"Conflict at the Carnival"

Log Date:
	9/15, 9/17, 9/20, 9/22, 9/30/99

Log Cast:
	Mendonsa, Jairen, Kendell, Troy, Shenner, Kaley, Phelan, Morganna,
JimClevall, Donald, Zemdar, Marashi, Tarrin, Christopherus, Webb, Donivan,
Casey, ring toss game attendant (NPC emitted by Shenner), Ronnie, 
holocoaster protesters (NPCs emitted by Shenner), Jairen's assailants (NPCs
emitted by Shenner), Wil (NPC emitted by Shenner), Tegger (NPC emitted by
Shenner), Kinth (NPC emitted by Shenner)

Log Intro:
	The Powers that Be on Caspar in general and Plaxton City in 
particular, now that the city is getting its feet back under it in the wake
of Imperial invasion, have decided to throw a carnival. This is much to the
delight of Shenner, who has gamely returned to her studies at the University
of Caspar--but who has been very conscious of how even her school has taken
a blow from this war, having lost many teachers and students with the razing
of the campus during the invasion. Determined to have some fun, Shen is 
delighted to be joined by her two favorite people on Caspar--her 
sword-teacher Jairen and her boyfriend Jonathan Webb, who get to see her in
a rare high mood for fun. But none of them realize that there have been 
other survivors of the war who have nursed a grudge against Jairen for many
months now, and who are determined to use the cover of the carnival to try
to get their revenge....

----------
You walk into Fountain Square.
Fountain Square - Plaxton City
        The huge buildings in the background threaten to take over this small 
  patch of green that is the center of Plaxton City. A stone fountain -still 
  in place from another time- sits in the center of the square. It depicts a 
  young woman looking into the sky. Water flares around her and bursts into a 
  star pattern ten feet above her head. The inscription at the base of the 
  fountain is written in the aging language of a more romantic time. 
  'Farewell, for all journeyers that leave this place shall always return to 
  call it home.'
        Newly planted, lush trees now dominate the square, shading the area 
  from the dusk sky above is cloudy with patches of clear spots allowing you 
  to see the sky behind them. Deep rich reds, oranges and browns fill the 
  branches, seemingly setting the trees afire with color. Patches of well 
  maintained grass surround the base of the trees, allowing space for visitors 
  to relax or picnic. The central, most famous area of Plaxton City, seems to 
  become more and more park-like with the frequent additions and maintnence. A 
  pair of Marines quietly watch over the area.
               -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Virtual Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> Galactic Lotto Machine 
=> Vendor's Stand 
                 -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> JimClevall
=> Kendell
=> Jairen
=> IGNews Terminal - Caspar
                  -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=-
 <SA>ndbar leads to The Sandbar.
 <S>outh leads to South Mergansar Ave. - Plaxton City.
 <E>ast leads to East Blake St. - Plaxton City.
 <N>orth leads to North Mergansar Ave. - Plaxton City.
 <W>est leads to West Blake St. - Plaxton City.

Mendonsa enters the square from the south.
Mendonsa has arrived.

Jairen watches Jim's and Kendall's progress from his spot near a bench for a 
  moment, but does little else.

Kendell enters the Sandbar.
Kendell has left.

Troy enters the square from the west.
Troy has arrived.

Mendonsa heads down West Blake St.
Mendonsa has left.

Troy heads down West Blake St.
Troy has left.
Troy enters the square from the west.
Troy has arrived.
Troy heads down West Blake St.
Troy has left.

Tall and slim and young and redhaired... isn't there a song that goes like 
  that? Well, something like that, anyway. Shenneret Veery, moving with lifted 
  chin and squared shoulders, strides into the Square. The singer's making 
  good time, but for once she's not headed for the Sandbar. A night off, 
  perhaps? Her blaster rides in its holster at her thigh, her leather satchel 
  on its strap slung off her shoulder.

Kaley enters the square from the west.
Kaley has arrived.

Phelan enters the square from the west.
Phelan has arrived.

Jairen's eyes continue to scan the area until they come to rest upon said 
  redhead. Smiling to himself, he takes a few quiet steps back and disappears 
  into the evening crowd, slowly making his way towards her from behind.

Morganna enters the square from the south.
Morganna has arrived.

Kaley is headed west out of the square area. But since the rain has stopped she 
  is taking her time.

Still looking upward, and almost completely oblivious to his surroundings Jim 
  continues to admire the strangeness of the city's buildings looming over the 
  trees surrounding the park-like area.

It is not particularly unusual that, even though she's not headed for the 
  Sandbar, the lead singer of the Womprats is making music. At the moment, 
  that happens to be whistling -- something of a slightly odd-sounding key for 
  ears accustomed to local musical standards in this section of the galaxy. 
  Half her attention's on her chosen course veering towards the west, but the 
  rest is on that melody; she keeps starting and stopping, perhaps trying to 
  work it out as she goes.

Phelan walks to the south.
Phelan has left.

The scarred woman moves into the square from the south with a mildly aused 
  smile upon her face, something has tickled Morganna but although her 
  expression might look friendly, there's something about Morganna that is 
  decidedly not. The usual vibroblade is strapped to Morganna's side and the 
  scuffed hilt catches the light. The blue eye flashes as Morganna's intense 
  gaze sweeps the crowd, a chill following her eyes. Morganna's gaze stops 
  dead on Kaley and she begins to drift across the square with her usual 
  predatory gait to intercept her prey.

Donald enters the square from the west.
Donald has arrived.

Jairen continues to approach the whistling young woman from behind. Finally, 
  he matches her stride directly behind her, but still moves slightly. A few 
  steps of this he finally speaks out in his typical and quite distinct melodic 
  accented voice, "You have yet to get the eighth tones it seems, but that is 
  to be expected..."

Kaley heads down West Blake St.
Kaley has left.

Morganna heads down West Blake St.
Morganna has left.

JimClevall's attention draws downward, yet still distracted by thought, his 
  pace quickens slightly, but with no particular direction.

Zemdar enters the square from the south.
Zemdar has arrived.
Zemdar heads down West Blake St.
Zemdar has left.
Zemdar enters the square from the west.
Zemdar has arrived.
Zemdar walks down East Blake St.
Zemdar has left.

The swordsman's voice slides in rather astoundingly well on top of the 
  whistled tones, which abruptly cease the moment he speaks -- for Shen hadn't 
  heard his silent footfalls as he crept up behind her. She manages not to 
  jump... much. Instead, she tosses a swift glance of startled surprise over 
  her shoulder at Jairen and follows that with a big lopsided smile. "Vendui', 
  Ilharn," the young musician then greets, distinctly pleased.

Jairen smiles slightly as Shenner turns around. "Vendui'. Your accent is 
  getting better as well." rests both hands on his sword hilt as is his 
  custom. "Have you been well of late?'

Zemdar walks into the square from the east.
Zemdar has arrived.
Zemdar leaves the square to the north.
Zemdar has left.

Marashi enters the square from the north.
Marashi has arrived.
Marashi leaves the square to the north.
Marashi has left.

Zemdar enters the square from the north.
Zemdar has arrived.

JimClevall leaves the square to the north.
JimClevall has left.

Tarrin enters the square from the south.
Tarrin has arrived.

Christopherus enters the square from the south.
Christopherus has arrived.
Christopherus comes walking casually from the south looking around the area 
  observantly

Tarrin heads down West Blake St.
Tarrin has left.
Tarrin enters the square from the west.
Tarrin has arrived.

Zemdar leaves the square to the north.
Zemdar has left.

Mendonsa enters the square from the west.
Mendonsa has arrived.
Mendonsa walks to the south.
Mendonsa has left.

Zemdar enters the square from the north.
Zemdar has arrived.

Marashi enters the square from the north.
Marashi has arrived.

Zemdar walks down East Blake St.
Zemdar has left.

Marashi walks down East Blake St.
Marashi has left.

Better matching her pace to Jairen's for all that she's also slowing it a bit 
  to better allow conversation, Shenner grins. "Yeah, well... I've been 
  workin' on it. Fall term just kicked in again now that the U's officially 
  open -- I'm a freshman all over again. Rah."

Christopherus leaves the square to the north.
Christopherus has left.

Tarrin walks slowly up into the square and makes his way to the fountian.

Jairen cocks his head slightly as he walks along with his young friend. 
  "Fresh-man?"

Donald walks to the south.
Donald has left.

"Wha--oh. Oh." Reminded every so often that Jairen still is not necessarily 
  versed with certain unusual terms in Basic, Shenner grins ruefully and 
  clarifies, "A freshman's a first-year student at a college... and on some 
  worlds, in second-level education too. High schools. I actually started 
  freshman year last winter term, but well, y'know, having the university 
  blown up kinda put a damper on that."

Jairen ahs slightly as he continues to walk. "I understand. A fresh man, fresh 
  meaning inexperienced. An interesting term indeed." looks about the path the 
  two are taking. "Where are we going, at any rate?"

Webb enters the square from the south.
Webb has arrived.

Shenner's grin, at this, gets a bit wider. "I was headed for the carnival," 
  she points out to the silver-haired swordsman at her side. "Seen it yet?"

Donivan enters the square from the south.
Donivan has arrived.

Jairen's brow furrows slightly. "Karn-ae-val? That is the celebration 
  entailing entertainment and food strewn about randomly in tents, correct?"

A peal of laughter wells up from the young musician. "Close enough. Wanna go 
  check it out? I was gonna go with Webb, but it didn't quite work out. I been 
  itching to get on some of the holocoasters."

Tarrin sighs as he sits next to the foutain looking aorund the squar..

Jairen looks dubious about that. "What is a holocoaster?

Donivan enters from the general direction of south and walks slowly along the 
  sidewalk. In his left hand is a black briefcase. It has been a while since 
  John has seen the surface of this planet, and he was hoping that it would 
  have been much longer, but business is business and he's got plenty here. 
  Slowly, the Corellian's eyes scan the street, perhaps looking for something 
  specific and perhaps just looking. It is interesting how a place changes in 
  several short months.

"Oh... well, heck, it's probably better shown than told," Shenner says 
  cheerfully, gesturing westward along Blake Street as she and her 
  silverhaired companion head out of the square.

[Down West Blake Street the singer and the swordsman go...]

Jairen continues to follow Shenner, looking rather skeptical about this 
  'Holocoaster' thing.

You head for the beach.
Hideaway Beach - Plaxton City
        Surging whitecaps paint themselves onto the powderlike, white sands of 
  this sliver of beachfront, tucked between the two massive bluffs that 
  encircle Plaxton City. The waves have eaten into several places on the 
  shore, forming rocky outcroppings and small coves, but one long strip is 
  laden with pristine, whispy sand. A few Pula trees jut out, throwing their 
  branches toward the tides. The leaves that grace the branches are beginning 
  to pale and turn browns and red. A few hundred meters from shore, a jagged 
  pebble of an island stands defiantly in the surf, holding up an old, unused 
  lighthouse. The night sky above is cloudy obscuring it.
                 -=-=-=-=-=-=<<Real Objects>>=-=-=-=-=-=-
=> Carnival of Setilli
=> Casivibak Tent
                  -=-=-=-=-=<<Visible exits>>=-=-=-=-=-
 <E>ast leads to West Blake St. - Plaxton City.

Jairen arrives from the street.
Jairen has arrived.

As the singer and the swordsman make their way out onto the beach, it can be 
  seen that a good chunk of the territory here between the city and the ocean 
  has been transformed. Light and sound and smells fill the air; laughter and 
  shouts waft down from the tallest and fastest of the rides, from the 
  delighted sentients letting themselves be thrown about at high speeds by 
  them. "See, there, look," Shenner encourages Jairen before the two of them 
  draw too near to the carnival. "Check it out -- see that big one up there, 
  the biggest of the rides? That's a holocoaster!"

Jairen doesn't know what to do first, blink rapidly at the lights, wince at 
  the sounds, or curl his nose slightly to the aromas. Oh well. Looking to 
  where Shenner indicates. "Ah. I see. What purpose does it have? What skills 
  does it teach?"

It hadn't ever occurred to her to have to explain the concept behind amusement 
  park rides, either. Casting a rather longing glance up at the big coaster, 
  Shenner hedges, "Er, well... its purpose is fun." She can't help grinning 
  with an almost childlike delight. "Dunno about skills, really, unless you 
  count learnin' how to be patient in line to get on the thing a skill. You 
  get on the thing, strap into the car and then they launch ya, and you ride 
  around real fast on the hills and the loops. The holo-effects are icing on 
  the cake, me, I like a good coaster as much without 'em."

Jairen still doesn't seem to completely grasp this concept of 'total 
  recreation.' Probably never had a day of 'fun' as most would define it in 
  his whole life, which is, as Shenner knows, a considerable hunk of time. 
  "So, people do this for enjoyment of the motion of the cars? It serves no 
  practical purpose?"

"Suckers for high speed and motion, yeah, that's the folks it caters to." 
  Shenner, it would seem, falls into this target audience. Her eyes alight, 
  grinning broadly, she goes on, "And not a practical thing about it. Or the 
  whole darned place, for that matter!" Grandly, she gestures out to take in 
  the whole carnival in general. "It's for blowing your money, eating lots of 
  fun food, listening to music, buying cheesy souvenirs... y'know, having 
  _fun_. Up for it?" She turns that bright gaze of hers back to her companion, 
  muses, and goes on kindly, "Big crowd, though. If that face you're wearin's 
  any sign, it's probably real noisy for you even from here, huh?"

Jairen looks back over at Shenner from looking at the large array of rides, 
  tents, people, and in general, chaos. "I can get used to it... it just 
  cought me unawares." turns again to regard this gathering of celebrants. 
  'Even celebrations at home have some sort of purpose.' he thinks to himself, 
  but doesn't say anything outloud. No point in hurting Shen's feelings over 
  something as trivial as this. Finally, he answers, "If you like, I will let 
  you show me around this Karn-ae-vahl."

