The natives see it as an obstacle to their lifestyle, whilst outsiders perceive it as a diamond in the rough. Regardless of the opinion, Menat Ombo is the most technological settlement on New Tython. Crammed with tall and slim towers, alleys and market squares have randomly developed where the necessary room is. You might turn a corner and see a vendor selling smoked meat from the indigenous animals, and the next corner could be a home. The merchant stalls are almost always temporary, folding easily with several clippings or a really good show of strength. Above the awnings of the stalls, buildings of various shapes and sizes crafted of sand and stone and earth create a set of interconnecting rooftops in some parts with wide gaps in the others.

It is easy to get lost in the crowds of people. As you leave the central market, countless alleys splinter out and lead to quieter sections of the city. The streets are kept tidly by maintenance droids. and the air is clean. At night, the city and marketplace are well lit, and the lights from the scattered inns create a welcoming ambiance to the twilight air.

It was a warm, bright day in the marketplace. Vendors were shouting, hawking their wares to passersby, and people wandered the stalls while debating to spend credits better used on necessities. To the meandering Ryn it was a lovely day, wandering through the bustling crowds and relieving the occasional pedestrian of their wallet or baubles, whistling lightly through his chitin nose as he stowed little ‘lost’ items away in his jacket and pants.

Kordath Bleu was enjoying himself — he’d not practiced his art in a long, long time. Arcona had sent him along with some datacards to deliver to their allies here on New Tython. He hadn’t asked what was on them, he didn’t really care. Something too important to trust the holonet with, and so the physical courier was he today. After making his delivery to the Odanite’s Arca Praxeum, he took some time inside the Jedi Temple to do a bit of sightseeing. The security forces there probably didn’t appreciate that, but they’d not exactly caught him either, just lost him for a bit. The Ryn grinned at that thought. He’d always been good at slipping in and out of places, but doing it under the nose of a few dozen Jedi was exhilarating nonetheless.

He even had a few souvenirs for the trip home, at least one he thought his Consul would appreciate, considering her own dispositions.

As Bleu made his way around a corner, wandering the marketplace with no real intent — his shuttle offworld didn’t leave for another hour — he got a flare of Force warning. This came a bit late as the assailant was doing an excellent job concealing himself and frankly, the Ryn hadn’t been paying much attention. Even as Kordath felt himself being pulled into the alleyway and flung up against a wall, he began to draw on the Force. With a deep breath the Arconan began to summon a light-blotting shadow that would allow him to make a run for it, but when he got a good look at his attacker, he released it. The shadows dissipated as the taller Human walked towards him.

“Oi, Sorenn, a ‘hello’ woulda done well enough, mate. Hey! What da kark are ya doin’?” shouted Bleu as the Jedi pushed him against the wall.

“Having fun, Kordath? Productive day?” asked the Seeker as he held the Ryn in place with one hand and pulled a wad of stolen credit chits out of the Arconan’s jacket.

“Umm, I can explain those, I can. Found ‘em on the ground, I did!”

“Don’t lie to me, Kord. What else did you just happen to find while wandering Menat Ombo today?” Turel continued to go through the Ryn’s pockets, pulling out loose credits and a few chrono pieces.

“Ya keep diggin’ about in me pants like that and...OI! Get yer sista out here if ya wanna check down there!”

“I should make you track each and every one of these people down to return what you took. Except that would mean keeping you on New Tython for even longer, which would just cause…”

Kordath raised an eyebrow as the Jedi trailed off, having pulled something for Bleu’s back pants pocket. The Jedi was staring, transfixed at the wadded up bit of cloth. Bleu cursed mentally as he realized Sorenn had found the little gift he’d grabbed up for Atyiru.

“I, uhh, I can explain, yeah? Had a wee bit of an errand at yer fancy temple, praxy thing early, right? Got a bit lost, it’s a big place, ya know, and uhhh, found meself in, umm, the uhh High Councilor lady’s room. Just kinda wandered in. Those musta fallen into me pocket, yeah,” the Ryn finished his explanation lamely, sensing a rising tide of anger from the Jedi before him. That was worrying.

“You stole these from the chambers of A’lora?”

