A Good Bar Fight Never Hurt Anyone... Much(Open)

[Christian Slade]

Zeltros

The Drowned Gungan Cantina

There weren't many Cantinas on Zeltros because clubs and casinos were so much more popular to get drunk in, but those few on Zeltros who didn't enjoy being around all the youth and chaos frequented these places. That meant that the usual visitors of these rare establishments were rough, crass and hardened, making them difficult to please and almost impossible to get along with, especially if you didn't share the same, bland personalities that they did.

That was why, after Christian's fifth drink of whiskey at the bar, he could sense the displeasure of the regulars who had no idea who he was or why he was there. The fact that that specific Cantina held so many regulars that were used to the same faces meant that he was out of place and unwelcome there, but he didn't care. He'd had the worries of a newly established Sith Council on his mind and been given responsibilities that he wasn't interested in. It also didn't help the right as he was taking a sip of his fifth drink, the rather large, brutish man next to him bumbped him with his shoulder, causing him ot jar and half of his drink to spill out on his hand and all over the top of the bar.

Loud and obnoxious laughter filled up the entire Cantina which billowed from every mouth except those belonging to waitresses, bartenders and a few loners here and there minding their own business. That, however, wasn't more than enough to anger a certain, strung out and less than patient Sith Lord who now was fuming. His eyes shuddered with frustration as he lowered the drink to the bar top and gripped the edge of it tightly with his free hand, a small crack appearing bebeath a couple of his fingers.

He was beginning to calm down a bit, but before anyone could stop him as the laugher commenced, the large man next to Christian leaned over and said, "Try not to spill your drink, Sweetheart." He laughed again, this time deliberately in Christian's ear, that's when it he lost it. A visible steam began to rise off of his back, although few noticed and continued to laugh at his expense. His jaw tightened, the skin across his face rippling ever so slightly as he slowly turned and glared at the man. "Clean it up.", he demanded of the brute next to him, which only made him laugh harder.

That was the last straw. He'd had enough, and there was no going back, although he'd tried to control himself, it was entirely too late to be civil and he lost control. Reaching over in a blur of motion, Christian snatched the man by the head, grabbing a hold of his hair tightly. He then stood up, stepped back and slammed the man's face into his glass, which was crushed beneath him with ease. The glass shattered into countless pieces and sank into the man's flash, and as his head was yanked back up from the table, many red spots where blood had already pooled up remained.

Pulled the man's head back just a bit so that he could peer over him, Christian leaned over and connected eyes with the man who was barely abel to see him through the blood and glass on his face. "I told you to clean it up." He then narrowed his eyes on the man, tightened his grip on the man's head and slammed his head into the bar again, this time not stopping. He slammed his head again and again and again laughter having completely died out by this point as everyone watched the usual customer getting obliterated by a man that not a single person there had known.

The wood was beginning to crack beneath the man's head, who he continued to slam into the bar top, which he only stopped doing after he was attacked by two other men from across the bar who had apparently known the man. As they reached him, Christian pulled the man's head up from the bar and threw him backwards across the bar. As the comedian stumbled across the bar and into a table, he fell to the floor, motionless. When the first man swung at him, Christian threw his head to the side, letting his fist pass right by his face. The weight he'd put behind him caused him to collider with Christian, chest to chest, who wrapped his arms around him tightly and powered through him, in a tackle.

He carried the man with him, slamming him into the third man, who fell to the ground and was trampled by a charging Christian, who passed over him and slammed the second man into the far wall who cried out in pain. He dropped that man to the floor who rolled over onto his stomach, holding his back, and turned to the third man who'd gotten himself up and was coming at him with a fist. As the second man struggled to get up, Christian ducked the third man's punch and put a fist right into his gut. It sent him reeling, but he stepped back towards Christian who'd already followed up with a kick, the bottom of his boot planting firmly in his chest and flinging him, back first, into the bar.

