The gear that dropped was 320, though (legs twice, boo!), so that should have had an upgrade on the vendor I think? Seemed odd to me anyway!

For Sorc/Sage: Seconding this! I'd really love to see the damage buff unlinked from Force Speed and tied to something else! I was hoping for different Legendary effects from the current live set bonuses too, and feel like the healing related ones could be a bit more interesting. It's also possible they weren't showing up for me properly since I was checking them in a DPS spec (and picking Corruption in the dropdown), that might need to be clarified or fixed. I was also excited about the idea of getting fun utility over flat throughput effects, are any of those in the works?

It has definitely been brought up, but to add to the voices asking for this: I understand not wanting people to swap specs once inside a dungeon/warzone/operation, but could you please let us respec while in the queue and when it has popped before zoning in, since otherwise queueing as a healer but wanting to do anything else while waiting is terribly tedious! If I queue as a DPS/Healer it'd be nice to actually be able to swap to the role the game has assigned me. I'd also rather like to have ways to add icons and keybinds to different loadouts for faster switching, also perhaps the instance switch restriction doesn't need to be there for solo flashpoints? Other than that I like the setup, even if right now the UI is still a bit cumbersome and hard to navigate. I've been lucky not having too many bugs switching between loadouts and having keybinds or gear vanish, maybe that is linked to swapping between mirrors (inquisitor to consular, albeit sorc to shadow)?

I like that the emphasis is more on weeklies over dailies. However, I find it odd that different weeklies give different amounts of points, meaning we can't pick and choose quite as freely if we want to maximise points per week. I'd prefer it if all weeklies gave the same amount of points and were adjusted accordingly, especially with a few in there you can't help but complete through playing (earning conquest points for example), which could lock you out of a different, more lucrative reward if you're unlucky. I have only checked the objectives for this week, which is more focused on warzones, GSF and small group content, but I really hope any operation related weeklies will let me choose the difficulty level I want to run at, rather than prescribing a groupfinder storymode. Some of the new rewards are fun, like purple gathering missions and dyes, although the latter could do with a box, rather than suddenly taking up all that inventory space. It felt like I was getting them at a decent pace, I was more focused on leveling and gearing, but was still getting regular season rewards through that.

It felt quite confusing to me at first and I feel like I messed up by jumping right into an OPs and then some flashpoints instead of finishing my conquest and bumping up my gear to 320, giving me a weird mix of gear that was all over the place. I did eventually reach 322, though in order to get all pieces at that level I need to organise which pieces come from where and see if I can target those since the currency acquisition feels quite slow. After doing it once all over the place it started to make a bit more sense, although I'm still unsure what to do with some of my currencies from the PvP weekly and the remaining OPs pieces. I also couldn't upgrade tionese gear at the operation gear vendor, only elite decurion, why is that? Overall it didn't feel very satisfying to do content that didn't give me the upgrades I needed. I like being able to get gear from different sources, but the different currencies feel very restrictive. I have 72 thyrsian production accelerant after finishing my weekly, which is enough for one piece of gear (40), but I don't see myself really using the leftovers for anything anytime soon. For a single character it didn't feel too terrible, at least once I'd worked out what I was supposed to do. I don't imagine running alts will be too fun, however. I'd like it if there were more drops from bosses to get the standard 320 set a little faster, then upgrade it over time, rather than having to spend a lot of commendations to buy the gear to upgrade first. I don't think introducing five new currencies to juggle is the way to go. I liked the previous system where all content made it possible to acquire the gear I needed, via legacy wide drops or currencies, so I could keep alts up to date by playing my main. That is sort of still the case, but with getting a set being so slow it doesn't feel as easy to do--although I did end up sending away all my old and offspec (non accuracy) gear, since I was getting upgrades for those pieces instead of the ones I was wearing. :/

