Dolarra: /overthere

Colran: /ponder

Wynston*: /dance

Ruth*: /clubdance

Rylon: /gloat

Larr Gith: /flirt

Vierce*: /salute

Kirsk*: The Smuggler regen, Recuperate or whatever it's called

Rho*: Believe it or not, I could only get that tiny grin by watching for the end of the /kiss animation.

Dahlia: /flirt

Nalenne*: /impatient

Niselle*: /rude

Nic*: Simply weapons drawn.

* Characters I actually have played or intend to play

"I hate Quesh," Sana muttered, staring around at the toxic orange world in disgust.

"So, let's get to that meeting and get off this rock," Aric said, jumping off the shuttle ramp.

"I hate meetings," Sana growled, jumping off as well.

Aric raised an eyebrow at her tone.

"I hate meetings on Quesh," she said very loudly, glaring at one of the soldiers who happened to be standing near by. He gulped and avoided her gaze.

"Then let's get moving," Aric said calmly, "sooner we're there, the sooner we're gone."

"Not true," Sana said, jumping into the two-seat speeder and revving the engine, "you know the Jedi rep will be late because he had to go meditate or some crap and the Hutt will be late because well, he's a fricking Hutt, and....I. Hate. Meetings!"

"And they say I'm the grumpy one," Aric muttered.

"What was that?!?"

"Nothing."

Sana glared at him. She drove the fairly short distance to the Hutt's center of operations. The place was swarming with underworld thugs.

"Should have brought Vik," Aric said, "He'd have fit right in."

Sana snorted, a reluctant grin edging out her scowl. "He probably owes half of them money, or they owe him money. Place would be a crater before we left. Although...."

"Sana..." Aric said warningly.

"Fine."

The cartel thugs checked their ids before they headed up the curved entrance to Prago's main chambers. Sana readjusted her rifle. Hutt palaces always made her twitchy...or maybe that was just the smell.

"Right this way," a protocol droid said, leading the way to a side chamber. They could hear low voices so for once they weren't the first ones to show.

"...should stop at Ord Mant...Mom?"

"Esma!" Sana quickly gave her adopted daughter a tight hug and then passed her off to Aric who lifted her off the ground, "what are you doing here?"

Esma grinned at her. "This security meeting thing for Prago's shipments...you're the military contact?"

"Unfortunately," Sana said, "who did you....oh." She spotted Scourge standing off to the side, blending into the shadows.

"Lord Scourge," Sana said tightly, giving him a begrudging nod.

He returned the nod, "Major Kaarde, Captain Jorgan."

"How long have you been waiting?" Sana asked, pointedly ignoring the Sith.

"Half an hour or so," Esma said with a shrug. Then she stepped in close and whispered in Sana's ear, "I need to talk to you when we get done here."

"Is everything alright?" Sana asked quietly.

"Yes, but I need to tell you something."

Sana frowned, but she nodded.

"Do you smell that?" Aric said, frowning.

"I sense something..." Scourge trailed off.

Sana quickly moved to the door and tried it. Sealed. "Figures," she said in disgust.

"Gas, coming in from the vent," Aric said with a cough, pointing at the small vent in the ceiling.

"Scourge and I can hold our breath, but what about..." Esma stopped as Sana injected something into her leg. She raised her eyebrow. "You brought antitoxin?"

"You didn't? We're meeting with Hutts on Quesh," Sana said, making sure her husband and daughter were innoculated. She hesitated and then handed the last injector to Scourge.

"This was supposed to be a friendly meeting!" Esma protested.

"Esma, you want to try your hand at this console before I blow the door to smithereens? I'd rather save the explosives for later if we could." Sana said, examining the door. Esma scowled at Scourge who was smirking at her and then moved to the console.

"Ready?" she asked before she hit the final command. Sana raised an eyebrow when Scourge took point but nodded. The door slid open. A small pack of Gamorreans stood there. In the second it took for them to process that the door had opened on what was supposed to be a room full of corpses, they were cut down by lightsabers and firepower. The quartet moved through the hall out to the main room.

"The entrance is clear, we can make it no problem," Esma said, checking around the corner.

"I say we make this Hutt think twice before double-crossing the Republic," Aric said, hefting his autocannon.

"I like the sound of that," Sana said.

"These curs should be destroyed," Scourge added.

Esma looked at the three of them. "Really? Destruction and carnage? Scourge, I expect it of you, but Mom? Dad?"

"This is about justice, honey," Aric said to his daughter.

"As much as I dislike agreeing with Lord Scourge, the Hutts need to be taught a lesson," Sana said grimly.