“Well, yeah, sorta. Stealin’ is a helluva word, mate. Good lookin’ boss ya got, I’ll give ya that one, nice room too. Lotsa natural lightin’, bit tribal for my tastes but to each their own. Ya wanna let me up off the wall yet, mate?”

Kordath looked as the man who was at one time his Quaestor, though they’d never been particularly close. The anger wasn’t dissipating. If anything, it was growing stronger. Another warning bell went off in his head, the Force’s way of telling him he was karked.

’I think he’s gonna hit me, wonder why?’

That’s when Turel slapped him across the face with the back of his hand.

“Gah! What the hells, Sorenn?”

“Shut up.”

Another slap.

“Why the—!”

Slapped again.

Kordath gritted his teeth and set his jaw, glaring at the man. Turel removed the hand holding the Arconan in place, stuffing the piece of clothing into one of his own pockets. Hands free, he grabbed the front of the Ryn’s open jacket and lifted him to face level before again pinning him to the wall. Kordath’s feet kicked about under him futilely looking for purchase.

“You think,” spoke the Jedi, green eyes boring into the Ryn, “you really think, a man doesn’t recognize his own woman’s undergarments?”

“Eh? You and the Togruta? No!” started the Arconan before Turel slapped him again. “Would ya bloody stop that!?”

“Wrong room,” growled Sorenn.

“What? How? Lotsa light, plants and the like, decorated like ya’d see Blinky’s back at tha Citadel if she could see proper like.”

Both men paused as they imagined how the Miraluka Consul of Arcona would decorate with real eyes. They both shook their heads, trying to dislodge the mental images.

“Alright, less colorful than that, but ya catch me meaning.”

“Not the Consul,” snarled the Jedi, lifting Kordath away from the wall and slamming him into it, jarring the smaller Ryn.

“Ow, okay, what? Who? I mean, oh. Oooooh. The plant lady, heard you and her were gettin’ a bit close, ya dog you. Braver man than I, she looks a bit tough, wooden ya might say.” Kordath grinned at his own joke even as the Human narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “Right, that was a bad one, I’ll admit. So, you and the Neti, eh? Comeon mate, lemme down, I’ll buy ya a drink and you can tell me all about it!”

“You’re not getting out of this so easily, Bleu. You violated the sanctity of my Vorsa’s chambers. Don’t laugh!”

“Sorry,” choked Kordath, trying to cut off his own giggles. He failed. “Heh, chamber.”

“Nevermind the stolen credits, the chrono pieces, nevermind the petty theft. I’m taking you back to the Praxeum to have a conversation with the Herald. Also, you can return her property, you little thief.”

Bleu had a few ideas cross his mind as to what an angry Neti might do to him for ‘violating the sanctity of her chambers.’ From his own experiences with Ood Bnar, both the ones he recalled and the ones he knew lurked somewhere deep in his subconscious, suppressed for the sake of his own sanity, these were not good images. He shivered as past times with Arconan’s own resident mad Neti pushed up to the surface of his thoughts.

“Nope.”

“You really think you have a choice in the matter?” asked Turel, incredulity thick in his voice as he held Kordath up by his jacket.

The Ryn shrugged as best he could before holding both hands up about shoulder height. “Ya caught me once, shame on me, eh? Can ya catch me twice though?”

“You’re not getting away—ARGH!”

Kordath had channeled energy through his hands, thrusting them forward even as Sorenn questioned him. The flash of blinding light that erupted seared the Human’s eyes, causing him to shout in anger and pain, releasing one of his hands on the jacket as it jerked about in his grip. Rubbing at his eyes and blinking the spots of color away, he looked down to find himself the proud new owner of a coat that was two sizes too small for him.

“Oh you’re not getting away that easily, Bleu.”

A throng of onlookers murmured amongst themselves as Turel rounded the corner in a dead sprint. He quickly skidded to a halt as he realized he had no actual clue which way the Ryn had gone. The Jedi closed his eyes for a moment and shifted his focus into the ebb and flows of the Force around him.

Gotcha!

