Log:Kilian Blitz: Fate of Lord Harrow

Lord Ban is given a task to investigate Lord Harrow.

OOC Date: Jan. 7, 2022
Location: Kilia IV
Participants: Kiko Alde (NPC), Caysa Bheylin (NPC), First Ranger Colvan (NPC), Lord Harrow (NPC), Ban Iskender, Sorin Endesea (Mentioned), Aryn Cortess

The Tantive IV occupies one of the least populated districts of the underground city. In a darker quarter, where there aren't as many guards, or citizens for that matter, roaming the stone pathways. Behind the ship is a vast darkness, and not the sort of darkness that captures sound, it is lost in its depth, consumed and empty. At the other side of the ship, Firelight, the city itself, glimmers with brazier flames and roaming soldiers carrying torches that light the way. At every point during the day, fire is burning, casting its glare upon the exterior hull of the Alderaanian vessel.

At first, the Alderaanian presence was considered a curiosity, that was until the blonde witch defeated the Kilian Rangers, the greatest sorcerer warriors the Kingdom had to offer. According to the people, the guards were sent to march against the witch and her forces, but they too were slaughtered for the effort. Now, no one came to visit this quarter for fear of the Alderaanians and their blue cloaked warriors.

It has been two days since Aryn's return to the ship following her capture, and she's been kept to her chambers and in bed. The ship's doctor, although helpful, was proving incompetent in his search for a treatment to cure her ailment. Consciousness fades in and out for the Princess, and the divide between dreams and reality were beginning to blend for her. At present, Aryn is in a semi-conscious state staring at one of the ship's portholes where the orange firelight from outside flickers against its pane. She lays in her bed to make it easy for her caretaker (Caysa) to tend to her when she slipped into her unconscious state. The Doctor pulls her arm from beneath the blanket and presses a needle into the vein at her elbow to begin drawing blood, for the fifth time.

It is not Caysa who enters, when the chime sounds and the door slides open, but instead Ban. The Iskender offers in evenly-voiced greeting (although Aryn's greater sense of the gentleman can glimpse a sharp tension beneath his steady demeanor), "Might my Lady have use of a further pair of hands?" A short, playful bow (forced) and he steps to assist the blood draw, should she wish it. "How fare you in the present moment?"

When the door opens, Aryn has to look to see who it is. Her senses have dulled as a result of this ailment, and it leaves her paler than normal. Even her lips have lost the rose color they regularly held, and dark circles shade her eyes indicative of restless sleep. "..yes." She says softly, abandoning the needle because she can't make out where her vein is. Tired eyes turn to Ban, watching him bow and draw near. A small huff of amusement and she reaches out with a cold hand to find his. "..no one tells me of what happened. They think me frail, and breakable. I wish to know ere this poison takes me again." It was not an answer to how she fared, but it was the question on her mind.

Ban Iskender accepts the needle in one hand, takes hers in his second and draws her fingers to his lips, green eyes remaining keen on Aryn's throughout the movement. His eyes go closed only for a moment as the kiss to her fingers lingers, and then the gentleman looks to her arm, positioning it so that he can survey the best place to draw more blood as he answers. "Tell me the last you can remember, and I shall answer as best I may as to what has transpired, since." He is no doctor, but Ban is trained enough in basic medical procedures to manage drawing blood smoothly. A binder is drawn around her arm above the elbow to help the veins swell, the spot on her arm is cleaned quickly, his fingertip taps at the side of her elbow in advance of the needle going in to distract her senses, and the brief sting is felt.

Aryn does not feel the sting of the needle, it fails to register on her face, even. Still, the puncture is made and the dark presence of blood trickles into the vial until it is full, and warm. Aryn turns her gaze from Ban to look back at the window and tries to trace back through her own memory what happened. It's disorienting, arriving in small flashes before her minds eye. She recounts in small portions at first, trying to use her words to force her brain to focus on what coincided from her memory.

