Nar Shaddaa Nights ((Open RP))

Haarlee sat in the Luckless Echelon, one of the many cantinas and entertainment establishment dotted throughout Nar Shaddaa's myriad levels.  Once inside, things weren't too bad, as such things may be measured in the less than savory parts of the moon.  The place was in Nar Shaddaa's Red Sector, which was fine with Haarlee, as she didn't much care for the more popular and populated Corellian Sector.

She wore her twin blasters openly on her hips, the weapons swaying somewhat with her walk, accentuating the steps of her heavy boots as she moved to the main bar.  She didn't walk in an entirely seductive way, she'd leave that to the dancers and others here more deliberately relying on skin and sex for their trade, but she didn't exactly hide her gender in a more masculine or militaristic walk.  She was usually very casual about it, if not even cynical, genetics, augments, and her training having given her a quite pleasing form, which she did not often overtly use.

She noted a few eyes on her, some sizing her up for potential danger, some for other attempts, if not just fantasies.  She continued to stare straight at the bar, her pale eyes hidden behind the cybernetic eyeplate she often wore.  Actuators caused some whispers of whirring as her focus changed, but such would hardly be noticed by others.  Some of her hidden augmentations helped by processing the air in here, determining that some parts of pollutants and other poisons or intoxicants might not be in her best interest and filtering them out.  She made it to the bar, slipping onto a stool and giving her unreadable stare to the bartender.

"Whiskey," she said after a moment.

The 'tender pulled out a short, stout glass, dropping some meager ice shavings in it before pouring from a bottle of mid-range Corellian whiskey.  She wouldn't complain, for it seemed difficult to find non-Corellian whiskey, and she didn't feel like garnering the attention of requesting something obscure he'd probably not even have.  She brought the heady liquor to her lips, sampling it slowly, feeling the nice burn.  She turned, glancing about at the patrons, her ex-cop's senses un-dulled and quickly assessing the differences between those in here for the 'usual' illicit pursuits and those seeming ready to dig in deeper.  She noticed as a Nikto tensed up after the results of a hand of Pazaak with a scrawny Rodian.  She turned her focus back to the bartender who was actually wiping a somewhat clean looking cloth over the top of the bar.

"You might have a problem there," she murmured.

"What?" he asked, looking instantly defensive and incredulous.

She knew the cantina had some sort of security, so she decided to let it go.  She just gave him a light purse of her bottom lip along with a perk of her brow and raise of her shoulders.  He drilled her with his eyes in response, but when the ruckus broke out, his attention was quickly diverted.

She returned to her drink, figuring the small scuffle would be over soon and wouldn't affect her.

Tesha strode into the bar with a long, aggressive stride, the heels of her armoured boots striking the floor with a loud crack like a hammer.  Her long red sith style robe flowed around her, revealing in glimpses her bare thighs and the skimpy dancers bikini bottoms she wore.  She appeared unarmed, but to a knowing eye the drape of her robe indicated concealed weapons hidden on her person.  Many eyes followed her passage through the bar, the expressions showing envy, desire, or fear.  A few people still recalled the pools of blood that she had left in her wake on her last trip to Nar Shaddaa.

With her all red Chiss eyes it was impossible to know where she was looking and she did not turn her head at all as she made her way to the bar.  The barkeep moved to take her order.

"Absinthe, please"

While he poured the clear green liquid into a glass and slowly dissolved a sugar cube into it until it was milky and opaque she looked around, noting Harlee with a nod and taking in the collection of usual suspects loitering around the room, including the players at the pazaak table.  Her hand brushed along the edge of her robe and a discerning observer might conclude she now held something in her right hand while her left hand picked up her glass.  She took a sip and smiled, then another, apparently relaxing.  Tesha looked into the mirror behind the barman so she could watch the room behind her and took another sip of her drink.

Haarlee tangentially noticed the arrival of the Chiss, her pale eyes turning from behind the concealing cybernetic shield. She shifted a bit on her stool, bringing her glass up and eyeing the individual more openly. She was dressed in a rather curious manner, and it gave Haarlee to wonder what her function might be. She returned the nod, then fished a plastic box from within the hidden folds of her rather form-fitting clothes. She deftly removed a stim-cig, biting down on the end to cause the self-ignition to occur, the tip lighting up to a brilliant glow as she inhaled deeply, her chest rising, before relieving the pressure with a forceful, though smooth exhalation.

