#nulluse

[holonetdaily]

So General Yoda eats frogs, right? No problem, species needs and all that. BUT I recently discovered that the Jedi Temple has a special budget category for "frog infestation problems", because the green troll will let them lose to hunt 'em and then not catch them all.

holonet daily thanks you for coming forward.

can you estimate the annual financial impact of these alleged frog related incidents? our accounting department is particularly interested in this detail

[vizslajetii]

@nulluse asked: reverse + 🗡' for receiver to hold a blase to your muse's throat

Tarre does not consider himself a particularly violent person: structural failing that it might be on a warlord, he likes to keep the peace where he can, and turn his might into battle when he cannot. He is, however, a pragmatist, and sometimes the reasonable answer is a blade to the throat, because people do tend to get the idea that he's serious when the little beskar knife comes out.

Ideally, he'd be using the darksaber for this, but he's yet to recover it, and so he has the knife he always carries around, for emergencies. This, and the Force, for all he's not yet using the latter.

"Now, now." He tells Jaing, and this time he lets the menace clear in his voice, and in his very presence in the Force, and lets it carry enough that a non-Force-sensitive will fell the shape of it. An old trick, once meant to calm disquiet, now turned to more Mandalorian usages. "I have questions, you have answers, and you are going to come with me." He tells the other. "I can be civilized about it, or I can choose not to."

He'd been pleasant enough. He'd been kind enough. And then he'd heard about Order 66, and he was done playing nice.

[lostserenno]

@nulluse asked: "You keep saying you're not a hero. Tell me; what exactly is it that you believe a hero to be? "

"A fantasy." Is his answer, grim and clear. "A concept, at most."

And he's more certain of it now than he used to be: he feels the Force and the way it has shifted in the Galaxy, the way a war has wounded it and them all.

"It's all well and good to try and be a hero. To aspire to be one. But the moment we start calling people heroes we start losing perspective, and we have too little of that these days."

And he's not particularly certain that the Jedi, right now, with their army and their dependency on the Senate, particularly qualify as heroes, these days. Heroic as some of their actions might be.

But Yan himself, for all that he's trying, is not forgetting who is on the other side of the conflict.

[griefdestined]

"I'd fucking ask for them..." || continued from here || @nulluse

While Obi-Wan's intentions were pure, he perhaps should have taken a better look at who exactly was nursing the alcohol while watching the news reels. Instead, he had followed the thread of pain that sparked and wanted to offer his comforts.

That decision effectively slapped him in the face as he felt the hot flash of anger burst in the Force as soon as the words left his lips. Regret flashes over Obi-Wan's expression as he takes a physical step back at the blow of Jaing's emotions.

Usually, Obi-Wan was so good with people. His natural affinity for empathy, even without the Force, was both his strength and weakness. His greatest challenge as a Jedi, at the end of the day. Taking a centering breath, he had to remind himself that Jaing was grieving and did not have the proper tools to do so healthily.

How can Obi-Wan fault him for that?

"My apologies," he acquiesces with a slight bow of his head. He turns to leave and then stops himself after a moment before turning back. For a moment, it looks like he's going to change his mind as the possible consequences of his next words flutter before him like a book, but then he makes his decision.

"I have a bottle of Corellian in my quarters...you and your men will most likely put it to better use than I." It's a peace offering, but more than that, it's an offer of contraband. It's not a General speaking to a soldier. This is Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Jedi offering. The offer can be received well or blow up in his face.

Obi-Wan doesn't know Jaing well enough to be able to know, but he figures he doesn't really have much to lose. The soldier doesn't like him anyway.

[tragedywoven]

from here || @nulluse

Shifting her weight to her right foot, Zu'elah crosses her arms over her chest and raises a brow. She takes a moment to assess whether she actually wants to join him at the table. Without a current job, she's on an open schedule, as she likes to call it, so there is no problem there.

The issue is Jaing.

Does he even want company right now? Then again, he noticed her first and called out to her as she passed by.

With a roll of her eyes, she shakes her head and smiles to herself, clearly amused.

"You're overestimating how much I think about you," she retorts with a smile as she sits in the chair next to him with her drink. Zu'elah was content to sit at the bar earlier since all tables were taken, but hey, she's not going to refuse a little more elbow room. Despite the present company, a man whom she doesn't really know all that much, simply in passing.

She trusts herself enough not to consider him a threat.

[slthlsms]

[ @nulluse ]

Kun looked at him. Studying him. He's seen so many men like him after he left Yavin Four. His gaze going over an ocean's worth of clones for a pointless war that turned out to be a game of chess. And the bastard Palpatine was the puppeteer pulling the strings on the whole thing.

Pathetic. But he had more respect for the Jedi now than he ever did four thousand years ago. His smile was small as he studied the clone closely.

"An ARC Trooper..tell me. How have you escaped your duties?" A curious question. One he was itching to know. Many clones. Each one holding a different story from the last as the same person died again and again. They were all the same person and yet. They were different from one another. Taking a step towards him he cocked his head to the side." What name have you chose for yourself?"

Strands of his long hair hit his face as the dark circles under his own eyes showed a hint of exhaustion. He may have looked like an ancient Jedi. But he was far from the man you wanted to come across. But he remained unmoving. He wouldn't attack unless the former Trooper happened to play hard ball.

[cinderedgrief]

Send 🌑 for my muse to comfort your muse after a nightmare! || @nulluse

A strange sound pulls Bron'ig from his sleep, eyes flashing open in an instant and on alert. The number of immediate threats and possible exits is in his mind before he truly even remembers where he is.

Oh yeah.

The ginger's head snaps to the side, looking at the clone next to him on the bed. He will have time to unpack this later; for now, he needs to address the nightmare. Bron'ig hesitates, unsure if physical touch will be better, a mind suggestion, or just speaking aloud.

Well, he's a soldier, right?

"Ke hoyi." Bron'ig barks out the command, hoping that making some soldier instinct flare will wake Jaing up, while the Mando'a will subconsciously make him at ease.

If not, Bron'ig might just have a situation on his hands.

[mandomirtagev]

Tal'onidir par Tal’din

@nulluse​ liked this for a starter

Mirta scrubbed blood off the visor of her helmet one-handed with the edge of her blastcloak as she walked out of the now blaster-riddled medical research complex. Her other hand, of course, held her blaster -- a one-owner-from-new upgraded EE-3 BlasTech carbine. There were a few more spatters of various organic fluids (mostly blood, some viscera) decorating the various plates of her armor, but they weren’t impeding her vision so she ignored them. Eventually she’d have to clean it properly, but now wasn’t the time to stop for such niceties.

She looked past the countdown clock in the corner of her HUD and spotted a familiar figure in armor similar to hers, albeit more subdued in coloration. “Su cuy'gar, Jaing,” she said, giving her somewhat-uncle a polite nod of greeting. “No luck on my end. You?”

Her casual tone belied the churning in Mirta’s guts. She couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel responsible, for this mess. It was from her that Jacen Solo had derived the nanovirus currently infesting their homeworld, after all; her blood that had banished all who shared her blood from Mandalore. That included not just Boba Fett, Mirta’s ba’buir and Solo’s intended target, but every surviving clone or descendant who also claimed that bloodline.

If Mirta was thus perhaps a bit obsessive over her quest to cure that nanovirus, it was surely understandable. Unfortunately she had run into another dead-end (and had consequently been forced to leave rather a lot of dead-ends behind her) which meant more bad news, more time wasted, more guilt to fester -- unless Jaing had managed to turn-up a miracle.

Mirta had never been one to give much credence to “miracles.”