Hi! With the available rewards and having wanted to do a story replay for a bit now, I decided to give the leveling a go. So far my impressions are that it needs a good bit of work, unfortunately, especially in regards to speed and ability pacing. I did a full evening of story questing at a fairly relaxed pace, on a character with all of the class quest exp unlocks, a maxed Shae Vizla and some other legacy perks like the higher level colour crystals as well as a couple of exp boosts from rewards and story missions. I didn't use DvL armour because I forgot where I'd stashed that and didn't transfer any over. I played the Consular storyline as a sorcerer. The leveling speed did not feel great, I did not do many planetary missions, in fairness, hoping to get by with my companion/gear advantages and supplementing where I needed to with flashpoints or other content. I didn't realise there was no group flashpoint queue for leveling characters, that seems odd. I also ended up quite underleveled by the end of Tatooine and am now level 25 with Alderaan (starts at level 28) to go. As fun as the planet stories and side quests can be, I think it should be doable to level through mostly story quests, especially with a subscriber bonus, the legacy bonus and a consumable buff! I was not a fan of the ability pacing. It felt like it took far too long for me to get more than my starting kit of abilities and had to cycle three spells that did not feel like a rotation (shock, force lightning and lightning bolt), but rather a random selection of spells that did not interact with each other. I also really, really miss having any dots until level 23 as the dot spec when I switched to Madness, and then it's only crushing darkness until level 31, Phew! The UI is also a little confusing in terms of figuring out when I get what with certain abilities tied to the ability tree and others coming from trainers, except not, they just appear. Spec identity: By default I started as lightning spec, which unlocks the Lightning Storm ability from level one that keeps proccing without giving me anything to push since I don't get Chain Lightning until level 23 (which took a whole evening of casual play). Madness' ability made a lot more sense in that regard, although gaining the first set of spec abilities as late as level 23 doesn't feel fun. There's no real distinction between these two specs until that level, and lightning especially feels confusing and clunky. I feel like my companion was doing most of the work of killing things off while I ineffectively channeled either force storm or lightning at something and threw out a stun every now and again. No interrupts until level 31 is also uncool! I thought that with all the unlocks I used I'd feel pretty powerful, and while I never felt behind until around Tatooine, I didn't really feel ahead much either after Coruscant. I don't think playing the mirror spec made for such a stark difference in gameplay experience, and might try a class I have played a little less to death at some point to see if it feels any different, but I didn't really enjoy myself overly leveling this character. I have 4 max level sorcs on live, with a handful of high level (60-70) variants dotted around, so normally the class is not a big issue in terms of enjoying my leveling experience As a side note, I also felt like gaining conquest points felt really slow and not very rewarding. I got a lot of pop ups from completing conquest objectives and little else. /edit: I think it should be a lot more visible what I get with each level both in advance and as it happens. There's no alert when a new talent row unlocks and I get to make a choice and new abilities just appear on my bar, further adding to the feeling of new levels not really giving me anything.

Concluded after all! After fighting their way through the security system, battling past the Darth’s creations and defeating his very essence in its lair, Liracen had expected something a little more… grand. The machine was about the size of a coffee table, sat prominently in a largely empty room at the back of the hall, surrounded by nothing but dust. It had numerous pyramid shaped inserts, which clued her in on having found what they’d come for - little else did. Neither Senth nor Tareq had said a word, both getting to work on searching the room and the device for traps. The pale-haired woman had settled in next to it, pulling out packaging materials while running a quick scan. They’d likely be able to carry it out strapped onto her back, Liracen mused, though she wasn’t quite certain how the assassin would take to the suggestion of becoming a pack-mule. She caught a whiff of a familiar scent and turned, spotting the glowing end of a cigarra where the marksman crouched by the doorway. Liracen moved over to join him, lacking anything better to do. Her part in this came later. He glanced up, she thought she saw a glint of teeth in the gloom, then realised he was holding out his packet to her. She shook her head quickly, he snorted, unsurprised. She watched as tobacco and paper burned with each inhalation. There was a hypnotic rhythm to it, the faint hiss and crackle as embers consumed, the sharp sting in her eyes and nose as smoke drifted by. She couldn’t see it in the dark, but she could feel it, like webbed whispers against her skin. He stood, suddenly. She had to crane her head up to follow the orange glow. There was a hoarseness to his voice that she didn’t entirely attribute to his habit. “Boss… m’Lord. About what I saw-...” She raised a hand placatingly. “It’s fine, Tareq, you don’t have to…” Mistake. She couldn’t see, but she heard. And then she saw. His words died, marked by the rictus grin that stretched across his face. Not even a heartbeat filled the sudden stillness between them. Then, a hiss, a crackle, sharp, stinging smoke. “Sob-story won’t even get me a fondle, huh? S’pose there’s no point then.” He’d turned before she could answer. Her hand still hovered uselessly between them. It’d be a long flight home.

