Run.

[Defiance]

run.
Jedi

Sith​

Hutt​

Rebel​

Indie​

open

A light asynchronous patter of paws frequented the background, followed by faint barks of some local strays. Hushed conversation filled the flushed capital of Rishi, a scum-filled smuggler's haven turned into a community, the blushed rays kissing the adobe rooftops. Wisps of smoke wafted into the air, mixing with the after-rain mist. Wazwashi Street, Rishi's center of business. Shrouded, unpersonalized figures wandered through the puddles, light splashes sprinkling the weathered cobblestone road. Merchandise of all kind lay to the eye, few legal, and mostly all smuggled. Axton ambled through, a hood upon his head, obscuring his scruff, unshaven face and cerulean eyes. He frowned as he heard a woman scream at a group of lascivious drunkards emitting haughty laughter. Yet he did not turn his head. The lost Jedi chanced upon a cart of what appeared to be produce. A front, no doubt, for under-the-table deals. He watched as the old woman behind the cart handed a man a bag of opiate substance.

Had he come so far to be reduced to this, a wandering moralist subdued by the flood of such evil?

He did not know.

Axton snatched a fruit from the cart as he walked by, unbeknownst to the elderly woman as she attended to another eager customer. Weighing the object in his hands, blue eyes carefully glanced around without deterring his walking rhythm. A buzz of a speeder bike engine was increasing in volume as it continued to get closer and closer, a foreign entity to the shadowed community. Axton halted for a moment, as if observing a nearby building. He tossed the fruit into the air, and turned around a nearby stand into an intersected road. The fruit landed into a florid puddle with a large splash just as the speeder passed by, causing the rider to swerve into a nearby booth. The ensuing crash instigated a great scene among the low-lifes.

Axton revolved his head to the side, silently observing the altercation he had caused.

A familiar mass of abhorrence rounded behind him, a collection of misshapen, glaucous boils and protrusions accented by a funnel-shaped muzzle. A blaster hung exposed on it's hip, nearby equally funnel-shaped digits. The lowest of the trash: bounty hunters. A sigh escaped Axton's lips as he began to slow his stride. His two hands, wielding his silver companion, tensed as he spun around, igniting his azure justice to life. The blade that served it's execution impaled the Rodian, a decision well-served. The Rodian sputtered out a couple exoteric words before his life slipped away like broken shards washed by the ocean. The price that now stood for the life of iniquity.

Heads turned to view the man that conducted this cobalt execution. Eyes dilated, and disparaged others reached for their weaponry. Every Jedi was wanted by the Imperium, and it could be guaranteed that anyone who took a Knight would be paid handsomely. Withdrawing his saber from the Rodian corpse, Axton shifted his eyes as he felt the callous atmosphere heralded by brazen act of violence. Jedi or not, any low-life would love the coin from bringing him in, and he was severely outnumbered. What he had done was insular, wrong even. Yet paranoia and desperation festered behind his stricken walls, infecting his reasoning with the justification of such savagery.

As far as he knew, he was the judge, jury, and executioner. And the only one.

He knew one thing for certain, calling his indigo familiar back to its cage. Now would be the time to flee.

 

[Cale]

How he had come to this place, at this time, was something of a mystery to Khaimov. He had been carefully following the trail left by a desperate killer from Nar Shaddaa all the way here. Here, however, the trail seemed a little cold. He'd not yet found any new leads, and thus he was at a loose end. Such a loose end that he'd taken to wandering the streets aimlessly, hoping that some clue or shadow of the killer. Anything that might give him a sign. There was, of course, the possibility that the killer hadn't left. That he'd hunkered down on this planet and lost himself in the crowd. But Khai didn't feel that was likely. Something in his gut told him otherwise.

He wandered down Wazwashi street, standing out rather obviously as he towered over the heads of those around him. But for once he was not the center of attention, as a speeder crashed into a booth, a little way down the street. This would have been tragedy enough for Khai to become interested and assist, but it was shortly followed by the sound of a lightsaber igniting. And then a Rodian died. That struck Khaimov as wrong. The saber wielder just struck him down, not even a brief hint of mercy.

The giant kiffar strode through the crowd towards the altercation. If this was a Sith, he would need to be dealt with quietly and quickly.

