Call It like You See It

[Keira Priest]

​

There was a quiet click before the spark caught, a small flame burst to life on the handheld lighter she held, one hand cupped around the small pinprick of warmth as she raised it to the cigarette perched at the corner of her mouth, the tip igniting as the acrid smell of smoke tainted the air. Exhaling smoke she pocketed the lighter, leaning back in her chair and returning to studying the various patrons that milled about Frida's Spaceport Cantina on the infamous planet of Nar Shaddaa, known to the galaxy for being infamous for housing a number of criminals and small-time gangs that were just trying to scrape by in the galaxy, maybe making an extra few credits here and there depending on which unlucky individual walked by next.

Keira was really no exception to that rule, though her position in the criminal underworld was a bit higher than what any of the others that stumbled about the bar drunkenly could ask for. She was none other than the Secretary for the infamous Red Ravens criminal syndicate, a group that had carved their own name into the galaxy through a number of quick takeovers and swiftly forged alliances to ensure their place of power. It would come as no surprise to her if she was eventually approached later for that same reason, but for now it was her time to relax.

It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her new position within the group, but she'd learned quickly that the job came with its own unique set of demands that she hadn't originally expected. For one, she was spending much more time in the office than she'd ever anticipated, something that didn't sit well with her. Being one of action rather than word, she'd rather be on the battlefield than behind a desk any day. Secondly, there was the more diplomatic side of things. Being one used to solving her problems usually with a lightsaber in hand, having to take part in the political side of things definitely wasn't her forte. Other than that, however, she was doing decently. That didn't mean she still couldn't want time off.

And Nar Shaddaa was the perfect place to get lost and forget your place in the bigger galaxy for the time being. Filled to the brim with every type of unsavory underworld type imaginable, there was no shortage of trouble to get into. Surprisingly enough, she wasn't one of those instigating conflict, or at least not yet. No, this particular time the youngest of the three Ticon siblings was simply there to watch and wait, for what she wasn't sure. The answer would come in due time.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

The sliding of durasteel doors. The muffled footsteps followed by heavier, metallic ones over the front lobby expanse, lost in the sound of a cantina. The glances of nearby cantina goers varied from "vaguely interested" to "couldn't care less". Jarven was okay with that...up until they slovenly strolled up to him. "They" consisted of four young-faced human males who's sobriety ranged from "Can't touch this" to "Please leave a message after the tone". They must have frequented this cantina enough to know everyone well enough, because the new arrival had piqued their interest.
"Heyyyyy!...I didn't know they sherved Shhllluummiees in this esshhtablishhment-tah!"
"Yeah, yeah! Tell 'im, Kay!"
"I bet he, uh...didn't even pass the...the smart test to get in here...He looks like a frakking moron!"
"...shhmerm...hmmmbartledoo...." This one's eyelids were drooped low and he could barely keep himself standing up.

Jarven's hatred stirred, and his hand clenched the handle of his Neuronic Whip tightly, but he knew drunks weren't worth the effort. He pushed past the 4 imbeciles, but they regrouped around him (as best as drunks can regroup).
"Woah, bro! Leaving so soon!?"
"Yeah, yeah! We're just starting with you!" This one put his hand on Jarven's shoulder plate.
"Why don'tscha buy ussch drinkshhh and sshhtay awhillle?"

Jarven smacked the hands away and said in a slow, calculated voice, "Go home. You're all drunk."
"OOOOooooOOoOooOoOOOoooo....Sshlummies gotta' mouth...We sshhould, like...teeeachh that mouth a lesshon...with our fischs..."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!"
"Let's fark this schutta up!"
"...Huuuuuhh?..."

Jarven closed his eyes and shook his head in disgust. That turned out to be a bad idea, because one of them took the opportunity to give him a drunken punch to the stomach. Although weak, this spurred the other three lively drunks to press in on him, while the fourth one stared dumbly at the events unfolding. Jarven's reflexes were already faster than that of these drunks, let alone the fact that his reflexes were cybernetically enhanced. He pulled his Neuronic Whip off from around his stomach, making sure NOT to turn it on for this fight, and ducked down. He swept the feet out from underneath one drunk with his arms, stood back up, and side-kicked another onto a nearby table, where he fell off and onto the ground. The third human tried to make threatening swinging motions to scare Jarven, but his balance was off, and he stepped backwards. This misstep temporarily saved him from Jarven's first slash with the whip, which wrapped around a nearby chair. While the drunk tried to stifle a chortle, Jarven quickly spun around and smashed the chair into the drunk, flooring him. A fragment of the chair flew up into the air and landed in a Gran's drink.

The fourth drunk, watching his friends take a beating, step forward with as much alacrity as he could muster. Jarvan simply stepped to the side to avoid his wild swing, and the drunk was soon taking a nap on one of his buddies. The Gran angrily got Jarvan's attention and wildly gestured to his drink. Jarvan looked at the drunks' bodies, rifled through one of their pockets, took out a credit stick, and tossed it to the Gran. The Gran, overjoyed, yelled something that Jarven hoped was similar to the word "cheers", and turned back to the bar.

