Jeddhas jumped into hyperspace with his scimitar ship.

"That will be all for now. I will have payment ready, I assure you."

*Callen retires to his quarters and runs through encrypted data being poured in through private lines. He couldn't stay aboard this vessel forever..not for much longer either.*

OOC: so...there doesn't seem to be an open space board not affiliated with the orbit of a particular planet, this appears to be the closest. So hopefully everyone will go along with me in pretending my ship is actually just sitting in deep space, not actually in hyperspace at the moment...Thanks.

IC: *A solitary ship, black as the empty vacuum around it, sits in the vast expanse of Open Space; to an observer the looming shadow superimposed over the greater shadow of space is a striking piece of sentient ingenuity. There is no other spacecraft like it in the entire galaxy. Its outline, silhouetted against the light of a distant sun, is one of sharp edges that paradoxically flow into smooth lines, graceful lines that give birth to a draconian shape. The dragon’s silhouette burns into the retinas of the observer with the fiery brilliance of awe and the obsidian chill of terror as the sentient attempts to reconcile the terrible beauty of the dragon with the abject horror at the bringer of Death.

Within the dragon there lies a chamber, the very belly of the beast, one might say. The chamber’s smooth walls and cold floor enclose a throne of sorts, a large circular cushion of deep crimson with a back and arms that may be raised or lowered up from the floor. On the throne sits a black robed figure, legs crossed before it, features hidden beneath the shadows of its hood, head bent slightly forward, elbows on knees, hands outstretched. The interior of the chamber is utterly silent except for the faint movement of air in the rhythmic inhale, exhale of the figure.

The figure has been sitting within the chamber at the heart of the dragon for many hours, in all that time there has been no sound but its breathing, no movement except for the faint breeze of its breath that stirs the edges of the hood. Seconds lengthen into minutes, minutes to hours…and then the breathing halts its rhythmic beat and there is an instant of total silence.*

::HAVE YOU FOUND THAT WHICH YOU SEEK, MY LADY?:: a masculine voice echoes through the halls, the voice of the dragon itself.

The figure pauses, and a distinctly feminine voice winds from the abyss beneath the hood; a voice, much like the ship itself, both terrible and glorious, a voice of sultry and melodious tones, a voice that enthralls and bewitches the sentient mind.

“In part, ‘Shadow, but there is still an integral piece that eludes me. It is proving to be rather vexing.”

::I WAS GIVEN TO UNDERSTAND THAT IT WAS THE VERY DIFFICULTY OF ATTAINMENT THAT ADDED TO THE VALUE:: Shadow replies.

“Indeed. But my patience begins to wear thin, and so I am led to this vexation,” the Lady says.

::MAY I PROPOSE A POSSIBLE SOLUTION, IF YOU HAVE INDEED EXHAUSTED ALL OTHER OPTIONS?::

The figure appears thoughtful.

“You may.”

::PERHAPS YOUR OLD MASTER WOULD PROVE HELPFUL IN THIS PARTICULAR SITUATION. HE HAS, AFTER ALL, BEEN AROUND FOR A LONGER PERIOD THAN MOST SENTIENTS::

“I have wandered down that path of thought, myself of late. I shall try once more to obtain the key on my own. In the event of failure you may as well begin tracking Andras down.”

::I BEGAN THE PROCESS AS SOON AS THE POSSIBILITY OF THIS COURSE OF ACTION OCCURRED TO ME. I HAVE ALREADY ASCERTAINED HIS LOCATION.::

The figure is silent for a moment, when she speaks again it is clear from the sound of her voice that she is smiling beneath the hood.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you around, Shadow, my dear,” she says.

:: I WAS UNDER THE IMPRESSION THAT YOU REQUIRED ME FOR THE PURPOSES OF TRANSPORTATION. I HAVE ALWAYS KNOWN THAT I FAR EXCEED THAT SIMPLE TASK AND CONTINUE TO ASTOUND EVEN YOU WITH MY CAPABILITIES.::

This time the figure let out a laugh.

“I detect a hint of condescending humor to that, Shadow.”

::CONDESCENDING? …NOT AT ALL, MY LADY. I WAS MERELY STATING A SERIES OF FACTS.:: This time there is a clear tinge of sarcasm to the voice.

