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Realms: These Shattered Stars Logs

Chapter Five, Part Five (Continued)

Freyja wakes up feeling luxuriously comfortable and warm, and in an extremely good mood. She sighs contentedly, curling up against her lovely furry sleeping companion as she lets her thoughts drift... she remembers yesterday. Lady bless... what a day! The attack, all the healing necessary... she doesn't even remember undressing for bed.

Hm... but she's undressed now...? She blinks -- then realizes what must have happened. Awww! That's so sweet! She beams happily, rubbing her cheek against Vakkal, and thinks she's probably the luckiest person in the universe to have such considerate friends. She yawns peacefully... then brightens -- oh, hai! Today she gets to go dancing -- and invite the bard to carry a message for her out of Hutt space! She hopes he'll accept the offer from her.

Freyja stretches with languid, contented grace, pointing her toes and raising her arms over her head, then grins and runs her fingers contentedly through Vakkal's ruff. "Hey, sleepy-head, want to go get breakfast when Fengwu arrives, and then go roaming around the city, and have some dancing?!"

Vakkal woke up pretty much as soon as Freyja stirred, and seems reasonably awake. He bobs his head. "Certainly, Freyja. Let me get dressed..."

Freyja grins happily at Vakkal, then looks around and wonders vaguely where Zero is. He doesn't seem to enjoy dog piling as much as Vakkal. Pity... and nor does Fhazil. She finds that odd. She'd have guessed he would have enjoyed it. Ah, well! She bounces lightly out of the bed and trots out of the room for the bathroom.

A second later she glances around a bit guiltily, realizing she should have located Fhazil first before trotting out in the almost nude. The poor guy doesn't want to 'fess up to his nudity taboo, so she shouldn't make it an issue. Fortunately she doesn't see him in the common room currently, so she happily goes and cleans up.

Approximately thirty seconds after Freyja has started the fresher, there comes from under the subdeck a muffled cry of surprise and dismay. "Waarrgh! The bilge!" Some moments later Zero trots wetly past Vakkal in the hallway. "Bilge's purged," he says quietly, in passing. A small cloud of gray dust and condensation trails the Grey Jedi. The suction ducts are apparently clear. Zero coughs quietly to himself while he waits his turn outside the fresher.

Vakkal blinks, watching Zero pass. "That's... good to know!" Hiding a sympathetic wince, he ducks back inside and decides that maybe for this morning he'll dry-groom.

Freyja is singing happily in the fresher, oblivious. When she comes out a few moments later, a towel wrapped around her, she blinks... then grins, "Your turn! I think you need it more than I... what happened?"

Zero coughs. A small cloud of dust emerges. "Bilge ducts are clear," he murmurs.

Freyja looks a little puzzled (not being terribly conversant with ship layouts, nor her part in poor Zero's current status), so she simply smiles and nods, "All right. We'll be going to breakfast soon, when Fengwu arrives. Want to come along?"

Zero says, "I should. She still has my sword case."

Freyja says, "Oh, good, hopefully she'll bring it along." Her nose wrinkles slightly in spite of herself, and she heads hastily for her bedroom, "Uh... see you once you've been cleaned up!"

Zero starts to peel out of his high-collared shirt. "It's more like recycling," he mutters to himself. He's just putting it all back where he found it.

About an hour later, when everyone has been neatly cleaned up, Fengwu arrives at the ship carrying Zero's sword case. The weather is still a little murky and a bit humid, which appears to be the standard for Tynnea; an early morning fog has swept over the valley.

Zero steps down onto the entrance ramp, wearing his boots, a pair of loose black pants tied on with a wide black sash, and a collarless white shirt trimmed in black. His sword is in his left hand, and he smiles as Fengwu approaches. "Ah, you took good care of it for me."

Fengwu smiles and bows. "I hope you don't mind that I waited until this morning to bring it by," she says, offering the case to him.

Zero shakes his head and takes it gingerly. "Of course not. Yesterday was... long, for everyone."

Fhazil seems a bit torn, but decides in the end he'll watch the ship in case someone comes by, and continue his check of its security systems. Freyja nods gravely to Fhazil, "That's a good idea. That way, too, if anyone attacks I can practice my biting you, later, like Vakkal recommends to get you out of battlemind." Her ice-blue eyes are dancing with mischief, even as her face remains so terribly solemn...

Fhazil blinks at that comment from Freyja, then deadpans, "Oh, did he say that, now? Well, remind me to tell you how to get him out of battlemind!" he says with a merry grin.

Freyja darts out of the cockpit, laughing! -and almost trips over Zero and Fengwu, "Oh! Heiyo, Fengwu! Are we all ready to go now? I'm starving!"

Fengwu nods soberly to Zero, then beams to Freyja. "Sah! There is a good place for food down the avenue that runs between berths eighteen and thirty...." Zero closes the blade in its case and sets the spring release, before trotting down the ramp. After yesterday, he'll settle for today being for quiet.

Freyja grins, "Lead the way then, Fengwu -- today is for fun and exploration!" She's in an extremely good mood as the group sets out. Her colorful long-coat is unbuttoned due to the humidity, swirling about her freely as she almost dances along the street, somewhat to the consternation of some of the passers-by -- can anyone be that happy on Tynnea?! She sings with quiet happiness to herself,
"Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of --
Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence...!"

Fengwu leads the way to the small eatery. It's a rather comfortable one, and is clearly meant for a different clientele than Dholman's. The noteworthy thing about it is its size. It seems to be little more than a roof over a counter which people sit at, and no more than four meters in circumference. It is not at all unlike some of the 'food bars' which would be found in some places at Qigong Palace on Sedrak, though the burly Trandoshan who runs the small place has probably never even heard of Sedrak. He seems to know Fengwu, however, and greets her in Huttee, which the girl returns. "Mr. Shnagh, these are my friends. Please treat them well."

Zero grins a little. This type of place he understands. He likes it already. Freyja looks around in bright-eyed interest, then smiles and nods politely to the Trandoshan, "Good morning!"

Zero nods, "Sah, Shnagh sir. Morning."

Shnagh bares his teeth in a Trandoshan smile. "Of course, Fengwu," he says in Aurabesh, in a voice that shakes the beams to the rickety little shack. "I have some soy grits porridge simmering, if you're interested in that, and a pot of the morning fire brewing. Anything else it'll take a few minutes to cook up."

Freyja wonders, with a raised eyebrow, what 'morning fire' is... then grins. She'll try anything once on such a nice day -- twice if the first time wasn't too painful! Zero mms, "Morning fire... that sounds like it's for me, aiyah."

The Trandoshan grins again and sets out a number of hot, steaming bowls of... blue goo. It's electric blue. Smells good, tastes even better, it's warm... but it's such a shade of electric blue that it's almost fluorescent. Meanwhile, Shnagh starts pouring out mugs of some impossibly thick, translucent tea-like liquid.

Freyja blinks again in startlement at the blue... er... food? -then grins, wondering what it is with blue food recently! First the wine, now this... she cheerfully gives it a try. Warm is almost always good! Zero grins, digging in. "'S'good. Exactly what I wanted this morning. Hot, simple food."