Jarvan found a seat and tried to relax, although he knew that almost all eyes were on him now. He turned towards the drunks, but then shifted back into his seat. Those drunks were too pitiful of opposition to make or take a trophy from..., thought Jarven. I hope there are better things to do, other than beat up drunks. Otherwise, I'm not likely to advance myself and get back at Desilijic...




OOC: Tag. You're it, @Kiera Ticon

 

[Keira Priest]

Watching a group of drunks get put in their place wasn't a new sight for neither Keira or any of those that frequented the cantina, and as such most only watched with mild interest or none at all, taking the opportunity for free entertainment and doing nothing to help resolve the conflict. And once it was settled, at least for the time being, most turned back to their drink, conversation and other modes of entertainment, not giving the new arrival any further attention or even the time of day. That was the real beauty of Nar Shaddaa. No one cared who you were or where you came from, only if you had credits and were willing to spend them. Rarely did the people split hairs.

Of course, she was neither a usual at the bar, nor did she care to do any further business with the armored man. Or at least, not business in the traditional sense. She was interested in the stranger for a different reason: the skill and capacity he'd displayed in systematically taking down each of the four men, however inebriated they might have been. It was an efficiency that most in establishments such as this didn't possess, and being one who'd participated in a number of brawls over the years, her cybernetic left arm a testament to that, she could recognize and appreciate his skill for what it was. But beyond that, she knew full well his talents could be put to use under the mantle of the Red Ravens. That would come later, if indeed it did at all.

For the moment she would take the far less direct approach, which was simple observation from a distance. If the man did prove to either approach her or be approachable himself she would see about further dealings with him, but she knew from experience that it wasn't wise to strike up a conversation with one who had only just rid himself of any irritants and was now settling in for the night. For now she would play nice, studying him through the Force. It didn't appear that he was sensitive to the energy field himself, which did little to inhibit his fighting skill, or so it seemed.

With cigarette between her lips and tendrils of smoke twining up through the air to frame her face in an ethereal sort of wreath she leaned back in her chair, seated at one of the tables that were positioned towards the walls of the cantina. She'd been left blessedly alone, something that had been rare after her return from her imprisonment and recent promotion. Ravens new and old had garnered for her attention, the former for some type of formal induction into the organization, and the latter, at least in the case of her old friend Cryax, seeking her out to be sure that she was recovering at least moderately well from what had happened. It was appreciated, but she did her best recuperation when given the opportunity to work through things in her own head.

Surprisingly enough the drunken and rarely sober patrons of this particular cantina were content to let her do just that. Typically she would have drawn more attention to herself, normally by way of the lightsaber that never seemed to leave her side, but even that was tucked away in an inside pocket of the loose jacket she was wearing. Near every precaution had been taken to ensure that she would both be allowed to observe unnoticed and be able to defend herself should the need arise. And thus far, both seemed to be continuing quite smoothly.

There was still something about that new arrival that caught her eye. Curious.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

