Thou Dost Protest Too Much

[Kella]

3606 BBY. Namore. Sector L-13. The Colonies.

Master Roq Nd'ath'terrain'akai rose and stretched his long, supple spine. The stretch extended into the taloned toes of his forelegs and hindlegs, and into the habitual rustle of his wings as he rearranged them. A nod and a few words of thanks were offered to the ship's pilot as he stepped down the ramp, into the broad bustle of the spaceport.

A few rays of sunlight filtered down from the panoramic windows above, which comprised most of the ceiling. As was usually the case, the Graarl seemed like the object of a 'Which one of these is not like the others' game. He was covered in scales of varying sizes, each a shade of gray. The broader, banded scales of his stomach were lighter, smoother, and caught the light with the slightest hint of a pearlescent blue. Large, stone-gray eyes, flecked with black, observed the world keenly from behind a large, serrated beak. Two fin-like frills sprouted from the base of his skull, extensions of his moderately heavy brow, and they piqued with interest as Roq allowed the spaceport's bustling noise to soak into him.

There was no reason to dawdle, and Roq began to make his way across the spaceport, hassled with little more than a few stray whispers. He appeared almost as a predatory beast, muscles dense and formidable, as tall at the shoulder as an average man's hip, and much longer than the same man's height. Even so, it seemed that Roq conducted himself in sentient enough of a manner to quell most of the initial anxieties of those around him.

The edge of the spaceport's shadow passed over him, throwing the Jedi into a bath of radiant sunshine. It was midday, and the heat was pleasant, rather than overwhelming. An open square lay before him, ringed by radiating streets and the buildings and businesses of a bustling trade city. The architecture was a blend of the classical and practical, to give a bit of allure to the visitors, but to serve as a practical center of business for the largely agricultural planet.

In the center of a square was a fountain so grand it was impossible to miss. Whether one loved or hated the tiered marble construct, one could not ignore it. It glistened white with a touch of coral. The bottom tier was alive with the leaping and splashing of playful sea creatures, frozen in their play as if caught in time. Above them galloped the wild counterparts of Namore's agricultural beasts, themselves surmounted by the forms of grand birds of prey. Finally, the fountain was crowned with the family crest of Namore's chief governing body. Nearly everything in Namore was ruled by large families, roles and places tracing back for generation upon generation. In fact, this had been a contributing factor in the need for Jedi intervention.

Roq settled back on his haunches, the marble of the fountain's lower basin cool against his back, letting the broad warm colors of the square soak into his eyes, like bold strokes of a paintbrush. He was not an idle Jedi, however, and so part of his mind was always occupied with repeating the information of this mission (He had been briefed fully before arrival on Namore, to save time) so as to not let it fall prey to the spotty nature of his species' short-term memory. Roq mused over the fact that the Vis Veres family had responded so vehemently to the Namore Authorities' requests for information, there was no doubt whatsoever that they were entangled in some sort of devilry. Finding out what this something was, and stopping it, if it was harmful, comprised the Jedi's mission.

The unavoidable nature of the fountain made it a spectacular meeting place, and that was exactly the use for which Roq was employing it. He had been told to expect two other Jedi, but who they would be, Roq did not know. Ever one to enjoy life's small pleasures, Roq allowed the mystery to intrigue him, preventing himself from speculating too much so as to ruin the surprise.

[Regnier]

"Um...Master?"

"Yes?"

"Could...could you...slow down a bit?"

"I'd prefer to be there as soon as possible."

"O-okay then...maybe you could...you know...open your eyes, at least?"

"That is unnecessary, Xome." Letting his giant fingers run through the distinctly complex flight controls of the insectoid Delaya-class courier burning its way through Namore's atmosphere at it maximum safe entry velocity, which was considerable, Jedi Knight Vakkor grinned to himself at his Padawan's audible trembling. She'd always been fascinated with the stars and space travel, but not when Regnier was flying. He'd made Corellians queasy before. The rapidly approaching planet was not doing much for the Falleen's nerves, as evidenced by her death grip on the bulkhead. Forcing her hand open, she pressed a button on the communicator beside her, letting a call, undoubtedly from the spaceport's flight control, through.

