((The RP XP with MJ #14))

I hope those of you relative to my time zone here in the U.S. had a spectacular Thanksgiving, and I hope those of you about to try Star Wars: The Old Republic for the first time ever during today’s launch of the Beta Stress Test Weekend have as much fun testing the game as I have.

Since I’ve been tied up with all kinds of holiday fun this week, not to mention all the holiday fun we’ll be experiencing in open–err, I mean ‘weekend‘–beta, I thought I’d make this week’s RP XP with MJ much, much shorter. In fact, I’m going to make it so short I’m not even going to write it.
I’ll be back next week with a very special edition of ((The RP XP with MJ)). Until then, good hunting out there in Betaland! And, if you see someone throw up a “LFG-RP” in General chat, it’s probably me. Come say ‘hi’… In character, of course.
Now, I’ll head out and let these guys take it from here. You’ve probably heard that RolePlayers “hear voices.” Well, sometimes we like to let ’em out. These guys, whom you might recognize, wanted to come out and say a few words about what they’re thankful for….
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((The RP XP with MJ #13))

Padawan Tarik sat next to the smuggler Yulel in the passenger compartment of the Regail. His eyes fell upon the Twi’lek spice runner with adoration beyond the simple recognition of her abilities and strength of survival. He dabbed at a scrape on the side of her face with a medicated pad but his eyes remained glazed on the unbroken beauty of her profile.

She glanced at him and he pulled away quickly, blushing and looking down at the Kolto salve tube in his other hand. She said, “You don’t think I should have brought this, do you? You think I should have left it.”

Yulel held up a clear crystal shaped like a chiseled tube no bigger than her little finger.

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((The RP XP with MJ #11))

The Zabrak Padawan Force-pushed aside the door and entered the dank back room of the warehouse, his lightsaber beam illuminating the space with a soft blue glow.

A chair sat in the middle of the room, torn bonds around its legs and hanging off the back. The crates and boxes stacked around the room all stared out with the crescent-shaped Czerka logo. There were no signs of anyone else nearby, though Tarik didn’t think to reach out with the Force to take a closer look. Instead, he found himself attracted to small dark speckles on the floor near the chair.

He crouched and reached down, smearing a finger across the spots before raising it to his nose and sniffing. Blood.

Then something heavy landed hard on his back and flattened him against the warehouse floor. His lightsaber extinguished and clattered off between two large boxes.

As suddenly as the weight hit him, it was gone. Tarik heard shuffling footsteps and looked up in time to see an orange blur rush toward his lightsaber. He reached out and Force-pulled it into his hand before getting to his feet.

“Ah! Damn!”

He recognized the woman’s voice immediately, but ignited the lightsaber to see her. “Yulel?”

“Who did you expect, Tar? Man, Kendris really has to work on your training. I can’t believe you didn’t sense me up there.” The Twi’lek nodded to a stack of crates next to the door, on top of which she had been waiting while the bombardment leveled half the quarter outside.

Tarik stretched out a hand toward the room controls and turned on the lights. Then he switched off his lightsaber. “You ok, ‘Lel?” he asked in a soft voice.

The Twi’lek pouted and tilted her head as she saw him in the light. “You’re hurt.” She stepped up to him and gently reached up to touch one of the scarred horns on his head. “Were you caught in the bombardment?”

Tarik swallowed and nodded, unable to speak as his heart thudded painfully to match each bruise and cut on the Twi’lek girl. He reached out slowly and touched her cheek, then managed, “I’m not so bad off, but… but you.”

“Meh,” Yulel smiled. “I pretended to be in pain through most of it. Narcos do wonders for pain blocking.” She turned away and moved to the crates on one side of the room, checking the numbers and manifests attached to each one.

The pain in the young Padawan’s voice was personal. “You’re not still on the Narcos, are you? You promised me you’d get off that poison.”

“Here it is!” Yulel ignored him and crouched before a footlocker-sized box on the floor. “One-one-three-eight.”

“Yulel.”

“Tarik.” She ignored him and produced a small folding tool from her belt. She tapped at the keypad on the box as she waved the tool in front of the box latch.