OOC: Darn, you're a good writer, @Kiera Ticon

Jarven sat down far from the bodies and tried to relax in his seat at a table. He couldn't relax, though. His body was engaged and he was set to rumble. Just stop...Calm down. You're just sitting in a bar. His mind wandered, flashing through images of the past and imaginings of the future. Stick with us...need you to...come on, Jarven. Time to go...Last of your pack...no gank will take you back now...worthless runt
Ten feet walking in similar, familiar cadence at the front door
...couldn't defend his own...weak...slow...Jarven...Stick with us, and you never be alone again...
The faintest smell of a cigarette wafts from who knows where. Jarven unknowingly clenches his fists.
...burning..choking..bleeding..bruising..left for dead..worthless..everyone dead---ALONE!
*Smack!* A pair of gloved hands smacked down in front of him, on the table.
"So...this is the infamous toughie, eh? So, you think that, just because you're a Gank, you can beat up a few drunks and that you're now the coolest thing to hit this slum?" asked a familiar voice. Jarven looked up and realized, like many of the things he experienced in his new life, that familiarity wasn't a good thing. He found a male Red Niktos staring down at him. He craned his head to find a Green Niktos, a Blue Niktos, a White Niktos, and a Yellow Niktos standing in a staggered formation behind their buddy. Niktos were just one of many species vying for mercenary renown here on Nar Shadaa. However, Ganks were the premier choice as thugs and killers for hires, and the Niktos knew that like everyone else. Jarven was already tense to begin with, and the fact that this Niktos had a pack of his own didn't help matters AT ALL. His mind was already working out logistics. He knew he would end up regretting it, but he couldn't resist the urge to say what popped into his mind.
"Oh, silly me. This must be where you gather for your Power Ranger Role Playing meetings. Is that the case, or do you all turn into Captain Planet when you come together?" Niktos have very limited facial expression, so Jarven decided to prepare for the worst reaction. Knowing the Niktos, Jarven's guess turned out quite true. Jarven was itching for the response that came. The Red Niktos stooped down and charged forward to grab Jarven. Jarven dropped to the ground on all fours and let the Niktos tumble right over him. The Niktos' face caught the side of Jarven's chair, so that one was out of the fight for at least a little while. He picked up his chair and uncoiled his whip.
Really?...You're REALLY going to do this??...*sigh* Jarven held the chair out in front of him, flicked the on switch "On", and lashed out at the Niktos' as though they were Space Lions and he was the Space Lion Tamer in a Barthum & Bainey Space Circus routine.
The closest one yelped in pain and rubbed his arm. This detered the Niktos' temporarily, but they soon came forward as one group. Noticing the shift in their stances, Jarven dropped the chair and jumped over the table. Hoping to use the table, he ducked under and tried to heave up...only to realize that it was bolted to the ground. You don't see this happening much in the Holovids...Three Niktos' closed in on the table. Before their hands could reach under and grasp for him, Jarven had unslung his Repulsor Rifle and let out a blast.
*BRANG!* For those who were watching, which was most of those in attendance, the only thing they could see was a man under a table making a loud, unnatural sound and scattering 3 Niktos' into the air. They landed without grace back onto the ground, temporarily disoriented, deafened, and dazed. Jarven slung his rifle onto his back, and popped backwards out from under the table. The Yellow Niktos rushed to the opposite side of the table, and both the Nikto and Jarven held their place, juking a little to the left and right to throw off the other opponent.
Finally, the Niktos ducked under and tried to grab Jarven's legs. Anticipating a move like this, Jarven quickly rolled over the top of the table, landed on the other side, and then dropped down. Before the Niktos could crawl out onto the other side, Jarven grabbed both of his legs, separated them, and, bracing his feet against the table's structural center pole, he yanked the Niktos' back REALLY hard. The agonizing high-pitched scream and the disconcerting pop were present before you could hear a slight empathetic wincing sound from those close enough to see what had happened.
He hadn't realized that the other Niktos' were back on their feet, and he snatched and grabbed the whip he had dropped during the rifle fiasco. They yanked him out and started to stomp on him. The pain that followed reminded Jarven that there weren't winners, only losers in life. Jarven managed to bring his whip up and latch it around the Green Niktos' head on his left and yank him to the right and Jarven released his grip on the whip. The White and the Green Niktos' fell to the ground, electrocuted and falling unconcious. The Red Niktos stepped up to his right side and hoisted him off the ground. He then held Jarven in a lock whilst the Blue Niktos stepped forward to punch and claw at his mid section. Jarven's armor held, but it was still hurting his mid-section.
The Blue Niktos leaned forward and said, "Where are you're Gank friends now, punk!? Although, if they're all as weak as you, they probably have already died out really quickly." Something inside Jarven snapped. All of a sudden, the only thing Jarven cared about was ruining these two's lives. Jarven smashed the back of his head into the Red Niktos' nose, stepped on his right foot with his left foot, and kicked his knee backwards. After the howl of pain and Jarven's release from the Red Niktos, he lurched himself at the Blue Niktos. Confused by why the boss wasn't holding the Gank anymore, this Niktos could only feel shock and pain as Jarven went to town on him.
Two fingers to the throat, punch to midsection to remove air and delay breathing, clap hands over ears, side-kick to finish dramatically. Long term damage: minimal. Current pain: extreme. With the final blow landed, the final Niktos had fallen. Was that clapping he heard? He couldn't tell, the rush of rage winding down from his systems. Turning and moving to contemplate his next move in the comfort of a booth seat, Jarven stumbled and slid to the ground. His side suddenly hurt and he pulled his hand away from the painful area. His hand came away with blood. Farking lucky Niktos...So tired...What was the point of coming here? Fame? Fortune? Recruitment? He wasn't going to get the chance to collect a trophy from these Niktos', no one cares about a brawl in the cantina between mercenary "scum" and deadbeat drunks, and who's going to be in a cantina looking for talent instead of getting sloshed?
When Jarven first stepped inside, he thought he had a feeling that he was going to find what he was looking for in this cantina. However, it seems as though all he was going to get out of it was more scars to carry. Jarven dragged himself into the booth before falling unconscious, hoping that his reputation would keep any thieves away.

 

[Keira Priest]

OOC: So are you, [member="Jarven Zexxel"]. ^_^

Two brawls in a row, now things were becoming a bit strange. It wasn't uncommon to see this occurring when those involved were less than sober, but to have a group of decidedly not inebriated Niktos gang up on the same man from earlier was an interesting development indeed. Yet again he proved his skill and efficiency in a fight, disabling all of his attackers despite being supposedly outnumbered and perhaps even outclassed in certain areas. That spoke of perseverance and a sort of confidence in his own abilities that Keira could appreciate for more reasons than one. Knowing one's own limits and strengths and not hesitating to exploit them were virtues rare on planets like Nar Shaddaa, especially in places like this. Which meant that this one wasn't just another hired gun. No, he was something more.

There would be time to consider his particular strengths later, however, as he'd just subsequently collapsed in a nearby booth. Not much to her surprise no one lifted a finger to help him or even make sure he was still breathing. The majority of those that had been watching with some interest merely shrugged and turned away once the second fight drew to a close. Whereas she would have most likely done the same thing under different circumstances, this time she opted to be of whatever assistance she could, regardless of how much attention it would likely draw to her in the process.