Turning and glaring at the second man, Christian started walking in his direction again, golden eyes burning with anger as he heaved deep, angry breaths that caused his shoulders to rise and fall.

 

[Viktor Ekhard]

It was like watching a scene unfold that had been done in countless B-Action holo-vids before. Person A enters bar, the regulars do not approve of said new comer, and what to let the holovids protagonist aware of this. A brawl and or battle ensues, until bodies are everywhere, and the movie's protagonist is left standing over countless bodies. Though if he recalled, the last holo-vid he had seen, the protagonists character used a lightsaber to sever a man's arm... something about the words "I don't like you... my friend doesn't like you either..." resonating through his memory.

The scene unfolding before him was a bit more brutish and graphic; a more "hands on" approach if you will. Though Viktor was certain that was exactly what this protagonist wanted. He knew better than to mess with the newcomer. One didn't enter an establishment such as this, with hair as long as his and with that much product in it, without having almost certainly been in his share of bar brawls before.

As the first victim collapsed to the floor, some twenty meters from Viktor's table - far enough to not disturb his whiskey, thankfully - two more joined the fray, but Viktor was still focused on the first as he lay there, motionless, his vital signs no doubt fleeting with each passing moment. Reaching into his jacket, Viktor pulled out a commlink, and spoke in a low hush, "Riker, it appears we have a new patient. I'm at the DG," he paused for a moment, straining his head for a better look at the downed individual, "If you don't move quickly, might be a donor more than a patient," he added, then flicked his commlink off, returning it to his pocket.

What's that, you ask? I can see you judging our fair Doctor Ekhard by his seemingly dispassionate response. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but not all Doctor's goals are of the most altruistic motives. A man has to eat after all; there are bills to be paid; running several small clinics throughout the galaxy doesn't come cheap.

In Viktor's experience, the easiest way of earning an income was to provide treatment first -not always with the patients consent, but that was a story for another time - and then bill them afterwards. The more severe their injuries, the more costly their treatment; which meant the more money for Viktor. Donors were also viable forms of cash. Organs went for a pretty penny on the black market these days, and if someone didn't survive the procedure, or couldn't pay their bills... well let's just say, Viktor always had his way of collecting.

As the brawl continued to involve two more, Viktor merely pulled out his commlink once again, and spoke calmly, "Might be adding a couple of more patients to the list, before the evening is through," he added, then placed the commlink back into his pocket, and calmly took another sip of his drink.

Business is good...

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

The last time she had been on Zeltros, she had been here on a Jedi duty to record a report. That report included the sightings of two temperamental Sith. Because of this report, the second time she was on Zeltros, was because she was here to record a report.
The concerns of Sith were growing. The fact that two had been uncovered in Republic Space was disconcerting to the Jedi. Therefore, Kiskla had been sent back.
The facility was different from last time. That's why she had chosen it. The patrons here were less into their fancies, and more into their routine. Anything different, they detected. Unlike @[member="Christian Slade"], Kiskla had a habit of being a positive beacon in a room, and drawing people to her. It wasn't any sort of empathetic release, what it was couldn't be fingerpointed to one select thing. Considering the atmosphere, we'll blame her looks. But anyways, she'd already confirmed that there was a new business in town -- the very one she'd been at last time. But as they weren't users of the Force, the owner was largely unremarkable. Just a bit cocky. As it stood, she was sitting at a table in the corner of the dimly lit cantina -- her company shirtless for the most part. Poor men. They'd entered this game of pozaak considering they'd have the advantage; but the youth had spent much of her childhood with bounty hunters and had spent time playing cards as she crossed the galaxy with the scum. Plus, she was just very good at dealing hands. So, she was still fully dressed and they were at an unfortunate disadvantage.

"Gentlemen, we can stop at anytime." For a while, she'd been grounded in her Jedi roots, but this side of her stemmed from her father's roots. As did her confidence when they grumbled among themselves at the suggestion from the smug blonde. Her attention was only caught when there was a dark brewing, and her head snapped up and to focus.