She was almost relieved when the silence broke, even if it heralded trouble. Senth had returned to indicate the way to the next level lay just ahead, down a rickety flight of stairs. The instant Liracen set foot onto the grated bottom step she heard it: the soft hum of electricity, the whirr of servomotors, the click of targeting arrays adjusting. She saw by she way Senth’s stance shifted just beside her that she’d heard it too. The woman sank into a low crouch, crept soundlessly into the shadowed hall ahead. With a low grunt and a soft click, Tareq unholstered his rifle, taking his cue from the assassin. Good man. Liracen opened herself to the Force, the narrow passageway they stood in shifting in its flow. She waited the space of a heartbeat then sent out her power, dug its fingers into the wall beside her and tore loose the plating to yank it screeching in front of them. Mayhem ensued. Turrets folded themselves from the floor to spit plasma and light the room in a staccato frenzy as three hulking forms lurched into motion at the back of the hall. The Sith’s blade sprang to life - violet, she noted - hissing through the air as she repelled any bolts her makeshift barrier couldn’t block. Tareq slid smoothly into cover, answering the first volley with counterfire that reduced two of the turrets to smouldering debris. Many-segmented limbs dragged massive shapes forward as Kahsun’s grotesque machines closed in. They were large, insect-like in design, with a multitude of appendages sprouting from a central thorax, several of which ended in vicious looking spikes and scythes. Their heads split, mandible-like, opening and snapping shut with crushing power, while a final, oddly bloated section scraped along the floor behind them. Liracen found herself questioning Kahsun’s awkward design decision moments before their purpose revealed itself. Senth had materialised behind the closest droid, having determined a frontal assault too risky. With inhuman agility the pale-haired woman vaulted onto the machine, climbing nimbly up its body while it thrashed helplessly, immobile now with the woman’s extra weight pinning it down. Two vicious blades flashed before she sunk them up to the hilts into the slimmer area between segments, slashing cruelly to sever the droid’s lower body amidst a spray of coolant and sparks. A series of rapid slices at the flailing droid’s limbs had it crashing to the floor to join its lower half, whose sudden movement gave the assassin momentary pause. It twitched, emitting a metallic groan before splitting, revealing a hollow interior populated by a myriad of smaller mechanoids, arachnid in appearance, that burst from the larger machine’s remains. Liracen thrust her power forward to push back the onslaught, sending tiny bodies flying. Tareq yelled something and she flexed her fingers, wove power around Senth’s form to drag her forward instead, clearing the blast radius of the grenade he’d flung by a handspan. Heat and fumes stung harshly as the writhing mass of metallic limbs was engulfed in flame. Liracen struggled not to close her watering eyes. It was then that what had once been Kahsun chose to strike again. This time, she sensed the approach. Fueled by his machines’ assault his spirit screamed towards them. Liracen rose to meet him as her companions rallied to engage his remaining monstrosities, senses stretching out as she skimmed along the Force’s currents. He’d drunk deeply from a near century of seething hatred, she sensed his savage glee at the imminent confrontation, his surprise and terror as she merely brushed him aside. Hubris and delusion, ever the comfortable bedfellows; he’d fallen for the whisperings of his own madness. She felt his screams reverberate through the Force as she unraveled him, pulled apart what had been his essence and flung the remnants of his being at his creations, pinning one with the dead Darth’s depleting power to provide a static target for the marksman’s final explosive. She gathered her magic, then, wove it tightly around the pale-haired woman’s twitching opponent, her free hand gesturing fluidly. Her fingers danced as if she were directing an orchestra as she tightened her spell further and further, ignored the anguished squeal of metal and plasteel while she worked, ignored, too the others finishing off the turrets as she spun her power and crushed the droid in its vice-like grip. When she finally released her hold, only a handful of misshapen metal clattered to the ground.

