Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Meet the New Brass [Red Ravens]

It was a nice speech. Not long at all, but didn't have the pizzazz needed to shine above the demonstration moments before. He had cheered loudly when Cryax blew the mans brains out with the nail gun. It was the kind of raw, brutal prowess that every leader of a criminal organization needed to show. But the energy and and emotion quickly left him after. It wasn't uncommon for parties to do that to him. He was a gruff man and large throngs of people put him on edge. He had retreated to a secluded booth in the back of the room shortly after the speech with a bottle of whiskey in one hand, the other intertwined with that of a female companion from the crowd. He slide into the table, the few other Raven faces at it grinning at him. He slid the bottle into the middle of the table with a slight grin and told them to enjoy. Here in this secluded booth he was much more at ease. Things seemed to make more sense to him. He wasn't a stupid man, but his intellect stood no match to that of Cryax or other slicers. While they had an affinity for the more technical sides of life and the mind, his mind tended to float toward the emotional parts of life.

He chuckled softly to himself as he took a regular sized glass and filled with with the brown liquid from the bottle. He quickly sent [member="Cryax Bane"] a text, "Spending time w/ old friends. Will come by l8r and party w/ u and ravens." He looked around the table at the familiar faces seated there. Some of them had been part of his crew back on Nar Shaddaa, others new to their little circle. Even though he was now far superior to them in terms of the Ravens, he didn't plan on becoming a stuffy bookworm that had his face buried in paperwork all day. These were his friends and it was their night to enjoy. He leaned back in his chair and listened to his friends make jokes and talk shit to each other. Just like old times, he thought to himself as he took a sip from the glass of whiskey.
 
Clank, clink, clank, clink. Idle hands twirled the lit zippo about extended fingers as the alternate hand swirled the Whyren's Reserve in it's crystalline tumbler. His cowl hid the nearly absentminded gaze as he contemplated the notions of existing in such a place. The rare Corellian whiskey was a deep brown, almost red in tone, and the blue and purple lights caught the flicker of the glass with the rare occasion, sending shimmers across the table. He continued to stir it with lackadaisical force, opening the tones of the casket and the malt and the aging process. He recalled, some time ago, when he had known a woman who longed for nothing more but his touch and the taste of the whiskey. Dead and gone, he thought, just like everything else he touched. Would this shaky alliance, balanced upon metal beam in a windstorm, fall to the same sort of fate. The Sith weren't meant for the sort of long-lasting relationship that this Alliance implied, though he did relish in the notion of casting away the old to make way for the new. He recalled that venture on Barab I with some sense of glee, the bouncing through low gravity, the low oxygen, the cutting and killing and destroying and beating. Called in for reinforcements, the mere utterance of his name was the only indication of his presence there. And word for the grapevine revealed former mercantile alliances fractured from the actions of a few splintering Sith Lords, looking to create chaos in the format they knew best. It was all for the One Sith, always had been, and the Voices back alley treaties weren't enough to stand against the brute nature of the Red Ravens and their momentum. Such things were beyond enticing, fledgling corvid plummeting from the nest and cracking the back of a wounded rabbit. The irony of a black son being blotted out by sheer force of will was not lost on the Sith Lord. A seemingly prognostic name, prophecy self-fulfilled.

Reaching into his armorweave robes, beyond the armor beneath, he pulled a cigarra of deep brown tones, maduro and formerly cut with a blackened cutter. Prior to lighting, he placed the cylinder against mouth and tasted the mixture of semi-sweet chocolate, oak, and cherry. Of course, half the taste of the object resided within it's smell, potent and full bodied. He breathed in several small puffs as the lighter drifted against the end, awakening the olfactory senses and pulling heat into the mouth and lungs. Embers and smoke arose from the shaft in vibrant oranges and reds and yellow, a brown and grey tunnel with an exhaling light at the end. Pocketing the lighter and pulling a piece of wrap from lip, leftovers from the cutting, he surveyed the room. Concealing his force presence, he had recently discovered a decent bounty placed on his head. No matter, he was but a single hand, a cog easily replaced should it become defective. Such was the nature of the Sith, for where there were those who had the power, there were also those who desired it. A dynamic system was easily produced in such circumstances.

