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Walking around the establishment now, her eyes peeled for the Neimoidian, Taeli observed the crowd. There was something about gambling places that drew out the darker urges within beings. The greed of scoring big, the jealousy of those that had watched someone win that hand of cards, scores to be settled secretly. A drop of poison here, a quiet word and escort out, never to be seen again. The dark side had claimed places like this, bringing out the baser emotions of all... and she drank it all in. No one's secrets were safe here from someone like her. Ruled by their passions, their thoughts were easy to read.
Except for one very nervous mind at a private booth near the back. Making her way over, she found her contact. The Neimoidian looked extremely nervous as she took a seat across from him.
"Nuve Lodd, a pleasure," she said.
"Ahem Lady Arcanix," Lodd muttered, glancing around for a moment. "I have what you requested. However, there was a... complication."
Fiolette set the Hyperdrive magazine to the side and grabbed the latest issue of Star Destroyer an Imperialist exclusive magazine, one that she took great pleaure in reading. She was still working through that Cantonican Cactus Sunrise it rivaled a Cassandra Sunrise in her opinion. She read about two pages into one article before setting it down on her lap and grabbing her small communications device. Fiolette tapped out a message to her beloved [member="Taeli Raaf"], it read, "darling, I miss you." It was followed by another, "how much do you think one of those Bothuwai ranches would go for?"
She set her device to the side, and grabbed her Cantonican Cactus Sunrise in one hand and pulled the magazine up with another. She set it back down on her lap and rose her legs up so she could have an easier go at reading it. Now, in her attempt at reading and drinking she was going for the straw, however, the straw was not near her mouth. Thus making it quite difficult to simply sip and drink, while looking cool. Normally this wasn't an issue for normally, Taeli was there to swing said straw around.
The Galidraani finally looked over at the drink set her magazine down and pulled the straw to her mouth. Once the sunrise had been taken down a few notches (literally), FIolette set the magazine atop of the others and grabbed her communications device again and tapped out another message to Taeli. "I'm bored, hurry with your errand darling. Xoxo." She then decided to browse the holonet on her device and went to an auction site where she plugged in the word yacht.
Location: Casino
Objective: Recreation
Looking to engage with: Anyone
For once, he had the day off. No jobs, no hunting, nothing to do. At first, he had spent the day cozied up in his bed aboard the Sabretooth but napping and meditating could only stave off his boredom for so long. The lack of activity, the downtime, was driving him crazy and he was growing beyond restless. So now, Zoltan found himself in the casino, sitting on a barstool at the bar counter.
"Corellian rum." He said to the bartender as he knocked his right hand lightly against the dark wooden counter. Around him were the sounds of ringing slot machines, yells of excitement and dismay from the numerous gamblers that surrounded him, and the obsessive clatter of credits as they poured from dispensers, exchanged hands from players to dealers, and more. It was a party.
Cigarette smoke fogged up the air, tickling Zoltan's nose and threatening to make him cough. But only a moment had passed when the bartender brought him his drink. The Anzat assassin wrapped his pale hand around the sparkling glass and brought it to his lips. He took his first sip, staring idly at the shelves of liquor lining the walls. The sweet brown liquid sloshed over his tongue before he swallowed, sighing in satisfaction as he placed the glass back on the counter.
Tilting his head, Zoltan cracked his neck as he spun around, resting his back against the counter and looking out into the mass of gamblers. He took another drink as he people-watched, looking.... searching for someone to talk to. Someone with looks and a charming smile perhaps.
"Evolution through Chaos," Sasha said with a nod to [member="Darth Carnifex"]. Looking over the man she considered her next words carefully. This was a theory she had posited before to Velok, and Ashin before him, and one she would continue to expound, being in her measure a tried and tested theory. "When you were a young boy, assuming you didn't start a crotchety old man, you must have knocked over an insect's burrow hill." Or burned them with magnifying glasses, or lighters, or perhaps doused the hill in gasoline. "have you ever gone back afterward? They build it better, stronger. That's what the Sith are. We are agents of evolution, agents of progress."
How many empires had come and gone in this chaotic little galaxy since Sasha had been born? The number was probably close to a hundred depending on how one defined Empire. Sasha still remained, Kaine still remained, and how many others had perished. "And think about the innovations war bring? Not just for the military, but for all society. Advanced power generators designed to propel ships power cities, transpiristeel creates massive towers. We owe all of this to conflict. Most rapid organic and technological advances are caused by conflict."
