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Sybarite [Open Club Thread]

- - - - - The Technicolor Beat

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32 replies to this topic

#21
Causstik Rahn

Causstik Rahn

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Causstik and his merry band of murders followed the droid through the confines of the ship. It was grandiose with all sorts of colors, and not just the colors the drunkards were throwing up. Causstik marveled And this just be the hangar!  He thought in wonderment.

 

As they continued the droid spoke again Oh, but one mention. No shooting.She said with just a hint of aggression tinging her lullaby of a voice.

 

Causstik merely nodded. He expected as much, this wasn’t Nar’shadaa or some other backwater planet. But, his lackeys didn’t quite fully understand.

 

“Did she say no shootin?” A trandoshan hissed as he was loading his shotgun.

 

“She didn’t say nothin’ about stabbin’!” Another barked as he caressed the hilt to his trophy Ryyk blade.

 

The band laughed as they all began feeling for the assortment of blades they carried and nodding vigorously. As they entered the main party the Trandoshans stood dumbfounded. A seventy story area strictly for debauchery, complete with a Zero G dance floor in the center. Lights and smoke filled the rooms, people danced the night away and the place reeked of pheromones. Causstik’s tongue flicked the air.

 

“Taste that stank boss?” One of the Trandoshans asked, Causstik merely grinned.

 

“Aye, if you don’t keep your tongue in your mouth you might catch a disease!” Causstik joked back and the pair barked out raspy laughter, which sounded like raking leaves.

 

This, friends, is the heart of The Technicolor Beat.

 

“More like the balls!” The Trandoshan shouted and Causstik began laughing even harder.

 

As the war-chief composed himself he beckoned for his comrades to follow. They made their way to the nearest bar, of which there were many and Causstik spied a few women had beat him to the punch. Fruity drinks seemed to be the choice of tonight and Causstik decided he’d have one too.

 

“I’ll ‘ave what she’s havin’ and don’t forget me little umbrella!” Causstik growled to the bartender as he pointed a thumb to Joza Perl. As he ordered his drink his companions began to fill up the surrounding tables, all laughing joyfully or playing games like five finger fillet.

 

Vaylin

The Slave

Aria Vale

Marcus Itera



#22
Fiore de Noir

Fiore de Noir

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“I like that name, Dorsca. Sounds super strong.” Fiore was intrigued especially since he didn’t look like a wookie. She would hopefully learn more about him as they headed towards the party. Dorsca knew the way and he pointed it towards her. She walked slightly in front of him, her slender frame showing relaxation. There was a heavy tension inside of her when she first arrived, but now all she felt was excitement. Her first party, boy all the Jedi she used to know would freak out – Trask would have probably killed her on the spot.

 

The man spoke again and Fiore stopped and looked at him. Tilting her head, she remembered watching holofilms when dancing as involved. The pair that the camera always focused on were lovers so in her mind dancing usually lead to personal physical moments together. Blushing slightly, it moved along her cheeks to her ears. “Uh a little fight maybe? I think it’s more like um sex?” Yeah, that seemed to be the right assumption, girls moved their hips, boys moved their hips, people sweated and drank.

 

Made total sense, but Fiore had never danced before so she really didn’t know.  Dorsca Waverunner


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#23
The Slave

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A grin ripped wide across the alabaster stranger, forever the glutton for social interaction it’d seem. There was a vagrant joy in meeting someone new, especially those that could hold themselves true despite the slight intimidation that was The Slave. This man was just one of them, a calm and collected character that gave off nothing more than what he wished; just what he liked to see.

 

Whats up is that I’ve been meaning to meet you.”, he said with a enigmatic tone that mirrored Marcus’s own.

 

The soft hum of the AI came over a small intercom next to the two in the private room, only to have her robotic symphony of a voice offer her own two cents on the matter;

 

It was me that gave him your dossier, Marcus.

 

That’s Cybele. She’s the ship.”, he quickly interjected, “AI and all that.

 

A secondary pause as he scratched a few rogue hairs on his chin, only to bring his voice back up in full confidence a moment later;


I’m looking for a business partner, and you seem to be one of the best ones I could look for; considering your experience and skills. I think we could make a rather… fine team.

 

Marcus Itera


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#24
Aria Vale

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An oddly high-pitched giggle passed dark lips as Aria turned to see Vaylin flop down grumpily beside her. She'd expected little else from the Zabrak and she was entertained and highly satisfied at how very like the Dark Jedi it was. Aria greeted her apprentice - it was still so strange to think that she had an apprentice, and it seemed stranger still to be meeting her at a club - with an amused smile, spinning in her seat to face her.