Freyja dribbles a blue spoonful back into the bowl as she chews experimentally, then grins at Zero. "Amazing color, hey?"

The Trandoshan serves the 'morning fire.' Fengwu politely declines it, and it's probably for the best. The aroma is distinctly caff, mixed with a mild sugar and some kind of protein base -- strong enough to catch a buzz just from sniffing it. Freyja studies and sniffs at it curiously... then grins and has a small cup. Can't hurt to have more energy on a morning when she intends to do a lot of dancing!

Zero grins a bit, lopsidedly. "Remind me to show you some of the seafood back home one day." He raises the cup and sips. "Enjoy, aiyah? The good times are harder to come by these days." He swallows hard, then smiles broadly at the cup. "Stang... this is good!"

Freyja laughs, her eyes dancing, "If it's like fury pods, then I'm not coming anywhere near your world's seafood -- without a big stick!" She giggles, then has a sip of the 'morning fire' -- her eyes widen as she swallows, and then she draws in a sharp breath, expelling it in a startled, "Whoo!" She blinks a few times, then laughs again, "Whoa! Bit sweet, not bitter... goes down well... and kicks like a slaypneer!" She giggles, then has another sip. She's quite ready to go dancing now -- maybe for the entire next week!

After the refreshing and very awakening breakfast, Fengwu asks the group where they would like to go next. Freyja waves a hand vaguely, her blue eyes bright with alertness, almost swaying in place with repressed energy, "Wherever you'd like, Fengwu -- let's have some fun, exploring!" If Freyja were any more awake, her fiery gold hair would be waving with a life of its own!

Fengwu looks a little embarrassed. "There isn't much to see or do in the Mos, I'm afraid. This is seen as little more than a way station. Supposedly there are some ruins east of the Mos but, erm... I can't go there..."

Zero says, "Ruins?"

Freyja smiles, "It doesn't have to be unique or riveting, Fengwu. We're just curious as to what the city's like. Oh, also, I have a friend playing music just north of the junkyard -- do you know the way there?" She smiles, adding quietly just for Fengwu, "And maybe at some point we can buy some meat rolls... and you can repay the vendor, hai?"

Fengwu nods. "Old ones, supposedly dating back to years of Xim the Despot. But I've never seen them." She brightens. "Sah, yes, the junkyard! It's just down this avenue!" At the mention of the vendor she blinks, then looks away, ears turning a bright shade of red in embarrassment.

Freyja leans so she's about eye-level with Fengwu, gently taking her hand and smiling. Her voice is low, just for the girl, "Don't feel bad, little sister... everyone has times where they're short, and times when they're flush. When you're flush, you don't forget your friends, hai?" She quietly palms a cred chip into Fengwu's hand as she does so. It's easily enough to buy them all meat rolls, twice over. "We can all go buy some later, hai?"

The girl nods quietly, biting her lip. "How long will it be before the Sedraki come for us, Lady?" she asks.

Freyja shakes her head, "Don't know for sure, Fengwu... within the year, though, I'm sure. The Hutt's people will arrive before then to remove the implants, too." She grins encouragingly, "Good news, hey?" She blinks, realizing what the girl said, then adds, "Er... and you can call me just Freyja here, all right?"

Fengwu nods, brightening. "Sah, Freyja!"

Freyja grins, "Thank you!" then straightens, her pace a lightly swaying walk next to her friends. She's so close to dancing right now that she even pirouettes every once in a while, causing her coat to flare out brilliantly.

Fengwu leads the group to the 'junkyard.' In actuality it's nothing like a discombobulated heap of garbage -- instead it more closely resembles a scrapping yard, where ships park and are broken down into their components for refurbishment and resale. Zero looks around from time to time. Good place for an ambush, he thinks to himself. Lots of machinery to get caught in. Still, good to see they're not leaving the ships to rust, and there's progress. Freyja looks around in interest, wondering where her bardic countryman is.

It doesn't take long to find the Balmorran. He is plucking at the sitar near the off-time area of the yard workers, with whom he seems to share a bit of camaraderie -- which is to say, as long as he doesn't step on anyone's toes (or other locomotive digits) he's welcome to play as long as he wants. It's early- to mid-morning, and most of the workers have begun the dayshift, leaving Fingolfin to play for idle passers-by.

Freyja brightens, heading that way. "Heiyo, bard Reykjasen! How're you doing today?"

The street troubadour looks up and smiles warmly. "Kuras Makkaisdottir! Good morning; thank you for coming by!"

Freyja grins happily, swaying in place, "Couldn't resist -- yesterday was hard work, so I promised myself today I could play!" She waves a hand, "This is Fengwu Youdo of Sedrak, and you've already met Vakkal and Zero, hai?"

Reykjasen grimaces a little. "Yes, yesterday. I haven't talked with anyone who really knows what happened, but Ameil is supposed to be giving a pronouncement later today." He inclines his head to Fengwu, and nods to Zero and Vakkal.

Freyja looks interested, "Oh, really? Oh... I'd like to hear that." She adds cheerfully, "We got our ship back, and Ameil closed down the fighting, so I'm happy!" She grins, her eyes almost glowing with anticipation as she drops a cred chip into his hat next to him, "So... may I ask for some dancing music, kuras?" Her glance at Vakkal and Zero is half hopeful, half regretful, "I... don't suppose either of you dance too?"

Vakkal blinks. "Ahh... I don't, I'm afraid. But perhaps Zero...."

Zero says, "Not I. Never learned how."

Reykjasen grins and nods, tuning some strings. "I think I have the right song...." He plucks a few chords, doing a few practice measures of Flute of Baldur.

Freyja smiles a bit wistfully at her friends, "Ah... I thought that might be the case." She grins, cheering up as the music starts, "That's all right! Unless someone objects, I'll just dance on my own -- it's not like there's an audience or I'm a professional, after all!"

Freyja twirls lightly on the toes of one foot, her arms arching out gracefully -- then hms. She hastily slips off her coat, then folds the upper half within the lower half, and belts it on about her hips. She studies it for a moment, giving her hips a firm shimmy -- then grins, "Much better! Impromptu, but still vaguely skirt-like!"

Zero arches a slightly amused eyebrow. "Heh. Well, at least no worries if it falls off."

Reykjasen pauses for a moment, then sets in on the song, the thirty-stringed sitar giving a quick-paced, light tune -- clearly Southern Balmorran, clearly a dancing tune, and one that Freyja remembers from her childhood. Freyja giggles at Zero. Then she beams happily at the bard and, when he starts the music, starts dancing.

Freyja very obviously loves to dance... she sings along quietly with the music as she dances when she knows the words, and when she doesn't, she simply dances -- swaying and whirling, her coat a flaring azure and crimson skirt about her. Occasionally she laughs for the sheer joy of the moment, her blue eyes alight with happiness, her graceful gestures unselfconscious with her abandonment to the music.

