Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Circe de Madness

There were many places to hide and disappear in Nar Shaddaa. Hidden places, that only a few had the privilege (or misfortune) of knowing about. The kinds of places where you were welcomed in simply due to the fact that you knew of the existence of the location.

Warehouse 13 was one of those places.

Inside the abandoned building was nothing more than the wreckage of what was there before. Broken machinery there, rusting metal here, nothing special. However, upon reaching the service elevator...

Well, that's were things got more interesting.

Deep in the bowels of Warehouse 13 was a booming nightclub, reserved for only the few and elite of the Smuggler's Moon. The dance floor overflowed with some of Nar Shaddaa's most influential and connected sentients, dancing about to the bass of the music as if there was no tomorrow. Spice, death sticks, and other drugs flowed freely, only serving to amplify one's senses to a titillating point. Openly armed guards patrolled the area, making sure their patrons were not disturbed.

The VIP section only got more interesting.

It was a large room, accommodated by sofas and other furniture devices lying about. A mini-bar was perched against the wall, filled to the brim with every drink one could imagine. There was a tinted one-way window, ensuring the party inside had a great view of the party outside, but not vise-versa.

What was more interesting, though, was the man inside of the VIP room.

John Doe looked out at the dance floor through the viewport, glancing over the bodies squirming and writhing about. He was dressed in his usual purple suit, his green hair slicked back to a sheen, and his chalk-white face adorning the usual smile that bespoke insanity. With him were two guards, the minimum amount of security that the crime lord traveled with. They were seated, silent. They knew that their boss enjoyed these moments as periods of self reflection, as odd as it sounded.

"Look at them....I hate them, each and every one."

The henchmen knew better than to comment. This was one of the few moments where their employer was actually somewhat serious. To interrupt his meditations would provoke the wrath of John Doe, and anyone who had even heard of the man and what he did to people who angered him knew that was a bad idea.

Still, the crime lord wasn't above taking guests who peaked his interest in for a chat. More than a couple of his competent employees were found that way. He could almost smell it, the way they differentiated themselves from the herd, standing out like a sore thumb. So far, he had seen no one of that caliber around yet.

"When will these cattle learn..."

It didn't matter. John had come to Warehouse 13 for one real reason: to reflect on why he did what he did. Why he hated people so much. The pointlessness, the fruitless struggle that was their lives, desperately trying to amount all they could before they keeled over and died. He would show them all one day. One day, he would hear the pleas of the galaxy, begging for mercy, and then he'd drown out those cries with peals of laughter as he showed them how insignificant they really were.

"My, my...I think we have a taker. Tell one of the brainless triggermen this place calls guards to send the tall woman over to the VIP booth. Now."

"You got it, boss."

One of the bodyguards scrambled off. He stepped out of the VIP area and beckoned over a bouncer who wasn't too far away.

"See that tall dame over there? The boss wants her in the VIP booth now."

The bouncer nodded and proceeded through the mass of bodies to reach the woman that the mysterious man who basically owned the VIP section wanted to see...

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
Farryn, former heir of House Loragwyn, and disgraced Eldorai noble watched on with an expression of disgust as members of different species mingled in a location that was so undoubtedly below her: a nightclub. Unfortunately, as much as she despised her current circumstances, she had no choice if she wanted to survive so that she may be able to pursue revenge against her treacherous sister.

A merchant of not only violence but information as well, the Eldorai scanned the nightclub in search of worthy connections and settled on a female zeltron at the bar. From her limited experience, zeltrons always seemed to be a good source of information.

"Hello," Farryn slid into the empty seat beside the zeltron.

"How about you buy me a drink first?" the pink woman grinned.

"What would you like to drink?" the Eldorai asked trying to hide her annoyance. Everyone always wanted something.

"Whatever you're having dear. They say you can learn quite a bit about an individual from their choice of drink," the zeltron winked.

Farryn rolled her eyes and called the bartender over. "Two waters," she ordered.

Clearly displeased at the albino Eldorai's choice of drink, the zeltron frowned. "Well, the first thing I know without a doubt about you is that you're cheap," she said with a sigh. Of all the people who could've approached her, it had to be a cheapskate.

"Tell me something interesting and I'll get you a more interesting drink," Farryn replied matter-of-factly. "Know anyone looking for a little hired help here?"

The zeltron sighed again and forced a not too friendly smile. "Oh, so you're a cheeky one - I dunno if I like that," she teased, her tone tinged with annoyance and gestured towards the VIP room. "It's common knowledge that the people most worth talking to here are in there."

