Burying the Hatchet (Thraxis)

[WolfMortum]

While the rest of the Galaxy had moved forward in the months that had past, Brennan had barely shifted his focus in how he carried himself, the weight of his past weighing him down against all his training, a regime that was comprised of exhausting routines, leaving little time for rest and relaxation where it wasn't utterly vital for the consistency of focus and border-line mental health. In the down time that he did allow himself, his attention shifted away from the physical exertion of his talents to exercising the mind, keeping up with political channels of the holo-net and watching for any hint of progress in the war against the Galactic Alliance, least someone else have the gall to enter FO Space in an aggressive manner that might allow for him to wet his blade with the blood of their enemy.

His path on Virgillia had come to focus solely on combat, shaping himself into more of an agent for violence than many of the others who sought to focus on a multitude of avenues, whether piloting or technological advances, diplomacy or social standing; Brennan's actions were spoken louder than his words, most often the best way to understand him was to watch him during his sessions sparring against himself, as if fighting a ghost, his practice of the forms of combat once taught to him long ago were growing far swifter, every strike far heavier and as every passed and his frustrations continued to build, his patience and sense of reason continued to fade, the darkside of the force swirling to his every movement, channeled through his arms which drove the dirk forward, wrenching the steel blade through the air...

It was one of the many restless nights that he had experienced of late, that of which came to turn his attention away from the war. Sat with his legs crossed perched upon the end of his bed while the other disciples slept in all their bliss filled ignorance of his troubles, his eyes narrowed, darting across the scripture that scrolled the page, a holo-feed from the north of the galaxy mentioning a name that caused his presence in the force to distort, the room around him seeming to grow cold as his eyes took him away from the moment, looking to the back of his mind of which he recalled the last time he had spoken to his former Master, [member="Veiere Arenais"] of whom he had up until now presumed dead following the Sith attack on Svivren. The name was far too familiar, one that could not be dismissed as coincidence nor a fault of the public record displayed before him, if there had been an ounce of truth to the article then Brennan needed to know. If his old Mentor remained alive, had been biding his time as Brennan had undergone years of torture, enslaved by the Sith...-Brennan's hands grasped the hand-held device so firmly that it took only the prospect of it all for the device to snap through the middle, his hands falling to his knees, dropping the two pieces of the datapad to the floor with a clatter.

The article had mentioned a political shift in the north, claiming that Veiere Arenais had returned 'home' to Commenor. A world of which was not often talked about yet they had been made aware of it in the case that any of their people were caught off guard closer to the center of the galaxy, a place of political refuge should they need it. Commenor had once, some time ago reached out to the First Order and offered them a place of diplomatic standing, an unofficial peace of sorts.
Leaving the Disciples quarters he carried his field gear out with him, seeking the nearest hanger in which he might find a means of traversing off world in a quiet manner. His brows furrowed, his emotions high about him and the demeanor in which he moved was rather more staunch than was commonly known for him, his shoulders had become tense and the air about him could be cut finely like a knife through butter for all that he felt over this apparent rumor. He needed to gather information about this world, this news that his former mentor might still be alive, he needed to do so quietly so not to alarm his superiors. It was a matter of secrecy, one that might get him killed yet if it all proved to be true...The two would reunite in the most violent manner possible for all that Brennan held him accountable for.

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Nar Shaddaa - Two weeks later​

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The risks of his endeavor had increased in Brennan's absence from the Bastion, his departure not something he had recorded, he had relayed his whereabouts to [member="Kriel Firin"] yet neglected to explain himself before cutting off the communication with the assurance that he would be returning in the near future. It had taken some time to sift through information public to those of the First Order, and with his position among the Knights of Ren, the government of Avalonia had been far more willing to part with potentially fragile information rather than push their luck with him having mentioned his Masters name within the Knights of Ren. The Order itself he had left out though as a Master among their ranks, Kriel Firin's records must have held enough leverage for the officer he had spoken to, to lose his breakfast over the threat of indifference.