Nevertheless, he had pinpointed at least 4 different locations in which to evade incoming forces, should the need arise. But that wasn't really his style. He would be more likely to level the place should the need arise, Samson bringing the building down on top of him. And from the folds of his robes, Crimson eye fixed upon a man that seemed familiar in presence. He didn't recall the face, but more the being within. Like remembering a location from a projected scent, he recalled visions of a man flung through the maze of a space station and out into space. It was something he hadn't seen but more a potential outcome, realized, that was viewed through the lens of Shatterpoint. Cracking his neck, he contemplated the mans presence and his initiation into the folds of leadership given by the Chiss who had previously loosed a nail into the brain of a mercenary. [member="Logan of Little Coruscant"], a lengthy name indeed.
 
The table around him erupted into laughter as the usually so sullen man cracked a joke about an Imperials mother and a Bantha. Some choked on their whiskey, spewing the golden liquid all over the smooth table top. The droplets slid across the table, soaking the napkins and other things on the table. The light shown through the whiskey spilled on the table, reflecting all the lights from the main floor around their little booth. Other snorted and blew smoke out their noses as if they were part dragon as well, the smoke drifting up to the ceiling before dissipating into the already smokey air. It was a time of merriment and a time for them to enjoy themselves. He set his glass of whiskey down after he finished his joke and checked the screen that he kept on his wrist at all times. A small red light blinked on the upper right hand corner, doing its best to get Logans attention. He touched the screen twice and a small box that was connected directly to the security systems popped up. He scrolled down a bit, reading over names that appeared on this list of notable arrivals. He quickly read over the names that he had seen already and found the newest one on the list, [member="Reverance"] .

He slid out of the private booth and excused himself from his friends, wishing that he could stay in their company a while longer. But he was the vice president now and it was up to him to make sure things ran as smoothly as they could. He started making a quick sweep around the room, his eyes glancing over faces, attire and other small details. He didn't expect the Sith Lord to be a problem because they had extended an invitation to those who wished to appear, but one could never be to careful. He shook his head as he started to walk around the edges of the room as the center mass was far to crowded and he doubted the Sith would be partaking in the life of the party. His sharp eyes glanced around the shadows and corners of the room, taking in both familiar and unfamiliar faces. He actually had no clue what this man looked like as he hadn't seen the mans face during the invasion, but he felt that he could figure it out. The few Sith that Logan had encountered prior to this one had all carried themselves in a way that was unmistakable. A certain swagger and cockiness in their step, but one that wasn't overbearing and made you draw conclusions. It was a powerful, commanding aura that they had had about them, and he doubted Gabriel lacked the same.
 
Habit, habit, habit. His hand reached up to the swirly flesh where his right eye used to be, scratching it vigorously as he inhaled another puff of the cigarra. Just the sort of relaxation he needed, the wrap originating from an Ak tree from Tython gave the object an almost euphoric sense with every pull. He nestled the cylinder between strummed fingers and thumb, feeling the gentle reminder that where his vision was once compromised of two, it was now reduced to one. It didn't impact as much as some would think, though it did require an abundance of practice to overcome the loss of depth perception. THUMP THUMP THUMP! The beat of music echoed across the casino, the remnants of dancing traced itself in vibrant yet hushed tones that preceded the room where it occurred. Gabriel had little care for such recreational dancing, often finding comfort in more sadistic hobbies that sated his need for pain. But to truly appreciate such endeavors, one had to experience pleasure and the absence of pain and the confusion of such intermingling of polar opposites. A practice of the mind, an aptitude for understanding his own sentiments, drove him to such temporal complacency in his current position. He could linger here for a bit longer.

