Red Ravens Dominion of Syvris

[Erud'ryz'ladre]

[member="Cryax Bane"] @Kenna Rain [member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]

Erud'ryz'ladre stood behind her new client, not a peep coming out of her mouth as he did his business, hacking into something by the sounds of it. Her lip curled almost inperceptively as her red eyes took the cantina. In her opinion, this place was seedy at best, and filled to the brim with opportunities for trouble.

Something which the Chiss woman suspected her client dealt with -- or in -- daily.

Erud'ryz'ladre had been finishing up a job on some Mid Rim planet when, out of the blue, she was given the chance to protect the president of the Red Ravens. Initially, the Chiss was going to refuse; throughout her travels, she'd developed an immense dislike for criminals, and was going to refuse....but she needed the money. A couple jobs ago had seen Dryzl's paycheck be used for medical bills, and since then the woman had been trying to keep her head above water. So, she accepted the offer with a great big grain of salt.

As Mr. Bane gave a cry of victory, Erud'ryz'ladre raised an eyebrow. It seems he has successfully retrieved what he wanted. Perhaps we will soon be leaving this abysmal pit.

With that thought, her eyes flicked over to her co-worker. At least I have backup....I hope.

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Gentlemen's Club

The Askajian waited a moment more, and when Deborah didn't ask for anything else, moved away. Suddenly a particularly raucous group broke out into laughter, a brunette woman exclaiming.

"Torm! You old dog! You should have told us it was your birthday!"

A weather-beaten middle-aged man, presumably Torm, responded with a grin and a wiggle of his eyebrows

"Well now Saalia, I reckon since you didn't bring me nothin you'll just have to give the birthday boy a kiss! It's tradition."

"Ayuh, a tradition you just made up y'star-chaser."

"It is only his birthday once a year Ren."

Chided Saalia, a light blush rising to her cheeks.

"Ayuh, and next it'll be his nameday and then it'll be his walkingday and before you know it every day's a day and he's got more'n just your kisses."

"Ren!"

Torm in the meantime was bent almost double from laughing, obviously he was not offended by his companions teasing.

[member="Deborah Waller"]

-----

"I'll never tell you you can't."

Swore Stanley, hoping the cold sweat he'd broken out into wasn't too obvious. It was nothing. He just had to play it cool. Rein it back in ol' boy. He was important. She knew that. There was no reason to be so keyed up. None at all.

Clutching the tie in his sweaty palms like it was the Holy Grail, two spots of colour rose high in his cheeks and his breathing came hot and heavy, when she flashed her little lacy panties at him, pink!, he could feel his heart clenching. He was in love. He loved this sweet little thing. To hell with Marjie. She never appreciated him anyway.

"I don't like it, I love it. I wanna see everything baby girl."

He breathed, trying and failing to keep his voice calm and steady.

[member="Patricia Susan Garter"]

 

[Blair]

Overhearing the group talking among themselves speaking about whoever's birthday made Deborah roll her eyes. They talked like the more high society types, the ones Deborah wasn't too fond of. Growing up she'd lived on the streets and dealt with the real hard grit of earning a days pay and dealing with the hardships of needing to get by with what you had. These people, on the other hand, were the kind who were raised with five different meals a day while having private drivers and the like. Again, she was basing this all on looks. For all she knew they were just dressed up for the night and had put on the most expensive clothing they had. Either way it reminded her of the harder days. The days she preferred to forget.

After taking a small sip of her drink she used the comm on the chair and said "Hey! Can I get some service here? Send me over...I don't know. Someone to help take my mind off things."

She sat back and sighed, realizing she was letting these things get to her. Another sip as she looked towards the dancing stage where the men were getting hot and bothered by the lovely ladies performing. Seeing the one old man being serviced by some young schoolgirl made Deborah huff a smirk. Men always liked the costumes. However, the more she looked at the girl the more she began to think she knew her from somewhere. It was like an itch on the back of her mind she couldn't quite get.