Then there was an unfortunate discordance and some poor gentleman's face was being beaten to a pulp. Now, as a Jedi, it was her duty to maintain the peace. Especially on a Republic world. With a deep frown, Kiskla evaluated the situation. All these men were agitated beyond belief, and stepping in as an aggressor would certainly not relieve the situation whatsoever. With a world weary sigh, she closed her eyes. The Force was agitated, and there were many flaws and knolls she could practice her white current in. But that would exhaust her.

Instead, a calming wave rolled from her epicentre and touched many minds in the facility. Some relaxed, some were unaffected. Those that were unaffected felt a swelling in their veins -- a microscopic manipulation to their muscles from a distance that would weight them down. This reached out to affect the Sith as well, as the blonde pushed from her seat and finally put down her hand. Cards faced down. Those she had been pazaaking with quickly shoved their arms back into their sleeves. As she crossed to make a presence at the scene, she passed a table and overheard a brief one-sided conversation. Nails rapped against the table of the person's (@[member="Viktor Ekhard"]) table and she offered a simple "Hopefully not."

The mood was not akin what you were supposed to find on Zeltros. A few more steps, and she was between the two men who were squaring each other; thankfully her looks alone could help stop the movements of a room. Swiftly, the young woman reached out to grip the bicep of the amber eyed sith, a slight hiss on her tongue while time was bought by her microscopic manipulations.

“I know it’s hard, but try and keep your hands to yourself.”

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian was about to beat the other man he was facing off with when his arm was grabbed by a gentle touch. As he did, he felt his muscles tense up and swell, slowing him a bit and making him feel heavy. He glanced down at the young woman who owned the hand that was touching him and stared with those piercing eyes he had. He stared at the woman hard, his body growing hot with frustration at the attempts to bog him down.

Any other time, he'd have been delighted that the woman presented herself to him and even more pleased with the fact that she chose to touch him so that he could give some confident, but cute comment about it. This time, however, wasn't any other time. He was angry, and that was too bad for her and the men he'd already been coming to blows with. His eyes grew wide and his body temperature continued to rise, thinning out the bloodstream and causing his muscles to swell. His skin was tight stretched across his muscles, veins protruding from his neck, arms and even a few places on his forehead and jawline. "How dare you try to manipulate me...", Christian whispered, grimacing as he huffed a deep breath of frustration.

His anger grew more intense by the second, now an every so slightly visible steam began to rise from his back that had seeped through his clothing. Without warning, and with blinding speed, Christians hand darted out towards Kiskla, but passed by her pretty face without a scratch. His golden eyes were no longer on her, and instead, were looking at the man standing on the other side of Kiskla, who had separated them. His large hand snapped around the man's neck, and immediately he began to weaken at the knees as the young Sith bore down on the man.

He stole his breath from him, and the man was gasping for the ever so essential element that was a necessity to everyone, no matter in what way or amount they got it. Stepping past Kiskla, the choking man sliding across the floor as Christian carried him with one arm, the young Sith pulled the man in close, leaning down over him and hissing through gritted teeth as he said, "Wrong stranger, wrong night."

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Kiskla was at a disadvantage. She was not trained for close-quarters interceptions. She had a naturally raw power harnessed in her, and she needed to express it in large strokes, rather than refined ones. Still, the situation needed to be doused immediately. For the most part, many of the patrons were affected by her mental persuasion to be calm and relaxed, as if nothing was happening. The idle chatter in the bar was picking up again, and the irksome spike of hostility was smoothing over.

The feeling of anger was so thick it was practically tangible. Especially to one with an acute understanding of The Force. The first interaction she'd had with this Sith, albeit brief, he had released a steam in anger. Apparently this time, it overtook him. This meant that colloquial jibs would no longer suffice and she would need to step in. Her primary objective was to make sure that none of the indigenous came to any harm.