Shenner veritably beams at Jairen's gesture, and happily waves him forward so 
  that the two of them can mingle into the flow of humans (with or without Sar 
  spots) and other sentients making their way in and out of the wide park. As 
  the two draw up closer to the edge of the brightly lit and noisy array of 
  entertainments, the young singer blinks to herself, and then admits, "I got 
  it a bit wrong, I think... carnivals in general are for fun, but I forgot! 
  This one's also to help, y'know, celebrate us winnin' the war. Guess Miz 
  Laarken and the rest of the powers that be wanted to throw a party now that 
  everybody's back into the swing of things. Me, I'm cool with a carnival any 
  day of the week -- but it's kinda nice anyway!" My, but Shenner _must_ be in 
  high spirits; hardly ever does she chatter like this.

"Ah," Jairen says from his few steps in front, over his shoulder. "So profits 
  from such an endeavor go to something other than the merchants' pockets?" 
  Looks around the area, stepping aside to let an older lady being pulled 
  along by an over active youngster pass by. "On my homeworld, we do not have 
  such things as this outside the court, and even rarely there. However, the 
  games and such are far different, and there is much less noise."

"The way I hear it," Shenner pipes cheerfully -- ooh! Look! Cotton candy! -- 
  "is, they're gonna hand out military awards, and do somethin' diplomatic 
  with the Griffon Alliance... dunno if they've earmarked a purpose for all 
  the profits, aside from funding further rebuilding, but I was hearin' 
  somethin' about a memorial they're gonna put up on the U of Caspar campus 
  for all the teachers and students that didn't make it when the campus was 
  razed." For a few moments, Shenner's expression turns more solemn, her eyes 
  a trifle distant, her smile a little sad. Then she waves off at the cotton 
  candy vendor for Jairen's benefit, to signal her abrupt change of course, 
  and starts fishing through her pockets for credits.

Donivan arrives from the street.
Donivan has arrived.

Obediently, as she's the one who knows her way through this labyrinth of 
  tents and vendors, Jairen turns and follows Shenner to the cotton candy 
  vendor. As she make her order, he eyes the wares rather dubiously, his hands 
  not moving from his sword hilt. "It is good to honor those who fell thus."

Donivan steps onto the sandy edges of the beach. His left hand rests upon the 
  hilt of the long, decorative sword hanging from his waist. The look John 
  wears on his face is that of a thinker, and from the looks of him the 
  thoughts are heavy in their nature. Slowly, money bags heads down to the 
  water, his gaze stuck on the crashing waves as if the patterns of moving 
  water help him think more clearly.

What in the name of seven systems' worth of gods is this girl buying? The 
  stuff that Shenner receives in exchange for her credits seems to be nothing 
  more than sugar spun into an airy mass of filaments, streaked countless 
  colors by edible dyes, and all piled atop a cardboard cone for ease of 
  carrying. "I love this stuff," the singer proclaims, looking over her prize. 
  Then, over the top of her colorful spun-sugar confection, she smiles 
  crookedly. "Yeah... the U's President and all the new board of directors 
  they got in, they're supposed to be issuing a call for a campus vote once we 
  all get settled in for the new term about what form everybody wants the 
  memorial to take. I ain't sure what I think about it yet. Needs to be 
  something pretty though."

Jairen looks at the treat that Shenner just bought for herself again, then 
  dismisses it from his mind. "Such a memorial should bring those lost to 
  mind. A Jaer honoring would try to embody the spirit that the beings 
  destroyed had in common with one another."

"Cotton candy," Shen identifies the big mound of multihued stuff on her 
  carboard cone. "It's sugar! Want some?" Holding out the cone, she waits long 
  enough to give Jairen a chance to sample her treat if he chooses, while she 
  muses, "Students and teachers. We were... all there to learn. Or teach. 
  Other 'n' that, it's kinda hard to pick out something 75,000 beings have in 
  common at a college, y'know?"

Tentatively, the swordsman reaches out and takes a piece of the fluffy stuff of 
  the cone. A small piece. "Knowledge is an honorable pursuit, whether to 
  share or to gain. That is what those killed had in common, that is what 
  should be symbolized." Shrugs slightly. "But, that is what my view is and 
  not many may share it." opens his mouth and inserts the solidified sugar 
  ball.

Webb arrives from the street.
Webb has arrived.

Casey arrives from the street.
Casey has arrived.
Casey leaves the beach behind and heads back into the city.
Casey has left.

Shenner and Jairen wend their way through the midway, conversing easily with 
  one another; the singer's bearing a newly purchased large cone of cotton 
  candy, streaked with enough colors to rival some planets' sunsets. She stops 
  to get a look at one of the games of chance, whose prize rack displays a 
  number of large stuffed furry animals, and there she pauses for a moment. 
  That almost childlike look of pleasure flashes across her face as she 
  surveys the prizes, but then she snaps her attention back to her companion. 
  "How d'ya symbolize 'knowledge', though? I mean, it'd be easier if any of 
  the local mythic figures stood for that, but I ain't managed to find any. 
  And you gotta find somethin' that'll appeal to a wide variety of cultures, 
  too... U of Caspar draws in students from a good chunk of the Slice, and 
  that's just the ones that actually come here rather than get their courses 
  over the Holonet!"

Webb's movements would seem to belie the fact that he is searching for someone 
  in a fashion which seems awfully reliant upon a scientific wild guess, at 
  best. His eyes scan each passing face as he makes his way down towards the 
  carnival on the beach, as if he expects that somewhere among this mass of 
  people is to be that who he is looking for.

As Shenner talks the small piece of cotton candy makes its way to Jairen's 
  mouth, only to be choked upon. "What manner of poison IS this?!" he 
  sputters. Concentrating on this, he completely misses her looks at the 
  prizes and such, though he hears her words.

Uh oh. Dismay floods Shenner's eyes, and she looks Jairen up and down in 
  alarm. "Sugar," she blurts then. "Ahh hell, I'm sorry... I shoulda asked if 
  you could eat it... you okay?" She's stopped entirely now near the ring toss 
  game with the toys that had caught her attention before, her cotton candy 
  momentarily forgotten.

With a wary pause at the gates of this carnival, Webb finally strides forth 
  onto the grounds to continue his search for a certain wayward redhead. 
  Naturally, a place that is teeming with so many sentients can be rather 
  difficult to search, if one is looking for one specific sentient. Webb does, 
  however, have a few insights into his quarry's mind, which places him at 
  least somewhat upon her trail.

After a few coughs and a clearing of the throat, the swordsman looks back up 
  at his younger carnival-goer. "You did not tell me it was PURE sugar..." 
  straightens. "I will be fine, truly. Just was unprepared."

"Oh... oh." Relieved that sugar is apparently not seriously toxic to a Jaer, 
  Shenner grins ruefully and scarfs down a mouthful of the colorful stuff 
  herself. "Well, not entirely purely sugar, I mean, there's food coloring in 
  there too to make it all pink and purple and orange and stuff, but that's 
  startin' to nitpick the details. Maybe you better stick to somethin' else 
  for snacks, though. How are you for salt?" She considers, glancing around in 
  all directions, ebullience returning since Jairen seems to be fine. "Or you 
  wanna just poke around and maybe ride some rides or something instead of 
  eating anything?"

Webb eyes the brightly coloured cotton candy at the vendor's stand as he 
  passes, noting that this brightly coloured confectionary seems to be the 
  sorts of stuff which would appeal to a certain russet-haired bard. For his 
  part, he doesn't actually purchase any cotton candy, being more preoccupied 
  with other things. He does, however, stop to ask the vendor if he's seen an 
  individual who matches Shenner's description, before he is once again on his 
  way.

Jairen nods slightly. "I do think I should stay away from any more of this... 
  whatever it is." he says as he waves at the cotton candy. "As for other 
  snacks, unless something appeals to me, as I am not hungry." looks about at 
  the other attractions. "The rides and games have yet to be determined.

"Cotton candy," Shenner clarifies helpfully. Now that she has free rein to 
  tear at top speed through her treat, she does so; it's rather impressive, 
  the rate at which a slip of a girl like her can inhale that much pure sugar. 
  Doubtless, this particular skill of hers is not entirely unrelated to her 
  ability to put down Corellian Suicides. She spins slowly around on a heel, 
  taking in the ambience, taking in the sights and sounds and attractions, 
  taking in the various things each clamoring in turn for a claim on her 
  attention... taking in the tall lean fair-haired figure coming through the 
  crowd. Shen starts, and then carols out, "Yo, Webb!"

Webb arches his eyebrows faintly, having born witness to at least part of the 
  cotton-candy disappearing act. This prompts a rather amused expression to 
  cross his face as he approaches. "Thought I'd find you here," he calls out 
  over the din of the crowd as he nears, only to close the ground rapidly so 
  that he might wrap his arms about the woman before him. Through some bit of 
  Shenner-induced tunnel vision, he doesn't seem to have noticed Jairen yet.

A small, knowing smile crosses the face of the Jaer warrior and he takes a 
  step back, letting things take their own course. Instead, he seems to 
  involve himself in watching a couple people try and throw rings onto 
  bottletops to win a small stuffed animal.

"Hey, hey, watch the cone," Shenner laughs, holding what's left of the cotton 
  candy out of the way while loosely and one-armedly hugging the newly arrived 
  soldier. "You were right, you were right. Jairen and I are wanderin' around, 
  he ain't never seen a carnival before, you got time? Wanna join us?" She's 
  almost... perky, now. Must be the sugar, eh? Green eyes flash a hopeful 
  glance back and forth between the soldier and the swordsman.

Webb grins and leans down to kiss Shenner lightly on the lips, before he peers 
  at the cone and asks, deviating momentarily from the main topic of 
  conversation, "Just how much sugar have you been consuming, hmm?" His tone 
  is decidedly light as he says, "I think I can stay for a while. Was kinda 
  looking for you after all." Seeing as Jairen's name has been mentioned, it's 
  about time that Webb becomes aware of the presence of others, and he offers 
  forth a simple, "Hello," in greeting.

Jairen nods back to Webb with a simple, "m'lord." However, while his face is 
  neutral, his eyes glint slightly in the semi-dark where the lights don't 
  always get to. There's at least something in this situation that amuses him 
  in some degree. "She has consumed only that which you see in her hand." he 
  offers in response to Webb's question, though it was not addressed to him.

"Well, more like, what's missing from what you see in my hand," Shenner 
  declares primly. Whoa, pedantic girl! But she ruins her own momentary 
  attempt at sounding knowledgeable by grinning broadly at both Webb and 
  Jairen and popping another fluffy portion of multihued sugar into her mouth. 
  "Want some?" _Webb_, at any rate, ought to have an anatomy that can handle 
  pure sugar.

Webb eyes the cone of cotton candy for a moment, then recalls just how large 
  the ones were which the vendor was selling, and does a quick comparison in 
  his mind as he ponders just how much pure sugar is now fuelling Shenner. 
  "Well..." he considers, before he reaches out to pull a hunk of cotton candy 
  off of the cone, and remarks, apparently to both of you, "Can't let her get 
  /too/ wired, now can we?" before he pops the tuft of cotton candy into his 
  mouth.

Jairen has an anatomy that can process pure sugar. Just happens to be more 
  difficult when your body is used to 250+ years of REAL food. However, that's 
  not the point. Taking the lead off Webb's question, he takes a step closer 
  to the pair, hands resting on his hilt again. "Is it not a tad late for such 
  considerations?" he asks in his typically melodic but Jaer-serious tone.

"You boys seem to be suffering under the delusion that I can't handle being 
  wired," Shenner proclaims expansively. Another sizeable chunk of the cotton 
  candy, this section of it predominantly green and yellow, is inhaled by the 
  young musician. "And besides, sugar's a stimulant, alcohol's a depressant, 
  if I get too hyper I can always get drunk instead." She winks, and with that 
  is abruptly darting off that ring-toss game, greedily eying the biggest of 
  the stuffed animals. Over her shoulder she appends to her companions, "I 
  need a little somethin' for my apartment, I think!"

Webb's gaze slowly turns towards the aforementioned game, and the selection of 
  ridiculously over-sized stuffed animals. "Which one?" inquires Webb as his 
  eyebrows arch slightly in a faintly bemused expression, "The Bantha?"

Jairen strides up to stand behind the pair, watching the activities of the 
  two. He still seems rather amused at this whole situation. He does, however, 
  remain quiet.

"Good gods, I never thought I'd say this about a bantha, but he actually looks 
  cute," Shenner enthuses. "He's got plush horns, check him out!" This, 
  apparently, inordinately amuses her. Grinning ear to ear now, she starts a 
  one-handed search through her pockets for more credits, then pauses a moment 
  in consternation as she tries to juggle her candy cone and coming forward to 
  answer the seductive call of those bottles just begging to have rings tossed 
  around 'em.

Webb peers back over his shoulder towards Jairen in a silent commentary 
  regarding Shenner's eccentricities. Not that those are a bad thing, mind 
  you. After all, some of the most interesting people one will ever meet are 
  downright nuts. Looking back to Shenner, it quickly becomes apparent that 
  the bard's grin is rather infectious.

Well, not TOTALLY infectious. While the swordsman still holds his slight 
  smile, few and privileged are the ones that have actually seen him grin, per 
  say. However, one thing he is faster than an over excited Shenner at is 
  fetching money from its location. Dipping his hand into one of his pouches, 
  he withdraws the appropriate amount of credits, handing them to the vendor 
  past his young friend's shoulder.