 

[Defiance]

Axton clenched as his jaw as he shifted his eyes among the flagrant bottom-feeding life of the underground, wondering who would make the first move. He imagined the innocent backs that their poison had touched, it's slow affliction continuing to taint the galaxy. He was a loosened warrior without master, a traveling ronin of the Light, hunted by the wicked. Such had a great effect on him through the entirety of the past ten years. From simply grasping the reigns of adulthood to maturing amongst the iniquity gave him a jaded view upon the likes of men. He took it upon himself to try and change it, but he soon realized that he was not only a wanderer, but an outcast. He was alone.

He had lost his hope.

By every aspect, his fuel became the fuel of survival, the sacrifice of his rigidity for salvation. Akin to a cornered animal, he watched the bearded man that stepped towards him, baffled by the mere bravado that he possessed. Another hunter looking for his head? Axton's eyes narrowed. Either way, this man was in the way of his exit, and sooner or later such a problem must be dealt with. He raised his saber hilt in a provocative manner. "Hey, get out of my way." He decided to add to it, the hardened life of crime understood fear better than reason. "Or I'm going to have to do something I don't want to do." He took a step forward, attempting to appear intimidating.

"Just move along, I don't want to hurt anyone."

Maybe he was talking too much?

For a fully-grown male, he didn't feel like it made much of an impact. Conversation was never his strongest suit; it was a severely undeveloped skill of his. His entire upbringing was flawed in itself. Maybe he took things too literally or jumped to conclusions, yet he knew that he'd have to exit this situation soon before it escalated.

"I'm not in the mood for this."

Blasé always helps.

 

[Bee]

Slender digits, a shade not unlike that of a pallid Ithorian rose, wrapped around a fine-grained ceramic mug, the milky liquid held within passing delicately over red lips and ivory teeth. Her presence on Rishi was far from haphazard coincidence, though it went unnoticed by the rank and file, by the sinners and the wandering lost, obfuscated with direct and knowing purpose. Such trickery did not come to her with ease, and every slow sip of the local demitasse, far more potent than it had initially appeared, was a flickering moment spent shrinking her presence in the web that bound together the souls who could feel it, until she was nearly microscopic. A dark spot, though no more suspicious for the caliginosity, at least not among the bounty hunters and thieves that crowded the well-worn walkways. Those disciplined in weaving the lacework to their will would find her, doubtlessly. But to the uninitiated, to the unaware, Vica simply was not there.

The lost one passed by. The whisper-thin hairs of her neck raised, turquoise orbs following his movements with a detached disinterest for a handful of seconds, but nothing more; his existence was of no concern to her, but in the distance, the prodigious man who moved with a familiar conviction through the rabble, most assuredly was. Technology granted her the sight to recognize him well before he could do the same, and in an instant - one full of noise and chaos, not unlike her personal leitmotif - the din of an accident ripped her concentration in two, her connection to the Force - once safe beneath her hard-won concealment - laid bare for those that would endeavor to seek it. In the ensuing discord, she rose from her seat along the walkway and moved with soundless steps toward the convergence of men, one strange and the other quite known, until with the unnerving ease of a well-practiced predator, she was upon them.

A cool hand came to rest on the shoulder of the smaller man, her height allowing her the leverage to lean in and speak into the antagonist's ear. "I believe you may be biting off more than you can chew." Her smirk, her inflection, were sphinx-like. Nearly unreadable. Any aggression was veiled beneath an off-worlder's accent, beneath a quiet and knowing assurance that she voiced the truth. Augmented optics flickered upward, and the hand upon Axton's shoulder slipped away. "When it comes to picking a fight, size matters."

 

[Cale]

There was something about the human race that made them look at someone larger than they were, and think "I'm gonna FIGHT it." It was not entirely unique to the species, as it also occurred to many near-humans, but it was a trait that seemed most prominent to humanity. They never tried to pick fights with wookiees, or gamorreans. Just those that looked suspiciously like an overly tall human. These were the thoughts that ran through Khaimov's head, initially.

The waved saber hilt wasn't especially concerning to him at the moment. He'd been threatened by people far more frightening than this unfortunately demented man who seemed willing to offer violence as a first resort, rather than a last. Slowly he raised his hands to about chest height, fingers spread and palms out, in a rather universal sign that he was unarmed.

"If you do not wish to hurt anyone, then do not. You are the master of your own destiny. But I also cannot let you walk out of here after you murdered someone in cold blood. If you simply hand over your weapon and accompany me, I am sure that the officers of the law will show mercy. Hello Vica."

The sudden arrival of the rogue jedi threw him a little. He had not been expecting her here. Nor had he been expecting to see her anywhere for a long time.

