Welcome to Gaia! ::

*looks at the sky*
hm, it looks like the sky.....xD

*looks at the floor*

he, it looks like the floor,..,... xP

Sephiroth thought for a moment. It could be a trap set by the Intergalacic Alliance, or perhaps an extremist just out to get some Jedi. If he was not so busy, Sephiroth would have accompanied Maniac.

It could quite likely be a trap to lure us, or maybe someone does actually wish to aid us. Either way, I would advise you against going alone. I still have to retrieve the body from Mos Espa, so I cannot help. Perhaps one of the initiates could help.

*Following her*

Ready to go, and my name is Norras.

*Bows a little, happy to have a job to do, we was a little bored here.*

Quinn sighed from outside his hut, just sitting there and looking up at the sky in reflection. He hadn't been active. No one was making him their padawan, no master. He needed something to do besides sit there, maybe take a mission, maybe try and get some supplies. He wasn't just a Jedi, he is a rogue, he had lived on streets so long.

Now he was back where he belonged, and he wasn't doing what he would have liked. That aside, he made an effort to refute his fogged mind. Maybe he could attract someone to him this way...

He reached back into the flap of the hut and nodded. Everything was there, just the basics. Clothing that he had, an amount of money he no longer needed, some family things, spare parts and weapons.

He looked forward again and lifted the hood of his cloak, sitting as a hermit would in his den, alone in contemplation and reflection. Steadying his active mind, he began to look at the day's events, or rather lack thereof.

He was insensitive to any sound, but he slowly let it filter through. Peering open an eye, the man gave this one a quick one over. "No, I yearn and strive for that existence however." he said quietly, his demeanor still as calm, as though he were still in the midst of meditation.

A small robotic arm was ployed to a box, moving toward a smaller blaster near the side of the hut. His other weapons were arrayed here and there on the same side, and he had clothing on the ground next to the small kept bed.

His eyes were nearly flickering in delight, but he calmed and smiled softly. Standing, he nodded and placed the longsword at his side, then the blaster. "It would be a pleasure." he said gently, brushing back a lock of hair from his eye.

He stepped out of the hood and pulled up the hood of hiscloak, silently sixing up his opponent. The hand goes to the blade of his father's, his feet making a scraping sound against the rough rocky terrain, his legs spreading gracefully unto the stance of his choice. The hilt, with it's finger shaped recesses, fit snuggly into his hand, his other arm flicking the cloak, the same arm moving back and his fist balling.

"Then let it begin." he said still calmly, his demeanor more intense. Do not channel anger, let anger be your deterrent. The words echoed through his mind. Let peace be a guide to a steady hand and a swift movement, and let it flow through you like a breeze on a Terrenthian summer's eve. The words of his fathers made him almost weep, the base training reverberating like a bass petal.