 

"Oh, cheer up!" she teased as the bartender placed two glasses filled with something brightly coloured with a faintly fruity smell on the counter. Aria nodded her thanks and eagerly slid one towards Vaylin, taking the other for herself. "Here, drink this. No idea what it is, but if it makes you less moody..." 

 

She took a gulp of her own in demonstration, laughing into the glass as the drink stung her throat. 

 

"Oh. Wow. That is really sweet." Whiskey was her norm and with good reason, but whatever this was, its cloying sweetness was surprisingly pleasant. 

 

Her head turned, gaze following Vaylin's at the Zabrak's next line. "Admirer?" Then she caught sight of Joza Perl, and her grin widened. "Oh, that's Joza! I know her from - well, long story. Hey, Joza!" She waved the Zeltron over cheerfully.



#25
Marcus Itera

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When it came to intimidation, there was little standing in the way of Marcus. Aside from speaking in public, sizeable arachnoids, slithering reptiles, talking to women when sober, and skittering bugs - he wasn't afraid of anything else! However, this pale and lithe man seated before him was nothing out of the ordinary it seemed. He just seemed a little too pale, a little too put together, and a little out of place lounging in a lawn chair aboard a frakking battlecruiser. 

 

Exhaling grape-flavored smoke, Marcus ashed the cigarra on the hull before grinding it with his boot.

 

"Meet me?" He cocked a wry grin and chuckled, "I'm nothing special. Just a man trying to make a quick buck or two."

 

Humility first. It was just a courtesy - for now at least.

 

Then that feminine, synthesized voice came over the room's intercom once again. Much to the mercenary's displeasure, Miranda was right again. 

 

In augmented reality her movement caught his mechanical eyes. Sticking out her tongue and wagging her finger, the words I told you so materialized with a shower of sparkles behind it.

 

He rolled his eyes.

 

Listening intently, he made it a point to smooth out some of the wrinkles in his leather jacket before bringing his metallic eyes back up to meet The Slave's.

 

"What exactly stood out in my dossier? Why choose me? There's thousands of other guys out there like me."



#26
Dorsca Waverunner

Dorsca Waverunner

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Fiore de Noir

Mumble mumble fight, mumble mumble sex. That blush just kept expanding. Dorsca found himself wondering how far down he could spur it. A non-negligible part of him considered adjournment to one of this ship's infinite little rooms. It would not, however, be gentlemanly to press his attention with such haste - and it wouldn't be as much fun.

"Fight is like sex, yes," he said. "Is move same way, is know other one deep. What like, what want, what fear. Fight is like that, yes?"

His people might not know war, but impassioned tipsy brawling was a whole other story - and more than once he'd had to fight in earnest, to help someone or defend what was his. His scarred knuckles creaked in pleasant memory.

Edited by Dorsca Waverunner, 24 May 2017 - 07:12 AM.


#27
The Slave

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The almost distant humming of the ship’s AI drew The Slave’s attention before his gaze came back to Marcus. Just as he was about to speak, the chirpy like waif voice of the eccentric AI came first; filling the room with a soft gleeful spirit that never seemed to cease.

 

It's a secret!

 

She chimed in, but it seemed less than helpful to them both. The Slave followed up with his own comment, leaning forward on the table that split the two as his hands came together.

 

To say the least, you get the job done, and you’re crazy enough to work with me.

 

A grin split his lips as he spoke,

 

And I pay well.

 

With that he leaned back once more, watching Marcus with sulphuric eyes of golden yellow. They were filled with corruption, and yet past that there was something darker, more brooding and scheming. Simply a glance past him could offer Marcus the idea that he had a plan that could challenge an empire; and in fact he did.

 

It was simply a matter if Marcus agreed or not.

 

Marcus Itera │


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#28
Preliat Mantis

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 He could only hurt so much before he did something stupid and out of character, right?

 

 

Is what Aditya would've said. But she wasn't here anymore. Nobody was here anymore. He abandoned his friends. He abandoned his people. He was sailing under a false flag, more or less. The only allegiance he had was to the 38 million clone children he had. He had abandoned them at one point as well, so it only fit that he should abandon one thing and pickup another. 38 million souls looked to him as a God- a figure born out of the pages of fairy tales. Except, he wasn't the hero in these stories. 

 

He was the monster. He was the boogeyman. 

 

Which, he very much was. Preliat had been waging war, causing pain and heartache wherever he went. Everything he touched or laid claim to turned to ash, broke, died, or faded with time. Which, was his place in life. To simply exist in a limbo of pain and hopelessness. But at least, for the moment, one of the more dangerous men in the galaxy had enough drugs and liquor in his body to tranquillise a Rancor. Which, given Preliat's size, was relatively similar. 

