over an overpass into a small, private spacebay used by the owners of the auditorium to house their speakers' vessels. Passing a few ships, some simple rentals, some ornate and lavish, they came upon Rase's, which sat somewhere in the middle. It was all sleek curves and delicate detail work, certainly big enough to house a good dozen people, but very obviously built with the intent of only housing one or two. The interior, they would find, was beautifully and tastefully decorated with all manner of ancient, pre-ancient, and beyond-pre-historic artifacts the doctor had collected from his travels, with some being the tiniest of showpieces, and with others being the grandest of statues and depictions. Beckoning toward the ramp, he gave her a mischievous smile.
"Does this satisfy your desires, madam? I hope you can pardon the untidiness; I was hardly expecting Sith today." He lowered his voice, adding. "Let alone one both aware of and interested in Naga Sadow and Exar Kun."
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Neology
Damsel out of Distress
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addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
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Oct 29, 2014 19:08:15 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Oct 29, 2014 19:08:15 GMT -5
She let Dr. Hyul guide her through the halls and up the lift, resting her hand decorously at the crook of his arm. After all, Novus had done her reading. His colleagues would be aware of his reputation with women. One more seeming conquest would be unremarkable, whereas stalking his heels like a Corellian dire-cat might be remembered.
Oh yes, this was definitely just for show.
They walked in relative silence, the doctor seemingly lost on some train of thought. Just as well; she had very little talent for smalltalk with strangers. At length, he lead her to a large shuttlebay, a bit like a private parking garage but enormously scaled up. She studied each ship with interest as they walked by, committing models and manufacturers to memory. It was always useful to keep apprised of civilian tech and fashion.
Rase's ship seemed appropriately matched to the man. Good lines, but a touch ostentatious for her tastes. She smiled back at his comment, shaking her head.
“If I was only looking to hire a ship, then certainly. This one seems entirely adequate for getting us there.” Novus followed up the ramp, pausing in the ship's central space to admire the doctor's collection. She turned a full circle before meeting the zeltron's eyes again with a vague sense of astonishment.
“Reproductions, I hope? Or do you plan on never being shot at?”
Well, now. Alone with a strange man on his starship. Clearly, it was time to get to heart of the matter. She was out of excuses, anyway.
“I'm more interested in Sadow, personally, but I'm afraid you'll find me a terrible stereotype. My Order is newly reborn, and ignorant of much of it's history.” She paced closer to one case, studying a interesting statuette. “I wonder what we've forgotten in four hundred years? A thing or two I could use, surely.” Novus turned back, shrugging her lean shoulders.
“I believe this is the part where you offer me a drink and tell me how much this is going to cost me.”
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Fromikeable
Keeper Of The Techxts
1,616 posts
628 likes
...and I'm comin'! *guitar riff*
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last online Jun 22, 2023 19:35:57 GMT -5
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Oct 29, 2014 22:32:40 GMT -5
Post by Fromikeable on Oct 29, 2014 22:32:40 GMT -5
"I certainly hope they're not reproductions. Most of them, especially that one-" Rase pointed to small marble statue of what looked like an ancient Catharian warrior in a stoic, battle-ready pose, spear brandished above his head, shield set to defend against in incoming invisible foe. "-certainly didn't care to make their relocation very amiable." He laughed smoothly, remembering the particularly irritating nerve gas he'd triggered on that particular expedition. It was a harsh lesson, but in retrospect an easy one:
If a hallway looks empty, it almost certainly isn't empty.
"Only partly correct. And indeed you and your Order don't." In the first sign of actual relaxation he'd dare to show thus far, the doctor's slender fingers moved to his bowtie and undid it with ease, sighing a little in relief as he stretched his sleek red neck and undid the first two buttons of his shirt, revealing his throat and the very top fringe of his collarbone. Stepping over to a small rack, he opened it, revealing a fine, small collection of alcohol. Setting the tie down, he grabbed two glasses and mingled his rich voice with the clinking of bottles.
"That is precisely why I've been betting against you thus far, frankly. While you may win points for attempting to be a bit more covert this time around..." He grinned a little, turning around and handing her a drink; a fine scotch, by the sight of it. "But those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it, as the old cliche goes."