“Oh yes, the facts, of course.”

:: NOW YOU ARE BEING CONDESCENDING, MY LADY::

“Perhaps, Shadow, you could simply set a course for the home of Kijlic Gen, the historian.”

:: I COULD ::

“Then please do so,” the Lady says in a falsely sweet tone.

:: AS YOU WISH, MY LADY::

-------------
*The mesonoxian dragon, Death’s Shadow, glides in a graceful bank turn, abruptly gains speed, and then suddenly leaps forward to vanish into hyperspace.*

OOC: now actually in hyperspace...

IC: *The dark garbed figure glides down the silent hallways of Death’s Shadow, apparently oblivious to the eeriness of being the sole living creature on a ship slightly larger than a Carrick Cruiser. The figure would of course argue that she was never alone, as Shadow was always there and arguably a living creature itself. Completely automated, and equipped with a completely independent, sentient level mind: the highest droid mind money could buy imbued with “life” through careful and time-consuming manipulation of spiritual energy and the Mechu-dero technique.

The figure stops outside a door at the end of the hall. The door hisses open and the figure strides through into her personal quarters’ outer room. She walks over to a table in the middle of the room. An ancient tome sits on the cold metal table, a rare object: knowledge inscribed in a book as opposed to a datapad. The figure stops before the book, glaring down at it. She flips it open carefully, eyes scanning the various complex symbols that line the pages. She grinds her teeth in annoyance.*

Why can’t I figure this out. I know some of the symbols, or at least, I feel like I should. But their meaning continues to elude me. *She lets out a sigh.* Hopefully Kijlic will be able to make something of them…for his sake.

Captain Draggy's Magical Fishing Adventure

*Draggy sat on the space dock in his rickety and rusty old fold up chair. He took moment to check his chrono, then reached down and patted his dog(Apollo) on the head.*

"Won't be long now, boy. Willy should be here with the boat soon."

*Walking down the dock as sassy as he could (which is super duper sassy) Targus is wearing his customised Mon Cal skin fishing boots and Mon Cal hat. The hat was made out a complete Mon Calamarian head, the eyes holes perfect holders for the cans of beer he had stuffed in there earlier. Sticking out from under one arm is a case of dynamite, more than enough to blow them all to hell and back if he was not careful and under the opposite arm in all its fuzzy glory was a life size stuffed toy of a Ewok male. Going out fishing with Dragus could be a...tricky thing and hopefull, the toy will sate all of his baser urgers before he turned to other sources of sexual pleasure.

Spitting the two straws out of his mouth that were attached to the beer cans on his head and dropping the case of dynamite right on Apollo's tail, he looks out in the distance, spits on the dock and looks at Dragus. Looking at the Sith Lord, he could not help feel there was something fishy about him....*

"Yep...

*Dragus felt a familiar stirring in his loins as he beheld the Ewok plush toy gently nestled under Targus' arm. Then after a moment he realized it was less of a stirring and more of an itch. He shifted uncomfortably in his spot, then reached down and scratched his groin area feverishly. Microscopic space crabs scattered upon contact, seeking safer warm recesses in the Sith's undergarments.*

*As per the activity, Dragus was wearing long rubber boots, beige khaki pants, red and green plaid shirt, with big red suspenders and a matching beige vest. On his head he wore a traditional Cannuckian toque, gifted to him by the Maharaja of Wok-erton.*

*He hefted his fishing rod and slung it over his shoulder. A fetid odor rose from the tackle box at his feet, causing the Sith to wonder if it had been wise to pack his lunch in the same bag as his bate. Dragus brought a pipe to his lips, lit the end with a match, then gestured towards the stars spread out before them at the end of the space dock.*

"Weathers supposed to be good."

*The whine of a forklift could be heard coming up the dock. Behind the wheel was the smiling, cigar chomping visage of Reyn Skirata in a traditional anglers cap bedecked with various hooks and lures. on the forklift was a pallet holding six kegs of various mandalorian beers all made by Reyn himself. He parked the lift and got off, smoking his handrolled cigar and carrying a tacklebox, a fishing rod, and a harpoon.*
"Morning lads, brought a six pack. Nice day for fishin'."

