RPlog:Enter the Hunter

Coronet Space Port - Coronet City

This port is busy, like most, but here the hot breath of takeoff and the deep rumble of engines is closer, more of a feature of the port than an annoyance. The landing pads and small maintenance bunkers sprawl across a large open area open to the sky and surrounded by blast walls to protect the farmlands beyond. Pilots, engineers and techs, mostly natives, move among the hardware as if at home in the confusing and fast paced Port. A large complex off to the side houses control functions, transport authority offices, and the CorSec station.

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Simon

Before you is a young human male of average height and narrow build. His hair is a deep brown, parted and cut short. A strong jawline and deepset eyes of blue-grey give the man a stern look at a glance. For facial hair he wears a well groomed goatee and mustache, trimmed short and of the same deep color as the rest of his hair. All in all, the man's demeanor can be summed up in a word: aware.

Simon is dressed in earth tones. Light tan, loose fitting trousers are tucked into soft leather boots that come up to just under his knees, and are tied tight with brown, leather chords. Tucked into the top of his pants is a simple shirt of a matching color. Over this is a loose wool tunic of dark brown, covering his arms completely and hanging down below his waiste. It's comfortable clothing, suitable for most climates and cultures.

Kacela

This tall woman moves around with trained, athletic grace. Her skin is slightly tanned and her features are slight and almost angular, giving her a somewhat exotic appearance. This woman's hair is a little shorter than shoulder length and is black with a very slight indigo sheen. The hair is tied up in a small ponytail at the base of her neck and two longer tendrils frame her face. Eyes of a deep blue, with lighter flecks, shimmer with intelligence and alertness.. and occasionally a cold smile.

A rather conservative outfit graces this woman's tall, athletic form. A roughly hewn, off white shirt with a V shaped neck is tucked into a pair of forest green, military style pants. The pants have leather patches on the knees and thighs and the pockets appear to be relatively free of clutter. A soft, light brown nerf hide jacket and boots of the same colour of leather complete the ensemble, giving this woman a clean and somewhat respectable appearance. The only thing that detracts from this is the blaster that is strapped snugly to her left thigh.

Markus A man in his late twenties, he appears to be a little bit more than six feet. He sports his silver white hair cropped short. The large brown inquisitive eyes, along with his full black eyebrows, seem to be attentive all the time. His skin is a tanned white, along with the hard jaw line and well-defined nose and the short stubs he sports as a beard, give this man a look between a gentleman and a scoundrel. His lips, almost constantly in an impish grin, along with the sparkle on his eyes project a very fiery personality. His body looks to be well maintained and built; strong, and definitely in shape.

He is currently wearing a light gray long sleeved shirt. The sleeves folded half up his arms. Over it, he wears a sleeveless black jacket that obviously has seen one too many days. The dark black pants, worn loosely and fitted to perfection, seem comfortable enough in him. Everything is complemented by a set of dark gray boots that definitely have seen better times.

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"It is sad, I guess.", Markus admits with a slight nod of his head. "I think that's why my father took to piloting all the time. Corellia is home, yes, but a home that is better to visit than anything else.", the young man explains. As the ongoing argument near the bar seems to be getting a bit louder, Markus frowns in thought. For now, it will have stop bothering him. "This is a good place to wait, though. I doubt guards will follow us here.", the explanation coming with the act of telling his previous thoughts on the matter. "After some time, we can just move to my ship."

The Corellian then shrugs, but the brown intelligent eyes seem to be fixed on Simon now. "I don't mean to intrude or anything. But what kind of weapon is that one you used?", the white haired man can't help but ask. Curiosity overtaking his reason. 'And how do you get one', he felt like adding, which causes a small grin to appear for a moment. "As I said before, it is a very handy little tool.", and in Markus' voice there is something else besides praise to the weapon. A perceptive mind would be able to pick up praise and respect for the one wielding it.

When Markus speaks, Simon's gaze remains fixed on the man across from him, forcing himself to become oblivious to the distraction of the ruckuss near the bar. At the end of the Corellian words, Simon purses his lips at the question regarding his weapon. Whether he detects the respect and praise from the man sitting across from him is unapparent in his countenance, as he looks down at the surface of the table thoughtfully.