"Red Dawn, this is Nam-"

"Yes, I know- going too fast, trajectory too...too steep. Believe me, I know. I'm flying with a m-madman up here."

"Dawn, I highly recommend your pilot slows down and pulls up."

"So do I."

Regnier grunted and muttered something about trying to concentrate. With a few simple movements, he shut off more than half of his engines, rotating their servo-mounts individually by varied degrees. "You're afraid, Padawan."

"...oh, I get it. You're an ev-evil human, you know that? There are better ways to...teach. Certainly safer ones."

"You shouldn't fear death. If anything, it should fear you. Stop stuttering, close your eyes, and steady your breathing. Fear will only-"

"I know. I know. I'm trying, alright?" Closing her eyes, the Falleen inhaled deeply, knowing full well that he was right. Extreme as his methods were, they were effective. Regnier taught through example. He was more than confident in himself and his ship, but even were he not, she knew all too well he had no fear of death, or anything else she'd seen. He had never, and would never, ask something of her he couldn't himself do, unless he knew she was capable of it. "I'm trying, Master."

"Red Dawn, pull-"

"In a second."

He was sneaky, too. She had barely steadied her breathing when, in rapid succession, the offline thrusters snapped to life, throttles quickly building up to their maximum output as their mounts smoothly pivoted to precise angles under experienced hands. The ship's nose kicked up until the entire body paused at a nearly perfect 135 degree angle. Thrusters burning hot, the tail of the ship stopped barely a hundred feet from the ground, the Delaya's momentum transferring downward to forward. The ship groaned and the Falleen was pressed into her seat under the G-forces, her eyes snapping open as her organs attempted to move downward. As smoothly and quickly as the Dawn had flipped its nose in the air, it leveled out with the terrain, servo-mounted thrusters moving to accomplish this seamlessly as the ship's momentum shifted. Regnier halved his throttles, but remained fairly close to the terrain. On a bad day, the Red Dawn could keep pace with most stock starfighters, even with its size and mass. As he had all of his thrusters at his disposal, this was not a bad day.

"Dawn...you're insane."

"Yes...yes he is."

Regnier raised a hand off one of the controls and held it up. "Jedi."

"Same thing."

"That said...you're clear to land at Bay 13B. And I'm buying your pilot a drink."

"I need a drink, not him."

-----

Xome slowly pushed herself out of the seat in the back of the cockpit, paused, and quickly sat back down again to keep from falling over sideways. Regnier patted her on the shoulder gently as he walked past into the main body of the ship. "Stay here until you get your legs back. Stick to the area, though, once you do, and keep your communicator on. Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone, and don't piss off the locals."

"So, basically...don't do anything you'd do."

"Pretty much. Do as I say-"

"-not as you do."

The giant chuckled softly as he strapped his things on. It was good she'd caught on to that quickly. She'd make a fine Guardian in time, but no matter her skill, she'd never be capable of doing some things the way he did. Few among the Order could, for few possessed the immense strength and constitution he did. Pulling his hood over his head as the boarding ramp lowered, Regnier clasped his hands behind his back, letting the light wash over him as he stood at the top, illuminating the lower half of his face and what little of his massive form his deep green cloak did not cover. The armored plating visible from outside the cloak did not particularly help him appear any less threatening, but...that was not such a bad thing, from his perspective. Giant, mysteriously cloaked individuals wearing durasteel and grim countenances were usually left alone. Self-preservation and whatnot.

After settling the docking and fueling fees, he set out for the city, making excellent time through the flowing crowds, thanks to the intelligence of most species. When something as large as he moved, most tended to get out of his way. Those that didn't...well, they really didn't slow him down any, either. At most, there were a few curses here and there, but no hostilities were pursued. Again, self-preservation and all that.

