Faction Can't Read my Poker Face [Black Sun & Ask for Invite]

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley Pryse will pay you for your misery, or she'll sell you someone's pain​

Neon bled through the cracked transparisteel windows of The Broken Spire, painting the smoke-choked air in bruised purples and gutter-gold. Nar Shaddaa never slept, it just got louder, and tonight it throbbed with the familiar pulse of bad decisions and worse company. The kind of place where credits vanished, tempers flared, and nobody asked questions they didn't want answered.

The poker table squatted in the center of the bar like a challenge.

Kinley Pryse sat slouched in her chair, boots hooked around the rungs, hat tipped just low enough to shadow her eyes. One hand idly spun a credit chip across her knuckles; the other nursed a half-empty glass of non alcoholic lum she'd been pretending to sip for the last ten minutes. She looked relaxed. That was the trick. Kinley always looked relaxed right up until someone realized they'd already lost.

Across from her, a Weequay bruiser growled under his breath as the dealer slid the cards out. To her left, a spice runner with twitchy fingers kept glancing at her stack like he could will it into his own pile. To her right, a sharply dressed woman with a blaster under her coat smiled too much and blinked too little.

Kinley smiled back.

The pot swelled. Credits clinked. A chair scraped somewhere behind her as someone got brave or stupid, sometimes both. The smell of alcohol, ozone, and desperation curled through the air like a familiar friend.

She flicked her cards up just enough to peek, lips twitching.

Not bad.

Not great.

Perfect.

"Easy game," Kinley said lightly, tossing in her bet. "Almost makes you forget we're on Nar Shaddaa."

The Weequay snorted. "Nobody forgets that."

"Sure they do," she replied, eyes glinting as the dealer laid down the next card. "That's how the moon makes its money."

A glass shattered somewhere behind them. Laughter followed. Someone cursed in Huttese. The music kicked up half a notch, all bass and bad intentions.

Kinley leaned back, hat tilting as she studied the table, the players, the way their hands hovered just a second too long over their chips.

Tonight wasn't about winning credits.

Tonight was about seeing who blinked first, and what they were willing to lose when they did. She needed connections and a game of cards was a good way to find them!

---

The Game Rules:

• Roll a 100 sided dice
• Highest number wins the hand

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Rellan Brax]

Bootsteps walked into the seedy little cantina. The menacing jangle of riding spurs. A group of four, dressed like the typical rough types of the Outer Rim. While each had his or her individual look, one thing was common among them: a spiky red symbol depicting a vulture-like creature. Crimson Clawbirds, a gang of bandits and outlaws that plagued the Morellian Commonwealth and....."friends" of Black Sun.

"Behave yourselves." came the gravelly drawl of their masked leader, "We ain't on the home turf. Show these Nar Shaddaans your best manners."

The group split up to enjoy different activities. A couple went to drink. Another to play at some holo-darts. The masked man, Rellan Brax, tilted his head at the table where he recognized a face there. He had only seen her once or twice at Black Sun meet ups. He strided and took up residency of a vacant spot at the table.

"Miss Pryse." He nodded, almost tipping his hood in a gentlemanly fashion, "Dealer, slice me in at the next round. Glad to a different game of cards. All my crew knows how play is sabaac. And that gets a might tirin' after a moon or so."

He pulled back his hood, and then disengaged his mask. Helmet came off with a hiss of pressured air breaking a seal, and was carefully placed by his side of the table. A red-haired man with a wild beard, looking apparretly human. He flashed a grin.

"S'only fair." He chuckled "Been called many things, but I reckon I ain't gonna be called a cheat at cards."

TAG: Kinley Pryse​

 

[Suribran Hai]

O B J E C T I V E - P O K E R | R E A D - M Y - F A C E
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​

Suribran bent over the poker table, a sly grin spreading across his face. Rather than examining his cards with both hands, he chose to lift the edges slightly with a single long finger to catch a glimpse. The deep scars on his face tightened as he released a raspy groan, fully aware that gambling on Nar Shaddaa could lead to a very deadly conclusion by night's end.