Sitting on the stack of chairs Sasha smiled a little smile at Carnifex. They had known eachother a long time, and always had a good relationship minus their first encounter. She wondered how many other people got to have quiet conversations with the Emperor.
"So far as my philosophy goes I believe you're empire is fit to bear the title of Sith. Although as you said there is a bit of a peaceful period. It's worrying. What are warriors without wars to fight? What are conquerors without lands to conqueror?
He agreed with what she said, that the Sith were the agents of evolution and progress. Conflict changed cultures, improved them. It was only after a people subjected themselves to the conflagration of war that the truth of the strength was shown, and the weak were consumed by the flames while the strong survived to learn and grow. He was coming to understand that the Sith needed an enemy to fight, someone to test their mettle against and force them to constantly improve lest they are beaten.
"My people will need the use of a clearly defined enemy, Sasha. While the Jedi will always stand against our Empire, they are not enough. We will need new enemies, new challenges. Even if such enemies must be forced into existence."
The Empire may yet need to fabricate new enemies that would inflame the passions of the people, keeping them subservient to the 'benevolent' tyranny of the Sith in the name of public safety and security. It would also keep them occupied, perpetually in a state of anxiety against the entities beyond the safe and secure borders of the Empire.
It wasn't long before a familiar presence pinged onto his radar. He'd recognize that serious disposition, the comparatively sour attitude, kilometers away. And such a presence brought forth a renewed grin upon his countenance. It was so good to keep in touch with friends, no? For reasons beyond his comprehension, Zaz didn't have too many friends. Not good ones, anyway. Sure, there were plenty of favor-seekers - fools under an impression that a past collaboration merited friendship in its proper definition, but none of those bore any real interest to the lavender man. He'd get just as much stimulation conversing with them as he would a wall.
His friend here, however? Now she was interesting.
As she approached his tent of wonders, he stood to greet her. His boots, a fine leather as to be expected from a fine specimen as himself, had been tossed aside in favor of the warm weather. His feet, however, found refuge among rugs and tapestries rather than becoming acquainted with the sand just yet. When she did enter, his arms were wide in greeting, almost as if he would embrace the much taller woman.
"Kassandra, it's been too long!" There was an intentional emphasis upon the name she'd originally given him and a smirk-ever present in that voice. "Do come in, sit yourself down, relax. Is that a friend of yours I sense following you? Do bring them in, too."
After a few minutes spent basking in the light and relishing the cool wind on his skin, Lark realized that his cup had run empty once more. He smiled lightly, this current persona he was adopting seemed to be quite a big fan of the stuff. Despite his earlier worry that he might drink to much, Lark strolled over to a nearby beach bar, whose bartender seemed much less sleazy than the one in the casino. He set his empty glass down on the counter, attracting some odd looks from other beach-goers as he did so. He was still dressed in fine garb, while nearly everyone else was either wearing much lighter clothing or swimsuits. Their gazes mattered little to him. Whether that was because of his general disregard for human life or the alcohol, he couldn't say.
He asked for some rum, another favored drink of his. Although he normally drank wine almost exclusively, rum seemed like much more of a beach drink. And although the beach was disappointingly an imitation of a real coast, he still wanted to enjoy one of the very brief moments of peace that had been granted to him. Lark walked towards the water, hiking up the bottom of his dark jeans to his ankles. He really did delight in being at the beach, it was so different from the malicious swamp he grew up in. He waded into the water, unsure on whether or not he was supposed to feel it. In his semi-intoxicated state he could at least pretend it was real.
Lark had only been to a real beach a handful of times, and despite the tranquility the rhythm of the waves brought to him, he never considered it to be a place of true peace. After every passing moment it seemed like such a place was truly unreachable. Even here, there were a horde of thugs and sordid beings that Lark would always have to keep an eye on. Perhaps, he thought, I will only ever achieve true peace once I am alone.
He abandoned that thought, refusing to let the monster within him grow any larger, or show itself in this of all places. As he thought before, this was one of only a handful of moments Lark had even felt a semblance of harmony.
