The Dwarf and the Droid

[Rugs]

The Ballestra dropped out of hyperspace over Tatooine. Tatooine. A backwater planet by all accounts, and a world run by Hutts. Not a place Visari Netellus had much interest in, to be sure, but sometimes, it was places like these that held things of incredible value. And today, Visari was searching for something.

Of course, he wasn't the only person along on this expedition of sorts, or he more than likely would not have made his way out to the desert world. A number of those in the Dominion--including the leader, Shard--were on board the Ballestra, along with his two apprentices-to-be. Of course, Visari had seen to it that his guest traveled in comfort, which was not a hard thing aboard his ship, which was his personal vessel, and one that was well known for being luxurious. But, they were here for the same reason that he was: to search for something. Visari could not say for certain what that something was, but he knew they were looking for people. The Dominion was made up of types that some would describe as unsavory, and there weren't much better places to find unsavory types than Tatooine. Nar Shadaa, perhaps, but Tatooine was where they'd gone.

"So we have arrived," he said to no one in particular as he looked out over the desert world from the bridge of the vessel. He looked to one of the crewman that sat at a console. "Send word to prepare one of the shuttles to go down to the surface. I want it to be ready shortly." With that, he turned to leave the bridge as the crewman set about his work. He was the first to arrive in the hangar a few minutes later, though he could feel the presence of the others as they approached. He'd meet with those that would be going down in the ship's hangar, and from there they'd make their way down to the surface. He just hoped they'd all fit in the shuttle.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Elsewhere in the luxurious vessel, Shard was meditating, quietly for once; there was no aura of heat and chaos around him, no dark whispers, just an older blond man sitting unnaturally still on a cot, mumbling to himself and breathing shallowly through his nose. He heard the vessel drop out of hyperspace, and expanded his senses to percieve their destination within the Force.

Not that there was much to percieve. Tatooine was a dead planet, deader than Korriban and, were it not for the criminal elements present, more worthless than the rest of the Outer Rim. Its Force presence was sluggish in the extreme, almost completely still save for the occasional flurry at one of the scattered few settlements and villages. Boring, certainly, yet it was a haven for criminal and Hutt activity so it had its uses at times.

Right now, they were come in search of a couple of assets for the Dominion. A supposedly brilliant Jawa engineer and a utility droid with criminal inclinations were stranded there, or whatever, and needed a way off the planet; in return they would serve whoever saved them. The Miraluka wasn't quite clear on the details, since he hadn't quite paid attention; all he knew was there were prospective members to be had, and he liked to talk to his people personally.

During the trip, he had taken the opportunity to begin Looma's training, testing her skill with the lightsaber and lecturing on the subtleties of leadership. "Commanding others has as much to do with how you project yourself as the tone and volume of your voice, or the wisdom of your orders," he had explained at one time. "Your stance, your eyes, can all affect the way people listen to you and how receptive they are to your words."

Obviously he couldn't show what he meant about one's eyes, but he could project a vision of what he meant, and he showed her the ways one could stand to make one more noticable. She was intelligent, and had much potential, though the Miraluka knew he would have to be careful; she wasn't like his previous students, after all.

Anyway. "Time to go," he said aloud, unfolding from his seated position and rising smoothly to his feet. Swiftly he made his way to the hangar, his cloak swirling behind him; he wasn't dressed as ostentatiously as usual, instead wearing simple, servicable black clothing with cooling elements integrated into it. After all, he didn't want to announce to a place like Tatooine that he was wealthy and powerful; there were other ways to imply such, if necessary.

He walked into the hangar, and nodded to his comrade. "Visari," he said, moving to stand next to the businessman. "The others should be along shortly. Tell me again, what have you heard about the two we're after today?" His glasses glinted in the lights of the expansive room, as he waited for the rest of them.

[Mara]

[... from X]


The yellow Twi'lek by the name of Looma Isana was still trying to get used to her new title of Sith apprentice. And to her new master--Master!--Shard, the Miraluka. Not only was just that simple alliance new to her, but she had also, by way of association, been joined into the Dominion, the group of miscreants run by her master. A whole lot for a young Twi'lek to get used to in the course of just about a week.