"Ser Sorin.. and several of our guard were outside. We were surrounded.. overwhelmed. I did what I could to defend the ship, but they were too close, and I had given my lightsaber to Caysa.. in case I was to be captured. I took aim with my blaster, then.." Aryn glances to Ban. "..I only see flashes then. I remember feeling cold; so. Cold. I remember chanted words..and the sounds of.." Aryn's expression becomes more focused. "..clanging metal, like swords and the discharge of blasters. I recall being carried, but it was dark all around." Aryn looks back to Ban with a tear forming under one eye that trickles into the valley of that eye's scar. The tear follows the dark line to her cheek. "And.. from there, it is all foggy. The dreams I have.. they are vivid. I am losing track of real and.." She trails off, reaching for Ban again as if to test for herself that he was real.

Ban Iskender nods once as he seals the vial, and affixes a small staunch to the site of the needle prick. As wan as she is, he is hesitant to see her lose a drop more than needed. "You were betrayed, and drugged. The native rangers absconded with you, intent on performing some profane ritual. Lady Kiko- may her blades never dull and her aim never falter- and Sir Sorin learned your location, and went admirably to your rescue. The rangers are all slain." A short breath drawn. "I shall spare you the political minutiae until you are more within your wits, but suffice to say, a native Lord Harrow has directed this treachery, and seeks the surrender of his world to those beasts who would see it razed and robbed of life. I shall be seeking an audience with the gentleman and his monarch, shortly."

"..I see. It aligns with my visions.. or.. memories. They intended terrible acts. Share my..heartfelt gratitude to the Knights who helped me in my moment of weakness. I am certain they were not fortunate to come away unscathed. The Rangers, for all their posturing, were elegant warriors. Victory defeated them; they grew too accustomed.. to power." Aryn coughs during the pauses of her statement, and by the end of it she lays her head back and sighs, pained. "I have a task for you, Lord Ban. Whatever is in my veins, it is elusive.. alive. A parasite. I believe its conception was in the laboratory of either the rangers, or this Lord Harrow. Find its source, and bring it to me.. so I might cure myself, and return.." Another cough. "..to your side."

"Tis true: failure can be the greatest teacher," Ban paraphrases master Yoda. "Bereft of its wisdom, complacency and arrogance take root." A slow breath is drawn as she gives him this task. "It shall be done, my Lady. The departed rangers had sought some 'rite of cleansing', which causes me to suspect the source of this affliction to be the Lord Harrow. Still, no stone shall lie unturned until my Lady is Herself, once again."

"Lord Harrow's failure is unrealized as of yet. You will teach him, and others will learn. Do not use this.." Aryn's hand falters but lifts to rest upon the swept hilt of his crafted weapon. "Although they are a fearful people, we must choose to be better, or to them, we will seem no different than the technological terrors that plague this system. If it comes to violence," Aryn coughs again and relaxes her head back, closing her eyes. "..then let them taste steel." Aryn grows weaker as something causes a great deal of pain inside her body. "B-best.. be about it.. then." The last word fades and Aryn slips into another drug induced slumber, her hand hanging upon the elegant swept hilt of his lightsaber still clipped above the empty scabbard at his side.

Ban Iskender nods once to Aryn's words, a slow exhale through the nose as he watches her awareness fade. The gentleman takes her hand from where it rested on his sabre hilt and once again draws it to his lips, before composing both the lady's hands above her stomach, drawing the blanket up to her neck. "As my Lady commands," he voices, quietly.

The door slides open to reveal another female member of staff, this one young. She stands only slightly taller than Aryn would, with dark hair and matching eyes and a fair smile. "My..my Lord.." She greets, fashioning a curtsy. "..with your permission, I will see to Her Highness until your return. Is there any other commands you wish to issue ere you depart, sir?" Caysa looks up to Ban when addressing him, though sheepishly stands to one side to allow him the room to pass by should that be his priority.

Ban Iskender gestured with one hand for Caysa to rise from her curtsey and offers the sealed vial of blood to the young woman before offering any further answer. "Do inform Sir Sorin and Lady Alde that I seek word with them, ere I depart. For the rest, no. Her Highness' orders stand as they were issued."

"My Lord, Sir Sorin is not available. I am not certain where he has gone, but Lady Alde is present. I shall inform her immediately," Caysa dips again and backtracks only after accepting the vial of Aryn's blood. She holds that between both hands, to shield it from accident. Some time later, the Lady of Alde returns with Caysa in tow. Kiko is absent armor this day and wrapped in robes that do not cause discomfort for her wounds. Her shoulder is clearly among the list of ailments she received in her recent combat service. "I hear you wish to speak with me, Captain.--" She turns her gaze to Aryn, who by this point, quietly slumbers with beads of sweat forming along her brow. Concern knits Kiko's brow, and her expression softens with obvious concern. "..How is she?" She asks, less business like but not lacking decorum.