"What complication did you encounter?" she asked, sighing. Her datapad buzzed, showing a message and then another from [member="Fiolette Raaf"]. While she smiled internally and had to suppress herself from rolling her eyes at the question about Bothuwai ranches, she kept her expression for the Neimoidian across from her. Lodd didn't need to know about her personal life.
"Some... ruffians or rebels took my supply," the Neimoidian responded. "Rats scurried back into the sewers of this city."
"And they likely plan to use it on the masters of this world," Taeli concluded, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "How much did you bring?"
"As much as I could bring from the refinery," Lodd responded. "Several kilos at least."
Taeli had heard enough. A single vial could reduce three hundred Wookiees into nothing but organic goo and ash and blood, several kilos could likely do the entire city. Well, guess that was her afternoon taken. She took her datapad into her hand, typing out a quick message to Fiolette her meeting was going to take longer than expected. Sighing, and looking at the Neimoidian, she slashed her hand. The Neimoidian froze, eyes bulging as he clutched at his throat. But there was nothing he could do but slump over in his booth, quite dead from the nick to his artery she had done with the dark side.
"Relyana, locate the local rebels base in the sewers. I will be along shortly," she said into her comlink, getting out of her seat and leaving the Neimodian's corpse. At least she didn't have to pay him now, and for his failures, at least she made his end quick.
Uri Udinia sat across from the deformed, faceless monster, its skin the color of rotting drywall, its shape lumpy and pulsing in unpleasant places as it sat across the table from her. The left hand was freakishly long and bony, the right at normal purportions. It was hunchbacked from the pulsing mass of flesh improperly arranged on its right shoulder, the midsection emaciated and giving away the shape of the ribcage, the skin translucent over a featureless chest, giving away its inhuman looking organs.
Uri, if she had any of her wits, would have been trying to kill the malformed creature. But it had surprised her. And now it had a steady IV feed into her arm, pumping her full of drugs that would render her both complacent and with amnesia regarding everything that happened in these moments. Around the table they sat on, jagged, black crescents had been painted onto the stone floor, giant statues of griffins overlooked them both. The Monster had subtly coaxed its false self for weeks to arrange all the proper materials, sweet little whispers of poison in the Lie's mental ear. And now it was all at play. It was evening. No one would be there to interrupt them.
Uri's eyes fluttered constantly, occasionally rolling up into her skull. Her chocolate brown hair was patted to her scalp from nausea sweat.
A simple meal had been prepared by its false self before the truth had violently taken control. A bowl of vegetable stew had been set underneath her.
It could not take the shape it wanted, normally preferred when not hidden. But its irregular awakening prevented this.
It lurched towards its heir.
"Where...am...I?" Uri asked weakly.
It lurched up and towards her. Its face shifted weakly into a sagging, large, lamprey-like mouth, allowing it to speak.
"So good of you to join me for the evening...we have so much ground to cover..." the hideous monster wheezed into Uri's ear, its lamprey mouth fluttering in and sagging in all the wrong places as it spoke.
"I'll...n-n-neve-never...join...y-y-you..."
"You already have." it mildly sneered. "Eat...I made your favorite..."
"You're...a sick...twisted...beast..." Uri struggled to get out under the drugs, wanting to move, but not quite able
"You put too much stock in the physical." the lamprey-mouthed mockery of nature retorted, a slick tentacle forming out of its misshapen left arm, wrapping around the spoon in the bowl. It lifted a spoonful of steamed vegetables to Uri's mouth, its right hand prying her mouth open gently.
As the spoon was lifted away, it revealed a dark red cauldron of liquid at the center...defiled blood from a human sacrifice, tainting the vegetables. It was part of the initiation.
"You should be honored..." the disgusting creature hissed as it used the force to make her chew the tainted food. "You are the first to be inducted into this cult in over four centuries. Long did I search for my successor. But none had your potential...or inherent madness, bubbling beneath the surface..."
"I...serve...only...the Jedi..." Uri struggled out defiantly after reflexively swallowing the food
"A waste of your talant...a fine incubator though...for both of us..." it said as it circled around her in the great stone room, its tentacles extending as it moved, veins pulsing along it as it continued to clasp the spoon at a distance, lifting another spoon to her heirs mouth, sending a mental prod into the Shadow's addled mind to consume it.
"You...arose from...Darkness..."
"You barrowed it..." it shot back before lurching clumsily to her, embarrassed at its state.