He sipped his drink, finally tossing his tie and his bag next to a coat rack before beckoning for her to follow again. "I fear you've rather misspoken the second bit, however." They walked down a short hall lined with more collected treasures and artifacts, floored with a rich red carpet, and walled in a very subdued, ornate purple before coming to a set of very detailed, expertly-carved wooden doors that were more reminiscent of an ancient royal palace than a starship. Pushing them open, Rase revealed his study; a circular room at the center of the ship quite literally walled with bookshelves as deep as a forearm, as tall as a Rancor, and filled snugly and fully with actual ink-and-paper books (a rare sight indeed, let alone in that volume). Walking behind his equally expertly-carved wooden desk and sitting in a large, cushy leather chair, the doctor sipped his drink again before activating a holopad, scrolling through it as he began to multitask reading and negotiating.
"The question is not what price I would dictate, but rather what gain I could stand to make from your particular oyster." Finding a desired article in his holopad, he read silently for a few seconds before placing it down and getting up, tracing his finger through the books immediately behind his seat.
"There are plenty of lost worlds with a plethora of lost secrets each. Why should yours hold priority?" His voice, though still smooth and warm, revealed his skepticism rather honestly.
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Neology
Damsel out of Distress
1,489 posts
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addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
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Oct 30, 2014 16:47:42 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Oct 30, 2014 16:47:42 GMT -5
Only partially correct. Novus hmmed noncommittally, blue eyes narrowing slightly. Did other women enjoy being constantly corrected, or was this a special effort put forth for the potential employer? The latter, she rather thought, or Dr. Hyul would not have the reputation that he did, good looks aside. Still, she watched with interest as his reflection removed its tie, framed in a display case's mirrored backdrop.
“Goodie for us that the Republic is often prone to the same mistakes, then. We'll all be at this a while yet.” She turned to face him, accepted the glass with murmured thanks. His words made her shake her head, amused.
“Oh, what have I got wrong this time, Dr. Hyul?” Novus laughed, following at a slow walk, one brow raising skeptically at the ornate doors. She half expected his bedroom to lie beyond, though a glance within revealed a personal library of sorts. Novus took the seat on the near side of the desk, leaning back, legs daintily crossed at the ankles. She listened attentively, though humor vanished from her posture as the zeltron pulled out a datapad and began to read. Silver brows drew down and her lips compressed briefly into a scarlet line.
“Let's not be nasty, Doctor. I can be quite reasonable – generous, even – if you work with me. If you don't … Well.” Icy blue eyes followed his movements as he got up, pinned to his shoulder blades as turned to the bookcase behind him to browse. “You know what I am and what I'm after. Coming here was a gamble; I need to be assured that you're ...” What was that phrase? “Pot committed. Otherwise I'd have to take measures to ensure my personal safety. That would be very unfortunate, for the both of us. I'd rather not come back to this plan with my second pick.”
Downing the rest of her drink, a most careless abuse of fine spirits, she summoned back the pretense of warmth. She unzipped her purse, drawing only a slim holoprojector from within.
“Now, when we took Rhen Varr, I gained access to select portions of the Jedi archives there. Cross referenced with our's, I am quite certain that some significant artifacts escaped the purge.” She turned the holoprojector on, scrolling through a couple ghostly images. Sketches from some ancient journal, imperfectly rendered in three dimensions. “The Crystal Phial and the Ebon Hilt. These, especially, I'd like to recover.”
“Now, as for terms. I'm willing to offer you a fifty-fifty split on whatever we manage to recover, and publishing rights with a year's forbearance.”
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Fromikeable
Keeper Of The Techxts
1,616 posts
628 likes
...and I'm comin'! *guitar riff*
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last online Jun 22, 2023 19:35:57 GMT -5
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Oct 30, 2014 23:50:30 GMT -5
Post by Fromikeable on Oct 30, 2014 23:50:30 GMT -5
Running crimson fingers over the ancient paper was a sensation that never got old to Rase, so even as he listened to his colleague and opened the front cover to a small index, he made his movements deliberately a little slow. His digits couldn't help but soak in the texture, as if they were running along smooth skin or soft fur, almost like a caress.
