Vil

On 3/13/2017 at 9:51 AM, Razziie said:

@Vil at this time, nothing is going on from an RP perspective. Primarily due to @Qera being on Travel. It was discussed to have this as a weekly or bi-weekly event, but nothing has been set yet. 

 

Bummer okay. Hope it gets going. I'd like to stop in when I get free time. 

Are the cantina nights ongoing? 

Vilak exhaled lightly as the lift came to a stop opening to the movement and noise of Carrick Station, the hub of the Republic Fleet. He stepped from the lift, allowing his senses to drift around him, feeling the force ebb and flow. He half thought each time he arrived here that they would surely learn of ties to the Empire. Vilak had resigned himself to that fate if it happened, but for now, life with the sith and imperials was well behind him. After Arcann and his Eternal Empire had created chaos, he found it easy to distance himself from the Empire. He may have held a position of hierarchy and honor on the battlefield, being a Lord and Commander, never wishing to take the title of Darth, but he was just another alien in the eyes the empire, especially the sith. Walking away had been easier than he thought. He made a home on Tatooine, creating a sanctuary for a number of years. Lately he had felt he call, movement in the force, urging him to play a role. His choice to do what he could for the Republic had proved somewhat simpler than he had first thought. It had been easy enough to get identification created, enough credits helped. And, Vilak had never been swayed by the darkside, even after all the years surrounded by it. Certainly he had done things he was not proud of, but knew above all that he had walked a precarious path surrounded by darkness. And here, people my be suspect due to his red skin, clearly not the faction of Zabrak that long before had given alliance to the Republic, but that could not be helped. He was here, that was what mattered. 

As he walked up the ramp to the inner ring, a scrolling news feed caught his eye. The announcer spoke rapidly, imparting the information:

"And in big news today, the Senate meeting was interrupted when Larial'ana Darklighter Terress, former Jedi Master and acting Alderaanian queen collapsed, attendants were at her side quickly but could not get her to respond. As of now we are told she is in a secure location, but her condition is not very stable. What will this mean for Alderaan? What will this mean for the senate? Larial'ana had her hand in many things, including being one of the generals in charge of the Remnants of Hope, a faction of powerful people from around the galaxy made to help the Republic and the innocent. We will keep you updated with any new news that comes about on this matter."

He remembered well the woman featured in the newfeed and her husband. It had been the strangest meeting that turned into what could be called marriage counseling. That they even took his advice was a wonder to him, being a known sith. But they had nonetheless, whether they stood the test of time together, hard to say. They were quite volatile with each other. The news feed switched to Huttball coverage, leaving him considering the woman, wondering how she had fared before her collapse. If her husband Kota was well. This information about Alderaan was new along with her position as a Jedi Master. Interesting. 

Perhaps a trip to Alderaan was in order. He turned heading back to the lift, making his way to his ship he set course. 

Vilak’s saber hummed as he sliced through another rakghoul, as their numbers thinned. He carefully watched the group as the battle ended, staying silent, observing, ever the hunter to his core. Sometimes it was best to allow events to unfold. The group was an odd mix up. Vilak knew the Jedi Venoor had sensed the balance in him, no the light would be more of the truth. He thought a talk with the Jedi could prove interesting, providing the opportunity presented once the rakghoul threat upon the ship was contained.

He watched then followed as the others moved through a blast hole into a corridor. He followed the woman, Na’tanilia does the hall, through intervening labs, extending his senses far and wide, beginning to feel hints of something dark, something powerful. None of the others surrounding him brought that. The woman looked startled, which he found curious, meaning she had some force sensitivity. Her expletive spoke to some recognition. Curious. 

Vilak stood listening to Kota speak, as the man mentioned marriage counseling. He frowned faintly, remembering the oddness of that day when the man and his wife Larial had somehow turned up on Drummond Kaas. They were not in his home more than a few minutes before the two began arguing. While he was a warrior at heart, he took some pride in his ability to reason, finding balance in the force where as his true sith brethren reached only for the darkness. He had mediated on the battle field but never had he done so in a couples dispute. He shook his head slightly, leaving that day behind, focusing on the situation, allowing his senses to travel outward propelled by the force. He felt the Rhakghouls beyond, the oddness of the situation.

