((The RP XP with MJ #28))

Yulel came awake after a short dream about floating on a cloud. It was then she realized she’d been moved, chair and all. She was still on Mannett Point but in a different room of the separatist base. A gruff-sounding man shouted, “And you…. You can untie her once we leave.”

A weak female voice responded, “Yes, master.”

Master?

The smuggler forced herself to remain calm. She held her breath and listened as the man left the room. Once he was gone, Yulel flinched at the sudden touch of gentle fingers around her head as the female who spoke removed her blindfold.

When she felt the cloth float away, Yulel gradually opened her eyes to a squint. The separatists had moved her to a small dark room made of bars with an electromagnetic lock. The cell was in a larger room filled with crates and supply canisters all marked for orbital transport.

Joining her in the room were several female Twi’leks, all of them bruised and dressed in tatters of former street clothes or uniforms, all huddled together in a corner. The one who removed Yulel’s blindfold and was now working on the knot at her ankles was dressed as a dancing girl. “Wait,” she said. The girl stopped working on the bonds and looked up at her. The young Twi’lek’s skin was the color of a clear winter sky, her eyes a brilliant green that should have been filled with the wonder of youth. Instead they looked dull and sullen.

Yulel spoke softly with a slight tremble in her throat. “W-What are they doing with us?”

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((The RP XP with MJ #27))

“How much further?” Jenla sneered as she stepped over a clump of something that could have been random Huttmuck or chemlizard scat.

Neither the Mandalorian nor his sister turned back, so Jenla trudged on in silence and tried to keep up.

Margis whispered to her brother, “Your mate is somethin’ of a complainer. I woulda thought the Empire raised less squeamish lieutenants.”

Boarsch raised his chin and squinted past his sister. “She’s a good officer, Margis. She’s smart and dedicated. Leave her alone already.”

Margis shrugged and gave up on the taunting. The Chiss Imp wasn’t really worth her time. Besides, they had reached the edge of the reservoir. “Here’s what I wanted you to see, Boar.”

Boarsch and Jenla stood on either of Margis and looked out at the stagnant rust-colored lake.

“What are we looking at?” The agent asked.

Margis looked up at her brother. “This is my village’s water supply.”

As Jenla wrinkled her nose in disgust, Boarsch said, “You drink this?”

Margis nodded solemnly. “Almost as-is. The water purifiers gave out some time ago.”

Jenla said, “You could die drinking this slime.” That’s when Margis finally turned to acknowledge her.

A tear formed in the hardened Hutta woman’s eye. “The doctor in our village says I have about two months to live.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #26))

The Padawan Tarik strained himself to the point of a splitting headache, reaching out with the Force to see if the young Rattataki woman next to him was true to her word.

Is there such a thing as atonement or regret among the Sith, or was this a ploy?

“You can turn off the sensor beam into my soul, Zabrak. By now you know I’m telling you the truth. Don’t overdo it.”

Tarik glanced over his shoulder at the covered body of his master as the speeder made a sharp turn. Then he looked at Veetha.

“Don’t talk to me, Sith. I’ll do the talking.”

A smile curled over Veetha’s black lips. After a moment of silence, she said, “That’ll make it hard for me to answer questions, you know.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “You could’ve killed me and you didn’t. Why?”

“A good question that I already answered. Try another.”

“Try answering it again — and make sense of it this time!”

Veetha smiled at him. “The reason I am accompanying you on the return of your master’s corpse is because I wish to help the Republic.”

Tarik huffed. “Help the Republic? Why?”

“I have my reasons.”

He glanced at her as the speeder slowed its descent toward a secret Jedi enclave on Coruscant. “You said you’d answer my questions.”

“That was an answer, Tarik.”

Tarik gasped. “How did you know my name? I never told you.”

Veetha smiled. “Now that, my friend, is a good question.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #25))

Yulel slowly lifted her head and tried to open her eyes, but something was wrapped tightly around her eyes and pinching her lekku to the back of her head. A blindfold.

She didn’t remember much beyond running and gunning. That damn Gand pilot had dropped her right in the middle of a separatist hot zone and she paid the price…

By running into a tree when she was firing back over her shoulder.

Well, at least they didn’t kill me, the young Twi’lek smuggler smirked to herself.

Her eyes useless, she tried her other senses. She heard the low hum of a generator behind her, the high-pitched whine of a repulsorlift on a speeder hovering just outside the room where she was held. The echo of the speeder through the wall gave her the impression that she was inside a garage of some sort, possibly a side office.

The air smelled of sea spray and engine oil with a slight tang of electrical ozone from separatist forcefields. “Mannett Point,” she smirked again. “Figures.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #24))

The Zabrak Padawan lay cradling his dead master as the two Sith approached, their crimson blades vibrating the air as he looked helplessly up at them.