Two floors ago they’d found a vast nest. Enterprising reptiles had settled into the brackish remnants of what must once have been the structure’s water treatment centre. Tareq’s well-aimed flare had swiftly discouraged the beasts from a serious attempt at defending their territory, clearing the path downward for the trio of intruders. Liracen’s eyes had watered as she’d struggled not to gag at the stench, but her relief at having left behind the worst of it had been short lived. It stank down here. The airflow into the complex’ lower reaches was so pitiful with its ventilation system a near century out of order that Liracen felt decades of stagnation sliding wetly down her windpipe. She resisted the urge to clear her throat again and pushed her braid back over her shoulder as she ducked under a series of loose cables. She was certain she could feel each intake of breath fouling her airways, leaving behind indelible tracks of its passage that’d fester and grow until she’d withered and rotted from the inside out. She did clear her throat then, the sound ugly, hacking and loud in the viscous silence surrounding them. Senth glanced at her, expression blank. Tareq, however, kept his gaze averted, blond head lowered until his chin almost touched his chest. Of course he’d sense it where the other wouldn’t. That one probably didn’t even need to breathe, Liracen mused with a pang of irritation; she probably was asking herself why she was stuck here with two useless organics slowing her down, when alone she could have been in and out in half the time. If that soulless thing thought she could rid herself of-... Liracen blinked. Oh. She forced herself to breathe in deeply through her nose, out through her mouth. In. Out. She could see the tendrils now, reaching for her, murmuring dark terrors. She’d expected droids, turrets and monstrous mechanisms, not this. Foolish. They sought a Darth’s century-old secrets, of course the remnants of his being would have awakened at their incursion, grown over time in malevolence and need, even as his power had waned to near nothing: its paltry touch had barely roused her defenses. He’d hooked on to something, however; her disgust at the filth surrounding them, her mistrust of her companions, the anger she still bore for the assassin. A crack in the facade. Liracen rubbed her palms across her upper arms with a frown. A crack was all it took. She lashed out with her mind and pushed the whispers aside decisively, turned to regard the others. Darkness coiled around the pale-haired woman, yet she seemed unperturbed, the dead man’s treacherous susurration likely finding no purchase in that one’s sleek psyche. Liracen swatted the darkness away with the assassin none the wiser, gestured for the other woman to scout ahead as she approached the third in their band. Tareq’s eyes were closed. He would have looked peaceful had it not been for the rapid movement behind his lids, the thin straight line etched between his brows. She slipped closer still as she peeled webbed strands of darkness off his motionless form, her voice gentle as she spoke his name. Dull grey eyes snapped open. He lifted a hand to her face as if to touch it, fleeting recognition in his gaze that she knew saw a face other than hers. A quick succession of emotions followed, from anger to hurt to grief that wrenched at her heart. When his grin returned she knew she had him back, even if it lacked its usual edge. She turned to continue down the path, wincing at his lasting silence behind her.

The structure grew like a tumor from the planet’s swampy surface, its rigid skeleton reaching skyward even as time and climate had weathered away much of its innards. Senth’s blueprints suggested the complex stretched further underground, she suspected that was where they'd find their target, rather than in the hollowed out spires towering above them. Her kin could mirror ancient beasts of myth in that regard, prone to grandiosity and pomp and to keeping their hoard secured in cavernous lairs. Tareq lay prone on his front, blond head barely cresting the small ridge they'd chosen to scout out the site from. He lowered his macrobinoculars, turned and shimmied down towards her position, stretching long legs out beside her. “Not much ta see, no movement. T’other might spot more up close.” He didn't call Senth by name often. Liracen winced, but couldn't for sure guess the other woman's feelings on the matter. Did she have feelings left to get hurt? Either way, she was scouting ahead, out of hearing range of Tareq’s callousness; sparing them the discomfort of her presence. Liracen tugged her long braid over her shoulder, plucked at the end. Tareq glanced over, stretched out his hand holding the binoculars. “Wanna check?” She shook her head, flashed him a quick smile. She wasn't concerned with what resistance they might encounter, even if droids could be tricky opponents, entirely immune to a large part of her particular talents, for instance. They lacked the unpredictability on flesh and blood combatants, however, making them both more efficient and less worrisome. Short of keeping a small army hidden away in his underground fortress she doubted the late Darth’s defenses would more than slow their… what had he called it? spelunking. Tareq had clenched an unlit stogie between his teeth, shifted it, now, from one corner of his mouth to the other, pearly-whites glinting in the approaching dusk. She had to wonder as to the sheer… vitality of that grin. Generally to consume as much tobacco as he did resulted in losing one’s smile to the drug’s demands. His, however, glinted sharply as ever, making her wonder as to his secret: a foreign blend or excellent dental care? Senth returned. Not a moment too soon, Liracen realised, halting her train of thought and flicking her gaze to the pale-haired woman after having let it rest entirely too long on the lanky blond’s features. He spared her a remark, for once, sitting up as the assassin stepped out of the underbrush. She’d let them hear her approach, the soft rustle of damp foliage the equivalent of a nerf’s trampling advance in comparison to her usual soft step. Senth shook her head minutely, meaning, Liracen surmised, that she'd found no trace of outward defenses, no droids patrolling the perimeter, no turrets set to repel an intrusion. If they were to meet any resistance, it would be in the mechanized depths of the complex, in the belly of the beast. Liracen stood, brushed swamp muck off her suit. She'd changed into one of Herul’s when they'd arrived in orbit. The hilt of Than’s blade sat loosely at her hip. She'd never checked the colour of the blade. Red, she assumed, taken during-… She tilted her head. Perhaps blue or green were more likely, then. She waved for her companions to fall in beside her as she made her way to Darth Kahsun’s former seat of power.