"Fine," Esma said, throwing up her hands, "but we need to make this quick. Prago's got an army of thugs outside."

The four of them cut a swath through the palace into the main chamber. Sana watched Lord Scourge while they fought, keeping an eye on him as much as on their enemies. The Sith was dangerous. Highly skilled. Utterly ruthless. And there was something about the way he watched her daughter that set off warning claxons in her head. They cleared out guards and anyone else who tried to stop them. The Hutt was nothing without his people, easy prey. The place was in smoking ruins by the time they drove away.

***

"How have you been since you and Doc split?" Sana asked her daughter quietly, trying steadfastly to ignore the silent dark presence sitting at her table. She had invited Esma back to the Thunderclap, and Lord Scourge had come too. Unfortunately.

"Good," Esma said, nodding, "it was the right thing to do."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. I only heard a little while ago." Sana tried to keep her voice matter of fact. The fact that Lord Scourge was still sitting across the table listening was eating at her. She wished he would just leave so she could find out what Esma had wanted to tell her. Actually, him leaving by itself would be a plus.

Esma reached over and grasped her mother's hand. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I know you and Dad didn't like Doc and..."

"Whether we did or didn't, we're there with you. We want you to be happy...." Sana could stand it no longer, "if you'll excuse us for a moment, Lord Scourge." She leaned over to her daughter, "You said there was something you needed to tell us? Why don't we go in the other room where we can be private."

"It's okay," Esma said slowly. She looked from the set of her mother's jaw to Lord Scourge with growing concern on her face. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm with someone new."

"Oh!" Sana said, as her stomach suddenly tied itself in knots, "Is it serious?" Esma nodded. There was something not quite right. Sana couldn't get rid of a feeling of dread in her chest even as she watched her husband hug their daughter.

"When can we meet him?" Aric asked Esma.

Everything suddenly crystalized in Sana's head. The curse word that escaped her was harsh and very loud. Aric stared at her. Staring at Scourge. And then his eyes started to narrow.

"Mom, hold on a second."

"It's him, isn't it." Sana's voice was clipped. She met Scourge's eyes directly and with venom.

"Scourge and I are in love," Esma said firmly.

Sana wrenched her eyes from the still-silent Sith to her daughter. She took a breath or two, stopping the rant that was on the tip of her tongue. "Can I have a word with you?"

"Dad?"

Sana glanced over at her husband who was actually growling and couldn't find it in her to calm him down when she felt like growling herself. And ripping that manipulative Sith's throat out.

"Esma. Now." Esma's eyes grew wide. She looked back at her father who hadn't moved a muscle before she slowly stood up and followed her mother out the door. Sana stopped her right outside, taking a position where she had a clear view of the room.

"What are you..." Esma's voice trailed off, "you want to keep an eye on him." She sounded hurt.

Sana closed her eyes briefly before she looked at her daughter's face. She felt old all of a sudden. Not three hundred years old, she thought, but old nonetheless.

"Of all the people, Esma," she said, "why him?"

Esma met her eyes directly, "I couldn't help it. And he's not so bad. He's really not."

Sana looked past her. She could see her husband say something to Scourge, but she couldn't hear what was being said. Scourge said something back. Aric's hands clenched on the chair arms.

"I'm trying to understand, Esma, I really am. But this makes no sense."

"Mom, do you trust me?"

"I don't trust him," Sana gritted out.

Esma's voice was cool, collected. "I trust him, Mom. Everything in me says he's trustworthy."

"Are you sure you're not being manipulated?" Sana asked, hating the question even as she voiced it.

"I'm not," Esma said, firmly, "my mind is my own."

"I don't like this," Sana said, "but there's clearly nothing I can say that will change your mind." She set her teeth.

"Will you give him a chance?"

"A chance to what? Stab you?"

"Mom!"

"I meant what I said earlier. Your father and I are there with you, no matter what. We want you to be happy."

"He makes me happy."

"You have the worst taste in men."

"That's what Kira keeps tell me," Esma said with a small smile. "If...if we get married, will you come?"

Sana met Scourge's eyes across the room, her gaze steely as it came. "We'll come. Someone needs to watch your back."

As much as I love Scourge, there is no sane parent in the galaxy who would want him with their daughter.

Verana casually walked into the Academy library, her eyes were immediately fixed on the handsome human Sith who’s head was buried in one of the Academy texts. He was one of the more prominent acolytes at the Academy; his name was Svein.

Verana quietly made her way behind a bookshelf, trying to disguise herself as a simple student looking for a tablet for her master. However, she simply looked through a hole in the shelf and admired the Sith.

He’s so dreamy when he reads, she thought as she pretended to browse the shelf.