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"] [member="Patricia Susan Garter"]

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Rancors Den

The more Cryax searched, the less it seemed that the Rancor had a type. It seemed like he liked anyone who liked him. He routinely traded dirty messages with anyone male or female, as long as their first message to him was complimentary enough. In fact, it seemed as if he'd had a bried fling with a Gammorean who'd sent him several pages of worshipful poetry. If there was any pattern it was this, whenever the Rancor reached out to someone first, they were always female and.. Well endowed. Top heavy if you like.

"Hey, hey buddy! Lookit dis! You like dis?"

A Morganian male, clearly well and truly drunk, pulled his shirt up revealing his stark white stomach and struck a few poses

"Oooo, I'm so pretty."

His companions, the same group who's snickered at the holo of the Rancor earlier, doubled over laughing.

"Oh Yurist, show us dem nips! Look at dat sexah bellybutton! Oh yeah, you get me so hot you pointy-eared bastard!"

Roared one of them, a green skinned, hulking Tof.

[member="Cryax Bane"] [member="Erud'ryz'ladre"] [member="Kenna Raine"]

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Shadowport

"Schutta! Painted Woman! Your sins will follow you from this world to the next! Repent!"

The figure whirled, eyes wide, spittle flying. Unfortunately spice-addicts and religious fanatics often looked very similar, and one often led to the other. Where desperation reigned, people would turn to any possible saviour. The rest of the fanatics turned, shuffling closer to each other. Echoing the cry of the first.

"Repent!"

"The vile, filthy acts you commit now will brand you for all eternity!"

"Repent!"

"Rise your eyes to the heavens and know the end is near!"

"The end is near, repent!"

"You are unworthy, you will be found wanting!"

"Unworthy, repent!"

The merchants and other individuals nearby either looked uncomfortable, angry or annoyed.

"Shadup! Y'crazies!"

Yelled one, muscled and tattooed enough that he clearly had nothing to fear from the uniformly malnourished looking fanatics.

"REPENT!"

[member="Dakita Calfur"]

----------

Some of the vagrants melted away as soon as it became clear that Jathin was approaching, these were the ones who's sense of danger was keenly developed and who still valued their hides. Others though, either did not want to abandon their makeshift homes in case any other enterprising individuals took over or stole bits while they were gone, hoped to do business, no longer cared, or were just plain stupid.

A few huddled deeper into their rags, eyeing him distrustfully. A few however, dashed forward, the quickest was a skinny Nimbanese who grabbed the chit, rolling out of the way of his fellow competitors and flashing a grin at Jathin. His pink skin was dirty, much like his shirt, his pants had ripped knees and his boots were almost worn to the point of uselessness.

"News Boss? Lot's of news, what you interested in? Pinkports Matron and the President of the Ladies Club are still feuding. Spice deal going down tonight, big'un. New shipment of girls at the Nexu's Kitten in Pinkport. Someone at the 'port be pretty desperate to unload a cargo.. Guess he stole something he shouldn'tve. I heard it's makin' him crazy. Probably figures he'll get found soon. Must be bad if he ain't run far enough when he'd in a Shadowport."

The Nimbanel looked hopeful

"Maybe you be needin' a guide Boss? Maotr know where everything is Boss, knows everyone too."

[member="Jathin Fallin"]

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Pinkport

Keira was garnering some attention, though not as much as she might have been. The inhabitants of Syvris didn't usually see folks with lightsabers. Too corrupt and hidden to be bothered by Jedi, too lacking in conventional resources to be of interest to the Sith. Since almost everyone was either friends with or had a smuggler in the family, and smugglers tended to be very well travelled, they did at least for the most part recognize the lightsaber for what it was. On the flipside, because they were a haven for smugglers, drifter and various other shady vagrant types, they saw almost everything else the Galaxy had to offer. This was no backwater swamp planet where any outsider was a rarity and going to get stared at by every single inhabitant. Most of the folks here had places to go and things to do. Sometimes the reverse was also true. This was the Pinkport after all.

There were a few however, who existed on the fringes, and had to make their living a little more aggressively rather than just waiting for credits to come to them.