"Thanks Jair!" pipes the singer in delighted tones. The silver-haired 
  swordsman gets a brief but full-force edition of Shen's sunniest grin, 
  before the game attendant hands over a trio of small plastic rings. "Don't 
  bother, I know the drill," she adds to the attendant, cutting him off before 
  he can go into the usual spill about how the toss works. Somehow managing 
  transferring two of the rings to her other hand, nibbling down more of the 
  cotton candy, and taking aim with the third ring all at the same time, 
  Shenner is quite obviously revelling in the atmosphere of her surroundings. 
  "Lesseeeeee now, which one, which one--"

"Just throw the rings, sweetheart," rasps the big burly game attendant, who 
  rolls his eyes as if to say 'women' -- and who turns off to attend to some 
  of the rest of the crowd clustered around his booth.

Webb marvels for a moment at Shenner's display of coordination and balance in 
  the little juggling act that goes on between the rings, and the cotton 
  candy. "Uh, would you like me to hold that for you?" offers forth Webb as he 
  gestures to the cone of candy, all while regarding the attendant with a 
  faintly withering glare for his impatience with the enthusiastic young woman.

Jairen continues to watch the whole scene still rather bemused at this whole 
  situation. His free hand has again come to rest on his sword hilt as he 
  watches Shenner's balancing act as she gets ready to toss the rings. His 
  eyes narrow slightly as he watches now, however. Perhaps almost analytical.

Yeah yeah yeah, pal. The attendant's had a long and cranky day, huh? Sue him. 
  The fellow merely rolls his eyes again at Webb's glare, forking over more 
  rings for a little Sullustan's handful of credits. And when he has a moment, 
  he steps off to the side of his booth to mutter something into the 
  wrist-model comlink he's wearing, under his breath.

Shenner, in the meantime, cheerfully yields the cotton candy to Webb, then 
  pulls in a breath. She settles herself, arranging her stance and features in 
  a manner suggesting she's clearing her thoughts of distraction; her hand 
  with the aimed ring twitches once, twice. And the ring abruptly sails out, 
  skimming over several bottletops... only to skid down between a pair of 
  bottles. "Awww!" comes Shenner's dismayed cry. "Kark it!"

Webb uses the opportunity to pull a small tuft of the spun sugar from the cone 
  of cotton candy. Incredibly addicting stuff this cotton candy can be. One 
  eyebrow arches faintly as he observes Shenner's throwing techniques... 
  indeed, he seems even slightly more surprised that it actually missed. 
  Slowly, his head turns to peer towards the attendant.

Clink clink clink. Jairen also watches the plastic ring fall between the 
  bottles. His eyes narrow slightly again. Shen's technique wasn't THAT bad. 
  Oh well, he's not a thrown weapons kinda guy anyways. He'd probably do no 
  better. Instead, he takes a look around him to observe the fact that most of 
  the people here are children.

Indeed, a significantly large number of youngsters of assorted species are 
  scurrying all over the place, calling out to one another and to their 
  parents and just on general principles, laughing and shrieking with delight. 
  Little sentients even more hyper than Shen on even more sugar than she's had 
  so far charge hither and yon, supervised by often tired-looking adults. But 
  there's also a significant number of young people like the redheaded young 
  singer, taking breathers between invading the rides... and a smattering of 
  off-duty Marines scattered through the crowd as well.

If the attendant is aware of Webb's scrutiny, he gives no sign of it; 
  certainly the man isn't long muttering into his wrist unit. In seconds he's 
  back to smile placatingly at the little Sullustan as the being in rapid 
  succession misses all three of his throws and stomps off muttering curses in 
  his own language.

Shenner is undaunted by her first miss. Her green eyes glint with 
  determination -- and she might be heard muttering under her breath, "Stay on 
  target... stay on target..." Fling! The second ring sails out and strikes 
  home on a bottle five rows away from her.

Webb pulls another small tuft of the brightly coloured cotton candy from the 
  bundle, and chews it thoughtfully. Of course, the image of the stoic, 
  uniformed Marine stuffing the cheerfully coloured confection into his mouth 
  just seems to be the sort of thing that would be a little odd, in a faintly 
  amusing fashion. "Good toss," he offers forth as he wipes a little bit of 
  cotton candy residue from his lower lip, before he silently resolves to 
  leave at least some of Shenner's cotton candy on the cone that it came in.

"Yes," Jairen's soft voice adds. "Quite a good toss." lets his eyes wander 
  about the area again. Despite the revelry and all around good times going on 
  here, there's just something no right and he can't put his finger on it 
  quite yet. "The question now is, can you score the third time?" he says 
  looking back over Shen's shoulder.

What could be not-right about this scene of revelry? Certainly nothing in the 
  crowds that swirl in the immediate vicinity of the ring-toss booth; indeed, 
  about the only possible somewhat incongruous detail in everything nearby is 
  the attendant, a slightly scruffier fellow than one might expect at a 
  quality carnival. He notes Shen's successful second toss with a slight 
  smirk, while handing out rings to a shouting child and his frazzled-looking 
  mother, both of whom have violet-hued Sar spots.

The singer glances at both Webb and Jairen, grinning widely in acknowledgement 
  of their praise, before steeling herself for her final throw. "The intrepid 
  redheaded warrior bard closes in on her target," she mutters. Stay on 
  target! Stay on target! Use the Force, Shen! Well, something like that, 
  anyway. "She shoots..." *Fling* goes the ring. It spins around several times 
  in the air -- and comes in for a landing on a bottle almost towards the 
  middle of the game, rotating several times before it finally stops. "Let's 
  blow this thing and go home!" cries Shen then, thrusting both fists into the 
  air in victory. Well, okay, so Solo said that BEFORE the Death Star blew up. 
  Close enough for government work!

Webb suddenly seems compelled to scrutinise the cotton candy quite heavily, as 
  if a simple visual inspection could ever be sufficient to detect whether or 
  not this stuff has any appreciable hallucinogenic properties. "So did you 
  win?" Webb inquires curiously, seeming not entirely certain as to just what 
  kind of skill is required to win what.

Zemdar arrives from the street.
Zemdar has arrived.
Zemdar leaves the beach behind and heads back into the city.
Zemdar has left.

Jairen says, "Yes, what /does/ one win for participating in this game?"

"One wins," drawls the attendant, "one of these." He thrusts a grimy thumb up 
  at the stuffed animals overhead, surveying Shenner with a sardonic glint in 
  his eyes as he does so. "Choose your prize, sweetheart. You can have one of 
  the medium-sized ones."

"Hot damn," Shenner declares in satisfaction. Two tosses out of three puts one 
  of the smaller banthas into her range, and the young singer stretches up a 
  hand to deftly snag one off the line. Grinning ear to ear, she turns to 
  display the toy to her compatriots, asking drolly, "Whatcha think?"

Webb ponders for a moment as he scrutinises the plush bantha. "Well..." he 
  starts to say as he leans in a little to peer at the fuzzy beast's somewhat 
  comical expression, "It's very umm..." Webb grins faintly as he realises 
  that words are just defying how to explain his thoughts with regards to such 
  a beast, until he finally settles upon, "It's very you."

"It looks nothing like the real thing." Ah, Jairen Windchaser, the eternal 
  pragmatist. "It is not even to scale. What use is it?" Oh well, can't win 
  them ALL. He does however seem just a tad bit more on edge than he was a few 
  moments ago, it could just be the commotion starting to get to the usually 
  solitary warrior.

"Its _use_," Shenner explains in tones of infinite patience, "is for affection 
  and fun." It's comical, all right; what other word can be used to describe a 
  plush bantha with soft velvety horns and fur and enormous glassine eyes? 
  With a surprising amount of tenderness for a girl who typically slugs back 
  Corellian Suicides without even blinking, and who frequently slugs anyone 
  impudent to make a pass at her in the Sandbar (including her own band's 
  drummer), Shen tucks the little critter under her arm and adds grandly, "I'm 
  gonna name him Bob. Where you two wanna go next?"

At the mention of 'affection and fun', Webb slips his arm (the one which 
  doesn't hold Shenner's cotton candy) about Shenner's waist and interjects 
  dryly, "Same purpose as I serve in other words," as a wry grin crosses his 
  expression.

That seems to lighten up Jairen's mood a tad. "I will not inquire as to what 
  purpose I serve." looks about the area for a moment. "What is the next 
  logical place to go after such a game? One of the rides or another game?" it 
  IS his first carival after all.

Donivan leaves the beach behind and heads back into the city.
Donivan has left.

A passerby -- another carnival staffer, from his uniform -- going by with a 
  small wheeled barrel for refuse happens to catch Jairen's comment, to which 
  he answers with utmost politeness, "You folks might want to go check out the 
  Death Star III -- it _is_ the hottest ride we got tonight, after all! You 
  wanna chance in, you better get there soon." And on the man goes, pausing a 
  moment to tap a button on _his_ wrist-unit before wheeling his barrel away.

Shenner ooohs at the suggestion, while more or less straightfacedly casting a 
  glance between Jairen, Webb, and her new toy. Her eyes spark with 
  appreciation at the Marine's reaching for her, but the warmth of that green 
  gaze of hers doesn't diminish as she casts a glance along the swordsman's 
  elegant form. What she _says_, however, is a droll, "Bob gets to keep my 
  pillow warm next time you vanish on me, pal." With that, then, she swipes 
  her cotton candy back before Jon can steal any more of it, and she chatters 
  to Jairen, "Logic, shmogic, the idea is to do what looks fun! We can work 
  our way through the games or just go straight to the rides or whatever 
  works. Me, I'm up for the holocoaster!"

Casey arrives from the street.
Casey has arrived.
Casey leaves the beach behind and heads back into the city.
Casey has left.

Webb arches an eyebrow ever so faintly at the pillow remark. Shortly 
  thereafter his fingers deftly find their way to just one of the incredibly 
  ticklish spots that lays upon the side of Shenner's ribcage, and acts upon 
  it in the appropriate manner, albeit highly momentarily. "Okay, but Bob is 
  an exception to the rule," Webb comments, maintaining his utterly dry tone 
  as a sly grin crosses expression.

Jairen continues to move along the pair on the other side of Shenner and 
  perhaps half a step behind. He gives the two lovebirds a bemused look, 
  glancing around again in that particular brand of Jaer-paranoia he sports 
  around in areas like this... bright, crowded, and noisy... those things that 
  cancel out just about all of his highly developed hunting senses. "I have no 
  argument from this camp." is his comment, though his tone is neutral and 
  noone who doesn't know him well can tell if he's attempting to stay humorous 
  or not.

"Aigh! Hey, hey, pal, don't make me make you _wear_ this!" Shenner waggles Bob 
  the Bantha at Webb, before realizing that she _meant_ to waggle the cotton 
  candy -- which she promptly swipes back from the soldier. Fortunately, 
  enough of the sugary stuff has been consumed that when she _does_ waggle it, 
  it doesn't fall right off the cone and land in a goopy mess at her feet. 
  With that, then, the bard launches herself off through the crowd, seemingly 
  homing in by instinct on the area of the amusement park where the rides have 
  been set up. Not like they're hard to miss -- they're the biggest and 
  brightest attractions in the place -- but still. "C'mon, c'mon!" she calls 
  over her shoulder. At any other time, in any other place, she too might be 
  exercising her instincts; they're not as sharp as either Jairen's or Webb's, 
  not honed by either two centuries of experience held by the one or the 
  brutally intimate familiarity with war and killing held by the other for all 
  that he is much, much younger. Shen's instincts are primarily those of the 
  street, and she's quite happily mostly put them on hold for the evening, 
  just to be young, carefree, and having fun.

Webb retreats just a few steps at first being menaced by the stuffed bantha, 
  then the remnants of the cotton candy, adopting a vaguely defensive posture 
  just in case he were to be in a position to end up wearing either. Once this 
  threat has passed he immediately adopts a much more calm, nonchalant posture 
  as he exchanges a glance with Jairen, and shrugs his shoulders. After all, 
  Webb, being his slightly socially challenged self, isn't exactly a frequent 
  visitor to such venues as this carnival either. Deciding that for the 
  moment, Shenner's instincts are most likely the best in the group, 
  considering the task, he immediately starts off in hot pursuit before 
  Shenner can get lost in the crowd.

Jairen follows suit, moving after the rapidly disappearing Shenneret. However, 
  he does so at a mildly slower pace then Webb. Jairen may be a close friend 
  to Shen, but it is only honorable to let those two have some sort of vestige 
  of time to themselves during this.

Sometime later, perhaps, Shenner might be inclined to do... well, what two 
  healthy young humans of appropriate genders are liable to do when they have 
  time alone together. Right now, however, Shen is interested in light and 
  noise and lots and lots and _lots_ of speed, and the Death Star III promises 
  to provide them in abundance. Periodically checking back to make sure her 
  companions are still on her trail, the girl leads them on through the park 
  without a hint of hesitation. Every so often she calls out greetings to 
  passerby who seem to recognize her: the occasional patron of the Sandbar, 
  friends of her bandmates, classmates who also managed to survive the war, 
  and even a member of the Alpha Company with whom she'd helped fight in 
  Operation Nova.
Soon enough, though, she's led Jonathan Webb and Jairen Windchaser into the 
  section of the park devoted to the rides -- and even from some distance away 
  she can see the beginnings of a _very_ long line for the famous holocoaster. 
  "Ohhh, kark, this might be a while," she blurts out in dismay, skidding to a 
  halt. By now she's downed the rest of the cotton candy and shucked the cone 
  in the nearest recyc bin, so her only burden is Bob.

The crowd here is different -- many more young adults and late-adolescents of 
  the usual mix of species, or at least those whose systems and cultures find 
  high-velocity amusement park rides fun. Not much difference in the park 
  staffers, however. Like the burly young man leaning over one of the recyc 
  bins, punching in a reboot order to its terminal... and who casts a glance 
  in Shenner's direction as the redheaded girl goes past. That glance lingers 
  on the singer and upon her silver-haired companion before he abruptly turns 
  his face away... and raises his wrist-unit to his mouth.

Ronnie arrives from the street.
Ronnie has arrived.

