M E A T B A G
Location: Solstice Vine - First Floor Bar.
Outfit: Thyrsian Bodyglove with Tribal Vestments.
It had been a long time since the Thyrsian Warlord had laid eyes on the Ison Corridor, but the demands of an active military-industrial complex required him to return to these ravaged stars. As his warship traversed through the nebula, his mind drifted back to when his armed forces were here last. The First Order reigned back then. They laid claim to every world within the Anoat Sector. They turned them into Fortress Worlds - upon which the armies of the Galactic Alliance threw themselves against time and again, hoping to regain their lost territory. Yet, for years, these worlds prospered under First-Imperial rule. Until the Ssi-Ruu came.
Then, all was lost, as the First Order splintered into squabbling warlords and successor states. Those that remained within the Anoat Sector sought to enact the Secundus Protocol, where they would become the last bastion of First-Imperial power in the Western Reaches. However, the Ssi-Ruu vanguard had other ideas - so too did the Golden Company, as the First Order broke their contract by failing to pay for services rendered. Both forces speared into the heart of the Ison Corridor, but only the Golden Company emerged victoriously. A small smile creased the Warlord’s lips as he recalled utilizing specialized chemical weaponry to utterly annihilate the vast hoards reptilian invaders.
Another dirty little secret that the Galaxy blissfully swept under the rug.
However, the man didn’t trek halfway across the known universe to relive past memories of glories long past. Instead, the man came to Bespin to negotiate a deal with the Baron Administrator of Cloud City. The terms regarded a continuous stream of tibanna gas shipped to his holdings on Coruscant, and to Thyrsus after that. As to be expected, when their meeting finally began, the two men spent several hours haggling over the terms and conditions - alongside several other notable factors that involved security measures around shipping lanes. There was a point during the meeting that Khonsu felt inclined to fall prey to his more barbaric instincts. To reach across the table and strangle the man with his bare hands.
As entertaining as that would’ve been, it wouldn’t have made a difference. The people here were loyal to their own, and the death of their Baron would’ve negatively impacted the entirety of Cloud City in some fashion or another. Thankfully, the Warlord had a greater sense of self-control than many would expect. So, as the deal was struck and the man had several hours to kill - Khonsu made an uncharacteristic choice and elected to visit one of the local watering holes. He was never a man to revel in the vices of the underworld, as they made the mind and body weak. Yet, this was a big deal, and the man felt like celebrating.
Thus, his path had led him to the entrance of the Solstice Vine, one of the newest nightclubs to open their doors on the streets of Cloud City - if rumours proved true.
With a subtle gesture of his gloved hand, the bodysuit clad Sun Guard dismissed the gilded Stormtroopers that comprised his armed escort. While he could’ve easily killed the security forces that patrolled the grounds of the establishment - doing so would have defeated the purpose of celebrating a successful deal. Sadly, such thoughts were commonplace for a Warrior-King; especially one who spent his entire life being dragged from one battlefield to another.
They were old habits, and they died hard.
Nevertheless, Khonsu entered the Solstice Vine - and tried not to succumb to the pulsating linear lights and the sense of claustrophobia that the central tunnel implied. When he emerged on the other side, doubtlessly scanned for hidden weapons and other illicit materials, the Thyrsian found himself habitually scouring the occupants for any signs of familiarity - as well as possible points of egress should things get nasty.
It wasn’t long after that the man navigated his way over to the bar and beckoned one of the scantily-clad wait staff over.
“Nice outfit,” she began, with her lips curling into a smile. “So, what’s your poison, Handsome?”
Outfit: Thyrsian Bodyglove with Tribal Vestments.
It had been a long time since the Thyrsian Warlord had laid eyes on the Ison Corridor, but the demands of an active military-industrial complex required him to return to these ravaged stars. As his warship traversed through the nebula, his mind drifted back to when his armed forces were here last. The First Order reigned back then. They laid claim to every world within the Anoat Sector. They turned them into Fortress Worlds - upon which the armies of the Galactic Alliance threw themselves against time and again, hoping to regain their lost territory. Yet, for years, these worlds prospered under First-Imperial rule. Until the Ssi-Ruu came.
Then, all was lost, as the First Order splintered into squabbling warlords and successor states. Those that remained within the Anoat Sector sought to enact the Secundus Protocol, where they would become the last bastion of First-Imperial power in the Western Reaches. However, the Ssi-Ruu vanguard had other ideas - so too did the Golden Company, as the First Order broke their contract by failing to pay for services rendered. Both forces speared into the heart of the Ison Corridor, but only the Golden Company emerged victoriously. A small smile creased the Warlord’s lips as he recalled utilizing specialized chemical weaponry to utterly annihilate the vast hoards reptilian invaders.
Another dirty little secret that the Galaxy blissfully swept under the rug.
However, the man didn’t trek halfway across the known universe to relive past memories of glories long past. Instead, the man came to Bespin to negotiate a deal with the Baron Administrator of Cloud City. The terms regarded a continuous stream of tibanna gas shipped to his holdings on Coruscant, and to Thyrsus after that. As to be expected, when their meeting finally began, the two men spent several hours haggling over the terms and conditions - alongside several other notable factors that involved security measures around shipping lanes. There was a point during the meeting that Khonsu felt inclined to fall prey to his more barbaric instincts. To reach across the table and strangle the man with his bare hands.
As entertaining as that would’ve been, it wouldn’t have made a difference. The people here were loyal to their own, and the death of their Baron would’ve negatively impacted the entirety of Cloud City in some fashion or another. Thankfully, the Warlord had a greater sense of self-control than many would expect. So, as the deal was struck and the man had several hours to kill - Khonsu made an uncharacteristic choice and elected to visit one of the local watering holes. He was never a man to revel in the vices of the underworld, as they made the mind and body weak. Yet, this was a big deal, and the man felt like celebrating.
Thus, his path had led him to the entrance of the Solstice Vine, one of the newest nightclubs to open their doors on the streets of Cloud City - if rumours proved true.
With a subtle gesture of his gloved hand, the bodysuit clad Sun Guard dismissed the gilded Stormtroopers that comprised his armed escort. While he could’ve easily killed the security forces that patrolled the grounds of the establishment - doing so would have defeated the purpose of celebrating a successful deal. Sadly, such thoughts were commonplace for a Warrior-King; especially one who spent his entire life being dragged from one battlefield to another.
They were old habits, and they died hard.
Nevertheless, Khonsu entered the Solstice Vine - and tried not to succumb to the pulsating linear lights and the sense of claustrophobia that the central tunnel implied. When he emerged on the other side, doubtlessly scanned for hidden weapons and other illicit materials, the Thyrsian found himself habitually scouring the occupants for any signs of familiarity - as well as possible points of egress should things get nasty.
It wasn’t long after that the man navigated his way over to the bar and beckoned one of the scantily-clad wait staff over.
“Nice outfit,” she began, with her lips curling into a smile. “So, what’s your poison, Handsome?”
“I’ll have the special.”
| [member="Joza Perl"] |