"Don't you understand?" it asked. "I prepare you for glory. I make you spiritually beautiful, lifting you from the wretched, overbright, burning ugliness of the Ashla, which is forcing you into a life of self denial."
Uri found the willpower to turn her head, though her eyes still fluttered, unfocused...
"Are you saying that to...convince...me...or...or you?" she asked defiantly.
The creature didn't answer.
"I offer the secrets of the shadows, dear Uri..." it said after a moment. "That is all I have ever wanted for you...to bask in the same type of power I enjoy..."
Uri found the will to focus fluttering, wet green eyes at the monster, and for just a moment and no more the creature was taken aback by the defiance it saw within her.
"You may have power..." Uri said, forcing herself to remain coherent. "But you clearly have nothing else but that..."
The Amalgam snapped out of the memory for a moment as she walked the beach, her curvy, petite figure now shivering in the impractical white collared, red sling bikini, her black boots caked with sand. She felt the weight of her lightsabers, hidden in cavities in her arms that seemed to pull her down as she stopped at another point of the beach with few people. Dead purple eyes stared at others with a nigh-pathological contempt. They were nothing. They were nothing and she wanted beach food, her stomach grumbling.
"Nice bikini..."
The Amalgam's dead eyes slid to her right to stare at the pale skinned woman with red hair and even curvier than she was, with green eyes, clad in an emerald bikini, standing next right next to her. Her eye caught the woman's wrist twitching and she sighed a little.
"Thanks." The Amalgam replied, playing along, her arm surreptitiously crossing her stomach, focusing for a moment.
"There some reason you're standing next to me, sweetheart?" The Dark Evangelist asked dryly as she stared across the water.
The pale woman smiled widely.
"Y'know..." the woman began. "I wasn't sure why one such as you would go to Cantonica. Not your type of place. You usually prefer filthy hovels of Darkness--"
"Blessed hovels, Lura. Blessed hovels." The Amalgam corrected, more to be nitpicky than anything, not staring at her.
Lura smiled. "What gave me away?"
"Your wrist still twitches when you're nervous. Good job sneaking up on me. Admittedly, I was distracted but still...so, how are you enjoying your life as a Consumer?"
Lura's wide smile slightly faded.
"It's wonderful." she admitted. "I serve the Dark, as you do."
"You're welcome." The Amalgam mocked. It had taken her months to locate samples of Consumer Tissue, force feeding it to Lura, The Marksmen's booby-trap specialist. She had watched her mutate, screaming for the cure, and delighted watching the last of Lura's humanity leave her, the Virus eating her soul alive and leaving only the dark-side enslaved husk in her place. It was a fate fit for lesser adepts. Not Uri though. Bogan forbid it should happen to her daughter.
The Saaraishash grinned still not looking at her. "Come to thank me? For finally making you beautiful?"
"Oh yes." Lura hissed, her ribcage shifting and producing a nozzle protruding from her flesh, though The Amalgam could tell it clearly strained her...Consumers could not shift as efficiently as natural Shi'ido, so forcing her body to work that quickly was taxing.
Lura then turned to her with a nasty glare.
"But that doesn't mean I still don't have grudges."
The Amalgam didn't look at her, staring at the waters, watching people sail on the water in sport boats, thinking of Uri, her wet green eyes staring at the Amalgam's rotting soul from within her skull.
"Flamethrower or Bio-Assault spray?"
"It'd be fun watching you burn..." Lura snapped. "But I'd rather watch you melt. Had a Vong shaper make this stuff. It'll get the job done..."
"You had me dead to rights. Couldn't sense you. Then you ruin it by giving yourself away."
"Only because I want to do you the same favor you did me...to watch the light leave your eyes..."
"We're on the same side now Lura. I gave you to a decent Sith Lord. Don't see what you're so upset about--"
"He's the one who sent me..."
"Oh? Why?" she asked distantly, uninterested in Lura, thinking only of her daughter.
"To replace you...an agent in the Saaraishash would be rather useful...you've developed something of a reputation for brutality after Cron...and the old me died with a grudge. It was a win win for both of us."
The Amalgam remembered her false self tending Uri's wounds. "Becoming your destroyer...literally. Hell of a way to go full circle." she joked.
"Time to die."
The Amalgam gestured to her side. Lura peered down, saw the saber emitter protruding from the Amalgam's side. She was still staring at the water.