"She remains unwell," Ban admits frankly. He credits Kiko with enough familiarity with Aryn to address the sleeping princess as 'She', rather than 'Her Highness'. "To be robbed of wits is doubly cruel for a mind such as Hers." A drawn breath. "I have been tasked with recovering a sample of the parasite which afflicts our Lady. Whilst I suspect its origin, I recall you had spoken of the unlamented rangers conducting a rite of purification; can the Commander recall any such samples which might have been drawn forth or otherwise held by those well defeated folk?"

Kiko takes a moment to consider the question, replaying the events of that night and ensuing battle. "I took inventory of the dead once Aryn was back in the safety of her armor. Among the effects, I found only weapons, and tools of their trade. We searched the premises, too, looking for a means which they concocted this substance but found only berths for sleeping, a place for cooking and eating, and the largest cavern for their rituals, and training I presume."

Kiko looks back to Ban to say, "I suspected it was something she ingested while visiting the palace to speak with the Prince, Vah. Maybe a drink, or something of food. Prince Vah was apprehended and lays in similar condition. It may explain, too, how Aryn was subdued during the fighting."

Ban Iskender nods once. "I had wondered the same," he nods to Kiko's mention of Aryn being subdued after so soundly defeating their best warriors, prior. The lady's speculation as to an ingested poison earns a second nod. "Such would explain much. The culprit seems plain, in such case, as does the next step required to procure this noxious substance." Another slowly drawn breath as he adds, "I cannot claim any surprise in your admirable conduct thus far, Commander. Still, you have served with most estimable distinction. In Her lucid moments, Aryn wished you to know Her gratitude. And Sir Sorin, as well."

"Tis the duty of a Knight, sir. We serve, and will always be of service. Say the word, and my sword joins yours. Violence is unbecoming, but its finality in this place," She says, looking about as if to say Kilia IV, " ..brings a particular measure of comfortable satisfaction; at least where the Lord Harrow's allies are concerned." Kiko, unable to take the sight of Aryn's discomfort, turns to Caysa. "See to Her Highness' comfort, Miss Caysa. She looks stifled."

"At once, my Lady." The sheepish girl squeezes by the two nobles to see to Aryn. Kiko turns her dark gaze to Ban's. "Do you intend to carry out your task alone, sir?"

Ban simply nods to the first sentiment. It's truth is so apparent as to require no words of his to validate. As to violence bringing a satisfying finality, "I was instructed to seek a.. non violent resolution," Ban states with decorum almost fully concealing how unlikely he considers that to be. "As to solitude, I had considered undertaking such alone, though if the Commander has counsel to the contrary, I will hear it."

"No council, my Lord, only caution. These people are more cunning than they appear. I have learned harsh lessons both times service has required me to draw arms and fight. Be careful. I pray to the Mother for your safe return, sir." Kiko stands to one side allowing Ban the space he needs to depart the room and make way down the corridor.

To reach Lord Harrow, he must reach the Lord's private estate which is set apart from the royal palace in its own quadrant of the massive underground city. Arriving at the estate would not grant immediate access to its center compounds. It required that a massive set of doors be opened from the inside, and that an interaction with one of the guards take place to validate the arrival.

Ban's path to the gate is cut off by a single combatant. Their armor is ornate, a combination of robes and tunic, with a pole-arm in grasp and planted briefly upon the stone walkway. Firelight from the nearby braziers paint this person in an odd glow, and if Ban's senses were attuned with the Force, chances were likely he felt the unique presence of a trained force sensitive in front of him.

Kiko's caution and prayer are answered with a dip of his head and shoulders. "I thank you for both, Commander. I go knowing full well that our Lady is safe in your care."

With his familiar green half-cape secured atop his own armor by the gold cord crossing his cuirass, Ban makes for a similarly resplendent figure. He had elected to leave his blaster pistol behind, favoring the sword at his side. As Aryn had advised, the gentleman had brought along his durasteel blade, alongside the deadlier saber. Shoulders squared, head high, and noble bearing impeccable, the Jedi voices evenly upon drawing to a stop before the gate, "I am Lord Ban Iskender of New Alderaan, come to seek audience with the Lord Harrow. Whom do I address?"

