Drol Raw Redux [Wildlands Game Reserve]

[Blackthorne]

"Not exactly," a straying reply as she searched the cupboard for a glass and a decanter filled with dark, murky liquid. A gentle swill mixed the contents and sent a ringing within the glass of crystal again the inside. Dahl poured herself a healthy measure, shrugged off her winged companions and turned to meander back over to the bed.

"More of a passing stranger of sorts. I happened across his likeness at the Cove not long ago. Seems a lot of vagabonds know his name but few are willing to discuss."

She rejoined him on the bed to lay on her side, glass settled on the mattress between them, one elbow propping her up, legs curled back.

"As well read as you were I thought maybe you might know something, but I suppose he wouldn't quite reach your circle..." Dahl glanced him over before taking a drink from her glass.

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant was tempted to crane his neck and see where it was those Tailrings flew off to, but he decided he didn't actually want to know. It was probably covered in their droppings.

"Sounds like you want someone to find something out for you," Maleagant shifted onto his side facing the [member="Blackthorne"] as well. "Where'd you 'happen upon' him, exactly?"

Maybe the vagabonds were reluctant to talk to Blackthorne (he couldn't imagine why), but there were plenty of people in the Helix Syndicate who had a whole lot of ways to get people to talk. Whether that involved breaking news or breaking fingers, they got talking eventually. Didn't matter how scary Mr. Seresh was - the goon in the red jumpsuit and the bull's eye helmet would be much scarier. It was all about proximity and who was holding the bloody hammer.

Usually such services cost money. Fortunately, payment had just been received upfront. How wonderful.

 

[Blackthorne]

"Noo..." a gentle tut, she shook her head while slowly circling the pad of her pointer finger around the rim of the glass. There was something decidedly provocative about the action, as if she were recalling fingers trailing along stripes while doing so.

"Chasing a fable isn't something I imagine you would deign to spend effort on," a faint smile, she tilted her head to the side, "that's all he is, a story. Regaled to young Piratlings to enamor them with the thrill of the hunt - the great Pirate King of the 400 year darkness who pillaged, plundered, and ravaged the stars with his cursed crew, making port at an unnamed planet that would only be found by those who had already been there, guided by a mystical compass that leads you to your heart's greatest desires."

Her smile split into a half smirk, "They're good stories."

 

[Darth Osano]

Maleagant snorted. "Doesn't sound good," he said. "Could've been made up by anyone."

A mystical compass? Seriously? What kind of hackish plot device did that have to be? If Seresh could have some device imbued with the arcane elements of the Force to accomplish some particular purpose and he chose a compass out of all things, he probably wasn't even that good at pirating in the first place. How overwhelmingly useless. "You're right though. I wouldn't bother." At the end of the day, Maleagant preferred his pirates real, female, and bitey. "Too much real money to worry about."

 

[Blackthorne]

She could not help the chuckle, eyeing the Rattataki with amusement. What happened to this man's childhood? Had he never experienced such things as the proverbial fabled tales around the firepit - metaphorically speaking. Dahl could hardly imagine him conducting something so savage and uncivilized as a meal around a campfire after a long day hunting in the wilds. The woman's brow knit slightly, smile failing at the memories flooding in. Green eyes turned down to her glass where the mirth in her gaze withered noticeably, moony pools darkening to the deep stormy green of a tumultuous ocean. Dahl drank pensively.

"Of course they were made up. They are the collective tales of a people dispersed across the stars, surviving in the only way they know how."

Curiously enough she'd come to find a camaraderie among the number of star heathens at the Cove. Though a healthy rivalry existed between clans and fleets, it wasn't unusual for them to come together in times of celebration and even desperation. It reminded her of home.

A place so seemingly far away.

 

[Darth Osano]

She actually seemed to be taking it somewhat seriously. He recognized the facial cues of someone experiencing... Sentimentality. Or nostalgia, more likely. Maleagant himself had no love for his past, excepting for the scenarios where he thought about changing some key events. Like the part where his family was gunned down and the Black Iron Tyrant's special forces shot up a college dormitory looking for him. That could do with some re-visioning.

"Hmph," said Maleagant, clearly a little less pensive. "They got any stories about a Pirate Queen of Rattatak?"

 

[Blackthorne]

Dahl glanced up, cheeks pressing into her eyes for a smirk that wasn't quite there.

He really felt strongly about Rattatak, didn't he? Curious. Was he even from there aside from being of a people hailing from the planet? What exactly drove him so passionately towards her comeuppance of a place she, frankly, had no business ruling? Was it really all about seeing an ancient monarch fall? She supposed the idea was moving but if there was a certain ancient monarch she personally wished to topple it was hardly one baring the last name Zambrano.

"No," she leaned towards him, "not yet. But I'm sure someone's got a plot in the works. Good stories take time to unfold, you know. Even if it might be a bit cliche..."

The smirk finally appeared just before she pushed herself to sit up again, stretching to place her glass on a side table as she slipped from the bed. Languid steps carried her across the room, arms lifting to comb fingers through the length of her hair, "I rather like the story about the Pirate Queen and the strange looking Rakatan, I hear there's a scene where she invites him into the shower but I've not read it yet."

The black satin robe dropped from her shoulders only steps before she disappeared through a doorway.