((The RP XP With MJ #16))

Yulel sat on the floor of the cabin aboard the Regail and nervously stroked her lekku. She brought her head tails over the front of each shoulder so she could hold them as she sat on the floor and rocked like a pouting child.

“This ain’t fair, ya know.”

The armored trooper stood in the open doorway of the cabin. He stood alert, his rifle held at port-arms. He wore his helmet so Yulel didn’t know if he was looking at her, at the wall, at the floor….

“You got a name, flatfoot?”

The helmet moved slightly. The electronically-augmented voice came out. “The name’s Wex. Not that it’s any of your business, thief.”

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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 #12))

Corporal Wex had been with Hazard Squad for a year, but he’d never seen such wanton destruction, such careless regard for civilian life. The Imperial freighter that wasted the area was either piloted by Kowakian monkey-lizards or the pilot and gunner didn’t care whether they hit his men, the Jedi, the civilians or even their own Sith brothers.

          He had ordered two of his surviving men to scour the rubble, debris and nearby alleys to look for the two Sith while he and the Jedi consular helped the local medics with some of the wounded.

          As more local security and emergency medical personnel showed up from the spaceport, Wex and the consular were able to pull away and re-join the hunt for the Sith.

          The Jedi Master, Kendris, stepped up to them as they stood by one of the enormous craters on the quad. Wex pulled on his helmet and adjusted the radio level as he pretended not to listen in.

          “My Padawan located the Twi’lek and is escorting her back to the Regail,” Kendris said.

          The Miraluka lifted her head and spoke softly. “I have contacted my enclave. They will be sending additional help for these people.”

          “They’re survivors. We need to find the Sith responsible for this, Consular Vu-don.”

          “I find it intriguing, Master Kendris, that vengeance permeates your thoughts. It keeps you from being mindful of the Force and clouds your judgment.”

          Kendris stepped in front of the Miraluka close enough to move her veil with his breath. “And what would you do? Hm? You would sit idly by and allow this to happen?”

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As I have shown in a previous article – Is “She” really a “She”? Female Gamers and Gender Bending in MMORPGs – 60 percent of MMO players have role-played. But, even among those who haven’t, I think most can say that they have happened upon that one gear set that really struck them as “perfect” for their character. Either it was perfectly menacing, evil, just, good, sweet, innocent or any one of a million different adjectives, but whatever it was that made it that way, it was perfect for their character.

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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 #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 RP XP With MJ #7))

Darth Tagious found the abandoned Czerka garage with the Force, zeroing in on the bounty hunter and agent who captured the Twi’lek smuggler. He waved his hand at the door and it swooshed aside at his bidding.

“My lord,” Agent Jenla Ruf said, and snapped to attention as the oppressive Sith entered the back room. Boarsch simply looked up from where he crouched before the beaten Twi’lek, a cold smirk dividing his face.

Both of them appeared slightly more haggard than Tagious would have imagined, and the agent’s uniform was partially unzipped. His nose wrinkled at the distaste, knowing the Mandalorian and Chiss had been… intimate.

Tagious looked at the Twi’lek woman bound to the chair and frowned. “Report.”

Jenla said, “The Jedi she was meeting is named Kendris, my lord. He is here at the spaceport, aboard a ship called the Regail. It is just him, his Zabrak Padawan and a small crew.”

The Sith Lord’s patience was as boundless as a Jedi Consular’s. Still, it took every ounce of his being to keep from snapping the agent’s neck for such a useless report. He waited, his yellow eyes boring into the Chiss agent’s like lasers in the dark.

“Darth Tagious,” the bounty hunter interrupted, standing. “My lord, I believe the intelligence supplied by the fleet was in error. This ain’t the tailhead we’re lookin’ for.”

Tagious turned to Boarsch with a deep scowl. “Indeed.”

Jenla seemed to stand taller. “Perhaps nearby, my lord, in a neighboring syst–.”

Tagious turned on the agent and reached out with the Force.

Jenla felt her throat close. She couldn’t breathe or speak. The invisible pressure lifted her to her toes.

Boarsch stepped forward boldly. “My lord, I have a suggestion!”

Tagious hissed, ignoring the Mandalorian, “If you dare to lead me down the wrong path again, Agent Ruf, I will kill you with a thought.” He released her from the Force choke and Jenla collapsed against a wall, rubbing the ache from her neck. The dark lord turned on the bounty hunter.

Boarsch held up his hands. “The Jedi trail you as you trail them, my lord. Let Jenla–Agent Ruf–and I pursue these leads alone, separate from your efforts, sir. We can find the Twi’lek easier without all the Jedi you attract.”