Okay, for all of Webb's reservations about this place, and the appropriateness 
  of holding a /carnival/ in honour of the sacrifices of those who fought to 
  secure this possibly very temporary state of freedom, he does actually seem 
  to be enjoying himself. True, some might consider such an event to be a 
  'bread and circuses' approach to addressing the fact that the galaxy has 
  been right nasty lately - why deal with the problem after all when you can 
  convince people that it doesn't exist? Well, the situation (particularly 
  with the russet haired bard who he is presently in pursuit of) if sufficient 
  to over-ride even much of Webb's cynicism.
Nevertheless, something about some of these carnival workers... Webb can't 
  quite put his finger on it, but something about them is starting to register 
  in his brain as 'suspicious'... not that such triggers don't go off on an 
  incredibly regular basis as far as Webb is concerned. If one knew the inner 
  workings of his mind, one might almost consider him to be paranoid. On the 
  other hand, a little wariness is often the difference between a near-miss 
  and a body bag. Appearing more or less nonchalant, he nevertheless peers out 
  of the corner of his eyes at the 'carnival worker' as he passes.

You don't have to maybe consider Jairen paranoid. In a situation like this, 
  the silver haired warrior would simply admit to it when asked. However, he 
  seems to have noticed the inordinate amount of attention he's getting from 
  the carnival workers who then speak into wrist comlinks. He's getting so edgy 
  in fact that he's dropped his hands to his side. Most observers might thing 
  that this is a safer place to be but those familiar with how he uses that 
  weapon on his hip know quite a different spot. He's trying to have fun, 
  really, but 200+ years of instinct tell him something's not right here.

Ronnie enters the grounds, being fussed over by carnival workers. Ronnie shoos 
  them away, wanting to be alone, he looks around the beach, his home for the 
  few years, then the war came. He remembers it vividly, especially the Battle 
  of Gamma 3, flying Ben's Gnat, because they had nothing else for him... he 
  mutters amoungst the crowds something incoherent, and gets a few gazes. He 
  stops close to the Death star III ride and glares at it, and thinking to 
  himself about the idiocy of recreating that damned thing again, even if it's 
  a game... truly, Caspar has not learned it's lesson from war, he concludes...

Apparently, there are at least a small handful of people in the park that 
  agree with Webb's sentiments as to whether an amusement park is an 
  appropriate way to honor war casualties - especially when that amusement 
  park includes a holocoaster named after the two biggest instruments of 
  Imperial destruction in recent galaxy history. Three prim-looking Sarian 
  women, one middle-aged, one elderly, and one positively ancient, each 
  wearing identical expressions of tart displeasure upon their progressively 
  more wrinkled faces, might be spotted some distance away from the young 
  people in line for the holocoaster. They're bearing picket signs, with 
  slogans like "Do Not Glorify the Empire!" and "Is This _Real_ Honor?" and 
  "Plaxton City's Dead Can't Ride a Coaster, Why Should You?"

"Hrmph," Shenner exclaims in disgust, "bet they ain't even ridden it yet. I 
  read up on it, y'know," she chatters to Webb and Jairen as she wends her way 
  along the line, looking for where exactly it ends. "I hear they laid out the 
  whole course the Rebel forces followed to blow it up, and they got all 
  kindsa voice overs; would ya believe they even actually found somebody to 
  imitate Wedge Antilles? The light show's gotta be _awesome_..." And so on, 
  and so forth. Shen Veery, quite obviously, is a holocoaster buff. At last, 
  though, she rounds on her two friends and beams hopefully at them once the 
  end of the line is in sight. A sign proclaims, "60 Standard Minutes From 
  This Point" in both Basic and Sarian and a few other local system dialects, 
  along with another sign that adds, "You Must Be At Least This Tall to Ride 
  The Death Star III."

Webb peers grimly at the notice of just how long the line ought to be from 
  this particular point. "Hmm..." he remarks as he studies the sign intently, 
  as if doing so would in some way magically shrink away that number to a more 
  respectable level. "It certainly seems popular." A smirk crosses his 
  expression as he slides up beside Shenner, and peers down at the recently 
  won plush bantha. As for enthusiasm about holocoasters.... Well, Shenner has 
  gotten to experience one of Webb's thrill rides, in the form of a nice, 
  brisk, 17000 foot free-fall in a suit of enhanced armor. Seeing as Webb 
  repeats this exercise on a decidedly regular basis (not necessarily under 
  fire), any holocoaster is going to have a supremely tough time competing. 
  Luckily for him, he's here for the company.

Jairen takes a good, long look at the coaster and all the lights, screaming 
  people, and basically annoying things that are associated with them. "I 
  think not," he states to no one. Then, to the group, "I will sit this ride 
  out I think."

After finishing with his glaring at the ride, Ronnie decides he needs something 
  to eat, and makes his way over to one of the nameless outlets, where he buys 
  some disgusting form of meat on a stick, which he seems to think is pretty 
  appetizing, and he has the thing swallowed in a good two minutes. After, he 
  looks over to the water from his spot near the coaster, and reflects some 
  more on why he's here... It's been a long path, from those days, after the 
  war, things changed...

Awww! Well... not that Shenner can't understand the assault that a full-force 
  holographic reproduction of the Battle of Yavin is bound to do to Jairen's 
  inhumanly acute senses... but still, she's a trifle disappointed that this, 
  too, seems to be one of the rougher and louder and very human entertainments 
  she can't share with her adopted clansbrother. Something of her ebullience 
  dims down a bit, and she steps away from Webb towards Jairen to smile 
  crookedly at him. "Awww... well, d'ya mind waiting? If ya don't will ya 
  watch Bob?" She presents the bantha toy, her face full of that same almost 
  childlike hope. If one didn't know better, one might actually suspect Shen's 
  tapped into a store of innocence she doesn't normally express to _anyone_, 
  even her two friends.

And in the meantime, that last suspicious worker appears to have... vanished, 
  for the time being. No one is in immediate sight, at least no one in those 
  carnival uniforms with wrist-unit commlinks...

Webb peers towards Jairen in a manner which could be referred to as a 'knowing 
  glance', for any number of things - the long lines, the noise, the creepy 
  'carnival workers', and of course Shenner's utterly irresistible expression 
  that she employs with such insidious strategy.

Insidious strategy! Bah! Such things don't work on the stoic swordsman. Or do 
  they? Reaching out with his left hand... distinctly not his usual sword 
  hand... Jairen takes Bob the Bantha. "I shall guard him with my life." He 
  jokingly semi-swears, bringing his right fist to his chest.

Ronnie eventually finds a worker and asks him a few questions... according to 
  the man, Ronnie can get news in the tent to the left, so Ronnie heads off 
  into the tent. 
Ten minutes later, the sound of yelling can be heard from the tent, the sound 
  of items being swept off a counter can also be heard as Ronnie comes 
  trotting out of the tent muttering, "they signed a treaty with the bastards" 
  and heads over to a bench, as upset as a Rodian could ever be... by 
  coincidence, he happens to choose a bench not far from Jairen as he sits and 
  buries his face into his hands.

Bob the Bantha seems to approve. Or perhaps that's just the fact that even a 
  big smelly creature from Tatooine can be made adorable when rendered in 
  plush and large shiny black eyes? Who knows. Regardless, Shenner beams and 
  proclaims warmly, "You gotta teach me how to say 'thank you', Ilharn. And 
  you" -- _this_ is apparently for the bantha, as she waggles a slim finger at 
  it -- "be good." And she spins round again, reaching for Webb's arm in 
  apparent determination to haul _him_ onto the ride even if Jairen is best 
  sitting out. "C'mon, pal, you're just dyin' to be all of Gold Squadron, 
  ain'tcha?" In moments, she's tugging the young Marine off towards the tail 
  end of the line, leaving the silver-haired swordsman to guard her toy...

... and leaving, too, a fourth figure in a carnival uniform peeking out of the 
  shadows at the back of a nearby booth. The man is small and wiry... and 
  staring in Jairen's direction from his unobtrusive vantage point, staring 
  with eyes hard and cold with unmitigated hatred.

"Depends," answers Webb with the sort of dry blasé that comes from being just 
  a little too veteran at a lot of things, "Are they the ones who got the snot 
  pounded out of 'em during the infamous 'Trench Run'?" He hooks his arm 
  through Shenner's as he follows alongside of her. "You know," he begins to 
  relate after a short pause, "Back when I was a Reb, it took our pilots a 
  matter of three days to transform that term into a euphemism."

Jairen tucks the small animal under his left arm and turns and watches the 
  other patrons of the festivities. His right hand, his sword hand, remains 
  free however. Something is still bothering him about this place and he can't 
  quite pinpoint it yet. Following his two centuries plus of battle 
  experience, he finds a nice wall, not a tent mind you, but a solid wall to 
  stand in front of where he can see the line where Shenner and Webb are as 
  well as most of the lane.

Ronnie stands, still angry... but calm... He doesn't see anymore point in 
  being here, if Caspar wants to glorify the sacrifice not him, but those he 
  knew made, then that would be their issue. 
He takes in a glance at Webb and Shenner, but ignores them both, deducing 
  that despite having seen them around town, that is no reason to start a 
  conversation... He looks to the two Kylan-3 pistols in their holsters on his 
  legs and thinks, "I coulda been a bit more inconspicuous, but what does it 
  matter now" as he starts one last walk around the grounds.

Once the singer and the soldier take up a position at the tail end of the line 
  for the holocoaster, a few more carnival-goers soon get in line behind them. 
  Shen grins widely as Webb begins his recounting, avidly soaking in his words 
  -- not only is she a holocoaster buff, she's a Rebellion buff, too. Hey, 
  she's met Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, and Han Solo; kinda comes with the 
  territory, y'know? Not surprisingly is the young bard entirely unaware of 
  the figure lurking not too far away behind that booth, that figure who 
  brings his wrist-unit up to his mouth and mutters into it a single word. 
  Anyone within earshot might catch that single syllable, but no one is close 
  enough: "Now."

The next figure that passes Jairen, as the swordsman takes up his own vantage 
  point, is _not_ clad in a carnival uniform; for all intents and purposes, he 
  looks exactly like a slightly rumpled young Sarian, clad in a voluminous 
  waist-length cloak, as he kneels nearby as if to recheck he lacings on his 
  boots. This lasts exactly as long as it then takes for the stranger to 
  subtly snap an arm up from under the cloak, aim a tiny wrist-mounted dart 
  launcher... and fire a slim, almost invisible projectile at the 
  silver-haired warrior.

Webb seems uninclined at this time to relate exactly what this 'Trench Run' 
  euphemism was. After all, in spite of the height restrictions, a fair number 
  of individuals in this line who would be in easy earshot wouldn't exactly be 
  old enough to be appropriate audience for such (less glorified) stories of 
  the Rebellion.
Of course, far be it for Webb to actually relax completely as he stands next 
  to Shenner with his arm hooked through hers. People just seem to be 
  acting... strangely. His brow furrows ever so faintly as he adjusts the 
  subject of conversation back towards far more tasteful realms, only to trail 
  off abruptly as he detects the sharp movement of the arm being raised.

A soft *click* sound. Barely audible. But for one certain Jaer Warrior, 
  barely is good enough. Immediately, Jairen swivels and slide back into a 
  backstance to get out of the way of whatever's coming at him, though he's 
  still unaware of the source. However, despite the swordsman's proven 
  reflexes the small projectile slices through the sleeve of his tunic, grazes 
  his arm and buries itself quietly in the wooden planking now to the side of 
  Jairen. Windchaser's eyes are wide as he scans the area for possible points 
  of origin.

As Ronnie turns, he sees Webb's sudden reaction... He may not be greatly 
  attentive, but he knows trouble when he sees Webb. Suddenly, from behind 
  him, he hears the clicking, and turns around, seeing Jairen and the cloaked 
  man, but not yet sure what his intent is, he calls out to the men 
  indirectly, and offers quickly but calmly, "what was that?"

The dart-launcher vanishes under the cloak as swiftly as it had emerged -- and 
  the young Sarian who as far as anyone in the crowd is concerned had just 
  knelt to relace his boot lazily gets up again and begins to stroll on his 
  way. He casts a bemused glance in Jairen's direction as if to wonder 'What's 
  with him?'...

... while Shenner blinks at Webb, seeing the Marine's attention diverting from 
  her. "Hey, go on," she prompts eagerly, wanting to hear more about the next 
  battle that the conversation had been beginning to cover. "You still with 
  me, Jon? Base to Lieutenant Webb, come in, Webb...?"

Webb mutters aside to Shenner in tones deliberately kept low for purposes of 
  subtlety, "Something's not right..." As to just how 'not right' things are, 
  Shenner, being immediately next to him, would notice Webb's fingertips 
  moving to lightly touch the handle of his sidearm. "Think we might wanna 
  check on Jairen..."

'Not right' is hardly an accurate phrase but it'll do for now. Making sure Bob 
  is secure, Jairen brings his left hand up to the spot on his right arm where 
  the dart made contact. Touching the spot with a finger he holds in front of 
  his face. Blood. Whatever was on that dart made it into his system. The 
  question is now who shot it and what is the design of the toxin. He scans 
  the crowd for both the shooter and for his two friends.

Although not the hunting genius he should be, Ronnie senses something amiss 
  with the cloaked man, and he quietly withdraws one of his weapons from the 
  right holster and follows the man through the crowd, slowly and stealthy 
  without letting the man know someone is trailing him, obviously he still has 
  Rodian genes in him.

That softly delivered warning and the subtle shift of the man at her side 
  nudges Shenner out of her carnival-induced buoyancy... and her immediate 
  first reaction is to glance back the several meters to where she and Webb 
  had left their companion. Jairen is not immediately where she'd left him, 
  and so the singer abruptly frowns. "C'mon then," she murmurs to the Marine, 
  abruptly jumping out of line and crossing over the chain that had sectioned 
  off the sentients anxious to get on the DSIII away from the main flow of the 
  throng -- much to the delight of the pair of youngsters that'd been just 
  behind her. "Yay!" they cry, surging forward to fill the sudden gap.