The Ryn’s somewhat unique presence in the Force was nearly two blocks east of the Human’s current position, in one of the larger indoor bazaars. Turel briefly considered pulling out his comm link to call for backup from the City Watch until it occurred to him that he would have to eventually report precisely what Kordath had stolen and there was no way he wanted that information in the public record. No, this would be dealt with privately. He’d grab the Arconan by the ear, march him up to the Praxeum and make him apologize to Vorsa. Though in truth, Turel was probably angrier about the whole situation than his Neti lover would be if she found out.

Turel stopped at the entrance to the bazaar to catch his breath and plot his strategy. He could sense Kordath had stopped moving and was now trying to conceal his presence in the Force.

For a lesser Jedi, that might be a problem.

Clearly the Arconan Rollmaster did not know who he was dealing with. The Jedi tugged at his jacket so that it covered his lightsaber and melted slowly into the crowd as he walked into the bazaar. This particular building was one of the oldest in the market districts, centuries old in fact. The entire structure formed a large T in the center of the district with tan colored walls, a cobblestone floor and a red-tiled roof. Large windows lined the top of the walls, just below the ceiling, were currently open to allow for ventilation. The bazaar had central hallways that lined the center of the arms of the T with enclosed shops built into sides. The intersection of the T held a commons area with various carts arranged in a circle selling food.

Turel moved like a shadow with the flow of the crowd, doing his best to blend in and remain focused on his quarry. As he closed in, he realized Kordath was inside a discount clothing shop. The Human tried to enter the shop as discretely as possible but the bell over the door gave him away.

“May I help you, sir?” One of the female Pantoran shopkeepers inquired with genuine confusion.

It took Turel a moment to realize that he was indeed inside a women’s clothing store. He could sense Kordath hiding somewhere in the back. “Uh, yes, my wife seems to have left something in your dressing room, do you mind if I look for it?”

“Sir, I assure you we check the dressing rooms after every patron and have not found anything today,” the clerk replied with a growing suspicion in her eyes.

The Jedi raised his hand ever so slightly and reached out to the woman’s mind through the Force. “It will only take a moment, there’s no harm in me looking for it.”

The Pantoran female blinked. “It will only take a moment and there is no harm in you looking,” she repeated the words as if she were mumbling them in her sleep. “Right this way, sir.” She led Turel back to the dressing rooms and turned to leave once he was inside.

The Ryn was close, he could feel it. The Jedi crept down the hallway of the dressing area. There was only one way out. Kordath was trapped. Turel slowly turned the handle on the dressing room he sensed his target in. As he peered into the dressing room, he was greeted with a fashionable, yet unusually heavy, handbag to the head.

“EEEK! There’s a perv in tha dressin’ room! Call da po-lice!” Kordath shrieked in a somewhat plausible impersonation of a female voice.

Turel stumbled back as the Ryn followed up with a second blow from the cream-colored handbag. It felt like he had a brick or something in there. What shocked the Human more than being assaulted with a fashion accessory, however, was the visage of Kordath in a floral patterned sundress over his undershirt and pants.

The Arconan shoved the flabbergasted Jedi out of the way before taking off toward the dressing area exit. The Pantoran clerks had arrived by this point to ascertain what the source of the commotion was. Kordath ran behind them, playing the part of a startled lady Ryn like a professional actor.

“That’s him, that’s tha creep breaking into dressing rooms!” the Rollmaster shrieked while pointing an accusing finger at Turel.

Man, he’s really committing to this con, the Proconsul thought as he rubbed the growing knot on his forehead from the handbag assault.

“What? Seriously? That man is a wanted criminal and evading arrest.”

Kordath scoffed audibly and clutched the handbag tighter. “HOW DARE YOU! I’m a woman you git!”

“HE HAS A BEARD!” Turel shouted with exasperation as he gestured toward the Ryn in the floral dress which coincidently complimented his blue fur perfectly.

“You racist piece of—” Kordath hissed, still in feminine character, as he moved back toward the Jedi. He deliberately ran into the clerks who began to restrain him.

The senior clerk turned the Ryn around to face her while maintaining a firm grip on his shoulder. “Ma’am, I need you calm down. Let the City Watch handle this.”

The junior clerk tilted her head back toward the store. “HELGA! WE NEED YOU IN THE DRESSING ROOM!”