She had been waiting for over a month since coming to Korriban from Bakura to realize her dream, to finally have a purpose in life. But now that she had it, she had a position in the Order, it was all very overwhelming for her. A part of her wished for the simplicity of life on the barren rocky world in the equally rocky Temple that she had helped construct. But the greater part of her, albeit wary, was excited for the new stage in her life.

The only con to the whole ordeal of receiving a master and being accepted into the Dominion was that she had had to leave Cal behind on Korriban. The night after the big ceremony and the induction of the four Darths, she had finally seen the young man again, the first time in about a month. Another moment that had left her uncharacteristically speechless. Though only a few weeks had passed since the last time they spoke back on Bakura and the trip over, Looma had felt like she had been seeing Caleb for the first time. He was the same Cal she had always known, but yet, also different. They had spent the rest of the night and into the early morning catching up. Those few hours were something she would treasure always.

And then just a week later, she had gotten the surprise of a lifetime. Her own master, she would be an apprentice. Excited, after coming to terms with the newness of it, she had gone to find Caleb and tell him about it. He also had had news; an apprentice he would also be to Darth Novus. Looma had been very happy for him, to be studying under the powerful woman. Not once did it cross her mind that he didn't deserve it, though it was sure that many others would wonder at the Lady's choice. No, Looma was proud of Caleb, and they both shared their happiness at having both finally found masters, the first step in their new lives as Sith.

But the elation didn't last very long. They had to part ways, as Shard was bringing her along on a trip for the Dominion, all the way to Tatooine. And he was to begin his training with Novus, as well. So they had said farewell to each other, not knowing when they would see each other again but promising that they would. Their tie to each other was something that was not easily broken, forged in the farmlands of Bakura.

And so Looma had found herself boarding the Ballestra, Caleb and all her aspirations held tight to her chest. She would miss him, surely, but now she had other things to focus on. Her training with Shard had begun in full force, though he had dabbled with it while still on Korriban. For the first time in years, since being at the Jedi Temple, she had held a lightsaber in her hands. Obviously, at first, she had been clumsy with it, rusty with her skills in Shii-Cho. But gradually she got used to the heft of the weapon in her hands. And with the help of the Force, regained all her memory of past training.

He had also spoken to her of leadership, though at the time she wondered why. Shard was the leader; she was the apprentice. But the yellow Twi'lek soaked it all in, knowing that the knowledge would have a purpose later in her life, probably when she least expected it. His words on body language had hit her with understanding. Though never a slave herself, she had enough experience to know that most Twi'leks were sold into slavery, as her own sister had been. And within her body, she held the power to command others. She could yell at beings all she wanted, but they wouldn't listen unless her facial features also portrayed her intentions.

She had spent her alone time during the trip practicing more with her telekinesis and with the lightsaber. Wanting to make her master proud with her improvements. Looma knew she was fair from being an expert in Shii-Cho, but the movements were becoming more natural for her. The Twi'lek knew she could not rely solely on her skills with the Force, on telekinetics and telepathy. Sometimes a good blade was more useful.

From her cabin, she felt the jolt of the sublight engines kicking in after the drop from hyperspace. Another new planet, another set of new experiences in front of her. Not sure what to do next, not knowing whether the Ballestra would continue in for a landing, Looma left the room behind.

No longer was she clad in her ragged agricultural attire from Bakura, made even more ragged from time spent on Korriban. She was dressed more simply and modestly, something she preferred, unusual for one of her species. Simple brown leggings and a sleeveless tunic fitted around her shapely body, her feet encased in hardy boots. The lightsaber Shard had given her attached to her belt. Knowing that Tatooine was a hot desert planet, she had forewent any outer clothing.

Spreading herself open to the Force, she felt the familiar presence of her master--it was still hard for her to get used to the term--down on the other side of the ship, where she thought the hangar was, if she remembered from her tour earlier on their departure. Her lekku were quiet as she strode through the ship, finding Shard in the hangar as she thought, along with their host and owner of the ship, Visari Netellus. Respectfully, she stood off to the side, waiting for acknowledgment.

And waiting to see what life had in store for her next.