"You look so lonely all by yourself. What is someone so beautiful doing all alone?"

A low, voice like leather and smoke slipped through the air as a male Zeltron approached her. He had rich red skin and lustrous hand-length curly purple hair, matched by a well trimmed goatee. He was prominently showing off his assets in a pair of tight leather pants and a half unbuttoned white shirt. The fancy pirate look was fairly cliché, but he did it well. He was also pumping out the pheromones on overdrive.

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Keira Priest]

Her hazel green gaze cut instantly to the Zeltron as soon as he spoke, his intentions obvious to her just from the way he was dressed and the attempt at a seductive tone. There was little doubt in her mind that he was armed, but with the way he was dressed being creative in the concealment of his weapons was a necessary undertaking. This was one she would want to be careful with, if just because of the air of instability he radiated. People like this were used to getting what they wanted, so it would be unwise to deny him outright. It would require a bit of a different strategy to handle him, doubly so if she was to avoid violence.

Unfortunately for him it wasn’t men that interested her on the romantic plane, so even if they had met under different terms, Keira wouldn’t have been hard-pressed to welcome his advances. The pheromones he emanated clouded her reasoning more than a small amount, and she blinked away the haze threatening to overtake her, heightening her Force senses to further help ward them off. This wasn’t her first time experiencing the will of another trying to overtake her own, and it seemed that it was far from the last. She didn’t respond to him right off, waiting until he’d approached before doing so.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” The inquiry was accompanied by a half-smile on her part, and she let her hands fall to her sides in a relaxed manner, keeping her demeanor open. “You never know what they might be hiding, after all.” She didn’t push off of the wall just yet, watching him as he moved.

Now she straightened, taking a few steps towards him. “And I’m not quite what I seem to be.”

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Dak jumped back a few paces when the crazies started shouting at her and almost tripped on the street trash behind her.

"I'll show you unworthy you ugly geezers!" Dak shouted back. People on this rock were so freakin' uptight. The muscled and tattooed man caught her eye though. Now that's who I'm looking for, she thought. But as she started to approach him she thought she saw a spice den with an alleyway nearby. An older man was talking to more vagrants with the confidence of a crime lord - a Raven crime lord, she thought.
She didn't want to interrupt whatever exchange he was having with what could be an informant so she slowly made her way up the street so that she was eventually in his line of sight. Was there a Raven signal? They needed to be wearin' red jackets or something. Anyway, she tried to catch his eye and gave him a chin nod. It looked like he was getting some information so she figured she would stick with the Raven. At least he wasn't getting spit and shouted at.

[member="Jathin Fallin"]

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

Cryax studied the data he unearthed about The Rancor. He certainly got around on the Holonet. And who knew that Gamoreans could write in such flowery language? Cryax was engrossed in a few lines of poetry when the table next to him erupted in hooting and hollering. He turned and saw a group of drunken idiots mocking him. Stupid fools. Perhaps they were mathematically-challenged because they couldn't seem to count the number of Magnaguards that the Chiss had surrounding him. He turned to [member="Erud'ryz'ladre"] his new Chiss bodyguard, and leaned in to whisper in a low voice, "Looks like we have a few jokers in our midst who don't know their place around a crime boss. Go on over to their table and tell them to get lost."

Then he turned back to his Datapad and holding it out, struck his best sultry pose, and took a selfie. He attached it to a text message and typed:

Receiving: Text message from XXChissDollXX
To: The Rancor
//Message incoming://

Wzzp big boi,
i liek UR pic.
im near UR bar,
The Rancor's Den
wana meet up bb?"

//End Message//

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]

 

[Erud'ryz'ladre]

[member="Cryax Bane"] [member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]

Dryzl had noticed the drunkards next to them, keeping an eye on the fellows but otherwise ignoring them. Their behaviour, though, brought to mind a turn of phrase which the Chiss had encountered in the past. Stupid is as stupid does, she thought, watching the men.

At Mr. Bane's whispered request, she nodded sharply. "Yes, sir. I will handle it immediately."