Taking time to scan the cantina for any other possible threats before standing, she picked her way through this or that throng of individuals, finally stepping over to the booth in which he lay, presumably unconscious. Before beginning any type of medical procedure she first checked his pulse, finding it steady, which was always a good sign. Now came the next part in which she admittedly had little formal experience, if any. Her idea of medical attention was usually field dressing a wound before it could be tended to by any immediate professional. This would require a bit more finesse, but she was confident enough in her own improvisation to at least be able to manage. If not, well, there were always other options, though she would have much rather taken him back to Antecedent of his own accord.

Slowly she removed his helmet, careful to lay his head down gently once more, studying his countenance for a moment. It seemed the most recent hopeful for the Red Ravens was a Gank, not that it changed anything, though it would make for an interesting conversation topic later. Next she began removing the armor plating that obstructed her view of his injured side, setting all of this down on the table while shooting a look in the direction of those that would consider stealing it, communicating through her gaze that retaliation by both her and the injured male she was treating would be severe. She turned her attention back to his injury, examining it carefully and weighing her options. Healing him with the Force would be her best option, but unfortunately her skills in that regard were limited. That didn't mean she couldn't at least try.

Calling on the Force she focused the energy field to her hands, concentrating on the healing energies the ethereal tendrils seemed to exude of their own accord. It was rudimentary, and certainly far from perfect, but it would have to serve. She brought her hands down to hover centimeters above his wound, this time directing a part of the Force into his body to knit tissue together. It required a deal more concentration than she was able to provide in some instances, but she made it work her own way. Minutes of this passed before she was content enough to loose her hold on the Force and simply wait for him to regain consciousness, cigarette still stubbornly dangling from her lips, smoke drifting into the air.

"C'mon..."

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

"Really, Jarven. As your doctor, I must recommend you stop getting into these scraps"
"This one was well deserved, Zac. With the amount of slander he was spewing at the others and I, he was destroying the group's morale. He HAD to be put in his place." Zac takes off Jarven's helmet.
"Why is my helmet on? And why did you take it off?---WUH!" Zac waved his hand over the bruises on his chest and walked over to his med kit. His side started to feel weird.
"I'm not saying he didn't deserve it, Jarven. However, you did beat him up quite thoroughly. In our eyes, you went overboard. How long is it going to take to get him back into being a cohesive group member after the humiliation and resentment you've stirred up?" Zac came back with a bacta spray can and a large wad of gauze.
"What's that for, Zac? I feel better already."
"Jarven, I know you don't want to be here, but I need to start treating you." He sprayed the bacta on the worst bruises. After that, he started winding the gauze around his chest. "There. As good as you're gonna' get." Jarven tried to shift in his spot while the sensation continued to increase and actually cause a little pain. Zac pulled out a cigarette and a match. He put the cigarette up to his lips and started to light a match.
"Zac, you're our doctor. When did you start smoking?"
Zac stared back, put the lit match to his cigarette, and then his whole head lit on fire.

*Gasp!* Jarven jolted upright in his seat, both hands slamming down on the table for stability. He quickly looked around, immediately finding an alarmed, attractive, human female in the seat across from him. He stared at her in surprise and then realized that his head felt exposed. Accidentally slapping his cheeks to confirm his suspicions, he looked and quickly grabbed for his helmet, shoving it onto his head and latching it. His respirator was out of sorts, but it quickly re-calibrated and he soon calmed down.
He tried to get a bead on this woman, but couldn't. She didn't register as a threat in his mind, but her presence still unnerved him. He couldn't understand what she would want with him here. It's unlikely that she just happened to decide to sit across from an unconscious Gank.
"Umm," he began. "...Who are you?" Is that how I'm supposed to greet her? Was I supposed to say something like, "What are you doing here? What do you want? How are you doin', sweet thing?" What the frell! Where did that come from? NO! You're NOT going to have thoughts like that! If you said that, she'd probably shoot you in your ugly, animal face and walk away! Hey, you shut up! I have feelings, too, you know?! There's nothing wrong with admiration! No, YOU shut up! STOP IT! I AM NOT DOING THIS!...That would just be plain crazy. You're a Gank killer who will protect his allies and friends. She can find many people who are much better than you. Someone who isn't slowly developing a split personality due to loneliness...

OOC: I do no have a split personality disorder, in case you thought I was projecting some personal mental disability into this character. I'm just fleshing out my character as I go, based on the back story I thought out. Also, a question. I'm trying to figure out how my character perceives you: Is your character still 19, like your bio says, or is she older?

 

[Keira Priest]

OOC: I'd say Keira's about 20 or so by now. (Outdated bio is outdated and probably in need of updating.)