The lines that he was crossing were serious, beyond any form of insubordination that he had even dared to show in the past yet for all that he knew of the strict policies of the Knights of Ren, he couldn't see past the image of the Jedi Knight he used to know, he of whom had disobeyed the Jedi Council and abandoned them, he of whom had not been there to fight the Sith alongside him. The possibility that all of this might have been different had Veiere been there with those who had otherwise left with him for Coruscant, burned something fierce within him.

A new contact had come about with a little more investigation into the private records surrounding [member="Lady Kay"], the Queen Monarch of the trade world. By now Kriel might well have traced his movements, he might have connected the dots and Brennan upon his return might well suffer the consequences, yet another name had come about, bringing with it too that old proverb; "The Enemy of my Enemy..." the words came a mutter under his breath as he moved into the old dirty bar filled with criminals and thugs of all kinds, his eyes scanning the room for the one known as [member="Thraxis"], a man who Brennan had reached out to ahead of his arrival, mentioning that they had a future victim in common...

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[Thraxis]

A dark cloud wrapped the floor of the Cold Carapace, a little known bar on the outskirts of Nar Shadaa, though the Tenebrous aesthetic was a rare one to behold. Thugs encroached around a table, a series of cards laid scattered about as a dead corpse was dragged along the floor by what was once a Sultry Maiden now turned decrepit and weary from the bloodbath that was the Cold Carapace. In the corner underneath the vents were the dark haze rolled sat a man wrapped in a darker vestment, cold Phrik wrapped around his body as his pink face contrasted with the dark dreary colours. A single knife rolled around his fingers as a Weequay and a Twi'lek sat at the table behind them, bickering about their relationship on the Graveyard.

A large bulky man walked over, a barrel dragged behind with a single wire of tube rolling out as Thraxis responded with a nod, pressing the tube into his mouth and starting to suck out the Alcohol contents of the barrel next to him. As he drunk the contents his free hand rattled a tune on the table, his blade no longer rolling between his fingers as he played the common 'risk a finger for no reward, but look super dope while you do' game that was so partial to the Thugs that lavished every corner of the bar. With blinding precision and speed he left in his wake a silhouette of his hand, slithering dents made coils in his fingered armour as boredom seeped in.

"MY mother was right about you, I should never have married a Weequay!" The Twi'lek behind him said, storming out of the bar as a few thugs heads turned, taking a step out of their seat to chase down their prize. Thraxis turned with apathy in his eyes, looking as she made her overinflated exit. He turned behind him, the Weequay bordering on tears as he nudged him, looking to see the Thugs with a thirst in their eyes.

"Ya might wanna save ya, missus before she becomes all used up." He chuckled, not caring the ramifications that would come as the Weequay grabbed his gun, heading out behind them as Thraxis bent back on his chair, a foot pressing against the table as the slurping sound still radiated from around him. "I really shouldn't have got here two hours early." He groaned, no longer playing 'risk a finger for no reward, but look super dope while you do' game and not just letting the darkness roll over him, plumes of alcoholic air rolling up and dissipating the cold air in front of him as he contemplated leaving. It wasn't the other guy's fault he was early, but that didn't mean Thraxis was displeased
[member="Brennan Cabrol"]

 

[WolfMortum]

It seemed that as soon as he had entered the bar, the patrons within found reason to give him some room. Stepping aside, he watched as an upset female departed with a fair bit of haste, turning back to eye several of the men following her out in a more controlled pace, a deviant look to every one of them before the last seemed to trail them, a sense of urgency, desperation and guilt rolling off of the males presence as Brennan followed the group with a studious glance. It wasn't out of care for the woman that he watched their movements closely but rather the fact that such a world was known for it's lack of civilization and that every person near and far to him could be considered in some part guilty. Hired killers, thieves and far worse called this little cesspool home and to those with even the faintest ability to hear, knew well the stories that flowed out of Nar Shaddaa, a reputation that surprisingly didn't affect it's commerce as corruption was rife within it's criminal governance, crime lords and street gangs dancing the tune of leadership in this downtrodden corner of the galaxy.