Coming out of the spaceport, the Knight didn't even slow to take in the scenery for anything other than to be aware of his surroundings. The central fountain was, well...obvious, he gave it that much. A little excessive, in his mind, but, then again, the only art he really appreciated was far more...practical. Not as widely appreciated as things such as architecture, however. But it was why he was here. He wasn't the greatest negotiator, at least not when the negotiations required tact, and neither was he any great investigator. No, that was more for the other Jedi sent to handle; he was the muscle here, plain and simple, sent because the Council knew all too well that this situation could easily get out of hand, and even if it didn't, there were certain things that a strong arm could accomplish better than a strong connection to the Force.

It was rather easy to spot what, or more specifically who, he was looking for, made easier by the fact that the Knight's head was above the crowds he moved through, as well as by the Graarl's positioning by the aforementioned fountain. Primarily, however, spotting the Graarl Jedi Master was a simple task because of the fact that he was a Graarl. Not exactly the most common sight in the Galaxy. Pressing through the crowd, Regnier approached the fountain at a steady pace, pushing his hood back and letting it hang against his back, letting the light cover his squared, clean-cut features and reflect of hazel eyes as he looked up, scanning the skyline out of reflex. As his hands were beneath the formed hide gloves he wore, his face bore the marks of a warrior, earned through years of dedicated training in the arts of combat and numerous hostile encounters.

Stopping as he reached speaking distance, he inclined his head in respect to the Jedi Master. "Master Roq Nd'ath'terrain'akai. You'll have to forgive me if I butchered that; my sister is the linguist, I'm just the brute of the family." Raising his head again, Regnier let his hands fall to his side and hang loosely, yet deceptively tensed as always. He kept his tone level and somber, his natural bass nearly scraping the bottom of the barrel, neither quiet nor loud, but with just enough volume to be clearly understood. "I am Knight Regnier Vakkor, Guardian. I am at your disposal, Master Jedi, as per the Council's wishes, as is my Padawan, as per mine."

[Jace]

Lord Vis Vires sat rather contently in the manor's study. He spent the majority of his time here, surrounded by his many novels and luxuries. Afterall, he was the premier figure on Namore, why should he not live in such luxury? He was the Lord Vis Vires, essentially the ruler of Namore.

It is only a matter of time until that title becomes official

Wearing a rare grin, he continued with his daily work. Contrary to popular belief, Vis was quite involved in his business. It was mostly because he wasn't a trusting man. If he left them to their own devices, they would probably be siphoning off money from him left and right. His concerns were not without foundation though. It had happened before, and he had made an example of them, and it had never happened again.

Fear was without a doubt, the strongest motivator in the universe. Vis was not some naive arrogant....well not naive in thinking he was righteous in his methods. He was a narcissistic, sometimes cruel, and overall bad person. The fact of the matter was that bad got him to where he was. He didn't care for all that pure of heart stuff, it was a load of bantha fodder. They were living off scraps, and he basically ran a planet. As far as he was concerned being 'bad' was the way to go. Vis was interrupted before he could go on a trip down memory lane as there was a buzz on his comm.

"What is it?" He asked in a rather irritated tone. The Lord of the manor did not like to be disturbed.

"Forgive me sir, but we may have a problem"

"Then deal with it" he responded

"Sir, this is something you might want to look into personally"

He let out a sigh and then said "Fine, come in"

The door slid open and one of his personal aides stepped in and approached the desk. He had worked with Vis long enough to be unnerved by him anymore. He was a hard worker and loyal, and even someone like Vires could appreciate that.

"So what is it?" He asked without looking up

"Sir, it seems that two Jedi have landed only an hour ago." the aide responded calmly. That got Vis' attention. Jedi. They were problematic to say the least. He could deal with the local authorities but even he was not arrogant enough to deny they were formidable. There was no doubt that their presence here was a coincidence, he didn't believe in coincidence...only opportunity and cost. Fortunately, their arrival had not been neglected from his calculations, he had contingencies in place.

"Send for the captain"

Things were about to get interesting.

[Dire Wolf]

A small smile tugged the corner of Rhissai's lips upwards as she gazed at the marvelous example of civil engineering. The woman simply adored the arts. Singing, dancing, painting, sculpting, and everything in between. Though something told her it wasn't particularly Jedi-like to find solace in such great constructs, she did so anyways. The Aphithiri had instilled that sort of free spirit and appreciation of the arts into her, the latter being somewhat surprising... considering the fact that they were considered barbaric by people who saw with outsider's eyes.