He had heard Rellan Brax announce himself, but the mining magnate didn't turn around just yet. He was too busy calculating the odds and the people sitting at the table. To his side sat none other than Kinley Pryse , the most infamous criminal in the galaxy according to the Black Sun's estimates, and while she acted relaxed so far, there was a distinct smell of ambition.

It was a scent he knew well from the boardrooms of the Offworld Mining Corporation and the Trigdale-Karflo Mining Consortium, both successful companies that the Ishi Tib mogul operated.

"The next round will be much more... interesting with a leader of...how we say cutthroats joining us," Suribran croaked, his bulbous eyes finally flickering toward Brax. "Though I hope your 'manners' include knowing when you are outmatched, Captain."

He turned his attention back to the current pot. He reached into a silk pouch at his belt and pulled out a handful of high-denomination chips, tossing them into the center with a careless flick of his wrist. It was a bet designed to make the twitchy spice runner fold and to see if Kinley had the stomach for a real fight.

"Your move, Miss Pryse. Or is the air getting a bit thin for you?"

 

[Kinley Pryse]

You've been hit by... you've been struck by...

Kinley's blend of spice is an easy thing to buy. All you've got to be is twenty-one... or fifteen if you lie.​

"Miss Pryse." He nodded, almost tipping his hood in a gentlemanly fashion, "Dealer, slice me in at the next round. Glad to a different game of cards. All my crew knows how play is sabaac. And that gets a might tirin' after a moon or so."

Kinley still wasn't used to hearing her own name on other people's lips. In this outfit, she was nobody, just another runner doing Flint's dirty work, pushing spice and keeping her head down. And yet… people were starting to know her. Starting to remember her. Whether that was a blessing or a death sentence remained to be seen.

"Aye, we're mixin' it up tonight." She motioned for him to take a seat, her attention drifting back to the Ishi Tib across the table. The alien's pale green skin was littered with old scars, his voice rough as rusted metal. He had the look of someone with deep pockets, and those were always her favorite kind.

"Your move, Miss Pryse. Or is the air getting a bit thin for you?"

Kinley laughed softly and tossed her chips into the pot. "Air's just fine," she said easily. "Fat and happy… just like me." Tonight wasn't about winning. Not really. Losing a few hands didn't matter if it bought the right introductions.

She laid her cards down with a crooked smile. The Ishi Tib had a strong hand, but hers was stronger.

"Well then," she said, glancing toward the red-haired man nearby as she scooped her winnings into her own pile. "let's see how our new friend plays." She indicated that the red haired man should join them at the table.


Rellan Brax Suribran Hai


((newcomers feel free to join and roll anytime! You can assume you are already at the table or just approaching! Very open!))

A Smooth Criminal

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Scherezade entered the Black Spire with the easy familiarity of someone moving through the rooms of their own home. She could not recall whether she had ever been here before, but it hardly mattered. New players were stepping onto a board set in motion years ago, and tonight the game might gain another chapter.

Contacts had always mattered. Somehow, against all odds, the Sithling had managed to cultivate more than a few, even during the lowest points of her life. One of them, she hoped, would arrive tonight bearing something she wanted. A fragment, or failing that, a lead. A step closer to the next fragment. She was beginning to believe the long, maddening quest she had committed herself to was finally nearing its end, and not a moment too soon. Under normal circumstances, she would have abandoned it long ago, but something within her kept pressing forward, insisting she see it through.

Her contact had chosen this place of all places. Shady casinos and dark alleyways no longer sufficed for discreet dealings. Now the fashion was to conduct business in plain sight, hidden by noise, light, and indifference. Scherezade could adapt. She always did. Team player, or team killer. That choice would be left to her contact.

So here she was, weaving toward the bar. Her glowing green gaze flicked briefly toward a poker table where a handful of strangers sat engrossed in their game ( Kinley Pryse , Suribran Hai , Rellan Brax ). For a fleeting moment, she considered joining them.

She dismissed the thought just as quickly.

Let the fools keep their credits.

For now.