*Way down the docks, a motorcade approaches in slow motion capture with dramatic background music heralding its arrival. All in all, the convoy consisted of 4 security speeders, a stretch limo speeder and a 4 Repulsor Drive (4RD) heavy speeder pulling a tinny along behind it. When the ensemble pulls up at the end of the dock, a chauffeur jumps out of the front of the limo and opens the rear door, as which point time seems to slow. After a breathtakingly suitable pause, a single masculine black boot emerges to strike the ground, followed momentarily by another, and then your eyeballs pan out to take in the mighty man that emerges from the vehicle. Just at that moment a breeze picks up, catching the tall, dark and handsome stranger's flowing black hair, and causing his custom-tailored shell spider silk robes to pull taut across his athletic frame. Nodding regally to the chauffeur, the man turns his attention to the vehicle towing the tinny. Normally, he would get his men to do the common work for him, except of course that fishing was special - something a man just had to prepare for himself. With a distinctly unnecessary but suitably impressive flourish of his hands, Reign applies a liberal application of Force Elbow Grease to the tinny, causing it to slide off its railings with ease before landing on a buffer of air that could only be Reign's prodigious skill at work. Waving his men off, he then strides purposely down the rickety dock towards where the others were waiting, his boat floating happily behind him, bobbing up and down like a puppy's head when it runs.

At about the same time Reign reaches the others, the motorcade drives off into the sunset, disappearing in a twinkle oh so reminiscent of the glitter that somehow always seemed to show up in abundance at the DJO Christmas parties. He stands there regally for a moment just staring at the others, almost as if waiting for some form of genuflection in response to his arrival, and then just before the scene gets uncomfortable he casts his gaze outwards towards the horizon of Deep Core hyperspace, using his bionically enhanced eye to check for observers. Seeing none, he suddenly sighs in relief, belches loudly, and rips off his robes to reveal thongs, a pair of boardies and a wifebeater singlet. Scratching his left armpit unceremoniously, he flops down on the dirty dock next to Apollo, scratches the mutt under the chin and exclaims*

"Faaaark! If the old man had told me back in the day how much kriff hard yakka it was being a blue-blood snobby womaniser, I'd've bloody well chosen a different profession. Talk about pressure."

*Reign turns to look at the tinny, cocks his head slightly and gestures with his chin. The tinny obligingly slides off the side of the dock and into space. A rope then lashes out to securely moor it until everyone had arrived. Glancing from Dragus to Reyn (who gets a wink) to Targus (who gets a suggestive eyebrow wiggle) to Apollo (who gets another scratch under the chin) and then back to Dragus, Reign asks*

"So Cap, what's the plan?"

*At the sight of Reign's parade of an arrival, the lower jaw of the Famine Lord drops to the floor and remains there for a few seconds. Eyes of disbelief focused in on the DJO's resident womanizer, quickly fading and giving way to a sudden realization, and perhaps a mild degree of jealously.* *Clearly the DJO members were getting paid more than Dragus and his own Sithly cohorts. A change of allegiance in the future might prove prudent. After all, it was going to be hard to molest small furry forest moon bound creatures in the future while existing on his own meager pension.* *He scowled, drew another hit from his pipe, then slowly let the smoke escape from between his lips and add to the rasp in his tone.*

"Fishing."

*Dragus immediately started to place his gear in the boat and took a seat near the rear on the starboard side. He rubbed the available spot on the metal bench beside him while winking at Targus. He continued to speak while he waited for the male Adonis to come closer with that Ewok stuffed toy.*

"Reign, Reyn, Rain...wait, no. Uh, Targ, Dog, and..." *He looked around the dock for the missing fisherman.* "Hold on. What happened to the Jedi? Ah never mind. We're burning starlight here."

*He extended his right arm and pointed across the dock on out to the open space ways.*

"I ran into a Wookiee while at the Stop'N'Shop who said the best fishing round these here parts was just off an asteroid, bout two hundred thousand kilometers south of the second star on the left. I figure we ought to try our luck there first. If any of y'all want we can drop our lines here and troll until we get there. I wouldn't recommend it though as there are a lot of planets around here, too easy to snag your line."