Just then, he noticed [member="Logan of Little Coruscant"] shuffling about the casino, in obvious search for someone...or something. Who knew what it was? From the depth of his mind, Gabriel prodded for purpose and found the image of a man in a familiar space suit within a space station. Having realized that the scruffy looking leader was looking for none other then Reverance, the Sith Lord gave a smile that was perceived only by the innards of the whiskey tumbler as he took a small sip. Pulling once more on the cigarra, he placed the object within the beveled edge of the porcelain ash tray, and rested his hand on the back of the leather sofa. With the force, for only a perceivable split second, he nudged the wandering leader. A mere tip of the iceberg, and yet a revelation in and of itself, Gabriel gave the slightest hint of the power he revealed upon the space station in Barab I. A subtle hint to lead the young man towards the table in which the Sith Lord now resided.
 
A scarred and weathered hand dropped into Logans pants pocket and pulled out a leather-bound case of spicy Dragon Casino cigarettes and a poodooty, cheap lighter than was found it almost every convenience store and gift shop across the. A single long, cream colored smoke was pulled out of the fancy holder, placed gently between Logans lips. He breathed in slightly, flicking the lighter on and holding it up to the end of the cigarette. Smoke slowly began to waft up into the already cloudy air, the colorful smoke gracefully reaching the ceiling and sending a small ripple of blue through the already muddy cloud that hung above everyone. He took a long puff and sent more smoke toward the ceiling, letting the smoldering cigarette hang in the left corner of his mouth, pressed tightly between clenched lips. A piece of ash fell from the lit end and fell onto the back of his hand. Flicking his wrist with a soft, grunt that was hardly audible over the loud repetitive music, he sent the cool ash to the floor where he smothered it with the heel of his boots before he kept walking around the edge of the room as he puffed on the cigarette occasionally.

He wasn't quite sure how, but before he knew it his feet had led him to a booth where none other than [member="Reverance"] was seated. He nodded at the man with one eye and sat down opposite him without a word. He wasn't exactly here to make friends, but he figured it wasn't every day there was a Sith lord at a Red Raven inauguration so it would be worth his time to ask the man a few things while he could... or even while he still could if the questions rubbed the man wrong. He said nothing for a moment as he studied the mans face and his expression, revealing nothing about the clearly secluded man. The best he could come up with was that he was a man of violence, pain and suffering (whether his own or that of others he couldn't quite grasp). The missing eye and hard expression told him that much, but little else. Taking one last puff of the cigarette before reaching over the table that separated the men and smoldering it, he looked the Sith in the eye and said, "I never got to thank you for the help on Barab I." He wasn't exactly sure how he knew that this was the same man who had been behind the powerful armor, but it had to have been. He was the only one in the room who had the same aura about him.
 
"Thank you, I will."

Was the reply to his offer. It was good to know that he valued her enough he wanted to keep her on his side. Much safer for her that way. Of course she didn't really need that much. She mostly just needn't people not to revoke any of the liberties she'd taken. The room at the casino, the open tab.. As far as she was concerned it was merely a retainer, but seeing as up until this moment she'd not formally had any role with the Ravens..

"Diplomacy I can do, I would be pleased to accompany you."

Besides, particularly if he was planning on dealing with the One Sith to any great extent, it often helped to have a force user present. Some of them tended to.. disregard those who couldn't manipulate the Force. A dangerous move of course, but since they were meant to be allies, one that should be mitigated instead of encouraged where possible.

"Your security is top of the line of course, and I'm more than willing to entrust my life to them, after all you do, but, when possible I would prefer him."

She glanced up at the Big Boy standing behind her. There were a couple reasons for this. One, he couldn't be programmed or sliced his loyalties weren't set by the best hacker. Two, she was more comfortable around organic beings because she understood them better and they were easier to manipulate. Three, he was likely hardier and could do more damage, a well timed EMP or one of the force users who could connect with droids wouldn't take him out of the game. For the most part she thought a security detail was unnecessary, but on the off chance she actually needed one.. She wanted the best.