Circling in on the one man who didn't seem motivated to go after the girl, Brennan recognized him by his mugshot that came up with the news of his late bounty. Everyone had a file on the holo-net, a record of their past deeds that could be dug up with the right incentive, number of credits or the contacts and power to pull it off. The First Order too having a number of spies and information brokers capable of doing far worse. [member="Thraxis"] mugshot however was easier to find than his association and history with Commenor's queen, thus approaching him was perhaps the only certainty in this game of snakes, a vipers nest if ever he had known one.

Stopping just shy of the booth, he looked to Thraxis, speaking none as he gauged the appearance of his temporary contact. Brennan couldn't determine just what could of outfit Thraxis might have had going for him though if he was half way intelligent then Brennan suspected he'd have some sort of information to pass his way. "Thraxis..." he said plainly, his tone fading off though his eyes not leaving the other male. The moment passed for what might've held a feeling of drifting reality before movement soon broke it off, Brennan taking a seat without so much as an invitation, sitting across from the other with his hands placed palms flat against the table surface that stood between them. The general appearance around Brennan would feel disconnected somehow, he wore nothing to give away his affiliation to the First Order, yet it was his aura that would be the defining factor in this meeting, a sort of lack of general direction in him that left first impressions most uncomfortable for common people. On the other hand his stare was constant, his eyes containing a certain emptiness, as if his conscience was missing a few pieces. "What can you tell me about the [member="Lady Kay"]...". It was not she of whom he was most interested in, yet it was she of whom he would be more likely to track down than the Jedi Knight he sought with such a passion.

 

[Thraxis]

His brow raised at the uninterested appearance, his cold dead eyes as if taking a page out of his own book. He rolled up his leg slowly dropping from the table as he pressed his elbow against the table, a brow raised as an essence of calm seemed to keep this one under control. "Yeah, that's the name. Try not to wear it out." He scoffed, he wasn't really interested in taking a meeting of this calibre seriously, he could count to the hundreds and still would be nowhere close to the number of meetings he has held in bars like this.

He took a seat with no invitation, "Oh yeah ya know. Whatever. Not like I could have been holding that for anyone." He responded if this one wanted to play a little game of dark and foreboding Thraxis had full intention of tearing it all down. He wasn't about to let this one stroke himself off to his edginess. His head rolled out from the recesses of darkness that rolled from the vent, his face coming into full view as horror struck. Long jarring cuts etched deep into his skin, his cheeks dark and burnt while a thin trail of frozen blood rolled down from his forehead down to his lips, looking more like some sort of freakshow than a Zeltron.

He looked the man up and down, sizing him up. Doesn't seem all too threatening. Looks like some pipsqueak trying to play himself up as tough.He thought to himself as black pupils darted up and down, with a cold harshness that only time could bring. He inquired a most strange question, he was a fountain of information on the topic, but he hadn't spent millions of credits to pass it off as free knowledge. "Uh huh. Yeap. Interesting. Curiosity has been peaked." He responded, amusement filling his words as he looked around the room, leaning in closer to give some of his juiciest information. "Well. I don't give information out for free, but you look like a bad sort." He whispered with a macabre tone, though in his mind nothing short of joviality crossed his mind. "She is, and don't tell no one else this. She is a Biological Women." he tapped a finger against his nose with a knowing look, tugging the kid's string. He felt a tad disrespected so far, he had called him taken a seat without a proper greeting and taken a seat without even giving a hello or anything of the sort and worse of all he tried to play himself off as a Dark and Foreboding man yet looked maybe a dozen suns old, which hurt because being dark and foreboding was his Schtick.
[member="Brennan Cabrol"]

 

[WolfMortum]