"You address the First Ranger, Colvan, of the true Kilian Rangers, Lord Iskender of New Alderaan. I stand between you and your audience with the Lord Harrow for good reason. Will you heed my words, or should I prepare to defend myself?" The Ranger conducts themself with honor, showing no hostile intent despite the obvious taint of their reputation. He lifts his chin to regard the elegant Green Knight of Alderaan, their eyes meeting. Any intuition Ban might have to use through the Force grants him a clear sense that this Ranger was not eager for conflict.

Ban's words and manner remain courteous but cool, there is no warmth in voice or countenance. "I shall hear you, sir. For despite the transgressions done unto my people by yours, I will not choose the sword unless no honorable alternative remains to me."

"Then you are a man of honor. My thanks. In recent days, the name of my Order has been used often. It is said that a Lady visitor, one from your group, was abducted by my company. I deny these claims. Renegades bearing our name and staining our deeds have aligned themselves with other forces. It seems their alliance with Lord Harrow, and the Lord's agenda, came with a price. One they paid with their lives. These renegades were ultimately my responsibility to destroy, but as your company has already accomplished such, I search for another means of service."

"I believe we, the collective we, are all being manipulated. Lord Harrow's behavior is not his own. Before this conflict, I knew Lord Harrow to be a man of honor such as yourself, sir. He even led scavenging raids beyond our city to bring supplies back for those who needed it. He believed we should fight, much like our Prince has insisted during court. Only recently has a new agenda formed, and Lord Harrow has been the instrument to play its tune to others. I believe something is influencing him. I need help in reaching the Lord to know for certain. Together, we may discover the truth in all this and put a stop to the madness that has consumed our court, and threatened the security of these good folk."

Colvan shifts, gesturing plainly, "How does the Lord wish to proceed?"

"She was abducted," Ban affirms. "A noble lady, poisoned by Her hosts, borne off against Her will, to be subjected to worse indignities than these, if not for rescue. Thus, I daresay the good sir will understand if my trust runs short, at present. If it is some service you seek in order to make amends, I bid you so: my Lady suffers still under Her affliction. I require whatever parasite preys upon Her, its cure if possible, but its root at the least. I have every intention of seeing your world defended from those who would see you all enslaved and slaughtered, but the Lady remains my first concern."

A slowly drawn breath. "Having said all this, I suggest we proceed within, sir."

"My service may be all I can do to make amends, sir. I do not dispute your Lady's abduction, only its guilty party. More pressing things require both our attention, so let us turn to the matter at hand." The Ranger shows his trust in the Lord by putting his back to him to regard the large gates. "Getting inside seems to be the first obstacle. I tried the obvious already.." He glances aside. " 'Pushing' did not help." Looking ahead, he amends, "..nor pulling. I believe it barred."

"Is the gate attended by neither guard nor herald?" Ban asks rhetorically, a small frown briefly drawing at his brows. As Colvan voices the likely nature of the gate's mechanism, Ban steps nearer, resting his gauntleted palm flat on the iron and timber portal, green eyes close and he draws a long, slow breath, gathering his focus and resolve.

After a moment, he draws the flat palm into a fist and raps slowly, firmly on the gate once, twice, and thrice. On the third forceful 'knock', his will manifests through the force, projecting not only the force of an armored hand, but of a battering ram, raising a loud crack from the sundered crossbar, the gates reeling inwards enough to permit the pair to walk inside. "I do detest bad manners," the gentleman notes, archly.

The Ranger watches curiously as the gentleman raps upon the exterior gate before an alarming display of power puts the doors backward against their will. The sheer power behind the display gives the Ranger pause, but he reigns in his surprise with a look to the wall, and around. "None raised alarm for my presence; not even a challenge. Concerning."

"I suppose they will not mind if we show ourselves in." This is said as the Ranger falls in with Ban, passing the doors and eyeballing the splintered barricade that barred the entrance before.