Thanks to an unfortunate page break the first part to this is the last post on page 2! WIP, so hopefully I'll have a conclusion soon. Her hair had dried by the time the world came back into focus around her, she let the holocron slip from limp fingers onto her bunk and gathered her robes around herself. Flicking the switch on the commlink, she gave her agent the coordinates and a name, rose and stretched muscles simultaneously cramping from inactivity and languidly relaxed. An odd sensation as her mind tried to align events in the landscape of thought with her physical reality, even for one such as her: no stranger to duality. She felt the small ship shift as it left Nar Shaddaa’s orbit, shuddering slightly as it escaped the atmospheric pull. She reached into her bag again, rummaged briefly for more appropriate attire. Beyond the Moon in neutral space she could have worn what was familiar, but caution dictated she stay incognito, maintain her disguise even beyond where anyone could feasibly be expected to recognize the former Lord. She tugged on a spacer’s suit and loose coat, braided her hair and let it hang down her back, its tip brushing the end of her spine. She kept the eyepatch off, for now. The constant lack of depth-perception when she wore it gave her a headache, making her question the wisdom of using this accessory as part of her ruse. She rubbed a fingertip along the edge of her nose then flexed her hand; still unfamiliar, this lack of gloves. She hoped she wouldn't regret their absence in the future, but had so far managed to steer clear of unwanted touches by her brethren, no Sith seemingly as inclined to breach her personal space as some of her associates were. She cast one of the worst offenders a glare as she stepped back into the cockpit, ignored his feigned look of hurt and the broad grin that belied it. Senth had retreated into the corner holding a holo-console, eyes flickering vacantly as she browsed data only visible to her inner gaze, chasing up on Liracen’s lead, she hoped. Tareq had folded himself into the captain’s chair, content to let the autopilot take over as he lounged idly. She saw his fingers twitch and found herself briefly gleeful at his discomfort. She'd flat out forbidden him his cigarras while en route in their already cramped spacecraft, gone so far as to threaten to have the assassin confiscate them. She chided herself a moment later for her pettiness. Even if she couldn't quite fathom just why the man seemed so adept at riling her up, he hardly deserved to suffer for it. Ducking back out and into the small crew section she decided to prepare him a caffa while she brewed tea for herself. She wasn't sure whether to offer anything to Senth, couldn't actually recall whether she'd ever seen the woman eat or drink. She shrugged and resolved to offer her something once all relevant data had been collated, figuring any approach before then pointless anyway. Grabbing both tin cups by their handles, she wound her way back around the small space and slid into the co-pilot’s seat at Tareq’s side to hold up her peace-offering. He drawled something to make her blush, but curled long fingers around his cup and shot her a grateful grin that made her almost forget her annoyance with him. Almost. She settled back into her seat, let the flimsy cup’s warmth heat up her palms and tried not to focus too much on the tunnel of bright light beyond the viewport as they sped through hyperspace to their destination.