 

Preliat crinkled his nose as he peeled away from his table and made his way to the bar. He was starting to sober up. The colors and music pounded in his skull, like explosions or the concussive force of a turbolaser. Or, an asteroid in one case. He walked up to the bar, and laid his hands on it, thinking on his words for a moment.

 

"Double whiskey, no ice and a cola."

 

He blinked rapidly. The bartender shifted from his brother back to a bartender. He wondered what other horrid hallucinations he was going to suffer. He was sweating a lot. A chemical cocktail was brewing. Anyone touched by the force could feel him- he was a practical wound in the force. Years of pain and torment, brought about rage and anguish like no other. If others were a storm, Preliat was a hurricane of hatred and malice. He was bitter and torn, and jaded- and drunk.

 

But nothing made it better. 

 

It just made him forget for a while.

 

 


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#29
Joza Perl

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Was Joza surprised to see Aria Vale waving back at her cheerfully? Kind of. Maybe. Ish. She wasn’t sure, given that she’d only known the other woman while they were both immersed in the Silver Jedi, which admittedly seemed like a long while ago. Both of them drifted from the Order, though Joza did go back into Silver territory on occasion to help with humanitarian aid or restoration.

 

Simply put, she really had no idea what Aria had been up to. She didn’t know that she’d fought against the Jedi on Midvinter, or that she’d surrounded herself with those of the darker might.

 

Though, that became more apparent as she slipped off of her seat and approached the two women. Her aura was darker, strengthened though the sort of confidence and ability you had to find on your own. But how far did it stretch?

 

“Aria karking Vale!” She couldn’t help the wide grin that split her face, genuinely pleased to see a face from the past. “How have you been, girl? It’s been ages.” She gave a polite nod in greeting to Vaylin, the Zabrak seeming less enthused with their surroundings than Aria. Seating herself beside Aria, she rested an elbow on the bar while leaning her chin into her hand. A slow sip was taken from her glass, watching them with lit curiosity. If there was any suspicion in her mind, it was kept well out of sight. For now, she was just interested in hearing what Aria had been up to.



#30
Vaylin

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"Cheer up she says. I would've if I hadn't gotten lost..." Vaylin muttered to herself, though not quiet enough that Aria Vale couldn't hear it too.

 

The Zabrak carefully took the glass, either out of hesitation of what it contained or fearing she'd end up breaking it. She brought it up to her nose first, giving it a small sniff and was immediately bombarded with the scents of whatever made this drink colourful.

 

Well, at least it doesn't smell that unpleasant.

 

And with her lack of any experience with alcohol, or this type of lifestyle in general. Vaylin promptly took a larger sip of it than she probably should've. Case in point, as when the liquid immediately passed her lips, the shock of its sudden 'kick' sent it down the wrong pipe. The Zabrak immediately began coughing in response as it burned her throat.

 

"Gah, by the Force, that's a drink?!" The sudden squeak at the end was most likely highly amusing coming from someone like Vaylin. Especially from the perspective of her Master.

 

It took a moment or two for her to finally recompose herself, and in that time it seemed someone else had arrived. Her eyes briefly landing on Causstik Rahn who had seated himself nearby. But her attention quickly snapped to the pink skinned lady that had been looking at Aria, who had since made her way over. Vaylin frowned slightly, listening to what seemed to be a reunion between the two, though she wasn't particularly sure why she was frowning at the fact.

 

Instead, she began to sniff. The Zeltron's presence immediately set off her sense of smell, to the point she was audibly inhaling it. Albeit it had no effect on her at this point in time. Something about her smelt familiar, not necessarily because she recognised her, but the type of scent wasn't new to the Zabrak. Eventually the mystery of it got too much for her, and she shifted her body over the bar slightly, grabbing Joza Perl's attention.

 

"Why do you smell like a Boma in heat?"


Edited by Vaylin, 25 May 2017 - 07:27 PM.

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#31
Aria Vale

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Aria burst into a fit of giggles.

 

Vaylin had never drunk before.

Vaylin was squeaking.

 

To Aria it was utterly hilarious.

 

"You." She wagged a finger in emphasis, talking through laughter. "Need to drink. More often." Still grinning, she waved a hand at Vaylin's glass as if to tell the Zabrak to drink up - then she remembered her reaction again and choked back laughter, downing more of her own.

 

Perhaps overly enthusiastic, Aria spun round in her seat as Joza Perl sat down next to her. She was right - it had been years since they'd seen each other. That had been during her Jedi days, of course. Aria wasn't sure how closely the Zeltron hung with the Silvers these days, but it made little difference. She knew already that Joza was no Jedi (that could've made things a little awkward), and though she was a firm believer in the dark side's greater strength she was neither hotheaded enough nor sober enough to care. 