[Casual]

T3-M6 had no idea he was going the wrong way. Nobody stopped to mention it to him. He had been flying towards the goal of the Sith Empire on the Outer Rim. What he’d found was that every ride he had hitched was taking him farther and farther away from the Sith Empire. So much so, that he was now on the other side of the Galaxy. How had he made such a grave error? How could he have miscalculated that? He was after all, a utility droid, purposed for maintenance, specifically in the field of large spacecraft. Yet, here he was on Tatooine, of all places. The sand and heat simply did not agree with him. There was nothing for him here, nothing but sand and the ever increasing threat of being unkempt.

Yes, it was true. T3 had over time built up much bits of dirt, grease and some slight carbon scoring, much to his enjoyment. It sated his hunger for adventure and the demise of routine. This of course was all moot point if he could not find one who could be the solution to all his problems. What he needed was a master, if not a temporary one, who could keep him happy, maintained, and maybe, just maybe, also be one to soothe his urge for adventure. Perhaps this was becoming more and more of his end goal, but his computations had overridden this notion. He would not survive long on a life full of adventure, and T3 wanted to live as long as he could, was that too much to ask for a droid? He thought not.

T3 meandered towards the Spaceport, as had become a bit of a habit for him now. What he needed to do was get lucky. Yes, that was it. He needed copious amounts of luck. He needed this temporary, or, if he really got lucky, permanent master, but this was Tatooine. A massive speck of the foul and pitiful, it was. So it was with proverbial crossed fingers that T3 strolled towards the spaceport, ever hoping there would be someone worth his time, someone to get him the heck out of here.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Tatooine... how I loathe thee, Shard thought to himself as all who were coming boarded the shuttle for the surface. The place was beyond dead; it was a mummified corpse with piddling little small-minded bugs scrabbling about for... whatever they scrabbled about for. Surely nothing around here; mummies didn't have much, after all. Unless they were special mummies, but Tatooine was anything but.

"Why," the Miraluka exclaimed as the doors closed and the shuttle lifted off, "if it weren't for a convenient convergence of criminal cargo and space lanes, not to mention slimy smelly stinking bloated Hutts and their slinking grasping snatching creeping claws, the place wouldn't even have the dubious dignity of scrabbling scarabs to grace its deadened dusky downs of shifting sand and shifty sordid soirees.

"Oh Tatooine you shattered, tattered temptress," he went on, emnity evident in every emphasized exclamation, "how high my hate, that I must meander in measlely metaphors for fruitless fumbling inquiry into insipidly informative iambs! Good grief the gormless gambling Gamorrean guards and their hastily handled Huttese hammocks! Alliteration alive, all you aimless airheaded ambling ants!"

He broke off, looking around, then laughed. "How I do go on," he said primly, dusting himself off. "But I believe we're here." Indeed, they were there, as evidenced by the thud of the shuttle's landing. "Brace yourselves," he murmured, throwing a black hood over his head and a black scarf over his face; somewhere along the way his expensive glasses had been switched out for welding goggles, just as dark and inscrutable and unrevealing, presumably just as expensive; one could presume they were to keep sand out of his empty sockets.

The door dropped down, and sunlight flowed in, accompanied by sand and hot wind. "Be innocuous," he said over his shoulder as he led the way out, "this is one place we don't want to stand out." Indeed, in his bland black clothes and with the hood and scarf, the normally outgoing Miraluka would have blended quite well into a crowd. Or, he would have, were it not for the expensive Echani vibrosword and silenced slugthrower at his hip; his lightsabers were in an inner pocket, and stowed in his boot as usual was a holt-out gun (though he had upgraded from .357 to .454 recently, Force knows why).

Immediately he saw the dark-hued T3 trundling along, and nodded to himself; this was half their task right now, if his inconsievable luck held. And since it had been holding for the past five years, it was in fact quite likely that this was half their job. "T3-M6?" he said out loud, striding toward the droid. "We're looking for you, and a Jawa weaponsmaster. Do you know anything of him?" The Miraluka knew Jawaese, though no one here knew that yet; they would all be in for a surprise, so they would.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Hsi stared at the Hutt before him, his head cocked to the side in sheer annoyance. Its a good thing he wasn't force sensitive, because otherwise he'd have flames shooting out of his ass from annoyance. The Hutt lay across a cushy spot in back of the audience chamber, his disgusting fingers trailing the back of the twi'lek slave before him. Just watching the deplorable seen and a wandering mind made him half-consider just shooting the poor thing and ending her absolute misery. "Arrogant slug..." The Jawa mumbled under his breath in Jawaese.