The attitude was not unexpected, the environment of which the two shared was well known for inspiring sarcasm, bad humor and more often than either of the two, blaster shots in the back; yet Brennan had not too long ago witnessed the anger of the Supreme Leader of the First Order, he of whom in comparison to [member="Thraxis"] held about himself a certain power that one could not only come to respect upon first impressions, but in showing himself so too diminish the opinions one might have of anyone else looking to deter the might of the First Order. Thraxis wasn't one of those people, to Brennan's knowledge he knew nothing of the First Order and even less of Brennan's own affiliations to it; suffice it to say that in looking across the table to the man who spoke with a wealth of skepticism, the younger males expression did not change. He was barking up the wrong tree trying to encourage an irrational response, his passive-aggressive humor didn't so much as register in the way that Brennan watched and listened to him, he could play whatever games he so wished with himself but Brennan on the other hand would sit in silence until he was done with his piece.

Thraxis was a somebody, he was a man with an identity. An ego, a proud personality and arguably lacking a certain amount of reason yet none the less he was his own person and there were two simple facts about people. They all had a price, and they all had something to lose. Brennan Cabrol on the other hand was a name, it was not what he was but who he used to be and the life that had been taken from him. He had for the most part died the day the Sith had murdered every friend and person he cared for within the enclave of Svivren, his funeral had been the years that had followed, torturous and humiliating. They had broken him down and given him no sign of hope, nothing to yearn for. No hint of a future and no memory left to encourage a smile. He had nothing to lose, most unlike his counterpart, he was the embodiment of the Knights of Ren, he represented the Disciples of their secretive Order yet if he were to die, the First Order would in no way suffer for it, there would come no difference in this position in the galaxy should he lose his life and if Thraxis was not willing to play ball, then Brennan would simply need to find another way.

Exhaling slowly through his nose, his eyes lingered upon Thraxis almost as if he were staring through the man. Though the criminal on the other side of the table might not sense it, darkness surrounded them in everything that Brennan felt, it whispered to him in the quiet of his mind, it tempted him into darker thoughts pleading for him to get frustrated, lash out, take the dirk strapped around his right leg and reach across the table to plunge it into this mans throat for all his toying with Brennan and yet these were only his thoughts, his mind speaking to him of which could be ignored for the sake of the present. The Force liked to play upon his mind in such ways, goading him into crossing some sort of line, as if morals still applied to him in today's light. Perhaps to some degree they did by the expectations of the Knights of Ren, yet out here killing this man would be as common a sight as the female who had fled from the others. Nar Shaddaa really was that depraved. Pushing these desires aside, Brennan continued to wait, wishing to hear a serious answer for which might push their conversation in the right direction. He did not much care for this mans amusement, he had a simple goal in mind and that was learn of this woman, and by extension determine the truth of his former Mentor, and then return to the Bastion back on Virgillia before his Master decided to come looking for his head. As if to encourage Thraxis further, he gave only a name by way of response.

"Veiere Arenais".

 

[Thraxis]

Thraxis rolled his eyes, now the guy wasn't talking. His fingers rattled on the table as his eyes widened, a flat smile drawn across his face as he shrugged at the name. It was just that, a name. Kay had a million allies and each one vanished quicker than the last, sure this one was to be wed, but did that mean much to him? Not really. Just another target to help push Kay along in his own sadistic game. "Flannigan McNash" He responded flatly, the dark tendrils wrapping around him done nothing to his psyche, he couldn't even sense the force, though that didn't mean he didn't have a knack for using it.

He looked back and forth, searching for cameras maybe he was on some game show, his head bobbing under the table with no success. "Well shit. There ain't even no cameras." He said s he scratched the back of his head, pushing himself back to go to the bar. Before doing so he turned, looking with a cold dead glare at the child that tried to play with him. "Now, Imma give you a second chance at first impressions. I'm going to get myself another drink. Then I am going to come to this table, sit down and you are going to have a goddamn conversation, not a game of twenty questions." He responded with a chuckle, taking his time as he scooted over to the Bar, a hand whisking the Barkeep away as he poured him a toxic beverage, the scent of alcohol rolling up in the air as a few others turned from the potent stench.