Tarik knew this was it. He had always wondered how his end would come and actually hoped it would be in combat against Sith side-by-side with his master. Of course Tarik never saw the Sith slowly stalking him after slaying his master from a distance in any of his wishful visions, not giving either of them a chance to defend themselves.

“Get it over with!” He yelled at them, his eyes welling with tears though he tried to suppress his emotions.

Most of them.

The Rattataki girl spoke first after giving her saber a threatening twirl. “He seems angry, my lord. Perhaps we can turn him.”

Darth Tagious never took his yellow eyes off the Padawan. He merely said, “He’s yours, Veetha. Play with him awhile. I will meet you at the Works.”

“Of course, my master,” Veetha’s smile was as sly as a vine cat’s.

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((The RP XP with MJ #23))

“I still don’t feel right about it, master. She’s young and impressionable,” the Zabrak Padawan muttered as he joined his master at the bottom of the ship’s boarding ramp.

“You’ll get over it, Tarik. You’ll have to.” Master Kendris scratched the thatch of gray beard on his chin and surveyed Coruscant’s surroundings with a suspicious eye. “I know your feelings toward the smuggler. And you know the reason why such relations are forbidden by the Order.”

Anxious to get away from the losing argument of Yulel’s innocence and continuous attempts to hide his feelings for her, Tarik said, “Are you certain this is a safe place to be? I mean… Don’t you think the Jen’Hutis would be safer on Tython?”

His master’s response was unexpected considering their history. “Well… I think you’re actually right about that, Tarik.”

That’s when the young Zabrak noticed the private docking bay was even more private than it was moments ago. The refueling technicians, the mechanics, even the droids had vanished. “I have a bad feeling about this, master.”

Kendris nodded and ignited his lightsabers.

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((The RP XP with MJ #22))

Ord Mantell was generally no place for a crazy Twi’lek girl, especially with all the territorial squabbling between the Republic and the unpredictably superior separatists, but that’s where Yulel ended up.

She waved to the Gand pilot and ducked out from under the hot vents of his ship’s repulsors just as the small vessel lifted off and banked up into the clouds.

“Hey! Idiot! You almost took my head off!” She called up to the receding dot of a ship as it vanished. She pulled the straps of her pack so that it rested snugly against her shoulder blades and muttered, “I know you were in a hurry to leave, but that’s no reason to–“

The blaster bolt whizzed by Yulel’s head and stung her tchun as she twisted and dove behind a large rock nestled in an overgrowth of brush. Bolts continued to thump into the ground around her, crack at her stone cover and blaze through the air as she rolled off her back and scrambled to dig the blaster out of her pack.

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((The RP XP with MJ #20))

The ruddy-skinned Twi’lek looked up at the Jedi temple and squinted against the bright sunlight. When she looked back down she noticed she was the center of attention.

The young Jedi Zabrak with her said, “There’s a Twi’lek village near here, but we don’t get many your color, Yulel.”

Yulel ignored him and started down the steps toward the taxi launch.

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“I’m not staying here, Tarik. I hate you guys.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #19))

Sergeant Wex folded his arms over his armored chest as he squinted against the bright Tythonian sky toward the Jedi temple.

“Well, be careful what you wish for.” Wex shouldered his rifle and moved toward the steps of the temple. “I have the feeling it’s going to be a busy year.”
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((The RP XP with MJ #17))

“Hutta is wonderful this time of year if you don’t inhale too deeply,” the bounty hunter chuckled as he escorted the imperial agent past the palace of Nem’ro the Hutt.

Jenla smirked. “Why the hell did you bring me here, Boarsch? You know how much the Hutts nauseate me.”

Boarsch hid his amusement by pretending to look away from her, concentrating on some activity at the end of a side street. Since the attack against the Jedi and Sith two days ago, Jenla Ruf and Boarsch had been on the run, skirting the outer rim systems and playing hopscotch with the main merchant runs where the Empire and Republic often traded blows. They just arrived on Hutta to re-supply and get work done on the ship. Distant blaster fire marred an otherwise quiet day.

As they turned down a particularly putrid alley rank with the smell of waste, Jenla stopped and held up her hand. “I am not going down there.”

The bounty hunter kept walking as the agent unsteadily glanced back down the main road.

“Did you hear me, Boarsch? I’m not going down there.”

The bulky Mandalorian shrugged under his armored shoulders. “Suit yourself, darling. I’m sure a Chiss woman by herself wearing an Imperial uniform will be just fine standing on the corner all alone.”

Jenla scowled and glanced from side to side, then watched as Boarsch continued down the alley. In a few paces he’d have to turn at the end and vanish from her sight. Looking back toward the spaceport, she saw two Gamorreans with heavy weapons waddling toward them. “Wait. …Boarsch, wait!”

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