His face immediately blanched as the protocol droid next to the Hutt suddenly perked up and began to translate, awfully loud, to the Hutt. The fat, arrogant thing seemed shocked, as if a horrible injustice had just been dealt forth. He huffed and puffed, apparently about to blow the Jawa's little house down. Hsi just crossed his arms and narrowed his red eyes, he was quite confident that his house was made of bricks.

The slug put forth a series of condescending comments, not all of which were particularly flattering. So the tube of blubber had feelings. And apparently there was a soft spot somewhere underneath the folds of fat and slime. This would not go over well with Hsi, as he was already late in payment of the slug, who had actually been helping to fund his shop. And Hsi hadn't been able to meet the pay agreement for a few months ( supplying basic arms ), but the damn slug was a bit demanding, and he hadn't exactly put too much faith in Hsi's business.

The protocol droid translated, the first half not entirely important but wholly degrading, "My exalted master, Asmae, claims that 'you, Dwarf, have pushed the last straw!' His merciful nature was going to let you off light, but it appears as though you have no respect left for him, and his leniency shall be less."

All Hsi could think was, oh, I sincerely doubt that!

"He says that you are filth and that your freedom is now stripped of you. You shall be held in the droid quarters and shall repair every single one. You will then be detained until you have made twice the amount of weapons owed. If you attempt to leave before these tasks are finished, you will be...killed."

Hsi glared at him, "Just try me," He glared, reaching into his pockets. Several rifles raised up instantly.

"You will not survive that mistake." The Hutt's assistant remarked, a smug looking Trandoshan with his arms crossed. Hsi stopped pulling out the rocket, glaring at them all. Two Gammoreans approached, "Seize him!"

What Hsi had intended to say was, "Not a hand on me or you die!" Instead, it came out as more of a screeching outrage in which he dropped his rocket ( useless at such close range ) and pulled out two Arkanian heavy blasters. The Gammoreans reached to pick him up, one of the paying dearly, as Hsi just put several bolts into his unprotected arm, then firing into his face. He was then face first on the ground, his breath gone away. The second Gammorean had stepped on him, and made him harmless as two thugs removed his weapons and a small device that called for the assistance of Z3.

( Tada! )

[Mara]

The whole trip down to the surface of Tatooine in the shuttle from the Ballestra, Looma's violet eyes were wide open as she stared at her master. He had been fairly reserved when speaking with Visari before they departed, more like the Shard she had originally met during the Temple construction. But now, as he went on and on about the horridness of the trip itself and the planet they were landing on, the yellow Twi'lek was experiencing yet another quirk of her new master's.

Not having been his apprentice long, she was wondering if he had suffered a concussion, something she wondered when he was being all super bubbly the day he had asked her to be his apprentice. Or perhaps the Miraluka was just a victim of multiple personality disorder. Or there could be a whole host of other reasons as to why he was rambling on. Either way, Looma knew she would find out, eventually. She hoped.

It was hard to listen to him, going on and on. Her surprise left her only half-focused on his actual words, and she hoped he wasn't saying anything important. The others didn't seem to be all that interested in her master, so perhaps this was what passed as normal for him. Looma had no idea herself.

But then they had landed, and the tirade ended, his badly poetic personality replaced with the one she had the most experience being in the presence of. She followed him out of the shuttle, glad that she had forgone any outer clothing. It was so hot and stifling on this planet. She knew it would be, but this was more than she had expected, even growing up on Ryloth. Though, she was aware that this made her lightsaber stand out in contrast to her brown-toned clothes. Not quite the way to avoid notice. Quickly, she remedied the situation by unclipping the weapon and stuffing it into her pants at the small of her back. Her shirt would keep it hidden, for now.

She stood quietly by, waiting to see what had brought them to this planet that Shard hated so much, so ineloquently saying so on the shuttle trip down. He approached a droid and spoke to him, apparently familiar with it. Another surprise for Shard's new apprentice. Looma kept back with the others, letting her master take care of his business.