The stone path is an easy guide to a large courtyard with a U shaped structure ahead of them. It is quiet like the grave here, still and almost unlived in. The Ranger comments again, "Where have the staff and retainer gone? This is unlike any noble estate I have attended." A small set of stairs leads toward the entrance at the center of the U fashioned to a pair of doors. The Ranger arrives at the door to push and pull, to no avail. He yields to the green cloaked man again, saying plainly, "I must ask your services again, sir. Apologies."

"Mayhap those behind this facade have lost patience with their puppets," Ban speculates aloud at the abandoned estate. Upon reaching the double doors, Ban nods once and repeats his motions of before: the flat palm, the drawn breath, a trickle of sweat begins to run visibly down his face by the time he knocks once, twice, thrice. This time a resounding thud is raised and some few splinters thrown by the third knock, but the doors hold. With a terse sniff of annoyance, Ban draws one step back, raises one armored boot and kicks in the double doors with an outpouring of thwarted will empowering the symbolic kicking in of the door, a d once again throwing open the path before them. The gentleman is breathing heavily with either exertion, irritation, or both.

The door is opened, and about the entrance swirls the splinters of shattered wood and stirred up dust. The doors have come off their hinges and lay flat upon the stone floor inside. The grand foyer is quiet, dark, and foreboding. A pair of grand stairs curve up to a second level while the foyer extends beneath the loft the stairs lead to, and into a room where a constant source of light is coming from.

It is Colvan who steps in, leveling his lance and activating a wrist shield device, who notices the oddity of constant light. He points with his weapon, saying, "There, sir.. a constant source of light which is unnatural. We ought see the wavering light of fire, not this sorcery. He moves forward, stacking upon the main door that leads beneath the loft and into, what looks like, a Great Hall.

There is a grand source of light here, and it's created by a stasis tank. The tank is host to a male body inside, who looks to slumber thanks to the functionality of the stasis. They are not alone in this room, though, and that becomes clear when the hulking forms of saurian invaders make their presence known, each lugging their weapon of choice and aiming them at the pair.

A blue saurian hiss in a terrifying whispering noise. "The Firssssssssssssssssssst Ranger.. we thought you .. perissssshed. What joy thisssss brings usss.. a second death, and one not wasssssted in fire. Your energy will ssssuffice." The blue noble saurian regards Ban then and incline their head, nostrils flaring and 'smelling' the aura of the green one. "You.. we are not familiar with you. No matter. None will esssscape." The doors shut, and 20 red saurian warriors level their weapons upon the two.

"I do hope if I live beyond this.." He airs to Ban, putting his back to the noble to guard his flank, "..we might become good friends. If I am to die here, let it be with weapon in hand.."

Ban frowns to anew at the dust stirred up by the wasted dramatics of their entrance. "This hall has long lain fallow," he observes, before his green eyes fix on the source of artificial light Colvan points out. A short nod a d move forward.

The revelation of what they find starts Ban's gauntleted hand toward the swept hilt of his saber, rather than the leather and durasteel of his dueling blade. A short nod to the ranger, and the instruction, "Do not let them flee, sir."

The reptilian leader draws his next words as the Jedi draws his sword. "No matter, indeed: what you learn of me dies with you, sir." The emerald blade ignites.

"Capture them alive, if you maaaay," Hisses the blue noble, waving a clawed appendage toward the defiant pair. "Killll if you mussst." The noble stands behind a row of warriors, but the pair find themselves surrounded. Colvan casts his heavy robe back to display his armor, the true armor of a Ranger, then his core swelters with the presence of the Force. Without waiting for anything more, Colvan leaps to his fate bravely, eager to meet the foe in battle.

The Saurian invaders posture, roar, and charge, leaping with terrifying agility and dangerous claws intended for their foes. They sport blasters as well, and begin to fire.

Ban Iskender draws his green blade up in a sharp salute, as the violence erupts, stepping forward as Colvan does, and mixing sweeping parries with sharp ripostes in an elegant display of swordsmanship that leaves the gentleman untouched and a trio of Ssi-Ruuk dead.

