Not a Bar Thread

[Gorba the Hutt]

The Barter Island spa and resort boasted some of the finest vacation real estate in the Outer Rim. Admittedly, not a very hard task, although the service here was quite on par with the colonies. Besides, the steam room was absolutely divine.

Let's go there now.

Two beings sat across from each other, ringed by obfuscating steam. Both species of aquatic nature and both clearly enjoying the outrageous humidity. That, however, was where likenesses diverged. For while both had tentacles, one was Nautolan and the other was unmistakably non-humanoid. An Iyra, which, though not an uncommon sight in the galaxy at large, seldom ventured into the more remote and less civilized sectors of the galaxy. They did have a reputation to uphold, after all. Not like those silly quadrupeds.

In fact, the Iyra, Bal'gul by name, was trying quite hard to maintain that reputation of superiority over the less-limbed species. Between them sat a table and upon that table was a board of filled with black and red chips. An ancient game, long sacred in many traditions. Already casualties had piled up on either side, but Bal'gul knew his larger, though not less replete, cranial cavity would grant him inevitable victory over his large-eyed adversary.

Eight cabalistic green eyes blinked in unison atop their stalks.

"Aaare you going to beegin?" said he, in a muffled, damp voice that oft recalled memories of an eclectic grandfather and hints of moldy drywall. "Diiid I nooot pay for a masseeuuuus?"

A resort employee fumbled with his hand towel behind Bal'gul, eying the amorphous blob with tentacles sprouting at one end and eye stalks at the other.

"Yes sir, I uh... do you need any lotion before...?"

The only reply was a wet chuckle.

"Right."

Tentatively, he approached and began to awkwardly massage the back - was it the back? - of the Iyra.

"Soo, Ooodium. I see your skill extenddds to the ancient aaart of checkers. Yet another reason to iiinvitee you here, aside from collecting your vast knowledge of Sith Mythooology."

[member="Darth Odium"] | [member="Auswyn Nothrael"]

 

[Darth Odium]

[member="Bal'gul"]

The steam beaded on his thick olive green skin as he sat with a brightly colored towel around his waist. His large eyes as black as the void itself took in the sight of the being across from him. His head tresses snaked across his shoulders as the resorts servants moved about attending to the needs of the customers.

A paid massage therapist stood behind him wringing his hands in worry as an inky black tattoo seemed to move on his shoulder. The smell of his fear was exciting a hunger that Odium was determined to keep at bay.

"No being can ever call himself educated" Odium rasped through newly attached vocal cords, "without knowledge of checkers."

He reached forward and moved a small black circular checker piece diagonally from one space away from the edge to an edge space. Tactics at work, friend. He looked at a large eye at the end of a stalk and back to the table. It was possible he could read the beings mind with some effort but the chance to experience the conversation with the being was not something he chose to enjoy...and study.

"What would you like to know of first?"

 

[Gorba the Hutt]

Another eight-eyed blink. There came what sounded like the wet smacking of lips in contemplation, though the source of the sound remained a mystery, for no mouth was visible. Unless, of course, Odium were to flip Bal'gul upside down. The results would likely be less than satisfactory.

"Is it true that you have seen the Font of Power? I aaatteeempted the journey to Beyooond Shadoows, but fooound my guide aaabsent... and my skill lacking."

He heaved a great, watery sigh, then one of eight tentacles wriggled forward and slid one of the chips across the board to counter [member="Darth Odium"]. Idly, the Iyra contemplated sucking the knowledge out of the pathetic quadruped attempting to give him a massage, but ultimately he decided against it. While the galaxy would likely be better off, Bal'gul did not anticipate any intellectual gain from the vindictive pursuit, nor did it seem very sporting. Give the fellow a chance to learn, a chance to grow. Then he would return at some distant point in time, if ever, and relieve the fellow of the burden of intellect.

 

[Darth Odium]

[member="Bal'gul"]

"The font of power" Odium rasped slowly, a sound that seemed better suited to a serpentine beast than a Nautolan, "I spent nearly six years beyond shadows and I still only understand a fraction of what it truly is."

Odium reached for the man behind him in the force and very slowly began to drain his life. This game of checkers was making him hungry.