The troubadour plays energetically, his eyes closed as he plays the complicated song from memory, though he gets into the groove of his playing enough times to watch Freyja's dancing. The group gets a bit of an audience, and shortly the troubadour segues into another song: Dairmuid's Hooley, from the North -- another lively dancing number.

Freyja's golden skin gleams with the occasional flicker of sunlight through the lowering clouds, and her fiery gold hair forms a small cloud about her face from her movements. The athlete's top she wears is oddly appropriate, all things considered... it allows her freedom of movement and shows off her graceful arm and torso swaying, within the dance. That number ends and the audience applauds cheerfully; quite a few coins are dropped into the can nearby.

Freyja is vaguely aware of the applause, but is more taken with the music. Her environment is fading a bit in her consciousness to a circle of space where she's moving with no interruptions, and the music flowing and rippling about her like water, a tantalizing partner constantly and joyfully teasing her onwards to just one more! Even as she slows from one song, there's more of the lovely, lilting music, and she lights up and sways into the steps of the next song. She gets to dance to her heart's content! No one is insisting on lessons or duties or anything... just her, luxuriating in the wonderful feel of her body answering the call of the dance, of Light and life itself... she feels like she could dance forever!

Vakkal comments to Zero, "I knew she enjoyed dance, but not this much." He pauses. "Think we could make a fortune from selling that 'morning fire' as starship fuel? I'm sure it'd let us make the Kessel run in ten parsecs..."

Reykjasen starts to segue into another number -- The Waking of Usas, a more Southerly tune -- when he is startled by a fairly heavy *thud* falling into his can. The sound makes him strike a jarring chord, and he blinks at the person who dropped it into his can. "C-captain Thorn!" he stammers a little. "Thank you!"

Zero laughs softly to Vakkal. "Nine," he murmurs. "I liked that stuff."

Reykjasen remembers to keep playing a second after his hands hit that discordance. He continues on into The Waking of Usas as Thorn grins to the troubadour. "Hey -- Reykjasen, isn't it? Don't let me interrupt." He leans against the wall to the junkyard, a produce bag tucked neatly under his arm, watching Freyja's dancing.

Freyja is singing softly along with the music as she whirls in the arcing steps of the circle-dance, oblivious to the world around her. The bright royal blue 'skirt' shines next to golden skin, and her eyes are half closed, her hair lightly brushing her face. Her graceful arms describe a complicated golden pattern in the air before her as she sings,
"We move through miracle days
Spirit moves in mysterious ways
She moves with it
She moves with it
Lift my days, light up my nights;
She moves in mysterious ways...!"

The troubadour manages to tune out the presence of the politely quiet and appreciative enforcer, playing through the song and even adding a few measures of the chorus at the end for Freyja to continue her dancing.

Freyja loves the song about the mystery of the Lady of Dawn, and Her revelation to her disciples through dance was always one of Freyja's favorites. She's gotten to the point where she's not really completely aware Reykjasen is adding to the song -- she's just reacting fluidly to the music. As long as it continues and her energy holds out, so too shall she continue. Reykjasen runs through the song, completing it finally with a flourish amidst applause from the entire audience, not the least of which is Thorn's own applause.

Freyja blinks a bit, looking faintly startled at the applause. She hadn't yet fully realized she had an audience -- but before she can get self-conscious about it, Reykjasen wisely and swiftly swings into yet another piece. This one is the slower, almost dreamily languid music of Belle's Valse -- an excellent song both for the musician to rest his hands a bit, and for the dancers to lose themselves in each other. It is, after all, a couple's dance... but Freyja will make do with an imaginary partner, rather than bow out! She sings along quietly with the popular piece, smiling dreamily to herself,
"I know you,
I've met you in all my dreams...
I know you,
That look in your eyes is so familiar, it seems...!"

Freyja's dreamy singing is echoed -- no, a sonorous voice actually joins in with her, singing in a not altogether unpleasant manner. Certainly not professional, but definitely a voice which has heard that song quite a few times in the past.
"But I know it's true
Visions are seldom all that they seem
But if I know you
I know what you'll do..." It is Thorn, grinning quietly as he moves next to the dancing Balmorran, and as she notices him he bows in a reasonably graceful gesture: the request of a gentleman to waltz with a lady.

Freyja's eyes fly open in startlement at the voice singing with her, and she looks up into Thorn's face. The slightly bemused thought flickers through her mind -- she's not used to looking up for Humans -- and then he takes her hand gently in his, stepping politely into position, still smiling. She blinks up at him again... then laughs softly. "Certes, why not?" Her grin is almost mischievous as she lets him swirl her around into the close-joined steps of the rather familiar couple's dance.

Thorn is not a professional dancer either, but neither is he a tyro. He holds her perhaps just a shade closer than one would at a formal affair -- and it's very clear he enjoys waltzing. That, coupled with leading strongly and well through the intricate steps of the waltz, turn the waltz into a well-matched, graceful, extremely enjoyable experience for Freyja and him both.

Freyja falls easily into the sway of the dance, leaning back into Thorn's arms and trusting he'll direct her properly. Her eyes are half closed with pleasure again, and her hair's gentle caress on her face feels as light as feathers... as she turns and whirls, whirls and turns again, with her unexpected partner.

Thorn's booted feet seem to find the steps with ease, and he holds Freyja's waist comfortably, closely, just enough and a little more to keep her joined in the whirls of the waltz which make her long-coat's tails rise up. This is hardly the venue a Balmorran aristoi would be found dancing in, but he dances with her as easily and confidently as if it were the Grand Ballroom of the Moot or of Haus Rigg.

It's easy for Freyja to get lost in savoring the sensuality of the moment -- the steady, warm arm about her bare waist; the driftingly languid, enticing music; the heat of her partner, whirling close... she's startled and faintly disappointed when the music gently fades away. Her soft, "awww-!" cuts off with wry amusement, though, when she sees Reykjasen tiredly shaking out the fingers of one hand and smiling at her. She just grins ruefully... then blinks, looking back up at the captain with a slightly cautious smile. "Ah... thank you... I, ah... didn't know you danced...?"

Thorn grinned, releasing Freyja's waist after a moment more to bow over her hand. "I learned a very long time ago, but I have tried to keep in practice." Freyja is aware the captain was a bit more touchy-close than would be considered strictly proper... but her mood is extremely pleased enough that she feels she could forgive almost anything -- she's having a truly lovely time!

She's still slightly breathless from the dance, but she grins herself and drops a proper curtsey. Her free hand neatly swirls out her makeshift blue skirts as she was taught, as Thorn bows over her other hand, which looks small in his larger, calloused one. "Ah... well, you dance very nicely, thank you!" She straightens... then tilts her head slightly as she studies him in silent curiosity. She smiles a bit mischievously, wondering if he wears such an... abbreviated top because it's practical -- or because Ameil seems to favor such!

Thorn's grin widens. "Not nearly as well as you, I should say." He dips his head, almost but ever-so-not-quite touching his lips to her hand. "I'd never thought I'd hear Belle's Valse this far out on the Rim -- least of all dance to it...."