Slowly, Simon moves his left hand to the cylinder of his lightstaff and unclasps it from his belt. There truly had been few that had asked of the weapon, and those that had asked previously had been easily distracted by other words. This Markus though... Simon couldn't put his finger on it, but the man was unique, and deserved a more honest answer. Setting the weapon on the table in front of him, he begins to explain.

"This is the result of the _Selas_ Ritual of Acceptance," Simon says, giving the title an odd emphasis. "It is crafted by the _Selas_ after hours of meditation and under the watchful gaze of his teacher. The teachings of it come from your ancient order of Jedi. You know of this order?"

The _Selas_? What is this man talking about? "The Jedi...", that name he somewhat recognizes. "I've heard the name.", Markus admits not bothering to hide the clueless look on his face. "Because I've spent the last few years at Agamar, I haven't been following what has been happening closer to the Core." The Jedi. He had heard a bit about them, from a couple of his friends in the Rebellion, now the New Republic. They were the ones that had given him the name...

"Skywalker", Markus says out loud, the one he hoped could help him too. "I know there is a relationship between him and the Jedi. He was a big person in the Rebellion, from what I've heard.", the white haired man then shrugs. "Don't know much about them, though."

He squints his eyes, frowning in thought. "From the way you expressed yourself, you are not a Jedi, but are familiar with them?", he asks, curious. Something then seems to hit him and he blinks a few times, "Do you know this Skywalker?", Markus asks, his voice betraying a certain edge that would indicate the matter is important to him.

Kacela enters the Smuggler's Dig from the space port.

Kacela has arrived.

Simon diverts his eyes from Markus's face, turning his attention back to the cylinder on the table between them. Once more, the name 'Skywalker' had been presented to him, and again it was after the display of his unique weapon. That Skywalker was a Jedi himself, Simon had no doubt. After his inquiries of the tradition that had split the _Selas_ of his home planet, Simon was beginning to wonder if Skywalker were the only Jedi left.

His right index finger traces a groove in the shaft of his lightstaff near the center activation switch as he speaks. "This 'Skywalker' I do not know, and for a time I journeyed to find him. I will help you find him if you would like, though alone I have not found him and it has been a long time I searched."

Finding Skywalker... Perhaps... "Then maybe together, we will have more luck.", Markus offers, grinning now. He looks at Simon, and considering the man is sharing part of his life with him, Markus feels he should do no less. "After my father was captured, and a person very close to me died...", he pauses, bowing his head eyes closed. "I started having very strong nightmares. Sometimes, they would even take control of me during the day. This last bit hasn't happened in a while, thoug, thankfully.", he pauses, letting out a small sigh.

"But the nightmares I still get. And I used to get them while younger, but not as strong.", slowly, he looks up and his brown eyes seem to regard Simon for a moment. "I was told by a friend that used to be part of the Rebellion, that this man, Skywalker, may be able to help me. I've been looking for the man myself, for a while now."

Although it would have seem that Markus has become oblivious to the argument that had been going on nearby the bar, this doesn't mean the argument itself has stopped. In fact, it seems to be picking up, something that does catch Markus attention now forcing him to tilt his head in the direction.

The dank and hazy Smuggler's dig is a great place for getting into fights, closing shady - or not so shady- deals and getting a great drink. Kacela is drawn to places like this, she always has been.. even before she set out to make a new life for herself. The tall spacer holds something in her hand, she rubs it with her thumb and glances around the dig, something has kept here here for another day, and she has learned to follow her instincts. The sharp, predatorlike attentiveness that is usually in her eyes seems to be elsewhere today, there's something hazy and distant about the woman although she bears a definite air of danger about her. Like a fly to honey, Kacela is drawn to the bar, and the argument. Such strong emotions are like a beacon to her.. perhaps there she will find what she is looking for. It is a good thing that Kacela hasn't yet picked up the whispers of 'Skywalker' as he is the source of most of her recent grief. As Kacela reaches the bar, some of the sharpness returns to her eyes, and her posture changes slightly. She's ready for a fight. Whatever she is holding in her hand is still tightly clenched there.

