**Excidiac Mess Hall**
*Sinagra Villa, Ulr Uvi of Ulress*

"Look, Excidiacs," Alara paced the hall with her arms crossed behind her back in a solemn posture, "This is a serious endeavor. We need our best troops for the job. Who is willing to hone all their skills and effort into finishing this mission?"

"Meee! Let me!"

"Shaddap, Kat! It's obviously going to be me!" Levi knocked his comrade's arm down and raised his own in its place.

"You two quit your bickering! Alara will pick who she likes!" Shadow growled at her subordinates who immediately shrunk against a wall and hung their heads in shame.

"Aye, lassie. I'll do yehr job." A husky, elder sounding brogue came from the mess hall entrance. Members' heads began to turn and then cough to cover up their snickering as a nearly four foot flurry bear entered the room. His tabby-like fur practically sparkled in the hall chandeliers' light, though his eyes remained dull, as if uninterested with the scenario that he found himself in. He leaned on his staff, covered a quick yawn with his free hand, and hobbled over to the Quaestor, who evidently, was smiling widely at the sight of his presence.

"Ahh! My old friend! You came!" Alara ran up to her comrade and knelt down to give the Ewok a huge hug. Some Excidiacs gasped and even giggled at the sight. Gregryck frowned in their direction and hugged the half-Sephi back while whispering something in her ear. Whatever it was, it shot her back up in solemn stance like a rocket with her ears flickering with embarrassment in all directions.

"Right. Anyways. Gregryck, Thunderbreath is an old friend. And I think he would be wonderful for the job."

Rasilvenaira, who was sitting in the back of the room at this time with her feet up, finished chewing off a bone and placed it on her plate while she threw her feet down to get up and observe the fellow. "You think a teddy bear can take on such a serious job? I can't afford to lose this precious possession thanks to a midget mammal." The assassin circled the Ewok with tense frustration. Gregryck frowned back at the woman and bit his lip, as if holding back from saying something he would regret later.

"I trust Gregryck with my life. He's much more powerful than he looks." Alara placed her pale hand on his shoulder and looked to her Aedile. "If you allow me, I'll appoint him to be sure the job is done. You won't have to worry much longer. Your gizka will be safe."

Without a word, Rasilvenaira nodded and pivoted to return to her seat. "Aye. See that it is. I want it returned by tonight."

The crowd disbanded, though busting with murmuring and harsh looks towards the bear. Gregryck and Alara turned to eachother once more, gave another brisk hug, and saluted. The Ewok began to speak some sort of ancient Sith dialect in his lilt, clapped his staff down on the ground which illuminated the kyber crystal mounted on its sceptor, and took off through the doors.

Within a matter of minutes, the Ewok was back holding a purring, rather comfortable-looking gizka in his arms. At the sight, Rasilvenaira jumped out of her seat and ran, rather out-of-character, towards the gizka. She threw her arms towards it in an excited fashion and began to thank the Ewok over and over for returning her precious pet. "How ever did you manage to find him?! I searched everywhere!" Rasilvenaira hugged tightly to her pet which was still struggling to awaken from its previous slumber.

"Aye lassie, I've been a tracker for many years under many moons of our galaxies." Gregryck spoke with an air of mystery as he waved his hands wooingly to the chandelier lights. "I studied under many h'aahh Jedi and Sith alike to get to where I h'am todaayye." Suddenly he turned to face the Quaestor, who was sitting next to her Aedile and smiling yet again at the sight of her friend. "For I 'add to in h'order to keep up with a wee little 'Lara."

"Wait... He ... Raised you?" Shadow stepped forward out of the crowd that was previously playing Pazaak and dropped her cards on the table in shock.

"Someone had to, Shads. It wasn't just my rupings that helped me find my way." Alara grinned even wider at her sister.

"Aye. The little 'un was h'aa 'andful, but she's turned out good if I do say so meself." Gregryck held a fraction of his cloak with pride as he looked over his youngling.

"Huh. Well who'da thunk. No wonder she's got such a temper." Jorm grinned and looked back and forth from Quaestor to Master.

"AYEE WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" Gregryck and Alara suddenly bellowed at the same time.

Tarsus made ms xD

Freyr grew impatient.
“Volksven, pass the salar platter.”
The dining hall was packed with all of the brothers and sisters, related by blood or by oath, feasting on their final meal together before the war. Freyr, Volksven’s older brother, sat next to him at the long, oak table, having asked for the fish platter thrice.
“Volksven, are you even listening?”
Hilda, seated on the other side of Volksven, poked at his side and laughed. The hall was extremely loud, with shouts of fellowship and brotherhood steadily increasing, but Volksven remained completely unresponsive.
“Volksven, pass the GODDAMN SALAR!” Freyr spat.
Eyes opening with a sudden jolt, Volksven calmly replied,
“I was meditating, brother.”
Hilda giggled once more, and Freyr shifted in his seat, cocking an eyebrow and resting his arm over the back of Volksven’s chair. Volksven appeared sedated, trapped in a prison of thoughts.
“This is no time to… meditate,” Freyr mocked. “Get in the spirit of things brother, learn to let go of your worries.”
Freyr raised his cup of kothri and nodded, gulping it down. Hilda circled an elegant finger around the top of her glass, looking down at her half-eaten plate of factryr meat pie. Volksven sighed, realizing his anxious attitude affected those around him.
“I apologize, yet I cannot help but worry about the future.”
Unsympathetically, Freyr rolled his eyes.
“Do you think you are the only one with that issue?”
His inquiry caused Volksven to wince.
“No, not at all. It’s just that—”
“No, Volksven. Spend more time living, and less time worrying about when you will no longer be living.”
Volksven pondered his brother’s declaration, and Freyr took a sip of his drink.
He exclaimed “Shab, this drink is terrible. What’s it take to get a glass of tihaar around here?”
Volksven grinned at his brother’s statement. Ever since their last visit to Mandalore, Freyr became obsessed with Mandalorian culture—and not just because of its warrior past. Freyr believed that his body was fueled by good foods and good liquors, two things he always filled up on before a battle.
“Oh, brother, if only you meditated a few times before battle, you wouldn’t need all of the alcohol.”
Nearly choking on laughter, Freyr retorted “Maybe if you had fun now and then, you wouldn’t have time to be so morose!”
Though not meant as an insult, Fryer’s words hit a sensitive spot in Volksven’s heart. He was always tense before war, along with the most sensitive.
“You are right Freyr. Only time will tell of our fate, but I intend to raise the chances of survival any ways I can.”
With a firm slap delivered to Volksven’s back, Freyr yelled,
“Then less talking, more eating, brother. Worrying is only helping you reach death without accomplishing anything.”