She glanced casually over her shoulder at the fight that had started at the gaming table, assuming it'd be over soon and not spill over to too much of the place. She then looked forward, her focus seeming to be on the back of the bar, though, in truth, she was merely lost in thought, thinking of how much her life had changed, how she now sat here in some seedy cantina on Nar Shaddaa, oiling the gears of her lamentation with this continued fuel of liquor, stim-cigs, and a few other things. She reached into the recesses of her outfit, pulling forth one of those things - a bar of chocolate, setting it atop the bar and opening the shiny paper-wrap to break free a small square, slipping it between her lush lips and chewing thoughtlessly. She swallowed, glancing back over to the Chiss as she raised her glass for another taste.

"Are you a regular here?" she asked, "I haven't seen you before."

Tesha watched the mirror so she could follow the fight at the pazaak table behind her, taking another small sip of her drink as she rolled a small sphere in the fingers of her other hand. Her hair and makeup were styled after noble fashions from the Republic, her robe was of the finest ziriid silk, embroidered with precious metallic threads, her legs were bare in a deliberately provocative display, yet her boots were heavily plated in a manner normally associated with assault troopers and an alert viewer might notice the pommel of a vibroknife tucked into the right boot.

She looked over at Haarlee again and nodded before speaking. Her accent was pure inner Empire.

“I travel a great deal, but when I visit Nar Shaddaa I do like to pop into this quaint little night spot. It hasn’t been discovered by the chic and fashionable yet so its charms are utterly unspoiled.”

She takes another sip of her green drink and smiles.

“But where are my manners? I am Tesha, a pleasure to meet you.”

As the fight continues, with more patrons joining it (You can't be sure if they are trying to stop it or just joining for the heck of it) a heavy leather boot steps into the cantina, the leg covered by a reinforced working pants and above the waist a body armor covered by a black trenchcoat. Over the shoulder of the woman there was an old and a bit rusted blaster rifle. Her eyes, her deep red eyes, scan the place while keeping that upsetting calm demeanor she rarely breaks, and that is seen as a common trait of her race. The chiss focus on the fight briefly and just shakes her head and then finds a familiar face on the bar, walking towards the human mercenary, and quietly sat at her side.


As she reach sits, she nods towards the other chiss and then politely greets the human "Hey there... not interrupting I hope" then turns towards the bartender and demands a corellian ale, raising her voice enough for the man to stop staring at the fight "You may want to call your goons now.... if you don't want to grow any further" she casually says as she turns towards the other women.

Haarlee nodded once, dipping her head in an obvious greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Tesha," she replied, "I'm Haarlee," she offered, then broke off another small square of chocolate before slipping it into her mouth, following it with a swig of her whiskey.

She also glanced into the mirror, noting the scuffle, then spotting the other Chiss.  Her lips took a subtle press, almost as though to curl into a grin, but they ended up just pursing ever so slightly.  She set the heavy glass down on the bartop, plucking up her stim-cig before turning a bit and offering a nod, "Heya, Slif, fancy running in to you here," she greeted, smirking a touch, then somewhat concealing it with the end of the cig, pulling in a deep drag.

She exhaled, the plume of laced smoke rolling thickly into the air, her eyes going to the ruckus, "Nah, that one will be over quick," she said, then shrugged lightly, "Though I guess they don't care too much.  Maybe they're confused about what makes good entertainment."

((Thus endeth this night))

((A new night begins))

Pelagie had heard whispers of this place in the halls of the Coil.  Certainly, talk of some seedy bar did not hold as much potential interest as the rumors regarding assassination attempts, missing members of the Triumvirate, or even the collection of lost relics of power, but to her, talk of a shadowy, decadent place of such ribald entertainment piqued her interest.  She had even found her open solicitations for further information to be less than fruitful, so she had relegated herself to some more subtlety, something of which most might think her incapable.  She eventually found enough of a lead to gather more information once on the urbanized moon.

She enjoyed Nar Shaddaa for many, many reasons, not the least of which was that she hailed from a family that owned its own moon.  She felt an odd affinity with the Hutts and their wanton pursuits of money and pleasure.  Though she understood the former, her own passion lay in the latter.

"But why would a Sith wish to know the address of such a place?" she heard thrown back in her face, and she could tell that people were worried, for why, indeed, would she wish to go to the Luckless Echelon unless it was to make someone there 'luckless'?  The idea of a less than darkly serious Sith who just wanted some fun seemed difficult for many.