When Markus spoke, Simon's head lifted to meet his eye and concentrate on his words. It was the way of Simon and his people, and still necessary for Simon in order to keep up with words spoken in what he had a hard time reconciling as 'Basic'. With each word from Markus's lips, a frown begins to form on Simon's brow and deepens. Simon had undergone similar waking visions and feelings. In speaking with other _Selas_, he knew that it was a common experience amongst 'The Unborn'. Undoubtedly, Markus would have been banished on Telgosse as he had been.

Simon is so absorbed in his thoughts and memories and the conversation that it isn't until the white haired Corellian turns his head toward the fight that he even remembers it going on. He turns his eyes in the direction of the scuffle, watching as one of the participants grabs a half empty bottle off the surface of the bar and begins brandishing it as a weapon, reddish liquor spilling down his hand and splattering on the floor. A visciousness like a rabid dog is in his bloodshot eyes, and there is little doubt that the fight will come to blows.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Simon sees Kacela approaching. He recognizes her immediately from the other day, and his eyes narrow. What could The Hunter want with these two drunken ruffians?

If Markus recognizes the woman or not, he is not showing it right now. Idle curiosity seems to mark his features, yet because his attention was called someplace else he completely missed Simon's reaction to his story, or the Corellian would have been a bit spooked. He returns his focus to his table and Simon and notices his companion's attention has moved from the conversation to the fight that seems about to break.

"It will probably get out of hand soon.", Markus comments, waiting then to see the other man's reaction. A sly grin is offered, one that offers Markus' support to whatever Simon decides to do, either get involved or just quietly leave. The later seems the most prudent of the two options, yet considering recent events...

Markus then turns again towards the bar, and it is now that he sees Kacela. Something in her seems familiar, still recognition doesn't register on the man.

Mira enters the Smuggler's Dig from the space port.

Mira has arrived.

Kacela watches, waits, as the man with the broken bottle takes a drunken swipe at the person who has allegedly ripped him off, evident by his yelling "Darkan.. Yer gonna eat this bottle fer rippin' me of those creds!" . The attackee ducks out of the way, but only just, and the bottle smashes against the bar, sending a shower of glass towards the attacker, and Kacela.

Kacela places a hand in front of her face and the glass seems to miss her entirely, perhaps it's a trick of the light, or maybe it's got something to do with the flicker of amber from the object that is clenched in her hand as it catches the light.

The huntress steps back into a fluid defensive stance, the haziness gone completely and is now replaced by prowess that is as sharp as a knife, almost inhumanly so. Her cold blue eyes rest on one of the drunken fighters, yes.. he brings back some memories for her.. memories that burn with nightmarish intensity. It's such a shame that she looks completely different, unscarred and clean.. but, the tall Huntress can change that. "Ahh.. Darkan.." she whispers.. and a cold smile crosses her face. This Darkan Fellow now takes a swipe at the man with the bottle, but he misses, his attention drawn to the woman who stands by so nonchalantly. People nearby have begun to place bets on the fight, credits slide back and forth..

When Markus gives Simon a glance to gauge his reaction, the goateed man's hand has grasped the cylinder still sitting on the table between them, and a muscle in his neck is tensed. Whether Simon looks prepared to leap to intervene or move to flee, it's hard to say. Perhaps he's prepared to do both, though from from the sitting position, it would presumably be difficult to do either if he waited too long.

As the shower of glass fragments splay around Kacela as a rock splits a stream, Simon cocks his head slightly, his eyes narrowing further. He draws in a deep breath, then says quietly, "There is much danger here, Markus Lisardis." His eyes remain locked on the stranger that is Kacela.

"You suggested we go to your ship once it was known that the law officials were no longer following us," Simon says, stilling watching Kacela. "Perhaps the time is upon us?"

A frown forms on Marku's forehead. His Corellian blood screams at him to get involved... Yet, Simon's words to him bring up the slightly wiser side of him. "You are probably right.", he says, with a mix of urgency and regret. It is then that he finally seems to get a sense of Kacela, or that he might have seen her before. He turns again to the fight, watching the woman for a moment, and for some reason finds himself saying, "Lets move out now.", and leaves at that as he stands up.

Keeping his steps casual, Markus then starts moving from the table and around the bar. For better of worse, the only available escape route will be taking him and Simon quite close to where the events are unfolding.

"Thankfully, Mira is safe back at the ship...", the young man muses, loud enough that Simon would be able to pick it up.