Freyja beams with a touch of pride at the tired bard gently working his fingers to keep them warm and loose, "Bard Reykjasen is good! I'm hoping he'll go apprentice on Balmorra." She covers a sudden giggle, her ice blue eyes mischievous, and can't resist temptation! -she grins wickedly, remembering Ameil's description of her enforcer, "So, what is a nice dashing-Corellian-space-pirate like yourself... doing in a place like this?!"

Thorn laughs. "'Dashing'? Well, I try to be, certainly. And if you mean what am I doing in Hutt Space, it is simple enough to tell: my crew and I are seeking fortune and a flag." He blinks a bit, then grins. "The troubadour? Hai, I can see that. I hope so as well; he's very good."

Freyja gives him a curious look at the 'hai,' then studies him a bit more closely, trying to gauge his age. How long has he been in the Balmorran sector, that he not only has picked up Balmorran phrasing, but still remembers it after a year in Hutt space? Hm... more to the point, is he likely to be able to recognize her?

Freyja decides it's unlikely he'll recognize her in the mousy, holovid-shy person she was until extremely recently... she tilts her head again in puzzlement, "A... flag? Explain, please? Well, neh, a moment, please..." She turns to her friends and smiles, "Lunch? Dholman's?" She grins over her shoulder at the big enforcer, "You've not met any of us formally, have you... I hight Freyja Makkaisdottir, that's Vakkal and Zero Satau, and that's Fengwu Youdo. Care to join us?" She adds cheerfully, "You already know bard Fingolfin Reykjasen, hai?"

Vakkal seems to have been frozen in some kind of loop that locks his expression into something approaching wide-eyed surprise. When Freyja addresses him he blinks and breaks (partly) out of it. "Lunch? Oh... uh... lunch! Sounds good!"

Freyja gives Vakkal a puzzled glance, then whispers quietly in his mind, What's up, Vakkal? Something wrong?

Thorn bows. "I hight Thorn Falk, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Kuras Makkaisdottir. And you as well, Kurasai Vakkal, Satau, Saido." He grins. "And, yes, I know of Fingolfin Reykjasen, but haven't met him before. Dholman's sounds very good."

Freyja brightens, waving to include those currently from this planet, "Then let's go eat -- my treat, hai?" Thorn retrieves the package he'd been carrying, and walks with the group to Dholman's.

Vakkal's response is a little cautious. No, nothing wrong, I assure you. That was just surprising; the dance, I mean.

Freyja is relieved the captain is falling naturally into using 'kuras' for her, although she is curious to hear 'Thorn' is his first name, not his surname, as she'd initially assumed. She grins, pacing along light-footedly next to him as she re-constitutes her makeshift skirts back into a proper, buttoned long-coat -- better, she thinks, to go well clad into a spacer's bar! "So... you were saying, about a flag...?" She whispers softly, mentally, to Vakkal, Surprising? Howso? Is there something wrong with his scent, or something? Did he do something rude I didn't notice?

Thorn explains cheerfully, "Well, as you may have guessed, we left the Republic some time ago when we weren't able to operate the way we liked. The Trade Federation and shipping guilds were arming their ships more and more strongly, and the Guard had caught our scent. So we left quickly, and made our way here. And now we look for our fortunes and, as I said, a flag we may live and fight under."

Vakkal mentally shakes his head. On the contrary, he's the exact opposite of how Fhazil told me Hutt enforcers are. Fengwu, for her part, is as quiet as a mouse, trying hard to not be noticed by Thorn.

Freyja tilts her head curiously to look up at the captain, "What's wrong with Ameil's, er... does she have a flag, or is this strictly metaphorical?" With curious fascination she whispers to Vakkal, Really? How are they? I've never met one before...? She pauses, reflecting... then says slowly, "The Guard..." She blinks, shaking her head in amusement at herself, "I'm cheerfully discussing how irritating the Trade Federation is to a former-space-pirate-turned-Hutt-enforcer. Considering it's probably folks like me the Guard protects against folks like you..." She grins, "This really is outside the Republic!" She laughs in soft rue at herself.

Thorn grins widely and half-bows. "I promise you, Kuras, there's not a thing you need worry about from I or my crew. Spoken in Truth." He straightens a little. "Partly metaphorical. We will stand by Ameil for as long as we can. She's been a good employer to us, and she's treated us well. I like to think we've returned her favor in kind."

Freyja's frosty blue gaze is coolly amused, and her tone is very dryly teasing, as she looks up at the captain, "Is this due to the doubtless terrifying circumstances of our first face-to-face meeting... or are you one of those romantic swashbucklers of myth and legend that has a thing about not assaulting ladies?" She grins a bit mischievously... then looks puzzled again as she considers the rest of his statement, "I... am obviously missing something here. Could you define 'flag' for me, please... and why it may require you to leave Ameil?"

Thorn says, "Well, both, actually. I wouldn't wish to assault a lady at all. Plus... well, I admit I have never been quite that close to a lightsaber before!" He nods. "Of course. A flag, in the sense of... a nation, or a cause, a goal or life-mission. As for Ameil... well, it has never been said we would abandon our patron. It never will be said, if I have a say in the matter."

Freyja laughs, enjoying his ease with her being a Jedi, despite being a Hutt enforcer. A moment later she pauses, considering again... then says slowly, "Are you really from Corellia originally?"

He shakes his head. "No, but most people outside -- and inside! -- the Republic see a Human and they think, 'He's scruffy. Ah! He's from Corellia!' or, 'What regal bearing. Must be Alderaanian!' I always thought Balmorra should have more due to it than being a third thought of what a given Human's home world might be."

Freyja's expression stills... then she pragmatically points out to herself that just because he might be from Balmorra doesn't mean he'll automatically yell her identity to everyone here! She looks thoughtful, remembering a bit of information -- 'falk' is an antiquated Balmorran word for 'falcon'... but that matches no Balmorran family Freyja knows about. She murmurs softly, "Hm..." then looks up at him curiously again, searching his face and trying to see what he reminds her of. A Northern Balmorran, maybe? She smiles faintly, "All right, I'll bite. What haus do you originally hail from, Thorn of Falcons?"

A second later she giggles, "I'll be polite, though, and not mention the scruffy, how's that?" She grins cheerfully, her gaze teasing as she slips into Dholman's, following Vakkal. He's not replied yet... she'll have to ask again when he isn't being distracted. She wonders if that's why Thorn is looking for a 'flag' -- his original haus was destroyed or something, perhaps generations ago?

Thorn laughs. "Very well. Once upon a distant star, I was Ullr Weiland Skaldr of Haus Skaldr."

Haus Skaldr. That name certainly brings back memories. It was in the reign of Tyr Rigg, the first Rigg to hold a voting seat on the Moot, and to bring Haus Rigg to such prominence after millennia of being merely 'first amongst equals' among the Human nobility of Balmorra.

But as things often go, it did not go smoothly.

