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[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa made a grumble-like noise. "So, pawns." It wasn't exactly a secret; if your only use in the Sith Order was fighting and dying, then fighting and dying is what you'd do. He listened to her bit about Sith Lords, head tilting. His expression turned thoughtful.

"In a few Jedi works they call the 'Dark Side' the easy path. Maybe that opinion was formed in times with many of these 'adepts' around? The Dark is quick to call in a fight." By contrast, learning unusual or more complicated techniques was difficult. Things like magick or sorcery took both practice and aptitude to get it right. By contrast, every Sith from the Rule of Two era with any information on them was considered both a master swordsman and of an array of other techniques.

Many of which they'd created themselves along the way. He kind of shrugged. "I think a sole on direct warfare has made learning or creating new things 'uncompetitive'. Spiritual matters and deeper mysteries of the Force are forgotten." Nakoa pulled a bag of nerf jerky from his belt and pulled it open. He took one and wordlessly offered Arla some.

"I think neglecting those things is, uh... Well, neglectful. My people have maintained these things from nomadic tribes to today's underwater cities."

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla nodded emphatically at his word choice. It was precisely what she was looking for and it seemed that yet again the two Sith were on the same wave-length.

Yes, pawns, she agreed.

The Dark Side was easier? That was a dumb sentiment and she frowned. Spoken like someone who has never practiced any arcanistry, she said with a scoff. The arcane techniques that Arla had learned were rigorous and taxing, and she took personal offense to the idea that they were through anything but extreme work and dedication.

She took some of the offered jerky and happily munched on it, easily swayed by all manner of handheld snacks.

I've never actually met any Jedi, so I'd be interested to hear their explanation on what is simple about being an arcane master, she said unamusedly, and filed that thought away as something to do another day: hunt down a Jedi so you can grill them with questions about their beliefs.

Most Sith shouldn't be called Sith, she finally said. Even as she said it, she could feel the ship lurch out of hyperspace, betraying that they had arrived at their planetary destination and the pilot droid began lowering them toward the ground. The difficult part was just beginning: convincing the Shapers to actually answer their questions.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Nakoa waved his hand dismissively. "For a group of ostensible diplomats they're close minded, huh?' He took more jerky and continued to offer them up to Arla whenever she'd finished with her current morsels. "I haven't either. We should work on that." Surely modern Jedi had opinions that differed from thousands of years ago, right? There was no way their philosophical and moral viewpoints had stagnated for the entire duration of the Republic's lifetime. Right?

That'd be crazy.

"Cosplayers," Nakoa submitted as an alternative to 'Sith'. Then the ship lurched out of hyperspace, shockingly smooth still with its high-grade inertial compensators. "Where'd you get this ship?" It wasn't the most subtle design but damn if it wasn't really nice.

Nakoa stood up and stretched, their arms toward the ceiling with a quiet groan. "Hope it's not another wasteland," he commented with tentative optimism.

It was another wasteland, sand and sparse shrubs with some dry-looking trees as far as the eye could see. At least, that's how it was where they landed. With a sense of being largely fed up, he pulled his breathing mask from his bag and fixed it over his mouth and nose. "At least it isn't on fire."

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

I bought it, she said. She had done quite well for herself in the Sith with tax money from Columex and Centares. She wasn't hurting for funds anymore and upgrading her transport and mobile home had been one of the first orders of business.

I spend too much time aboard to fly around in garbage, she said. She moved up to the cockpit as she looked at he largely vast and open nothingness of the planet.

Hm, she hummed as she clicked on the console.

Atmosphere's breathable, she said as she saw him grab the breath mask. Almost reminds me of Korriban, she said, which wasn't a glowing recommendation.

She fired up the scanners and started searching for any signs of civilization.

There's... a temple or something in the distance. I'm going to set down at a distance so we'll have to hike it, she said. She already understood that they didn't like offworlders, so setting down in a hip right at their temple probably wasn't a great idea.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

He gave Arla a flat, mildly amused look. "You mean you didn't conjure it from stardust? I meant what maker." As much as he liked his well-aged flying boat, it was... well, old. Older than the clone wars, actually, and modified to hell. Window shopping for the future couldn't hurt. "Mm," he agreed about flying garbage. Little was more expensive than sudden engine or hyperdrive failure for a frequent flyer.

Amber-golds glanced over at Arla when she mentioned a breathable atmosphere. "Also dry," Nakoa added with a glance askew toward the scanner readouts, snapping the mask in place. It helped retain moisture otherwise lost from breathing. They went through the process of covering their gills with a special gel-sided cloth and moisturizing skin, leaving the cockpit to put on his thermal netting and so on. He peeked back in, sans shirt for the moment but plus the netting.

"Makes sense to me. Hiking's nice anyway." This felt the opposite of the last time they'd met up to trek through a lake in a funny sort of way. He'd re-dressed himself by the time Arla set the ship down, boots laced to keep sand and stuff out of them. Practically bouncing down the landing ramp with anticipation, even yet another dry wasteland planet couldn't deter his enthusiasm for exploration.

It wasn't actually that bad, truth be told. More of a savannah than a wasteland. Squinting, he placed a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and flipped his poncho's hood up. "Wonder if they noticed the ship," Nakoa questioned aloud, hefting his bag over his shoulder.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Oh... Rendilli, she said. Look, there were many ways one could acquire a vessel! Stealing, buying, inheriting, gifting... you know... many ways.