Well, he was conscious now, that was always a good sign. And he hadn't tried to kill her right away, another bonus. All told this encounter was already starting off on a better note than most others in her life had, doubly so if you were only counting those that had occurred within the past few weeks. Considering the venue the two currently sat in Keira had at least expected a blaster drawn and leveled at her head before any kind of civilized conversation was attempted. But it seemed like the stranger was more afraid of her than she was of him, or at least, that's how her senses, both physical and ethereal, perceived him. Interesting. Usually one so capable on the battlefield would have little to fear when it came to social situations. Then again, they had met in a rather impromptu way.

The questions began just as soon as he pulled his helmet back on over her head. There were a number of possible answers to that inquiry, none of them complete lies in and of themselves. Perhaps the truth was the wisest choice, this time around. "Keira. Keira Ticon." For a moment she studied him, through the Force more than anything. "You got a name, too? I'd suggest taking it easy, after that little scuffle with your friends back there. Not bad, by the way. Bounty hunter or soldier?" The conversation might have been moving a bit quickly for anyone else, but she was intensely curious about this man, to say the least.

"And you don't have to worry about me trying to hurt you. I'm unarmed, honest." A smile quirked her lips with the cigarette still held almost delicately between them. "Well, almost. But showing you that'll have to wait 'till later." Most would have taken what she had to say in a rather inappropriate way, though she didn't intend for it to come across as such. She was referring to the lightsaber currently concealed in one of the inside pockets of her jacket, kept hidden in case someone decided to try their luck against a supposed Jedi. Had they attempted something similar she would have made short work of them, an example to those who would try to cross her later. She wouldn't have killed them. Probably.

Her arms rested on the table, the fingers of her right hand absently drumming on the surface as if in boredom, though she was far from done with their conversation. Now that she'd finally managed to find an excuse to talk to him, there wouldn't be any easy way to shake her presence. Reaching up with her left arm, the cybernetic one, she took her cigarette between the index and middle finger of that hand, exhaling a cloud of smoke as she awaited his reply.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

OOC: Wow. I love this site and the amazingly creative people on it. Your first paragraph was incredibly well-orchestrated.

"Kiera. Kiera Ticon. You got a name, too?" said the woman. Last time I checked.
"Jarven," said he. "Jarven Zexxel". Good job, Jarv. Including the dumb sound of "umm", you've spoken 7 words. Don't rush me, okay? I'm new at this.
"---suggest taking it easy---" Jarven, realizing that, the last he knew, he was bleeding out. He quickly looked down at his astonishingly healed, and yet exposed, side of his chest. Oooooh, kark. Now she knows that I'm furry...Jarven quickly tried to reattach the armor plates and cover his dark brown fur. "Bounty Hunter or Soldier?"
"...A little of both. Mercenary."
"---I'm unarmed." ...Really?...Highly unlikely. Anyone in a place like this HAS to be packing either a weapon or a...guard. Jarven quickly observed the area, but found no such sign of a bodyguard. "Well, almost." Packing a weapon? Check. "But, showing you that will have to wait until later..." ...Umm...Is there supposed to be some kind of connotation implied there? No, no. She's clearly talking about her combat prowess. OH, of course.
Her fingers danced along the table. Not literally, of course, but the repetitive, dull thumping played a primal beat. The release of smoke reminded him of the fervor of battles bygone. However, it was the arm that REALLY got to him. Such beauty and intelligence packed into her arm that melded seamlessly with the rest of her. We have something in common: Cybernetics! Yeah. You, her, and half the galaxy...Point taken. Jarven relaxed. Ever since the raid, no one had cared or even thought twice about Jarven. And yet, here was with this woman, this mysterious woman, who seemed primed for curiosity.
He told her everything that she would deign to listen to (OOC: Your character seemed very curious about my character, but I phrased the sentence like this in case you weren't curious enough for THIS). About the large pack of Gank killers he had been running with closely and, more importantly, the events that had led up to this point. Retelling this was still painful for Jarven, so he grew quiet and reserved once more as he ended his story.

 

[Keira Priest]

Now she had at the very least three more or less useful pieces of information that could be employed to find out more about this character should they end up not crossing paths after this quite eventful night. [member="Jarven Zexxel"], a Gank mercenary who was incredibly skilled in all aspects of a fight. His level-headedness regarding the fact that he'd more or less woken up and been pushed into another confrontation of a marginally less offensive sort was something largely appreciated. The last thing she wanted, or needed for that matter, was to draw more attention to the both of them. It seemed that she did enough of that by existing, most days. Force sensitives weren't necessarily taken kindly to in these types of environments, doubly so if said individual was perceived to be anything close to a Jedi. Being one who'd severed all ties to the sect of peacekeepers years ago, she didn't need that kind of press.

The tale he wove of the ruthless decimation of his clan by the Hutts was one she listened patiently to, silently understanding his want for revenge. That would be something she and the Ravens both could eventually lead him to, should their talk ever stray in that direction. Well, provided the syndicate wasn't currently allied with that particular Hutt family. Alliances were broken just as easily as they were made in the criminal underworld, so she figured it wouldn't be too much to ask for, pulling a few strings here and there. It was something the Red Ravens were incredibly talented at, and this would be no different than the numerous similar scenarios that she'd seen played out since her own joining of the organization.

