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Nashyr Ris had never imagined there would be a time that she would willingly train someone else, or take anyone under her wing. She knew most of the order viewed her as an extroverted oddball, happy to help out with younglings on occasion or even jaunt out into the unknown regions without even...

After the events on Rishi and Chandrila, Nashyr Ris hadn't had time to process everything that had happened. She was happy--elated, even, a word she never thought she'd use in her life-- and yet, feeling as though she had committed too much at once. The gym seemed to restrictive; too many faces...

Nashyr Ris had to admit, Chandrila was possibly one of the few places she wouldn't have minded visiting for any reason other than Jedi business. But there was word on the street that lack of aid in good time has brought out a mob-like mentality among the normally peaceable Chandrilans...

Rishi 3 Kilometers from Smuggler's Cove 09:21 a.m. -Theme- Nashyr couldn't remember the last time she allowed herself a vacation. She worked hard, making sure those that she helped in the Order were safe... doing what little she could to be part of an Order that struggled in the face of...

With recent events, Nashyr felt... at odds, with all of it. There being real Jedi. The dangers of Lothal. The way she felt after the Light Ceremony. Everything to do with her Master, Maxims, and Ezekiel. Oren's arrest. All of it kept piling up and up, until the Cathar Padawan grew tired...

Unbeknownst to many, Nashyr was the type of woman that loved a good book. In particular, she loved reading historic documents, watching historic holovids... she just loved a good tale to tell, and in the long hours when she worked as owner of the Slicer's Vice, she spent her downtime reading or...

Thmp. Thump. Ching! Thump, thmp, CRACK. She took a second, feeling her heart race, eyes narrowed at the bag in concentration. But every time she blinked, she saw the face of Jazzy. Every time she exhaled, she thought about the Order... about her conflicted feelings with some in it. Her own...

When the two unconscious bodies were collected by Jaxu and Aubrey, Nash and Max limped their way back to her office in the Slicer's Vice. Until the two prisoners were secured and conscious, she wanted desperately to have at least some sort of drink, though she recalled he jokingly asked for rum...

"Max! What happened?" She listened over the comms… but heard no answer. He couldn't be dead already. She felt rooted in place, however. That sound... holovids from history in particular replayed in her mind. A signature hum that was once the hope of the galaxy... Or the bane of it. She gritted...

-Theme- She crouched low, watching events unfold from above. It had been a long time since she had to do anything involving tracking... but it seemed her newfound companion wasn't unfamiliar with stakeouts and the hunt. From far above, thunder rolled quietly, but she didn't smell rain. Not that...