There was never any serious threat to the ascension of the Riggs; indeed, all of the Human houses were simply pleased beyond words to see a return to prominence of the traditionally pre-eminent Haus. But there was some tension. Haus Skaldr had been enfiefed to Haus Rigg in millennia past. With the gradual decline of Haus Rigg, Skaldr in time claimed enough land and resources to make a bid for their own sovereignty, of sorts. They were not truly independent -- like most Hausen, they were sworn to another. But instead of the baronets of Haus Rigg, they had gained enough prominence to have their oath of fealty taken by Count Mis Thashalhan -- making them, at least in title, equal to Haus Rigg.

Like the other Hausen, Skaldr recognized the traditional position of Haus Rigg as first amongst equals. Also like most of the others, the leaders of Haus Skaldr were more than happy to support Rigg's ascension to a full baronial title after too long away from it. But then it came time for the reapportioning of fiefdoms, and snags were hit. The topic was brought up of "Lands held ancestrally by Haus Rigg." These lands included, of course, territory held by Haus Skaldr, once by enfiefment, and most recently, essentially by fiat.

It would never be called a 'war,' a 'conflict,' or even a 'battle.' The weapons were words and letters, the battlefield the Moot chambers; promises, oaths, and politics. In the end, the blood had gotten so bad, the arguments so heated, and Skaldr holding so tightly to what they saw as their birthright, that the Moot grew impatient and angry. Skaldr was ordered to swear fealty to Haus Rigg, and state publicly the lands they held now were held in fief to Rigg. The penalty... was never stated. It was not so much a threat, as what Skaldr would simply have to do.

Skaldr refused.

In their refusal, they cited hundreds of reasons why they would not want to surrender their holdings. Amongst them was a desire to continue to serve the people they had been aristoi to for millennia. Few in the Moot, by that time, even bothered to acknowledge that. All they had come to see was the temerity of Haus Skaldr.

Tyr Rigg, however, was wiser than the Rodian and Trandoshan nobles of the world gave him credit for. He knew Forsetti Skaldr was aristoi through and through, and had the welfare of the Skaldr retainers and kurasai at heart. Barely had his marriage to the daughter of the Rodian former owner of Cyteller Automaton been completed, than he was back to the diplomatic tables, struggling to find a middle ground between Rigg and Skaldr -- one that maintained Skaldr's dignity, yet acknowledged Rigg's new position.

But there was little that could be done. The deadline imposed by the Moot approached. When it was clear there could be no proper resolution that would be genuinely satisfying to all parties, Forsetti did the only thing he felt his family honor would allow. After securing promises of his peoples' welfare from Tyr Rigg -- promises the Baron was already willing to make -- Forsetti Skaldr took his immediate family and closest retainers, and took his household to Balmorra's moon, with permission of the Stromvalt. In a remote region where the land was simply not good enough to till or sow or graze, Forsetti Skaldr founded a small manse where, until the day of his death twenty years later, he would rack his brain to find a future for his Haus.

The Skaldr name was known, for a time. Occasional small gatherings would take place at the manse. After the death of Forsetti, however, many of his children left to find their way in the galaxy. Thorn -- or, rather, Ullr Weiland Skaldr -- would not have been one of Forsetti's children. But perhaps a grandchild, after the exodus...

Freyja blinks slowly as she reviews her teachings, then says softly, half under her breath, "Oh... dear..." She takes a deep, slow breath, then helps herself to some of the bready food set on the table, to give herself a moment to consider. Why didn't Thorn just re-join Haus Ri- er, neh. She can answer that one herself... he just isn't the type to get along with her father! She gives the former Skaldr a half-sympathetic, half-regretful glance from beneath her golden bangs as she chews and considers.

Half-amusedly Freyja thinks to herself, Why does the Force do this to me?! Couldn't it trust me a little bit less to fix things? She smiles ruefully, internally... it pokes her because she's here and she's the right person for the job, she guesses. She sighs softly... her grandfather had tried his best, she knows. She's not sure what she could do that he hadn't try already... well... she'll just have to think really, really hard, she supposes. She finally just murmurs quietly, looking into her mug, "I'm so sorry."

Vakkal's mental tone is wry and amused as he finally answers her previous question, Well, words like 'slavering,' 'barely sapient,' and 'gleeful murderers' seem to have been involved. Freyja blinks again, looking up in startlement at Vakkal... then bites her lip to keep from laughing inappropriately!

Then she turns her quiet, ice-blue gaze back on the strange man she's talking with. Her guess is he's perhaps ten to fifteen years older than she... and hai, he's pretty clearly Northern Balmorran. Still, there were a few North Balmorran hausen with more Southern names. If the Skaldr were originally retainers, they might have taken a more Southern name when they were given a title of their own.

Thorn's grin becomes a little more gentle. "Ah, I see you recognize the Haus name, then." Freyja bites her lip and looks back down at her mug, nodding silently once. Thorn's voice is light-toned. "I never knew the life of the aristoi, Kuras. It is not something I can even have the capability to miss or wish for."

Freyja looks back up at Thorn, then says thoughtfully, "You are... grandson? Would you be the Arving lord?" She pauses at his comment, then says, "Well... if I am being rude, please feel free to ask me to change the subject."

"Not at all, Kuras. The Last Skaldr was my grandfather, yes. From what my mother taught me, I would not be Arving Lord of Skaldr. She had an elder sister, Lindehilde, who would have inherited."

Freyja nods quietly... then asks curiously, "Do you ever wish to go back? To Balmorra, I mean?" She realizes with quiet amusement that Thorn is... about the same age as her betrothed. Small universe.

Thorn shakes his head. "I never knew Balmorra outside of a few visits and the lessons at my mother's knee. And I honestly have never felt the desire to. It is not the place for me -- and I don't mean because of this name I have." He grins softly. "Besides, at this point we wouldn't be exactly welcome."

Freyja studies him silently for a moment, then simply nods, "So... you're happy with how things are for you?" She wonders a bit bemusedly how someone could actually like having no haus, no family... is he sick? Neh, that can't be it -- she knows there are theoretically lots of people without hausen. She just... wouldn't want to go there herself. She wonders a little confusedly what the Force wants from her, in regards to this man.

Thorn grins softly. "'Happy,' yes, but restless enough to always seek improvement," he says with a laugh. "I am not unhappy with who and what I am."

Freyja rests her chin in her hands and regards Thorn with bemusement, "Huh. Well, if you're happy..."

Thorn observes Freyja for a moment, then nods. "You are wondering how one who was born and essentially raised in a Haus could take to such a wild life so lacking in responsibility, neh?"

Freyja grins and shakes her head, "Neh, was wondering what it'd be like to be, in effect, haus-less by choice." She considers a moment more, then curiously asks, "So... what sort of quest are you seeking, then?"

He smiles quietly. "It's a little scary sometimes. In lean times, you can wonder where your next meal might come from, let alone who you'll find as your next patron. But I wouldn't wish to leave the freebooting life." He grins. "What quest... ah, the staple of the romances. I have one, but I must make a request of you before I tell it: that you not laugh." His grin is a little merry as he says this. Freyja nods quietly, not smiling. She knows that fear, and can respect that wish.

