Noire
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Apr 29, 2014
- Messages
- 602
- Reaction score
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Lamaredd. Lamaro System.
Outer Rim Territories.
For a Jedi, being tucked away underground on a rather remote planet obviously had its perks; for one, they were nearly undetectable by the Imperials, which meant relative safety, for two, they could congregate in larger numbers and debate about whatever needed to be done. But Caden Ansgar looked visibly uncomfortable here, the latter part of such "perks" being the sole reason why. He didn't like waiting around for something to happen so that they could then chew it over; personally, he counted himself amongst the most proactive warriors that the Order had to offer and waiting around wasn't something he found himself doing often. He had taken it upon himself to help where ever he could; he'd fought to establish a base for the Jedi and the Rebels on Endor, and again on Meto Mundus, and had saved countless lives from the wrath of the Imperials on Cato Neimoidia and Tatooine. However, here on Lamaredd, there wasn't much of a pressure to...well do anything. He was a staunch believer in the notion that the responsibility of protecting the galaxy from the advance of the Empire rested with the Jedi, regardless of how fragmented their Order was, and the fact that he saw no such action to do so bothered him. The Lamaredd Outpost simply wasn't what was he expecting it to be.
The young Padawan was standing near one of the numerable cavernous entrances to the hidden Outpost, arms folded, and eyes locked onto a pair of younglings sparring some twenty feet away from him. The both of them couldn't have been any older than fourteen, yet they exchanged parries and dodged blows better than some adults Caden knew. That thought brought a slight smile to his lips, but the sudden beep from his commlink served well to erase it. Turning his attention away from the spar, and lifting his wrist closer toward his face, Caden's brow furrowed as watched a bluish holographic form of Jedi Master Larik Novan manifest before his eyes as the link was securely established. He smirked, but the renowned Master wasted no time with pleasantries, "Ansgar, worrying communication has been intercepted. The Mayor as well as the Town Council will be in imminent danger during their next meeting. Warn them. Protect them at all costs. Novan out." Caden was barely able to nod understandingly before the hologram was terminated and its sound replaced once more by the constant clashing of lightsabers echoing off of the cave's walls.
For the briefest of moments, he considered whether or not he should bring along another Jedi. It wasn't clear what the danger was yet and if it proved to be too much then that could very well mean the end of his life. But he decided against it almost as quickly as he'd thought of it; he was more than capable of handling himself. After all, he'd gone on missions alone before right? This wouldn't be different. Caden grabbed his folded black cloak off of the floor and hurriedly slipped it on as he began to jog towards the tunnel that led to the surface. Though he wished to, as it was no doubt a dead giveaway, there was simply no time for him to change out of his Jedi robes. And although he had infused bits of armor into the standard attire - including gauntlets and a single shoulder pad - it was still unmistakable and a problem he was hopeful the cloak would conceal. His lightsaber hung from his belt as well, jolting back and forth on the right side of his hip as he sprinted, and his blaster was holstered on the left. But despite his many concerns, Caden was ready.
One of the many advantages to living on Lamaredd and knowing it like the back of his hand was that there were countless places to meet in definite secrecy and he knew each and every one of them. Cliegg Ral had arranged a meeting between himself and several questionable characters of ill repute. It was within a small and quite filthy drinking establishment that the group he'd gathered nearly three months ago to the day found themselves having their final meeting for today was the big day. Cliegg wasn't like the other men around him though; he was a rather simple individual, a fisher by trade, and hadn't ever had in any run-ins with the law in his forty-six years of living. He'd lived on Lamaredd all of his life and savored the idyllic existence maintained even as a bloody war was waged across the stars. But things had changed. That bloody war now threatened to arrive at his front door step any moment now. He wouldn't let that happen.
Cliegg had heard the whispers. He'd heard the rumors near Bartyn's Landing; there were people with special powers, in large numbers, hiding out. They called them Jedi Knights. Personally, he had never heard of them and he wanted no part in any Jedi or any Knights bringing Imperial destruction. Though the elected officials remained in denial about the rumors, Cliegg had a strong sickening feeling they were lying through their teeth and he had to protect his home at all costs. That was why he'd gathered the most wicked, vile, and blood-thirsty scum he could pay for to carry out his wishes. Cliegg planned to beat down the Mayor and every member of the Town Council until the truth was revealed to everyone on Lamaredd. That was his goal. He would see it through.
There was a rugged man a few feet away from Cliegg, no more than forty years of age, no younger than thirty, who was leaning against a wall shrouded in the darker recesses of the very same establishment. He stood even beyond the shadow cast by the dim lights, as he often did. He was draped in a tattered cloak, armed with a set of blaster pistols, and hidden by a pockmarked hat whose brim was tilted so low that it revealed nothing but a smug grin and a death stick wedged in between a set of yellow colored teeth. His name was Daxel. Or so he claimed, and he was the man Cliegg had put in charge. He abruptly spat out the death stick on the ground and wrapped his fingers slowly around his blasters, "This stinkin' place has hid the smell of our treason for long enough. It's time to do what we're getting paid for boys. You first...boss," Daxel said with snide arrogance as Cliegg slowly rose to his feet. Without a word said to any of them Cliegg led the men out of the bar and toward the building where the officials would be meeting in exactly eight minutes.
