((The RP XP with MJ #12))

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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((The RP XP with MJ #11))

The Zabrak Padawan Force-pushed aside the door and entered the dank back room of the warehouse, his lightsaber beam illuminating the space with a soft blue glow.

A chair sat in the middle of the room, torn bonds around its legs and hanging off the back. The crates and boxes stacked around the room all stared out with the crescent-shaped Czerka logo. There were no signs of anyone else nearby, though Tarik didn’t think to reach out with the Force to take a closer look. Instead, he found himself attracted to small dark speckles on the floor near the chair.

He crouched and reached down, smearing a finger across the spots before raising it to his nose and sniffing. Blood.

Then something heavy landed hard on his back and flattened him against the warehouse floor. His lightsaber extinguished and clattered off between two large boxes.

As suddenly as the weight hit him, it was gone. Tarik heard shuffling footsteps and looked up in time to see an orange blur rush toward his lightsaber. He reached out and Force-pulled it into his hand before getting to his feet.

“Ah! Damn!”

He recognized the woman’s voice immediately, but ignited the lightsaber to see her. “Yulel?”

“Who did you expect, Tar? Man, Kendris really has to work on your training. I can’t believe you didn’t sense me up there.” The Twi’lek nodded to a stack of crates next to the door, on top of which she had been waiting while the bombardment leveled half the quarter outside.

Tarik stretched out a hand toward the room controls and turned on the lights. Then he switched off his lightsaber. “You ok, ‘Lel?” he asked in a soft voice.

The Twi’lek pouted and tilted her head as she saw him in the light. “You’re hurt.” She stepped up to him and gently reached up to touch one of the scarred horns on his head. “Were you caught in the bombardment?”

Tarik swallowed and nodded, unable to speak as his heart thudded painfully to match each bruise and cut on the Twi’lek girl. He reached out slowly and touched her cheek, then managed, “I’m not so bad off, but… but you.”

“Meh,” Yulel smiled. “I pretended to be in pain through most of it. Narcos do wonders for pain blocking.” She turned away and moved to the crates on one side of the room, checking the numbers and manifests attached to each one.

The pain in the young Padawan’s voice was personal. “You’re not still on the Narcos, are you? You promised me you’d get off that poison.”

“Here it is!” Yulel ignored him and crouched before a footlocker-sized box on the floor. “One-one-three-eight.”

“Yulel.”

“Tarik.” She ignored him and produced a small folding tool from her belt. She tapped at the keypad on the box as she waved the tool in front of the box latch.

Tarik watched her for awhile before stepping closer and crouching next to her. Overcome with curiosity, he decided to let the conversation about Yulel’s drug addiction wait for another time. “What are you doing?”

“Picking a lock. What does it look like?”

“Why?”

“Because the stupid bounty hunter and ignorant Chiss who held me here were looking for this. It was under their nose the whole time.”

Tarik glanced back at the chair just two meters away. “Why didn’t you tell them so they’d stop torturing you?”

Yulel stopped and looked at him. “Because it was funny.” She offered a crooked smile before turning her attention back to the box. It opened with a click and a snap.

Tarik reared back a little surprised. “How’d you manage that?”

“I used to be a locksmith for Czerka before I got into spice running.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #10))

     The smoke and dust settled slowly over the street. Fires crackled and hissed, injured people moaned or cried out from the rubble. The Miraluka moved slowly through the debris left by the Imperial attack, looking for signs of the two Jedi. Anywhere she found a civilian or a passerby who was hurt in the attack, she took the time to escort them out of the street and into the safety of an alley where two surviving Republic troopers had set up a triage.

     After finding five survivors and marking two bodies, Misha Vu-don crouched next to a Force aura. Of course she couldn’t see the bruised and soot-stained face of Master Kendris, but she could clearly see the Force emanating from him.

     Kendris blinked up at the woman, then his eyes widened with panic. “What happened? Where’s Tarik?”

     The Miraluka spoke in a voice so calm it was almost lost in the hush of settling ash. “He is well, Kendris. I believe he managed to escape before the bombardment. He seeks your Twi’lek. I am Misha Vu-don of he Nazzri Enclave.”

     Kendris pried himself out of the rubble and dusted himself off after making a cursory check of himself for wounds. A few bruises, a few cuts, but miraculously all right.