Slowly and without that feline stride of deliberate precision, the woman walked out to the great marble fountain and sat on its edge. Rhiss didn't care who else or what else was there, or even why. None of it truly mattered in the broad scheme of things. Her soft hand dipped down into water and simply enjoyed the cool flow of the current around it.

It was only until she reminded herself why she was on Namore that she noticed one of the Jedi that she'd seen around the temple. For the life of her, she couldn't remember the quadruped's name... which was infuriating, considering the fact that he was actually one of a kind. Little did she know, she missed it while her mind was off playing with the water. The jedi was being talked to by a simply... massive... brute of a man. Presumably the second Jedi that was to be assigned to the mission. One that she would think twice about crossing.

Her attire wasn't that of the Jedi Order, but rather the type that a commoner would wear. Rhiss also made it a point to conceal her lightsaber within a pouch on her hip. It could be retrieved and activated before the attacker could blink. There was no point in simply announcing the fact that she was a Jedi Master. That much would probably actually prove to be counter productive. "At least those tattoos are covered, girl." She shuddered, double checking those tribal sleeves to make sure that they were, in fact, fully covered. They were. She'd worn gloves to make sure of that much.

"Hello," the quadroped's name came to her, "Master Roq. Knight..." Rhissai fought back a blush as she forced her mind to produce the man's name from the "didn't pay attention" part of her brain. "Vakkor. I am Master Rhissai'arckan. Rhiss or Rhissai for short. I don't care which."

Titles made Rhissai's skin crawl. They made her feel like she was some sort of haughty high class woman who put more weight on accolades than on the actual person. Yet another thing that the Aphithiri instilled in her. About five years of people calling you "General Rhissai'arckan'lyssah'archria Clan Fire bird" (translated loosely ; P) tended to do that to a person.

"Anyone have any ideas?"

[Kella]

Roq watched subtly as the human Jedi approached, his identity as the second Jedi revealed through a slight tickling in the Force. Though Vakkor appeared racially to be a human, he was a testament to the upper limits of the species' physiology. With a frame that extended seven feet vertically, and was probably made square by the horizontal span of his outreached arms, the biped towered above Roq. They probably had an approximately similar muscle mass. However, Roq, who had long outgrown intimidation and comparison, was content in knowing that come Hell or High Water, the trio of Jedi would have a significant physical presence.

"Master Roq Nd'ath'terrain'akai," he said as he approached. His voice was deep and resonant, like stone, deep beneath the earth, with enough impact, that it did not have to compensate with volume. It was a feature of not for the auditorially inclined Graarl. "You'll have to forgive me if I butchered that; my sister is the linguist, I'm just the brute of the family. I am Knight Regnier Vakkor, Guardian. I am at your disposal, Master Jedi, as per the Council's wishes, as is my Padawan, as per mine."

"Oh, you're quite forgiven," Roq said, referencing the pronunciation. His own voice was rich and full, warm and refreshing at the same time, with a bit of zest flicking up the ends of some choice words. "I appreciate the attempt, if nothing more. Welcome to Namore! Your Padawan would make a happy addition, if you do so chose to bring them along."

Though reading the demeanor of the Graarl could be difficult at first, once one connected him to a large, scaled dog -- or perhaps even a large, scaled puppy -- interpreting the quadruped -- both in appearance, and manner -- grew much easier. There was a glint of fun that never seemed to leave his eye when all was well, and even sometimes when it wasn't.

Roq felt another presence in the Force, and it soon echoed with the sound of footsteps to his right, to which Roq drew his head. The third Jedi, or simply one of the three, as order mattered little now. She was of a relatively average height, dark hair and bright eyes, near human, but, by the subtlest of indications... not quite.

"Hello," she began, in a voice that was clear, with a delicate handling of the vowels, so as to give the words the quality of song. "Master Roq. Knight... Vakkor. I am Master Rhissai'arckan. Rhiss or Rhissai for short. I don't care which."