[member="Cryax Bane"] [member="Xalus"]
 
The Sith Lord would have motioned for the man to sit down, but it seems that he was already intent on doing so. It was his house after all, Gabriel in the land not of his own. The singular impression driven into the mind was enough to convince Logan of Gabriel's true identity, despite the tactical placement of obscurity both in his current garb and in the space suit he wore in the space station of Barab I. At the time, the conflict between the Red Ravens and the Black Suns inspired a sort of schism beyond it's own intention, putting Voices of the One Sith against Sith Lords and Sith Knights of the like. It was for this reason, and for the necessity to breath, that Gabriel had worn such visage through the space station, opting for tinted visor instead of the standard transparency of which the suits were more than capable. It was the same reason he sat now in such seclusion, hiding identity from site. Yet, Logan showed a connection that seemed serendipitous, especially for two individuals had only seen each other once and never been formally introduced.

As for the comment of thanking Gabriel for his contribution, the Sith Lord merely smiled. Leaning forward, he pulled the cigarra back away from the ash tray and placed it between his teeth and lips. Inhale, exhale, the light flickered to reveal the haggard darkness beneath and the singular crimson eye staring out from the left socket. A vibrant swirling display of sanguine tones. Pulling it away, he drank from the tumbler and leaned over the table, scooting the bottle and another glass in front of [member="Logan of Little Coruscant"]. A delicate placement of the crystalline cup, he leaned back against the chair, cigarra hanging lazily between fingers. Smoke drifted upwards, as silent as their current conversation. But that would soon change.

"Being jettisoned out in to space would put a damper on such...sentiments." He tapped his tongue against his bottom front teeth, a nearly audible idiosyncrasy, as he leaned forward and dashed the ash from the tip of the cigarra. It fell into a neat smoking briquette, black against white stained with smudges of brown. "Congratulations on your recent promotion." Pausing, he placed the cigarra back between teeth. "Now you can put a face to the name Reverance...and I can put a face to the name Logan of Little Coruscant." The Sith Lord spoke loud enough for Logan to hear but that was the extent of his audibility.
 
A slight chuckle escaped from behind his lips as the man opposite him cheekily recalled his last ditch efforts to get of the ship he thought was going to blow up. He leaned forward and wrapped his right hand around the neck of the bottle that had been slid towards him. He unscrewed the cap with two quick, deft twists of his wrists and poured the liquid into the cup also set in front of him. The whiskey splashed into the bottom of the cup, creeping up the sides of the clear glass and eventually rolling back inwards before it was consumed by the rest of the liquid that poured down into the cup. He lifted it to his lips and tilted it back, the cool liquid running across his teeth and tongue, burning slightly as it joined the rest of the whiskey he had already drank that night. He shivered slightly as it burned his throat, but it was a very slight movement as he did his best to control the almost inescapable action.

Relief washed across his face however as he laughed. When he had sat down he sensed there was something... off... about this man. But for all Logan could have known it could have been a twisted criminal and not the man he was looking for. When he spoke as if he knew exactly who he was and of his actions at Barabel I there was a slight weight lifted from his shoulders. However, it was almost instantly replaced with a sense of dread that was shortly confirmed after Logan mumbled his thanks regarding the promotion. This was [member="Reverance"] . There was no mistaking it now. This was the man who had accompanied them during the invasion and who's presence he had been alerted to by the security system. "If I recall correctly, it was your warning that was the ultimate cause of me being jettisoned."
 
Raising an eyebrow in mock surprise at Cryax's touch Jalek didn't give any other indication that the Chiss' hand rested on his knee other than a small smirk. His free hand rested on top of the other, and he gently intertwined their fingers, wondering just how far he would go before withdrawing and making no more efforts to show any sort of affection towards him for the rest of the night. There was one way to find that out, but he decided to start slowly, simply squeezing the other man's hand gently under the table with a murmured phrase in his best attempt at Cheunh, "Ch'eo k'ein's." The chances of him being understood by any of the other Ravens was slim, and it was simply his way of making a statement while still keeping things out of the public eye, as had been requested by Cryax earlier.

Surprisingly enough he had listened to the business dealings made and proposed with a curious sort of silence, entertaining himself with his own private thoughts and the kitten curled on itself currently sleeping peacefully on his chest. Any sort of quiet was odd for him, but he knew there was some truth to everything Cryax had told him about keeping up appearances, and as a veteran of surviving the streets of Taris, he knew that better than anyone. This was his time to watch things transpire, and otherwise get a feel for just what life in the Red Ravens would be like, even if they didn't know of his exact relation with the president of the organization.