The time was now.
Outer Rim Territories.
For a Jedi, being tucked away underground on a rather remote planet obviously had its perks; for one, they were nearly undetectable by the Imperials, which meant relative safety, for two, they could congregate in larger numbers and debate about whatever needed to be done. But Caden Ansgar looked visibly uncomfortable here, the latter part of such "perks" being the sole reason why. He didn't like waiting around for something to happen so that they could then chew it over; personally, he counted himself amongst the most proactive warriors that the Order had to offer and waiting around wasn't something he found himself doing often. He had taken it upon himself to help where ever he could; he'd fought to establish a base for the Jedi and the Rebels on Endor, and again on Meto Mundus, and had saved countless lives from the wrath of the Imperials on Cato Neimoidia and Tatooine. However, here on Lamaredd, there wasn't much of a pressure to...well do anything. He was a staunch believer in the notion that the responsibility of protecting the galaxy from the advance of the Empire rested with the Jedi, regardless of how fragmented their Order was, and the fact that he saw no such action to do so bothered him. The Lamaredd Outpost simply wasn't what was he expecting it to be.
The young Padawan was standing near one of the numerable cavernous entrances to the hidden Outpost, arms folded, and eyes locked onto a pair of younglings sparring some twenty feet away from him. The both of them couldn't have been any older than fourteen, yet they exchanged parries and dodged blows better than some adults Caden knew. That thought brought a slight smile to his lips, but the sudden beep from his commlink served well to erase it. Turning his attention away from the spar, and lifting his wrist closer toward his face, Caden's brow furrowed as watched a bluish holographic form of Jedi Master Larik Novan manifest before his eyes as the link was securely established. He smirked, but the renowned Master wasted no time with pleasantries, "Ansgar, worrying communication has been intercepted. The Mayor as well as the Town Council will be in imminent danger during their next meeting. Warn them. Protect them at all costs. Novan out." Caden was barely able to nod understandingly before the hologram was terminated and its sound replaced once more by the constant clashing of lightsabers echoing off of the cave's walls.
For the briefest of moments, he considered whether or not he should bring along another Jedi. It wasn't clear what the danger was yet and if it proved to be too much then that could very well mean the end of his life. But he decided against it almost as quickly as he'd thought of it; he was more than capable of handling himself. After all, he'd gone on missions alone before right? This wouldn't be different. Caden grabbed his folded black cloak off of the floor and hurriedly slipped it on as he began to jog towards the tunnel that led to the surface. Though he wished to, as it was no doubt a dead giveaway, there was simply no time for him to change out of his Jedi robes. And although he had infused bits of armor into the standard attire - including gauntlets and a single shoulder pad - it was still unmistakable and a problem he was hopeful the cloak would conceal. His lightsaber hung from his belt as well, jolting back and forth on the right side of his hip as he sprinted, and his blaster was holstered on the left. But despite his many concerns, Caden was ready.
One of the many advantages to living on Lamaredd and knowing it like the back of his hand was that there were countless places to meet in definite secrecy and he knew each and every one of them. Cliegg Ral had arranged a meeting between himself and several questionable characters of ill repute. It was within a small and quite filthy drinking establishment that the group he'd gathered nearly three months ago to the day found themselves having their final meeting for today was the big day. Cliegg wasn't like the other men around him though; he was a rather simple individual, a fisher by trade, and hadn't ever had in any run-ins with the law in his forty-six years of living. He'd lived on Lamaredd all of his life and savored the idyllic existence maintained even as a bloody war was waged across the stars. But things had changed. That bloody war now threatened to arrive at his front door step any moment now. He wouldn't let that happen.
Cliegg had heard the whispers. He'd heard the rumors near Bartyn's Landing; there were people with special powers, in large numbers, hiding out. They called them Jedi Knights. Personally, he had never heard of them and he wanted no part in any Jedi or any Knights bringing Imperial destruction. Though the elected officials remained in denial about the rumors, Cliegg had a strong sickening feeling they were lying through their teeth and he had to protect his home at all costs. That was why he'd gathered the most wicked, vile, and blood-thirsty scum he could pay for to carry out his wishes. Cliegg planned to beat down the Mayor and every member of the Town Council until the truth was revealed to everyone on Lamaredd. That was his goal. He would see it through.
There was a rugged man a few feet away from Cliegg, no more than forty years of age, no younger than thirty, who was leaning against a wall shrouded in the darker recesses of the very same establishment. He stood even beyond the shadow cast by the dim lights, as he often did. He was draped in a tattered cloak, armed with a set of blaster pistols, and hidden by a pockmarked hat whose brim was tilted so low that it revealed nothing but a smug grin and a death stick wedged in between a set of yellow colored teeth. His name was Daxel. Or so he claimed, and he was the man Cliegg had put in charge. He abruptly spat out the death stick on the ground and wrapped his fingers slowly around his blasters, "This stinkin' place has hid the smell of our treason for long enough. It's time to do what we're getting paid for boys. You first...boss," Daxel said with snide arrogance as Cliegg slowly rose to his feet. Without a word said to any of them Cliegg led the men out of the bar and toward the building where the officials would be meeting in exactly eight minutes.
The time was now.
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