     “The Sith are gone,” Misha said, not quite looking at him but sensing his curiosity.

     “Where did that go? Which way?”

     She held up a hand and rested it on his chest. She felt the firmness of his armor below the robes and smiled. “Calm yourself, Kendris. There are other more important questions to answer first.”

     The Jedi Master looked around at the edge of the crater near his feet as he pulled away from her touch and kicked at some rubble as if looking for something.

     “Your Padawan will be back soon with the Twi’lek you were protecting.” She made no attempt to curl the word ‘protecting’ into a sarcastic lilt, but Kendris glanced at her as if he’d heard it nonetheless. He huffed and continued digging.

     Misha sniffed the air and turned her head toward the alley where more people were gathering with their wounds, some weeping and carrying bodies of others. She turned toward Kendris, then back again.

     “We should help the wounded,” Misha said. The siren of an emergency aid speeder grew louder in the distance.

     Kendris continued kicking and plucking at the overturned rubble by his feet, grunting as he pushed heavier pieces of the ruined street aside.

     Misha held out a hand. A piece of rubble three meters away overturned revealing a glint of silver. The lightsaber hilt flew into her hand.

     She held it toward Kendris. “Now that you have this back, perhaps we can help those who need us.”

     Kendris took the weapon without a word. Though Miraluka couldn’t see it, he nodded before moving past her toward the alley.
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((The RP XP with MJ #9))

The bounty hunter looked over at the agent as her fingers danced across the controls of the ship. The engines rumbled to life and the entire ship began to shake as the coiled energy above the landing struts began to take offense to gravity.

“Do it!”
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((The RP XP with MJ #8))

Veetha ran toward the Force pulse she felt from the street, her lightsaber hilt held firmly in her white-skinned hand.

Veetha, not being one for words like her master, screamed and charged at him.

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((The RP XP With MJ #7))

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jenla regained some of her composure and looked on hopefully.

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

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

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

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((The RP XP with MJ #6 – Sex and RP))

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

Jenla narrowed her eyes at him. “Hm?”

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

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

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

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

“I do, but–“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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((The RP XP with MJ #5))

Jedi Master Kendris stood in the cockpit of the Regail and watched the maintenance droids buzz back and forth outside. The smuggler was late and so were the troopers assigned to watch over her.

Kendris felt a stir behind him and slightly raised his chin. Most of his attention was beyond the canopy of the ship, directed to the movements of the two dark Force users in the port city, but he was always mindful of his Padawan. “Tarik?”

“Master,” Tarik began before stopping to clear his throat. He was almost a full head shorter than Kendris but as solidly built as any Zabrak, the tattooed lines on his face merging to divide it into quadrants separating his eyes, mouth and prominent nose. The crown of horns on his head were small, still juvenile, but sharp to match is guile. “Master, I’m worried about Yulel.”

Kendris blinked and continued to stare through the canopy. “Are you?”

“Yes, master. I know you said I should embrace peace even when troubled, that it would help to center me.”

“You recite my teachings well, Tarik, but fail to apply them.” Tarik couldn’t see it, but Kendris was smiling behind his trimmed beard.

The Padawan bowed. “I know, master, and I am sorry. I sense–“

“You sense the dark side,” Kendris nodded forward, “Out there.”

Tarik nodded.

“Patience, Tarik. The Sith are looking for us, not for a Twi’lek spice runner.”

Tarik jumped on his response too quickly and was just as quick to cut himself off. “But Yulel isn’t a spice runner! She’s…not… sir.”

Kendris turned, his hands clasped over his chest. “I’ll discuss your emotional control later, my young Padawan. For now, head back and inform Sarge and Red that we’ll be leaving without our medical supplies for the Nazzri.”

Tarik’s eyes grew wide and he hesitated. Was this a test? If it was, he was sure he was about to fail it, but he couldn’t turn away from Yulel–from anyone in need. “But Master Kendris, she’s in–“

“Trouble. I know.” Kendris turned back to the canopy. He said, “Do as I have instructed. I will take Seven and bring back our friend… I have a surprise for the Sith.”

Tarik smiled slightly, then he quickly brushed it aside as he turned to inform the others as he had been instructed.

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((The RP XP with MJ #4))

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

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

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

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

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

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