 

"Oh, gods, it totally has." She paced herself now, taking a sip in between uncannily excited words. "I've been just grand. What about you?"

 

Vaylin spoke - and Aria looked at her so suddenly and sharply it put a crick in her neck. 

 

This called, of course, for more laughter.

 

"Vaylin!" Aria whisper-shouted through a muffled giggle, looking at the Zabrak with amused incredulity. "Oh, uh - Joza, this is Vaylin, my apprentice. I don't know how it happened either. Vaylin, Joza."


Edited by Aria Vale, 26 May 2017 - 05:34 PM.


#32
Preliat Mantis

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Everyone else was giggling and laughing. He could hear them in the distance. He could smell them. Sweat. Perfume. Soaps. Fruit mixed in with alcohol. The masked scent of men's body odor. He ran a hand through his hair, downing most of the whiskey, and taking the cola with him. He slipped away from the bar, and took a pause to examine the room. He didn't recognise anyone. He doubted anyone would know who he was, either. He was more or less anonymous without the armour on. A jacket and a haircut, and a face full of scars made him a practical nobody.

 

Which, in the grand scheme of things- was more or less the truth. Who was he, anyway? What accomplishments had he made? He failed, in most regards. Had no noticeable importance in the overall direction of the galactic scale. Hadn't razed a planet with anyone since Dromund Kaas. Now there was another war there. Fighting amongst ashes- the Sith were trying to reclaim something that was lost, something that had been destroyed with fire and malice. And he just sat back and watched, mostly. 

 

He eyed women as he passed, but only some returned the lustful or intrigued glances. He was getting too old, too battle-worn for most women in clubs. Especially the seedy kind. A guard gave him a nervous glare. Preliat was armed. Any trained eye could see that. A slugthrower tucked into the small of his back. Covered up by the black leather jacket. The t-shirt and long sleeve button up hid it well enough to the average eye, but Preliat made it a habit to make sure people didn't screw around with him. 

 

He also had a knife...somewhere. He was rather disoriented, trying to make his way across the sea of swaying bodies. The robotic people dancing to the electronic music, the young couples damn near screwing on the dance floor. Hands over bodies. Sweat inter-mingling. A sea of chemical reactions. Synthetic drugs and natural assholes mixed together, creating a symphony of things that Preliat was far too old for. The sea of debauchery parted for him. It wasn't so much out of fear, but the crowd didn't really want him there, either. He was an oddball, he didn't belong. 

 

He was just a drunk has-been trying to have a good time- and they were having none of it. 

 

He came to the edge of the crowd, and eyed a group of females conversing. A tattooed Zeltron. A Zabrak. And a third woman, who looked human enough. Preliat took a sip from his cola. The march from the bar to where he was now (then again due to his inebriation, he could may have well been six feet from the bar) let him have some semblance of clarity, a bit of sobriety to his intoxicated night. He stood there, eyeing the women. Then it hit him. He'd been around them all long enough. Perhaps it was intuition. Perhaps it was experience. Maybe he knew one of them in the depths of (sober) consciousness.

 

Jetii. Or Sith.

 

He repressed a sneer. But then again, he had a thought.

 

He'd made bad decisions before.

 

And he killed plenty of Sith (and recently, a few Jedi) before- but never talked to one.

 

Or nailed one.

 

So it stood to reason that he could at least do the acting out bit more. If he was going to make one bad decision, he might as well make ten more, right?  


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#33
Joza Perl

Joza Perl

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“Glad to hear it,” The Zeltron nodded with a gracious smile towards Aria Vale, knocking back another sip. “I’ve been good. Heartbeat and the kid are keeping me on my toes, but I like being busy, y’know?” Typically Zeltrons were less enterprising, electing instead to take their time and enjoy life. Joza thrived in fast paced scenarios, always having been less laid back than her pinker counterparts.

 

The Zabrak who’d remained thoughtfully quiet until now spoke up—in truth Joza had ignored the audible sniffing gestures, subtle sounds lost in the ambient noise of the club. For a moment, she was taken aback by the question, brows rising as Aria gently chided her…apprentice? Apprentice. Damn do they grow up fast!

 

“It’s nice to meet you, Vaylin .” The Zeltron offered a tip of her glass in greeting, voice laced with humor. “And to answer your question, it’s because I’m always in heat.” Dry humor there, and surprisingly no sexual innuendo with it. She could control the flow of pheromones to a degree, but there’d always be that trickle. The sort one with a sensitive nose could pick up.

 

Finishing off her drink with her head tilted back, she caught sight of Preliat Mantis eyeing them in her periphery. She didn’t get a good look at him, not enough to determine what he was here for. Nookie? Bounty? Both?


Edited by Joza Perl, Today, 07:48 AM.