A work in progress! Next part is in editing, but the ending has not been forthcoming, hoping for some inspiration/pressure to finish by posting. Kahsun's Legacy She felt as cumbersome as a hobbled gundark inside the suit, convinced any moment now someone would see through the ruse or, worse, actually address her in Mando’a. Her pronunciation remained abysmal, even if understanding of its structure came to her quite easily. Language was just another puzzle, after all. That infernal spot between her shoulderblades was itching again, difficult enough to reach when not clad in a mobile bomb-shelter; impossible now. She rolled her shoulders in what she hoped looked like a casual gesture, suppressed a sigh at the absolute lack of relief the movement brought and wondered, not for the first time, how some people could bear to walk around in one of these things all day. She had no idea where Tareq had gotten his hand on what appeared to be genuine mandalorian armour, even if she was reasonably certain it wasn’t beskar’gam. Perhaps it was just a convincing fake. She certainly hoped so. She was fairly certain any real Mando’ade would raise a few objections to her pilfering one of their most prized possessions and using it as a cheap disguise to get off-planet undetected. Besides, a full suit was worth a fortune. The man was resourceful, but not that resourceful. At least the suit seemed to discourage anybody from looking at her too closely; the full helmet’s visor wouldn’t have given much away about her identity anyhow, likely his plan. Stars, she hated it when his schemes worked. It always left him insufferably smug for days. Senth, flanking him on the other side, stood as still as a statue. The woman hardly needed a disguise to avoid security, especially in a place named the Smuggler’s Moon, but Tareq had insisted on a duo of Mandalorian bodyguards. Liracen was beginning to suspect that they were mostly here to inflate his ego rather than to add any credibility to his cover. She squinted at his wiry from ahead, leaning over the counter towards the clerk, whose pained expression told her plenty about the contents of their conversation. She caught herself pitying the woman for a moment until remembering that the more memorable he made himself, the less likely it’d be that the clerk would recall much about his two hulking - the suits saw to that - silent bodyguards. Liracen inwardly saluted the woman for her noble sacrifice. It seemed an age before they could make their way - uncharacteristically awkwardly, in her case, the heavy suit impeded her movements and she didn’t dare use the Force to help her progress - across to the hangar bays and into the ship he’d... acquisitioned. It took all of her discipline not to strip out of the armour the moment the doors shut behind them. Discipline and the knowledge of how much he’d enjoy the show. She yanked off her helmet nonetheless, ran fingers through her sweat-matted curls and exhaled, not meeting the others’ eyes - and grin - as she announced: “I’m going for a shower. Call me when you’ve got this thing off the ground.”

Herul’s expert craftsmanship sat like a second skin, flowing like liquid over her form. She traced a finger around the inlay at her throat, the gem nestled among the fabric there. She’d avoided her reflection, too vivid the memory of the last time she’d worn a garment like this, but she knew the crystal glittered in the same eerie hue as her eyes. The door thrummed open and shut behind her, long strides suddenly coming to a halt with a sharp intake of breath. Liracen stifled a groan, turned and was greeted by a grin so wide she wasn’t certain how the man’s head was still attached. She gestured sharply to forestall any comment and activated her spell. The Force wrapped itself around her, obscuring her shape, her enchantment’s success measurable by the look of disappointment on the blond man’s face. She could tell by the way his gaze flickered that he was having trouble focusing on her, despite being stood only a couple of steps away. She allowed herself a small smile that lasted right up until he spoke. “Yeh sure know how ta give a man sweet dreams fer the rest of his life, boss. Not that I’ll ever sleep again.” She scowled, its effect entirely lost on him. “Just take me to her, Tareq.” __ She’d left him half a block back to find an elevated position - not without a smarmy comment about ‘watching her back’, of course - and moved on alone, trusting her magic and the general hubbub of the Moon to cover her approach. Senth had outlined a number of potential points of engagement, one just around the next corner in an alley leading to the backdoor of one of the red light district’s many disreputable clubs their target frequented on occasion. With the area’s residents well accustomed to turning two blind eyes to any sign of trouble, as common here as in the darker parts of Neon City, the location hadn’t needed much deliberation at all. Crouching down in the shadow of a large trash-compactor which residents appeared to have taken more as a general suggestion on where garbage ought to accumulate, Liracen waited, hugging her arms around herself in a futile effort to escape the smells thickening the air. She wrinkled her nose and made herself smaller, waiting for Senth to make an appearance. It was unlike her to be late. A knot in her gut just moments after she’d finished that thought alerted her to another presence. She turned and met quicksilver eyes, all questions reduced to a lump in her throat by the woman’s icy stare. Instead, she resigned herself to following Senth’s gesture towards where a pair of voices were becoming louder ahead. In a blink, the pale-haired woman had vanished from sight, leaving not even a whisper in the Force for Liracen to track. She continued forward to peer around the bend. Two figures were making their noisy way along the street, one supporting the other who was swaying heavily with the aftereffects of too much of the joint’s cheap, yet seemingly effective booze. Their target, judging by the dim light reflecting off of