Colvan leapt, landed, and stabbed one of the Saurian invaders but found his weapon's bayonet glanced off their scales. He side stepped and spun, bringing back his lance and switching weapon-mode to FIRE, releasing a loud discharge of blaster energy that caught his opponent in their scaly stomach. The attacks come in from all angles, and he uses his shield to intercept much of the fire save one bolt that clips his leg and brings him to a knee. "BASTARD!" He yells, indignant, and springing back up to fight more. The Ranger stayed near the Dragoon, using his shield to send away a goodly number of bolts that might otherwise hit them both.

"Quite a novel weapon, sir," Ban commends at the blaster-lance being discharged, still sounding curiously calm in the center of a life and death swarm of serpents and their shots. His preoccupation with defense and leaving his new acquaintance's back open limits the dragoon's reach slightly, and two of the foes dart back harmlessly. A third falls, less fortunate.

"It.." Colvan growls, missing a swing before stabbing into the mouth of a creature and pulling the trigger. The technique outright kills the Saurian, and the Ranger dances back, making great use of his shield again to survive a great deal of punishment intended for them both. "..serves well enough!"

Unable to do much when he was on defense, he tried to draw closer to the Ssi-Ruuk soldiers to take better aim, but they kept swarming and moving, making the entire situation chaotic and requiring both he, and the Green Knight, to move.. constantly.

Ban Iskender wonders aloud as the deadly melee grinds on, "Does its handling suffer when mounted, or is the lance purely for fighting afoot?" Another Ssi-Ruuk falls, as the skill, sword, and shield of the two defenders keep them from further harm.

Ban Iskender is struck by a blast, staggered by the energy transfer, but otherwise unhurt by the bolt. "A fine reminder, I have neglected our hosts. Terribly rude of me," a wide streak of ire is audible beneath his formal phrasing, as one more of their assailants is struck down, but his next two blows are evaded by the swarm of swift moving Ssi-Ruuk.

Colvan dances back, sliding across the stone noisily with soles of smooth boots intended for riding, not fighting. He fires another shot despite a retreating injured Saurian before adjusting to drag up his shield once more.

"It is great for mounted warfare, sometimes.. you need only hit them from range. Really preserves the.." Colvan is hit in the other leg and falters, falling to a knee and rising his shield again. "..Shoulder! Ugh."

Leveling the lance over his shield, he aligns another shot from the kneeling, trying to cope with the pain.

"A fine point- if discharged at close range before impact the accuracy would likely not suffer-" Ban is musing between parries, thrusts, more parries, a turning cut into a lunge and recover which adds to the carnage wrought upon the invaders.

Colvan takes another clipping blow to his shoulder that spills him to his back, yet he rolls with some display of agility to tumble back to his feet. He's thankful for the support Ban offers, and counts his lucky stars that the man was much more than a normal sword wielding companion. His laser sword gave them an edge, and for the Ranger who normally reigned superior in battles such as these, felt inadequate when paired to this soldier.

Using the polearm, Colvan stabs at another large lizard and pulls the trigger. "There number falters! We may yet live!"

"Survival alone is not enough, sir: we shall prevail, presently. I pray you, keep the blue one alive, if you are able," the dragoon bids in a deliberate inversion of the Ssi-Ruu noble's instructions to their own warriors, moments before.

"I sue for survival, sir.. the rest may fall in place after that..AHHH!" Colvan charges another of the lizards, bashing their gun down to stab with the polearm, pulling the trigger. The brief flash lights up the space between Colvan and the red warrior, but it's not clear in the chaos of that moment whether they're hit or not.

Ban Iskender delays further battlefield conversation as Colvan is struck a fourth time. Abruptly, Ban changes his footing, darting across to waylay the three Ssi-Ruuk who had concentrated their wrath on the ranger.

This time when the Ranger is hit, he stumbles flat onto the ground and raises his shield, blocking one hit and watching through the energy of his shield as a green blade slashes through, felling two of the three responsible for nearly killing him. Colvan takes the opportunity to roll to his stomach, laying prone and lifting the weapon in his hand like a rifle, to settle it over the brim of his shield and fire on the charging saurian chasing Ban.

Striking down two of the three warriors besetting Colvan and trusting the ranger to tend the one at Ban's back, the dragoon methodically walks down the last of the red scaled warriors, before turning his cold green eye on the blue.

Ban Iskender says, "Now then, sir, I require a moment of your time."