The Sar-spotted man in the cloak in the meantime seems to be entirely unaware 
  that he's got a Rodian on his tail now. But he's easy enough to follow. He 
  doesn't get in the line for the holocoaster, but he _does_ set himself a 
  course for another of the big nearby rides, whose line he nonchalantly joins.

As drawing a blaster in a crowded carnival generally produces unpleasant 
  results, like more than a bit of panic, Webb has not as of yet drawn his 
  sidearm from its holster. He is, however, right behind Shen at first... 
  maybe a step or two ahead not long afterwards. "Something funny happened," 
  Webb explains, donning one of those 'no really' expressions of extreme 
  seriousness, "Sarian with a trenchcoat... he was watching Jairen. Then he 
  made a move... not sure what he did."

As his two friends approach Jairen is leaning, yes leaning, against the wooden 
  wall next to him and he blinks a few times then shakes his head once as if 
  to clear it. He waits until they within earshot to hold up the small silver 
  dart he's retrieved from the wall by now. "It seems someone is not pleased 
  with my being here." he says. Despite his stance, his speech isn't slurred 
  or sluggish at all.

Joining the line after cutting off a few citizens, Ronnie is right behind the 
  man... he keeps his Kylan low and makes an ajustment to it, then pulls it up 
  and pushes it hard into the mans back and pulls the trigger. He catches the 
  man as he falls from the stun blast, and keeps him upright to look as normal 
  as possible. He steps out of line and makes his way back to Jairen, Webb, 
  and Shenner. Despite a few odd looks, he pretty much makes it back 
  undetected. He drops the limp man before the three and says in thick 
  accented basic, "looking for him?"

If the Sarian had expected a Rodian to sneak up behind him in the line for the 
  somewhat smaller coaster he'd been about to try for, he certainly doesn't 
  give any sign of it. Nor does he have much time to do more than jerk in 
  surprise before the muffled stun blast shuts down all his higher cognitive 
  processes. As Ronnie hauls his sudden captive back towards Jairen, those 
  three little old ladies protesting the DSIII can be heard to mutter 
  disapprovingly to one another. "Why, look at that young man, he must be 
  drunk!" "They let all sorts into these nasty places, don't they, Mabel?"

Shenner, though, frowns tightly -- at Webb's words, at Jairen's lowly murmured 
  pronouncement, and at the sudden arrival of the Rodian in their midst, 
  coming up to join them just as she and Webb reach the Jaer swordsman. The 
  singer's first concern is for Jairen, though, to whom she murmurs in 
  consternation, "You okay?"

Webb nudges the unconscious form of the apparent culprit lightly with his boot, 
  before he kneels down to proceed to search the man for the weapon which 
  fired the tiny dart that Jairen now holds. Pausing to tilt the unconscious 
  man's head towards Jairen, Webb inquires, "Uh... do you know this guy?" 
  before he continues to frisk the man.

Jairen's right arm hangs limp. He hands the bantha to Shenner. "Here..." bends 
  down to examine the man. "No, I do not..." finds the wrist launcher. "But 
  he's definitely the shooter." takes the small device and slips it into a 
  pouch. "Now," he says as he stands up. "Only two questions remain. Why did 
  he do it and what was the dart tipped with." Places his left hand over the 
  cut on his right arm.

Standing the shooter, Ronnie speaks again to Webb, "Lieutenant, we probably 
  should get this guy to the authorities..." and then, turning to Jairen, he 
  says, "And we should get you to Dr Tarquin... We don't know what was in the 
  dart."

Her brow crinkled in consternation, and having not received a vocal answer to 
  her question, Shen settles for looking the swordsman up and down and making 
  as best a call on his status as she can. "Thanks," she mutters gruffly, 
  accepting Bob back, but rather more concerned for her sword-teacher than her 
  toy at this point. While Webb and Jairen frisk the cloaked Sarian, she 
  sidles over into as good a position as she can to block their activities 
  from casual passersby. And she puts in to the Rodian, since no one else has, 
  "Thanks -- but let's try to get outta here before we start raisin' eyebrows, 
  huh boys?"

"Agreed," mutters Webb in a decidedly no-nonsense tone in response to the 
  recent suggestions as to the wisest course of action in this case, before he 
  begins to lift the inert form of the stunned Sarian. "How's the arm feeling, 
  Jairen," he asks almost casually, "Any numbness? A tingle? Soreness?"

Jairen looks down at his right arm. He lifts it slightly. "I can feel my elbow 
  still a little but not my fingers of hand. I think the dart must have been 
  designed to incapacitate me." looks back at Webb. "As it is, if we are 
  attacked on our way out by this man's compatriots, I will be severely 
  handicapped."

Sliding his arm under the stunned man, he assists Webb, and says... "you're 
  all right, now let's get out of here" and he waits for the initial pull to 
  let him know when Webb starts walking.

"Officially Not Good," Shenner mutters, casting a narrow-eyed glance at her 
  teacher's numbed arm, and beginning to realize exactly what disabling his 
  sword arm can do in terms of reducing his effectiveness as a fighter. 
  "They'll be real karkin' silly to try anything else somewhere this public, 
  though." The musician doesn't go for her blaster, not in so populated an 
  area, but wary tension has chased all traces of her prior near-childish glee 
  out of her eyes. Electing herself crowd-clearer, she springs into motion, 
  waving a few passerby out of the way and saying in wide-eyed guilelessness, 
  "He just got off the DSIII, couldn't handle it! Clear the way, will ya, we 
  wanna take him home. Clear the way!" Deliberately ignoring the odd looks 
  she's getting from some of the sentients at the tail end of that coaster's 
  line, she starts cutting a path for the others.

Webb mutters in a low tone to Jairen as Shenner offers forth an explanation of 
  the unconscious Sarian's apparent poor health to the crowd, "Soon as we get a 
  chance, you're flushing out that wound with water before any more of that 
  stuff seeps into your system." Webb sighs, adding something in an even lower 
  tone about how little peace there can be in this supposed haven that is 
  Caspia, as his eyes scan the crowds, ever alert for the reappearance of any 
  of the unconscious fellow's associates.

To lower odd looks, Jairen lets his left hand drop as well so that both hands 
  are at his sides. "Probably a wise piece of advice." he says to Webb. 
  However, he is also now on full alert as his eyes dart everywhere.

Barely keeping pace with the others, Ronnie makes his way. He quietly mutters, 
  "I'm Ronnie, Ronnie Guynok... CEO, AEC Shipyards" He stumbles slightly but 
  doesn't drop the man.

Several more curious glances are directed to the little group's way as the 
  redheaded singer leads her companions out of the amusement park. As she 
  goes, Shen utters a string of bland assurances, including a "no, no, we're 
  quite all right" to a uniformed attendant with a wrist-unit comlink who 
  attempts to intercept her and inquire whether she and those behind her are 
  in need of assistance. Fortunately, the park isn't that big, being a 
  temporary construction for the week -- and so the group can soon find 
  themselves approaching far more open ground.

At the appearance of the uniformed attendant with the wrist comlink, Webb 
  exchanges a quick glance with Ronnie, before his eyes turn back to the 
  attendant and fixate. A hint of wariness ought to be apparent to his 
  friends, as Webb shifts the load that he is carrying slightly just in case 
  he needs to access his blaster. Understandably, he delays just a touch in 
  answering Ronnie's introductions.

Jairen also gives the Attendant a once over, though perhaps his attention is a 
  little bit less subtle than the Marine's. Of course, he has no burden to 
  shift, but he does lay his left hand nonchalantly on his sword hilt as he is 
  accustomed to do, his right arm still hanging.

Ronnie tries to stay as inconspicuous as possible, as he stays with the group, 
  looking around. he looks over to the man, and ignores the man, letting the 
  others deal with him... they live hear after all. He tries to walk faster, 
  wanting to get away from this place as soon as possible.

The attendant _looks_ innocuous enough, politely inclining his head to Shen as 
  he goes on his way -- but the singer, too, gives him an odd look once she 
  senses out of the corner of her eye that both Webb and Jairen are staring at 
  at him. Once they're home free to the outer edge of the park, however, the 
  girl glances to the Rodian and says gruffly by way of belated reply to his 
  introduction, "Shen Veery." She keeps going, though, trekking down the beach 
  and looking for the first decent route out and away from the crowds 
  streaming in and out of the park. "Where we headed, people? Law enforcement 
  station or what?"

Webb finally answers Ronnie's earlier introduction, "Jonathan Webb... 10th 
  Spacemobile Infantry. First thing we gotta do..." he says as he turns his 
  attention back to Shenner, "First priority ought to be getting Jairen 
  treatment. This guy..." he gestures to the unconscious Sarian, "Is going to 
  wake up eventually, so we ought to restrain him while he's still nice and 
  cooperative."

Jairen bows a small bow to the Rodian. "Jairen Windchaser..." he says in his 
  melodic accent. He looks like he's about to go through the whole schpeel 
  about his titles and such, but obviously thinks better of it. "Yes, 
  restraining him would be prudent. As for my arm, removal of this substance 
  as soon as possible would be appreciated."

Expressing a slow regret Ronnie says, "I knew I should have brought the 
  speeder, but how the heck was I to know" he starts to think a little more 
  seriously and continues, "let's see if we can get some transport. I don't 
  know Caspar as well as I should, but there should be somthing for hire." 
  then the name "Jonathan Webb" clicks, and Ronnie looks at the human saying, 
  "Your legend precedes you, I remember before the war, in IGnews, something 
  about kidnapping an imperial Lieutenant, It's an honor"

Shen points out drolly, "Well, I can wave down a skimmercab, but the question 
  remains -- where are we gonna take our friend? Will they help us sit on him 
  at the hospital, is what I'm worried about..." She keeps moving, though, 
  leading the rest of the group back towards Blake Street and looking for the 
  first decent place to stop and look for public transport. Every so often she 
  casts dark glances over her shoulder, to make sure that the two carrying 
  Jairen's assailant are still keeping up -- and that Jairen himself is still 
  on his feet. The young singer's gaze lingers on him more often than not, and 
  although her face has set itself into a decidedly stoic expression, still 
  there is a tinge of worry in those big green eyes of hers.

Webb considers the whole situation briefly. "I can make sure this guy gets 
  where he's supposed to go... the rest of us will get Jairen to Tarquin 
  Memorial... we'll meet there," he states as he lowers the stunned figure to 
  the ground, then proceeds to search through his pockets for anything that 
  would be suitable for binding this man's ankles and wrists. Finally, a small 
  roll of heavy duty tape is produced, which seems to fit the bill of what 
  Webb is looking for.

Jairen looks rather frustrated as he is seen attempting to move his arm, now 
  completely paralyzed it would seem. "This is exasperating." comes his voice. 
  A professional warrior unable to draw his weapon. He's probably never been 
  this way before in his life. "Very well, let us do that." reaches over and 
  examine the assailant once again, looking for a wrist comlink.

Ronnie nods to Webb, "that would probably be our best idea, if you're sure you 
  can handle him and whomever else comes up, I'll make sure Ms Veery and Mr. 
  Windchaser make it to Tarquin" he readjusts his right kylan from it's "stun" 
  setting to maximum power.

Still stunned by Ronnie's blaster shot, the Sarian has as of yet shown no 
  signs of stirring. His pockets and his person are open to both Webb and 
  Jairen's scrutiny, and in addition to the tiny shooter that'd been secured 
  at his wrist, a blaster can be found hidden under that cloak as well. And... 
  ah. A commlink. Not a wrist model, but small and discreet nonetheless.

That'd be that, then. Shenner flicks Webb a brief concerned glance, too -- but 
  then, if there's anything she's learned about Jonathan Webb in the months 
  she's been his friend and then some, it's that the man can take care of 
  himself. Still... she steps over to him for a moment, touching his shoulder 
  and rasping softly, "Watch your back, Jon." She proffers Webb a small 
  crooked smile and holds it for a single second, before turning off to escort 
  Jairen to the hospital. "Okay boys. Let's do it."

Webb studies the comlink for a moment, taking note of the frequencies which it 
  is set to, before tuning in his own comlink to monitor. As Shenner touches 
  his shoulder he slowly looks up to her, allowing his seriousness to 
  evaporate as his gaze meets hers. "Oh... I'll keep a few good tricks up my 
  sleeve," he assures her as he starts to heft the limp body up onto his 
  shoulder. Rising up to his feet, he manages to lean to give Shenner a quick 
  kiss on the cheek... without toppling over or dropping his load, "See you 
  soon."

Jairen looks thoughtfully at the comlink in his left hand. "I have an idea... 
  but first, we need to get my arm healed."

Letting Webb take the full brunt of the man, Ronnie draws both kylans, keeping 
  them low, but ready. "let's go" he mutters to Shenner and Jairen, and moves 
  on taking one last glance at the departing marine.

[And soon...]

_I do not,_ Shenner reminds herself for the hundredth time as she paces in the 
  lobby of the Dr. Tarquin Memorial Medical Center, _like hospitals. I do not 
  like hospitals. I do not like hospitals..._ The redheaded musician's worn a 
  stoic grimace ever since she's set foot in the place and it hasn't shifted 
  as Jairen's been escorted off by a doctor to be quietly attended to; one 
  would think that she, not the swordsman, is the one having to undergo 
  treatment. And it hasn't much helped her mood that the receptionist behind 
  the desk has snuck a glance at the toy bantha still stuffed under her arm, 
  smiled in a positively maternal fashion, and then chosen to apparently 
  dismiss her as a restless adolescent. _Hrmph. I'm 20, kark it, and I like 
  stuffed animals. So sue me. Hrmph. Where the heck -is- Jair, anyway?_ And 
  for the hundredth time, she casts an anxious liquid glance at the door 
  behind which her teacher, clanbrother, and friend has vanished.

