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Healing was tiring, but Samira had been conserving energy since the battle started; after all, it was one of the main benefits of her reserved fighting style. She could see, no, feel the danger as her lightsaber flew from her grip, and in that moment, she allowed it; knowing that it was the will...

One, two, three, stab. One, two, three, cut. Samira practically danced between the slavers, who were much less dangerous at closer range, incapacitating them by targeting their arm and leg muscles, making sure they couldn't join the fight. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a...

"Instructions on the datapad? Okay, lets pull those up. You figure they'd have said something earlier. That makes our job easier, doesn't it Giran?" Samira smiled, pulling up the instruction set and gazing intently over it. Cooking instructions are always weird, so different from how she learned...

"Pleasure to meet you as well; I'm Samira." Happy to have had someone introduce themselves in such a polite manner, Samira became practically estatic when the Mirialan padawan asked for help. Smile on her face, she walked over and placed a hand on the younger one's shoulder, though she noted...

Samira hoped that they could defeat the slavers without killing them; though she wouldn't blame anyone if that were to happen, she was reluctant to allow even this to lead to loss of life. After all, slavers, as they were, often lacked the skill required to remain a threat after being injured...

"Hello, and good day everyone. I hope I'm not being intrusive; I know that I'm not going to be on cooking duty anytime soon." Samira smiled, recalling her last cooking attempt. Evidently, the cuisine of Mirial was pretty foul by galactic standards; which makes sense, given the planet's lack of...