The grin on her lush, painted lips was one of obvious joy as she strode into the rather expansive place, looking about at the careful choice of mainly darkly hued, subdued lights.  The ubiquitous display of illuminating color was no less here than other parts of neon-encased Nar Shaddaa, but the ambiance was deliberately darker.  She loved it.

She stopped at the bar, the tender moving to her, looking over her scantily-clad, generously curved form, her noticeably purple hair.  The creature may have even thought her orange eyes merely exotic along with her pale, creamy flesh and made no realization of her true power.  She did not yet acknowledge the person, her open, delighted eyes still looking about even as she slowly placed her hands down atop the bar, fingers very slightly curled so that only the tips of her painted nails touched the plastiform, faux wood surface.

"What'll ya have, doll?"

She turned her grin on the man, showing more teeth.  Why, he could not have bade of her better even if he were scripted by some cheap, noir holo-film tale.  That grin of hers slowly, slowly grew as she fixed her gaze on him, and after a moment, he did shirk a bit.  Just a bit, though, and she was very pleased by that.

"Did ya ... wish to speak to the manager ... about dancing .. or ... somethin'?"

She let forth a breathy, tittering giggle at this inquiry.  It seemed so many people mistook her merely by her style of clothing - something so easy to change and yet it seemed so easy to use to manipulate the perception of others.  This was a lesson she had quickly learned once off her family's moon, for there, such prejudice did not hold sway.

"Ambrostine," she said, and the bartender nodded, moving away to fetch the drink, one of her favorites; she'd wait a bit to ask for whatever gutter gunk passed for their strongest and most grotesque.

She turned, pushing back a bit against the bar, looking out at the place, eyeing the holographic and flesh and blood dancers, thoughts swirling through her devious mind.

Zirellax, while not one for bars on her own, had several reasons for walking through the place, datapad in hand. Her armored robe trailing a little as she moved slowly through folks, red eyes darting this way and that in her observations, letting them linger on the dancers for longer than she really should allow herself to. A place such as this would allow her quite the opportunity to potentially pick up some information or perhaps to view something interesting. 'Perhaps', she thought to herself, 'I should have shown up in something a little less...combat ready, but I do not trust anything here.'

Making her way to the bar, she glances at the purple haired woman, Pelagie, who was only one reason why she showed up to this place. She finds a stool to sit on, dismissing any offer of a drink from the bartender, viewing Pelagie once more sitting herself down, eyes half on her datapad and half on the crowd. She hoped for a mostly uneventful evening, but understood that was highly unlikely.

Lavender hues gazed into the decrepit Nightclub halls, feeling a warm camaraderie within the force. She wore a tight fitted black robe and cloak, which made her lightsaber concealed. While she took heavy footsteps in her high heeled boots, her dark brown mane was rolled up proper, exposing her high Tatooine cheek bones. She was a petite one, only 5’5, albeit she walked with a big girl’s pride. Light chocolate skin needed no blush, thus there was a wicked purple eye liner that covered Xhoza’s visual discernments. A small translator droid circulated around her comely visage, scanning and pacifying the pain and anger that the Mother of the Dune Sea often apprehended. This was Achill-34. The difference between most translator droids that beeped, and Achill-34 could do that to, annoyingly so; Achill-34 could also speak at least 200,000 languages in the galaxy and still learning.

“Master, you always intrigue me with your mighty elegance. And there is a strong possibility that after you heed my next words, you may electrocute me for my inept aphorism…” Achill-34 paused.

Xhoza frowned as if her next words would easily eradicate it. She held its life by mercy, this small android; a synthetic being that had no true understanding of adage. All it knew was information and that was all she had used it for. Cold hues gazed from the halls to the droid, seeing its little red lights trembling as if it had said something erroneous—as if it had some kind of feeling or fear of death. Maybe it did? Maybe Achill-34 had something real to say to her, something that she could consider proverbial or axiom, maybe it could thrill her mind and tantalize her emotions like her Master once did. For Xhoza had spoken to no organic since Ovia’Zaba’s assassination. Indeed it had been three months of pilgrimaging with Achill-34. The terrible fact that burned her the deepest, was not that Ovia'Zaba was assassinated; what ate her so, was the fact that the Council did not honor her to eliminate Ovia'Zaba for failing the Empire and allowing the snitch to live. In their haste they had undoubtedly stolen the Mothers opportunity for an apprentices glory.

“Speak.” Xhoza hissed.

“Where we are going is a night life facility for Coil students, members and recruits, it is known as the Luckless Echelon. There are many organics here, rumors of Bounty Hunters and assassins, gamblers and thieves, crooked individuals. We come from a civilized colony, Master. Civilized and proper.  Are you sure this is what you want? You must consider the cost. You must…” Achill-34 was cut off.