"Nice bikini yourself, by the way..." The Amalgam muttered. "Good old fashioned standoff. Haven't had one of those in a while. Thanks for ruining my vacation, by the way."
"You're welcome." Lura snarled, trapped as her prey was...
Objective I: Epitomise decadence. Nearby: [member="Erin Tenel"] | [member="Zazrael Lux"], [member="Kassandra Zambrano"], et al. Post Number III The ability to conceal one's aura was useful, incredibly so. Unfortunately, Adrian had no idea how to accomplish such a feat. He was, however, quite adept at reading his surroundings.
When the maybe-Joycelyn's attention was directed towards him, he was already on the move. It might have helped to be shorter, but he wasn't that much taller than the average man, nor was he wearing a black robe or something similarly blatant.
Slithering through the crowd, he did his best to avoid undue attention until that garish purple tent was out of sight. Just as well. His attempts at seduction had gone... less than great. Apparently, that enticing alien had been just Force Sensitive enough to sense the, err, enhancements he had done to his body. Or so he assumed, given the look of pure horror she had given him the moment his right hand bumped into her. Oh well, some people had no appreciation for perfection.
Speaking of perfection, his gaze fell on a remarkably attractive human. What looked like a human, anyway, though these days it was hard to tell. Not that he cared all that much. Even better, he could feel the telltale aura of a fellow Darksider.
Making his way towards this exquisite specimen, the foolishly narrow-minded alien already forgotten, he flashed her a flawless smile. "Why, hello there. How delightful seeing someone that's not so..." pausing to look at the largely non-Force-Sensitive crowd, an arrogant look flashed in his eyes. "... disgustingly plebeian."
Objective: Meet new people; mingle
Location: The Beach
Near: [member="Lark"] (approaching)
Having consumed a few drinks in the Casino, Zoltan had the feeling that level of noise inside was escalating. Screams of excitement and dismay caught his attention too often, as he tried to let his body relax, begging his mind to wander. But to no avail. Everything was overstimulating: the noise, the smells, the taste of smoke seemed to linger in the air. Swiftly changing his mind, Zoltan had soon left.
He had wandered out of the casino, a third glass of Corellian rum held in his right hand, and now felt his shoes sinking into the ever-shifting sands of the beach. The air here was fresh, not a smell of smoke to be found. It was quiet, other than small-talk conversations Zoltan overheard as he would pass people by. He stopped at a table, and placed his drink upon it. Was it hot out here, or was it the liquor?
Probably both.
Gingerly, with his tingling fingers, Zoltan unbuttoned the top three buttons of his white shirt, revealing just enough of his toned pectorals to really let them breathe in the wind. He gave a sigh of relief as he bent over to remove his boots, letting his toes curl into the sand. Lastly, he rolled up his dark washed jeans. Now this was how he was going to relax... much better than that hyper-active casino.
Grabbing his drink from the table, Zoltan looked out to the waves to find another man bending over to adjust his own jeans before standing there alone.. also with a drink in his hand. He looked to be lost in thought, or maybe a drunken stupor. Really though, what was the difference? Taking another sip of his rum, Zoltan walked out to the man, stopping to his right. He watched the rise and fall of the waves and took another sip of his drink. Then, he turned only his head to face the stranger (Lark), his mind pleasantly fuzzy, "Isn't it nice to be able to stand here, take a deep breath of fresh air, and enjoy the view?"
Objective: 2
Others in area: [member="Sasha Santhe"][member="Fiolette Raaf"] [member="Darth Carnifex"]
Darth Banshee the Queen of Serenno, was having a bit time away from duties of court. She was going to gamble, and have few drinks. She had a few guard members with her, as she took her seat in private booth. She was going to be talking a trade deal, whilst gambling. She had a few potential customer here, as well as a few people who also be trying to get new custom. She turned her head, and saw a familiar face The Emperor, he was having a talk to someone. She knew better than to interfere when he was talking, she maybe a queen, but he far out ranked her. Though she did give them a nod, to show respect.
They playing a simple card game, whilst talking about ships, guns and slaves. She was quite immersed in it, as she could read the minds of others, apart from the emperor as he was species that could not read minds, or have there minds read.
She didn't want to make to obvious, she she lost the odd hand. She did not real care about losing pocket change. She was more interested in who was actually interested in buying from serenno. As she had to keep the plebs busy and fed, otherwise they might get ideas above there station.