Ah, right, she said, sometimes forgetting that he was an acquatic species and probably wasn't too agreeable wtih extreme heat and deserts. I'm sure you loved Korriban, then, she said.

Good chance they did. If it's anything like Dathomir, we'll probably have a welcoming party soon, she said, though she did doubt that it was really like Dathomir. After all, they were skeptical of off-worlders but usually not killing them outright levels.

The two pressed onward for quite some time, hiking in the direction of the temple and making conversation about all manner of nerdy and arcane topics when Arla felt something shift. Something different like they were being followed. Her eyes narrowed and she started looking around, eyes settling on a small, rocky hill-mountain a few hundred meters away. Beyond that, she could see the temple on the horizon, and she wondered if it was some sort of guard outpost or if they had simply sent people out to intercept the off-worlders.

You sense them? They're here, she said quietly.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

Amber-gold eyes stared somewhere out in space, head tilting as if listening to the sound of some distant something. He briefly sniffed the air. "Oh, they're good," he replied, gaze turning to the hill. No scent, no sound. If the two of them weren't Force users especially attuned to extra senses, they wouldn't have noticed anything at all-

Distant earth shifted around them. Shapes slipped through what seemed like solid stone. They figures weren't armed, garbed in wrappings of loose cloth, and tattooed in shades of green across skin the color of bronze. Stones floated about the three figures, although there was no sense of overt hostility or intent to kill to be found.

In short, Arla and Nakoa had only noticed the ones farther away. Whether this bode good or ill wasn't obvious yet. "Outworlders. You enter hill clan territory. Why?" a tall, muscular woman asked warily in heavily accented basic. Although some form Kro Var went out into the galaxy, it was still a little-known world with limited contact with the outside.

Nakoa, having tensed up, consciously clasped his hands in front of his waist with an air of patience. "We come as friends, curious of your people and culture. I am Singh of Wrea, another world attacked by machine armies long ago." He glanced at Arla. Tethysians did not introduce others; it was considered rude to take away the voice of another unnecessarily.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla didn't move as the stones began to float upwards. For a moment, she was a little bit concerned but the Shadow betrayed no sense of hostility to her, and so she made no move to attack or defend herself. It was a display of power and intimidation, which she could not fault them for.

She let Nakoa speak first before adding for herself.

And I am Arla of the Forgotten Valley Clan of Nightsisters, she said, knowing that - although rare - their people and hers had come into contact before.

There was a vague murmur between a few of them at her words, but she couldn't make out what exactly they were saying.

We know of your people. Followers of the spirits. And yours? he the woman asked, looking over to Nakoa now to determine if he was the same.

 

[Nakoa Singh]

A muscle on Nakoa's face twitched in amusement at all the muttering. "Speakers of spirits," the Wrean said with a nod of his head. His phrasing got him an odd look from one of them, but the other two assumed it was some kind of language barrier. It was, more or less.

"Decades since our people have met a Nightsister." More muttering between the two others. Not since the Clone Wars had any clans of Kro Var intentionally met with other groups. Galactic events strongly discouraged such outreach at the time, and life had gone on in the meantime. The female Shaper looked at Nakoa, then Arla. She was the most cynical of the bunch, and the most senior.

"You could be lying. Prove yourselves." The Shapers of Kro Var were known as much for a direct, confrontational culture as much as their skill with the elements. Nakoa's head tilted slightly, amber-gold eyes sharp as they looked over the woman as if he was looking through her rather than at her. There was a long, pregnant pause as both beings locked eyes.

"Irirangi yatahadath." Nakoa clapped his hands, as if in prayer. "Eabir ean nafsiki. Qul asmuk." Tensing, the woman turned toward her right shoulder, eyes widening. There was no hostility, only surprise, as she beheld the spirit of her great-grandmother watching over her. As did the rest of them, gathered all around.

The ghost's lips moved, then just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Nakoa exhaled slowly and softly. "Although we are not known to you, I am Irirangi of the Bendu Gesserit, a sect of Tethysian shamans centered on Wrea." So focused on warfare as they were, the Shapers rarely encountered spirits so clearly.

Slowly, still taken aback by these strangers, the woman turned to Arla.

@Phoenix

 

[Arla]

Arla watched as Nakoa summoned the spirit into the air in front of them, and although she didn't recognize the woman, it was clear that the Shapers did.

Although Arla had a part of her wanting to remark sarcastically to the demand to prove herself, she also knew she probably would have demanded the same in their position, so there was really no room - or productivity - to complain.

All eyes turned to the Nightsister and for a moment she pondered what she should do before settling on an idea.

She bent down and touched the ground, green ichors sprouting form her hand as she closed closed her eyes and focused.

Dukhi buri, ya prizyvayu vas dat' volyu svoyey yarosti, she said, and as she repeated the lines again and again, almost out of nowhere, clouds began to form and swirl overhead. With enough time, it would have whipped into a full rainstorm, but that would take more time and energy than she was willing to expend.

She was, however, willing to guess that such a feat would be of interest to a group living on as dry and arid a land as Kro Var.

She seemed to have guessed right.

You will come with us. We will discuss an exchange of knowledge, the woman said, and with that they were led back to a lengthy barter over knowledge.

//Thread