Helga? Oh this can’t be good.

Turel pulled his jacket back to reveal the lightsaber hanging on his belt. “Look, this is Jedi business. I don’t know what you think is going on here, but I need to apprehend that Ryn for theft.”

“Ah, a rogue Jedi usin’ his space magic to creep into da ladies room and steal our drawers. Check his pockets! I bet you’ll find some!” Kordath was clearly running with this.

Before Turel could reply a tall and very muscular female Zabrak pushed past the Ryn and clerks. “What is going on here?” she inquired with the kind of gruff voice one could only get from decades of smoking cigarras.

“Check his pockets!” the Arconan reiterated.

Helga approached the cornered Human. “Hands where I can see them or I’ll throttle you!”

Turel complied with the Zabrak’s request in an attempt to descalate the situation. “Look, Helga, you see this lightsaber on my belt? I’m a Jedi, I need you to trust me and help apprehend a known criminal.”

Helga patted Turel down and as luck would have it the first thing she came to was a small piece of lady’s unmentionables in his pocket. “What’s this? You’re going to jail buddy!”

“THOSE ARE MY WIFE’S!”

“I told you he was a pervert!” Kordath exclaimed with vindication.

Okay, that’s enough of this.

The Jedi batted Helga’s hands away from him and gave her a firm shove with an invisible burst of Force energy knocking her off her feet. He started to rush the throng of people blocking the exit, stopping briefly to snatch Vorsa’s panties from the stunned Zabrak. Kordath took off running in the opposite direction, cream-colored handbag in hand and the floral sundress fluttering behind him.

The Ryn made it out the front door and took off into the crowded bazaar. Turel followed behind a few moments later with two Pantoran clerks in hot pursuit shrieking and throwing overpriced shoes at him.

“Stop him! He’s a pervert!”

He steals my spouse’s undergarments and I’m the pervert. Geesh.

Turel kept running and the irate clerks did not give chase. He had been beat with a weighted handbag, pelted with lady’s footwear and thoroughly embarrassed by the very public scene which had unfolded at the clothing store. This was turning into a very bad day. Kordath was so dead when he caught up to him.

Kordath dashed down alleyway and street, dress fluttering around his legs. The Ryn was moving at random, criss crossing the marketplace while moving vaguely towards the spaceport.

’Alright, I get to the port, hop the first bleedin’ shuttle I find, and get the hells of New Tython! Where ever it takes me is gonna be better than the angry tree lover findin’ me.

The Ryn came to a sudden halt as he rounded a corner and found himself face to chest with an armored breastplate.

“Apologies, madam, but could you--Emissary Bleu?” came an incredulous voice. Kordath looked up to find the shocked face of the one of the Praxeum guards he’d dealt with earlier while actually completing his mission here. The markings on his armor suggested he was an officer, though Bleu’s knowledge of such things was pretty shaky.

Options races through the Ryn’s mind as he first worried that the officer, and the dozen guards marching behind him, were Sorenn’s idea of back up. As they hadn’t brought shock batons down on the Arconan the moment they saw him he settled on random happenstance.

’I can use this!’ thought the Ryn with a sudden sense of inspiration.

“Ah! Captain! Excellent timin’!” he stated loudly, bringing himself up to his full, diminutive height. “Please disregard my attire, I was, uhh, forced to disguise myself. I encountered a threat to both of our Clan’s while movin’ to depart the planet, I did.”

“A threat? And it’s Lieutenant, master Bleu. Also, you thought the best way to disguise yourself was to wear a dress?”

“Just Bleu, if ya please mate. I’d thank ya not to question me methods, as I’m still alive, eh? Now! There’s an assassin in the marketplace! Probably one of them, uhh, Plagians? Plagias? Whatever. Ran into ‘em on accident, yeah, and uhh, I’m not sure who they’re after for sure, but they’re bad news, Captain.” Kordath nodded as he finished speaking, placing his hands on his hips and trying to convey as much certainty as possible.

“Again, I’m just a Lieutenant--Plagueis!? Are you certain?”