Farryn nodded and rose from her seat. "I see," she said simply as a burly man approached her.

[member="John Doe"]
 
An impatient finger tapped Farryn on the shoulder repeatedly. When she turned around, the woman would see a bouncer, slung weapon hanging low and ready, arms crossed.

"Hey, lady. Someone upstairs wants to have a chat with you. If I were you, I wouldn't keep him waiting. In fact, you better just follow me."

The armed man would lead the way through the crowd, not hesitant to shove aside people who were in the way. He waited for Farryn to follow him to the VIP booth, where the door would be opened to reveal the grinning maniac overlooking Warehouse 13.

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
"What?" Farryn turned around with a scowl on her face. She did not appreciate being touched.

"Hey, lady. Someone upstairs wants to have a chat with you. If I were you, I wouldn't keep him waiting. In fact, you better just follow me," the man said and led the way towards the VIP room before the Eldorai could reply.

Interesting. Farryn thought and replaced her scowl with a more friendly but not at all genuine expression as she followed the man. Although she had been taught not to speak to strangers or follow strange men, she was no better than them right now.

With a small sigh, the albino followed the bouncer up to the VIP booth where a door was open and she laid her eyes on possibly one of the strangest men she would ever meet.

"Hello," she said, greeting the man concealing her discomfort. Although she wanted to meet the man inside the VIP room, she had wanted to do it on her own terms.

[member="John Doe"]
 
John Doe hadn't turned from the viewport until the woman had spoken.

"Hello."

With that, he slowly pivoted around, revealing his ghastly smile, yellow teeth, and eyes that bespoke both madness and knowledge at the same time. The crime lord gestured to one of the many sofas and spoke, his voice loud and full of character.

"Sit, my dear. Can I get you something to drink? Nothing soothes the nerves better than a well-placed bolt to the brainpan. Or a shot of Corellian whiskey. Hehehehe."

The clown gestured out to the writhing mass below in the nightclub.

"Disgusting, isn't it? The cattle of the galaxy, wasting away their lives on a hedonistic pursuit that leads to nothing more than oblivion. Ah, but I won't bore you with my philosophical ramblings. No, I think you agree with me. Am I right, or am I right? Bahahaha!"

John extended a hand to shake. It was pale, more so than even an albino's skin. His skin was a chalkish white in color. Curious, to say the least.

"Go on, shake his hand," one of the bodyguards exclaimed, almost offended that the woman didn't immediately reach out for it in earnest.

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
Farryn forced a smile as she gazed upon the man seated inside the VIP room. He looked a bit... odd - if she was to put it nicely or a total maniac if she was to be frank.

"Farryn," she gave her name hoping that the man would not address her as my dear again. It made her uncomfortable to hear herself addressed with such words.

"Ice tea or a non-alcoholic alternative would be nice. I don't consume alcohol - it dulls my senses," she replied bluntly and took a seat on a sofa near the curious man.

"Very," Farryn nodded in agreement to the man words. "They could be doing some productive but instead, they choose to do this," there was a strong sense of distaste in her tone. She had little respect for the cattle - as the strange man had called them.

Prompted by one of the bodyguards, the Eldorai extended her hand a little clumsily in return and wrapped her hand around the peculiar man's, shaking it. Although she had only recently become accustomed to the use of her non-dominant hand after the loss of her dominant one, she could still be a bit uncoordinated in her actions at times.

"A pup should not interrupt his master's meeting," she remarked and shot a glance at the bodyguard. "Nor should he bark at a lady," she added.

[member="John Doe"]
 
"I couldn't agree with you more, Farryn."

John Doe's grin widened even further as the Eldorai shared that she, too, was disgusted by the cattle below. Then, one of his goons interrupted.

"There's no need to yell at our guests. To be honest, I really don't care if she's a lady or not. I mean, if I want to, I'll kill her all the same. Bahahaha! Well, you have been annoyingly loyal, henchman #1, so instead of outright splattering your brain matter all over my nice walls here, I'll give you an option. See that knife on that table? Get it and cut one of your fingers off. It can be any one, I'm not picky. Do that and I'll let you live."

The goon who had made the interruption paled tremendously. Doing this was the only way he was going to get out alive. He grabbed the knife, trying to steady his shaking hand, and chose his left pinky, then angled the blade down.