"I think I might have an idea of who can help you get a bit of...retribution on those responsible for the death of your family. It won't be an easy path, but then again, nothing ever is." Her shoulders shrugged in a semblance of carelessness, a faint smile touching on her lips. It was an expression of something akin to secretiveness, though she would tell him everything he wished to know about the group of criminals she called home, should he pursue the hint she'd given. The ball had been set into motion, the only question being if he would pick it up or simply let it fall to the floor with disinterest. She had a feeling she'd picked her mark well enough to avoid that happening, but one could never be too sure.

The cigarette found its way to rest at the corner of her mouth once more, and she reached inside her jacket to pull out her lightsaber out and set it on its side on the table, the metal charm connected to the hilt of the weapon by almost delicate silver links clinking gently against the wooden surface of the table. The orange blade would remain unignited unless she was given cause to use the saber, something she didn't intend to do. Just the simple emergence of the weapon was enough to draw a few curious glances their way, though most averted their gaze relatively quickly nonetheless. "This is one variable I think you might want to be aware of before we continue talking. I'm not a Jedi, don't worry." Another almost smile. "Believe me, I'm far from it. This is something that tends to put a few people off, so I figured I might as well put it out there before you figured it out on your own."

It wasn't that she necessarily expected him to up and leave after the little reveal, but stranger things had definitely happened.

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

"---retribution...." Retribution. Revenge. Tired, let it go, eye for an eye, can't trust any---HatredAngerSelfloathingDepressionLetItGoJarvenIWILLFINDYOU!.....Lonely.....

Pure, unadultered grief and sadness flooded his mind. He was silent for a little while, his fists clenching. Then he let go of it all. At this point, it wasn't the revenge that drove Jarven. Jarven's heart had been torn out, leaving a mere red outline. First things first, Jarven needed friends. From a tactical stand point, he knew that allies would be needed to take out an entire Kajidic, or at least the responsible party of the Kajidic. From his personal viewpoint, he simply needed people who could fill the void. He had been calling out for so long to his fellow Ganks over his comm that his mind had tried to fix the situation by stimulating conversations with himself. He couldn't live like this. He needed someone to give him a reason to live. He needed someone who could remind him that his pain and his fighting served a higher purpose and was not as useless as beating up drunks, getting stabbed by Nikto, and bleeding out in a booth.

"At this point Kiera, I don't need retribution. If I ever see those farking mooks again, I'll tear them limb from limb...But right now...." The sadness washed over him again, making it hard for him to speak. "I need...people...a team...friends...." Jarven was drained from the emotions and craziness of the day, but he forced himself to stay awake and coherent for everything.

Soon after that, she produced a metal tube. Oh, she's a mechanic...Really?...REALLY? A MECHANIC!? Calm down, I'm dicking with you...You sly guy. Not right now, guys. I'm trying to think. So, she has a lightsaber. Likely includes a connection to the Force.

"---I'm far from it. ---" Ah, a Sith? Dark Jedi? Neutral? Ah, what does it matter...Jarven had figured that the miracle healing was done at her hand...or Force, so he didn't care what her personal position was on the Force. He cared about her, as a person, about what she did, and what she would do. Finally working up the stability, Jarven spoke to her.

"You prove to be more and more wonderful and fascinating by the minute, Kiera. Whatever you're into, I want to be a part of it...I think that's what you're talking about...I don't quite know right now, but at this point, I have nothing. Having something is much better than having nothing."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Well, that was marginally easier than Keira had expected it to be. Typically, after producing her one and only primary choice of weaponry, most would fall silent and study it for a long moment as if weighing their options and the relative intelligence of continuing to interact with her. This in and of itself was something of an exception, and it spoke to the determination and perhaps even stubbornness of the armored Gank. A willingness to act, whether for one's own personal gains or the well-being of an entire people was the first step towards achieving any goal. That same drive was all but necessary for survival in the criminal underworld that she and those she considered her close friends called home, not to mention the family members that were tied to it all as well. If Jarven truly wished it, she would introduce him in time.

If he wanted a team, not to mention friends, and loyal ones at that, she knew already that he would fit in. If there was one beneficial thing about trying to get accepted into a criminal syndicate, it was that not many were all that particular on who exactly they chose to employ. If you're especially talented in this or that area, there's slim chance they won't take you in, regardless of whether your presence is central to the organization at the time. And it wasn't as if the Ravens were that selective anyhow. If one had the ambition, they were more than willing to try their hand at things. It was when someone decided they'd had enough and tried to back out that things got tricky. The answer to that was something they inevitably learned the hard way: there is no getting out.

However, she couldn't foresee him having the same problem. From her first impression she'd determined that this was a man who wouldn't hesitate to fight for those he considered friend, and once those bonds were made had a marginally difficult time severing them with any amount of unfeeling. Individuals like this were rare, from what she'd observed, at least until she'd met the Ravens. There was little doubt in her mind that he would have any issue weaving himself into the fabric of the group. That wasn't a vibe she'd gotten from him in the beginning, and she wasn't sensing anything similar to it now.