He finished the green liquor in the span of a few seconds before turning around walking over to the table and taking a seat. A hard thud as the chair splintered, a single dagger of wood sticking out and pressing against his Phirik as he looked at the man. "Now that you have had time to think. Introduce yourself." His hand whisked over the table as if giving him a chance to speak if his words weren't careful this meeting would be over faster than he could kill a baby.
[member="Brennan Cabrol"]

 

[WolfMortum]

He had been looking for some form of acknowledgement to the name he had been given, details didn't matter so long as this man could confirm the livelihood of Veiere Arenais. It didn't go his way, to which Thraxis seemed to remove himself in order to go and find himself another beverage. Closing his eyes a moment, his frustrations seemed to build within him, this was all so much more difficult than it needed to be and this thug was doing his utmost to make Brennan work for the information. If random acts of violence were something that the First Order condoned alike those of the Sith then perhaps this might have been a little more straight forward; however, this wasn't official business and Thraxis wasn't someone that Brennan wanted looking into his origin. Trying to get along with these sorts of people took far too much effort...

Leaning forward, he buried his elbows against his knees, his hands hidden now beneath the table as he leaned into it, his gaze to the seat of which Thraxis had been sitting only moments ago. He was still trying to toy with Brennan, still trying to fish for some sort of hint as to his intentions whether he did it purposely or otherwise. Every action, every moment was a hint to the minds eye of another. Body language spoke a thousand words, for example the fact that Thraxis had been sitting so casually, not threatened in the slightest, not even on edge in a place like this. It was familiar to him and even in the presence of a stranger, he needed not concern himself for he knew people here. It was a mental note Brennan might need to keep under thumb in the case that he ever need to find the man once more.

As he returned however, Brennan's gaze lifted to catch a glimpse at the others expression; he still seemed to focus on some need for an introduction, some need to discuss aspects of their lives that would be entirely irrelevant the moment Brennan stepped out that door and too, out of [member="Thraxis"]' life once again. He wasn't going to give his name, no matter how beneficial their discussion might have been, any glimpse into Brennan's identity could open up into a trail that might lead Thraxis to Svivren. If that were the case then there was a chance that news would spread to Veiere and there, his element of surprise would be thrown out the window along with his tolerance for this man.

"Why do you wish to know my name...It's of no meaning to you" Brennan questioned him, his head tilting back in skeptical regard now, his eyes on the other showing more curiosity now than anything he had expressed since entering the room, "Do you expect we will be friends? Do you plan on digging into my background once I'm gone?..." Brennan was a moment and the harder Thraxis pushed, the more fleeting that moment became. Reaching for his right pocket, he lifted his left hand in a calming gesture, slowly moving his right hand to withdraw a credit chip from his jacket and without wanting to put the other on edge, he placed it to the table surface and slid it into the center between he and Thraxis. "I assure you, you will discover less about me compared to what you might find on this chip...-All I want to know is if Veiere Arenais lives, and how to get to him"; Brennan did not plan on being cheated here, though his hand lifted from the credit chip and he leaned slowly back into his seat, both hands coming in to his chest, crossing his arm and burying his right hand into beneath the left side of his jacket. "Is a minute worth a hundred credits" He added now sharing the other mans skepticism in open disregard, "Can you not spare five for an interested party. I'm not here for you, I want the Jedi...".

 

[Thraxis]

Thraxis pressed his fingers at the bridge of his nose, it was like dealing with an Autistic kid, they were determined to be dickheads even if it killed them. "Look. I don't have any intention of being your friend." He responded as he looked down, taking a sip of his drink through a bendy straw, "Nor could I care less about who you are or what you are." He raised his head, a brow raised as a digit extended towards him. "Quite frankly. You aren't that important." This kid seemed to think the world of him as if Thraxis really was engaged in knowing him, and maybe the truth would sting, but it was better to face such a reality now than in the future.