While she had been working with molecules, part of her extension wove and wound to find the knolls in the Force’s current. Because there were two conflicting energies in such a close proximity to each other, the spikes and dips were easily found; even to a novice of illusions such as herself. While she occupied @[member="Christian Slade"], she gave a gentle nudge to the other brooding man. He seemed to get it as a like image of himself erected by his side. He saw the out and curled his face away, concealing himself in a crouch to check on his fallen comrade. But the illusion-- it was far from perfect, considering Kiskla wasn’t able to touch the other man, or smell him even. She was going off a momentary glance alone. However, when one is trained to observe threats etcetera, a momentary glance is all you need for details. She hadn’t even looked at Christian when she had spoken to him, and in the time it took him to reach past her and to the illusion, she’d formed a pretty solid looking dude. He was of course, odourless, mute, and largely intangible. When he reached past her, she panicked. She’d never made a tangible illusion before. She went off her own memories on how a man felt and projected that. Christian’s skin would meet a suffocating windpipe and dragging feet, but she couldn’t keep it up for long. Especially since the original man was now getting ready stand again, with his friend. And she had a feeling this was going to make the Sith even angrier, rather than diffusing the situation. But at least she’d interjected and saved the actual patron from physical harm.

If Christian had been less angry, he would have likely noticed by proximity alone, that this man had no scent. His eyes were lifeless, and there was no passion to his being.

"You're right about the wrong stranger.”
With a gasp, she dropped the illusion and took a large step from where she had been, in case the Sith decided to lash out again — but this time at her.
Well, she intended for that, but she’d prefer to save as much of herself as possible. She really wanted to double over and rest her palms against her thighs to catch herself, but she remained collected.

“Take your tantrum elsewhere. These men are not your match.” In case that didn’t work, she coaxed him on a little more. Because really, a Sith just wanted distruction and chaos at their hands. It didn’t matter who. “I thought Sith liked to challenge themselves.”

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian's hand snapped open, dropping what, for a moment, he thought was the man he'd been about to rip in half. He couldn't understand how he could have missed it, but he could tell from the moment the skin of his hand touched the skin of the man's throat that he was vacant and without life. Even through his rage, Christian could sense the absence of the force in the man, and the force was in all things living.

"I'm not like most Sith.", Christian said, turning and glancing over his shoulder at the retreating Jedi. "They might not be much of a challenge, but they were out of line. I don't just kill people for the fun of it. I only kill when I get pissed off, and I'm not even pissed off yet. I'm just a little irritated.", he said, throwing his hand out towards the pair of men, one helping the other up from the ground. In a blur of motion his hand was up and had already sent the force rushing through the space between he and the pair of men. He struck them both in the chest and sent them flying in different directions after the impact against their chests. One was thrown head over heels and collided with the edge of the bar which he flipped over and landed on the other side next to a bartender. The other man struck a table and rolled across the next behind it until he fell to the ground and rolled to a stop.

Lowering his hand, Christian glanced over at Kiskla with a less than pleased look about his face. As he watched her he again noted her perfections and appeal to him, but he couldn't see this one being easily swayed. It was possible that in both of their futures they could end up becoming intimate, but the same could go for many different acquaintances. This woman, however, was different. She was special, powerful, and attractive. She was playful and witty and eager to challenge him. He liked that, all too much.

"These men dug their own graves when they made the mistake of screwing with someone they didn't know, but if it pleases you, I'll let them off with the beating they've already received.", he said, wondering what she might say to that. She would say that these men were her responsibility to protect, and he would disagree. Why protect someone who in return would never risk their lives to protect you? Why allow that higher calling an audience in your mind when in theirs there is nothing but sick and twisted thoughts. Thoughts of greed, lust and hatred, just like anyone else. In some ways, some people were worse than any Sith had ever been. Sure there was a lust for power and in some cases greed and envy for wealth, which bred power when managed properly, but that was child's play to some men. Some men would kill you not for money, not because it made them more powerful, not because of envy or for greed, but just because it was an option. Just because they could. Just because they took some sick enjoyment out of it.

