Ord Mantell

My Dearest Sister, greetings and salutations!

First of all, congratulations on that new glow-stick of yours. You wanted it badly, and I am certain that you've got all the appropriate Ah! and Oh! from our honorable mother, may she live a long and prosperous life. Me, I just want to know what color you've got, and if you don't like it, well, a new crystal is on me.

Also, do tell more about the lizard-man who trails after you now. I laughed and laughed at that holo you've sent. On the black lonely night crawling through space I was imagining you sparring with the hulky Knights. How dreadfully wrong I was!

Now, to the important things. Some creep of a sep snatched my ship. With the cargo. There is a very good Twi'lek word to describe my feelings, but I am afraid it will be lost on you. It's a pity honorable Mother shipped you off to the Jedi before I could teach you a proper way to express yourself. Speaking of Twi'leks, thanks for giving a hand to the Pilgrims, they've got the right idea about how my birth-people should go about governing. Very decent of you.

Almost forgot: the guy who was supposed to guard my ship lost his rifle. Or a blaster or whatever it was, I must have passed out while he was rattling about the thing. What an idiot! There is something unsettling about him. But he is still an idiot.

Gotta run, many hugs, and keep those horns clean,

Tishujen

P.S. Did our beloved Uncle send you his latest version of the noble Bao-Dur's biography? I've gotten three so far, but as the vessel of the family's hopes and aspirations and the last descendant of the said noble Zabrak, you should have at least seven. Am I right? Really gotta run! Someone with a gentle name Butcher is supposed to give me a hand with getting the ship back. Desperate times, you know…