“I must what? I am Sith. These ones you claim as civilized murdered her. And I will return to them, each of them and they will feel the burn of my blade. But I need this, understand me? I need to feel alive again, android. You give me no hope. And here I thought you might understand. Instead you bore me with your intellect and cowardice. You no longer have any privileges to speak to me tonight, not unless I need you….” She seethed the last words through her teeth.

Achill-34 was paralyzed by her logic. It was smart to stay inaudible and forget it said anything.

Shorty after, Xhoza bypassed the halls and entered inside the Luckless Echelon. Achil-34 hovered nervously beside her, comical and made foolish. She smiled sweetly and nodded to those who looked at her, eventually finding her way to the bar and taking a seat near the purple haired woman and the dark skinned one with red hues, offering them both a nod and smile. Xhoza relaxed and when the tender came to her next, he smiled and flirted with his dreamy eyes, probably what he was paid to do. Before he could say anything, Xhoza answered for him.

“I’ll have a tall glass of Naiana.”

"Hello, Zir!" Pelagie greeted enthusiastically, offering the woman a smile and a gently-motioned finger wave with her free hand, her arm bent at the elbow, up close to her body.

She spared a casual glance toward Zir's seemingly ubiquitous datapad then moved her focus back to its swaying embrace of the greater environ here. She seemed rather focused on a small table in the shadowed distance, about which sat three various figures engaged in what appeared to be a game of chance. Her lips curled up a bit as she watched. She thought of joining them, but her mercurial attention turned to the appearance of the dusky-hued woman. She blinked, looking closer, her body bending in the woman's direction.

"Ooooo," she eventually commented, her orange eyes on the striking make-up worn by the other.

Zirellax displayed a small smile back at Pelagie, eyes following hers to the table far from them, having them linger there for a few moments before gazing back upon her, putting her datapad away, "Hello. You do seem to find the interesting places, don't you?" She looks around as she says this, letting herself take in the view of the establishment. She lets out a small sigh, realizing she had been ending up at places like these for often than she desired to be.

Like Pelagie, her attention was also drawn to the newly arrived woman, her usual neutral look showing on her features. She made no comment, opting to observe her silently, giving the occasional glance to the droid beside her. With the arrival of someone else that could possibly prove to be a distraction, she let out a sharp, low whistle. Her lizardbat, Crixel, came flying along the ceiling, appearing at the call and perched on her back. As he looks out at the crowd, Zirellax continued viewing both Pelagie and the unknown woman.

A tall glass of Naiana was delivered, it was thick like Cerean flesh liquefied, the scent was almost like sweet berries and marshmallow; then once the imported wine settled for a few seconds, it started to thin like some kind of exotic blue champagne. Xhoza took it down quick and delightfully asked for another. It had been over three years since her tan lips tasted alcohol; such was the life of a Doctor.

“Easy luv, Cereans didn’t craft this stuff for the appealing. Sure you wanta do this?” The tender said.

Xhoza smiled and wondered if he was a bartender or an alcohol abuse counselor. She was going to get into his head and make him pay for discouraging her moment. Then she was distracted by a pair of orange hues that might have been the first being to intrigue her; since boarding on this planet. She softened more at the girl’s youthful yet discerning gaze. Xhoza being not only sage, but Sith Lord, was also full of humility when it came to interacting with the mortal things of this galaxy. Using the force was much different, it never judged her but allowed her to be free in her mastery. It was a freedom that she judiciously used due her knack of acumen.

“Evening.” She said to the woman who was observing her features. “I am not much of a gambler so I rather enjoy a fine drink.” She grinned sweetly and looked back at the bartender seeing his cocky face, he was such a boy with his thoughtless charm.

The Chiss who was observant and silent, would learn that Xhoza was more of a motherly figure and did her best to make her feel welcomed.

“Oh, I am fascinated with lizardbats, they are smarter than some droids.” She chuckled and started to sip on her second drink.

Beeping was heard and the translator was hovering near the Mother of the Dune Sea sarcastically.

“I wholly doubt that.” Achill-34 mumbled under his truncated circuitry.

"Evening," Pelagie replied, her purple-painted lips curling up into a smile, her head tilting slightly left as she changed her demeanor from openly observant to more of buoyant socializing, "I enjoy drinks, very much, and games, and I so love the color purple," she added, the end of her informatory statement changing in tone at the end, a somewhat deeper cast, slower of cadence.

