City of Sinners

[Voices of The Deep]

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Grand Re-Opening of Crimson Tide on Nar Shaddaa​

The first night. What soft moon, like a lover's kiss. It felt not unlike true peace, and yet memories of laying waste to the wretched squander of my past and origin taint the experience. I am unfettered. I know not how I can ignore my pain. The soaking blackness of the devolution of the soul would come for us all, and though I ran, I am still the filth which they gorged from their rotten spirits. Somehow, as my billowing strength carried me through this trek of cataclysmic bedlam, I was weaker than before. Too fearful to confide, too agonized and comfortable with misery to waive my shame and look past my endless supply of doubt.

None of this would read upon my visage. I would forever be a chiseled, hand crafted instrument of wrath, hell bent on complete obliteration of those who dared to wrong me. But I am forced to admit, this petrifying fear, this grotesque anxiety, it fuels me in ways I never knew before touching this particular world. No matter how deadened my senses always were, even my intuition could be touched upon by whatever sacred core pumped the exquisitely immaculate and poisonous city of Nar Shaddaa with its deviant life source. I am intrigued, but the seed is so diminutive I cannot provide faith that it will survive.

She dreamt of weanling lambs eternally laid to rest, having to face the brightness of the sun with looming thoughts of dark impulse and androgynous, elusive desire. Upon this world there was a vibrancy attempting to access her aural systems, something vivacious and neutral, terrifyingly not unlike her own quietly seething impetus.

Her fear...it came from a place she had tried to bury recently. The loss of her first born sons haunted her so vividly that the sheer thought of them made the woman feel as if he heart stopped and she temporarily fell to death herself...somewhere within her she knew she feared this place. The place she was put in chains and held captive...the place her sons were pried from her very arms and sold like mere cattle. Where they were slaughtered...

She grimaced from behind that golden, expressionless mask. Her bright intense gaze focused on the establishment before her as the crowd stirred all around her. The woman was massive, standing over most of the crowd as her fist clenched tightly again and again. A soft voice suddenly muttering into her ear from behind.

"Gal, you don't have to do...'this'. We can just go home, Esmeralda needs her mother still and if she loses you here then what? Even if he is here and you do kill him, what will it solve?" The man would advise, making Gallar snap out of her trance like state before closing her eyes and taking a breath.

"Nothing..." She would reply bluntly, lifting a hand and adjusting the coat that hung around her shoulders.

"Then why are you here Gally? Will the slaughter of everyone involved really make you feel better?" He asked through a low growl.

The question made Gallar chuckle darkly, shaking her head as she took a deep breath.

"No...but its certainly a start~" She would muse before looking over her shoulder towards the man who accompanied her. "Besides...its not about feeling better...its about the principle. An eye for an eye. They murdered my children, enslaved my people and tried to sell my unborn daughter. There is only one way this ends~" She would explain, the aura she radiated practically impalpable as she gave a soft shrug.

The man stayed quiet for a long moment before nodding. "I won't stop you, but remember Gallar. When on the path of vengence you should dig two graves. One for your opponent...and one for yourself." The man would tell her. The statement forced a hearty laugh to erupt from Gallars lips as she sighed and turned to face the shorter man. Looking down at him and reaching out to run her fingers through his hair and ruffle it up as if he were a smaller sibling.

"Oh Dimitri...you should already know." She began before backing away from him to make her way towards the grand re-opening of the building behind her. "Two just ain't gonna be enough~"

 

[Soloman Priest]

The club moved in time with the music, entire crowds jumping to the beat in the distance; but it did little to quench the thirst Soloman had. A bottle and an untouched glass sat in his privacy booth, most of the outside noise cancelled out as he drank directly from the whiskey’s source. He slouched down in his chair as he tried to get his mind off the day’s events, his memory stained with the blood of sixteen men too young to know what they had done, too young to know who they angered.

It didn’t sit well with Soloman, killing kids, but there was money in apathy, and the bottle gave him such nerve.

As alcohol slowly began to buzz his vision, he glanced upwards to see the absolutely massive form of [member="Gallar Ahamkara"] walk into the room; knowing instantly she was trouble. While many would notice off The Force and the way her dark side prowess seemed almost palpable, he noticed off the tense way her hand clenched, her shoulders ran behind her, and the heavy gaunt that she carried herself with.

Generally, someone that size, that confident walking into a place like this, meant one of two things; they were strapped with a bomb, or they were a forcie. Since she didn’t see to be packing, he assumed the latter. Not to say she couldn’t hide a bomb somewhere, he just didn’t care to think about it for the moment.

Slowly, Soloman grabbed a cigarette and put it to his lips, holding his gaze on Gallar as she moved as he lit it, letting his booth fill with a slight smoke. A hand moved to touch the handle of his handgun, still in the holster; all for the security that it offered. It was a closer friend than any he’d met before, so its presence gave him confidence despite what was to come.

“Don’t do anything stupid, girl…”, he said between inhales of the smoke.