Fiolette frowned when she got Taeli's message. There was an audible sigh as she turned back to her Star Destroyer magazine and spent the rest of the half hour reading through it. The waves crashed upon the rocks and rolled along the shoreline and all Fiolette really wanted to do was to be with Taeli. She missed Genesia, there they could be together without anyone to bother them. Pushing her lips to the side the Galidraani set the magazine on top of the others, Fiolette ran a hand through her hair. The day before battle and here she was unwinding, many would wonder what ran through her mind before such plans. She took the holodevice in her lap and grabbed it once more as loose strands of red hair hung over her shoulder.
She quickly backspaced the word yacht, and wrote in luxury ranch estate. Backspaced that, and typed in ranch, no that wasn't going to do it either. Boredom was a demon of its own kind, Fiolette exhaled and laid back in the lounge chair. She began to type in another search and decided to look through the real estate listings within the Confederacy.
Deserts always had secrets. Some Desserts too! But that was a thought for a different time. No no. Now was time to focus on the secret. Oh, what a good secret it would be, once it was found out. Or would it? Hard to know if a secret is good or bad! As such, on this quest to find the secret, Dubiety wandered across the sands of Cantonica, unknowingly just heading for the beach instead of the vast desert.
The sound of rushing water was the first clue he went the wrong way. He was determined, however, to be correct in his path, high stepping through the sand without a care in the world. Until he reached the waters edge. There he paused, staring down at the water now lapping over his feet. A frown formed below his mask as he continued to stare. With out looking over to the pair of Sith that he had walked by he raised his voice to call to them.
"Why is there a beach in the middle of the desert?"
Location: Beach Nearby: [member="Zoltan Charrel"] [member="Dubiety"] and many others
Lark turned his head as he heard a series of splashes from behind him, another figure pushed his way through the soft currents. Although Lark could sense the dark side from this man, he couldn't immediately sense any hostile intent. There was something else odd about him, although he couldn't pin down what it was. The man was enjoying a drink just like him, and judging by his question it appeared as though he only sought to strike up a friendly conversation. Lark looked at the stranger with cool eyes but a warm smile, the cool ocean breeze blowing his hair back. "I always welcome any moment of peace," Lark responded smoothly. "They are so few and far between these days, it seems. And it doesn't appear as though that will change anytime soon."
"My name is Lark," he said to the unfamiliar face. Lark couldn't be sure whether or not the man was a member of the Empire, he had been gone for over a year and missed the arrival of several new Sith. And even before Lark departed, it wasn't as though he had met every single person who was apart of the Empire. Lark eyed the man curiously. "Perhaps you can provide some input for this internal quandary I'm facing. This beach, the glistening water, the call of the gulls, that endless horizon, all of it is fake. Artificial. A lie. Can we truly enjoy the view knowing its all simply a projection?"
Lark shook his head, taking a sip of rum. He could no longer taste it. That was no effect of the alcohol, it meant that something dark was beginning to stir within him. The Lark that laughed and chatted in the casino, the Lark that pondered on the serenity of the beach, both were gone. "No, the more I come to think of it, I don't believe this place is special at all," he said with a voice as soft as silk. "Despite all the pleasant thoughts and visions of peace this pretend beach produces, it really is all just a lie. Empty. Worthless."
Before the stranger could say anything, another bizarre presence approached from behind, and asked a question that Lark was thoroughly unprepared for. The question brought out a gentle chuckle, and Lark reverted back to his previous, kinder persona. He turned and walked towards the towering figure, considering the question. "I'm afraid you might be grievously lost. This beach is fake you see, a small section of a much larger casino. I'm unsure how you managed to miss the desert, but you're more than welcome to converse with us, if you'd like." A part of Lark wanted to see this figure drunk. "Or, if there's something you're searching for, perhaps I might be of aid?"
Darth Callidus watched the gambling tables, smile on his face, blue eyes intense. Dressed in his fine apparel, with its stylish flare and modern design, he looked every part the individual that should be in the Canto Bight Casino. The crowds were indulging, partaking in the festivities, both relishing in the good fortune and wallowing in the bad. Not that it mattered to these beings, as each one of them were likely richer than some small cities combined. Several Twi'leks nearby hugged against an elderly human, watching him throw dice with gnarled fingers and deep wrinkles across his face. Callidus paused, observing, watching the dice as they tumbled... and as the old man lost his bet. The Sith Lord moved on, seeking out something very specific within the casino, someone specific, more precisely.