Something told him that Cryax would become more lenient with his displays of affection as the night wore on, but only time would tell. For now he conceded to allow this to be as far as they went, and he nodded in the direction of [member="Ice"] and [member="Chiasa Kritivaas"] once introductions were made, not feeling the need to make any other comments about their presence. Whether or not they got on well would be decided when they spoke more than two words to each other, or any at all beyond the common pleasantries.

Instead he leaned down to lift another kitten out of the box, this one with a bluish tint to its fur, its eyes the same color, though a lighter shade. The only distinguishing thing about it was the collar it wore around its neck, this one a blue more similar in color to Cryax's skin, a silver pendant hanging off with one word engrave, 'Blue'. It was a blatant reference to the nickname that he'd given Cryax during their time together, and with a half smile he handed it across to the man. Now was the true test of how he would receive the Morellian in public.
 
He couldn't help but press air out from his nostrils, the almost muted laugh escaping the Sith Lord was one of recognition. It was true, he had read the vision wrong. There was fire, Barab locals sifting through ashes and skulls, Mr. Ash exploding in a flames, and countless other visions of Lysle and his comrades being dispatched by the black suns forces. It was the pitfall of Shatterpoint and it's ability to interpret the future and the weaknesses that coalesce. Sometimes the future goes the way we want it to, other times it doesn't, and then sometimes visions of fire and dead ravens become nothing more than hyperbole extended across the intercoms in the form of spamming advertisements. Mr. Ash became more than what he was and Gabriel had felt deceived by his own abilities, interpreting inaccurately in a situation to which he was not intimate. And yet, here they were, both alive and well, even better than they had been before. Drinking whiskey and smoking and enjoying the candidness that could be reserved for such situations, where the air was plentiful and the gravity was normalized. Sometimes, it was important to recognize the silver lining. Even if he was the Lord of Pain, he was capable of such revelation.

"Yeah, can't argue with you there..." He spoke as he took another sip of the whiskey. If the newly anointed leader was looking for apologies, he came to the wrong booth. For all Gabriel knew, [member="Logan of Little Coruscant"] would have been killed had he not been jettisoned out of the space station. Such was the beauty of the uncertainty of a future that failed to transpire, the possibilities were limitless. There was no way either could know, for sure, the fate of those involved had Gabriel not warned them of his vision. Beneath the wings of Shatterpoint, Gabriel finds his confidence even amidst his own failures. "You're alive...as are your comrades. It seems a little jettisoning was just what the doctor ordered." He said with a slight smirk. "But, I imagine you didn't come over here to reminisce over that space station and the wake we left."
 
Logan spread his arms in recognition and acceptance of the truths [member="Reverance"] spoke. The man had a point after all. He was alive and well and he honestly doubted that he would have lasted any longer after taking such a beating from being thrown about the ship in the manner that he had. "I still owe you my life however. If I hadn't gotten the hell out of there when you said we should, I would probably have been ground into very small pieces by several dozen Black Sun guards," he said as he slowly lowered his hands until the left one rested on the table and the right was draped over the edge of the smooth, black sofa he was sitting on. He fidgeted slightly before addressing the Sith Lords second observation, reaching up with his left hand to grab his cup. A soft clink could be heard as the metal ring on his middle finger hit the side of the cup as he went to raise it to his lips once again. He took a long sip before setting it back onto the table softly. He looked as if he was about to start speaking but he suddenly stopped, pulling out the pack of cigarettes he always had on him.

He pulled one out and placed it between his lips, unlit yet. "You are correct in assuming so... however lovely it might be to look back on our joyous time there..." He paused for a moment to lit the cigarette hanging limply between his lips, taking a long puff be fore he took it from his mouth and set it on the table. "Now, I do not mean to presume anything so I implore that you do not decide to lop off my head after I say what I must.... I seek a master. And I would be honored if you would accept me into your..." He raised an eyebrow upon completing his sentence. "Loving arms."
 