Completely opposite to the soothing sensation, however, was "Ms. Tikaris's" shift in approach. It seemed the doctor had taxed her patience a credit too far, for indeed she described his speech as nasty and pointed out that she could, in fact, be generous (to which he really had no doubt).
Taking a gamble on me being "pot committed"? That made him grin a little as he flipped through the pages of the book, glancing over an alphabet unseen and unused for milenia as he deciphered their titles each. Yabe, Yacka, Yatla'Bongano... finally he turned to a few stressed pages with particularly faded characters and charred edges. Their suffering looked beyond the simple detriment of time; the failed attempt to destroy them a good deal of time ago was very evident, even to the untrained eye. Activating his holopad once again and loading a translation software, Rase laid it over a particular page and pushed it to the front of his desk for her to see, the virtual surface displaying all of the (roughly) translated Basic text for her to view. The top of the page simply read:
"The Untouched Gas Giant Yavin And Its Moons: A Complete History From Discovery To Its Most Dire Of Hours"
"Now now Miss Tikaris. You may doubt my integrity, my intents, and my character, but it's almost always a worthless endeavor to doubt my interest and commitment." He motioned at the book. "I am nothing if not dedicated to the ideas of debt and study." Unusually honest and one-dimensional statements.
And honestly, Yavin IV certainly sounded like a prize to him. The Sith Lords known (or, at least, known to those who knew how to look past the purge) to have plagued the planet were an entire history in and of themselves, not to mention the long-forgotten natives that had been carelessly used by the dark lords and erased from memory by the lighter ones. The entire moon was no doubt an untapped collection of records and examples of a myriad of important finds; the civilization of the natives, the culture and technology of the Sith, the way by which the Sith destroyed that civilization with that technology in favor of that culture, and the methods and utter fear strapped to the Jedi of the period who simply wished it all to be a bad dream.
That sort of history held many lessons. And more importantly to Rase, it held something that made his ears perk to see and hear his colleague describe it.
"The Crystal Phial and the Ebony Hilt..." Humming richly and softly for a moment, he flipped through another few pages of the book, finding a page with a small chart of landmass and text and placing the holopad over it, tapping it. "The figurative crown jewels of Sadow himself, both of which are said to hold dark energies unknown to the behest of sentient-kind by those works of his worshipers that survived a rather desperate purge of information and records by a certain other lightsaber-wielding society." He tapped the chart, pointing to a small indication. "Sadow was actually buried with them, though now..." He hummed a bit more. "Determining where precisely they are will be a challenge."
The Zeltron waved a hand. Though they were interesting pieces, Ms. Tikaris' old Sith trinkets didn't catch his eye. No, he rather desired something else on Yavin IV, and frankly she was his best shot of getting it...
"... you have to appreciate, of course, how many quacks and billionaires I have calling me on a weekly basis demanding I go and find them a magical vase they read about in the tabloids that morning." He grinned, tapping a few buttons on his desk and bringing out a holoprojector of his own, displaying a giant model of Yavin IV (poorly made due to limited information) as well as a good book's worth of notes he had about the place. Sifting through them, he found one page of notes that seemed to repeat "Sadow" quite a bit, displaying it large next to the planet.
"Frankly, I'm sure you've forgotten far more than you realize. And while your offer sounds very fair indeed... I must add one final caveat if we are to be in business." He grinned a bit, crossing his arms. "I'm rather situated in a very particular interest of certain aspects of Yavin IV's past. A particular item in the very temple we might walk is indeed not of the planet or of your Order, let alone of Yavin at all." He nodded. "I must demand that regardless of its true nature or identity, I be given the right and appropriate time to study it before its ownership becomes that of the Sith Order."
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Neology
Damsel out of Distress
1,489 posts
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addicted to bad ideas and all the beauty in this world
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last online Mar 15, 2024 14:11:39 GMT -5
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Nov 5, 2014 15:50:49 GMT -5
Post by Neology on Nov 5, 2014 15:50:49 GMT -5
The Sith leaned forward, switching off her holoprojector. A sardonic smile pulled at one corner of her mouth as she read the page. He'd been bluffing before, then? She took that bit of new information down, unabashed, and filed it away. This is what Rase Hyul looks like when he lies... More or less like he looked the rest of the time. Disappointing, but to be expected; he was supposed to be quite good at the game. Any game. She let the threat of her previous statement hang in the air, undispelled. A fair warning of her true nature, easily masked with expensive perfume and carefully coiffed hair. A dress could be an excellent disguise, but it had to be matched to one's audience, same as any other.