Something tugged at her to talk to him even though she knew Slave Codes. A slave could never be with a Sith not even her, a Pureblood. In fact the only reason she was allowed in the Academy was because she had guised herself as a Sith student. No one would dare challenge the word of a Pureblood.

Suddenly, a great anger rose within her. Why were these laws acceptable in the Empire? Why was she any less important than one who was Force Sensitive? She was still capable of doing great things and she had proven that time and time again during her service with Darth Baras. She was just as important as any other being in the Empire.

I’m going to talk to him, thought Verana, as she spun on her heel.

Verana turned to find Svein, smiling wide, but his body language spoke of nervousness.

He’s nervous too, she thought.

“Hey”, he said his voice cool and confident,” Um I was wondering if you needed some help. You’ve been here a while.”

Verana stammered nervously,” I have?”

“Well, you have been staring at the same datapad for the last ten minutes”, replied the acolyte laughingly.

“Yeah”, replied Verana sheepishly as she glanced at the datapad that she had forgotten she had.

“I was wondering if you maybe study with me later. Overseer Harkun is having one of his angry streaks and I need to brush up on my history,” asked Svein, the nervousness now evident in his voice.

Verana hadn’t even processed the question before she heard herself excitedly say yes.

“Awesome”, replied Svein almost relieved,” Hey my name is Svein by the way.”

Verana managed a half smile,” Verana.”

“That’s a really pretty name”, said Svein giving her a wink,” I’ll meet you at the academy cantina in a couple hours if that’s cool with you.”

“Cool”, replied Verana excited at the prospect of having dinner with him.

With that, Svein exited the library and Verana stood dreamily, handling the datapad close to her.

For once she didn’t feel she was a slave.

Top set:

Sana (my trooper) - Esma (jk) - Skari (bh)

Bottom set: (they haven't shown up in my stories yet, but they're running around in my head doing stuff)

Vai (sw) - Lara (smug) - Xa (ia)

If you see these guys in game, they'll all have slightly different names since I tend to use similar names so people have an easier time remembering who I am. For stories having names that are too similar would just be mean.

Vesania's appearance is designed to be as colorless as possible. Very pale skin, gray eyes, black hair...the white dress was an unplanned bonus. This is intended to reflect her personality of being a very cold, heartless person who has had all of the "color", which is to say, decency, burned out of her. The stark monochromatic nature of her appearance mirrors her interior loss of humanity.

"What about this one?" Kira asked, pulling yet another robe out of the rack.

"It's brown."

"It would look nice with your skintone."

"And the fabric's scratchy."

Kira frowned, "No it isn't, feel it, good quality stuff."

Esma sighed, "It's just not what I want. I don't want brown robes or that weird white and orange thing with the...stuff on the shoulders you found earlier. I want something like...like...that." She skipped over and grabbed a short leather jacket. She disappeared into the changing room and came out a minute later, tugging the leather into place while she buckled the last straps.

"That's...not bad actually."

"I know, right? And the best part is..." she flipped over Kira's head "...no yards of fabric tangle in my feet!"

"That almost makes sense. Think they have anything like that for me?"

"So this is where you have been wasting time." The two women jumped at the deep voice. Scourge was leaning against the doorframe to the boutique.

"I'm just going to....yeah," Kira said as she slipped past the Sith.

"I decided to go for a new look," Esma said, twisting around to look at herself in the mirror.

"I see."

"What do you think?"

Scourge walked over to her side and leaned down close to her ear, running his hand down her side to rest on her hip. "I approve."

"Master Jedi, there is no reason for your continued presence, but thank you for your escort of the prisoner." Captain Istier gestured to the door, fully expecting Broan to leave. Instead she was surprised to find him walking further into the room and taking a seat against one of the walls.

"Captain," He spoke, his voice even and free of emotion. "I would stay, if only in light of what happened in your previous 'interrogation' of this man when Master Ashari and I were not present." Broan looked at the Captain, his face blank, seemingly ignorant of the affect he was having on the woman.

"Very well, Master Jedi, as you insist," She turned away from Broan, focusing her attention on the man in the centre of the room. She fixed him with a haughty glare and took a deep breath. "Name?"

"Lieutenant Rochester Windthorpe, second in command of the Supreme Deliverance." The Imperial had his hands folded in his lap, calmly meeting Captain Istier's gaze. She sighed at his response and began to pace, with Rochester following her every step.

"What was the purpose of your ship's journey?" Captain Istier kept her hands clasped behind her back, pressing the tips of her fingers into her palm. To his credit, Lt. Windthorpe stayed silent and stared at the closed door. Istier continued to pace, careful to keep her gaze from falling on Broan. "I say again: What was the purpose of your ship's journey?"