Turning smoothly, her face wearing that renowned Chiss coldness, the woman walked over to the men, hands clasped behind her back. "Good evening, gentlemen. I would highly advise you to please terminate your current activities, else each one of you will undergo surgery, effective immediately."

Erud'ryz'ladre had very few childish hopes. In fact, a Gammorean could count them all on one of its fat hands, providing it could even count.

But one of her hopes was that, one day, she would encounter a potential threat to a client who would back away in a quiet manner after her polite confrontation. It hadn't happened yet, and it didn't seem like it would happen today, but hey, stranger things have happened.

 

[Miss Blonde]

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]

Patricia almost forgot what she was doing at the moment, she sometimes got carried away when dancing. It reminded her of simple days when she was a young adult growing up on Zeltros, in her late teens partying and dancing the night away. Life was so much more simple back then, she didn't miss it though. She had a beautiful daughter and she was her world. And it was her job to make the world a safer place for Erika. So that was why she was on this stage shaking her stuff for dollar bills, that and the sheer enjoyment of it all.

She let out a soft moan that would only be heard by the business man in front of her, she had him right where she wanted him. The woman writhed in rhythmic thrusts and grinds making sure to capture the man's full attention. Undoing the top button she showed her slender neck and collar bone, undoing another the buttons almost popped off from how tight the little white uniform shirt was. Another two buttons went and the pale supple skin from upper chest radiated in the club lighting.

Moving forward slowly she pushed off the stage and mounted the man to sit in his lap so her legs stretched over his and her arms rested on his shoulders. She writhed a little and moved towards his ear to whisper.

"You want to touch?"

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

Gentlemen's Club

The screen in the chair popped up some quick queries to establish Deborahs ideal companion.

Please tap

[Male]
[Female]
or
[Other]

Please enter a primary interest

../

[member="Deborah Waller"]
--------

"D-Do I wanna-?"

This was it. It didn't even matter that there were others in the room Stanley, he was hardly aware of them. He slowly raised one shaking hand, he was feeling lightheaded, a curious sense of pressure was mounting within him..

[member="Patricia Susan Garter"]
--------

A Zeltros girl approached the three well-off smugglers

"Sir! We understand it's your birthday, though the forms you filled out say otherwise..."

"Can you blame a man knockin' a few years off, fudgin' the date a wee bit?"

"So vain Torm!"

"Naughty boy.. Luckily we've taken care of it!"

"I'll be a naughty boy for you or Saalia any day of the year."

"Ayuh, I reckon you would."

A contingent of staff, varied species, but all attractive came in bearing a giant birthday cake and singing.

"Happy Birthday deeeeear Tooorm, happy birthday to you."

The cake burst open, a result of carefully placed mini-charges.

"You're such an ass, I'm surprised no one's shot you pew-pew."

Finished the rather extravagant old woman who rose from the cake, rather than the stripper one might have been expecting.

It was at this point that Stanley B. Stedleman succumbed to the massive heart attach who's warning signs he'd put down to perfectly matural reactions to the young, gorgeous woman on his lap, gurgled, grabbed jis chest, jerked like a hooked fish a few times, and expired.

"Well. I expected a reaction but that was rather dramatic. Ah well, never did like that one. Cheap shoes."

The woman commented, lighting a smoke and taking a long drag.

"Now someone lift me out of this, I'm getting fat just standing here."

[member="Patricia Susan Garter"] [member="Deborah Waller"]

 

[Blair]

When the options appeared on the pad Deborah needed a minute to look for herself. Men? Maybe. Some nice big strong hunk who was paid to look and think he was all that, or maybe even a skinny one who couldn't barley hold himself together. Girl? Maybe. From what she'd seen there were a lot of fine ladies of different species about. Other? Thinking on it in her mind Deborah wasn't sure she wanted to risk finding out what sort of options that meant. She even shook it off in her head before finally tapping for a man to come to her.

During the time she waited she heard the sudden singing of the man's birthday. She looked over, seeing it was the people she'd overheard before, and only shrugged it off. It wasn't until the sudden explosion and following heart attack by the older man that Deborah stood, suprised by what she'd seen. Looking at the older woman near the cake Deborah rasied an eyebrow. She was starting to think she planned on it, hard t say though. Still it all didn't sit right.

