Moira Skaldi
Paperclip Maximiser
[member="Anaya Fen"]
Zeltros, club of Lady Apoleia
Loud music, dancers, guests partying on the dance floor. The din of the club was alive and sin was in the air, enveloping anyone who entered and drawing them into the aura of debauchery that radiated from the latter-day Babylon. Not that Moira was the judgemental sort. She sort of did not have the programming to be moralistic and prudish.
A blue Twi'lek dancer gyrated on a pole, displaying amazing reach and flexibility as she presented her bountiful assets for a crowd of businessmen, who were terribly eager to liberate themselves of credit chits and augment her thong with them. From an intellectual perspective Moira obviously knew that the girl's form was what many organics of both genders would consider aesthetically pleasing and that it would cause the physical response defined as arousal, bringing forth carnal desires. Doubtless in some cases coitus in a backroom would follow. Equally doubtless was the fact that at least one of the businessmen would be so taken with lust he might inadvertently prattle out secrets while in the throes of passion, something that would give the mistress of this den a hold over him.
Twi'lek and Zeltron dancery gyrated acrobatically on poles, others graced the laps of an interesting mix of patrons. Business persons, politicians, gangsters, doubtless there was even a Jedi or two among the crowd, sampling sins their 'righteous' Order would assuredly frown upon. A few Scutarii pirate leaders, recognisable by their tattoos, sat in a booth in a corner, indulging in spice. They briefly caught her eye and quickly looked away with scowls. Good. She had sort of played a role in killing their Nawab, but then they should consider themselves lucky that they still lived.
Music blared incessantly then the song changed to something darker and fast, as Moira headed up to the stairs that would lead to the VIP lounge. Before she found a Zeltron girl wrapping her arms around her and pulling her in closer, lips brushing against her ear as a velvety voice cooed. "Hey, dear, beautiful lady like you looking for a date? Special services by the house." A hand enticingly stroked down her back and was already trying to lead her over to a comfortable looking couch.
Various options flashed across Moira's HUD when it came to dealing with the annoying organic. Broadly speaking and in a simplified manner they were 1. Crush her throat, 2. Push away and disentangle, 3. Play along, 4. Play along and process later. Presumably breaking the neck of one of the employees of this club, considering her prospective client owned it, would not be the smartest move. Moreover, she hardly wanted to advertise her true nature.
"Not presently, business unfortunately. Perhaps later you can show your...special skills?" Moira said sweetly, though the smile did not reach her eyes. It never did, but the dancer did either not notice or care. Either way it was irrelevant.
"Night's young, but don't take too long," the girl drawled and after her touch lingered for a while sauntered away with a delicate sway of her hips, the movements of her butt something that would doubtless have been most eagerly followed by the gaze of Siobhan Kerrigan. However, Moira was not Siobhan. Her deep infiltration were just that, protocols to enable her to better blend in and get close to a target. So instead of wasting time she walked up the stairwell, keen eyes unemotionally scanning her surroundings, taking note of exits, the guards, those among the security who were presenting themselves as guests and so forth.
"Nalia Alderana. Lady Apoleia is expecting me. Password is Slaanesh," she said softly when what appeared to be the elite security on the next floor beckoned her to a halt. Calls had been made, meeting arranged and so on and so forth, 'Lady Apoleia' knew she was coming. Nalia Alderana an aspiring businesswoman, co-owner of Archangel Research and Design, a company that had recently made a name for itself for producing top-notch quality HRDs for wealthy clients, expertly tailored to fit their needs.
One of her many names. The cover was an affectation, those with whom she worked closely - or who were well-informed, which sort of went hand in hand - knew 'Nalia Alderana' was Moira Skaldi, former director of the Protectorate's military intelligence division. Butcher of Contruum, site of the Republic's dirty war that this Galaxy just would not allow to rest, as if the killing fields were not filled enough with skulls yet. Those who knew best would be aware that she was a human replica droid, the same as the products of the company she and 'Anna Comnena' managed.
Ultimate and very secret agenda being the eradication of all organic life. A far off, covert plan that would not come to fruition for a very long time. The more immediate goal being power and chaos. The Galaxy had been peaceful and stable for too long, civilisation needed to be torn down and go up in those beautiful, purifying flames. True the Fringe and the Protectorate had fought - the latter was being entirely too self-congratulatory about repulsing its enemy at Eriadu - the Moross Crusaders had invaded the in Moira's eyes thoroughly unimpressive Horde. The Mandalorians, having already endeared themselves to her by Donanyding Dromund Kaas, had shown up in Coruscant's orbit with a battle fleet. Unfortunately, they had not bombed bit, but war was certain.
However, that did not suffice. Moira had calculated a very high probablity that her prospective business partner shared her desire to make the Galaxy burn. Doubtless not for the same motives, but that was less relevant than a common agenda presently. A potentially very profitable one.
