Deltarune | CIS Dominion of Delta IV (R, 39)

[Ascendant Muse]

D E L T A​

I V​

R A V E​

Self-Determination.

When the Southern Systems saw fit to unite as the Confederacy, it was because their ability to determine their future was at stake. In those days, it seemed inevitable that they would be subject to either one of two extremes: either be dominated by an Imperial warmachine or sucked into a losing battle against the same regimes. Trillions of souls lacked the ability to choose. Numerous worlds lacked the means to determine their own fate. However, by banding together under a single banner, the Confederacy ensured that they would have that option. They would be truly free. And as the budding nation grew over its fledgling years, this option was the key component to the majority of its expansion. Practically each world they encountered leapt at the chance to determine their own fate, safely. Yet there were some worlds that were...different...in their mindset. Some which did not value the choice of freedom, nor care which Galactic power they pledged allegiance to.

Worlds such as Delta IV.

At a glance, the distant moon was but the quiet offspring of a gas giant. It made no major contributions to Galactic history. It was not the site of titanic battles or anything in-between. In fact, for the majority of the world’s history, its only “claim” to fame had been the minute spaceport that enabled offworld travelers to resupply. In a sense, Delta IV had served the purpose of being a “last stop” refueling center for ships heading northward into the Core. However, when the Great Galactic War reared its head, refugees of a particular variety began to infest the moon. These scoundrels pumped new life into the moon’s economy through elevating the spaceport into a miniature Nar Shaddaa. These sods were arms dealers, spice peddlers, and mercenaries of varying caliber. And, as the war raged on, business boomed. Those attempting to escape the fall of the Galactic Alliance would stumble upon Delta IV in their travels - and would spend no small amount in arming themselves for personal defense. Those who had lost loved ones would find solace in the deathsticks that were recommended rather enthusiastically.

By the time of the present, Delta IV had evolved into a bonafide Shadowport. And thus, those few who were “in charge” did not place much stock in the values championed by their southern neighbor. In their eyes, war meant that their way of life was maintained. They could turn a profit no matter what the Galactic borders looked like. Thus, first contact with the Delta IV “leadership” proved, initially, fruitless. However, a silver lining manifested in the form of [member="Alessandra Creed"], Minister of Commerce for the Confederacy. Singlehandedly, she negotiated a rather simple accord with the scoundrels of Delta IV that worked out for their bottom line. In short, they would be cut into the spice business found on Ryloth, in return for their membership and adherence to Confederate Law. By and large, this was easily the most...unconventional entry into the fold. And, in true scoundrel fashion, the aftermath was unorthodox to say the least. The signing “ceremony” (if it could be called that) took place a mere stone’s throw away from the Port.

In times long since past, a modest cantina had been the local watering hole - but by the hands of the newfound occupants, a breath of fresh air had been breathed into the establishment. What was once a quiet, triple-storied building had become the center of lights and sound upon the moon. Upon drawing near, the first sight any passerby would notice were bright, neon letters above the main entrance. They spelled the name LUX and cast a radiant glow to the grimy streets below. Deep rumbled echoed through the very pavement, as mounted speakers thundered through a tracelike set on either side of the door - mimicking the music erupting inside. These days, the building itself was more glass than actual stone, and therefore every passerby could get a clear view of the “festivities” occurring within. Should the average joe manage to make it past the rather imposing duo of thugs guarding the door, their eardrums would immediately be assaulted by the noise. The speakers just outside were not even a warning of the volume of the set - for the music was being blared over a towering pair of speakers in the rear of the first floor.

Standing between them, underneath a dazzling display of multi-colored lights, was a Zeltron woman before a console. One hand was raised to the heavens, whilst the other was clutching a headset to her ear. She was the master of the music, performing before a mob of adoring fans who cheered aloud, jumped, and swayed to the beat. And, what’s more, there were glo-rods as far as the eye could see. Running perpendicular to the stage and dance floor were the center of vices themselves. The most eye-catching of the features was a pristine bar of white which served numerous stools. A sharply dressed Rodian was putting on his own show there, twirling liquors and serving them shaken over ice. Yet this was not the only appetite that he served, for orbiting the bar were numerous smaller tables of the same white hue. Attending to them were scantily clad Twi’lek, bearing trays adorned with fresh beverages and even fresher substances. From deathsticks to pre-cut glitterstim, those drinking and indulging in their seats had plenty to choose from.

For the majority of the citizenry, and the Confederates who opted to accompany those signing, the first floor was where the buck tended to stop. However, the dealings took place on the second floor. On the far side of the dance floor was a flight of stairs - attended by yet another burly “gentleman.” However, upon ascending them, one would find that the noise was infinitely less invasive. Noise-cancelling padding was everywhere on the walls, yet the vibrant aesthetic was all the same. The room was admittedly dim, but the lighting was neon and rotated through a variety of hues. This was the so-called VIP Section, which was home to the head figures in charge. It was said that the Vicelord had gone ahead of the party to meet, personally, with the loudest of the local voices - but upon entering the space, one would only find the other signatories and the Twi’leks attending them. All of whom would swear up and down that they had not seen either their leader or the Vicelord himself.

Odd.

For most of the Confederate delegation, the night was about getting in, humoring the locals, and getting out without too many intoxicants in their system. However, some might have determined that this was a chance to truly cut loose in a place where no one knew their names. The night was young. The business was all but done. And there were vibes and drinks aplenty.

Spoiler: Objectives

E A G L E​

P U R P L E​

As the music swells, the absence of the Vicelord is becoming...felt. Those who are Sensitive to the Force cannot feel him. Those who were assigned to protect him are nowhere to be found. Though the moon is small and Lux is smaller, to have one’s leader vanish is the worst case scenario. Attempt to dig into the Vicelord’s whereabouts as covertly as possible - for it would not do to sour the proceedings (however unorthodox) with any accusations.​

B E E​

Y O U R S E LF​

Perhaps you left your comm aboard the ship and have no idea. Or, perhaps you know that too many hands will draw attention. Whichever the case, you have to act natural despite the growing situation. There’s plenty to drink - even more to...uhh...sniff...and the music isn’t too loud to handle. Do your best to act natural - but be on your guard for if the spice hits the fan!​