Mira, having woken up and found a note from Markus, had been wandering around the city looking for her recent very good friend, as she had come to think of him. Having not spotted him anywhere on any of the city streets, she had returned to the spaceport, where she had noticed the Smuggler's Dig. Now, she had never been allowed in the Dig before, but she hadn't been allowed to go tromping around with strange pilots before either. So she resolutely decides that she will peek inside and at least see what it is like. Approaching the door with stalwart confidence, Mira pushes it open and steps inside, squinting as her eyes try to adjust to the light. Almost immediately, she wished she had stayed outside. There is the shattering of glass, loud shouting, chaos. And she doesn't see Markus anywhere. Rather than get caught in the chaos, she runs out the door and back to the ramp of the ship, where she sits quietly, waiting.

Yes, there is something sinister about Kacela, especially as she takes a deep breath and concentrates on something for a moment. Without that damn Skywalker fellow around to ruin her fun, and wanting to exact some revenge on those who have harmed her in the past, the Huntress draws upon the chaos and terror and violence that surrounds her. Whatever she has done is not visible to anyone except Darkan, who suddenly shrieks in terror and draws his blaster, aiming not at the person who started the argument, but at Kacela, "No! Not you! It wasn't me who sent you to the pens!". The other drunk stops dead in his tracks, giving Darkan a surprised look, and then he turns back to face Kacela, who has a positively cold, yet serene look on her face, nothing scary at all. Something sends the broken bottle wielding fellow to draw cautiously away, something isn't right here. To most people in the room, Kacela is doing nothing at all to provoke this reaction from Darkan.. nothing visible at least.. and at least she cleared up the argument. of course, that does little for the can of worms she's just opened.

Following Markus, Simon keeps his eyes trained on Kacela, with occasional glances toward the two fellows that had been fighting. The broken bottle could be a formiddable weapon in the hands of someone with the skill, and as Markus had displayed earlier, fists and feet could contain a cunning lethality as well. Yet, the danger, in Simon's mind, is in neither of these men. It is The Hunter, the woman that knew something of Simon's vision and travels, that knew something of Simon himself. She, Markus, and the girl... one, two, or all three had brought him to a point, and all three were part of Simon's destiny, in some way that the young man could not fathom.

As Simon and Markus move past, and the fight changes shape, Simon finds himself pausing, holding back a moment. The gun being directed at the woman might as well have been directed at Simon himself. As dangerous as Simon knew the woman to be, for her to die would be detrimental to Simon on some level that he couldn't know. Turning his hard gaze toward the weapon in the man's hand, Simon stops in his tracks. Nothing appears to happen, yet the trigger would not be squeezed home easily. An idle thought passes through Simon's mind... would Markus or The Hunter notice what he'd done?

Perhaps because Markus doesn't have the insight that Simon's culture seem to have provided him, the Corellian regards the bottle as probably the more dangerous weapon in this situation. Destiny right now for Markus would be getting to the ship, and leaving Corellia soon...

And making sure Mira is alright. As fate would have it, though, seems aren't usually as people want them to be. And Markus finds himself being taken one step closer to a world and an awareness, that had were not his before.

For some reason that he can't figure out, Markus finds himself looking back as Simon hesistates in their escape. He frowns, "Si-", and stops before he finishes the words. He winces, feeling something. A prick, behind his neck. Something similar to what he feels after waking up from the nightmares. Confusion is now expressed, as Markus doesn't understand or is even aware of what's going on... Yet at some level, he feels that something is indeed going on. And yet again, he finds his attention being diverted to another place, as something seems to make him do this. And he is in time to catch Mira running out of the place. "Mira...?", he calls softly, and takes an inmediate step forward, just to stop as he remembers he is not alone. He strongly frowns, as the Corellian finds himself trying to figure out what to do.