“Bleedin’ assassin came at me in an alleyway, spouting some garbage about ‘in honor of Lady Roh’ and ‘for the love of the magnificent Selkia’ or some dross. So, aye, pretty sure. Now, Capt, I got a plan, I do, if you want to help an Arconan friend out?”

“It’s Lieutenant!” cried the Officer in exasperation.

“Be Captain after yer done here, mate,” spoke Bleu with a grin.

---

Turel Sorenn was having a crappy day. He moved through the marketplace crowd with determined purpose, having a Sense of where Kordath had ran off. The Ryn had been moving erratically, but if the Jedi was right the Arconan had stopped running.

’Laying another trap? Or has the alcoholic gypsy finally worn himself out?’ he mused.

Another squad of Menat Ombo security officers popped into his line of sight, holding up a holo image that likely came from the dress shop’s security cams. The Ranger shook his head as they asked people in the market if they’d ‘seen this man, not dangerous, just a pervert’. If Kordath got him banned from the marketplace, well, the Ryn would be owed more than one beating now. Turel glided past them with grace, taking a page out of Kordath’s page he’d used his own impressive abilities in Force illusions to change his own outward appearance.

So it was that when he walked out of the open market and into another street, followed by a few whistles and cat calls which he chose to ignore, he spotted Kordath crossing the road. The Ryn saw him as well, though from the expression Bleu had on his face it was likely he’d not seen through the disguise.

Kordath looked torn to the Jedi, as if he was trying to decide to keep running or to make an approach on the red haired woman in the slinky dress that seemed to be eyeballing him from up the street. When Turel reached out with the Force to snag the front of the sundress the Ryn was still wearing and tugged it up over the Arconan’s head, it must have clicked finally.

“Not getting away again, Bleu,” growled the Odanite, mostly to himself as he closed the distance on the thrashing Bleu.

“Help! Help! Perverts! Somebody is kidnapping me! Rape!” screamed the struggling Ryn, trying to disentangle himself from the dress.

Turel reached into the clothing with unerring accuracy and grabbed Bleu by the hair on the back of his head, yanking the Ryn upright to his feet. Despite the situation, or maybe because of it from what the Jedi knew of his old Arconan ally, Bleu gave him a winning smile and a wink.

“Well, ‘ello there luv, you goin’ my way?”

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Kord, even Atyiru won’t yell at me for what I’m going to do to you for today.”

“Ah, ‘ello, Sorenn, I almost feel bad about this” said the Arconan, surprisingly quiet. Turel spotted a glint in the Ryn’s eye just before Bleu opened his mouth to yell.

“CAPTAIN! Found ‘em! Alarm! Charge!”

“What are you going on about?” asked Sorenn, shaking the Arconan to quiet him down. People were watching now, as were the Praxeum security team that seemed to appear from the alleyways as if ghosts. “Wait, what?”

“It’s the assassin!” screeched the Arconan.

“Put down the Arconan ambassador, miss, and put your hands on your heads. We need to question your purpose on New Tython, please do not resist,” said the Lieutenant, sounding very calm despite the shock baton in his hand. His men moved to circle the odd pair in the middle of the street, blaster carbines and force pikes at the ready.

“Lieutenant, I need you to calm down. The, um, Ambassador, was thieving in the marketplace, I was bringing him back to the Praxeum for a conversation about right and wrong.”

“Oi! He’s a Captain, not a Lieutenant--”

“I’m a Lieutenant, Bleu.”

“Oh, right, whatever. And who you callin’ a thief! Slander! Lies!”

“Please put the cross dressing Ryn down, ma’am, and come with us,” repeated the Officer, starting to sound exasperated.

Turel released his grip on Kord’s hair, causing the Arconan to crumple to the street, clutching his head. With both hands raised he focused his will, staring at the Lieutenant.

“This man is a criminal, he must be--OW!” shouted the apparent red head woman as Kordath kicked her in the shin.

“She’s tryin’ to use some kind of mind tricks on ya, Captain! Don’t let the witch get in yer head!”

The Lieutenant shook his head and then glared at the supposed assassin. “That’s enough! Desist or we will stun you and take you in bound and gagged!”

With a just visible twitch from the muscles around one eye, Turel lowered his hands and exhaled, dismissing the illusions he’d used to disguise himself. So much for not embarrassing himself or the Clan.