 

[Defiance]

Humility. The demeanor of the figure took Axton somewhat aback. The calm surrender with humble request for taking penalty. The tension built up upon his face lessened, and he slowly unhooded his head, revealing a nest of thick brown hair and piercing blue eyes rested above a little scruff growing upon his chin. The mannerism reminded him of a world of distant past, a dream remembered in an almost drunken stupor, sudden clarity flooding within his consciousness. He looked upon this taller man, beneath the combat ready persona to reveal something different. This man did not act like a bounty hunter. He acted like—

Another Jedi?

Pure shock washed over his limbs, his heartbeat beginning to rise. Elation spread across him, such as a shower of rain upon his parched, sun-stricken skin. His anger now evanescent, his mouth hung agape with the innocence of his youth. If this truly was another Jedi, than he was not alone. He was not as alone as he once thought. Though his mind florid with possibilities of future, a touch startled him from his reminiscence. The touch of a woman. Followed then her voice, a piercing whisper fraught with mystery. Friend or foe? His ornate thoughts could not decide. Axton turned to put picture to the voice, only to find himself off-put by her beauty.

What was her purpose? Did she seek to capture him? Or was she with this stranger?

A cautious step away from her, Axton swiveled his head back to the man, his entire countenance composed and the former theatrics washed away by new revelation. A strange turn changed within his voice as he spoke, an unforeseen change in maturity.

"I apologize. I usually like to intimidate those who may seek my head." He sent a glance back at the woman with a smile, and gestured back towards the untouched corpse of the Rodian. "That being was not murdered in cold-bold, I can tell you that. Let's just say that worse things are following suit." He looked down at his saber for a moment, as if his eyes were tracing the design.

"But if it is justice you desire, I will oblige. At the right moment that is."

He snickered.

"Until then, you can help me out—" His eyebrows raised with thought and he half-turned to the woman. His finger outstretched. "—and you, too. If you want."

He belted his weapon, and began to walk back into the distance. Prying eyes were about.

 

[Bee]

There were some who walked the line between light and dark, and others who removed themselves from the Order completely, content to forge their own path. If Khai was a lighthouse in a storm, a literal beacon of hope for someone so desperately lost, Vica's presence was the rocky shore below, a perilous hindrance to safety. But she hadn't come to hurt him, and in fact wanted nothing more than a moment alone with the towering knight, who was of far greater interest to her than Axton. It would've been a lie to say that the bounty hunter in her hadn't wondered how difficult it would be to toss him in the back of her borrowed ship and deliver him to the nearest Imperial checkpoint, but with Khaimov in the mix it was better not to entertain the notion. Even without him, she didn't want to get tangled up with the Empire - it was entirely possible that they'd take her too, aware somehow of her involvement with the Jedi and the Cartel both, which was likely just as damning.

But Vi didn't wave her lightsaber around in public, so at least she had that going for her.

Folding her hands behind her back, she canted her head slightly to the side, as if saying saying is that so? with little more than a look. She didn't really know what to make of the stranger, if he was some kind of Jedi, or even a Sith in disguise - even for one as far removed from the ridiculousness of the Jedi Order she still had some sense of what was going on around her, of who was touched by the dark side, and who wasn't - and for just a moment, an odd surge of protectiveness shot up through her spine. Had he come here looking for Khai as well? And more importantly - did he mean him harm?

Vica drew in a deep breath. It didn't matter. It was none of her business if he did, and besides, what could she possibly do for her former friend if that were the case? As Axton moved away she took a few steps forward, coming up along side Khai with a slight shrug. "Not one of yours, I take it?" That slight grin still apparent on her lips, she slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shaking her head. "Tell me you're not going to do anything stupid." As much as she hated to admit it, Vica was curious. She fully intended to follow along, if only to see what the hell was going on.

 

[Cale]

Khaimov was very confused by this individual, but given the number of prying eyes, did not want to provoke a fight. Two, possibly three, sabers showing up all at once would definitely blow any kind of stealth or subtlety out of the water. That was not going to be good for anyone. Especially not him or Vica. The only chance he had of discovering what this man was, and possibly dragging him back to the Grand Master to face some sort of justice was to follow. Besides, he at least had some back-up in the form of his former friend and sometime antagonist. The Force help the man if he decided to assault Vica though. Khaimov would not stand for it.

As the woman in question sidled up to him, with that maddening grin on her face, he returned her shrug.

Not one of mine. As for doing something stupid, I would never lie to you, Vica. So I'll just keep my mouth shut. Shall we?"