[Rugs]

"Supposedly," Visari said to his Miraluka compadre, "there's a Jawa down on the surface that knows a good deal of weapon crafting, among other things. He could be of use to our cause, as I'm sure you might imagine." The Epicanthix businessman stroked his goatee in thought for a moment. It was rougher than it usually was; after all, the idea for today was to blend, and the nigh perfectly kept appearance Visari usually would be a bit out of place on a world such as Tatooine. That was the reason hi s usual expensive attire had been replaced with the clothes a wandering spacer might wear, underneath a world old brown poncho. Even his cane was absent, and he instead had his lightsaber hidden away on his person, though he didn't expect to need it. One could never be too sure, though. "And, there's a droid, T3-M6, that could be quite useful as well. Word is that it's got a rather nasty predisposition for crime to be a droid. He too could be useful, no?"

Looma, the Twi'lek that Shard had taken under his wing, arrived a few moments later, and the time to move out and down to the surface came. Visari looked out onto the dead world as the shuttle moved down through the heavens and snorted softly. Would that he could be somewhere else now, but nay, the ones they needed were here. A sudden outburst from Shard caught his attention and he looked over, to see--and hear--that the man had burst into an odd rant about the planet. Visari cocked an eyebrow as he listened, and chuckled a bit when Shard's talk came to a conclusion. "Been sneaking in poetry reading again, have we," he asked as he passed by the Miraluka on the way out of the shuttle. Or perhaps Shard's alliterative mood had been brought on my some strange flight of fancy. There was never any telling with one such as him.

Out into the sand and the wind Visari stepped, and was almost instantly reminded of why he didn't like the place. The heat didn't bother him. The sand, he could live with. And the sunlight certainly wasn't a problem, in spite of the bedtime stories told by mothers to their naughty children that claimed that the light made Sith melt or something silly like that. No, it was an intangible thing that made this place what it was, and Visari would not at all miss this would when their business was concluded. Still, though he could ignore the sand if he wished it, he raised a small shield of the Force about a half an inch off of his skin to keep the sand off of him and out of his clothes. There was no need to deal with such annoyances when not needed, now was there?

And apparently, luck was with them this day, because immediately in front of them was a droid. A droid that very much fit the description of T3-M6. "Well then, it seems we're in luck," he said to Shard. "Provided this is our quarry, then we just need to find ourselves a certain Dwarf and we can be away from this place of... 'deadened dusky downs of shifting sand and shifty sordid soirees,' I believe it was?"

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

Hsi grumbled to himself as his hands went over the small robot. He once again looked all around to make sure none of the guards were watching, and reached into the back-of it, entering coding into its programming systems to re-wire its functions and give it new commands, as well as trying to create an accurate excuse system in case it were stopped on its mission.

The droid was a very rustic thing; a gray protocol droid that had been falling apart in the back of the Hutt's workshop. Its name was A1-B6, and it was now officially ordered to find its way to Hsi's weapon shop. He had quite a bit of clients who would be coming to and from his shop, and he didn't want to leave them without an excuse. This machine was to get to the shop and stand at the front doors, so it could explain to clients Hsi's current predicament and that it would take some time to get their equipment ready...

He accidentally crossed a wire and hit a spark, burning hand, "ACKT!" He wailed, pulling his hand back and blowing on it.

"What's going on back there?"

Hsi quickly ran back to the workshop and picked up one of the Gammorrean war-axes, pretending he had been working the whole time, "Cut myself sharpening!" He replied. Apparently, that was suitable enough for the guard, and he left. Hsi quickly shuffled back to A1-B6.

~*~

<Self diagnosis>
Power: 100%
Memory: 50%
<Running Diagnostic>
<Input>Recent memory wipe.</input>
<Input>Pragramming tampered with</Input>
<Running Firewall system>
<Self Diagnostic>
<Firewall failure>
<Computing>...<Computing>...<Computing>
<Input>New programming: Locate Clientel and inform them of new master Hsi's predicament<Input>
<Input>New Programming: Conduct Changed, free-will simulator activated.<Input>
<Diagnosis>
<Computing>...<Computing>...<Computing>
All systems operational, powering up.

