She'd had a strange feeling all day. Never sure what it was it had her thinking on the past and other strange feelings. Thinking on the past directed her legs to walking to somewhere from the past. Which found her walking along a treacherous floor, just half of what it had once been.

Saphs was a dangerous mess. Not a place of safety for sure, unless you found a hidey hole somewhere. It was a memory of Bellionas' past.

And Sholua's.




--

OOC - Expecting One Other.

The whole system felt awful. The scars of the Clone Wars, and the occupation of the Empire. The Karkarodon drew his cloak tight around him. The ruins were a pain to navigate, and the darkness and fear clouding everything set Phroth on edge.

He had a job to do, one suited to his skills, and the Force had brought him here.

She looked out over the collapsed half of the club. At the poles and the dance floor, both of which she knew very well, both now and in their . . . original construction. This place had been good to her for a while and . . . then . . .

She dodged quickly to the left, ducking low behind a half rubbled wall. This feeling, it wasn't quite the same but it was like the times she'd avoided an Inquisitor by a thread.

He entered in through the door, the shattered remnants of it dashed along the floor. His large frame ducked down, bringing the scanner goggles down onto his head. Letting the settings adjust to the low light. His hands remained free, though anybweapon was easily grabbed.

Phroth hoped it wouldn't come to that. His maw tightened, while he began to look about the dilapidated club.

"What a mess."

She agreed. Perhaps not in the way Phroth meant though. She scanned the area planning her escape routes in case this turned bad. As yet unaware of who or what this was, she waited.

He stood in the middle of the debris, looking about. The Executioner knelt down, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to push that darkness he felt out of his mind. The interlude passes, and he stands again, looking about the broken club.

His bare, webbed feet, moved across gently. Heavily calloused, the claws at the end clacking softly against the floor. His cloak was fully drawn back now, his broad frame now more visible. The goggles enhancing the details of the dark places he looked towards.

Tschad!

Sholua swore mentally. A Karkoro . . . . Karkado . . . a sharkman. This wasn't good news. It had to be an Inquisitor, it just had to be.

She scooted very quietly back a few feet to a larger piece of cover and got control of her breathing before she gave herself away. At the last second her foot caught a sharp piece of rubble but she stopped moving before any sound was made.

Tschad, tschad, TSCHAD . . . . this is bad, bad, bad . . . . got to get away. Away, fast.


--

Hidey-ho from the big 'bad' sharkman: 4eA+3eD 3 successes, 1 threat Waiting on Phroth to see if he wants the Threat for anything other than 1 Strain.

(Nope, just the strain)

Phroth didn't notice the movement, instead turning to investigate another part of the club. His senses when reached out through the Force were more suited to one on one battles to the death. His practice with reaching out was... less than stellar. His hand rested onto a fallen part of the bar, the HUD of the goggles highlighting some things.

"Damn this System... everything still feels like it's clouded." He tsked to himself, shaking his head.

So . . . did the Mirialan stay as quiet as a chadra-fan or flee as fast as a startled lepi. Fear was beginning to build. Fear of Imperial Inquisitors. Fear of capture. Fear of Sharks.

Tschad tschad tschad tschad tschad tschad. Go away. Go find nothing at all on another planet you scale headed thug. Gogogogogogogogogogogogo!

For now she chose chadra-fan.

"Hmmm..." Phroth was careful, not wanting disturb too much of the ruined building. He wasn't an engineer, but he knew that destroyed, ruined buildings had a bad habit of collapsing on themselves. And he didn't particularly feel like digging himself out.

"Kriff." He snorted the word out harshly, shoulders slumping slightly. A hand slapped down on the broken bar, the sound echoing in the empty room. "I can't still my mind. Maybe everything here is just..." another sigh, and the Karkarodon turned.

"Needle in a haystack, finding any survivors." He grumbled to himself, making his way across the room, starting towards the door.

The hand slapping down had made her jump. She ducked back down, hoping she hadn't exposed herself.

Just go away . . . please. Tschad . . . why now? why here?

The hand withdrew. "Dead end." Phroth muttered, and there was something else to his voice when he said it. Not just that infrasonic frequency that set chills down ones spine, but... sadness? Disappointment?

He exited the ruined club. The hunt would have to expand.

It would be almost an hour later when Sholua finally moved. Retreating down to the lower city residential zone as fast as she could.