Walking up to the bar, Christian reached over it's edge and plucked the bottle of honey whiskey from it. He then reached over and grabbed another glass, since he'd broken the last one on a man's face, and dropped a couple cubes of ice in it. He then poured out the glass, about half full of the honey whiskey, before setting the bottle back to the bar top and turning to lean up against it as he watched Kiskla. He narrowed those golden eyes he had on her face as he took a sip of the whiskey, sighing after the satisfying gulp of alcohol as he said, "Are you going to arrest me Ma'am, or am I free to continue doing whatever the hell I want when I want?"

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Well that was unexpected! She was definitely expecting to be thrown across the bar, or having to defend herself from lightning or some dark mental attack or something. But, no such threat evidenced itself. The Force blast would be damaging, perhaps bone-breaking and bruise inducing, but not fatal. She attempted to soften their fall by creating a small cushion where they were to land, but they still connected to the areas @[member="Christian Slade"] blasted them at.

They were groaning to erect themselves, and Kiskla’s hand waved before her. They were filled with vengeful ideas, wanting to rip the spine out from the one that had wronged them. As much as she didn’t like the idea of defending the Sith, it would be more harmful for them in the end if they did choose to attack Christian once again. With her palm passing through the air, those thoughts were repressed and redistributed to the shards of damage from all their actions. Which they begun to collect. It wasn’t favouritism, but she couldn’t just overcome that much animosity. Well, she could, but that illusion was kinda wearisome.

The blonde walked to where one the men were, and helped right the overturned table. It was when she was propping up the chairs that he began speaking to her, and she frowned deeply. It bothered her that he had backed down so easily — it just made things more complicated for her conscience. If he attacked, she could attack back. If he was civil — well, she was no Carn Dista. She was extraordinarily curious and preferred to pursue jibs and jabs rather than electro-cuffs.

“Why are you here?” She asked, ignoring his question of arrest and obviously misinformed use of the term ma’am.
A.) Nobody under 30 should be called ma’am
B.) She was no average ma’am — and he could possibly be trying to unearth her identity. Which was fine.
The last time she had seen him he was also drinking. “Do you just hang around Zeltros and drink? Causing mayhem when you prefer?” Because if that was the case, she definitely had grounds for an arrest. Or, at least a detainment.

"You sound like you want to be arrested."

 

[Refel Kalun]

Refel walked into the cantina, yawning, it had been a long day on him, first he had been chasing some pickpocket who had stolen his DL-44 and then he had run into a small gang of pickpockets and then he had gotten into a fight and then...Uhh, such a tiresome day.

Refel looked like a moving shadow as he entered, and it didn't take long to notice two or three men on the ground, obviously beaten, with a woman leaning over one. "A barfight already?" he snarled though in much less aggressive way then normal. Then he looked over and noticed a figure who seemed vaguely familiar but that he couldn't bring to mind.

Refel stepped over to a nearby table, away from the two downed men and woman against the wall and sat down, he didn't want to order just yet, just in case someone decided to knock his drink over, that would make him very, very mad he decided.

 

[Christian Slade]

Christian Laughed lightly at the woman's response. He'd also noted the surprised expression on her face and the slight hesitation he could hear in her voice. He'd gotten good at gambling and picking out tells having owned at least one Casino since he was 16 years old. Now, older, much more wealthy and owning almost a dozen Casinos, Christian knew exactly what to look for and what he could ignore.

Apparently he surprised the woman, which was something he rather enjoyed doing. Keeping people on their toes, especially the ones that were particularly interesting to you, was of utmost importance. If they were able to predict you or foresee what you were going to do before you did it then you were destined to lose. That was why it was good not to be easily read, to practice hiding and masking your tells and to always change the game up every time you got the chance.