Webb finally shows his face in the waiting room... having managed to deposit 
  his cargo at its appropriate destination without any appreciable 
  interference. Doffing his beret and tucking it under the epaulet of his 
  jacket, he strides in to find Shenner pacing back and forth with Bob the 
  Bantha tucked under her arm. Making a bee-line for the rather focused young 
  bard, he inquires to Shenner, "Did I miss anything important?"

Important? Nah... nothing important has happened. However, the raised voices 
  coming from the next room might count as important. "But sir, we've never 
  seen anyone with your rather unique body chemistry! We don't know how long 
  the chemical will work or if it won't end up killing you." comes a male 
  voice, probably a doctor. "Enough m'lord!" Definitely Jairen. "You have done 
  your service, but do not try my patience. You may be a Healer but your task 
  is through at this time." With that, the door slides open and Jairen walks 
  out, flexing his fingers while holding his right wrist with his left hand. 
  He's literally dragging the doctor, who's trying to hold onto his shoulder. 
  "BUT SIR!!!" As the swordsman turns towards Shenner, he calls in a mildly 
  loud voice, "Daharil, velve!"

Ronnie steps into the room, and heads toward Shenner and Webb, "please excuse 
  the absence, but I had to go and cancel my meeting" he says, "How's he 
  doing? did they figure out what the dart was tipped with?" questions pour 
  out of the Rodian's mouth until he notices he's babbling, "sorry" he says 
  politely, "I get excited sometimes"

Converged on from three directions at once, Shenner rather startledly halts 
  her pacing. In addition to the bantha tucked under her left arm, she's got 
  the belt of Jairen's sword hanging off her slim shoulder, and she's 
  carefully cradling both it and his dagger to her as if they were far more 
  fragile sorts of objects than sharp-edged instruments of destruction. In 
  fact, the blades with which she's been entrusted have been the one thing 
  that have prevented her from hassling the receptionist for reports every 
  five minutes -- and well, she's got a glimmer of inner satisfaction at the 
  slight bemusement the woman appears to have felt upon trying to figure out 
  what a seemingly nice lass with a stuffed bantha is _also_ doing with a 
  sword and a dagger. The singer's emerald gaze snaps from Webb to Ronnie and 
  then to Jairen, as the swordsman's clarion accents and the force of his 
  entry into the room assure her that he must be more or less alll right. 
  Grinning crookedly at the Marine and the Rodian, Shen chooses to approach 
  her teacher before answering them, crossing the distance between herself and 
  Jairen and answering him in accents coming passably close to matching his 
  fluid cadences, "Velve, Ilharn." The sheathed dagger is held forth first for 
  Jairen's claiming, while Shenner puts on her best guileless expression for 
  the benefit of the apparently outraged doctor.

Webb peers aside at Ronnie and flashes him a faint grin, before he turns back 
  to watch Shenner and Jairen. He mutters to the newly arrived Rodian as he 
  observes the hand-over of the sword and dagger, "He's just getting out of 
  treatment. Our friend has been deposited where he's supposed to be. I have a 
  couple of acquaintances looking into the guy's background." With that he 
  shrugs his shoulders casually and appends, "Things seem pretty ordinary so 
  far."

Ronnie looks back at the marine and gives him a strange look, "Normal? this is 
  normal?" then he gives himself a thought and says, "no wonder I decided to 
  move to Pride." the Rodian looks casually at his chronometer and then does a 
  double take at the time, he almost jumps and says to Webb, "I have to go, 
  glad to meet you, give Ms Veery and Mr. Windchaser my regards." he waits for 
  a response and then heads out of the hospital at a running jog.

Jairen with a hint of a smile ever so subtle to his young friend, Jairen's 
  right hand shoots out, grasps the hilt of the vibro dagger, and has the 
  point at the doctor's throat in one quick, fluid movement. "I said, your 
  services are appreciated, but are finished, m'lord." The doctor, now very 
  quiet, nods with his eyes, backs a step or two away, then runs like hell. 
  Meanwhile, Jairen has taken his baldric and belt from Shenner and has 
  buckled them on, slipping the vibro away. Which, as the perceptive could 
  tell, was never turned on. A quick wink to Shenner, then the comment. "I am 
  ready."

Somehow, Shenner manages to stifle a burst of laughter at the poor doctor's 
  hasty retreat, not to mention the horrified look from the receptionist. 
  "Glad you're okay, Jair. But let's get outta here before they decide to sic 
  security or somethin' on us, huh?" she implores both Jairen and Webb, 
  gesturing with Bob at the door. Amusement or not, she's still visibly tense 
  from the wait.

Webb mutters in agreement to that suggestion as he peers back towards the 
  door, "Hospitals kinda give me the creeps anyways." Smirking ever so 
  faintly, he shrugs his shoulders, then asks, "Uh... where to now?"

"The forests..." A very cryptic comment from a now quiet, reserved, and highly 
  cryptic looking Swordsman. Without another word, he turns and heads out the 
  door.

The forests. Two simple words out of Jairen, but they seem to catch Shenner 
  just a trifle by surprise. She blinks several times between the 
  silver-haired warrior's departing back and Webb at her side... and then 
  murmurs ruefully to the latter man, "You heard him -- c'mon!" Out, then, 
  into the night, a strange thrill seizing her as her mind races over the 
  several possibilities of what her Ilharn might have up his sleeve.

Webb arches an eyebrow faintly at the suggestion as to the next destination, 
  but readily falls into tow at the end of the procession, before a few quick 
  steps bring him up alongside Shenner, as he inquires, "The woods, eh?" A 
  faint grin crosses his expression as he says, "Somehow... I fail to feel all 
  that surprised."

Ah yes, the woods. Jairen silently leads the trio through the forests outside 
  the city for several minutes until he comes to a small glade completely 
  encircled by huge, ancient trees that managed to miss the razing done by the 
  recent Imperial attack. Perhaps some of the last in the forest of this age. 
  "Here..." he says turning back around to meet the other two, "... will our 
  adversaries be goaded." To this effect he holds up the comlink. "We will 
  separate them and pick them off one by one. Use deadly force only when 
  absolutely needed. These are not warriors, but thugs and ruffians who know 
  not what they encounter."
With that done, Jairen raises the comlink to his mouth and speaks into it. 
  "Waelen. Fools. I still live. Your attempt fails. I am where this signal 
  originates. Come find me." With that, he turns the homing signal on and 
  drops it in the middle of the glade. Taking a few steps back towards the 
  ring of trees, he says, more to himself than anyone else, "Lil alurl velve 
  zhah lil velryn uss..." Then disappears into the trees.

All throughout the trip, Shenner hasn't said much. She's regretted having left 
  her training sword behind in her apartment -- but well, hey, it's a training 
  sword. She _does_ have a blaster, and furthermore, she also has gained a 
  familiarity with this terrain courtesy of the silver-haired Jaer who's led 
  her and Webb out here into the trees. That familiarity, demonstrated for the 
  first time to Jonathan Webb, begins to manifest itself as a sort of odd 
  mingling of peace and alertness steals over her. The farther they head into 
  the trees, the more silent Shen's passage becomes -- though she doesn't 
  match the utter flowing silence that is the moving of Jairen Windchaser in 
  his natural element. Once in the clearing, she pauses with a strange light 
  in her eyes and a small upward curl at one end of her mouth. After Jairen 
  announces his intentions and promptly vanishes, she turns to the Marine at 
  her side and murmurs, "What sector you want, Lieutenant?"

As Shenner and Webb are deciding where to go, there is a quick hiss and a 
  "Dalharil!" With that and no other warning, the wrist launcher finds itself 
  landing at Shen's feet.

Webb has passed beneath the boughs of many a forest like this one through his 
  widely travelled military career. Though others may find such terrain 
  foreboding and ominous, to Webb, there is something about the thick masses of 
  foliage that is actually quite welcoming. "You know," he mutters aside to 
  Shenner, surveilling the options presented by the terrain, "I like your 
  friend's style..." His jacket is quickly shrugged off, for in spite of its 
  dull coloration, is rather at odds with the surrounding terrain. At this 
  time, it becomes readily apparent just what a plethora of... junk Webb has 
  in his pockets at any given time. First comes wad of squares of slate green 
  cloth, suitable for making bandages or in this case, Webb explains, "We need 
  to cover up your hair..." he unfolds the cloth revealing it to be a 
  decent-sized square, "Tie it over your head." Next comes a camouflage 
  compact which he opens and proceeds to quickly apply a layer of the stuff to 
  his face and hands, with practiced ease, before he passes it to Shen, "Quick 
  game plan... We each watch one of his flanks," he gestures up vaguely in 
  indication to Jairen. "Keep in mind where I am. I'll be watching for you. If 
  we have to fall back, we retreat past each other. Enveloping defense..."

If he could be seen by people who don't know what to look for, Jairen could be 
  seen in a tree at the western edge of the glade now, watching intently, 
  listening carefully. While there's a possibility Webb might be able to 
  detect the Jaer in this state due to his extensive field experience, and 
  Shenner might due to her training in such arts with said Jaer, one from the 
  city who has little experience in the woods, even the experienced nature 
  lover, would see but only a shadow, hear only but wind.

'Daharil'. It means 'daughter', 'cousin', and at the moment, it also serves to 
  neatly translate to 'Heads up, Shen!' The young singer only fractionally 
  starts as the dart-launcher sails down out of the shadows, and she casts a 
  small lopsided grin in the direction from which it had arrived before 
  turning her attention to Webb and submitting herself to his impromptu 
  instructions. "Yeah," she murmurs wryly as he helps her dim down the dark 
  russet fire of her hair and the pale pointed shape of her face. "I like it, 
  too." Once she's disguised herself as he's advised, she experimentally hefts 
  the launcher, studying it, and then with a smile of feral satisfaction she 
  clicks it into place on her wrist. To Webb's suggested tactics, she proffers 
  a level nod -- and with it seems to have shifted roles now. No longer just a 
  bar musician, no longer just a grown-up version of the lanky street kid 
  who'd scuttled through countless alleys on two different worlds, she now can 
  be taken for a fledgling warrior. That little curl remains to her mouth, 
  though, and as she steps back to choose her own position among the trees 
  that surround the glade where Jairen's made his home in the forest, she 
  murmurs, "Got it. Let's rumble."

Webb gives a faint nod to Shenner, then draws his own sidearm, and checks the 
  fire selector before he begins to move off into the bush. The spot that he 
  selects for himself is actually forward and to the right of Jairen, where a 
  tangle of inhospitable looking underbrush has grown up between two of the 
  ancient trees. Dropping into a crouch, he slowly advances into this tangle, 
  as if he sees some gap that few others would, before settling down flat 
  against the ground, seemingly melting away into the scrub.

Jairen continues in his perch in the tree, some 8 meters off the ground, 
  hidden in the semi-shadows.

And Shen... well, Shenner is neither a hardened Marine nor a two-centuries-old 
  Jaer warrior with preternatural grace and stealth to help her slide like a 
  shadow into the underbrush. But she _is_ that Jaer warrior's apprentice, and 
  Jairen's instruction has built upon the foundation laid when she'd thrown 
  herself through every simulator she could get access to in Trinumvira Base 
  during the war. With her hair rebraided up off her back and bound tightly 
  around her head, then hidden away beneath Webb's provided cloth, with her 
  face smudged and darkened, she can vanish almost as deftly as the two men. 
  Only the tiniest rustlings, possibly detectable by Jairen's sensitive ears, 
  betray her passage. But in moments she, too, is safely hidden and out of 
  sight.

And with that, there is little left to do but wait. Seconds become minutes, 
  minutes drag into a quarter of an hour, a half. Only when a third quarter of 
  an hour is almost done coming into being does a new sound intrude upon the 
  night noises of the glade: the distant whine of a skimmer's engine. Someone, 
  clearly, has taken the bait.

Webb's head turns slowly as he peers back over his shoulder towards the tree 
  that is Jairen's perch, then checks for the last location where he saw 
  Shenner. As the noise of the skimmer draws closer his thumb slowly edges the 
  fire selector of his blaster pistol off of 'safe'. For the moment, this is 
  the most significant movement that he'll dare to make.

Not long after the skimmer's engine sounds, it dies some distance away, out of 
  range to be spotted by the three who hide in the greenery. Several more 
  minutes pass. And then, at last, wary footfalls signal the approach of 
  individuals on their way to the glade. A light flashes somewhere out in the 
  undergrowth; another. And then, four figures slip into view. Three of them, 
  a Twi'lek and a Sarian who looks not unlike the man who'd been carrying the 
  dart-launcher, are carrying the glow-sticks; a third man, probably human, is 
  decked out in a pair of night-sight goggles. Still, though, even with the 
  goggles, he is easily identifiable once he speaks; his is the voice of a man 
  Jairen and Shenner have encountered before. The little thief who'd once 
  tried to rob the swordsman. Wil.
"Fan out," he can be heard to bark gruffly to his compatriots, in a low and 
  throaty rasp. "Keep the frekkin' lights pointed away from me, d'ya hear?"

Ahhh... the prey approaches. And it is about time, are the thoughts that run 
  through Jairen's mind as his eyes flash in the darkness once, scanning the 
  direction of the noise. However, not being in Webb or Shenner's position, he 
  is able to move quickly and quietly through the branches of the trees, and 
  does so. He smiles to himself as he spots those who have come seeking him 
  and his friends, waiting until they are mostly in the glade. "Greetings, 
  waelan." He suddenly says from his perch, now in a completely different 
  tree. His voice seems to come from nowhere and everywhere in the glade at 
  the same time. "I have been in your grounds and faced your challenges, now 
  you enter my domain..."