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"] [member="Patricia Susan Garter"]

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Rancors Den

Receiving: Text message from The Rancor
To: XXChissDollXX
//Message incoming://

Rollin tht wai now
Wut u liek best?
Wit my boys but
Mebbe got a spare seat
Doll lieks 2 plai?

//End Message//

From the speed of his response it was a safe bet that Alejandro was one of those folks who always had either his personal comm unit or a datapad with him. Of course, the Chiss had likely gathered that from how prolific his presence was on the holonet, and how messages from him seemed like they were sent at any time, day or night.

---

"Y'gonna, y'gonna make me pretty? Gonna make me hunky like dat holonet guy or y'gonna make me a waifish lil'imp like your man and Yurist? I been going t'the gym, but I reckon I got one'a them thyroid-y condishens."

The Tof shook his substantial belly between two ham sized hands.

"He hasta shop inna big boy shops, save 'im money y'would."

Agreed the Morganian with a cheerfulness rarely seen without being under some sort of influence.

"Mebbe pretty blue girlies be wantin' t'sit wit' me then!"

"Y'c'n have ugly little turquoise or aqua bebbies!"

"Wut?"

"Blue-greeny ones."

"Oh."

[member="Cryax Bane"] [member="Erud'ryz'ladre"] [member="Kenna Raine"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

Cryax felt a small flush pride when his duckface selfie had attracted the interest of The Rancor so quickly. His glowing red eyes scanned the text message and then he looked around for the name of the cantina where he and his bodyguards were. It was fittingly called "Flyboys." He shook his head and typed a return message to The Rancor.

Receiving: Text message from XXChissDollXX
To: The Rancor
//Message incoming://

Chiss lieks 2 plai
Itz a D8 bb
pick mu @ spaceport
bar called Flyboys
cant W8
xoxo L8r bb

//End Message//

Once that nonsense was done, Cryax turned towards his Chiss bodyguard who had gone over to intimidate the motley crew nearby. The hecklers in the cantina were too stupid to be cowed, and Cryax was losing his patience. He wanted to shoot them in their ugly faces, but couldn't risk attracting the attention of the port authority and losing out on his chance to make some deals with The Rancor. Still his rage got the best of him and he arose from his seat, taking a stand next to Dryzl and a few droid security guards, his red eyes flashing with irritation.

"I don't think you heard the lady correctly," he hissed at the drunken aliens. "Go kark off somewhere else, laserbrains. We're trying to do business over here."

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"] [member="Erud'ryz'ladre"]

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Rancors Den

Receiving: Text message from The Rancor
To: XXChissDollXX
//Message incoming://

OMW

//End Message//


"Wass, was yer problem buddy? Issa bar'n we wuz here furst."

The Tof crossed his substantial arms.

"Yeah, an yer the one what's lookin at dirty pics inna public place, that in't 'propriate."

"Whatcha think was gonna happen? An now, an now, an now yer threatenin' us like y'own th'place just cause you got some droids. Y'don't even know me!"

"And we ain't even judgin' yer lifestyle, an I think dats real polite of us all things considered."

"Yer a jerk. Yer ladies a jerk. Yer droids are jerks. And we don't gotta lissen t'you."

"Dunno who you think you are. Y'ain't nobody here."

The Morganian puctuated this by spitting on the floor and turning his nose up at the Ravens.

[member="Cryax Bane"] [member="Erud'ryz'ladre"] [member="Kenna Raine"]

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Pinkport

The Zeltron kept his hands loose and at his sides as she approached him, and let out a low throaty laugh after she spoke.

"This is Syvris. No one is quite what they seems to be, and everyone is hiding something."

He seemed to take her approach as an invitation. Moving closer, all the better to blast her with pheromones one hand came to rest lightly on her hip, the other went to find her hand as he purred into her ear.

"But come, get to know me and then we shall no longer be strangers and you will not be lonely."