"It's well to meet you, Rhiss," said Roq, inclining his head once more in greeting. His voice, rich though it was, almost seemed to come from nowhere. Graarls, as a species, possessed an amazingly complex vocal structure. The muscles and tendons, backed by two vast bellows of longs, could produce nearly any sound, natural or otherwise, with only minimal shaping by the tongue. So, by the time the words were to pour from his beak, the serrated muzzle moved only minimally. It could be disconcerting, as he had no lips to read, but his throat warbled and vibrated with the words, and, like a ventriloquist, his secret was easily observed.

"Anyone have any ideas?" she asked.

"Oh, I have plenty of ideas," Roq said, "But figuring out which ones pertain to the matter at hand is the challenge. Now, we've already been briefed on all the easily available information... And oftentimes, the best way to learn about a conflict, is to experience that conflict oneself. And, the conflict seems to arise, when persons attempt to enter the Vis Vires' property. Soooo," Roq pondered, "Shall we head in that direction, for that purpose? To incite a little trouble?"

Roq's regarded his two companions with a twinkle in his eye.

[Regnier]

The brute nodded, noting the warmth to the Jedi Master's voice, and contemplating how it reminded him of the way Kellick had used to sound when they were young. But...they'd both grown up so much since then. Perhaps for the best, perhaps not, but a part of him still missed those times. He was what he needed to be, not what he wanted to be, and that would have to do. He wasn't doing this for himself, after all.

"Very well, I'll ask her along. She could use the experience." Turning his head slightly, he raised a hand to the side of his head, pushing beneath his head, and activated his earpiece. "Xome?"

No answer.

Regnier rolled his eyes slowly, a low, irritated groan escaping his lips. Pulling the earpiece out and holding it away from his head, he tweaked one of the small controls, causing a sharp squeal of static to rise from the device. Resetting the control, he casually placed the earpiece back and waited a few seconds for the cursing to stop. "Xome?"

"...ow."

"I hope it was a good dream."

"You...are not a nice man."

"'Good' does not require 'nice'. Master Roq said you can come along, so collect your things, lock the ship, and meet us in the town square, large fountain. Hard to miss."

Soon enough, another approached the two, one who was considerably more difficult to paint as a Jedi than he. Truth be told, he only knew as soon as he did because he recognized her rather quickly; not from any personal acquaintance, really, he would not say he knew her personally, but he had a very good memory and was very good with details. Part of his skill with a blade came from it. Regnier bowed slightly again as the second Jedi Master introduced herself, confirming what he already knew. "Good afternoon, M-" Catching himself, he stopped. Regnier was perhaps not the most refined creature, easily classed a rather rough, but he was still a very respectful, if not somewhat formal man at his base, beneath everything else. But if she desired not to be referred to by title, he would respect her wishes. "Rhissai. A pleasure."

It wasn't long, nee but a few seconds after Rhissai has asked their thoughts when his senses prickled slightly. A familiar presence was drawing near. Rapidly. Turning his head, he easily spotted the source over the heads of the crowd, making a beeline for him. Eventually, the sounds of curses, blurted apologies, and more curses reached his ears. Folding his massive arms across his chest, he waited, counting to himself. "Master Roq, Rhissai, may I introduce-" Bursting through the last of the crowd, the Falleen froze, her expression turning from nigh giddy to sheepish before her traditional robes had time to settle. If a reptile could blush, she would have. "-Padawan Xome Zezat, my apprentice."

A large hand, sporting two small adhesive bandages at the base of his middle finger and end of his pinky, skin cracked, calloused, and scarred from years spent training himself and others rose from the darkness of his cloak, setting itself on the Padawan's shoulder and pulling her close. Most easily spotted was the line left from a blade that had nearly taken the lowest portion of his hand clean off and had prevented him from using his arm for a week. He leaned down, whispering in her ear the names of the two other Jedi, before pulling away once again to the folds of his cloak.

"Masters, it's an honor." She said with a bow, obviously far more happy to be here than her master. Which wasn't hard. Regnier hadn't been described happy in a very long time. He was...somber. Besides, Xome could smile large enough for the both of them, and frequently did.