Colvan, rising up slowly, is favoring his wounds and showing some distress from injuries. He takes to leaning on the polearm, content to allow Ban to do the talking. He spits off to the side, tasting blood and glares at the towering blue creature who begins to fiddle with its clawed hands, looking nervous.

"You have my.. undivided attention, jedaiii. Sssspeak." Trusting in the lore of Jedi Knights, the blue noble believed that Jedi were known for mercy; perhaps if it complied, it would be able to leave. Colvan spits again, coughing.

Ban Iskender keeps his glowing green blade lit, though his keen eyes shift from the Ssi-Ruu to the being in the medical tank. "First, you will tell me who that is. Second, you will tell me the nature of the toxin used to afflict the young woman who had spoken with your puppet."

The creature turns its head to orient toward the stasis pod, nostrils flaring before turning back to look at Ban, its head adjusting slightly to one side to watch him carefully with a lizard eye. Its large mouth full of teeth begins to move and the hissing whisper follows.

"That issss the one you call Harrow. Infected isssss he, my puppet, yes. The organisssssssm givessss us hisss brain, makesss him ssspeak with hiss voice, but ssssay our wordsss."

Looking back at the stasis pod, then back at the pair, the large saurian takes a thundering step, though not menacingly. "If hossst is not placed in sstasssiss, they will die, mindssss.. broken. Organissssssm isss in.." It intakes a sharp breath and releases, "..the brainssss."

"Organism," Ban echoes, evenly. "You have more, I expect. For other.. valuable puppets. Prepare a sealed sample, at once." He doesn't look back to Colvan, but unless the ranger protests, the Iskender is inclined to believe that Harrow is in the tank.

"As the Jedai.. wissshessssssss." It says, hissing as it looks over its large table of components. A vial of red, like blood or wine, is set upon the surface close to Ban, the clawed grip releasing it to stand on its own. Stepping back, the Saurian looks between the two. "Anything elsssse?" Being noble, the creature believed it was eligible to be ransomed back. Such were the practices of most noble houses, right? Its nostrils flare, hissing.

"Have you any queries for our host, master Colvan?" Ban asks without turning his eye aside from the Ssi-Ruu. His free hand, still gloved and gauntleted, takes up the sealed vial of liquid.

"The man.. in this glowing thing.. you say he is to die. By what means can that be changed? THe Lord is a good man, and honorable man. If it is your life on the line, would you agree to save him, or instruct us on how to accomplish such?"

The large blue lizard looks back at the stasis tube, then the pair, and hisses follow with more whispering. "It issssss posssible to remove the organisssm. Riiiiite of.. cleanssssing. It is drawn to a preciousssss metal, moving where the metal goessss. Bronzzzzzzzzze...mussst cut the flesssssh, bleeed it out, or.. it livessss and the hossssst.." Breath in take, then release. "..diesss."

Ban Iskender's green eyes tick more narrow as the Ssi-Ruu describes the process. Bronze, a cut, drawing out the organism.. His senses open, and eyes soften in their focus for a moment, before the nobleman draws a sharp breath and nods. "You speak truly. Good." A slow exhale. "In return, know that I too spoke truly: what is learned of me.. dies with you, *sir*." The still vibrant green sword is raised. "Defend yourself if you wish," he bids the blue saurian, before striking.

"*She* would have spared you," Ban states coldly as the Ssi-Ruu seizes its weapon and fires, only narrowly turning the bolt aside. "But you poisoned the diplomat, *sir*, so now you must face the soldier." Ban's riposte cuts down the last of the chamber's Ssi-Ruuk, and only then does the green sword retract into silence, being affixed to its counterbalancing sheath once again. He turns to regard Colvan, "Are you in a fit state to travel, good sir? As we have both survived and prevailed, there is much to be done."

The noble is slain just after firing a shot, the large blue lizard keeling over with a loud series of thunderous booms, knocking over a table and spilling utensils. The Ranger has nothing to say to the display of justice, or the recently departed, he just limps to the table in search of a copper knife to perform the task to save Harrow.

Ban asks if he is fit for travel, but the Ranger declines. "We both have matters to attend, Lord Ban. I, to the honorable man that is Harrow, and you to your Lady. Let us not waste time, but see to each and pray to the Gods this works."

Colvan remains with Harrow, trying to figure out the contraption that is the stasis pod, then the use of a copper knife.