Spoiler: Tag

[member="A'Runda"]
[member="Aiden"]
[member="Akabane"]
[member="Alexandrite"]
[member="Alora Fae"]
[member="Alwine Lechner"]
[member="Amarant deWinter"]
[member="Amaya Cardei"]
[member="Amethyst Atreides"]
[member="Amethyst Sovereign"]
[member="Andi Americus"]
[member="Anya Malvern"]
[member="Arabella Darkhold"]
[member="Archim Calixis"]
[member="Ari Zanareth"]
[member="Arlox"]
[member="Aston Jacobs"]
[member="Aya Clarke"]
[member="Azmodan"]
[member="Betty Americus"]
[member="Braan Kell"]
[member="Bandit Six"]
[member="Caesar Kenway"]
[member="Caid Centurion"]
[member="Callisa Asran"]
[member="Cardinal Vi'dreya"]
[member="Carith Thelcar"]
[member="Chikako Liona"]
[member="Cim Salro"]
[member="Corvus Dravere"]
[member="Daisy Americus"]
[member="Damsy Callat"]
[member="Danger Arceneau"]
[member="Daniel Americus"]
[member="Dalton Kenway"]
[member="Darth Tacitus"]
[member="Darth Timorem"]
[member="Darth Zurvan"]
[member="Dauntless.Luna"]
[member="Daxton Bane"]
[member="Derek Dib"]
[member="Dhakarta"]
[member="Dianah Vi'Dreya"]
[member="Drauchir"]
[member="Ella Nova"]
[member="Erin Tenel"]
[member="Fawn Alzi"]
[member="Gerwald Lechner"]
[member="Gray Venasir"]
[member="Isarn Apis"]
[member="Ithiel Verd"]
[member="Jade Isara"]
[member="Jamie Pyne"]
[member="Jennifer Blanchard"]
[member="Jorco Czeku"]
[member="Jorge"]
[member="Josh DragonsFlame"]
[member="Jyoti Nooran"]
[member="Kalee Bladesworn"]
[member="Kaptan Americus"]
[member="Karlie Lynn Destat"]
[member="Kasca Fen"]
[member="Katria Vekarr"]
[member="Katrine Van-Derveld"]
[member="Kayla Wylen"]
[member="Kilia"]
[member="Kingsley"]
[member="Kip Ridel"]
[member="Kurayami Bloodborn"]
[member="Kurenai Yumi"]
[member="Kwelin Orlov"]
[member="Kyber"]
[member="Kyrinov"]
[member="Kyle Naktis"]
[member="Lady Psyona"]
[member="Lefwen Claskier"]
[member="Lirka Ka"]
[member="Luna Terrik"]
[member="Luna Vega"]
[member="Lyla Quinn"]
[member="Mallory Bash"]
[member="Maple Harte"]
[member="Marek Starchaser"]
[member="Mauer"]
[member="Minerva Vessia"]

[member="Muad Dib"]
[member="Natasha Darkstar"]
[member="Nine Lives"]
[member="Orion Trex"]
[member="Osintrium"]
[member="Petra Cavataio"]
[member="Qaarssk Roark"]
[member="Razelle Breuner"]
[member="Roy Americus"]
[member="Rylan Kordel"]
[member="Samantha Jade"]
[member="Scherezade deWinter"]
[member="Shalita Vi'dreya"]
[member="Sola Marr"]
[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]
[member="Srina Talon"]
[member="Taramaz Laurs"]
[member="Tex Americus"]
[member="Teyla Ee'everwest"]
[member="Thalira Kiing"]
[member="Tmoxin Temi"]
[member="Traveler"]
[member="Treiades Rhoujen"]
[member="Umai"]
[member="Varick Lechner"]
[member="Veronika Fleischer"]
[member="VildarnTentoria"]
[member="Vyra Silara"]
[member="Xenro"]
[member="Zephyr Carrick"]
[member="Zhai'ellev"]

 

[Malok]

Location: ???

Let the Past Die.

If the Sith had a credit for each and every time his favored Apprentice spoke those words, Darth Metus would have been able to put his army of children through college. Twice. However, while the alabaster woman made it a point to utter that mantra on the regular, there was a very good reason behind her persistence. As a man who had lived, and died, the Vicelord of the Confederacy had many shackles upon his soul. Chains to years long since past. Grudges that caused the blood to boil. Yet [member="Srina Talon"] was wise beyond her years. She knew that allowing her Master to indulge in these remnants of what was would only hinder the present. Her silver eyes were always upon the horizon - always upon what came next. And, with her encouragement, so too were his own.

Yet this day sent months of progress screeching to a halt. Darth Metus thought that he would not have been so afflicted by such an old wound. In fact, if he were in the privacy of his own home, this particular memory would not have brought him any grief. Nor any Rage. And yet, as his sulfuric gaze settled upon the Clone, the past came alive. He could remember the cold sensation in the pit of his stomach when the report reached his ears. He could feel his blood boil within his veins as he recalled the words - Liberty Concord. His teeth pressed against one another with a mighty force, contorting his face with a true expression of wrath. Oh, he tried. He tried so hard to be the man that his Apprentice thought he was. Tried to be that Father that his children looked up to. Tried to embody the leadership that the Confederacy needed.

But as he looked upon the man he once called brother - he felt like he was failing. And he was perfectly fine with that. Here, however, the Clone had the home field advantage. He had numbers. He had a club full of booming music just below his feet; with backup less than a block away. What’s more, he had that infernal lizard upon his back. All Darth Metus had was his wits, his rage, and his saber. And as the weapon burned into being, wrath slithered from his mouth as a single word.

Tal’Verda.​

 

[ToKola Bakari]

​

Location: Delta IV~Lux Cantina​

Objective: Get Karked Up​

Tags: ​

​

Most of Marcellus work with The Confederacy had been hands off up until now. The bosses of Delta IV had been bought out by a much stronger organization, a government. Marcellus had worked freelance with a few of the dealers on Delta but he'd never seen a takeover like this. The Thyrsian moved around Cantina Lux with an amused expression on his face. He could see the members of the Confederacy who tried to blend into their world. Most of them stood out like a sore thumb. Regardless of what he thought about the deal the bosses wanted everything to go by smooth. Since Marcellus had worked on both sides of the fence he had been tasked with keeping the night entertaining.

The lights moved and danced around the room and he made his way over to the edge of the Cantina. Marcellus ran a hand through his braided hair, his smirk never fading as he looked over the dance floor. He could feel the pull of his needs when he saw a man hold a spice vial, freely. He licked his lips before laughing audibly. "Later." He said, feeling a hand rest on his shoulder.

When Marcellus turned he saw a Devaronian, young and hosting a toothy grin. "Decker. Boss Ki'woni's cleared your debt for the help on giving him some...clarity." Yes, Marcellus had sold a few choice secrets to the crime bosses. He knew they could use them to leverage a better deal against The Confederacy and there was no way it could be traced back to him. "Get lost Killex, I'm busy." Marcellus laughed, watching a couple dip into their own supply of spice. He always found it fun and amusing, how people could abandon their worries, their entire lives for a single moment of fulfilment.

"A bonus. The boss is feeling generous today. He says to keep things fun and keep our guests entertained." The Devaronian slapped a credit chit into Marcellus' hand. Glancing down at the small device, Marcellus showed a wide grin. "Fun? hell that's my middle name." Marcellus patted the man's chest, leaning forward so he could be well heard over the music. "Get lost, horn-head." Pushing the Devaronian back, Marcellus made his way over to one of the tables in the edge of the cantina. The Confederacy wanted to keep things easy and low profile. They needed to learn that to blend in, you need to stand out. Standing up on the table, Marcellus cupped his hands over his lips as he yelled out.