large, liquid eyes and his long snout, bent eagerly towards his decidedly underdressed companion. Liracen blushed. The young man in question could have been human or zabraki, perhaps even mirialan, given how the lighting was rendering his colouring indeterminable. She squinted in an effort to make out any visible horns or facial tattoos when the stranger suddenly seemed to sprout two slender hands from the side of his head that clasped around his throat and left a bloodied gash widening like a hideous smile. She broke into a run, but had been too late before she’d even set off, skidding to a halt next to the crumpled body just as the last of his life’s blood welled over the dirty concrete. Senth was advancing on the rodian, brandishing the wicked blade with which she’d just cut his companion’s throat. Through his drug-induced haze the man was only now beginning to fully realise the danger he was in, bug-eyes widening and a wail of despair building in his throat that Liracen quickly silenced with a hand over his snout, maneuvering herself between the terrified alien and the assassin. Far from gratitude, however, he began to flail in panic as his gaze slid from her shape, leaving him blind to this supposed second assailant. She sighed and held him fast with the Force, finding herself quickly running out of options. This was going not at all to plan. She looked at Senth, whose impassive, almost bored mien only helped to disturb her more deeply, then finally reached out with her mind, planting a compulsion deep within the man’s fear-addled consciousness. She frowned as she let him go, the placid smile on his face chilling her to the bone. She watched him walk off dazedly and spoke without turning to the woman at her side. “He stays alive.” “Until the bounty is lifted.” Liracen rounded on her, anger clenching in her stomach as she hissed: “No, Senth. He stays alive.” The woman nodded minutely, nothing indicating whether she was affected by the Sith’s disapproval. Liracen squeezed her eyes shut and counted inwardly to ten. When she opened them again she was alone in the alley, a rapidly cooling corpse at her feet.

Loose Ends The holonet’s data streams shimmered. A cat’s cradle of algorithms that spanned galaxies, fluidly sliding into the creases of her consciousness. She remained apart, held on to the pulse drumming in her aural pathways, human where little else remained. Blood and skin a handful of organs; all that remained. A feed caught her attention, a live show from a containment facility, gratuitous violence to sate the masses, remind them of the fate that befell the unfaithful, the traitors to their cause. Yellow eyes amidst a tangle of fleshy bodies bored into hers, she knew the face behind them. A near forgotten part of the machine that keep her thoughts caged seized, bellowed its command through her entire being. -Primary Directive- >boot sequence initiated; __ Cheap booze sang in his blood. Screeched, more like; nothing overly poetic, really, in how his body worked overtime to rid itself of the poison he'd poured down his gullet. He cheerfully inhaled a lungful of sour smoke from the ragged nub clenched between his teeth and picked his way down the filthy alley; too sober to sway - too damn professional for that, even when he allowed himself a rare night off - too drunk to notice anything amiss until a pale shape peeled itself from the shadows. It came into focus, he reconsidered. No amount of sobriety could alert one to the likes of her if she didn't care to be seen. On the plus side, that meant she probably wasn't going to kill him. His tone was a study in practiced nonchalance, not a hint of a slur. Too damn professional. “Evenin’ sister.” Nothing. He was hardly surprised, stretched lips into his customary smirk. “Boss is alive.” Was that a nod or had some gust of stale air belched from the city’s nethers just ruffled a silvery strand or two? He was getting too old for this shavit. “Let's get yeh two reunited then.” And won't that be a delight? __ The red crystal had cracked, not entirely unexpectedly, its synthetic core too unstable for her ministrations. Perhaps someone more adept than her could have salvaged the gem, but there was a reason Liracen had used this one for her trial run. Crimson splinters dusted the wooden surface before her. She turned the amber shard between her forefinger and thumb, let the light dance off its many facets. They were beautiful, these crystals, delicate yet powerful, even when not at the heart of one of the most deadly weapons in the galaxy. She wasn't certain what minds could have thought to turn such beauty toward destruction; from an order dedicated to galactic peace, no less. She frowned. The door went, she didn't bother checking, only one other person had the entry code; the scent of tobacco identified her visitor even before his customary drawl. “Honey, I'm home,” she could hear his grin, “‘n look who we have stayin’ fer dinner.” She blinked, turned, recognised the shape beside him in an instant and sat up a little straighter. “Senth! I-... It's good to-... Welcome.” The other woman said nothing, Liracen swallowed, stood and approached. “I hope you've been well.” What an absolutely useless thing to say. She cleared her throat. Tareq’s grin had widened a fraction, the other woman just regarded her impassively. “Orders?” “Right!” Liracen tugged at her braid, curled a stray strand of hair back behind an ear. “Actually, there is a matter you could look in to for me. “Boss...” She ignored the warning in Tareq’s voice. “An associate of mine has found himself in a spot of trouble with a bounty on his head. Goes by V, or Alex. I'd like to keep him out of danger, he's been ever so helpful.” The pale-haired woman turned and left. Tareq flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. “She's not gonna stick ta observin’, that one.” Liracen sighed, pressed two fingers to her temple. “I know. But did you really want her staying here?” He'd moved to the cabinet holding his selection of liquor. “... I'll fix yeh a drink, sweets.” She could only nod.