He turned to the Jedi, “yes that is my name. As for why I am here… I am curious if there are any survivors. The nature of this wreck is quite… interesting.  More importantly, my priority is determining who is responsible for this outbreak.”

Paying some attention to the Jedi, Vilak studied the others in the room, the woman he startled with his saber appeared unsettled, worried perhaps. There was something there… in her the way she also watched those in the room, waiting it would seem for their distraction. There was more to learn about this group. He had no idea who they arrived on the ship, if they had crashed with her. All questions he would get answers for while he found the truth about the wreck. The Jedi’s mannerism spoke of trust that was a commodity he could perhaps rely upon in whatever lay ahead. There was no point in splitting from the group as they had an obvious purpose in being aboard the wreck. He intended to study the situation, allowing for interpretation.

Vilak watched the woman catch the Jedi’s attention, stating the flight deck was the place to start. He stood back listening, waiting to hear the response, her assurance about said location raised his interest. 

Vilak lowered his saber point to the floor, watching while others came into the room, including a jedi. The blade still glowed, humming quietly, hilt held securely in his hand. He listened to the conversation around him, considering that the republic seemed to know one another. What had begun a rescue mission had turned into something else entirely. He gave a faint nod to the Jedi, who introduced himself as Venoor before dousing his light saber, stepping into the room. He choose to observe rather than act, watching the dynamic around him, gaging reactions and reaching out with the force, feeling around him.

He gave a faint shake of his head at the absurdity of it all. Here he thought he would find himself alone except for hopeful survivors. It was clear the ship was more than met the eye, granted the rhakghouls provided a good indicator of such. Now with the addition of republic troops and jedi… more information was needed, most likely learned from those gathered. 

Vilak had come in search of survivors after hearing of the crash. Certainly, Hoth had its share of downed ships, but something like this, and the rakhgouls. He had felt their presence the moment he entered the ship. After so much time spent on Taris and handling various rakhgoul infestations, their unsettling presence was like a klaxon blaring in the night. Making his way through the ship, his belief that there could be survivors was diminishing. Shivering slightly as a cold draft hit him, he wished the ship had crashed on a more hospitable planet. Even after all the years away from his home planet of Iridonia, he had no tolerance for cold. Iridonia with its acid water and hot climate still pulled at him. One day he thought he might return, retire there, far from the sith and their darkness. It had been a struggle, all the years with the empire, attempting to hold fast to his principles with the darkness nearly choking him. However, he had risen in power, as a commander on the field, a leader, always in the forefront of battle, which hid his softer side, his feel for the light-side of the force, his belief in balance. Being a Zabrak had given him some latitude as well within the empire. He had been called slave, a lesser being… so his odd ways were tolerated as long as he brought results, which he did, just at times, they were achieved through lighter means.

Vilak continued onward, his blade ignited as another rakhgoul fell at his feet. Lights flickered around him. He had been in ships similar to this before. Considering his options, the communications center would be the first logical step; from there perhaps, he could determine if survivors were alive in other areas of the ship. Corridor after corridor he searched until he reached what he determined was indeed communications. He entered only to hear blaster fire, yelling and four booming explosions, followed by the scent of brunt flesh wafting his way, and a trembling within the ship that told him more trouble lay ahead. Before he could take on his current task, visitors were approaching. He stood quietly near the door, feeling their approach, drawing on the force to slow his breathing, heighten his senses. He ignited his saber, holding it with long trained and tested grace in his quiet hand.

A man accessed the entrance, standing in the doorway of the dimly light room. Lifting his saber, his blade hummed near the man’s forehead with utmost care. He watched calmly as another came up behind the first. She appeared startled by his presence and his blade placed so precariously at her companion’s forehead. Drawing himself up taller he assessed the two, Republic seeming. Interesting. He knew his presence was imposing, using that to his advantage he spoke, voice low with a hint of an imperial accent.

“Neither of you look to be survivors.†He waited before drawing his blade away, its eerie glow adding to the strangeness of the ship. He took a step, then two, allowing a better view of the two. “Tell your third to come in… what are you doing here, all of you?†