He followed along after the nameless man, an expression of curiosity on his face

 

[Defiance]

ooc; sorry for the holdup, times are busy



Axton breathed deeply from his nose as he meandered through abandoned stalls, hiding behind a stack of wooden crates. He waited for the two to accommodate with each other—obvious acquaintances from the past—and catch up. As they approached, he leaned against the crates as if relieved of some burden. "Allow me to explain."

"I'm being followed—"

He stopped himself. "Or rather—tracked. Imperials are hot on my trail, and a band of bounty hunters are closing in fast. They want to collect the price on my head as a former Jedi Knight." He waved his silver hilt carelessly at the two, a cold yet playful look on his face. "Don't either of you get any ideas." He coughed, and began to return to the point. "However, you two seem to hold some sort of honor, so I'm willing to entrust you with this task. See that man over there?"

He swiveled his head to the edge of the crate and gestured towards a lone figure on the other side of the street. An edgy gunslinger-esque looking man strolled, looking side to side, scanning for his mark. Military grade weapons swung at his hips, including anti-Force Sensitive weapons, and well-kept garments surrounded his figure. A professional. An Imperial bounty hunter.

"That is Jethro. He's been hunting me for three systems now. That Rodian you saw? One of his lackeys. And now that the Rodian is gone, he knows I'm here."

Axton turned back to the man.

"Here's the deal: take him down, I come unwillingly. Take it or leave it." He momentarily turned to the woman with a childish grin began to form on his face. "You seem like a tough girl."—he gave her a wink—"You should help your boyfriend here make a decision."

 

[Bee]

"The honesty is refreshing," she said with a facetious smile, though there was no real cruelty behind her words. "After you." Gesturing with one arm, she even threw in a half-hearted, almost mocking bow. Waiting for Khai to move forward, she followed into step a few paces behind the towering man, taking a glance over her shoulder in case anyone - planetary authorities or otherwise - had opted to attempt to do their jobs and apprehend the man so carelessly brandishing his lightsaber. Luckily for Axton it seemed as though they were committed to ignoring the commotion on the street, speeder crash included, and Vi rounded the corner behind Khai with her hands in her pockets, surprised by the lack of attention the whole scene had drawn.

But it seemed as though the Imperials, or men Axton believed to be aligned with the Empire, were on his tail just the same. And Vica could definitely sympathize there - she'd spent a lot of time on the run, and was technically still actively avoiding the Sith and the Empire on the whole - and as he explained the situation she nodded along, looking at least vaguely interested in assisting the stranger in his attempts to flee. Granted, she had her questions, like why he'd killed the Rodian if it would obviously give away his position, but maybe he had his reasons for acting in such a rash manner. Hell, even just wanton violence was technically a reason, and Vi was certainly in no place to judge if that happened to be the case.

It was when Axton turned to address her directly that her interest promptly waned. In fact, it plummeted straight into the ground, like the fragments of a starship that had exploded on takeoff. "Wow." Recoiling some as though he'd hit her, she took a step back from the impromptu Jedi meeting, her tone chipper with an obvious edge to it. "And here I thought being a patronizing little shit fell exclusively into the Order's purview." Vi didn't know whether or not Axton was a former Sith, or a rogue, or an exile, or whatever - but she would put money on anyone willing to drive a saber through a man's chest in the middle of broad daylight wasn't directly affiliated with any of the temples she'd lived in.

Looking to Khai, tilting her head up some to do so, she added after a beat: "No offense."

 

[Cale]

The patronising attitude that this murderer displayed towards Vica was certainly not endearing him to Khaimov. Nor was he particularly amused by the insinuation that he might sell the man out to the Imperials. The whole matter was somewhat distasteful to the Jedi Knight, and whilst he sympathised with the man's plight, there was a part of Khai that wondered just how much of it he'd brought upon himself with rash action. He glanced over at the supposed bounty hunter, and nodded. He certainly appeared to be as stated. Well armed, fully capable of defending himself, or taking in Axton if he got the chance.

That did not make him guilty of any particular crime, however, and whilst defending and protecting were the watchwords of the Order, Axton certainly did not need Khaimov's protection. The man was capable enough with his saber.

He looked at Vica and raised an eyebrow. "None taken. Unfortunately we do not have the monopoly on being patronizing." He turned back to the lost jedi. "As for your deal, I will not serve as your personal hitman. Especially not when there are other options available. Like simply leaving. So long as we avoid this Jethro's notice, he won't know where you've gone. And where I'm taking you, no-one will be able to find."