Though he would doubtlessly consider the NVG's sported by Wil to be a useful 
  thing, Webb has often found himself of making due without them for a variety 
  of reasons, to the point where he is quite comfortable (and capable) of 
  operating at night without them. Indeed, his unaided human eyes probably 
  have a fair share of advantages over Wil's fancy gear.
He studies the three figures, making note of which direction each of them is 
  travelling in... and feels compelled, for a moment, to hold his breath as 
  Jairen begins his speech.

Simultaneously, Shenner is amused by Jairen's theatrics while rolling her eyes 
  at his choice of dialogue. _Why, Jair, I never knew you had it in you,_ she 
  thinks, while scowling at the figures she can just make out from her vantage 
  point behind the tree she's chosen to hide her. She can spot one of their 
  foes... no, two. Her own vision is neither so trained as Webb's nor so acute 
  as Jairen's, so she makes due with fiercely focusing her attention on the 
  slightest motion or sound that might betray the approach of one of this gang 
  that's walking into Jairen's trap.

At those lyrically accented words drifting down out of the trees overhead, all 
  three men who've ventured into the clearing visibly start. All three of 
  them, it might be noted, are armed -- and in nervous reaction, the Twi'lek 
  almost involuntarily fires off a shot into the canopy of leaves. It misses 
  Jairen by a parsec or two -- but the echoes of the blaster shot tear out 
  into the night, ensuring that if any animals had been lingering in the area, 
  they're running for their lives or hiding now. "Idiot!" Wil hisses, swinging 
  around and rabbit-punching his compatriot in the gut. "Try aiming first!" 
  Then the apparent ringleader of the trio snaps a suspicious glance in all 
  directions, calling out sharply, "We know it's you, swordsman! How long you 
  think you're gonna hide from us, huh?"

From the time that Jairen began his speech, Webb has been set in motion... not 
  especially quickly, but certainly at quite a respectable speed for one who 
  is conforming himself to the ground in a fashion that would make most 
  species of snakes rather jealous. The distraction provided by Jairen 
  certainly assists quite heavily in Webb's attempts to get where he's going 
  stealthily. By the time Wil has answered Jairen's challenge with words of 
  his own, Webb has advanced well past the trio. Thumbing the fire selector 
  from stun to blast, and setting the power of his Kylan-3 to full power, he 
  rises up onto one knee and carefully takes aim from behind an ancient 
  tree-trunk... but not at any of the trio. Scarcely a second after Wil has 
  shouted his own challenge, Webb fires off first one double-tap... then a 
  second, followed by a piercing bang as the skimmer engine finally succumbs 
  to the relentless pounding of the Kylan-3. 'Now,' thinks Webb, 'We own them.'

"Where am I thief?" comes Jairen's reply to the wiry man's challange, his 
  voice still echoing off the trees. "Why, I am... right here." On the words 
  'right here' Jairen's voice becomes highly localized as he steps around a 
  tree, now on the ground abou 90 degrees around the glade from where he was. 
  How he covered so much ground so fast is anyone's guess. His sword is drawn 
  as he stands there for a moment, letting the three zero in on him for just a 
  second, long enough for them to realize he's there. "Come and get me." With 
  that, he takes a step back and around the tree again and is gone.

An inarticulate snarl of rage bursts out of Wil -- the noise of a man who's 
  spent months chasing a quarry, only to be taunted by it yet again. But even 
  as Jairen vanishes one more time, the boom of the destruction of the engine 
  causes all three men in the clearing to start, and visibly. "After him!" Wil 
  snarls to the nervous Twi'lek, even as he jerks a hand up to his mouth -- 
  and barks into the commlink at his wrist, "Find out what the hell just 
  happened and bring down whoever caused it!"

_Shiisa,_ thinks Shenner as she, too, is startled by the blast far off in the 
  distance and by Wil's order to parties obviously not at his side. _There's 
  -more- of them -- how many?_ But she has little time for pondering that 
  question, and as she catches sight of the Twi'lek pelting off into the trees 
  in Jairen's wake, resolve grips her. Time to try to take out one of the 
  remaining vermin, hey, especially if there's possibly more coming? She 
  inches forward, and then begins to cautiously circle the glade from within 
  her cover of trees, looking for a good shot at either Wil or his remaining 
  comrade.

Webb is fairly certain at this point that he has attracted a certain amount of 
  attention by knocking out the skimmer's propulsion unit, and apparently at 
  least part of its contragrav capabilities. The whole left half of the 
  vehicle has sagged to the ground, with a steady stream of smoke and an 
  occasional spark now testifying that this craft will not be going anywhere 
  soon. Instinctively he recalls the direction between his present position 
  and Shenner's, and starts to slip back into the bush. His path is far from a 
  bee-line towards Shenner, at least for the moment. He covers ground in short 
  bursts, roughly falling back towards the other two, zig-zagging between 
  positions of cover, and pausing at each to look back to watch for pursuers.

Now this, THIS is what Jairen has been trained to do all his life. 
  Forest-oriented, small unit eluding and combat. To this extent, he remains 
  purposely visible to his Twi'lek pursuer, leading the alien on a merry, and 
  surprisingly fast chase through the underbrush away from the glade. In one 
  could see the swordman's face it would be the look of a cat toying with a 
  small rodent. As he runs, Jairen slips his blade into his scabbard. Then, 
  suddenly, unexpectedly, all trace of him disappears as he leaps up, grabbing 
  a branch with both hands, and swings into the trees above him, climbing 
  quickly and noiselessly out of sight.

Oh, Webb has attracted attention, all right. Breaking twigs and a single 
  muttered curse coming through the foliage behind him attest to the presence 
  of one individual who'd come charging around from the other side of the 
  skimmer when he'd attacked it, to give chase to him as he made his retreat. 
  A suspicious shadow on a different heading behind him hints at another one 
  of Wil's party closing in, but tentatively, as if the one who casts that 
  shadow is ill at ease in this forest setting.

In the meantime, the Twi'lek fires off two more shots at Jairen, both of which 
  whiz past him in flares of red, but which wind up impacting upon tree trunk 
  and tree branch and setting off little sparks and flames when they strike. 
  Obviously, the alien is jumpy enough to begin with -- and Jairen's tactics 
  are adding confusion on top of his nervousness. As the silver-haired warrior 
  goes swinging up into the branches the Twi'lek skids to a stop, looking in 
  all directions before gingerly moving forward a few more steps. His weapon 
  at the ready, he peers anxiously into the shadowed, leafy canopy overhead.

And back in the glade, a small *snk* is the only sound when Shen's 
  captured-dart launcher delivers its projectile into the back of the man 
  who'd remained at Wil's side. Startlement washes over his face... and in 
  seconds he's staggering, blurting out words to his leader, but what he tries 
  to say comes out in an unintelligible slur. With that, he collapses. Wil 
  begins to curse, whirling to search the greenery from which the attack must 
  have been launched -- but then, as he catches sight of another shadow, he 
  abruptly smiles.

Shenner, elated by her 'kill', doesn't hear the footstep behind her until it's 
  a fraction too late... and then, there's a big burly arm suddenly encasing 
  her in an iron grip. Almost regretful, almost plaintive, Tegger murmurs into 
  her ear, "Now, miss, I really like how you sing purty, and I hate to do 
  this, but Wil's my friend!" A hard blow between her shoulderblades drives 
  all the breath out of her and sends her plummeting to her knees.

'Do nothing that is useless.' These words are sound doctrine for warriors who 
  often find themselves in the situation of having to extract great gains from 
  seemingly limited resources. As such, it is emphasised heavily in the 
  training of the Caspian Rangers. Webb isn't so much a student of this 
  doctrine - not as a Ranger at least - rather, he helped make it into one of 
  the unwritten laws on how a Ranger is to conduct himself in combat. As such, 
  it might perhaps seem like he's toying with his enemy... maybe even enjoying 
  it. Perhaps he is, but not for a moment longer than necessary. Once he has 
  determined that he is in fact being followed, Webb's switches from luring 
  the target, to trying to dispatch it as quickly as possible, with the 
  minimum of fuss... as such, his path through the bush begins to veer 
  sharply, until he is doubling back, parallelling the path which he took, 
  though much more cautiously and covertly than before, until finally he 
  settles upon a suitable spot where he can watch the ground which he so 
  recently crossed - slightly uphill, in thicket of waist-high grasses that 
  have grown up where a gap in the trees allowed the light to filter through. 
  Here he lays prone on his side, parallel to the trail, so as to mimimize the 
  displacement of the blades of grass around him, and waits for the sentient 
  who believes himself to be the one who is hunting.

The silverhaired alien who so resembles a human that it often fools many into 
  believing he is human is, however, quite a student of this doctrine. Indeed, 
  he has been for many years now. And the purpose of the chase into the forest 
  now shows its usefulness as the Twi'lek thug is completely and hopelessly 
  separated from his fellows. Slowly, silently, Jairen drops from a branch 
  directly behind the Twi'lek. With perhaps a small bit of sarcastic irony, 
  the Jaer warrior reaches out with his left hand and taps on the other 
  alien's shoulder lightly with his index finger, striking out with the rather 
  solid basket-hilt of his sword to the Twi'leks face in a savage blow, using 
  all of the considerable strength his small frame hides.

The first of Webb's pursuers is not long in obliging the Ranger's patience. 
  Soon enough, the figure comes into sight -- a woman, oddly enough, but 
  stocky of frame and wielding a light blaster rifle with at least some 
  measure of confidence. But she's edging along the thin game-track in 
  apparent oblivion to the man who lies in wait...

... while the Twi'lek, taken totally by surprise, has barely enough time to 
  blink when Jairen's blow connects with his face. He doesn't even have enough 
  time to look surprised before the galaxy goes dark around him and he goes 
  down in a heap of sprawled limbs and splayed head-tails...

... while Shenner, her head spinning, lashes out blindly towards the figure 
  behind her. Red dots of light swirl through her vision, and the edges of 
  _her_ universe go gray as she feels herself tugged out of her hiding place. 
  As she hears someone's -- whose? -- voice chortling gleefully, "Good, now 
  _we_ have an advantage over _them_. Tie her up, Tegger! Kinth -- keep an eye 
  out for the swordsman!" And as a blow from what might be someone's foot 
  connects with her ribcage, sending her slamming to the ground and darkening 
  her grey-edged vision to black.

Webb allows his quarry to only get so far along the path, watching all of the 
  while. Abruptly and unpleasantly, it is revealed quite 
  abruptly to the unfortunate woman that Webb was this close all along. 
  Abruptly, arms reach out from behind her, one snaking about, cupping the 
  underside of her jaw to silence any scream before it leaves her throat. A 
  sharp blow follows immediately thereafter, robbing the woman of her 
  consciousness. The attack, lasts mere seconds, before Webb melts back into 
  the brush like a ghost, taking the unconcious body with him. Once secured, 
  the woman's rifle and comlink are quickly removed from her person... both 
  items quickly become of interest to Webb as he mentally maps his way back to 
  Shenner's position, cursing himself for having strayed this far from her.

While the marine may be worried about his lady love, Jairen has no such 
  thoughts in his head. Shenner is well trained and familiar with this 
  territory. She should have no problems as long as she doesn't forget to not 
  get semi-cocky until AFTER all the enemies are dealt with. Something that 
  even Jairen himself has problems with from time to time it would seem. 
  Quickly and efficiently the swordsman looks through the the Twi'lek's 
  possessions, destroying any blasters the man might have, taking his comlink 
  and any bladed weapons. Then, he stands up, moves back to the trees, and 
  heads stealthily back towards the glade, leaving the Twi'lek bleeding from 
  his broken face bones on the floor of the forest.

Shenner's position, for the time being, is crumpled in a heap in the middle of 
  the clearing. Wil and Tegger rip the concealing cloth from the young 
  singer's head, tear it into strips, and use it to bind her hands. Nor does 
  it take long for Wil to produce a length of cord from his own pockets to 
  bind her feet. All the while the third man still in the clearing, Kinth, is 
  slowly circling the edge of it and flashing his glow-stick out into the 
  shadows, trying to catch a glimpse of the musician's companions. And Wil 
  calls out, his voice sharpening with undisguised glee, "Hey, swordsman! 
  Loooo-tenant! I got your songbird here, you two! Nice face she's got here -- 
  shame if somethin' was to happen to it!"

Perhaps that might not have been the smartest thing for Wil to announce right 
  now. It certainly wasn't good for the second 'hunter' who was after Webb. 
  This man is dealt with a touch less silently than the woman. The sudden 
  disappearance of his partner doesn't exactly set the poor thug at ease. 
  Every shadow suddenly seems to be a threat... every sound is Webb creeping 
  up on him to end his life in some horrid fashion. In a way, he's probably 
  expecting it when a hand reaches out to grasp the man's weapon arm by the 
  wrist, followed immediately by Webb's other hand driving sharply into the 
  thug's elbow, forcing it in directions it was never intended to bend, 
  producing the usual sound of bone shattering, before Webb twists the broken 
  arm, forcing the man to double over as Webb's knee drives up hard into his 
  ribs, silencing the moment of screams of anguish. A deft sweep of Webb's 
  foot take's the miscreant's legs out from underneath him, before Webb drives 
  the heel of his hand straight down into the fallen man's face.
This very nearly violated Jairen's initial instructions to only use nonlethal 
  force. A quick check of the man's caratoid pulse confirms Webb's suspicions 
  that the thug still lives. With that, Webb starts off through the bush, 
  advancing fast on Wil, Teggar, Kinth, and the captured Shenner.