He watched as he tried to pass credits as if he was some common vagrant. Sure Credits loosened up any hands, but it would take much more than a few hundred "Uh huh. I'm sorry. Do you think that the millions I spent on finding everything I can on Lady Kay can be passed off as something as small as this." He said as he tossed the credit in his hand, flicking it back and forth between his fingertips with cat-like grace. As it bounced between his fingers his free hand pulled his drink to his lips, a long drawn out slurp followed by a satisfied sigh as he placed the empty drink on the table deciding maybe the young one needed to learn some proper etiquette.

"Now, Imma give you some proper advice, cause ya just seem a bit out of your element here." He clarified pushing himself back with a pendulous swing his head consumed in the smothering dark smoke, "When you meet someone in a shady bar. You tell them who you are." He stated, taking in a deep breath of the gases that surrounded him, not knowing if the stuff was poison or not. "The next you do is ask them what they know. And finally followed by what you can offer." He slowly pulled himself back up, looking at the credits with a dulled gaze. "Now then, for what you have brought..." He slid his finger along the table, tapping with a methodic tone, "I can tell you he is alive. And that he is engaged." It was all pretty common knowledge, he would need something far more weighty to get words from him. "Now, if you want more. Well then here is a little tip." He gave that knowing tap once again, "You get me Rare booze and I talk more. You get me weapons I can use, I talk more. Credits aren't the way to loosening my words." He finished, sliding the single credit back over to the man, uninterested in such petty change.
[member="Brennan Cabrol"]

 

[WolfMortum]

Alive and engaged...

The credit chip lifted from the table the moment that [member="Thraxis"] gave it an element of freedom, Brennan's left hand sweeping out to catch it, the item drawn to him through the force in a simple measure of practice that he might bother little. Once upon a time, Veiere Arenais would have shunned the idea of a Jedi Knight being engaged or even considering the prospect of a relationship; now apparently he was engaged to be wed. Had he found happiness in the background while the one he claimed to have cared for as a son had been tormented by the loss of all things; it was as if the past had been completely undone, stripped down of all that Brennan had once believed, if this mans word was true then it only encouraged Brennan to want vengeance. It was selfish, the need to satisfy himself with the blood of his former Jedi Master and yet this was what he needed, perhaps with his past behind him, in some deluded sense of new found hatred, he might gain the strength to push forward into a stronger future for the First Order, chained not by the failures of the past Jedi.

[member="Thraxis"] by this point should have taken the hint, the need for anonymity far outweighed Brennan's concern for the other to feel catered for; still it wasn't as though he had been given nothing. His right hand that had been buried within his jacket slowly unfurled around the handle of his lightsaber, he had been expecting some sort of backlash and was content to find that nothing too insulting had been thrown back at him. With the information he had been given, it was enough to lower his frustrations and glancing to the credit chip, he backtracked a moment, deciding instead to place it back down to the table and slide it back into the center. "Drink all you like" He remarked before rising to his feet and stepping away. It was all a great deal to process and he hadn't been ready to accept the truth, now given some little form of confirmation, he headed for the exit without so much as a farewell.

Stepping out into the streets of Nar Shaddaa was as much a bother as listening to Thraxis' attitude, he was instantly met with the prying and annoying voices of street merchants urgently trying to sell him something to make a quick cred. Pushing his way through them with a little more force than was necessary, he moved off in the direction he had come from, the public landing sector not too far further down the street, he needed only pass the run-down store fronts, the market district laced with all kinds of scum and villainy. Though who really was he to judge considering the things he was willing to do, a place like this was as well befitting of him as any; perfect for a nobody with nothing to lose and no want for personal gain.

He would remember this man though, as bothering as he was, he had left an impression.