[member="Keira Ticon"]

 

[Red Ravens Storyteller]

The Gentlemen's Club

We see you've chosen .. [Male] ..
We congratulate your choice and look forward to serving you!
Please enter one main interest so you may be better matched to your companion
...//

The terminal blinked as it waited for Deborah to enter an interest. What did that mean? Politics? Spice? Favourite shockboxer? Physical? Was physical an option?

Two shirtless Zeltron men were lifting the old lady out of the cake, with great care, as if their lives depended on getting her out without her touching the icing. It was quite possible they did. As her feet touched the ground she waved them off.

"Do get rid of the body before he starts to stink anymore than he already does."

The immediately moved to obey. Meanwhile the attention of all the regular patrons had switched to the old lady, she was obviously someone of importance.

"Zenobia, beautiful as always, couldn't ask for a better birthday present!"

This earned the birthday boy a sharp look as she used her cigarette to ward off an attempted kiss on the cheek.

"Torm, I will never understand how Ren's the one who transports fertilizer and yet your never fail to be completely and utterly full of poodoo. I see you chasing the little girls and poor Saalia's been warding you off for years. Don't think you can sweet talk me. My naivety dried up with my skin, and some other parts of my anatomy decades ago."

This seemed to leave Torm completely flabbergasted and unsure of how to respond.

"Don't stand there flapping your mouth like a fish boy. Either close it or put some cake in it."

Saalia was giggling nervously, and Ren looked pleased in his stolid farm-boy in fancy clothes sort of way. Torm obediently picked up a piece of cake, though he did it with his hand.

The old woman, Zenobia, rolled her eyes.

"Barbarians. I'll go sit over there before you disgrace yourself further. Next thing you know you'll be swallowing your own tongue in a fit of stupidity, though Gods only know that'd be a better use for it than you usually put it to."

[member="Deborah Waller"] [member="Patricia Susan Garter"]

 

[Blair]

Deborah kept her eyes on this Zenobia woman, as she found out her name from the talking. Clealry she must've been the one in charge, the mistress of this place who had some sort of power over the partons by the looks of it. And why not? She gave them pleasure and they would give her anything in exchange. A fair business the more Deborah thought about it. As they all talked she tried to figure a way to get close enough to talk with her, if she was even interested in speaking. Sure there were zeltrons around her but they weren't anything she couldn't handle. But, then again, it would look back to go hitting the security of this place; as least the living kind.

Deborah sat back down and realized the ping that went off, asking for an interest. Even she was a little confused about what that had fully meant. She shrugged and typed in "Fit", meaning, at least to her, she wanted a well-built man and not something over husky or skinny like a twig. She hoped they'd get the idea.

As she waited, still keeping her eye on Zenobia, however, she started to hatch an idea in her head. Looking towards where [member="Patricia Susan Garter"] was still dancing she licked her lips, trying to think of a way to get her over to her to talk. She knew she was a Raven member and, being that they might've had the same goals for being here, might have a chance if they knew what the other was doing.

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]

 

[Cryax Bane]

"Ebeucot," muttered Cryax once the defiant hooligans were done mouthing off to him, otherwise known as signing their own death certificates. First, the Chiss crime boss turned his head towards his bodyguards. Then, he turned his head the other way towards his droids. Finally he looked back at the men smiled. "Kill them," he commanded. As the droids and henchmen opened fire in the cantina, Cryax grabbed his blaster and shot out the security Holo cameras. Maybe that would buy them a couple of minutes before the spaceport authority arrived.

As the bodies slumped to the ground, Cryax heard his Datapad pinging. He took a second to check his messages while the bodies smoked. The Rancor was on his way apparently. Good, good. He put his Datapad away and shot his glowing red eyes towards his Chiss bodyguard. "[member="Erud'ryz'ladre"], Take the droids and meet me at the Rancor's Den. This part I have to do alone."

Then he hauled jets towards the exit, where he leaned up against the wall in some semblance of a fetching pose and waited for the Rancor to show.

[member="Red Ravens Storyteller"]