Tagious looked down at Yulel. He seemed to consider this.

Jenla regained some of her composure and looked on hopefully.

Finally, Tagious sneered and said, “I’ll give you one chance. Find me what I seek… or I’ll turn my whims to you.” He glared at Boarsch and Jenla before turning to leave.

Boarsch released a breath after a long moment. “You know, if he came in here just five minute earlier–“

“Shut up,” Jenla snapped. “I’m thinking.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #6 – Sex and RP))

The bounty hunter released the Twi’lek’s chin and let her head fall forward. “She’s out cold.”

Agent Jenla Ruf smirked, disappointed. “Maybe we should just kill her.”

Boarsch looked down at Yulel, her orange skin now pale except for the bruises and cuts, her lekku hanging limply over each shoulder as she slumped in the chair to which she was bound. “Pity she couldn’t tell us what we needed to know.”

Jenla looked up at the hunter and shrugged. “There will be other runners we can torture.” She sighed. “I’ll have to report this to Lord Tagious.”

“Why?”

Jenla narrowed her eyes at him. “Hm?”

Boarsch set his helmet and gauntlets on a nearby crate and stepped around the unconscious Twi’lek to the agent. He gently placed his hands on her arms. “Why? I mean why tell him anything?”

Jenla’s red eyes sought meaning in the Mandalorian’s question, she searched his face but could only frown. “I must. It’s my duty to–“

“Tell him nothing until you have something to report.”

Jenla looked to the beaten Twi’lek. Boarsch gently took her by the chin and turned her face to meet his eyes. “I’m serious,” he whispered. “When you left home and sought me out, you said you loved me. You said you trusted me.”

“I do, but–“

“Then trust me now.” Boarsch shifted his stance. The belt loaded with grenades and blaster packs creaked and clacked at his waist. “Look, who’s the one who helped you when you needed it? Who watched your back while you fought your way through the Imperial Training Facility on–“

“You did.” Jenla now held his gaze, her voice harder but her red eyes softening.

“Who brought you here and protected you, delivered this Twi’lek to you?”

“You did.” Jenla reached up and rested her hands on his armored shoulders. She leaned into him and felt the support of his armored body. “You always do.”

“Then don’t say anything until you have something to say. I don’t want Tagious to kill y–“

Jenla’s hands moved to the sides of Boarsch’s head and she pulled him down to kiss her. Their lips lingered as the Mandalorian and the Chiss relaxed into the familiar precursor of their physical desires, each one surrendering responsibility and time to passion.

As their breathing became heavier, Jenla reached down and unhooked the bounty hunter’s belt. It dropped to the floor with a loud clank. Boarsch reached for her neck and slowly unzipped her uniform tunic. He said, “I want you.”

Jenla smiled as she led him toward an adjacent room. “Everyone does.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #4))

Veetha waited obediently for her master’s order. The Rattataki stayed in the shadows of the U’naril overpass watching as the Republic Troopers ran after the orange Twi’lek girl. Veetha pulled her black cloak tight around her shoulders. The white tattooed skin of her face glowed ghostly in the dim light beneath the hood.

Once the streets quieted and the blaster fire in the distant alleys subsided, Veetha lifted the comlink to her black lips and spoke. “Master, the Twi’lek has not returned.”

The comlink’s tiny speaker crackled. “Verify her presence, Veetha. I want to know if she’s been captured, killed or doubled back. I am in route to your position.”

“Yes, my lord, but–” Veetha bit her tongue as a droid hummed by pushing a hovercart. “But what if she doubles back? I should remain at the overpass to–“

“Find her! And do not question me again!”

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((The RP XP With MJ #3))

Yulel threw her back against a wall and winced when she pinched her lekku against the hard stone surface. Drawing her blaster, she risked a peek around the corner. There were no
signs of the Republic Troopers who were chasing her. “Next time,” she muttered to herself, “You boys should get lighter armor.”

Slowly, the Twi’lek smuggler backed down the alley, blaster at the ready, and tried to force a mental map to surface in her mind, to give her bearings and direction toward the spaceport and her meeting with the Jedi Kendriss.

At a cross junction in the alley, she stopped and turned to look in every direction. The side alleys were dark and didn’t look to open back up into streets. They led to the service entrances of the businesses here. There was no way she could–

“You! Hold it!”

Yulel gasped and turned toward the trooper’s voice augmented through his helmet P.A. She raised her blaster and fired off a couple warning shots.

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