The music continued to play in its loud and frankly irresistible catchy tune. That was at least Jennifer's opinion. She was actually certain that The Dragon Palace had some of the best Disc Jockeys and Bands throughout the galaxy. Excitement was felt in the warm air that had started to build up in the club as the party went along, the very same air that the music send ripples through was felt hammering against ones chest at every given beat. That was how these parties with the Ravens often were like; parties Jennifer had grown quite accustomed to by this point. After all, she had been to a multitude of the parties here at The Dragon Palace, all major as far as she could recall and of course some of the minor ones that happened at every given point of the week. She had even went so far as to prevent herself from coming to some of them, since she had attended the nightclubs almost, if not, daily during one of her self-proclaimed vacations. Truly, it was almost a miracle that she had not started doing drugs yet after having been here so often. There was some awful shady types at the parties at times. Or well, did cigarettes count as drugs? She supposed that they did in some way, but c’mon… She flashed herself a grin that caught the attention of a male Twi’lek that passed by, her gaze following him as he passed her on her left side. She took a drag from her the long paper cylinder that rested between her fingers, marked as a Cæmel Dragon Cigarette. She blew out a stream of cyan smoke in a silent whistle as she spun on her feet, walking backwards for half a second as her gaze followed the Twi’lek that was headed towards the kitchens with a plate with empty glasses in his hand, taking only the extra second to look with a smile on her face before continuing the spin back to her original forward facing position.

Where was she headed again? Oh right, the table by the edge of the room where [member="Daxton Bane"] was sitting with his cards, still of unknown kind to Jennifer. But she was in mood for some gambling, so why not? Her adventurous nature was probably also helped by the alcohol in her system.. But.. Still. Approaching the table Jennifer gave a quick bow of her head in a greeting to Daxton, a broad smile seen on her face as she went to take yet another drag from her cigarette, nodding towards the cushion by the table as if asking if she could sit. Yet it didn’t seem like she waited for an answer, slowly going to sit down as she had blown out another stream of cyan smoke. Her elbows placed by the edge of the table as she glanced towards Daxton with her usual kind smile. “Hey, what is it that you’re playing?”
 
[member="Jen"]

The Sith grinned as he shuffled the deck once more, fate indeed was a strange mistress. "A game of chance, young miss. To know what the future will bring." Glancing at her fate lines using the power of Shatterpoint, he would attempt to delve into what her short term future would bring. "Although I could offer games of chance if that is more to your speed?"
 

Puppet Kyrios

Guest
P
Asteria waited a few more minutes, but finally decided to head back to the Finality for some needed rest, after sending one more quick message to [member="Ice"] that read, Nevermind, I'll be at the ship docking bays if you need me. Hangar 24B.
 
Loving arms. The guy had spunk, the Sith Lord had to admit that much. Back in the Sith Academy, students often didn't draw attention in such ways in fear of the repercussions. Hard up for the opportunity to draw blood, Sith Lords had become far too accustomed to the notions of maiming or killing acolytes for the shear message that it sent. It was the sort of useless depravity that he preferred to shy away from. That wasn't to say that he didn't partake in his own masochistic hobbies, things beaten and broken to see what happened to the pieces left over. But those of usefulness were a commodity, one realized in the recession of strength through the universe, marred in lofty notions of discipline and faulty philosophy. The Jedi considered themselves controlled, but it was their emotions that controlled them. Like the iron bars of a cage, they were imprisoned within their own mental shells, disillusioned into taking their exalted paths and calling it something righteous. It wasn't righteous. It was weakness, it was the failure to explore the true depths that lied within the force. The failure to beat such mystical power into submission, leashing it setting it loose as one felt necessary. Logan, Gabriel felt, could understand this. Even with his stoic appeal and grandiose posture, he was an emotional man. And he had to knew of the strengths that could be formed from such passion, when harnessed properly. Otherwise, he wouldn't be seeking such teaching from the one people knew as Reverance.

