((The RP XP with MJ #32))

Jenla Ruf sat outside the Boarsch home and brooded under the hood of her cloak at the yellow rain coming down and splashing in the rust muddied puddles all over the village on Hutta. Inside, her Mandalorian lover worried over his sister’s existence.

“Why bother with these slugs?” the Imperial agent scowled as she wiped the slimy rain from the comlink on her arm, contemplating her next move. “Sister or not… this is a waste of our time.”

It had been weeks since they escaped the Sith surprise attack against the Jedi on Uradis. They’ve been in hiding long enough, but now there’s this, this “personal” wrinkle. Inside, Jenla heard the hushed voices of Margis and Boarsch. He was promising his dying sister assistance, no matter what.

A cold shiver rose in Jenla’s spine. She knew what that meant. Though Boarsch had joked about it at times in the past, this time she felt uneasy. Margis was dying and their options were limited. The agent turned and moved to the doorway. She pressed her ear to the grimy metal.

“I’ll reach out to the Republic,” she heard Boarsch say.

And that was the moment Jenla Ruf realized the mistake she made, a mistake she vowed to correct.

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((The RP XP with MJ #31))

The Zabrak Padawan made his way through a back alley of Coruscant’s Old Galactic Market with the body of his shrouded master cradled in his arms. Tarik glanced over his shoulder at the Rattataki woman behind him, barely registering her on-guard posture and the long lightsaber hilt held in her hands.

“We’re in your neck of the woods, Tarik,” Veetha sneered. “Why all the shadowy back alleys? Tryin’ to make me feel at home?”

“Because you’re Sith, for one. Because I don’t want to attract the attention of Coruscant Security for another.”

Veetha reached out and gently tapped his shoulder. “Aww, that’s sweet. The lil’ Jedi cares about me.”

“Not for a second. I just don’t want to… have….” Tarik stopped before they got to the cross-street and his arms began to tremble. He lowered himself to his knees, his expression blank, his mouth hanging open as Veetha stepped up next to him and crouched to his level.

“What’s wrong, kid?” She touched his arm and shook it gently, but Tarik continued staring into nothingness. Suddenly nervous that she was going to be swarmed by Jedi who sensed her presence, Veetha stood and turned, holding up her hilt to defend herself.

“Yulie,” Tarik whispered.

Veetha spun.“What?”

Leaving his master’s body in the alley, Tarik stood and suddenly turned the way they had come.

“Tarik? Where the hell are you going? What about your master’s carcass?”

Ignoring her, the Padawan picked up his pace. He didn’t look back as he called out,“She needs me!”

Veetha watched him hurry back down the alley, her eyes wide. The Padawan didn’t answer. She figured this Yulel was probably another Jedi – they were always running to each other’s aid, weren’t they? There were two reasons she felt compelled to join him. First, she felt something for him. His determination surrounded by a boyish innocence was somehow …entertaining.

Second, she was a Sith’s apprentice… alone on Coruscant.

Veetha broke into a run to catch up with Tarik.

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((The RP XP with MJ #30 – Q&A #3))

Since this is a Q&A article (if you’re new here, I do this every 10^th issue) and I have a personal story of my own, we’re going to leave Tarik, Yulel and the “MJ Fiction Players” alone this week and concentrate on your questions, especially since one of the questions involves the fiction that kicks off the column each week.

My story involves the near destruction of this column and my life in SWTOR. Ok, my wife would roll her eyes and call that the exaggeration that it is, but as a writer/producer/RPer I tend to lean toward the dramatic. The short form is this: This particular article may seem a bit like it was hastily thrown together. That’s because it was. In fact, if this wasn’t a Q&A week, there probably wouldn’t be an RP XP today.