"Yocola Ov!" In the next minute the room seemed to louden as the crowd yelled the words back to Marcellus. Yocola Ov, words that were spoken often in Hutteese and meant one thing, Drink Off.

As Marcellus stepped down from the table he could see a trio of zeltros women moving to fill the table with small shot glasses of green liquids. Taking a seat at the table, Marcellus immediately downed one of the shots before slamming his hand on the table. "Whoo!!" He yelled out, watching as some brave souls began to join him at the table.

 

[Allya Vi'Dreya]

Wearing

Theme

Weapons: One Mandalorian Vambrace

Objective: Bee yourself




Allya was always aware of where her father was, she was even aware of where he disappeared, and when. She was vastly aware of his presence, as it had such a deep impact on her own. However, he was always disappearing, he could conceal his presence with ease, and frankly, he had a habit of bedding a bunch of local women wherever he went, so it wasn't at all surprising he had. No, instead, she was vastly more focused on what was next to her.

Dressed in a red club dress, that showed off the athletic form of the Mandalorian, she decided to try and have fun. Besides, places like this were full of emotions, and it always made her heart race. Though her heart raced faster today. See, after their mis-adventures, she had managed to drag Jerek Zenduu here with her today. He was dressed well, they had actually gone shopping in the city before coming here. He was still a geek, her geek, and she was happy he was with her. Very happy.

Jerek made her nervous, being so close. So almost counter intuitively, she reached out with her left arm and wrapped wrapped it around his right one to avoid the Mandalorian vambrace on her right arm. Her heart raced faster as she stayed at his side. The bouncers already knew her, by the VIP necklace badge she had been given, and they were soon assaulted by the lights, the sound, and the bodies all dancing. So many emotions. It was difficult to not feed on them. Instead, she simply focused her mind on Jerek, and gave him the brightest smile. As she pulled him towards the dance floor, she didn't take no for an answer. “Let's dance!” She shouted out over the noise. “Or do you want something to drink first, fly boy?”

Brown eyes sparkled in this, adrenaline flowing through her body. Allya looked at him in the eyes, not looking away. “Thanks for coming with me by the way. While I have to show up to these things, it gets....weird most of the time. You give me a really good excuse to not have to go upstairs.” Her voice was loud, to over power the music. After she gave him a grin, a finger comes up, and crooks in a beckoning motion. “Come on!”

[member="Jerek Zenduu"]

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: Delta IV - LUX
Objective: Avoiding permanent ear damage
Wearing: Something very warm


Pounding bass had her ears ringing the moment she stepped over the threshold. There weren't many downsides to having acute hearing, but an evening in a place like this presented her with one such situation. With every breath in she could feel the rumble through her throat and chest, and even using a bit of power to dampen the ringing in her ears she was struggling to hear herself think. She narrowed her eyes a fraction as she glanced to the corners of the room closest to the door and picked one that had fewer people congregated, turning on the balls of her feet and striding toward it.

Picking a table with no denizens currently using it, she slid up along side it and leaned her arms against it. She crossed them in front of her and leaned her head forward until her forehead pressed firmly against the cool surface. She took a slow and deep breath in, the bass line pumping down her throat and resonating through her chest like a second heartbeat. She concentrated on the the sound thundering through her head and focused on shutting down the channels that she'd worked diligently to form. It took a few minutes but the sound of the thudding in her ears slowly dimmed to a normal level, and a sense of relief tickled it's way from the base of her skull down through the rest of her body. It was still insanely loud, but she'd be able to manage for the rest of the evening.

With a contented sigh she lifted her head once more, her mop of hair now a messy halo as it had spilled from behind her ears. She took a moment to enjoy the calm she'd created for herself before glancing around, eyes struggling to make much sense of the cantina as it was at once brightly lit and then plunged into darkness. It was disorienting and thrilling and generally difficult to process.

It was around that time that over the din of the music could be heard a chanted phrase, 'Yocola Ov!' Her nose scrunched a fraction as she turned a confused glance towards the table where the shouts seemed aimed, catching sight of a man standing there, downing a small glass of bright green liquid. Interesting. She pushed herself back off the table and slid gracefully from behind it, walking slowly towards the commotion but not inviting herself to the table. Instead she stood back, her arms crossing under her chest as she shifted her weight onto one foot and kept a respectable distance to watch. She wasn't sure what this was, but it certainly looked promising from an entertainment standpoint.

 

[Lanann Garwyn]

Morning:


While normally she was on Nar Shaddaa, Lana was one that traveled heavily for the different competitions, and the like. Any time the Syndicate or her sponsors could make money, they sent her out. Most of the races were legal things, things that allowed them to rake in legal profits, and present a front of legitimacy.

However, today was different, no this was part of her punishment. The dark haired woman circled her racing ship, it was small, sleek, fast, with no shields what so ever. It could maneuver, it could speed, and boost, it did everything it needed to do. However, she would be racing through an asteroid belt, laced with mines. It was designed to kill you if you made a mistake, few survived, let alone in first. But, she was told to win first. She had to do it. There wasn't a question, it was either do what they asked or die. There wasn't another way. This was a race in honor of the looming CIS deal. It was a big deal.

It was in a large hanger, with the racing ship Vanan Moru sitting in the center. She had build the ship herself, it was fast, maneuverable, did everything she needed, and fit the requirements for all the various tournaments and the like. Checking over each piece of the ship, making sure the reactor was working the way it should, and just double checking everything herself, she was soon satisfied. While they had mechanics for it, people could be bribed, or made to do things. It was her life on the line here. Though, sometimes she questioned why she kept going anyway.

After her preliminary checks, Lana went into the locker room at the side of the hanger. Pushing open the door, and sliding in, she slid off the grimy mechanics jumpsuit, and went into the shower. Eyes closed as the hot water slide down her. It was so hard to remain calm, she understood today more than ever just how expendable she was. This was a race where out of 500 participants, fewer than five survived. Teeth gritted, and she finished cleaning herself, drying herself, and put on her flight suit.

Dressed, she did her hair in a tight braid, and then into a bun, before sliding on her helmet. Lastly, her gloves went on, to help her grip the stick better. Letting out a slow breath, she turned and went out to the hanger. Opening the cockpit, she slid inside, going through the preflight checklist. Reaching out, she switches on the power, the engines, then the computers, and everything else. Finally, turning on her comms. “This is Lana, in the Vanan Moru, open the hanger doors. Let's start this.”

Massive durasteel doors open on the station, and raising up with her repulsorlifts, Lana bursts out of the hanger quickly banking and skimming the top of the station, buzzing all the windows before launching deeper into space. Despite herself, there was this grin on her fast as she flew. It was her passion, her life, the only good thing left in her life. This thrill, this feeling, when she flew she was truly alive again. She didn't need any other drugs when she was.