This is a house of odds, statistics, Callidus thought to himself as he brushed by more aliens trying their luck. So it should go that what I seek shouldn't be too long in coming...
Within, Callidus felt his stomach tighten. A moment of apprehension, a faint apparition of panic, as the possibility of not finding what he needed passed through his mind. It was gone, however, the moment he righted himself, as he reached out to grasp a tall glass of champagne from a passing hostess. Callidus could feel the deep, dark, clawing hunger within; it felt as though a pacing beast walked within a cage made of glass, scraping long claws against the brittle surface, knowing it was only a matter of time before it broke through. It had been several days since Callidus had eaten, he knew that controlling the urge within was key to living a long existence for his people, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Where before any sentient was capable of sating the hunger, now Callidus only truly felt fulfilled when partaking in those who were Force sensitive. Something about them just satisfied, like eating a finely cooked side of steak, whereas non-sensitive sentients were comparable to stale bread...
Both were capable of feeding oneself, but there was a clearly far more enjoyable meal of the two.
And then it happened. From somewhere within, Callidus felt it. That tug, like a small fish that nibbled on the hook, so did this particular morsel catch the attention of the Sith Lord. Continuing to move leisurely around the gambling floor, Callidus paused, feeling the sensation, focusing on it, filtering out the clearly obvious presences of the other Sith in the area; he had no care for them at this present time, instead all of his interest fell onto a small glimmer in the Force, a barely perceivable caress of the mystical power, someone who was using it to cheat? Callidus saw a young female Zabrak, dressed in a flowing red gown that matched the intensity of the decorated tattoos on her cheeks. As before, the Sith merely watched, observing, as she rolled the dice again - and was rewarded with a subtle manipulation felt through the Force, as she forced the dice to land how she wished. The crowd around the table cheered, chips were sent toward the Zabrak, and she picked up the dice again with a knowing smile to those around her.
It seems her luck has changed, Callidus thought, his eyes darkening as he waited. Let's see how it favors her now...
The dice were thrown, the Zabrak fully expecting to hit another perfect result. She reached out with the Force, clumsily, clearly not trained beyond using it for what she needed. It was almost too easy for Callidus to simply send a tendril of his own telekinesis toward the table, shifting the dice around her influence; and given the Zabrak's lack of power and skill, Callidus supposed she would barely even register the interruption, but her reaction certainly held a moment of surprise that was covered up quickly. Callidus could commend her, this wasn't the first time she had done this, obviously.
And now to keep turning that luck bad.
Taking a sip of his drink, the Sith Lord smiled to himself, as he continued to ruin the young female's dice charade. Now that Callidus had his prey, it was simply a matter of time before he shifted the pieces that brought her to him. With the next roll, Callidus nudged the dice once more, causing the result to bust; as he did with the next, and the next, and the next...
The Prowler held a disdain for all things living. Lest they were the subject of his blade, then he loved the living, that is until they were dead. So that is what the Prowler was doing whilst the rest partied. He was lazing around some tomb with his newest play thing. A near human by the name of Henry or some such. The reasons The Prowler had tied him up, stuffed him in a trunk and drove him too some strange altar in the middle of a dessert was anyone's guess. Probably something to do with his sociopathic nature. Something that had been apart of him since before he was dead. Now he was undead and still very much the same sociopath, so he went about the menial task of dragging Henry... Or was it Joe? Out of the trunk.
The man kicked and writhed in a attempt to get free but The Prowler held firm. He was used to the struggle of his victims and had even begun to enjoy it. He placed the man on the altar and studied him for a moment. He was of average nature, with thinning brown hair, a lip far to fat, and brown wishing well eyes wrought with fear.
"P-please!" The Prowler grabbed hold of the man's jaw and forced his mouth open.
He inspected the teeth and decided he'd like a few as trophies.
"Don't swallow," The Prowler said simply as he raised the pommel of his sword with his free hand and brought it down upon the man's face.