For those of you who don’t follow me on Twitter, you missed the dramatic story about my dead video card and loss of a couple day’s work on my pending novel and various editing projects – not to mention the loss of valuable MMO time. The short end is… I found a nice card (and highly recommend the GeForce GTX 550 Ti for anyone on a modest budget and, like me, don’t have what I’d call a “gaming rig”). The card is more than a match for Star Wars: The Old Republic as well as graphics grinders like Skyrim. If you’re shopping for a card, check it out. My old one, in case you’re curious, was a GTS 240 and came stock with my Dell Studio XPS, which is a great machine for creative types who aren’t run-gun-slash-kill gamers. There are gaming machines specifically for that.

RolePlayers don’t really need that kind of power though, do we?

Now enough about me. Let’s talk about you. On to your questions.

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((The RP XP with MJ #29))

Darth Tagious stood over the corpses of six Republic soldiers and sneered through a rasping exhale. A jutting steam pipe nearby added to his hiss, the sound echoing off the rusty tubular chambers of the Works deep within Coruscant.

He angled his head up, his piercing red-tinted eyes glaring miles through the heavy structures as if he could see his apprentice with the human Padawan they had left to die.

“So, Veetha… you mean to betray me to the Jedi,” Tagious breathed. “Let them come.”

Of course it didn’t really come as a surprise to the Sith Lord that his Rattataki apprentice would turn on him; it was every good apprentice’s challenge to eventually try. But the ebb of Force energy off the girl was different, clouded, masked in some way.

Tagious left Veetha with Tarik for a reason. He wanted to be done with her. He wanted to use her to lead him to the Jen’Hutis.

His sneer became a shallow laugh, then a roar of victory. Who better to lead him than the illegitimate daughter of a Jedi Knight?

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((The RP XP with MJ #28))

Yulel came awake after a short dream about floating on a cloud. It was then she realized she’d been moved, chair and all. She was still on Mannett Point but in a different room of the separatist base. A gruff-sounding man shouted, “And you…. You can untie her once we leave.”

A weak female voice responded, “Yes, master.”

Master?

The smuggler forced herself to remain calm. She held her breath and listened as the man left the room. Once he was gone, Yulel flinched at the sudden touch of gentle fingers around her head as the female who spoke removed her blindfold.

When she felt the cloth float away, Yulel gradually opened her eyes to a squint. The separatists had moved her to a small dark room made of bars with an electromagnetic lock. The cell was in a larger room filled with crates and supply canisters all marked for orbital transport.

Joining her in the room were several female Twi’leks, all of them bruised and dressed in tatters of former street clothes or uniforms, all huddled together in a corner. The one who removed Yulel’s blindfold and was now working on the knot at her ankles was dressed as a dancing girl. “Wait,” she said. The girl stopped working on the bonds and looked up at her. The young Twi’lek’s skin was the color of a clear winter sky, her eyes a brilliant green that should have been filled with the wonder of youth. Instead they looked dull and sullen.

Yulel spoke softly with a slight tremble in her throat. “W-What are they doing with us?”

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((The RP XP with MJ #27))

“How much further?” Jenla sneered as she stepped over a clump of something that could have been random Huttmuck or chemlizard scat.

Neither the Mandalorian nor his sister turned back, so Jenla trudged on in silence and tried to keep up.

Margis whispered to her brother, “Your mate is somethin’ of a complainer. I woulda thought the Empire raised less squeamish lieutenants.”

Boarsch raised his chin and squinted past his sister. “She’s a good officer, Margis. She’s smart and dedicated. Leave her alone already.”

Margis shrugged and gave up on the taunting. The Chiss Imp wasn’t really worth her time. Besides, they had reached the edge of the reservoir. “Here’s what I wanted you to see, Boar.”

Boarsch and Jenla stood on either of Margis and looked out at the stagnant rust-colored lake.

“What are we looking at?” The agent asked.

Margis looked up at her brother. “This is my village’s water supply.”

As Jenla wrinkled her nose in disgust, Boarsch said, “You drink this?”

Margis nodded solemnly. “Almost as-is. The water purifiers gave out some time ago.”

Jenla said, “You could die drinking this slime.” That’s when Margis finally turned to acknowledge her.