He drops his voice and says in utter deadpan seriousness, albeit with that light in his eyes, "We look for someone we can... how does it go... 'swear our swords to.' Someone or some cause or some nation or... well, flag, with a goal and a dream. We may like the freebooting life, we would not want to give it up, but if we can live that life for something... well, that makes all the difference in the worlds, doesn't it?"

Freyja nods quietly, still not smiling, "Hai. I suppose that's how I see the Force." A bit wistfully she wishes she had a quest such as he desires, to offer him. She can recognize and appreciate real value and integrity when she sees it -- what a waste, to not have the right treasure to attract such a person!

Freyja wonders if she can think of something for him... the Force must have brought her here to lunch with him for a reason, after all. Hm... then again, perhaps she should find out a bit more first, so she can make better-informed decisions. Curiously she asks, "So you say you're not interested in Balmorra... if I may ask, how do you feel about Haus Rigg?"

Thorn makes a noncommittal gesture. "I suppose that we have stories from millennia past of hausen which were wronged, and their progeny carrying on the vendetta generations later. I have no illusions of going back to Balmorra to force the issue. The people have lived under Haus Rigg for two or three generations now, and they're comfortable and cared for. If they were being mistreated, that would be another story, but as it is, I am well enough glad there is no need to go there and attempt to assert Skaldr's claims.

Freyja nods thoughtfully, "To my knowledge stories there are none, concerning anger with Haus Rigg." She smiles, adding, "I always thought it was a nice touch that the Tyr Rigg named his Arving son Forsetti, also."

Thorn smiles. "I'd heard that from my mother, but it was always one of those things which we were not certain of. Though if true, it would be a good gesture."

Freyja considers, then says, "I do not know of a surety... I never met the man. But it seems the sort of thing he would do." She adds musingly, "Naming the child so is certainly the sort of thing the Rodian baroness-lady would do also..." Then she grins, her eyes slightly mischievous, "So, dare I ask what dreadful act of derring-do caused the Rapier to so swiftly need to absent itself from Republic space?"

Thorn laughs. "Well, we had been raiding quietly in the sector. We call it 'hiding in the gundark's shadow.' The trick is to be even less of a threat than your rival corsairs. We'd done well, and my crew and I were very pleased. We hadn't killed anyone, and we took little enough for upkeep and some profit, such that we were likely listed under 'thieves' than actual 'pirates.' The Guard tends to do 'triage' of sorts, going after the brigands who are more than just a nuisance."

"Then the weirdest thing happened. We hit a freighter heading gal-east carrying a bunch of combat droids. We try not to hit military shipments, since they usually have a big Guard escort with marines on board as well. Lots of people get hurt, and it's a good way to get unwanted attention from the Guard. Besides, war droids are too hot for most fences to deal with, and who wants a Viper XP-134 running around in the underworld? But this one was right in our path -- and they had no escort or marines at all. Weird as anything. So we figure we can at least get some low-level 'cannon fodder' infantry battledroids off of them, and they'll be good for a chop-shop."

Freyja's eyes widen, and she straightens slowly, her blue-eyed gaze suddenly getting very intent. Thorn continues, "So we do the hit-and-fade by the book, if pirates had books, and the next thing we know we've hit the middle-top of the sector's most-wanted list!"

Freyja nods slowly, "Hai, you would be... you stumbled across trading done between the Sith and a traitor to the Republic, who's very highly placed." She takes a slow breath, then says carefully, "Do you still have the information on that ship?" Please say hai, please please please! She knows what kind of droids Thorn is talking about -- the non-sentient kind sent out when you don't want high-level droids to get hurt... like a disposable army.

Thorn's brows shoot way up. "You're kid- no, of course you're not kidding. Stang! If I'd known that, I'd have just torpedoed the freighter. Uh, I think we have some info buried in our databanks -- name, registry, manifest scans -- but we didn't really inspect the captain's papers."

Freyja mutters vehemently, "Sheisse!" then sighs, "Well... may I ask you for that information, please? I would very much like to send it on to some authorities?"

Thorn nods. "Certainly you may. Won't they be suspicious as to where it came from, however?"

Freyja grins, "Neh. I'll be sending it to my Jedi Master, and he'll send it on to the Order itself. It's an issue we've already, ah... ruffled some lekku over." She adds gravely, "And hai, I never kid. Jedi have their sense of humor removed upon being accepted to the Order." She manages to hold the deadpan look for about three seconds... then bursts into giggles at Thorn's incredulous expression!

Thorn blinks, then laughs. "You know," he says, chuckling, "I was about to ask if it hurt when they did that!"

Freyja grins cheerfully, her eyes dancing, "Tsk, haven't you heard not to believe everything a smiling spacer tells you?" She adds interestedly, "Which reminds me... do you know of anyone going to Gyndine any time soon? I want to buy passage for one, if I can." She looks around curiously, "I wonder if Ameil's announcement today will affect shipping prices at all?"

Thorn grins. "I have heard that, and I've said it as well. Gyndine? That's the Jedi planet in a Republic client state, isn't it?" He considers for a moment. "I don't know. Most people around here do their very best to avoid Jedi. I can see what I can do, though. This is for Reykjasen, isn't it? Ah, it'll be a shame to see him go, but he does deserve better." He arches an eyebrow. "Ameil's announcement? What announcement is that?"

Freyja says, "About what happened yesterday." She leans to gently tap Reykjasen's arm, to distract him from the conversation the other end of the table is having, "Excuse me, please? Didn't you say there was an announcement from Ameil due later today, regarding what happened yesterday? Oh!" She brightens, adding, "And did you do well today, as far as tips? If I helped any, I'll be quite pleased!"

Reykjasen blinks, then bobs his head. "Yes, there was going to be something about the attack. And I did, thank you, Freyja! I haven't gotten quite so much in the can in a long time. Thank you very much for all your help!"

Freyja beams at Reykjasen, immensely pleased she could help, "Oh, good! I'm so glad. Um... so, may I talk to you later about a possible gig for me?"

Reykjasen nods again, "Of course. I'm always available for performances," he says, grinning.

Freyja smiles, "Thank you!" then turns back to Thorn to hear his reply.

"Ah," Thorn says, "-that announcement. Well, around here people tend to hedge their bets. If a financial war is about to start between Ameil and Thorghul, then most people will figuratively find shelter. There'll be some who step to the fore, though, and brave the risks and make a killing."

Freyja tilts her head, considering... then just nods, "I see. Well, I don't envy them their upcoming spat, or what will happen to their people... I hope it works out relatively smoothly." She sighs with quiet rue, adding, "Even though I don't expect it to..."

"Well, it never is really pretty when Hutts collide. All that mass... but seriously, as long as Ameil and Thorghul keep it between themselves and their enforcers, it won't be so bad. Things like what happened yesterday really don't happen all that often."

Freyja murmurs quietly, "Sure hope not... but considering what I've heard about Thorghul's connections, I'm not holding my breath." She studies the ex-patriate Balmorran and says quietly, "May I offer some unasked-for advice? Don't assume on Thorghul's good nature. I'm not sure, but I believe the droid-carrying ship is indirectly connected to one of his rather nastier contacts."