Gabriel had already seen [member="Logan of Little Coruscant"] in action, there was no true need to prove himself. There wouldn't be trust just yet, but their rarely was between Lord and apprentice when it came to Sith. One to wield the power, one to crave it. The dynamics between a leader of the One Sith training a leader of the Red Ravens was something to consider, though it could most assuredly lend positive results. It was something that begged consideration. Such were the Sith Lords thoughts as he lifted his glass, blowing smoke into the tumbler. As it twirled about, he placed the glass down upon lacquered wood and fixed his palm atop the opening. The smoke became it's own spinning nebulous planet atop a sea of rose brown. "You were faced with your own demise. Instead of accepting those terms, you took control of your fate. An action worthy of admiration..." He squinted his crimson eye beneath the veiled hood. The flicker of purple and green lights, flashing in alternating currents throughout the room, revealed his face in strobes as he stared down upon the glass. "The universe is a murky place. Complex and disconcerting. But the force, it has the power to make things clear." His force presence reached in to the glass, funneling the smoke into a spinning cylinder. "You know very little about me." Which is good, Gabriel thought, as a frog is far more apt to cook when placed in cold water first. "But what you do know is that I hold power in the palm of my hand. And what I know is that if you are to become my apprentice...you will owe me far more than your life."
 
The Gen'Dai had been standing behind these big bads of the Red Ravens. Whatever their setting was on shooting things was, it appeared to be broken. Who needed diplomacy when you had a grenade launcher in one hand, a babe in the other, and enough ammo to take on the galaxy? Internally, Xalus was lax about his own knowledge on galactic politics and wanted no part of their philosophical babble. Their laws were nothing and only life and death were law in this universe.

Little Orange was onto something now. Not only had she just become integrated into the command structure, but she would require protection every hour of every day. That's pretty much what Xalus did for the Red Ravens. When they needed someone who could provide distractions via jumping into traffic, someone to swallow their grenades, and someone to cuddle with, Xalus was always there. Silent and watchful was his nature and loud and brash was that of the Ravens. Someone had to look out for 'em, even more so in the case of this fine specimen.

"I accept."

His voice came out guttural, like a wolf attempting to learn Galactic Basic.

[member="Chiasa Kritivaas"], [member="Cryax Bane"]
 
[media]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=93ByMEx50Zc[/media]

The whiskers on his chin wiggled around slightly, his long scarred fingers itching at his chin slightly. More than my life, the Sith Lord had said. He chuckled softly to himself before speaking aloud. "More than my life..." he repeated aloud, letting the end of the sentence hang in the air for a moment. He though back on the events of his life and what his life had been reduced to. What could [member="Reverance"] possibly mean? The Lord of Pain sat in front of him, ironically enough, hopefully about to become his master and guide him, at least to some degree. Pain. That was what this all boiled down to. That's all it could be. But pain wasn't an unknown emotion to Logan. Neither was fear, anger or hatred. He had been beaten, shot, stabbed, sliced, tortured and nearly died on more than one occasion, but he doubted anything could prepare him for the pain that Gabriel would be able to inflict upon him as part of his training. It was a huge price to pay but he had nothing to lose. By sacrificing himself to the Sith Lord, he would ultimately save himself. It was with a soft, but determined voice that he spoke again. "Pain..." he said before speaking up. "I will give you my life and then some." He paused for a moment to take a long sip from the glass in front of him, looking down and swirling the golden brown liquid around the bottom of the glass before putting it to his lips.


It was one hell of a risk, talking so directly to the Sith Lord like this. But he was a man devoid of all sense of feeling, only left with the raw emotions of a man who had been to hell and back for no reason at all other than to make something of himself. He had done what he had for no man other than himself. Those who stood in his way had died, for he was an unstoppable force. But in the very so cliche way of saying it, what would happen when that force met with something greater. For Gabriel was more than an unmovable object. He was pain and suffering. Unmovable, perhaps, but unstoppable as well. This thought brushed Logan's mind, casting doubt on the situation for a moment. Perhaps he had met his match, unable to match the relentlessness mentality and the lightning quick and unforgiving physicality of the man across from him. But he would push himself until his body collapsed upon itself, unable to go any further. "Yes. Yes, I will give what you ask of me."
 