“I'm sure you are, Doctor. Every man is dedicated to one or two things, I find.” She rolled the empty glass between her palms, continuing to study the book. Traces of soot, cracked leather, and threadbare binding. Genuine, for all she could tell. He flipped the page for her, bringing up a map.
“Yes, well. Sadow's original funeral accouterments were likely scattered when Nadd woke him. Underground feels right to me, but I do hope your research can narrow it down.” Novus shifted back in her seat as the doctor directed her attention to a projection of the moon in question, listening carefully. Quacks and billionaires, indeed. She was both, in the loosest of terms.
“I appreciate your caution. Really, I do, though I'm not sure that you appreciate the risk I take coming here.” Her nails tapped a staccato rhythm against the glass, as telling as the twitch of a cat's tail. “I would love to give you better proof, but sadly, they don't exactly give out diplomas for Sith school.”
Demands. Essentially, the zeltron was asking for the first pick of the spoils. She tossed her hair, wondering at that grin.
“Very well. You may have your trinket, though I ask that you tell me what we're looking for when the time comes. If that will be all, I recommend that we leave as soon as possible.” She glanced at the chrono on the wall. "A friend should be bringing my equipment by any minute now."
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Fromikeable
Keeper Of The Techxts
1,616 posts
628 likes
...and I'm comin'! *guitar riff*
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last online Jun 22, 2023 19:35:57 GMT -5
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Nov 5, 2014 16:30:22 GMT -5
Post by Fromikeable on Nov 5, 2014 16:30:22 GMT -5
She was a Sith lord. She had powers well beyond the capacities and understandings of most sentient beings, and with them she helped head an organization that, to put it lightly, wanted to rule the entire galaxy as despots. Even then, that was untrue; if history was any indicator, then their success would lead only to more bloodshed until one reigned supreme, and his or her competitors lay dead.
And she was there, absentmindedly drumming on a glass, reading a translation of an old book, wearing a dress and trying to understand a clock with ancient Tetan numbers.
A legend alive. It was easy to forget how history could paint people as gods.
"I would never dream of keeping the identity of such a thing a secret from an associate." The Zeltron's grin was difficult to distinguish in its nature, somewhere between cheeky and amused. Was he lying through his teeth, or accenting his amusement at the idea of him not being honest at this point? Even he wasn't sure; probably both.
"But I appreciate your understanding, in turn." Closing the book, Rase pushed it to the side of his desk and grabbed the holopad, quickly jotting down a few notes on what they'd discussed and where he should start studying while the ideas were fresh. "I recognize that my reputation may precede me, and none for the better, but I can assure you at least that if your hilt and phial are about, then they shall be found." With that, he tossed the holopad to the side and gave something that looked like a genuine smile. Deep down, it was only to try and calm her nerves a bit, though a part of him noted the fact that at the end of the day, she was in this just as over-her-head as the rich fools who called him daily.
He then checked the clock as well, actually being able to read the numbers by sheer familiarity. Grinning a bit wider and flashing his teeth, he couldn't help but chuckle. "It almost sounds as though you were expecting that you'd spend the night..." He let the innuendo dangle in his voice a bit before getting up, finishing his own drink and nodding.
"You'll find the guest room to be to the right of the entrance, with the mahogany doors depicting a Coruscanti wedding. It has its own bathroom, but do excuse any... garments I may have missed the last time it was cleaned." He rolled a wrist, waving off what precisely what that meant in the interest of continuing the instructions. "There's also a full closet, which you may or may not wish to utilize. Bring cool, tough clothing, as well as gloves and boots. The rest I can provide."
He gave one final grin, walking to the study door and looking back. "Do sleep well, Ms. Tikaris." And with that, the only remainder of him that lingered was the scent of a pressed suit and the light haze of pheromones.
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