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An Old Post [Remus]

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  • An Old Post [Remus]

    Iziz wasn't what she expected and as Verica stood in the large building afforded to the Imperial ambassador and his staff, the lieutenant gazed out over the perimeter wall and into a large plaza. People in unique clothing milled about vendor stalls as speeder bikes and droids headed toward some unknown destination. Sunlight warmed her normally pale skin as the uniformed officer half listened to the conversations going on behind her.

    "The premier is holding a banquet tonight," the older ambassador informed. "Will the admiral attend?"

    Sighing quietly, she half turned towards him, "He's planning on it, yes."

    "Good," a shuffle of flimsiplast pages on the large, ornate desk as the well dressed dignitary sat down. "I'll have an itinerary prepared by my secretary, be sure to get that before you leave."

    Olive eyes continued scanning the crowd, some glancing her way and no doubt noticing the occasional Imperial army trooper patrolling on the rooftop. "How long until we can get those supplies for the Balmorra?"

    "Lieutenant, I'm still working on that," he replied impatiently. "These locals aren't as in a big of a hurry when it comes to taking care of us. Unfortunately."

    She grinned wryly, "So, they love our money, but don't actually want to do anything for it. Interesting."

    "This is a very old, and very proud world. They do things in their own time."
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  • #2
    The midday buzz of Iziz was pleasant and calm. The day was quiet, warm, and the city was a hive at work. From droid-makers to noblemen, Ov Taraba students to spice merchants, all made the city what it was on this gentle day. Remus could feel the city's pulse, its heart its people, as he set his A-wing Dual down into an open-top hanger bay. Servicemen were at the ready to bombard him with questions about his longterm plans for his little fighter, and if he was interested in a servicing plan for the next five years. He didn't need to shoo them away, as they became immediately hesitant the moment they saw Cailín, the Jedi's wyrwulf companion, slink out of the ship after her master. Remus couldn't help but grin as he proceeded out into the Iziz customs office; tedious formalities.

    The room was wide and sterile, as many official locations were, and the grim faces of the customs officers were matched in intensity only by their devotion to their jobs. Remus gave a sigh, and Cailín a whine, as the two adhered to the demands of separated processing. The Jedi Apprentice noted silently how stricter the Iziz customs management had gotten since he last came here. That brought back black memories he'd rather not have again; a Dark Jedi filled with a blind rage as a violent Sith Warrior tormented him with little motive and far too much Dark Side energy welled up inside of him. What a fool he had been. It was his turn to enter the scanner. He felt the lasers warm against his face, and heard the beeping of the officers' console. Something was wrong here. After a few moments of muttering, one of the officers approached him, baton in hand.
    "Joseph Ferran, please come with me."

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    • #3
      Nodding, she knew that the local representative for their refuel and resupply would get his act together if a squad of stormtroopers had to come down here and confiscate his business for the day. The sight of those soldiers in white armor usually got things done and the Imperial machine didn't have time to mess around with lazy locals.

      As she mused, still taking in the scene out in the marketplace, a buzz at the ambassador's desk prompted an excited conversation, then he hung up. "Seems like an outlaw has decided to show up at the wrong time," he relayed as Verica turned to eye him. "Joseph Ferran. The name mean anything to you?"

      She thought long and hard about that one, then shook her head. "No."

      "Seems you'll be here a bit longer then. I'll work on getting your supplies and fuel expedited if you wished to travel to the detention area. They're taking him in now."

      Nodding, she moved towards the door, "Let me know as soon as we can bring the Balmorra in."

      "Will do."
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      • #4
        "Where are you taking my wyrwulf?" That was the first thing expelled from his mouth as two beefy, lightly armoured Imperial officers escorted him into an opposite direction from Cailiín, into a small room with dense lighting, plain layout and naught but a table and some chairs on one side, with just one on the other upon which he was forced to sit. He could feel Cailín's worry, and they both realised it was the first time they had been separated in a long while. He channeled a calm energy to her through their bond, breathing meditative feeling to her, which in turn reflected to him. 'It will be alright', he told her gently. 'We have survived worse'. Though she would not understand the words, she would the intent and the feeling behind them. To the Imperials, he would simply seem to be calming himself, unaware of his bond with the wyrwulf. With luck, they would not know of his connection to the Force, but as they knew his name and, he assumed, had word of his past misdeeds, he was curious just how much they did know about him.

        ((OOC: Sorry it's super later!))

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        • #5
          Entering the security station of the detention area, she appreciated the cooperation that seemed to work here between the Imperial army and the local constabulary. Men in both uniforms took care of their respective parts of the prison and she moved to the officer in charge. "I heard we have an outlaw in our custody."

          Turning to the navy lieutenant, he straightened apparently surprised to be approached by a female. "Yes, ma'am." He handed her a flimsiplast page which seemed to go on and on. "Quite the rap sheet on this one."

          Scanning the long list of crimes attributed to this one man, she couldn't believe her eyes. Shaking her head, she looked up, "Where is he now?"

          Pointing to the opposite side of the large, rectangular room, "In Fifteen."

          "Alright," she nodded, keeping the copy of the list of crimes in her hand as she walked across the polished, white floor and to the door which a guard then unlocked and opened for her. Strolling inside, olive eyes took in the sharp features of the outlaw, his narrow gaze and well groomed goatee. She had learned a long time ago that you couldn't judge someone by their face and compare that to the story behind it. This was one of those. Slowing once she reached the open chair across from him, she motioned with the flimsiplast sheet, raising it. "You've been busy."
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          • #6
            Remus was silent as the young woman sitting in front of him sifted through the long list of his past felonies with that typical cold aloofness that is so often seen among Imperials. He had no excuse away for any of them, nor had he the wish to deny them. He was changed, however, and had become distanced by the past that he had pushed aside. Yet, he knew this would not absolve his misdeeds. Nothing, he well knew, could absolve them.

            Yet in these moments he did not care for this Imperial's view on him, nor of the Empire's allegations towards him. Right now, in this very moment, the only thing he had concern for was Cailín, for she was taken from him upon his arrest. He could feel her presence, it was true, but all he could feel was panic and distress. He had done his best to project feelings of calm towards her through the Force, but it was not enough, and her stress caused stress for him, and his stress made him uneasy, agitated, angry.

            "Where is my wyrwulf?" He spoke stern and with authority, denying his surroundings and the dominance it tried to impose upon him. He would not bend, he would not break, not for these people.

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