A one-off, but it felt like it worked on its own. Also the first story post five year timeskip. Homecoming The Smuggler’s Moon breathed. It was a sound not often registered in the upper reaches of the Neon City, where bright lights and ugly secrets, the roar of crowds and the rush of movement through her arteries could drown out its rattling exhalation. This dull creak and groan was audible only in the lower sectors, punctuated by the clash and clang of the factories that made up the city’s failing nervous system, surrounded by megatons of iron and durasteel that were her skeleton as the moon wheezed its decade-spanning dying breaths. Liracen crept through the shadows, easier here than in the spaceport’s stark light, where only her brother's credits and a few whispered words could make certain her passage remained unnoticed. The old refinery’s main entrance loomed before her, the odour of old chemicals still lingering faintly, adding to the myriad of strange and intrusive smells in the air. She counted herself lucky that the ventilation system she’d had installed had banished it from within the complex, gratified to find it worth the exorbitant price she’d paid, even if right now she doubted she’d find it still intact. The doors slid open as she approached, though one creaked and halted, warped plasteel blocking its passage, necessitating agile maneuvering to enter. She was greeted within by the dull hum of machinery, screens flickering at the far end of the room providing the sole lightsource beyond what spilled in from the brightness behind her in the seconds it took the doors to squeal shut. She could make out vague shapes only, but needed little else, familiar enough with the layout of the bulky terminals and desks within the old factory’s datacenter that she could wind her way around them in her sleep. Dust stirred as she walked on soft soles, a thick layer of it judging by the sneeze she suddenly has to suppress and the grittiness of the air in her lungs. It gave her hope. Her path downwards passed in more silence, the wall paneling hiding the console snapping open as quickly as if it had been freshly greased, giving her pause. Had a scavenger nested in her refuge after all? She raked teeth over her lower lip, exhaling in relief as her code still worked, panels sliding back to reveal the entrance to her former sanctuary and the scent of greenery wafting from within. With a smile she took a step inside, lashes flickering as eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness of her living room before a soft click sounded at the back of her skull. A gravelly voice drawled over her left shoulder in a familiar lilt: “Yeh’ve got all of two seconds ta convince me not ta blow yer brains out, sweetling. Talk fast.” She froze, then lifted her hands, palms forward, her power surging to life as she turned her head and tilted her chin to let him sneak a glimpse under her heavy hood. She hoped her eyes wouldn’t catch him off guard, curled her lips into a smile for good measure, voice silky: “Is that a way to greet an old friend, Tareq?” “... Yer Lordship?” Liracen turned fully and was rewarded with a rare sight: Tareq, dumbfounded, gawping at her open-mouthed while an unlit cigarette-butt clung desperately to his lower lip. He’d acquired some ink, she saw, alien symbols adorning the joints of his fingers and forearms while a splash of colour and shapes peeked out from under the collar of his loose shirt. His pale hair was tied back as usual, longer, perhaps, than she remembered, with a little more than stubble around his chin to match. The lines around his eyes were deeper now, even widened as they were while his gaze flicked across her features. She nodded at the slugthrower still pointed at her face and arched a brow, causing him to lower the weapon and allow her to brush back her hood, free her mass of dark curls from its confines and offer him another warm smile. “It’s good t-” The breath was knocked from her as she suddenly found long, powerful arms circling her, crushing her to his chest to inhale the scent of his skin and of tobacco from those infernal cigarras he was rarely seen without. She hesitated, swallowed drily, then tentatively began to wind her arms around his lean form, uncertain what to make of this sudden outburst of emotion until she felt one long-fingered hand traveling down to the small of her back, aiming lower. With an exasperated huff she pushed him from her and glared at his new and more familiar expression: the shark-like smirk that seemed to stretch from one ear to the other and the glint in his dull grey eyes. His tone was all feigned innocence and honey: “Aw, sweetheart, ‘n here I thought we were getting all romantic ‘n shavit!” She rolled her eyes, unable to quite stop the amusement tugging at the corners of her mouth from showing. Seemed like some things were never going to change. She found a certain amount of comfort in that.