For once, however, a faint grin creased Regnier's lips as Roq suggested heading to the Vires estate. It wasn't particularly one of joy, however...rather, it was borderline disturbing. He was, albeit refutably, a good man, and certainly one who followed the Code, but still...he excelled at causing trouble, even amongst Jedi. Unlike Rhissai, he was in no way concealing that he was a very dangerous man, someone not to be taken lightly. Directness was his ally...presence was his ally. Subtlety and him were not close friends. "You're speaking my language, Master Roq. Trouble is my specialty. Even the kind where nobody dies. I say we test the water...with a very large rock."

[Dire Wolf]

(soz for the length of time waiting and the shoddy quality of the post. Just found out that it was my turn laik a few days ago. >< )

Rhissai couldn't help the light smirk that crept across her lips at Roq's ventriloquistic reply. It was strange indeed, but she'd seen considerably weirder in her fifty years with the Jedi Order. Her eyes twinkled all the same. Padawans: the woman loved them. Each one reminded her of her younger days, the ones that didn't involve marvelous amounts of guilt and self loathing. That little twinkle in her eye and the slight smile melted away into a mask of stoicism as the memories of her fall to the dark side surfaced again.

"Well met, Xome," her greeting was short but kind, and even coupled with a small forced smile. Rhiss always found it hard to smile so shortly after remembering the hurt she'd caused the family of the crime lord that killed her first padawan.

She offered the scaled griffon a curt nod to his second comment, and a light snicker at Regnier's reply to it. Her response seemed to be carefully said, though it had the quality of song, "so long as I can be the one throwing the rock, sure. Shall we?" With that, the raven maned woman turned and started off towards the the Vires estate.

The woman couldn't help but mull on the events of her past, and she couldn't help but shake the image of her hand strangling a young child. The knowledge that her other hand was bisecting an innocent woman that was simply trying to save her son. Rhissai held the tears behind a sad but otherwise almost perfectly stoic mask.

It wasn't long before Rhissai found herself at the front gates of the estate. Dressed in commoner garb, no less. Her emerald gaze turned back to one of the other Jedi with the, "help here?" expression writtin about it.

Subtlety was Rhissai's friend... usually. Sometimes it could be a real pain in the arse.

[Shotgun Yell]

It was nearly mid-day when Leto’s starship entered the atmosphere of the prosperous planet of Namore. Hundreds of acres of farm land greeted the Mandolorian, who just shrugged it off and scanned for the landing patch that he’d no doubt have to find. Mr. Vires wouldn’t like it at all if the ship touched down on a plot of farm, crushing his crops and taking away from his profit. Not that Leto was particularly worried about any repercussions; he just wanted a piece of Mr. Vires’ fortune for himself. A man has to eat, right?

A crackle over the comm. asked him for his specifications, like his name and his ship’s number and what his purpose on the planet was. No doubt these clearances were being given by Vis Vires’ men, so Leto just answered them to the best of his ability. When questioned about his presence he simply stated his business was requested, and that was it as the main estate of the wealthy and well known family name came into view, a landing area cleared out nearby as per Leto’s request. Not one to want to showcase his Mandolorian presence, he brought the vessel down and killed the ignition to the engines, letting the sounds of the craft die down into nothing before rising up from his pilot’s seat. Before him lay the main building of the estate, a picturesque rendering of what Leto thought of when he envisioned rich land owners, with golden stucco siding and a front with multiple massive pillars. Balconies seemed to stem from everywhere aside from the first floor, and the rooftops were constructed of some kind of orange/red ceramic plating, all convex from his perspective. Honestly it looked like they might all slide down and off the roof given the smallest rumble or jolt.

Camera’s on the nose of the craft registered three men approaching, all armed and all looking like lackies of a rich man, so Leto (who was already suited save for his helmet) slipped his C6K rifle across his back, and attached his new EDF-X shotgun to the harness on his chest before proceeding to the exit ramp and lowering it down to the ground. Tiberius and Gunny stood alongside him, guns at the ready in case these men meant a business contrary to what Leto had been told. The three men were already standing a few feet away, carefully watching as the Mando made his way down the ramp (without his droids) and stood silent before them, but before a word was spoken the one in the middle motioned for him to follow, and then led him towards the estate.