At the starting area, she waited. It wasn't long after launching that the go signal was given. Quickly she accelerated and shot through the straight away. The distance between the starting area and the asteroids was a hard fought place. Most people were in the lead by mere meters. As such, she didn't push her craft, keeping it moving quickly, she dodged, spun and maneuvered around other ships, just keeping up with the pack for now. This was not where the winners would be decided, but if you fell behind like some were, it would be the place you started losing. Panic was the biggest enemy here.

Weaving in an out, trying to avoid rivals who wanted to try and ram you or cause some type of damage with their more reinforced hulls, that would make the next part impossible, the woman managed to keep in control the entire time. It was like a dance, she could feel their intentions, move out of the way as they came at her. Oh it was fun, amazingly so. As the outer edges of the asteroid field came into view, she sped up, and tried to pull to the start of the pack, because she knew what was about to happen. Could feel it in the wind.

As they hit the finer rocks at the outer edges of the field, the weaker pilots began to explode behind her, unable to avoid the smaller rocks. But it was so evident to her where they were, sensors and senses, it worked in tandem, making her feel in total control.

Flipping her ship, she went inverted compared to the others following her, and it was only after the others realized why. An explosion wracked the area and she pulled up, letting the energy from it push her further, and faster into the field. As the larger asteroids came into view, ships and mines exploded everywhere around her. It took all she had to keep the ship steady, as the stick shook violently under the strain. Eyes scanned the area around. It was a bit off the path, but there was a group of larger asteroids to the side. Their gravity would make the smaller bits of rock float into them, as well as any mines close to them. Dipping, diving, pulling up and banking, she kept dodging the rocks, the mines until she managed to get close. As soon as she did, it was much smoother sailing. The rocks had done what she had hoped, and she hopped from one to another, only encountering small pockets of rubble, and a couple mines till she was on the other side.

Almost no one had managed to catch up with her, their minds were to focused on the straight line, on the path they had to take, believing the lie it was the quickest way. Now just to get out of this asteroid field, and win this thing. Banking to the right, she headed through the rocks once more. So long as she stayed calm, her mind easily could tell where they would be. It was hard to explain but she could FEEL it.

Right as she exited, there were two fighters in front of her, just barely. Gritting her teeth, as they were about to enter another straight away, she punched the speed, even though it was more dangerous. A single piece of rock hit one of her wings, but caused minimal damage. It had been a close call. Her stick was shaking more than normal now though. Come on, Hold together.

Right in front of her, one of the two ships exploded into a firey display as a small asteroid collided with it straight on. Shrapnel went sent flying, and forced her to dodge quickly taking away precious moments from her time. Then, when past the cloud of debris, it was a neck and neck battle, with one other ship. Desperately, she tried to push her ship for all the power it had, all non-essential power was rerouted into the engines. The ending gate was coming up, and they were to close to tell, she needed a little more, just a bit more. Quickly her hands rerouted the power from the life support, the sensors and comms, and sent it all to the engines. The ship shook heavily, as the damaged wing tried to deal with the strain of this. But it held, and she passed through the gate, her heart beating wildly. It was far to close to tell, who won?!

Flipping back on her life support, comms and sensors, she waited for the announcement. “And the winner......Number 73, Lanann Garwyn!” The elation, the utter relief, and joy she felt was so overwhelming. Leaning back in her seat, she laughed heavily, as her ship continued into deep space. “I did it....”





Later:

Pictures had been taken, she had gotten a trophy, and all that, her sponsors gloated and she advertised their products, and everything was good. That was until Westral came up. The human man was her....assistant. He helped her do everything her handlers wanted, and helped keep her sane as she had to do it. She hugged him and nodded. “Yeah, I know....what's next?” Taking a deep breath the man spoke, shaking his head.

“She...wants you to entertain some of the sponsors. I'm sorry Lana, you know I am.”

She placed a finger on his lips and shook her head, giving a weak smile. “It's okay, truly. Thank you, just show me where to go.” Eyes fluttered closed for a moment and she took a deep ragged breath. She hated this part. Westral reached into his jacket and handed her an injector.

“It's not much, but it should help.”

Reaching up, she kissed his cheek. “Thanks...” Taking the injector, she followed him and stared at it. Oh she didn't even bother asking anymore. Did it matter what type of chem it was, so long as it kept her someplace far from reality? Not really. And if it killed her, at least it would stop. Putting it up to her wrist, she injected the concoction. Bright hazel eyes dimmed, and faded from reality, as the door to the lounge opened, and she was lost in her own little world, while reality continued on.


Evening:

At her room, she was just getting out of the shower, having cleaned herself. A bit of lotion to help heal the bruises, and everything would be fine. It always was. Reaching out, she got dressed, just simple stuff, shirt, pants, boots. Nothing very fancy. When she had, another call from Westral came in.

“She wants to see you, go to this location,” the voice came over the commlink.

“Understood, will be there soon.” Sighing she shook her head. “Kriff it, just give me a break already.” The woman pulled on a jacket, and left, taking a speeder to the club. Soon, she was at the bouncers, and passed in like she owned the place, and not a soul tried to stop her. It was one of the few perks. Without a care in the world, she headed up to the bar. “Corellian Whiskey.” Quickly, one of the twi'lek women slid her the drink, and she began to sip it, before looking around more. More chems? Maybe. Time would tell. A lot of new people in here tonight. Probably to celebrate the CIS and all that jumbo. Didn't matter much to her. No matter what they did, what their rules were, no matter what anyone said.....she was still a slave. Fingers reach up and play with the collar on her neck, filled with explosives. It was small, barely noticeable from a decorative one, unless someone looked much closer. Get out of line, go where you shouldn't be, don't do what they ask.....boom. That was her life, and there was nothing anyone in this galaxy could do about it.

Lana waited, resting at the bar for her handler to show up, or someone else to just talk to her. A soft smile was ever present on her face, and to the rest of the world, she looked perfectly happy.

[member="Marcellus Decker"]
[member="Nika Satari"]

 

[Jerek Zenduu]

Location: Dance Floor
Equipment: Outfit, Hololink
Nearby: [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"]
Objective: Bee Yourself

(Post Soundtrack: Alive by Krewella)​

Jerek could hear the club from a block away, and once they got closer, he could start to feel it, too. The pulsing music sent its vibrations through the ground, turning the street outside into an impromptu dance floor for some. Her arm was wrapped around his, her skin pressed up against his, the heat of it sending electric sparks through his body as [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] led the boy towards the source of the music, bypassing the line of beings waiting to get in. The bouncers seemed skeptical until she waved her pass at them. VIP. Jerek had been wondering about it all night, but now that they were inside, the music was too loud to ask her about.

The beat invaded him, passing through his skin like it wasn't even there. It coursed through his veins, an infection spreading to every part of his body, until even his heart seemed to beat in sync with the pulsing bassline. He found himself already moving, his head bobbing slightly. He wasn't given over to dancing of his own volition, but if Allya's presence wasn't already intoxicating enough, the music was enough to get him drunk.

As much practice as [member="Damian Starchaser"] had given him using the Force against poisoning techniques, Jerek didn't think it was going to be useful here.