Thorn assures Freyja that he only trusts most Hutts about half as far as he can thrown them, and Thorghul not even that. But he is disquieted when he is told that there may be a connection between Thorghul, and what sent him and his crew packing out of Republic space for the furthest place from a bright center of the universe. After a little more idle chat, Thorn excuses himself, partly because he needs to get back to the ship and partly, "Because my first officer gets irritable when I don't get his oranges in the preserver fresh enough," he says, as he holds up the package.

Freyja grins, waving to the captain, "Can't have irritable Rodians around, definitely!" She grins again over the heads of the others, to Vakkal, after the captain has left. Her eyes are dancing with mischief as she comments in mock surprise, "No slavering!"

Vakkal comments wryly, "No, no slavering yet... but I haven't seen how his Rodian will eat those oranges..."

Freyja laughs! -then sips her drink, listening idly to the others chat for a bit. A moment later she comments quietly to the bard, "So... may I ask a favor of you? I'd like to hire you to do something traditionally bardic, at least on Balmorra... I need a neutral to carry a message for me. Would you be interested in that?"

Reykjasen blinks, then nods, inclining his head. "I'd be honored in troth, Kuras Makkaisdottir, to be your voice in whatever you ask of me," he replies formally.

Freyja smiles, answering equally formally (if also quietly), "I shall be in your debt, grandfather bard, for your discretion in this matter." She considers a moment, then adds a bit wryly, "I fear I shall not be able to pay excessively, however. I am sorry for that. Would it be acceptable if your payment were passage to Gyndine? That is where I need the message taken to."

Reykjasen's eyes widen, and he bows his head. "Kuras... Lady... that would be more than even I could ever hope to repay -- even by carrying a message of whatever import."

Freyja smiles, lightly and casually resting a hand on his arm, "Just kuras here, please, grandfather." If he's quick, the bard might even notice the faintest hint of worry in her eyes, for just a fraction of a second, as he calls her 'lady.' Then she smiles again, "If this is acceptable to you, it would mean a great deal to me." She considers a moment, thoughtfully tracing a curving, interwoven circle-wheel pattern in the dampness on the table as she considers. Finally she slowly says, "I shall have to record it all, I fear -- it grows more lengthy by the hour, it seems, and will contain vital technical data. However, if you could give the datachip to a certain person, then wait a few days in case there is a response... I would be quite grateful?"

"I will gladly do as you ask, Kuras. What response would I be awaiting?"

Freyja hesitates, then says quietly, "Perhaps we could discuss this further on the Eclipse, where it's a bit more... quiet?" She isn't yet sure how to prepare the bard for realizing who he's delivering messages for, or to... and if she can figure out a way to smooth his transition to Balmorra, she'd like to do that also.

It takes but a moment for the bard to understand Freyja means one of the alternative definitions of 'quiet.' "Of course, Kuras," he says.

Following lunch with Captain Thorn, Freyja and the troubadour are aboard the Eclipse. Zero is exploring the city under tow from Fengwu, and Fhazil and Vakkal are sparring in the cargo hold/practice room.

Freyja settles down at the common room's fold-down table with Reykjasen, after making sure they both have a nice hot mug of something to drink. "Let's see... you'll want to know who you're delivering the message and the chip to. There's a Jedi Master on Gyndine called Roakkana of Kashyyyk. He's a Wookiee, unsurprisingly... I'd like you to give him the chip, and also tell him Freyja Makkaisdottir sends her love and respects, and she and everyone are doing well." She takes a sip, considering, then smiles at the bard, "Got that? Any questions so far?"

Reykjasen nods, "I understand. No, no questions; except how might I find him? I've never been to Gyndine before."

Freyja says, "Well, from what I've been told, not only is he relatively distinctive, but he'll be near the port." She grins wryly, "I've also been told there are a lot of Jedi on Gyndine, so I imagine they all know how to find each other." She adds cheerfully, "He's very nice too, from what I've seen."

He nods, smiling. "I'll look for him, then, even if it takes a while."

Freyja says, "Shouldn't take long. Just please be careful not to tell anyone about the chip or the message or me, and make sure he's in private when you talk to him." She thinks a bit, then adds, "So... as I said before, I'd also like you to wait a few days for a possible reply. I'm sure Master Roakkana will make sure you're taken care of for that time." She adds slowly, "It is my hope that eventually you'll end up on Balmorra. When you get there... there may be some people who'll want to talk to you." She tilts her head thoughtfully, asking, "How do you feel about Haus Jotunsen? The old Stromvalt just died, and his son is going to inherit... and he may be one of the people who'd like to talk to you."

Reykjasen considers for a moment. "Well, I think it would be more of a matter of how they feel about me, since my mother left without much preamble and for... less than honorable reasons, I imagine is how it was seen."

Freyja looks curious, "Do you know what happened? Er, that is, if you don't mind my asking?"

Fingolfi says, "I don't know too much about what happened, but I guess Mother's desire to find better or maybe even just different opportunities sort of overshadowed her desire to remain. It wasn't a terribly happy departure, I think. I don't remember more than one or two other people seeing us off at the Macronainsberg spaceport when we left."

Freyja murmurs softly, "Ah... I'm sorry, Fingolfi." She's silent a moment, sipping her tea... she's always slightly baffled at someone willing to dump family, but doesn't want to be rude. Instead she simply continues, "All right. Well, I don't know if it'll happen or not, but just to give you some background, the Arving lord now is Fafnir, the third child, and he's betrothed to one of the Haus Rigg girls. Um... the reason I mention this is that you may have folks interested in talking to you about here... and I'd like to ask if you could please not mention me at all to anyone you talk to, on Balmorra..." she grins wryly again, "-except, goddess forbid they should ask to talk to you, the Baroness Rigg or the Jotunsen Arving lord." She looks a little sheepish as she adds, "They... have both been kind to me, in different ways, even if they're not aware of it."

Reykjasen blinks, then nods slowly. "Ah. I see, my La- Kuras Makkaisdottir. I shan't mention you at all except to those two. Not the Baron Rigg?"

Freyja shakes her head, "Don't think he'll be interested... and I imagine the Baroness would tell him if he was, neh?" She considers, then says slowly, "I... don't know how well the Arving lord remembers me anyway... we only met briefly, at the party for his betrothal." She sighs quietly, "He seemed nice... I felt a bit sorry for him."

She looks up at a sudden thought, "Hey... that might be nice. May I ask a favor of you? I know you'll end up with a bard master to apprentice to, and probably wandering about quite a bit. If you felt like it, maybe you could keep an ear out for anything curious about other hausen which the Jotunsen Arving lord might find interesting. That could be a nice way to say thank you, if you wanted?" She knows bards are careful about their independence from the hausen, so she asks as open-endedly as she knows how.

Reykjasen nods slowly, looking seriously to Freyja. "I... think I understand." He nods, "And I will consider doing that, certainly."

Freyja smiles, curiously tilting her head, "What do you understand, if I may ask?"

"Uhm. Why I should not mention you to anyone but the Baroness Rigg and the Arving Lord -- I mean, he'll be Stromvalt soon, won't he? If the elder Jotunsen's passed away, that is."