With a subtle tilt of the head, he gave some semblance of a smile and released his hand from the cup. The smoke drifted upwards and he took another puff from the cigar. Pain, it was the ultimate teacher, and by far the most cruel. The lessons were far more difficult than any other subject. Only with pain did the examination precede the lesson. An infliction of injury gave way to weakness, skin pulled back to show what hurt, to reveal what must be guarded and where the callouses would reside. But just as pain subsided, so did the subject of this conversation. A pact had been struck, one that would be far more difficult to break than any iron or spaceship hull. Unless Logan disappointed the Sith Lord to an unnecessary extent, and then it would be swiftly cut loose, mortal coil following after. Finishing off the rest of his whiskey, the Sith Lord scooted out from his seat and ashed the cigar.

"It pleases me to hear you say so..." He surveyed the room, his sanguine eye lifting to the lights of the ceiling. A vibrant display of cold tones, dancing against one another in alternating currents. Club lush, he read the words across the top of a simulated dancer terrace. Chuckling, he spoke into the space in front of him. "You're people are a colorful one. We'll talk soon, Logan." With that, he departed the scene to which he stood out like a sore thumb. This was an environment in which he didn't belong, too much comfort and too much pleasure and too much...fun. Not necessarily fun, just things from which others derived fun. He was a different caliber, a more specific predilection enticed him that dwelt deep in the recesses of the psyche. Hidden away by what society consider normal and proper. He didn't much care for it, the modern dancing and gyrating and spinning and twirling. He preferred a much more archaic waltz.

[member="Logan of Little Coruscant"]
 
With a brisk nod he acknowledged the Sith Lord. He had already gotten the jist that it was not what was said, but what was implied. And the implication that @Reverances voice carried were numerous, far fetched, sadistic and the worst, or perhaps the best part, was that they were all reachable. He realized that as he affirmed that he would give Reverance what he wanted, that he wasn't giving some thug a promise that could be easily taken back, but he was swearing his life over to the One Sith, regardless of where his heart lead him or his ties laid. He gave a raise of his eyebrows, pursing his whiskey coated lips slightly. "You're telling me..." he replied to the Siths comment on "his people".

"I await hearing from you with bated breath." were the words that escaped his mouth as the Sith rose from the table and made to leave. As soon as he turned his back he raised the glass to his lips and drained the rest o fit, letting it burn his throat in the process. He sighed softly as the liquid entered his stomach, the sheer quantity almost instantly giving him a warm, fuzzy feeling that slowly began to spread across his body. He looked around the room and saw [member="Cryax Bane"] sitting at his table, talking with other somewhat important members of the Ravens.
 
[SIZE=9pt]Upon figuring the cards to be that of the tarot kind, Jennifer raised an eyebrow in curiosity, a grin broadening upon her face as she gave an indifferent, cool shrug and a short non-caring in manner hand wave, the broad smile seen as if plastered upon her face. "Sure, why not. Go ahead." Jennifer said in the same nonchalant manner as she had displayed before, straightening herself a bit in the soft leather cushion that creaked under her otherwise light weight. She lifted her elbows from the table soon after, taking a short drag from the cigarette in her right hand, the breathing orange embers at its tip almost invisible in the azure and magenta shining club. They were somewhat secluded however in this corner of it all, the music just a hint lower in volume than everywhere else and the air just a slight more breathable. It was partly ruined though as Jennifer turned her face away from the booth, lightly pursing her lips for a second as a short stream of cyan smoke was jettisoned in a nice well rounded cloud out of her mouth. She seemed to inspect it for just a moment as it still hung in the air before slowly dissolving, mixing with the already clouded air that hung as a mist throughout Club Lush.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=9pt]“Hey, is it okay I order something to drink?” She asked, her face now turned back towards Daxton, her large kind still seen on her face. Once again her manners didn’t seem to hold up entirely, her hand was already tapping over the dimly lit holomenu installed in the table, two drinks ordered with ease even before she had finished talking entirely. “So, how are you going to predict my future?”[/SIZE]



[member="Daxton Bane"]​
 

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