Teeth were sent flying in every direction and The Prowler picked one up. Yes, a canine would do nicely. The man's screams rang out throughout the tomb and they brought a smile to The Prowler's lips. He turned to face the man and went about the methodical process of carving runes into the man's flesh. He screamed as the blade cut his flesh, it was a beautiful symphony that the dark jedi worked too. By the time he was done the man had died, but only for now. The Prowler raised his hands and a green aura began to glow from the runes carved on Joe's body. Joe's body shot up right and he screamed again.
Truly his screams were starting to get annoying. "Don't bite Joe,"
"My names GRAGH,"
The Prowler shoved his hand down the mans throat and removed his vocal cords....
Elani could not help but look on helplessly as her captor sat ahead of her, watching her every move closely. Her violet eyes stared back at him. The man was rather hefty. His breathing droned out most of the ambient noise from the outside. Elani did not take her eyes off him for a second.
"See something you like, princess?"
"Something I'd like to break."
"Keep sweet talkin' me. We'll see who breaks."
The entire time, Elani was weaving a spell that was worming it's way into her captor's mind, subtly influencing his mind to her side. It would take some time before it was fully planted into his mind. "You do know who I am, yes?"
"Elani Zambrano. Daughter of the Emperor and my golden ticket."
"But, do you know who I am?"
"A little runt that won't shut her-hng!." Elani's captor then dropped to one knee, writhing in agony.
"Ah, there you are. Can you hear me? Are you alright?" Elani leaned forward, watching her captor fall under the influence of her spell.
"Hng..ah!" Elani's captor sat there on all fours, breathing heavily, before returning to his feet. "Yes, my lady. I hear you."
"Good, now get me out of these restraints, slave."
"Yes, my lady." Elani's fresh mindslave walked over to her and undid the rope that kept her in the chair. Elani rose to her feet and stepped forward.
"Now, sit in the chair." The thrall obeyed her orders and sat where she was once held. "Tell me. Where do you keep the girls." The thrall pointed over to a wall. "What's over there?"
"Secret door, my lady. You only need to knock three times for it to open."
"Is there anyone else there?"
"Several guards, but nothing you cannot handle, my lady."
"Good. Give me your weapon." The thrall handed Elani his blaster. Elani took it. She then walked over to a nearby table and grabbed a small knife. She returned to her thrall and placed the knife in his lap. "When your friend gets back, you take this knife and plunge it into his heart. Understand?"
"Yes, my lady."
"Good boy." Elani then walked over to the wall her thrall indicated to her and knnocked three times, as advised. A secret door slid open, revealing a hidden stairway that went below the ground. Elani descended the stairs and the door closed behind her.
Fiolette wanted to be upset, but honestly these things were to be expected. She replied to Taeli's text that she understood and would look forward to spending time with her beloved when they could. The rehead turned back to her magazine and continued to read it, while sipping that Cantonican Cactus Sunrise. The sound of the other beach goers faded in and out as she became engrossed in her magazine, a finger on the next page as it went over the older Imperial designs. Fiolette shifted her legs crossing one over the other, as she flipped from one page to the other. The holodevice on the stand beside the stack of magazines, as the wonder of property still sat on her mind. They didn't need another home, they had Stormvale and Serene Sunset, but Balance knows those ranches between Bothuwai and Leritor were beautiful, oh and the tropical bungalow on Shimia? Well that tore it, she was certainly going to organize a small real estate showcase for herself.
The Galidraani set her magazine down and took her holodevice once more and began to look through the Confederacy's luxury real estate advertisements. Another small text to Taeli, Fio was more than considering purchasing new property and inquired if her beloved wouldn't mind a more rustic vacation home. Oh and then she found on the advertisements that there were asteroids, even a moon for sale. How fancy she thought to herself and gazed through the listings. After a while she set the device down again and swung her legs over the chair's edge and stood up to have a stretch and a walk. She tied a towel around her waist, and then grabbed her holodevic. A walk would be lovely, being about to actually see the ocean and enjoy the sight of the waves.
"Oh, yes. That might be helpful. A second set of eyes! Or a third. Who knows how many eyes I have behind the mask hmm?" The masked figure laughed at his own joke, glancing finally from the waters to his fellow Sith. "Dark secrets buried in the sands. That's what I'm searching for. Secrets of power that our very ancestors hid in their games and tests." There was a nod from the tall man before he pulled out his com, dialing in to his partner in crime.
"Prowler, have you found anything else out about the location of the tomb? I seem to have gotten myself lost again, though I might have some new help."