The blaster pointed at Kacela shakes slightly in the hand of the terrorized Darkan. Something changes in Kacela's demeanour as she catches the spike, evident of someone else that shares some abilities. Her attention is momentarily diverted from Darkan, just long enough for him to gain enough spine to squeeze the trigger of the blaster. Kacela takes a deep breath and clenches her fist tightly around the object she is holding, as she does so, Darkan's hand jerks obviously to the left, a tactic to divert the blast from a killing to a wounding shot.. but no bolt appears from the tip of the blaster.. and /this/ catches Kacela off guard. Darkan drops the blaster to the floor with a clatter as it doesn't fire and as it moves as though it has a mind of its own. Now disarmed, Darkan backs away slowly, whimpering in confusion and fear.. the beast will tear him to shreds now. Kacela narrows her eyes and a soft growl can be heard in her throat, the presence isn't strong enough to be skywalker, but it is strong enough to be a pain in the ass. She hisses, "Leave.. and the next time I find you, we'll finish this.." to Darkan who suddenly scuttles backwards into a large human, and then tries to force his way through the crowd towards the door. Droplets of sweat are visible on Kacela's brow, while there is satisfaction to causing sheer terror and imprinting imaginary thoughts onto someone's mind, it does pack a punch. Satisfied that Darkan is on his way out, the Huntress releases her grip on that object and her eyes begin to scan the bar for whoever.. or whatever.. caused that spike.

Smaller arguments and swearing rumbles through the bar in the immediate area where the fight was to take place. Bets had been placed that could no longer be validated, and the hungry desire to watch bloodshood at hend would have to unquenched. In the span of heartbeats where it seemed one of the fighters was going to blast Kacela, the unclean desire to watch violence seemed as if it would be satisfied after all. That the man seemed to lose his nerve only acted as salt in a wound, and with many heads shaking and disparaging comments, the 'scum and villainy' of the Corellian cantina turn back to their drinks and conversations before the ruckus had drawn their attention.

A few people continue to watch Kacela, however, and Simon is one of them. If he were truly wise, he'd turn away as many of the other people in the bar, trying to blend in with his surroundings. Instead, he stands as he stood when holding the trigger of the blaster from being driven home, his blue eyed gaze fixed on Kacela beneath a furrowed brow. His stance is unassuming, and his arms are crossed in front of his chest. The irony of the tables being turned, with him giving her the knowing look where that had been her game a few days ago, completely misses Simon. It's not a malicious intent that he watches Kacela; he looks on with her with the same curiosity that one would give a snarling, caged beast.

Well, the girl had surived long enough without his constant protection. And on top of that, being outside was probably a better place to hang out right now that in there. Markus nods to himself, making his decision and the white haired young man turns around just to see how the events have just unfolded. "I...", he starts, his hand going up to scratch his head. "Well, well, that was quick. We should still get going, Sim-", Markus offers, with a half grin, but as he turns to regard Simon, he stops on his tracks.

The intent look his companion is giving Kacela is not lost on Markus, and it is then that it hits him that things just happened too easily. The Corellian frowns, and takes some steps towards the dropped weapon. He kneels on the floor, avoiding touching it, but studying it for a moment. He had figured out the trigger was locked, or something like that. But he was suspicious for some reason...

Markus' eyes go wide open, and slowly he stands up again, now quietly studying both Simon and Kacela.

The lust for blood goes further than the general crowd, Kacela was hoping for Darkan to wound her, so that she would have a provoked attack.. then she could sate her bloodlust and exact revenge on one of the last people still alive from her childhood. Her eyes stop dead on Simon, and she locks her cool gaze with his. Slowly, her feet take her towards the young man, silently and like a predator although her intentions are not to harm Simon. She regards him with curiosity, uncertainty.. she thought that she had met all who bear these gifts, but he is new.

"Who are you?" she asks in a tone that is both curious and demanding. She opens her clenched fist and passes what appears to be a smooth, partially cut stone from one hand to the other.. a very special stone. Her eyes pass over Simon, regarding him more carefully and closely than she did in the Starport. For now, Kacela pays little mind to Markus.. Simon holds the majority of her attention and all of her curiosity.

Had it been anyone else, Simon might have dipped into his old custom of greetings. There was different variations of the greeting amongst his people, tailored toward how a person felt about the person they were greeting. With Kacela, Simon doesn't incline his head in the slightest, but speaks plainly.

"I am not your prey, Hunter," Simon says, his odd accent slurring his words together in an odd fashion. "Know that my name is Simon, and that I will not dance the blades with you this day, in this place." The words are said in such a fashion as to denote formality, odd as they are.

Markus is not a warrior by profession. In fact, he has good enough skills to keep himself out of trouble, and he is not really a weapon's expert at all. He saw enough in the blaster, though, to know that there is more at hand than what is inmediately apparent to the normal senses. That an a funny feeling, in the back of his mind.