~*~

"Oh dear," A1-B6 mentioned, getting a view of its surroundings, and then focusing on Hsi, "Master, where am I?"

"You are in a Hutt's workshop."

"What a dreadful situation."

Hsi nodded, "You need to use wit and cunning to escape and get to my shop, I've uploaded a map-"

"Its so crudely drawn!"

"Shh!" Hsi hissed, trying to be quiet, "Accurate enough. Go, you have your orders."

"Yes, Master."

With that, A1-B6 shuffled his way out the door, getting passed the guard without any questioning; moron. While it was not abnormal to see droids pass in and out of the workshop, the guard -should- have noticed that this droid had never entered this day. It had been here a long time. Oh well, Hsi was perfectly satisfied with the stupidity of his captors.

[Casual]

"T3-M6?"

The summons caught him entirely off-guard. Who would know, or even want him? Had word spread of his misdeeds? The mechanical cognition of this tickled his fancy in a peculiar way. It was as if his adventures had made some influence, or, more likely, his prowess with security and computers had reached their ears. He was the best after all.

"We're looking for you, and a Jawa weaponsmaster. Do you know anything of him?"

T3 had seen a very curious Jawa not long ago that might have fit the description of a weaponsmaster, based on the copious cases he carried with him, but the direction escaped him, he had stored it in a short term memory bank, and thus the knowledge of such a thing was but a blur.

Breep bloop ba breep bloop.
(I do not know of any Jawas I'm afraid.)

He had paused before answering, uncertain as to whether this was in fact the Jawa they were looking for. Heck, he wasn't even sure he was the droid they were looking for.

[avoim]

“Docking permission granted… Have a nice Stay on Tatooine Master Betulia.” Was the voice Nicholas heard over the comm. System as he entered the atmosphere of this backwater planet named Tattooine. Nicholas hated coming here, it was too hot for his tastes and the dust didn’t help, always getting in his eyes. Nicholas set down in Mos Eisley one of the most well known locals of the planet and hopped out of his fighter.

The Trip had been long and boring, he was in a Jedi Trance for the greater part of it, since his ship didn’t come with a Hyper Drive and the only thing that helped him was the fact that closer to the end, he found a local ship carrier headed to the Tatooine system and they helped him. Once Nicholas was out of his ship he felt the presence that brought him to the planet, the Dark Side taint was here, and as a Jedi it was his job to cleanse it from this little planet.

Nicholas then headed to the nearest Cantina and started asking if anyone had seen any strange people recently with a weapon like his, to which he’d then point to his Lightsaber, and the response was always no or that they don’t know, or “Get out of my kriffing way human”. After a while Nicholas decided to take a break and ordered himself a drink.

[Karl the Unfettered]

"No Jawas?" Shard asked, perfectly able to understand T3's electronic blathering. "Hmm, that's no good. We'll have to look around." Accordingly he looked around, as if expecting to see a Jawa leap out of thin air; when no such thing happened he was unfazed, in fact he smirked slightly. "That makes things a little harder, is all. We'll have to search for our new friend..."

About then the other droid ambled up, on its way to Hsi's shop. "T3-M6?" it asked, recognizing the little droid. "Hsi is in trouble, you must-!"

"Hsi?" Shard demanded, whirling on A1. "Droid! State your designation and current protocols, post-haste!"

"Designation: A1-B6. Current Mission: Locate Master Hsi Asmae's shop and inform clients of his predicament," the droid replied, bowing before Shard's commanding presense.

"Damn," Shard muttered, "it got easy again." He tapped his foot impatiently, then shook his head. "Alright, fine. A1-B6, you have new orders. Escort-"

And then he felt it.

Jedi.

"...escort T3, Looma, and Visari to your master's location," he went on, indicating each being in turn. "Assist them in freeing him at all costs. I have... other business to attend to." He glanced at Visari, nodding slightly. "You sensed the new arrival, did you not?" he communicated, excluding the others.