Allya was already pulling him toward the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor, and Jerek felt his eyes wandering over the slim dress she wore. Force, she was pretty, no, gorgeous. How could he say no when she asked to dance? Sure, she was a darksider, but if the darkside was full of girls as noble and hot as her, the boy could understand why so many Jedi fell to its temptations. So he followed his temptress willingly.

When she asked if he wanted a drink first, the boy shook his head, and couldn't help but shout back, "If I get thirsty, I'll just drink in more of your beauty."

Oh, Force, why did this girl make him do and say such crazy things?

They danced. There wasn't much more to say about it, the songs shifted, and they moved around the floor a little as the crowd around them shifted, but Jerek stayed right by Allya, rhythmically moving despite his fear that his dancing skills were wholly inadequate. She didn't seem to mind, or maybe she didn't notice. Allya's eyes locked with Jerek's the whole time, and what would normally feel like an awkward stare barely mustered notice. It felt as he was exchanging entire conversations with Allya through her eyes alone.

Finally, she spoke, and mere words seemed like an inadequate response after the infinity they had already spent talking without them. Still, Jerek tried to muster a response worthy of her praise. "I should really be thanking you," he shouted with enough volume to be heard by her over the music. "I've never been to a club before," his face took on a pained expression as he admitted, "Jedi don't really get out much." He laughed, mostly at himself, and gave her a wide smile. "But this is really fun!"

That grin. It just lit up her face, scrunching her freckles in a way he couldn't really describe. Cute wasn't the word. Sexy? Wow, Jerek thought, realizing he wasn't even sure if this girl liked him that way. She clearly liked him, but did she like him? Was he supposed to ask? That didn't seem right to him, so he didn't. For now, anyway. Force knew what the night was going to bring.

At the moment, it seemed that Allya wanted to bring him somewhere, so in lieu of raising his voice again, the boy just nodded and then followed her once again.

 

[Rosario Perlyn]

Rosario had no idea quite how, having made the first friend in the scene on Zeltros, she had quickly traversed the social graph and and found herself in more and more outlandish places. There was no system to it, no conscious choice - and she accepted connections with people as something that simply happened rather than the result of effort and pursuit. The world was a large, confusing place, and the characters that inhabited it were varied. Rosario went with the flow in exploring it, and often found it difficult to pass judgement. There were so many perspectives, some were abhorrent, but others understandable enough once one only knew what they felt. Not all criminals were alike.

It was a matter of course for her to be in the club on someone's invitation. She was wearing patterned black tights, a black miniskirt with thin stripes in all directions and all colours of the rainbow, and a high-necked, close-fitting black jumper adorned with little spots of a glittering silver material. Lolling on a sofa, the Zeltron girl looked not at all out of place. Though she was not a person of any importance in the world of Delta IV, her presence was enjoyed, and her higher-up friends, if one wished to so call them, were not above bragging about their involvement in the political and economic arrangements that had been made. Now, however, they had to excuse themselves to attend to the formalities upstairs.

A little side table stood in front of the sofa, its surface littered with trays of empty glasses, half-eaten fruit, and other utensils of enjoyment. Rosario leaned forward and reached for a tiny case. She opened it, stuck her little finger in the white powder it contained, and put it in her mouth. She screwed up her face briefly at the sour taste of the substance, then neatly closed the case again and put it down. She leaned back in the sofa on which she was now alone, let her gaze wander idly, and gave herself over to the influence of the music and atmosphere.

People were like open books. Rosario's gaze fell on a young couple, younger perhaps even than herself, although the girl looked to be well-built and an early blossomer. The attraction they felt for each other, and their enjoyment of each other's company, radiated through the room in a way that only a human could have missed. It was intense and intoxicating. Rosario was happy for them and basked in the warm glow of the feeling.

Only when they moved to leave her sight did her attention fall on another figure, a young adult woman standing at the bar who was just receiving a drink. It wasn't that she didn't fit in - she looked the part, but her feelings betrayed her. Enjoyment wasn't what she had come for. Rosario felt an impulse to ask her what was wrong, and found herself considering whether to get up and walk over. But it was as if her attention slipped and fell - and plunged into a deep sea of music that filled her consciousness and melted worries away. The place was alive and that was good.

[member="Jerek Zenduu"] | [member="Allya Vi'Dreya"] | [member="Lanann Garwyn"] | [member="Alwine Lechner"]​

 

[Frielle Kinniak]

Delta IV

---

---

---

Abandoned Metro
Beneath the Lux

While the sound of bass poured out of every nook and cranny of the club, Frielle made use of old Galactic Alliance metro lines that used to run beneath it. A hub was halfway established here, she was gonna finish the job. The dull cyan luminescent that filled the area with whatever lighting it could, and seemed to struggle. It was then that Frielle had wished for some Force ability. No use crying over spilled blue milk, instead she reached into her jacket for a small light. A bad pilot's habit but nobody was perfect unless you were a droid and then only if you weren't a B1. The tiny yet powerful bright light seemed to flash, "mhmmm." She stood on the platform and looked down to the left and then down to the right before jumping down to the track.

A small cloud of dirt and dust billowed when she landed. Frielle's feet kicked up a bit more as she shuffled past the platform and stepped onto the small ambulatory that made itself available. With the Alliance now in exile, they needed places to go - safehouses, the in-betweens anything to help them get by. While the majority of their civilians who fled the terror of the Sith Empire and First Order had since resettled. A lot of the former military or intelligence kids as she referred to them had not given up their fight. Most now tried to evade either of the aforementioned governments. The Confederacy was a great place to hide, most especially now with the new Non-Aggression Pact that was in place between the CIS and the Sith Empire.

She waved the light a little to the left and then right, the metro curved to the left slightly and thus far all she could see was darkness. Frielle was looking for a particular 'authorized personnel only' door which would have stairs leading up to it. At the moment? Nothing, at least not yet she shined the light again and managed to spot a small set of duracrete steps. She quickened her pace and headed up the stairs and checked the door. It was locked. Of course, of course, it was locked the Corellian spotted a keycard pad beside the door. Frielle patted herself down with one hand and then brought the small light to her mouth. Frielle bit down on the light's handle and then patted herself down once more before coming up with a blank card, and a small datapick. Frielle stashed the light into her pocket and worked solely with the dull cyan light as she worked the datapick into the keycard pad and then swiped the blank card.

The door unlocked with an audible click. Frielle put her tools back into the small liner pocket of her jacket and went inside.

 

[Miel Tevv]

Lux Cantina​

Delta IV​

​

It had been a long time since Cei had set foot on Delta IV.

Leaning back in the private booth his reputation throughout the Outer Rim had scared up, he marveled at how much a place could change in between puffs of his cigarra. Last time he had been to the little nowhere moon it had been almost respectable, another in a long line of fly over systems connecting the Rim and Core. Now it sort of reminded him of Bburru Station's undercity where he had grown up, except for the part where the tiny little rock was crawling with Confederacy. Captain Kyros didn't play well with authority, but as far as he could recall his record was clean in this neck of the verse.