Zeltros, club of Lady Apoleia
Loud music, dancers, guests partying on the dance floor. The din of the club was alive and sin was in the air, enveloping anyone who entered and drawing them into the aura of debauchery that radiated from the latter-day Babylon. Not that Moira was the judgemental sort. She sort of did not have the programming to be moralistic and prudish.
A blue Twi'lek dancer gyrated on a pole, displaying amazing reach and flexibility as she presented her bountiful assets for a crowd of businessmen, who were terribly eager to liberate themselves of credit chits and augment her thong with them. From an intellectual perspective Moira obviously knew that the girl's form was what many organics of both genders would consider aesthetically pleasing and that it would cause the physical response defined as arousal, bringing forth carnal desires. Doubtless in some cases coitus in a backroom would follow. Equally doubtless was the fact that at least one of the businessmen would be so taken with lust he might inadvertently prattle out secrets while in the throes of passion, something that would give the mistress of this den a hold over him.
Twi'lek and Zeltron dancery gyrated acrobatically on poles, others graced the laps of an interesting mix of patrons. Business persons, politicians, gangsters, doubtless there was even a Jedi or two among the crowd, sampling sins their 'righteous' Order would assuredly frown upon. A few Scutarii pirate leaders, recognisable by their tattoos, sat in a booth in a corner, indulging in spice. They briefly caught her eye and quickly looked away with scowls. Good. She had sort of played a role in killing their Nawab, but then they should consider themselves lucky that they still lived.
Music blared incessantly then the song changed to something darker and fast, as Moira headed up to the stairs that would lead to the VIP lounge. Before she found a Zeltron girl wrapping her arms around her and pulling her in closer, lips brushing against her ear as a velvety voice cooed. "Hey, dear, beautiful lady like you looking for a date? Special services by the house." A hand enticingly stroked down her back and was already trying to lead her over to a comfortable looking couch.
Various options flashed across Moira's HUD when it came to dealing with the annoying organic. Broadly speaking and in a simplified manner they were 1. Crush her throat, 2. Push away and disentangle, 3. Play along, 4. Play along and process later. Presumably breaking the neck of one of the employees of this club, considering her prospective client owned it, would not be the smartest move. Moreover, she hardly wanted to advertise her true nature.
"Not presently, business unfortunately. Perhaps later you can show your...special skills?" Moira said sweetly, though the smile did not reach her eyes. It never did, but the dancer did either not notice or care. Either way it was irrelevant.
"Night's young, but don't take too long," the girl drawled and after her touch lingered for a while sauntered away with a delicate sway of her hips, the movements of her butt something that would doubtless have been most eagerly followed by the gaze of Siobhan Kerrigan. However, Moira was not Siobhan. Her deep infiltration were just that, protocols to enable her to better blend in and get close to a target. So instead of wasting time she walked up the stairwell, keen eyes unemotionally scanning her surroundings, taking note of exits, the guards, those among the security who were presenting themselves as guests and so forth.
"Nalia Alderana. Lady Apoleia is expecting me. Password is Slaanesh," she said softly when what appeared to be the elite security on the next floor beckoned her to a halt. Calls had been made, meeting arranged and so on and so forth, 'Lady Apoleia' knew she was coming. Nalia Alderana an aspiring businesswoman, co-owner of Archangel Research and Design, a company that had recently made a name for itself for producing top-notch quality HRDs for wealthy clients, expertly tailored to fit their needs.
One of her many names. The cover was an affectation, those with whom she worked closely - or who were well-informed, which sort of went hand in hand - knew 'Nalia Alderana' was Moira Skaldi, former director of the Protectorate's military intelligence division. Butcher of Contruum, site of the Republic's dirty war that this Galaxy just would not allow to rest, as if the killing fields were not filled enough with skulls yet. Those who knew best would be aware that she was a human replica droid, the same as the products of the company she and 'Anna Comnena' managed.
Ultimate and very secret agenda being the eradication of all organic life. A far off, covert plan that would not come to fruition for a very long time. The more immediate goal being power and chaos. The Galaxy had been peaceful and stable for too long, civilisation needed to be torn down and go up in those beautiful, purifying flames. True the Fringe and the Protectorate had fought - the latter was being entirely too self-congratulatory about repulsing its enemy at Eriadu - the Moross Crusaders had invaded the in Moira's eyes thoroughly unimpressive Horde. The Mandalorians, having already endeared themselves to her by Donanyding Dromund Kaas, had shown up in Coruscant's orbit with a battle fleet. Unfortunately, they had not bombed bit, but war was certain.
However, that did not suffice. Moira had calculated a very high probablity that her prospective business partner shared her desire to make the Galaxy burn. Doubtless not for the same motives, but that was less relevant than a common agenda presently. A potentially very profitable one.