"I will go deal with that," he went on. "I would ask that you accompany the others, make sure this gets done. Do not interfere directly unless absolutely necessary, however; this should prove a test of Miss Looma's abilities, and of what I have taught her so far, as well as a chance for our new droid to prove himself. For you or I it would be far, far too easy; a Hutt and his thugs are no match for us. If they get in trouble, do what you can; otherwise observe, and remain placid. I will contact you when I am able."

With that he nodded at the others, and strode off in the direction of the Jedi. In his dark robes, with those goggles over his eyes, he didn't look like much; his weapons were concealed, as was his presense and aura within the Force. However, as he drew nigh to the cantina where Betulia drank, he let his power shine through, very briefly, just enough to get the Jedi's attention and possibly get the others to look up. Then he closed down on himself again, and stopped before going inside; instead he leaned against the opposite wall, facing the door, waiting to see what would happen.

[Rugs]

Well, things could certainly be worse. The little utility droid was exactly the one they were looking for. But, as it was, it seemed they'd have to do a bit of searching around to find the Jawa. Well, as much as one could call being led to the location 'searching,' anyway. So, they'd all go with the droid, get the Jawa, and, presumably, leave all of that blasted sand behind. Or, that was what the plan was before the newcomer arrived.

Whoever the new arrival was, they weren't very good at hiding their presence. Of course, perhaps they weren't trying to; after all, where the odds of running into a herd of Sith on a backwater world like Tatooine? But, the presence, which was the sort that could only belong to a Jedi, did not escape Visari's notice. His striking green eyes flicked up to follow the descent of a lone fighter down to the surface of the sand planet before he grunted to himself. "Fancy that," he muttered.

His Miraluka companion also noticed, as Visari expected. "Aye, I'll keep an eye on her," he relayed back. Surely, it wouldn't be too difficult. Looma seemed to be the capable sort. Visari glanced at the young Twi'lek before looking back to Shard. "She'll do fine, I'm sure. But do try to be gentle on our guest. Or at least try to figure out why they're here before you break them." Visari was rather curious into the reasons a Jedi might have for coming out to Tatooine, given that there was very little of value on the world. Then again, they did have a way of sticking their noses where they didn't belong.

Shard moved to take care of the newcomer, and Visari turned to Looma and T3. "Well, then, Looma," he said, nodding his head to her slightly in, "shall we head out? I'd like to be away from all of this dust before nightfall, if at all possible."

[Mara]

Rather ashamedly, Looma had to admit that she had allowed her mind to wander as Shard was speaking to the droid about some other being that he was looking for. But in her defense there was so much to look at around them. Beings and creatures of all kinds walking back and forth from building to building. She couldn't tell whether they were near an actual city or just some kind of settlement or outpost, but there was definitely a lot of activity. The yellow Twi'lek hadn't really gotten to travel much in her short life of just less than 18 years, spending her time on less than five different planets. Though, she was new to her master, as an apprentice, she could just feel that she would get to see a lot more, instead of being stuck on Korriban like some of the new Sith.

She was so unfocused, her attention elsewhere, that she almost didn't hear it when her master's tone changed, addressing her and the others with them, instead of the droid he had been interrogating. Quickly she rotated her violet eyes back to Shard's masked face to listen to him. Perhaps they were ready to leave this place already, him having gotten the information he had sought after. Looma would be sad to see Tatooine go; though it was hot and dry and dusty, it had a certain resemblance to her home planet, of what she could remember before leaving at the age of 4.

Before she could find out, though, Shard stopped mid-sentence. She could almost feel her master focusing on something but couldn't tell what. Either way, something was definitely out of balance. Looma had the idea that he had spotted something with the Force, something about the way he was standing, looking with his unseeing eyes, and so she drew on the Force as well. She felt no danger, though, just uneasiness emanating from Shard. Or was it something else... curiosity?

Whatever it was, the pause ended just as quickly as it had started, and her master continued on with his instructions. A little curious herself about what had momentarily distracted Shard, Looma took an extra second before turning her full attention on his words, dropping down her Force presence again. Having zoned out earlier, she wasn't sure exactly what she and Visari were going to be doing, and with that droid, no less. She just assumed it was to find the being that Shard had been questioning the droid about moments earlier. What or who he was, she didn't know. Or why, in fact. But she would follow her orders.