There was the chance that he wouldn't be interested in breaking bread with anyone such as them, but if he had any qualms about even mingling with the criminal sort then he wouldn't have chosen this bar to enter, or any bar, for that matter. And besides, he'd shown enough of what she believed to be his true self that she didn't see any harm in telling a bit about herself in return, particularly those she worked with and called friend. Nothing else had appeared to faze him up until this point, so laying all the figurative cards on the table was the next step, and one that would ultimately decide how their interactions proceeded from then on.

Now was as good a time as any. "There's a group of people you'd be interested in meeting. If you want a team and friends, then they're the ones you've been looking for. I can't guarantee that you'll get along with everyone, but I don't think you'll have any issue. They, or rather, we, operate from the planet of Antecedent, in the Dragon Palace Casino." There was a brief pause, and she smiled slowly. "Jarven, I'd like to introduce you to the Red Ravens."

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

There it was. Jarven had been waiting for an opportunity like this for a LONG time. He was hooked and he knew it...and so did they (I know that's confusing, but I'll explain).

Yes! I knew coming here was going to pay off! Jarven, STOP! Think about what you're about to do! You're practically tossing yourself at this woman's proposal without a single thought! So what if I am!? You bantha brain! Look at this cantina you've entered! Does it look like the modicum of civilization??! NO! It's a pit of villainy and scum! This woman probably works for shady people! I AM a shady person! The underworld is where Ganks belong! I've killed countless times and our pack always knew that the things we did were almost never in the realm of legality! But this is different, Jarven. You don't know who these Red Ravens are, what they do, or if they'll even value you. WELL, I'D RATHER RISK THAT THAN HAVE TO LISTEN TO YOU FOREVER!!!...What---What are you saying, Jarven? Are you saying we're not good enough for you?...Yes. I'm saying that. I want real people in my lives, not whatever you're all supposed to be...Ok, Jarven. Goodbye. Bye, Jarven. Bye--Bye...Bye, Jarv...

And just like that, the voices faded out and didn't come back. This caused Jarven a moment of pause, for he wasn't used to the silence. Before he could begin to regret it, he pushed the matter out of his mind and focused on the real person in front of him. She spoke to him and he focused on her. Then, she smiled...Jarven would remember that smile for a long time.

"Very well. When do we start?" Red Ravens? What kind of stupid name is that? They might as well have called themselves "Animals that do crime", am I right?...Guys?....Guys?

There was nothing but silence in his mind.​

OOC: [member="Keira Ticon"] , if I find out you're sending me on a one-way ticket onto a slave transport...

 

[Keira Priest]

OOC: I'm not that bad, [member="Jarven Zexxel"].

"We can start right now, if you're willing. It's not that long of a trip to get back. A few hours at the most." Once they arrived at Antecedent, that was when things would begin to pick up. They weren't the type of people to take things slowly once someone was interested in pursuing what could be called a career with them. Keira knew already that a meeting would have to be arranged with the [member="Cryax Bane"], the President of the Ravens, to finalize things. Her job included the induction of the new members, certainly, but there was a point where what she was able to do ended and things would have to be handed off. But she intended to be present this time, if just because this new arrival intrigued her a bit more than usual. There was something about him, an attitude he had that she couldn't quite place.

Without wasting any more time she stood from the booth, her lightsaber disappearing just as quickly as she'd revealed it, once more concealed within her jacket, at least until they were well on their way back to familiar territory. "I have a ship in the port, since you don't seem the type to waste any time. You have my word that nothing will happen." It wasn't often that anyone in her business told the truth, but this time she was, something she didn't expect him to believe right away. Not many did, when it came to the type of people she surrounded herself with, and her attitude had been much of the same in her first weeks with the organization. Of course, she'd had family within, while he only had her to trust. That added a new dynamic.

Whether he would follow or not she simply smiled again before making her way out of the cantina, arriving at the spaceport in the next few minutes, boarding the transport that would take them back to Antecedent, with no stops across the way unless he requested any. Should he have decided to follow, she would turn to him with a slightly more at ease smile. "Go ahead and make yourself at home. We have some time before we get there."

*3 hours later*​

​

Once she felt the ship touch down she stood almost immediately, this time taking her weapon and hooking it at her hip this time, in full view. "There's someone here you should meet, and then I can show you around the Casino, if you'd like." With that she led him off of the ship and into the building that was nearest the port, the always bustling Dragon Palace Casino. It was most likely an impressive building to those that hadn't called it home for the better part of a few years, and she allowed him time to look around while still navigating through the crowds that were always present on the main floor. Their business, however, was in the offices that were just above.

Minutes later they arrived at one of the many doors that lined this particular hallway, not bothering to knock and instead just waving her hand over the sensor that would cause the doors to slide open of their own accord. "How's it going, Cryax?"

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

Yeah, I'm willling! I'm finally getting out of here! The thought of something new in his life exhilarated Jarven. On this planet, there was death and despair. Out there in the galaxy was a chance at adventure, action, and success. "I'm not worried about getting back here. If anything, I'm glad to get out of here and somewhere else as soon as possible." They got up and walked towards the spaceport. On the way, he spotted yet another Desilijic tag. Another time...