A tear formed in the hardened Hutta woman’s eye. “The doctor in our village says I have about two months to live.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #26))

The Padawan Tarik strained himself to the point of a splitting headache, reaching out with the Force to see if the young Rattataki woman next to him was true to her word.

Is there such a thing as atonement or regret among the Sith, or was this a ploy?

“You can turn off the sensor beam into my soul, Zabrak. By now you know I’m telling you the truth. Don’t overdo it.”

Tarik glanced over his shoulder at the covered body of his master as the speeder made a sharp turn. Then he looked at Veetha.

“Don’t talk to me, Sith. I’ll do the talking.”

A smile curled over Veetha’s black lips. After a moment of silence, she said, “That’ll make it hard for me to answer questions, you know.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “You could’ve killed me and you didn’t. Why?”

“A good question that I already answered. Try another.”

“Try answering it again — and make sense of it this time!”

Veetha smiled at him. “The reason I am accompanying you on the return of your master’s corpse is because I wish to help the Republic.”

Tarik huffed. “Help the Republic? Why?”

“I have my reasons.”

He glanced at her as the speeder slowed its descent toward a secret Jedi enclave on Coruscant. “You said you’d answer my questions.”

“That was an answer, Tarik.”

Tarik gasped. “How did you know my name? I never told you.”

Veetha smiled. “Now that, my friend, is a good question.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #25))

Yulel slowly lifted her head and tried to open her eyes, but something was wrapped tightly around her eyes and pinching her lekku to the back of her head. A blindfold.

She didn’t remember much beyond running and gunning. That damn Gand pilot had dropped her right in the middle of a separatist hot zone and she paid the price…

By running into a tree when she was firing back over her shoulder.

Well, at least they didn’t kill me, the young Twi’lek smuggler smirked to herself.

Her eyes useless, she tried her other senses. She heard the low hum of a generator behind her, the high-pitched whine of a repulsorlift on a speeder hovering just outside the room where she was held. The echo of the speeder through the wall gave her the impression that she was inside a garage of some sort, possibly a side office.

The air smelled of sea spray and engine oil with a slight tang of electrical ozone from separatist forcefields. “Mannett Point,” she smirked again. “Figures.”

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((The RP XP with MJ #24))

The Zabrak Padawan lay cradling his dead master as the two Sith approached, their crimson blades vibrating the air as he looked helplessly up at them.

Tarik knew this was it. He had always wondered how his end would come and actually hoped it would be in combat against Sith side-by-side with his master. Of course Tarik never saw the Sith slowly stalking him after slaying his master from a distance in any of his wishful visions, not giving either of them a chance to defend themselves.

“Get it over with!” He yelled at them, his eyes welling with tears though he tried to suppress his emotions.

Most of them.

The Rattataki girl spoke first after giving her saber a threatening twirl. “He seems angry, my lord. Perhaps we can turn him.”

Darth Tagious never took his yellow eyes off the Padawan. He merely said, “He’s yours, Veetha. Play with him awhile. I will meet you at the Works.”

“Of course, my master,” Veetha’s smile was as sly as a vine cat’s.

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((The RP XP with MJ #23))

“I still don’t feel right about it, master. She’s young and impressionable,” the Zabrak Padawan muttered as he joined his master at the bottom of the ship’s boarding ramp.

“You’ll get over it, Tarik. You’ll have to.” Master Kendris scratched the thatch of gray beard on his chin and surveyed Coruscant’s surroundings with a suspicious eye. “I know your feelings toward the smuggler. And you know the reason why such relations are forbidden by the Order.”

Anxious to get away from the losing argument of Yulel’s innocence and continuous attempts to hide his feelings for her, Tarik said, “Are you certain this is a safe place to be? I mean… Don’t you think the Jen’Hutis would be safer on Tython?”

His master’s response was unexpected considering their history. “Well… I think you’re actually right about that, Tarik.”

That’s when the young Zabrak noticed the private docking bay was even more private than it was moments ago. The refueling technicians, the mechanics, even the droids had vanished. “I have a bad feeling about this, master.”

Kendris nodded and ignited his lightsabers.

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