"Vith..." is the quiet word uttered by Jairen, still high up in the trees, 
  upon the thief's announcement. While noone but Shenner on this side of the 
  galaxy might have an idea what that means, the tone of his voice, could 
  anyone hear it, reveals the nature. Swearing is swearing, no matter what 
  language. However, Wil's announcement did do one other thing, it has rather 
  angered the 250 year old swordsman. Shenner may be a capable person in all 
  respects but she is still under his oath of protection. Moving swiftly now, 
  he arrives at the glade. "What do you want, thief?" he asks from his perch, 
  voice again coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

As soon as Jairen speaks up, three faces in the glade whip their gazes up to 
  search him out. Shenner lies unconscious in the midst of the ruffians, her 
  slim figure curled uncomfortably on her side on the ground. Tegger's face 
  reflects a measure of consternation and maybe even a bit of embarrassment; 
  Kinth's, a flare of alarm. But Wil's features, even when half-concealed by 
  the NVG's, contort into a snarl of hatred and fury. "What do I _want_?" he 
  shrieks. "What do I want?! I want my pride back, you filthy foppish 
  scumsucking bastard! You -SHAMED- me!" A manic smile that has nothing to do 
  with mirth or pleasure slashes across the little man's features, and 
  abruptly, he lunges for Shenner's fallen form, hauling her up by a handful 
  of her shirt. "So I figure, I shame you right back! Maybe I oughtta start 
  with this little singer, huh? Been sharin' her with the Lieutenant? Think 
  she's got enough kick in 'er for me, huh, fop?"

Congratulate Wil, everyone... he just attracted the last kind of attention 
  anyone in this part of the slice wants. Right now, he's sitting right in the 
  aiming recticle of the blaster rifle which Webb now wields. For what it's 
  worth, Webb actually did consider using the stun setting... but well... stun 
  bolts aren't exactly 100 percent effective... and they're not quite as 
  accurate over range as a good old fashioned flesh-burning blaster bolt. At 
  300 yards, with a rifle that Webb was familiar with, he could easily put the 
  bolt straight through poor Wil's throat, as easily as clubbing a newborn 
  nerf. This rifle isn't exactly one Webb has had all that much time to 
  familiarise himself with... on the other hand, he's also far closer than 300 
  yards. Besides, in a certain sense, he really would like to take Wil alive, 
  if it becomes a possibility. As Wil is attempting to haul Shen up, Webb 
  calmly draws his finger straight back against the trigger, unleashing a 
  single blaster bolt which tears straight through the shoulder of arm which 
  Wil dared to use to lay his hand upon Shenner.

Almost as if it was planned, in the aftermath of Webb's marksmanship, Jairen 
  appears out of the middle of nowhere, his sword in his right hand, vibro 
  dagger in his left. And this time it is turned on. Brining his blade down 
  upon the barrel of Kinth's weapon, he neatly removes that weapon from active 
  use. He then promptly pins the poor man to the nearest tree via a 
  vibrodagger shoved through the shoulder and into a tree. Next he advances on 
  the still standing Tegger. 'Never attack out of anger' may be on of his main 
  maxims, but even the long lived have their limits. Jairen gets a few feet 
  away from Tegger, pointing the sword at his throat. "Drop... your... 
  weapon..."

"Aiiiieeegh!" The scream of pain bursts out of Wil as that blaster bolt bursts 
  into his shoulder, scorching the cloth of his clothing and the flesh beneath 
  it. It doesn't sever his arm from his shoulder, but it's a fair bet that the 
  man's not going to be able to use that limb for a while. He goes flying 
  forward with the impact, falling in fact over the prone bard and pinning her 
  to the ground once again as he collapses. For just a moment his shoulder 
  actually _steams_, and for just a moment his flesh gives off an alarming 
  crinkling noise from there before he goes silent where he lies, dropped into 
  merciful oblivion almost immediately.

Impaled to the tree, Kinth doesn't faint yet, but the man looks about ready to 
  do so -- and so does Tegger, as Jairen's blade points straight at his 
  throat. Arguably the biggest man in this party of six, Tegger is also 
  arguably the stupidest and most easily frightened... and now, terror washes 
  across a face that for all his size is not particularly old. He may not even 
  be much older than Shenner. The big fellow promptly throws down his own 
  blaster, eyes going enormous and round and teary, and he starts mumbling 
  frantically, "I done what he told me, Wil's my friend, I just done what he 
  told me, h-h-h-he's my fr-friend..."

Webb now rises up from his cover at the periphery of the glade, green-faced, 
  dirty, and grim. His newly aquired rifle is still aimed at Wil, held at 
  shoulder level. His finger only loosely rests against the trigger now, and 
  even this is probably merely a precaution. With one combat booted foot, he 
  not so gently nudges Wil off of Shenner. Perhaps Webb is having a brush with 
  temptation to pull the trigger one more time, and put a second bold straight 
  through Wil's brain matter. But, no... all in all, Webb is pretty civilised 
  for a man who could easily be classified as a walking weapon. Seeing that 
  Wil isn't about to get up, he slowly kneels down at Shenner's side, and lays 
  the rifle upon the ground... within easy reach of himself, of course.

Wrath. If one word could describe the burning behind Jairen's bright blue 
  eyes, that would be it. Wrath so hot that even the recent Emperor would have 
  a challenge meeting it in all his Dark Side fury and power. "Then I suggest, 
  oaf, that you locate new friends post haste. For if you or your associates 
  /ever/ attempt anything like this again or harm her, you ne'bel'la 
  vith'karliik, I will personally see to it that you suffer the slowest and 
  most painful demise that can be fathomed by your insignificant minds. Now, 
  get out of my forest." With that, he leaves Shenner in the capable care of 
  Webb. He turns, pulls the dagger from Kinth's shoulder (with little regard 
  for the man), cleans it off and disappears into the forest once again.

Kinth, unregarded by Webb, lets out a husky whimper of pain and sinks down to 
  his knees by the tree, one hand coming up to clutch at his wounded 
  shoulder... while Tegger, his blockish face drained white with fear, just 
  stares at Jairen as the swordsman issues his order, wearing a look typically 
  described on Tatooine as 'like a womprat caught in the running lights of an 
  oncoming landspeeder.' Only when the silver-haired warrior takes his 
  dramatic leave does the big man, the only unwounded member of Wil's gang 
  left, turn and abruptly bolt without comment or preamble off into the trees, 
  running as fast as humanly possible.

In the meantime, as Wil's form is shoved off her, Shenner can be seen to scowl 
  faintly, her nose crinkling as if in reaction to some foul order. Though he 
  eyes do not open, her head turns a bit.

Webb slings the newly aquired rifle over his shoulder as he kneels down at 
  Shenner's side. His pistol has been returned to its holster, where it should 
  be easily reachable, should it be required to use it again anytime soon. 
  With one hand, he reaches down to brush his fingers across Shenner's cheek 
  in a manner of tenderness that is in dramatic contrast to the ferocity 
  exhibited against Wil's gang. With the other hand, he pulls out his comlink 
  again, and opens a channel, "Cunha... Webb here. I uh..." Webb peers about 
  at the carnage that remains from the battle, "I need a bit of a favour."

With no more noise than another soft groan, Kinth keels over onto his side and 
  quietly bleeds where he's fallen -- and as for Wil, he's not moving again 
  any time soon. The man Shen shot with the dart-launcher still lies prone 
  under the influence of the drug with which the weapon had been loaded. Of 
  the four prone figures in the clearing, then, Shen seems to be the one most 
  likely to rouse... and as the Marine's fingers grace her cheek, her eyelids 
  flutter a little. "Jon," she croaks, and then tries to sit up all at once in 
  a surge of alarm. "Jon! Jair...?"

"We had..." Webb's arm abruptly snakes about you to clutch you as you sit up 
  abruptly, "A bit of a brush with a local gang. They kinda came gunning for 
  myself and a coupla friends. You..." Webb hesitates as he looks over to 
  Kinth, "You're probably gonna want to see that these guys end up where 
  they're supposed to... several of them are gonna need medical attention." 
  Whatever the answer is, that is more or less between Webb and 'Cunha' - the 
  earpiece of his comlink doesn't exactly produce much in terms of stray 
  sound. "He's alright..." he whispers to you, after pulling the mic of the 
  comlink away from his lips.

"Ooogh," mutters Shenner, eloquence not being high on her list of easily 
  achieved behaviors at the moment. "Get the number of that skimmer that 
  clocked me?" One hand comes up to cradle her cheek while the other curls 
  about the place where Wil had kicked her, but with both her hands occupied 
  she's not left with one to support herself for balance. Gratefully she sags 
  against your arm, even as she tries to squint blearily about herself.

"Cunha, I've can pick up the nav signals from Union Starport tower. From the 
  looks of things, we're about 6.1 km from their signal, bearing 72.1 degrees. 
  That puts us..." Webb's arm tightens just a little about your midsection... 
  not enough to squeeze anything in a painful fashion, but enough to keep you 
  from flopping right over onto the dirt again as he reaches for a datacard 
  map, "You have one of our f/o charts? Grid reference would be Bravo-1-4 mark 
  6-6-3-8-3-1. They have a vehicle out here that's still hot. It'll show up 
  nice and bright on your scopes."

"This mean you're callin' us a cab?" Shenner mutters, leaning her head 
  sideways in search of your shoulder while she tries to make sense of your 
  end of the conversation going through the commlink. Having that shoulder 
  handy lets her free up a hand, though, as she considers the advantages of 
  trying to get up versus staying exactly where she is.

The manner in which Webb clutches you would seem to indicate that for the 
  moment, he's in favour of you staying right where you are... at least until 
  you no longer appear to be on the verge of falling right over again, 
  mouthing out the words, "How are you feeling?" in a low whisper.

The singer shifts her head just enough to squint blearily up at you -- or at 
  least to try to. What she gets, though, is mostly a look at your jawline. 
  "Get the number of that skimmer that clocked me?" she mutters back, making a 
  face that suggests the question is _mostly_ but not entirely rhetorical.

Webb peers down at you for a few seconds as he contemplates your answer, then 
  kisses you softly upon the forehead before he pushes the mic of his comlink 
  back into place, "Cunha... if it's not too much trouble, I think we're going 
  to need a lift out of here. Not really sure just how much walking my friend 
  is up to right now."

"I can walk," Shenner immediately protests, her brow crinkling in that way she 
  tends to get when she's just had her fifth Corellian Suicide and is claiming 
  'I'm not drunk!'

"Yes... but do you want to?" comes Webb's immediate answer as he peers down at 
  you, running a finger lightly along your cheek as he angles his face down in 
  an attempt to achieve some sort of eye contact.

Mrmm. Good question, that. Shenner grimaces a bit more at the thought of a 
  two-klick-plus hike. Certainly she trudged that far on Mandalore under far 
  worse conditions... but if there's anything the young singer's learned since 
  _that_ particular disastrous little adventure, it's how to admit when she's 
  not up to par. She more or less manages to meet your gaze, her mouth 
  quirking into a half-hearted little half-smile, half-smirk. "I ain't fond of 
  the concept right now," she grudgingly confesses.

"Cunha is trustworthy," Webb explains as he awaits the sound of the 
  airspeeders that are doubtlessly on their way, "Him and I go back a ways. He 
  used to be a Marine before he joined the security services. He kinda got 
  messed up pretty bad in the Second Zealot War, or police action, or 
  incident, or whatever the hell they call it. They had to do a fair bit of 
  work to put him back together. He kinda just needed to go on to other things 
  after that."

Not really knowing what else to say to _that_, not exactly certain if she can 
  think of anything suitable anyway with the aches in her ribs and between her 
  shoulderblades and at the base of her skull, Shenner just murmurs, "Oh..." 
  And after a moment she adds in plaintive tones, "You, um, you okay?"

Webb nods his head slowly as he murmurs back to you, "Yeah, I'm alright 
  hon..." with no small amount of reassuring warmth in his voice. His brows 
  furrow afterwards as he murmurs, "Although... I shoulda been watching you 
  closer. Wasn't very Marine-like of me to leave you hanging there..."

Shenner's expression softens, while with a bit of concentrated effort she 
  straightens herself up into a better position to look you in the eye. Just 
  to be sure, though, she peers around the clearing to make sure no one else 
  is about to jump her -- and the unconscious bodies in her immediate vicinity 
  make her blow out a sharp soft breath. But once she looks back to you, her 
  mouth's quirked again in self-directed embarrassment. "We divvied up the 
  plan fair and square," she gruffly contradicts. "Seemed pretty Marine-like 
  to me, even if I did get clobbered by the other side."

Webb mutters back to you, "Mm. Maybe. But we really coulda handled that better 
  if we'd been watching each other a little more closely..." Webb sighs and 
  shakes his head a little, demonstrating more than adequately just who a 
  Marine's toughest critic is. Peering upwards towards the night sky, he 
  murmurs to you, as he catches glimpses of patches of starry sky through the 
  forest canopy and the spotty clouds, "You know," a a faint smirk crosses his 
  expression as the soft hum of turbines indicates the approach of airspeeders 
  from the constabulatory, "You make a pretty interesting date, Shen Veery."

Green eyes pick up enough of a twinkle to show that despite the force with 
  which Tegger must have clobbered her, the redheaded singer is bounding back 
  well enough. She flashes you a bigger lopsided grin as she drawls, "Just 
  wait till you see my encore." Then, though, she catches the sound of the 
  airspeeders coming -- and indeed, it doesn't take long for the cavalry to 
  arrive, flying overhead to scan the immediate area and winding up landing at 
  last near the now-crippled vehicle the gang had brought out here. Nor does 
  it take very long for those who flew those speeders out here to disturb the 
  forest quiet to show themselves, hail the two of you, and begin the work of 
  gathering up the casualties. Shen, once again on her feet, brushes off any 
  offers of medical assistance for herself... and while Wil and his remaining 
  compatriots are bundled off towards their fates, she hangs back to peer off 
  uncertainly into the woods where Jairen had gone. But at last she is easily 
  enough beckoned to her ride home, and readily enough she settles into stride 
  beside you, tired but proud of the victory.
Until, at any rate, she gets about six yards into the woods and realizes she's 
  forgotten something. The last thing to break the peace of the glade is 
  Shenner's anguished howl:
"Jon! Where the kark's my _bantha_?!"

[End log.]