At the office Leto was told to wait by who he could only assume was Mr. Vires’ head lacky as he adorned no weaponry and wore an expensive (at least to Leto) looking suit. Glasses and a mess of blonde hair filled out the common look of some sort of secretary, and considering he was sitting at a desk before a large double door entrance…there was no doubt who this man was. “Mr. Vires?” He asked the nearby comm., and waited patiently for a reply.

[Kella]

Introductions and initial protocol completed, the Jedi were on their way.

The Graarl's held no particular preference for flying over walking, or vice versa, as each presented something unique to the situation. In the air, one could see all. But, on the ground, one could feel all, through the vibrations in the soil and rock, the low, dense air. 'All' being 'most', of course, as no Jedi was omniscient.

So he walked, with the other Jedi, along the winding paths, through the farmlands, to the border of the Vis Veres estate. So many prepositions in one sentence, Roq mused. The border hardly represented the end of their walk, however; the estate was vast, and as best as Roq could gather, this road continued for at least a dozen kilometers past the main entrance before reaching the estate mansion.

The gate approached; a tall, broad structure of wrought iron and hewed stone. It was an old construct; Roq could see a faint blush of red where the iron was beginning to rust. The gate was set in a ten foot wall of heavy stone that extended thirty yards in either direction, and then became the faint glow of an energy field, the same height as the stone. The wall too was aged; tear streaks of black sediment were permanently etched in the stone.

An antiquated control pad rested in the stone to the right of the iron gate, silently challenging the trespasser to try the code. Where the two halves of the gate met, heavy iron rods were dropped into matching burrows in the ground. It could be assumed that the same mechanism that swung the gate open, also shifted these rods out of the ground. There was no assumption required to see that the mechanism could not be forced without destroying it.

Roq cocked his head to the side as he noticed something -- neither the stone nor the iron sported any bird droppings, as one would expect of a tall structure in a relatively tree-less area. As there were no visible spikes, or physical deterrents, Roq had to conclude that the surface was rigged with some sort of electric charge.

"This will only take a moment," Roq said. He spread his wings, shaking them gently, flexing them. At first, the pliable cartilage hung a bit limp, but after a moment, the blood drained from it, and the struts hardened, easily bearing the weight of their leathery webbing.

Roq crouched, coiling the massive muscles of his hind legs, and then launched himself in the air, leaping towards the gate. He really didn't have to get himself all the way into flight -- he just had to clear the gate. Three powerful downstrokes gave him the altitude, and once he'd cleared the structure, a tight spiral brought him to the ground again.

He peered through the iron bars, smiling at the other Jedi.

Now, it was a simple matter of fact that passcodes were meant to keep people out -- not to keep them in. Roq skimmed the gate, and then the ground around him, and found what he was looking for. A few feet from the gate, conveniently placed for accessibility from the cockpit of a transport, was a metal pole, topped by a hooded control panel. The panel bore, as suspected, a small yellow button. Its label had once read, 'Press to Exit', but now appeared more like 'Pre xit'. A thousand thumb-prints had worn the letters away where they were close to the button.

Now a talon joined the mix, scraping a flake of yellow paint from the button as it was pressed.

The sound of a motor whirring, and then the dull screech of metal-on-metal filled the air. Roq heard a distant bird flee.

The mechanism extracted the rods from the ground, and the gate swung slowly towards the other three, making open the path.

"Welcome to the Vis Vires estate," Roq announced.

[Regnier]

"Ha. I'd like to see you throw it, Master." Turning her head slightly towards Regnier and cocking an eyebrow slightly, Xome grinned again. "He's a surprisingly effective cannonball."

"Hmph."

"Oh, I know, I know...that was an accident." The Falleen said, emphasizing 'accident' with physical quotation remarks.

