Nothing We Can Call Our Own But...(Epilogue)

Tsara

Character
SWRP Writer
Joined
Nov 23, 2019
Messages
51
Reaction score
34
latest


ERIADO
The bar was the same bar, but it had become different over time. An ever executing cycle of progress, destruction, recovery and denigration had left little unchanged in the once seedy establishment. It was brighter. Tackier. The stage that had once occupied the far wall was eradicated, and turned into an alcove of seats, tables, and a massive booth. Beyond was a vast floor to ceiling window that looked out at the cityscape.

WelcomeTo29_854x480.jpg

It was for the best. After losing her left arm, and right leg, the 40 year old Twi'lek standing in the entry way had lost the 'it' factor in her dance steps. Seeing the stage would have hurt in the heart department. Fifteen years ago had been an eye opener; losing two limbs had reduced her capacity in the Force, her ability to really sense it. Somehow, it had taken the vim out of her rhythm. The conclusion was that her relationship with the all encompassing energy was through the physical act of spinning and twirling. The focus on motion.

Once she lost both the appendages, she lost the 'beat' with the Force for good, and thus, her ability to dance like she once did. A pang, and a sigh, and Tsara Tarr stepped the rest of the way inside, acknowledging the painful truth that she would only be light her feet in a Kolto Tank.

Silently, she cursed the mechanical arm and leg that had replaced the severed flesh from a decade and a half ago.

All things severed often couldn't be re-attached...accept memory.

The bar brought back a 19 year old, vivacious vamp two-stepping her way around the Galaxy with Sith Acolytes and a Mandalorian Sniper. They'd carried on together for quite some time, and while those times were hard, violent, and full of uncertainty, they were blessed with comradery, trust, and good faith.

Not to mention excitement!

She was whole then. And truly alive.

The sweep of Mandalorian dominance had change the Galaxy in some ways for the better, but also for the worse. The Jedi and Sith had been once again driven into shadowy margins, and Force adepts, or merely sensitives, were also disintegrated in the indiscriminate slaughters. But, there was a republic, and democracy, so who cared if billions of innocent lives paid along with a million Force Users?

Tsara's loss had, perhaps, been a boon in the long run. She never became Sith, or Jedi, and unlike her mother, who had persued the Jedi knowledge, Tsara had abandoned the road to both the Light and Dark Sides.

And, so, she remained. The Galaxy remained, and every race birthed within it.

"Nothing to call our own but the grave..." Tsara breathed as she sat down at one of the tables looking out the new window. Dressed in a dark brown trench coat and a black, form fitting jumper, Tsara didn't look too bad for four decades, noting several young Zabraks eyeing her not a little too lecherously.

A serving droid rolled up, and asked for her order right when a tug, a familiar interior tug, caused Tsara to look over her shoulder back at the entrance as someone dear entered.

"Fuzzy Taun-Taun." she ordered. A smile cracked on her face, proverbial Lekku to Lekku. The sad expression of her remaining right eye brightened with warmth. Subconsciously, her gloved robotic hand went to the brass metallic patch over the lost eye.

Memories. Good and bad. But mostly good.

It had been way too long...far too long...

@Red Pyramid @Ripper @Nihilist Horizon
 
Last edited:

Alesha Solus

Character
SWRP Writer
Joined
Nov 25, 2019
Messages
8
Reaction score
9
When Alesha has landed on Eriado for the first time in over a decade, she hadn’t really known why. Something, whatever it was, seemed to be calling here back; it felt right to retrace her steps from 19 years ago as she walked towards that bar where her life had changed. Her Mandalorian armour received it’s fair share of glances, a mix of fear and admiration that was generally associated with the recent dominance of her people. As she entered the bar, Alesha removed her helmet, her auburn hair falling just past her ears, much shorter than it’d been the last time she was here.

Contemplating the last several years, her thoughts went to her adventures years ago. Atraxis in particular was a point of her interest; where was he now? Alesha wasn’t even sure if the Sith acolyte knew about his son, Alexi, who was 13 now. He was back home on Ruusan under the care of her fiancé, Lena Zionviev, a Mirialan and former bounty hunter.

Alesha let a smile creep into her face as she noticed a familiar looking Twi’lek sitting at the bar, finally understanding why she was here. Her hand drifted up to the uneven x-shaped pair of scars running across her face, a reminder of the heist the old group had set out on 19 years ago. The Mandalorian slowly walked up to the bar, taking a seat next to her old friend and ordering a strong whiskey. Without turning from her drink, she simply said,

“Long time no see, Tsara.”

@Tsara Tarr @Red Pyramid @Ripper
 

Atraxis Aburay

Character
SWRP Writer
Joined
Nov 19, 2019
Messages
30
Reaction score
25
The rain was same as always, and his ship however weathered the storm upon planetary entry far better. His ship roared over the docks, water slicking off the blackened and scarred metal of his personal ship. It had been many years since he last stepped foot on this planet, more than a few memories surfacing as he walked down the ramp. The rain practically pouring sideways but each drop seemed to shift around him as he moved down the path. Either Evaporating or being tossed aside it was as if an invisible bubble was shielding him from the storm as he made his way towards an old bar. His Black robes were torn and ragged near the bottom, strips floating in the breeze lazily despite the whipping winds. His armor long since gone and replace with a Simple black vest, his torn off sleeves exposed powerful arms and a dark tattoo, a single mark to represent his history with a certain group of people. His eyes, once a light yellow were now a Dark Burned Gold, a light tracing of Black Veins could be seen coming from his eyes as inky blackness swam around in the white of his eyes. For all of his dark appearance however, he radiated an aura of Calmness and the burn of a storm not unlike the one currently raging on the docks, yet instead of the smell of rain and burnt ozone, it was a gentle heat, fire and ash ready to spring to life and consume all it touched.

Pushing open the door to the bar, he walked in quietly, his armored boots making no more sound than soft sandals as he could already feel the presences of two old friends. The light that illuminated his face showed one long scar, dropped down his face and neck likely going to his chest. The familiar marks of a lightsaber burn, it was a proud scar. One that had let him know he had fought, bled and striven for his current title of Warrior. He saw a familiar set of armor, and a scarred and maimed beauty he once knew to travel with him.

"Tsara......Alesha. Time seems to fly by does it not." He said in a gentle whisper which aided by the force, would wash over their ears like a gentle lapping wave. It was good to see them.

@Tsara Tarr @Nihilist Horizon @Ripper
 
Top