Freyja nods quietly, "Hai, he will be soon, I imagine. It must be a hard time for him." She considers a moment, then realizes the probable reasoning Reykjasen's using, since he doesn't know the Rigg family. He must be guessing she's the Baroness' paramour's child. That, coupled with a perceived interest in the Jotunsen son... and the Baron would certainly not approve of such a potential threat to his legitimate offspring!

Freyja grins quietly, not asking for further explanations. It would potentially embarrass him, and besides, bards don't pry when asked to be messengers -- it's simply Not Done. Returning the favor seems only courteous, after all. Instead she just smiles, adding, "And please feel free to talk as freely as you like with Master Roakkana. I trust him implicitly."

He nods. "I will do so, yes. Is there anything in particular you wish me to deliver, or word to pass on?"

Freyja says, "Just what I've told you, please? I'll give you the chip just before you go... I need to add a bunch of stuff to it."

Freyja intends to tell Master Roakkana all about Tynnea's current situation (including, although she doesn't yet know it, information about the small pre-Jedi temple or monastery on Tynnea, as well as Ameil's permission for polite, non-intervening Jedi to come study there, to farsee the memories; a warning about the last lightsaber, and that it's been found already; the current political situation on Tynnea, and how the little group of Eclipse crew affected it; the extremely interesting reason as to why Captain Thorn fled to Tynnea from the Republic, with all the associated ship information, and ramifications -- like Mandalorians). She also will include a coded message for her mother, which will contain much the same information, but also include her sincere condolences for Fafnir, as well as an apology for not being at his side for support when his father died.

She also wants to update her mother and Fafnir (as the person who'll be most running the family once her parents are gone -- which hopefully won't be any time soon!) as to the political ramifications of the Balmorran droids' sale to the Sith, and who she suspects. As she did with Master Roakkana, she warns her family to please be extremely careful, including the Jotunsen offspring, as Kalatis has already tried killing her and Zero once, and is probably suspicious of the young Jotunsen daughter on Coruscant -- which would explain his suddenly moving to Sedrak. She notes with amusement the irony of his going there, if he expects there to be no Jedi there any more... then more seriously notes the attack on the governor of Tanaab as a likely example of the Senator's ruthlessness.

She will also be worriedly mentioning the Mandalorian after the former Skaldr son, and wonders if there's a link between that Mandalorian, and the one that used to be with Count Mis -- strangely interesting that it should be suddenly absent at such a time, hai? -and that the supposed assassin was so thoroughly obliterated. As far as she knows, Mandalorians tend to be pragmatic professionals -- overkill, to them, is a waste of energy.

What she'll realize eventually, and perhaps a little uncomfortably, is that maybe it wasn't Kalatis who had something to do with the governor's condition. Also, it will hit her that the Count's Mandalorian is simply not there as often as he was before. He shows up now and then, but he's marked more by his presence than his absence... and the governor of Tanaab's injury is a bit far away for Kalatis' usual reach. It seems more likely it's the Sith. Destabilizing the local planetary leadership and defensive infrastructure prior to diverting the local mobile forces away, then coming in and taking over, is a logical assessment of their likely battle plans. Previously, they hadn't really done the assassination thing, but if they're getting more hardcore -- or perhaps more appropriate to say... desperate? -with their space battles, then maybe the 'preparation' they make prior to invasions is getting more hardcore as well.

Freyja will also ask her family if they can give Reykjasen a lift or ticket or something from Gyndine to Balmorra, as he's a decent bard, and she's not told him who she is. She will also be including the message for the Sedraki government, which Zero wrote... and she'll add in anything interesting that occurs in the intervening time, as well.

Freyja will chat with the bard a bit, then thank him for agreeing to carry the messages and the chip for her, and see him safely off the ship. After that she wanders slowly and thoughtfully to the cargo bay. She slips in silently, watching her two Sith friends sparring together and considering. Her expression is a bit troubled. She sighs silently, internally very worried. Is she just dreaming? Is she the oddity, that she can get along with both Grey and Darksiders -- and the norm is vicious antipathy?

Vakkal and Fhazil rather enjoy the bout they have, and it's interesting for Freyja to see how Sith spar, rather than how the Jedi at the praxaeum and the various monasteries spar. For one, it's very energetic, and not only physically, with a lot of unorthodox moves, parries, and strikes. Emotionally in the Force it's like watching a fireworks display. There is none of the serenity, the emotional centering that seems to come before, during, and after every Jedi duel. Even though they only use practice batons and not live lightsabers, they seem more than fully capable of hurting each other... except they simply don't. Either they miss, or the crushing blows that are about to land are simply aborted. And they are having a thoroughly enjoyable time. A Jedi sabermaster would be scandalized, but that doesn't seem to bother them.

After Freyja has been watching them for a couple of minutes, the two hold one of those wordless discussions and break off, panting. "Heiyo, Freyja!" Fhazil says cheerfully. "How are -mmph!" This last as a towel flops neatly across his face. Vakkal continues with, "How are you doing?" -utterly unperturbed at his brother's wrestling with the terrycloth.

Freyja grins quietly in spite of her worry, "I am fine, thank you both." She pauses, then says slowly, "I... have a question, though. In a war, would the Sith consider the governor of a planet to be the enemy? Would they include that person as potential target, along with the soldiers facing them?"

Vakkal makes a thoughtful sound, while Fhazil finally defeats the towel. "Mmm... it depends," he says cautiously. "Some worlds have traditions of their governor being the highest-ranking military officer on-world as well. That might make them a target in the eyes of a Lord of War, though a Lord of State would possibly see any high political leader as a potential target. Usually, though, the residing politicians are really good for handing over the reins of government. Gives the new Sith leaders some legitimacy. But... well, honestly, Freyja? If the Moot and the warlords felt they needed to target a planetary governor in order to make an invasion succeed, they would." He makes a bit of a face. "I guess there's a bit of a difference between that, and the Republic trying to assassinate a Sith Lord. It's pretty much a given that all Sith Lords are combatants."

Freyja murmurs softly and unhappily, "I... see..." She sighs quietly... she'd rather hoped that would not be the situation, "In that case, it looks like the former squeamishness concerning attacking only combatants... seems to have gone by the wayside." She frowns, idly twisting her Padawan's braid repeatedly around one finger, then finally says, "So... all's fair in war, then? I hope the Jedi -- and the planets being attacked -- realize that before it's too late."

She's silent for a moment, then looks up unhappily at her friends, "I'm sorry. I know these are friends of yours -- but they're attacking my home. I can't wish them well in that, no matter how much I remind myself that their failure would hurt you." She sighs, adding, "I'm trying my best to just not wish ill on them."

Vakkal and Fhazil exchange looks. "Yeah," Fhazil says quietly, sighing. "We both figured it would get to this point sometime in this trip when hostilities broke out again. For what it's worth, I don't think it's reached the 'all's fair' point yet. If anything, I think the Republic will hit that point first, if the Sith get too close to Coruscant."

Freyja just nods quietly and wanders slowly out, still deeply lost in thought.

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