Broan sighed and shifted in his chair, going so far as to fold his arms across his chest. Istier had stopped walking now and Broan could tell she was fighting to stay in control of the situation. She flexed and clenched he jaw, staring down at Rochester.

"Aren't the Republic and Empire at war, Captain?" There was a smirk on Rochester's face as he spoke and a twinkle of humour in his eye. It was a strange sight to Broan; he had not expected that Imperials could be anything but serious. Istier had not expected the change either.

"I will ask the questions, you dirty Imp." Istier spat on his face, but Rochester kept smiling, the saliva slowly moving down his cheek. Wearing nothing but a simple t-shirt and shorts, with one arm in a sling, he was no physical match for Captain Istier and her single guard escort. It appeared that Rochester was content to toy with Istier's mind; indeed, it was pleasant change from the beating he had received. Istier stopped pacing and stepped forward, coming to stand just inches from Rochester. She reached out grabbed his injured shoulder, squeezing hard until he grunted in pain. The smile quickly disappeared, replaced with a look of anger and hate.

"Istier..." Broan rose from his seat, keeping his voice level. Istier turned to him, her fingers still digging into the captive flesh.

"Captain Istier, Master Jedi," She released her grip and Rochester sagged forward, reflexively moving to cradle his arm. "Now, Lieutenant," Istier smiled at Broan with such contempt that he flinched. "What was the purpose of your little ship's journey? And do be sure to remember just who is in charge here." She patted Rochester's head, her every word patronizingly sweet. For a moment, she flicked her gaze to Broan and he understood. She would interrogate her prisoner in her own way and he could not defy her.

Broan rolled his shoulders and sat down to think. The guard across the room chuckled to himself and for the tiniest fraction of a second, a moment so fleeting that Broan could not even recall its sensation, he dearly wanted to snap that smug bastard's neck.

"Lieutenant Rochester Windthorpe, second in command of the Supreme Deliverance." Captain Istier slapped him, leaving a red mark on his cheek.

"Not the right answer, Lieutenant, try again."

"Captain Istier, may I speak with you?"

"No, Master Jedi, you may not."

At this, Broan stood up, set his chair neatly against the wall and walked to the guard.

"Get out. Go to your bunk and have a good long nap." The guard looked over Broan's shoulder, his expression blank and pushed himself away from the wall. He left the room, locking the door.

"That was unnecessary."

"I disagree, Captain. It was necessary and justified," Broan clasped his hands behind his back, mirroring Istier's earlier stance. "We both know that these are not the questions that you want to ask."

"I require a guard, Master Jedi." Istier shifted her weight, putting her hands on her hips. She looked Broan in the eyes and he could feel her hot breath wash over him.

"I am here, Captain, and I am more than sufficient," Istier let out a heavy sigh, every inch of her bristling with barely restrained anger. "Shall we continue the interview?"

Istier looked over her shoulder at Rochester and then turned back to Broan. She took several deep breaths to even her breathing. After several long moments, she spoke again.

"No, Master Jedi," Her voice was quiet, yet firm. She frowned at Broan, silently challenging him. "I will not continue in these circumstances?"

"Are we to do this in front of your prisoner?" He kept his voice low, to keep from being overheard. Rochester yawned and regarded the pair with a rather bored expression. He heard, but did not seem to care.

"What does it matter?" Istier shrugged, but her tone was not so dismissive. "I'll see to his demise if it's required."

"You will not harm him, Captain, I will see to that."

"Are you defending this Imperial scum?" Istier took a step forward, almost stepping on Broan's toes. "His Lord killed your Master, don't you remember?"

"All you want is revenge for your ex-husband."

"You really don't understand a thing, do you?" Contempt rang through Istier's words and little bits of her spittle landed on Broan's face. "That's her son!" She flung her arm out behind to point at Rochester and jabbed him in the cheek. "He knows where that murderous witch is. She's wanted by the Republic and your order; don't you want to bring her to justice?" She pressed harder against Rochester's face, digging her nail into his skin.

"Of course, but this," Broan pulled Istier's arm forward, moving to hold her hand in his. "This is not how the Republic and the Jedi Order act. We do not beat prisoners or torment injured men."

"What a naive little boy you are," Istier pushed past him, knocking their shoulders together. "You'll come to your senses soon enough, Master Jedi, and then I can continue my work and you can continue yours. Agreed?" She stood by the door, hand hovering over the lock, looking at him expectantly.

"Do not think that I will allow you or your crew to torture, demean or humiliate any of our Imperial captives."

"I thought as much."