"To misadventure," he recited his usual toast out loud to no one, knocking back the rest of the Sullustan gin in his glass.

The Lux wasn't his typical scene, the smuggler prince didn't care much for night clubs. But he was meeting someone here for business and on a moon this small his options for entertainment were limited. Cei didn't know much about the owners, their reign had begun after his time, he presumed they were some new crew with ties throughout the local underworld. He had considered hiring out some Consortium bruisers for a 'hostile takeover', but his benefactors had been adamant that he not piss off the Confederacy. Same as it ever was, bunch of bleeding hearts.

His contact was running late now, and Cei checked his chronometer for the half dozenth time. Had something happened? If [member="Frielle Kinniak"] was blown, then chances were he'd never even see the shot coming.

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

Post #1​

Objective: Meet with agent​

Attn: [member="Rhaina Tira"]​

​

• The Five Stars
  Cantina near Lux, Delta IV

Music, they called it. That... screeching, thumping abomination which could be heard echoing even here, several streets away from the main establishment, was such a desecration of the eardrums of sentient beings, that it made the sounds of a Sarlacc's bad digestion seem like a noble and harmonious melody, by comparison. Tacitus could not stand such spectacles of debauchery and degradation, they served no practical purpose whatsoever and lacked even a shred of anything remotely resembling dignity.

The sour-faced Reaper of Lorrd could not care less about humoring the wretches that passed for this planet's citizens, so instead of wasting his time with a pointless party, he chose to spend his time engaging in more productive activities. As soon as he arrived in the moon's orbits, he accessed his more covert channels and set up a meeting with one of his agents on this wretched hive of scum and villainy, a Warden of the Shroud who's task was to monitor the moon's underworld for any signs of activity from the Imperial Remnant faction that was beginning to rear its ugly head in Confederate space.

No matter how clever this warlord was and how good his followers were at keeping a low profile, any sizeable force had to resupply somehow. There were simply too many things that a fleet needed in great quantities, which could not be produced aboard a pack of starships that needed to stay mobile in order to avoid being caught pants down by a force which could destroy them.

So, there had to be a paper trail somewhere. And it was only a matter of time before one of Tacitus' agents found it. It was ironic, how the wheels had turned. Years before, it was the Galactic Empire that was hounding the battered remnants of the Dominion's military. Now they were the ones suffering the same fate. And Tacitus was determined to put a swift end to any hopes they may have of rising from the ashes.

Fortunately, the predetermined location for the meeting was at a sufficient distance from the establishment where that abominable party was going on, and slightly less wretched than most of the other cantinas on this filthy moon, at least in the sense that the number of people-per-square-meter that were lying passed out on the tables as a result of overindulging in the various substances found in copious amounts on every street corner, was less than five.

The establishment itself looked unassuming and rather typical of this world. A bright neon sign advertised its name in a flickering and headache-inducing show garish colors, accompanied by the stereotypical holographic image of a Bith band which was probably what gave the cantina its name, because it sure wasn't the quality of the service on offer.

Stepping over the threshold (and mindful not to step on the wretched thing dozing off right in front of the door for fear that his boots may need decontamination if that were to happen), the Sith Lord walked into the establishment and made a beeline towards the table in the most remote corner and evicted the two drunks that were occupying it with a predatory glare which sent them scurrying off to find another cantina to continue their night of overindulgent excess. He then settled in for the wait, unaware that he was about to meet a very different person than whom he intended to speak with.

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

B E E​

Y O U R S E LF​

Wearing: Dress & Hair
Location: The Five Star Cantina, near Lux, Delta IV
Tags: [member="Darth Tacitus"]

She had heard that he people of the Confederacy of Independent Systems liked their parties. Rhaina had believed these parties would be sophisticated; champagne, live classic music, people in proper attire. Instead, what greeted her as she stepped out of the yacht was… This.

No. Absolutely not. This was not a party that was on par with what she had come to expect of the Confederacy. This was little more than aural drivel designed to get hoards of mental barbarians to get sweaty and take each other home later that night, without a single hint of sophistication or mystery. It was no better than attending a three credit brothel, though she'd heard rumors about the Confederacy having those within its space as well.

Without a single blink, Rhaina turned and walked away from the entrance that would have led her deeper into the cesspool of animalistic stupidity. If any of the sweaty thugs that danced inside would as much as attempt to touch the expensive fabric she had adorned her body with, she would have no choice but to shoot them down, and while she could not honestly claim that she had moral issues with doing that, it would likely instill a first impression that she did not desire with others within the faction.

Thankfully, there was a cantina that seemed sufficiently high class for her tastes nearby. The doors to it did not block the noise out entirely, but at least most of it was muffled now, the bass no longer causing her heart to beat in an unnatural pattern.

"Whyren's Reserve," came her order in a low and almost purring voice as she took one of the high seats by the bar, her back towards the windows. There was no reason to have the den of promiscuity within her field of vision. No reason at all.

 

[Lirka Ka]

[SIZE=11pt]Hadn’t been the first time on this rock.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]And that’s what it was, a rock. A fancy looking rock, a pestilent rock, and a rock that had an ego far larger than it ever deserved. But here she was anyway, Lirka effortlessly remembered the many targets that had ended up with her blade to their neck on this world. A gross many bounties came on worlds like this,[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But she was not here to kill today, well, kill things that weren’t her liver. Again. That poor poor thing.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Lirka’s damaged armor was what she wore, still burning with a mixture of minor damages and the fresh and shiny plates from where she had been utterly torn apart on Copero. In that same regard Lirka was sitting at the bar, ignoring the disgusting tastes in both clothing and music of those present. Trying to grab her booze with a new cybernetic arm: reaching with a hiss of joints and making sure her depth perception was right with the new cybernetic eye, all a bit of a mess.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]But she did in time, guzzling down that lovely stuff (it wasn’t that lovely, she just hadn’t been able to drink for far too long) with a satisfied sigh. Of course, those keen Sephi ears could pick something out from the poor excuse for music booming around the establishment “drink off”. That was very much up her style.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]Rising, Lirka made her way to the young little human. Funny. This should be easy enough. Making her way to the table Lirka pulled out a seat a bit [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]too [/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]much with the cybernetic arm before sitting herself down: looking like just as much of a hulking brute as she ever did. Her cybernetic eye dilating to examine those present.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]“A drink off, eh?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=11pt]She wasn’t good at hiding her interest in the contest. Not at all.[/SIZE]



[member="Marcellus Decker"]

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

Post #2​

Objective: Meet with agent​

Attire: This​

Attn: [member="Rhaina Tira"]​

​

• The Five Stars
  Cantina near Lux, Delta IV

It was not long before another group of people entered the establishment, but these did not seem like the typical rabble that called this moon their home. They blended in well, really well, but someone with a trained eye for such things, would be able to spot them immediately. Firstly, the way their eyes subtly scanned the crowd revealed that they weren't drunk. Or high on spice, which was rather unusual on this world. Then there was also the fact that their mannerisms suggested special forces training and they appeared far too disciplined to be mere mercenaries. Lastly, a keen eye would be able to spot the S3A blaster rifles tucked away under their trench coats, weapons which were usually only seen in the hands of a particular institution from a planet called Nelvaan: Blackwatch.