Looma watched her master walk away then, after pausing for a long minute or two again, presumably after whatever had caught his attention. She wished to go with him; she had just become his student and to be left back without him... No, Shard was not like the Jedi. She had to trust him, trust he knew what he was doing. Perhaps it was all a ruse to test her.

With a bit of fresh resolve, thinking that in some strange way she could be right about her theory, she focused back on Visari and the droid, on the mission ahead. She nodded at the older man in response to his question, her headtails bobbing slightly against her shoulders. "Yes, let's go find this.... guy." Looma felt fairly safe in her answer; it was generic enough. Plus she shared Visari's motive in wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. For her, though, it was not to leave Tatooine, but to join her master when able.

[Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice*]

"It's hotter than usual today." The Devironian named Daxin complained, his body leaned back into the metallic doors of the Hutt's palace, his holstered blaster clicking against it as he shifted his weight.

The two Gammoreans next to snorted in agreement, one of them smacking the other in the arm and saying something in their native tongue. The two broke of into a chortle, and Daxin rolled his eyes. Pigs. The joke was probably about food or Daxin. Or both, a thought which almost made Daxin shiver. He suppressed that urge, not willing to show weakness to the other two. Hutt's didn't really care about their guards, these Gammorreans could probably rip him to pieces and his employer would laugh.

He'd gotten stuck today, as he had all week, on the front door duty. It was a hot, dreary assignment and nobody liked it. Good-thing nobody was stupid enough to actually attack a Hutt's palace, or the danger might not make it even worth the pay. Luckily, he didn't sense anything wrong today. Nobody was attacking. No Hutt's currently had the power to try a direct assault. No fool would be dumb enough to take them out right up-front either, right? He certainly hoped so.

All Daxin wanted to do was go home so that he could sleep.

[avoim]

Master Betulia felt a slight ping of Dark Side aura, he shifted his eyes around to see what he could see within his normal and peripheral vision. He of course didn’t see anything, he then expanded his force presence to allow him to feel the beings in and around the Cantina, of course it was mostly dark feelings but one stood out for a brief second. Just when his drink arrived and he paid the bartender and drank his drink. He then walked outside and dropped his hand to his side where his Lightsaber was hidden behind his coat side.

“Hello, I am assuming you’re the darkside taint on this planet?” Nicholas didn’t take his eyes off the man, he assumed he might be a former Jedi at least by the way he held himself he was a adept at fighting Jedi at least. Nicholas also put his left hand on the sheath of his Vibroblade.

[Karl the Unfettered]

Oh hell... is that the best you can do, Jedi? Say "hello" and assume the painfully obvious? Shard thought to himself as Nicholas walked over. "You'd be a Jedi, then," he allowed placidly, his arms crossed at his chest, no indication of any weapon save a fine Echani saber and a pistol; not even any sign of the Force about this black-garbed fellow. "You rather failed to hide your blade there, if that was your intention," and he nodded at where the Jedi's lightsaber lurked. "But that's alright; it takes more than a coat to hide things from my eyes."

He got up from the wall and stepped forward, once, twice, to stand about two yards from the Jedi. "But now... dark side taint, you said?" and he canted his head quizzically to the side, confusion evident in his masterful voice. "What possible reason would a, ah, what are th- a Dark Jedi, that's the word! What would a Dark Jedi, of all people, want with a pestilent hole like Tatooine!" He waved a gloved hand about them, at the sand and the buildings and the sand (and the sand... oh! and the sand! ...did I mention the sand?)

"For that matter what's a Jedi want with it either?" and his voice became inquiring, if very slightly condescending. "Your vaunted Republic has no influence here, Jedi; your kind don't belong." He turned his back on Betulia and walked several steps away down the street. "So how about you turn around, get back on that shuttle, and take off back where you came from?" he called over his shoulder, pausing.

Without warning he whirled about, the silenced gun in his hand; it made no sound at all as the Miraluka fired, right for Nicholas' chest. There had been no warning in the Force for him to react to, and Shard had spun too quickly for more mundane methods of forewarning. In addition, bullets could not be simply deflected like blaster shots could; their solid components would only shatter and turn into molten shrapnel upon contacting a lightsaber blade, potentially endangering innocent bystanders.