Pivoting sharply on his heel to follow the two senior Jedi, his cloak swirling gently, Regnier shook his head slowly. He made no apologies for his supposedly 'excessive' usage of force, but being propelled several hundred feet per second through a squad of armored Trandoshans, three food stands, two bystanders, and nearly into a durasteel wall was not something he considered a tactically sound idea. Sure, it had worked, and he hoped Kellick was very proud of herself for both the planning and execution, but next time...ah, who was he kidding? He'd probably do it again. Hopefully he'd have enough forewarning to go feet-first next time, however. He had enough aches and knots and whatnot in his upper-body as was.

The long walk did a little to work out the general discomfort left from the long flight, but still the dull aches remained. A body having suffered as much physical damage as his across the years tended to never fully let up. Something always hurt, sometimes just a few places, sometimes many, sometimes just a little, sometimes a lot. It came with the job, really, a hazard for his aggressive and very physical tactics, but spaceflight was considerably worse for him than most; most of the time, he had to get up and walk around ever few hours. But he bore it all the same as he always did, silent and unaffected. Stoicism was, after all, one of his defining features.

All the more aggravation for his Padawan. It was almost impossible to get anything out of the man, except some form of violence or 'Told you so'. Honestly, you could probably have the Grandmaster dress up like a clown and pop out of a giant cake, and the most you'd get out of the man would be a comment on the mess. His sense of humor was far too morbid for her taste. Much as hers was simply to prevalent for his. To date, neither of them could think of a single occasion where they'd both been amused at the same time.

Beyond the incident with the taco stand, of course.

Remaining several paces from the other two Jedi for the majority of the journey, Regnier spent most of the time conversing with his apprentice on the artform of personal battle and why he viewed it as he did. He had no specific 'philosophy', so to speak, rather viewing aggression as a tool that could be made to do many things for many purposes when used correctly.

Reading Rhissai's expression upon coming to the gate, Regnier folded his arms across his chest and looked the structure over. He rapidly got the sense that there was some form of security device in place, likely either a shield unit or something akin to an electric supply. He was just done contemplating how to test a theory when Roq spoke up. Standing back, he allowed the Jedi Master to...well, do his thing, for lack of a better analogy. Admittedly, it was considerably more quiet than what he had had in mind. Xome, simply put, was staring, until Regnier cuffed her on his way past, stopping just inside the gate.

"Ow!"

Regnier looked around, ignoring his Padawan's glower. "Nice place. Looks surprisingly like the other side."

"Should've commandeered a transport."

"Nonsense, you could use the exercise."

"And if we need to make a hasty retreat?"

"Then we borrow one from this Vires fellow."

"I'm sure he wont mind at all."

"Not if you do the borrowing.

Continuing past Roq, the lumbering juggernaut took the lead. He didn't anticipate trouble just yet, but neither did he put it past this Vires man, and if it came down to it, true to his colors, Regnier would be up front, first in line. He propensity to walk the front explained several scars, but it was who he was. 'Guardian' was more than just a title for him.

[Dire Wolf]

(two months later...
sorry about this. I would insert excuse, but I think you guys would rather just have your post. xD Its not long... but I think that was my problem. Didn't know what to say. Here goes...)

Rhissai watched the gate silently, and thought about different ways one could get across. One could climb, but she noticed the same small points that Roq did -- it was electrified -- so climbing would likely result in death. Or, at the very least, a fail of epic proportions. The easiest thing to do would be to simply do a Force Leap over the fence and open it from the other side. It was something she could easily do, and--

Roq flew up and over the fence, unlocking it within moments. She blinked. Or her fellow Jedi Master could do it. The woman watched as the gate creaked open, the steel mechanisms groaning in response to Roq's commands. When the gate was fully opened, Rhiss stepped through it and regarded Roq with an interested eye.

"Roq," she said in the most serious tone a Jedi could use, "you'll have to give me a ride on that back of yours while you fly sometime." There was no way in the nine divines of Aphithir that she was serious, but it was amusing as hell to make it sound as if she were. Though a small part of her did enjoy the idea of swooping down on Vires like some sort of Valkyrie was very appealing.