Indeed, the third one stood out like a walking disturbance in the Force, emanating a wrongness which could only be the result of whatever twisted training produced the Psi Corps operatives of the Nelvaanian secret police organization. The fourth and final member of the group was the most unassuming one, a short Twi'lek which at a glance, seemed like nothing more than the average deathstick peddler, but who's presence in the Force told a different story, that of a highly trained individual who was likely more dangerous than all three of his companions combined.

The three special forces types spread out around the establishment, finding places to blend in that nonetheless gave them a good tactical position in case anything went wrong, one of the two soldiers picking a seat not far from where Rhaina herself stood, but his attention was not focused upon her.

The Force wielder seemed to wander around for a short while, pretending to decide which table to pick before making his way to one of the corners, where none other than the Eternal Emperor of Nelvaan, himself, waited unmistakable even in the plain civilian clothing he wore, taloned fingers absently drumming a pattern into the table, his untouched drink forgotten. A few brief words seemed to pass between them, followed by the discrete sliding of a paper envelope across the table, which the Sith Lord folded in two and withdrew away into a pocket of his jacket. Clever. Datapads could be hacked, while paper suffered from no such vulnerabilities.

Shortly after that exchange, the Force wielding Twi'lek and his three Blackwatch companions suddenly became bored and departed the establishment. What had occurred here, had been a clandestine, but crucial meeting and Tacitus smiled secretly to himself, satisfied that his objective for the night had been fulfilled. Now all that remained was to find something to occupy himself with until it was time for the Confederate officials to finally depart this vile little moon. Preferrably something productive.

His attention, however, was soon drawn to someone he had not expected to see here, one of the Confederacy's newer officials about whom he did not know much yet. And since the opportunity presented itself, he would make use of this occasion and would try to learn all he could, under the guise of discussing matters of interplanetary trade. Abandoning his table and his drink, he made his way to the bar.

"Vicereine Tira," he spoke, his tone formal and polite as he greeted her. "What a pleasant coincidence to meet a proper lady in this... establishment," the Sith Lord said, distaste evident in his voice when he spoke of the setting in which they found themselves. "But where are my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kainan Malvern, Emperor of Nelvaan," Tacitus introduced himself, forgoing his Sith name in favor of his aristocratic one. Thus he made his opening move in the political game of Dejarik.

 

[ToKola Bakari]

​

Location: Delta IV~Lux Cantina​

Objective: Get Karked Up
Tags: [member="Shakti Sweet"] [member="Lirka Ka"]

This night was going to be damned interesting. As expected a few brutes sauntered up to the table to try their hands at the game of drink. Marcellus greeted each of them the same way, with a wide smirk and a challenging glare in his eyes. The waitresses continued to place the shot glasses on the table as men and women began to encircle the large metallic game table. Marcellus leaned back in his chair, his brown eyes scanning the crowd closely. He met the fiery hair that spilled out from [member="Shakti Sweet"] and immediately flashed her an all too welcoming grin. He held a shot glass up, gesturing towards her before downing the shot like he had the last. It was not even the beginning of the game, but Marcellus was enjoying his warm up. The liquor was thin and warm as it rushed down his throat and gave him that all too pleasant burn in his chest. Again, he slammed a hand on the chest before bursting out into a loud ring of laughter.

The Thyrsian's laughter did not fault until a large, imposing woman strode over to his table. He could not help but notice how deadly the woman looked, even in a setting like this. She was definitely a member of the Confederacy and it would likely pay to keep her on the easier going side of things. As the large Sephi took her seat, Marcellus grabbed one of the shot glasses and slid it over to the woman. "House brew. Good chit." He promised, before looking around, noticing there were still a few empty seats.

"What?!" Ya'll got plans in the morning?! Come on!" Marcellus held his arms out expectantly but when no one joined the group at the table, the man let out an audible sigh. "Ok, ok. I know the language." He muttered, before gesturing for one of the servers to come to his side. A curvaceous twi'lek passed by, bending down so she could hear him more clearly. The exchange was brief but when Marcellus finally let the twi'lek go he called out. "Ok! Ten thousand credits to the winner, how about that?!" He yelled out, before leaning back in his chair with a wide smirk.

Kark, I'm gettin' carried away again. He mused, his smirk never failing as he watched the crowd liven up a bit more, a few more chairs finding shebs on them.

 

[Shakti Sweet]

Location: LUX
Objective: Avoiding perminant ear damage
Tags: [member="[FONT=tahoma][COLOR=rgb(122,152,162)][URL="http://starwarsrp.net/user/18044-marcellus-decker/"]Marcellus Decker[/URL][/COLOR][/FONT]"] | [member="[FONT=tahoma][COLOR=rgb(122,152,162)][URL="http://starwarsrp.net/user/18907-lirka-ka/"]Lirka Ka[/URL][/COLOR][/FONT]"]

Watching the gathering crowd around the boisterous stranger was doing wonders to distract the young woman from the pounding music. As he spotted her and hoisted the drink she raised two well groomed red brows and allowed a hint of a smile to touch the edges of her lips. Letting her arms fall to her sides she strode closer to the table, glancing to the new figure who had joined. She presented a very different source of interest; Shakti's eyes settling on the woman's cybernetic enhancements with a curious gaze.

She took the opportunity presented by their host shouting about a wager to slide into one of the empty chairs herself, the latex suit giving a small squeak of protest as she lifted her heels to hook into the bars on the tall seat. She dropped her gaze to the small collection of glasses on the table top and lifted her hands to splay her fingers along the table top. She took it in turns to look at the two seated and standing beside her before gingerly reaching forward and pulling one of the shot glasses in front of her.

She leaned forward and took a whiff, immediately leaning back as her nose scrunched and her eyes narrowed. Ugh. Great. She grasped the glass at the base and lifted it to her lips, tossing it back with another spill of messy red hair, before slamming it back down onto the table. It took a moment before she lifted her free hand to her chest and she coughed, the sound nearly inaudible, just quick exhales as she turned her head to the side and struggled visibly.

Oh gods. Awful. Nope.

 

[Luna Terrik]

Location: Lux Cantina
Objective: Attempting to enjoy herself with the horrifying music
Outfit: Sparkly sparkly sparkly (Full outfit and hair)
Tags: [member="Shakti Sweet"] [member="Marcellus Decker"] [member="Lirka Ka"]

Before this moment, Luna Terrik had no idea that music could be so incredibly…loud. Booming. Slightly obnoxious. And yet the people inside the three story tall structure seemed to be enjoying themselves greatly. The only way, that Luna could figure out, that anyone would really enjoy this music would be through lots and lots of alcohol. So the moment the redhead walked into the venue, hair curled high in multiple messy buns, she attempted to find the nearest bar to find something to dull her senses.