He had been about to respond to the woman when his golden eyes were drawn towards the door of the cantina. He saw a dark figure that he knew he'd seen in one of his casinos before, but it must have been a long time prior to that night that he'd seen him. It was an odd creature, and as he recalled he was very openly vocal about the things he disliked. He wasn't of any concern, however, as long as he was left alone. Christian had never had any problem with him to begin with except for initially disagreeing with him, which was a problem that he'd quickly smoothed out. Now they were on at least decent terms, but he'd have to keep an eye on him still, just to be sure.

Looking back to Kriskla, Christian shrugged his shoulders as he said, "I have a business here on the planet that keeps me around. I like to make sure things are kept up myself. That's why I'm out and about as much as I am. That and sometimes I like to have a drink at different establishments that I haven't or don't visit often to see what draws that particular crowd to which establishment.", he said, taking a well deserved sip of his whiskey after having explained that to Kriskla. He then let more of his weight lean up against the bar as he crossed his legs that were acting like a kickstand the way he was perched up.

"I told you. I'm not like other Sith. I don't just kill because it's fun... it is fun though.", he said, a cute smile spreading across his face as he watched her with amber eyes that seemed almost softer.

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]

 

[Kiskla Grayson-Matteo]

Other Sith. Valik didn't kill for fun, Ashin hadn't slaughtered for enjoyment. Cameron..Cameron definitely killed for pleasure. @[member="Christian Slade"]'s rapidness to calm down was strange to her, that was for certain, and she didn't let down her guard. "Perhaps you're just dark, not Sith." She commented flippantly.

Speaking of guards, a few of the Zeltron Police Force had been called by one of the men in the back corner. Usually, a bar fight was standard-- especially in this cantina of sorts. This time, however, there was a lot more blood than anyone was used to. It would take some time for them to arrive however. Guards though they were, they had pheromones too.

"Good, then keep to your business." The blonde said flatly, "And don't react so childishly when others interfere with yours." She was going to leave that for the night, but she decided that leaving him here, and her leaving and releasing the tension reliever would probably mean somebody's teeth were going to get pounded in. So, she waited for the routine patrol to begin their round.

 

[Refel Kalun]

Refel stood up from his table, stretching his back and stepping over to the bar, he was getting rather thirsty and sitting there thinking about how thirsty he was wasn't going to help him much. As he passed the man and woman he listened in, taking a bar seat near to them so that he could listen in, he liked listening in, there was so much you could learn. Then he slapped a couple of credits on the bar and ordered something weak, he wasn't one to think that a hard drink made you a tougher or stronger person, it just made you a disoriented drunk.

Refel smirked as the woman finished "Looks like someone needs to stop being so childish." he snarled under his breath, wondering what the semi-familiar man had done, and then, as his thoughts wandered, he wondered who he was.

 

[Christian Slade]

"Perhaps you don't know darkness at all.", Christian said, smirking and taking a sip from his drink, stilling leaning against the bar and watching the female Jedi goody two shoes. Gulping that sip down, his facial expression changed abruptly when she blatantly insulted him by calling his reaction childish. After he heard that, though, he quickly composed himself and took another sip of whiskey to mask the slight twinge of displeasure that rushed through him.

Finally he leaned forward and pushed himself off of the bar, falling into an easy, smooth stride as he headed for the door. "I'll make sure to react like an adult next time, dear. Oh, wait, do I even possess such restraint? I am a Sith, after all. We're all just a bunch of children anyway.", he said, laughing to himself as he turned his glass of whiskey up and downed the rest of his drink. As he reached the door, he reached out and set his empty glass on the table next to where a young man was checking IDs.

"I'll be seeing ya, dollface.", he said, raising his hand and waving it over his shoulder as he walked out of the bar, not bothering to look back at her. "I'll try and be a good boy from now on."

@[member="Kiskla Grayson"]