She then peered at the woman's drink, giving an exploratory sniff, even from this distance, though she hardly hoped to identify the beverage from this.

"What is that you're drinking?" she asked, bringing up her own glass for another taste of its contents.

After observing the woman for some time, Zirellax seemed to relax, though still a bit guarded. She chuckled lightly, stroking Crixel once before saying, "I do prefer working with animals over droids, I have found them to be more reliable," she pauses, both her and Crixel looking at the droid for a moment before they turn their heads in unison back to the woman, "Though, Crixel here isn't really a combat type."

For once, she kept a constant, very small smile upon her features, now looking at Pelagie as her pet looked back out towards the crowd, looking as if he was smiling too, sharing her expression.

Xhoza beamed widely at the female who curled her dark lips and expressed that her favorite color was purple. She then remembered that she was wearing that same color over her eye lids and there was a great blush that came from her light chocolate features. Thus before the Mother could answer with what she was consuming, her thoughts were quickly overachieved by her exasperating companion.  Achill-34 flickered in between the two women and bellowed out his lecture like he had been prepared to tell this story his entire existence—Xhoza now wished that she had put in a restraining bolt, but she was not so forbidding to torture it. Even though her eyes said different.

“Forgive me master, but it is called Naiana. The vineyard came from the ancient planet Cerea. By the time of the Yuuzhan Vong War, the Cereans had developed a unique Force tradition, known as the Ner Yan. This group used the Force to link their minds, although in a haphazard manner. Ka-Tu-Un was an adept of this tradition and was mistaken for a Jedi by the Yuuzhan Vong. Ka-Tu-Un was then sacrificed and the Yuuzhan Vong crushed this seed which had the color of Cerean blood. There are in fact two versions of this tale; some say it was a vineyard seed and others say it was the actual blood of Ka-Tu-Un that they drank, in honor of his sacrifice. Centuries later, the Cereans still make it into wine and drink it as a symbol for life, freedom and longevity. Once released from its carafe it will be as thick as blood but then when it exposes the air it will become like a traditional wine beverage.”

Xhoza shook her head with a devilish grin.

“Splendid exegesis, are you proud of yourself now?” Xhoza gently asked.

“I am sorry, master. You said don’t speak unless you need me. I figured I was the most qualified to answer this question of high difficulty.”

“Either way, to life, freedom and longevity.” Xhoza made a toast to the ladies.

Afterwards she smiled sweetly at Crixel and took a good sip.  

“And do pardon my little companion. Achill-34 I sometimes wonder if there is a little person inside his wires…I am Dr. Xhoza Varath. Lady Elegance or Mother of the Dune Sea, whichever is easier.”

Rhlorn stepped through the entrance and made a bee-line straight for a booth. He didn't bother with looking around as he really wasn't interested nor did he expect anyone he may know to be there either. He just wanted to get his business over and done with and was unsure why he was given the address for this place.

He sat down at the booth and pulled out a datapad where he attached a small holoprojector. He started to scroll through the pad as it displayed the information on the projector. Briefly stopping to drop his hood. He ran his fingers through his hair and carefully arrange the hair to almost hide his right eye. He stopped for a moment wondering when he first started doing this but shrugged his shoulders.

The data continued to scroll but he didn't look so much at it but through it as he thought of how the past week had gone.

Zirellax eyed the figure darting to a booth, but it didn't seem to really concern her. She dips her head towards Xhosa, Crixel mimicking the action, "Pleasure to meet you Doctor Xhosa. I don't have three titles, but my name is Zirellax. I am also her bodyguard...of sorts," she nods towards Pelagie, gazing at her for a moment before looking back.

Crixel turned his attention Achill-44, resettling himself on Zirellax's shoulder, content to just stare at the droid.

"I do not get such an...ominous feeling from you, interesting. It is something uncommon to see, but you are now the second person to make me feel as such," she says, intending to compliment but realizing it may not come off as such.

"Hello, Achill-34!" Pelagie greeted enthusiastically, then she looked back at the woman, "Oooo, a Doctor and elegant and Mother of the Dune Sea? Wow," then she pondered, forehead furrowing a bit, "Which sea?"

Zirellax looked at Pel, blinking twice, Crixel also turning to look at her and blinking twice, "I believe that she is from Tatooine then, one of the desert's there is called that."

After she said that, she kept one eye looking out at the rest of the area, as if scanning for threats before looking back at Pel.