“Lord Sorenn!?”

“Yes! Now secure ‘Ambassador’ Bleu and help me get him to the Prax--OW! Stop that!”

“See! Assassin! They can change how they look on the fly, they can! Took Turel’s form, eh, Plagian!? She, he, uhh, they, whatever, must be after Councilor A’lora! Look at how exact the features are, this is a very skilled killer!”

“Would you just shut the kark up!” screamed Turel, so distracted by the Ryn’s antics that he didn’t see the guardsman behind him. He fell to his knees in surprise as the guard used the haft of his pike to swat the Jedi across the shoulders.

Kordath had scrambled to his feet and backed up towards the Lieutenant, “Excellent work! I’ll get to a comm station, I will, call the real Sorenn and have him come down here. Sure Turel would love to interrogate a Plagueis spy, ‘specially one that used his own face, eh?”

“Wait, where are you go--” started to ask the Officer, turning to see the Ryn bolting down an alleyway. “Whatever, fine. Alright, let’s secure the prisoner. You’re in big trouble, friend.”

Turel glared at the once again fleeing Arconan, who took a moment to look over his shoulder and stick his tongue out at the Jedi.

One of the guardsmen forcibly guided Turel to a nearby wall where he conducted a hasty patdown search. Before the Jedi had a chance to object his saber and slugthrower had been deftly removed and handed to a nearby officer. He felt a sudden surge of abject horror as he felt the officer reaching into his pocket.

Oh no. Not again.

“What’s this we have here? Lady’s undergarments?” The guardsman inquired with a twinge of disgust in his voice. He shoved Turel’s face into the wall. “You’re the pervert we’ve been looking for!”

The Proconsul pushed back to give himself room to speak. He paused to rotate his now sore jaw and face. “Those are my wife’s! Look, that little blue creep stole them and you’re letting him get away.”

The Lieutenant chimed in, “sure thing pal, you can explain it to the real Councilor Sorenn back at HQ.”

“I AM THE REAL COUNCILOR SORENN YOU DENS--” Turel’s exclamation was cut short when he heard the unmistakable sound of a shock baton activating.

“Are we going to have to add resisting arrest to your rap sheet buddy?” The guardsman inquired as he twisted Turel’s arm further behind his back.

The Proconsul briefly considered just giving up the chase. Kordath was getting away and the Jedi’s options for getting away from these officers in a timely and minimally violent manner were slim. The logical part of Turel’s brain was screaming for him to just let it go; enough trouble had been caused on account of the Ryn’s theft. He considered doing the logical thing, but only briefly. The ex-gangster was too angry and getting manhandled by his own security personnel only served as fuel for the fire.

Turel took a deep breath and called upon the Force. After a few moments of concentration he jammed his free elbow into the guardsmen’s stomach and spun around to face the Lieutenant and the other officers. Before the men had a chance to fully raised their weapons to subdue him, Turel raised his right hand and closed his eyes. The guardsmen saw a flash of white light emanate from the Jedi’s palm and each instinctively raised their free hands to cover their eyes.

“Sorry guys, I gotta run,” the Proconsul taunted as he snatched the panties and his lightsaber from the officer who had searched him. They could keep the slugthrower.

A throng of onlookers stumbled over themselves trying to get out of the way as Turel ran down the alley in pursuit of Kordath. The Ryn had a healthy head start, but the Proconsul knew where he was heading and knew the ins and outs of this part of the city.

---

Turel caught up with Kordath at the spaceport. The Arconan was walking casually through the terminal toward the orbital shuttle which would take him back to Selen. Smug rat thinks he got away with it. I’ll show him.

The Jedi focused on Kordath’s mind and altered his appearance to that of Vorsa. He’d teach that thief a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. He stepped out from around a corner and blocked the Ryn’s path.

“OH, hey luv, fancy meeting you here.” Kordath stuttered before waving to someone behind Turel.

Before the Jedi could turn around he caught a stun baton to the back of the head, knocking him out cold. Kordath leaned down and took the panties from the Humans jacket.

“Thanks for your help officer.” The Arconan remarked.