She turned to him. There's that smile, again. He found his way on board the transport. "---Make yourself at home---" What is home, anymore? I guess that's what I'm going to find out. He tried to pick the most comfortable seat, settled down, and tried to catch some much needed rest. It didn't take much for him to fall asleep.

Faint snatches of memory. Whispers and broken words. Ghosts that wanted to come out to haunt Jarven, but Jarven wasn't worried anymore. He had a purpose and it was bright enough to dispel the nightmares. Just as his dreaming settled down, a large, spiked, dark figure zoomed into full cinematic view and tackled Jarven!

The ship landed at it's destination and Jarven bolted into a standing position, the figure still fresh in his mind. He saw Keira standing next to him, her head turned back at him with a quizzical look. She shrugged and headed off with Jarven soon following behind. The Casino was TRULY impressive. I could get used to this... Jarven tried to take in as much as possible, but didn't dare to stop Keira from her purpose. There would be plenty of time to become familiar with the place later. They got to an office and Keira swiped her badge to unlock the door. Not wanting to break any kind of protocol, Jarven clasped his hands together behind his back and spread his legs to shoulder width, assuming a stand easy position. He waited as Keira said, "How's it going, Cryax?"



[member="Keira Ticon"]
[member="Cryax Bane"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

When the two entered the President's office a large room decorated in neon lights and dragon motifs much like the rest of the casino, four Mirari droids sprang to attention, their metal bodies clanking towards the pair. Upon seeing that one of the visitors was Keira Ticon, the droids stopped, then turned towards their master seated at a shiny black desk that nearly spanned the entire room. With a wave of his hand, the robot soldiers backed off and took their places along the wall. The Red Ravens President was a skinny Chiss, dressed in an expensive pin-striped suit with a Datalogger strapped to his wrist. The personal computer was an accouterments the blue-skinned man was never seen without.

"Keira," greeted Cryax. His voice was clipped, but warmth glimmered in his red alien eyes. He tried to keep their relationship cordially professional, but it was obvious there was a fondness there for the Red Ravens Secretary. They had saved each others lives on more than one occasion so their loyalties ran deep.

"What do we have here?" He gestured to the armored man standing adjacent to her.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"] [member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Pretending to look around his office for a moment, though she'd been there time and time before, Keira looked again to Cryax with a half-smile. "What, no surprises this time? And here I thought there was always someone trying to kill you." The statement wasn't entirely wrong, when one considered it from a galactic perspective, but it was more so a bit of a joke between them, as they'd both saved the others life on numerous occasions, beginning the day of the interview that started her new life within the Ravens. That cycle had only continued since then, a trend that had only served to build up their bond both as associates and friends.

Her amber tinted gaze strayed to her newest acquaintance, and she flashed a reassuring smile before turning to the Chiss behind the desk in order to answer his question. "Our newest recruit, I think. It turns out that, once in awhile, there are more interesting things on Nar Shaddaa than just a few drunks and addicts." And there was an abundance of those as well. "This is [member="Jarven Zexxel"], someone I think you'd like to talk to. A mercenary, or so he tells me, and one of the best fighters I've seen in a long time. I think the Ravens could benefit from having him, and it sounds like he could benefit from us, as well."

Without much more in the way of an introduction she stepped through the doorway, motioning for the man in question to follow. Two chairs positioned themselves in front of Cryax's desk seemingly of their own accord, by her own hand through aid of the Force, and she sat. Most were used to her antics when it came to the Force, and there was no better way to acclimate Jarven into things than put everything on the table right away. "And from what I've heard, it sounds like Linx is settling in fine. We've been getting plenty of new members lately." From what she'd noticed, it seemed the Ravens were attracting more attention lately than they had been before, and from the right parties, for a change.

"You don't have to worry about security, or any weapons, or anything, he's fine. I wouldn't've let him in here if he wasn't." Security had been a concern in the Casino since the change in presidency, something she couldn't entirely blame Cryax for, seeing as how much retaliation they'd been facing lately, not to mention how aggressive their acts had been getting in return.

[member="Cryax Bane"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

Kill Cryax? Well, sure he's likely a crime boss, but if everything goes well, he's going to be MY boss. Killing my boss will NOT do AT ALL...

[member="Keira Ticon"] prompted him to follow, so he followed. When Keira introduced him, he couldn't help but feel a presence of pride slightly swell within himself. Then, something shifted suddenly in the corner of the room. Reacting first and thinking second, Jarven put his hand on his gun, stepped forward, and positioned himself between the perceived attacker and Keira. He very soon realized that it was simply a chair. That...must be Keira's work... Jarven was glad that he was wearing a helmet, because he felt his face heat up from embarrassment, his cheeks likely blushing.

He quickly took his hand off his gun, got out of Keira's way, and sat down next to her. "---You don't have to worry---" Ha! After what I just did, there's going to be SOME worry...Stupid me...Jarven didn't feel like saying anything unless spoken to first.