When Simon speaks, Markus arches an eyebrow curious and takes a few steps to stand back next to the man, offering his support. He has no idea who this woman is, and by the expression of his face, he seems to understand the woman is more experienced than he is in things like this. But he is still Corellian, and his loyalties are still with Simon. The white haired man remains silent, though. This isn't his moment to speak.

Yes, Simon is one.. Kacela concentrates on the young man for a moment, sensing what she perceives as a variation in the breeze or a firefly in a pitch black jungle. She would delve deeper, but she has exerted herself enough already, and something tells her that leaving a footprint may not be the wisest thing at the moment, she isn't powerful enough to completely cover her tracks. She places the soft, cut stone into the inside pocket of her jacket and she speaks softly, her voice edged by predatory instinct and her desire for violence.

"You are not my prey now, but you very well could be.." She pauses for a moment, and her eyes now move to Markus for a moment, "There will be no singing of the blades today, perhaps in the future.." Her eyes fall to the lightweapon, and her eyes burn. Skywalker will taste her new blade... when she builds it "If you are looking for direction, I can give it to you.. I can find you a teacher.. someone who would /love/ to see you." Kacela swallows slightly, offering this would leave even more competition for her master's attention, but not offering and then telling her Master would leave her either dead, in permanent pain or in exile.

From the moment that Simon had intervened in the fight to just until Markus added his presence to his own, Simon's focus had been drawn so tightly toward Kacela that he'd actually forgotten the Corellian was there. Something told him that there was so much at stake, something more than just his life when dealing with The Hunter, as he had labelled Kacela.

A shiver runs down his spine as the woman intrudes upon his mind lightly. The touch is light enough that he doesn't even realize it's there. Had he known, he might have done something rash. Instead, he turns his head to regard Markus a moment, taking comfort in the other's presence while at the same time feeling that surge of fear that the danger was growing. If either Kacela or Markus were hurt... he couldn't let this grow into another fight.

Simon turns his eyes to Kacela again, but his words are directed toward Markus. "Let's be gone from here, my friend." Suiting action to his words, Simon takes a single step back and toward the door.

Markus is mostly unaware of the situation developing between Kacela and Simon. Mostly. Something in the back of his mind seems to be nudging him about the events. Something he keeps pushing deeper into his psyche as he really doesn't want to deal with it right now. A nightmare outbreak right here, wouldn't be a good thing at all.

The Corellian offers Kacela a final look, smirking despite of himself and nods at his companion. "Good idea.". he responds and he turns around to walk out of the place. The man plans his path in such a way, as to not give his back fully to the woman. Something tells him, doing that much would be common sense. "I need to find Mira. She came in, but left when she saw what's going on. I don't know if she saw me or not. She must be scared.", the man muses, concern appearing in his voice.

The Hunter keeps her cold gaze on Simon for a long time, and her mind turns over the various scenarios that could come from this. She will have to get the young man alone if she wishes to bring him back to her master, now is not the time for this.. especially as she can't have a duel right now without a saber. As Markus approaches and then wanders towards the door, her eyes rest on him, her attention is still mostly on Simon, so she doesn't pick up anything out of the ordinary from Markus. For all she knows, he's just another Corellian. "We will meet again, Simon." Kacela muses quietly as she allows the young man to leave without conflict. After everyone has left she will mark a path to the exit, and continue the task that she has strayed from over the past few days. The childlike side of Kacela begins to bubble with excitement.. her trip to Corellia was definitely not a waste.

Once more, Simon follows Markus. Like the Corellian, he walks in such a way as to keep from turning his back on Kacela. This wouldn't be the last time they'd meet, he was certain. And, there would be fighting between them, though something told him that the battle would be on different grounds than he could forsee.

Mira... the girl. Simon found it odd that he should suddently know so certainly that Mira, Markus, and The Hunter were closely tied to his destiny. With equal certainty, Simon knew suddenly that Mira must have been equally cursed in the same fashion as he, Markus, and the strange woman. As Markus and Simon leave, he comments.

"There is a saying amongst the _Selas," he says, quietly. "There is no chance... only the True Source. I hope that Mira is well."