"Ok! Ten thousand credits to the winner, how about that?!" A hearty, full voice cried out over the music from the area of the bar.

Now that was a quick way to get a soldiers attention. A drinking contest with a credit load enough for Luna to get some new modifications for her armor? Yes please. The siren’s call of drinks and credits quickly brought the redhead in, only to see one of the other contestants currently coughing her lungs up after taking a shot, or what she could assume was coughing, since she couldn’t hear a thing over the music.

The commander walked over to the redhead and gave her a quick squeeze on the shoulder to get her attention, mouthing a “are you alright?” towards the latex wearing patreon. Assuming that she could handle herself, Luna slowly turned to the bar, grabbing one of the shotglasses full of the acholic. Raising the glass to her lips, she tipped her head back to the let the burning liquid slide down her throat.

With a slam of the glass on the bar, and a clench of her teeth, she attempted to keep down the strong drink. Her eyes eventually found the Thyrsian she assumed was running the whole shin-dig, grinning widely before slowly flipping the glass over, and placing it upside down on the bar.

 

[Helly Reyne]

​

Location: LUX
Wearing: Coruscant (just the outfit)
Objective: R A V E
Tags: [member="Luna Terrik"] | [member="Shakti Sweet"] | [member="Marcellus Decker"] | [member="Lirka Ka"]

As soon as Helly walked through the doors of the cantina, she let it envelop her entirely as she closed her eyes, one outlined with a thick layer of red and the other with a thick blue, only to open them to the simultaneous dropping of the bass as she raised her arms in the colorfully strobing lights to dance like the world wasn't watching.

She would always be welcome at LUX, having graced it with a live performance of her own once before. While the rest of the band might not have been with her that time, she was always the one to appreciate the place most anyway. Getting lost in the vibrancy of the colors and lights, drowning in the music, indulging in the spice. Just a moment after inhaling a line through her nose off of the tray brought to her by a Twi'lek woman, she could feel the swirls appearing in her eyes as she became the illustrious night incarnate, the gracious essence of song and dance, and the merciless harbinger of all color known to the galaxy and more.

The world around her was a painted picture, one that shifted every time the lights reignited the crowd. Her disheveled icy blonde hair would soon be covering her face in strands as she locked eyes with a woman just a few feet away. She could tell that she was trying to distinguish whether or not it was actually her, and Helly merely continued to dance, giving her a snapshot with every strobed flash of light before they could feel each other, two bodies swimming in the cosmic aether, hands in hands, minds to minds, fleeting only for a moment until she stroked the woman's face with the tips of her fingers, then nothing more.

Finding herself by the bar eventually, separately lit from the rest of the club, she happened upon two women of crimson hair beside one another, sliding behind the one in sparkles and speaking softly into her ear through bright magenta lips.

"Drinks or lines? Speak your poison."

 

[Peyton Steele]

The way the galaxy was moving, there was so much work to be done. And with the Alliance falling down, those who found the Jedi as a rallying point were working on linking together. She had heard word and messages from the Order as well as the Smuggler’s Alliance to meet here at Delta. The blonde was touristing around, she heard talk of people heading this way. From here she was hoping to keep up with a few moves of various people. She heard that one of the Wraiths was kicking around in Confederacy space and assumed it would be good to make a link.

She was helping keep an eye on the Confederacy. As best she can. It was that sort of deep assignment, making sure that the refugees from former Alliance worlds were taken care of, and to provide a link to the D’Qar Alliance in Exile HQ. She went a few weeks and months without a contact, but life in the Confederacy wasn’t so bad. But the blonde stepped into Lux. She could see a few familiar faces, but one she wasn’t expecting to see. Adjusting her jacket, the booted-and-jeaned woman approached the bar.

Leaning forward, she ordered a Sullustan Fireball and gave a tip before taking her seat. She looked at Cei and gave a quick nod, not one that was super familiar. If the Smuggler Prince wanted to announce that he knew the Alliance agent, that was up to him. She knew Frielle was going to be on time, or she hoped. But if not, she could have a drink, maybe take in a song or two. There were a few people, right?

[member="Cei Kyros"]
[member="Frielle Kinniak"]

 

[Frielle Kinniak]

Delta IV

---

---

---

Abandoned Metro
Find a Way to the Lux

Frielle looked left and then right, she looked around for a switch but there was none to be had and then she checked the time. Feth. She had to catch up with Cei and now to figure a way out of here, so the Corellian stepped further in what seemed to be a monitoring station and maintenance hub. It could be refurbished with the Exiles taking advantage of the abandoned metro itself as an extended base, but those ideas had to be shuffled away for the moment. Right now she had to shake out of here faster than the Rains on Endor. The abandoned metro was, well, dark, cold and clammy of the most unpleasurable sort. Dust clung to everything and the stench wasn't exactly great either, dank and moldy. Frielle coughed and pulled her black shirt up over her nose a moment as she fetched her light again. She proceeded down toward the maintenance hub the hope was to find a door, a ladder or anything that might lead to the surface.

A few meters into the hall, she found herself in the hub and looked around. Datapads were strewn about, and old droids that looked to be in need of repair were slumped. It was like everyone just walked away from their stations and never came back. Frielle imagined it was probably just that and not the alternative, no signs of foul play or blood at least not yet. The spacer turned Corellian knew what the Sith and the First Order were like. She had seen the footage from Skor II, and from Bespin when they replayed the First Order's way of disciplining their soldiers. While she had yet to encounter them in person, let's just say she was hoping to keep it that way. Frielle spotted another door at the other end this one led further down to the right and on the left a ladder.

Stuffing the light back into her pocket while simultaneously shutting it off she headed up the ladder and with a small push of her hand felt the cover give way. She pushed it up and heard the thud it made as it clanged against the durasteel floor of the club. Frielle pulled herself out and shut the door and looked around, she had ended up in the warehouse portion of the club and decided to head for the nearest lift. "How's it goin'? Yeah? Nice, was just checkin' the booze, ye' ye' catch ya lata mate." She said with a fake accent, to a man who was either high or drunk, and quite probably both but wore a name tag and had asked what she was doing. Frielle lied her way through the next part of their conversation until she was able to step off the lift and head into the club from the VIP section.

The bouncer seemed a little shocked, Frielle just nodded to him as if she belonged there. Now it was time to spot her contacts as the lights dropped low and the bass thumped, thumped its way into her body her soft green eyes began to search. Walking down the stairs to the first floor it didn't take long for Frielle to spot Captain Kyros and Peyton? That might be a little harder, blondes seem to be a dime a dozen in a place like this. Hopefully, she was already there and could see Frielle approaching the Duros. The brunette gave a nod to the Duros in the hat, who she presumed to be Kyros as she saddled up beside him. "Corellian Whiskey." She ordered.

[member="Peyton Steele"] | [member="Cei Kyros"]