Tarik watched her for awhile before stepping closer and crouching next to her. Overcome with curiosity, he decided to let the conversation about Yulel’s drug addiction wait for another time. “What are you doing?”

“Picking a lock. What does it look like?”

“Why?”

“Because the stupid bounty hunter and ignorant Chiss who held me here were looking for this. It was under their nose the whole time.”

Tarik glanced back at the chair just two meters away. “Why didn’t you tell them so they’d stop torturing you?”

Yulel stopped and looked at him. “Because it was funny.” She offered a crooked smile before turning her attention back to the box. It opened with a click and a snap.

Tarik reared back a little surprised. “How’d you manage that?”

“I used to be a locksmith for Czerka before I got into spice running.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #10))

     The smoke and dust settled slowly over the street. Fires crackled and hissed, injured people moaned or cried out from the rubble. The Miraluka moved slowly through the debris left by the Imperial attack, looking for signs of the two Jedi. Anywhere she found a civilian or a passerby who was hurt in the attack, she took the time to escort them out of the street and into the safety of an alley where two surviving Republic troopers had set up a triage.

     After finding five survivors and marking two bodies, Misha Vu-don crouched next to a Force aura. Of course she couldn’t see the bruised and soot-stained face of Master Kendris, but she could clearly see the Force emanating from him.

     Kendris blinked up at the woman, then his eyes widened with panic. “What happened? Where’s Tarik?”

     The Miraluka spoke in a voice so calm it was almost lost in the hush of settling ash. “He is well, Kendris. I believe he managed to escape before the bombardment. He seeks your Twi’lek. I am Misha Vu-don of he Nazzri Enclave.”

     Kendris pried himself out of the rubble and dusted himself off after making a cursory check of himself for wounds. A few bruises, a few cuts, but miraculously all right.

     “The Sith are gone,” Misha said, not quite looking at him but sensing his curiosity.

     “Where did that go? Which way?”

     She held up a hand and rested it on his chest. She felt the firmness of his armor below the robes and smiled. “Calm yourself, Kendris. There are other more important questions to answer first.”

     The Jedi Master looked around at the edge of the crater near his feet as he pulled away from her touch and kicked at some rubble as if looking for something.

     “Your Padawan will be back soon with the Twi’lek you were protecting.” She made no attempt to curl the word ‘protecting’ into a sarcastic lilt, but Kendris glanced at her as if he’d heard it nonetheless. He huffed and continued digging.

     Misha sniffed the air and turned her head toward the alley where more people were gathering with their wounds, some weeping and carrying bodies of others. She turned toward Kendris, then back again.

     “We should help the wounded,” Misha said. The siren of an emergency aid speeder grew louder in the distance.

     Kendris continued kicking and plucking at the overturned rubble by his feet, grunting as he pushed heavier pieces of the ruined street aside.

     Misha held out a hand. A piece of rubble three meters away overturned revealing a glint of silver. The lightsaber hilt flew into her hand.

     She held it toward Kendris. “Now that you have this back, perhaps we can help those who need us.”

     Kendris took the weapon without a word. Though Miraluka couldn’t see it, he nodded before moving past her toward the alley.
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((The RP XP with MJ #9))

The bounty hunter looked over at the agent as her fingers danced across the controls of the ship. The engines rumbled to life and the entire ship began to shake as the coiled energy above the landing struts began to take offense to gravity.

“Do it!”
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((The RP XP with MJ #8))

Veetha ran toward the Force pulse she felt from the street, her lightsaber hilt held firmly in her white-skinned hand.

Veetha, not being one for words like her master, screamed and charged at him.

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The Twi’lek smuggler looks up from her drink and smiles toward the man in the robes and armor.

The Jedi Knight catches her eye and nods a polite greeting before turning his attention to the row of bottles behind the bar.

Taking her drink, the smuggler moves closer to him, her eyes casually taking in the bar, the colorful crowd, careful not to linger on the Jedi. She stops close to him, close enough to be heard in a whisper but not overheard by anyone else. She faces the dance floor and leans back on the bar with her elbows. “You’re Kendris?”

The Jedi purses his lips and studies his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. “You’re sloppy,” he says just above a whisper.

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