For a moment, screams of pain mixed in with the music of the nightclub, followed by insane laughter.

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
A little unsettled by the creepy man's words, Farryn wore a nonchalant expression. It seemed dangerous to allow the man who was a little short of a lunatic to read her.

"Ouch," she turned to watch as the man severed his pinky. No stranger to violence, the gore did not faze her, however, the mutt's pained scream combined with his master's insane laughter sent chills down her back and caused goosebumps to appear on her skin. Instinct warned her to get away from this man but Farryn was like a moth to a flame when it came to dangerous situations.

"It appears that you are a harsh master. I can respect that," she remarked and turned her gaze to the mad man who had invited her here.

Maintaining her nonchalant expression, Farryn crossed her legs. "So mister, why did you call me here?" she asked shifting the attention from the now nine-fingered man. "I'm sure you didn't call me here only to engage me in conversation," she added hoping she would not regret inquiring the reason for her summons.

This man was dangerous, there was no doubt about it.

[member="John Doe"]
 
"Harsh? Hmm, no. I like to think I'm more forgiving than most. I could've killed the poor shmuck right then and there! Instead I offered him mercy, at a price, of course. Besides, I think it's only fair."

John Doe gestured towards Farryn's missing hand, then smoothly wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing the female in closer.

"Well, my dear, I'm a businessman. Being a businessman, I'm always on the prowl for new talent, some new blood with great ideas that don't mind the constant risk of death! Bahaha!"

The crime lord noticed that the Eldorai had crossed her legs and licked his chapped lips lightly. It was a gesture intended to gauge a reaction. Would she pretend not to notice, letting the clown walk all over her, or would she fight back? He wasn't genuinely interested. He hadn't been interested in a woman for as long as he could remember, and not due to another preference, either.

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
"True," Farryn agreed as the man drew her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"A business man should know the appropriate way to act around potential new talent," the Eldorai broke free from his hold with a look of disgust. "I will not have you tarnish my honor as a warrior."

Although she had become tolerant of other species, it did not override her dislike for them and this man's actions offended her greatly. Had she not been outnumbered by the clown's pups, she would've surely slapped him. "I do not take kindly to your insult, sir."

[member="John Doe"]
 
The remaining henchman (who wasn't writhing in pain in the corner) cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders forward, expecting some sort of command to beat the ever-loving kark out of the woman who had just refused John Doe's company.

"You got some nerve talking to the boss like that, schutta."

"Honor? Warrior? Insult? Sir? She just called me a sir! Look at that! She's ready to work for me already!"

John Doe let an easy smile rest on his face. The Eldorai before him was either very brave or very stupid. Hadn't she just seen what he did to one of his men?

"Yes, she does have some nerve indeed. But is it just a thick skull? I mean, come on, Farryn. I just made a man sever his own finger because I felt like it! Do you think I'd have any qualms leaving your carcass hanging off of a bridge, or feeding you to a pack of ravenous gizka?! Someone needs to learn Nar Shaddaa etiquette 101."

"I think someone needs to be taught a lesson, sir."

"Now, now. It's our job as citizens of Nar Shaddaa to educate our fellow sentient beings on proper mannerisms and protocol when speaking to the Smuggler's Moon's aristocracy. So yes, I suppose a lesson is called for, henchman #2. Bring forth henchman #1!"

The goon was dragged to John Doe's feet, still bleeding and stammering out of shock.

"Now, I don't know your values or views on life, dear Farryn. All I know is that actions have consequences, whether intentional or unintentional. Therefore, you disrespecting me calls for action. Not against you, of course. Not yet, anyways. But this poor, slobbering heap...well, he's not as fortunate. For every further breach in protocol, I take another of the man's fingers. Starting now. I do hope you have the mercy and compassion deep within you to keep further outbursts to a minimum, otherwise I may find it hard to restrain myself. Now, then. Where were we? What do you do for a living? Don't mind his moans of pain. Bahahaha!"

A polished spat was placed on the pinkyless goon's head, although Ferryn was clearly able to see his face, looking up from the carpet of the VIP room, eyes pleading her not to endanger his life any further.

"Please..."

"Oh, shut up."

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
"Schutta? Women must absolutely love you," Farryn shot back at the henchman with a sarcastic tone and listened as the madman spoke, unfazed.

"So if I kark up, he suffers? That doesn't bother me," she glanced down at the bleeding man with a missing digit.

"You should have endeared yourself to me, worm," Farryn smirked and turned to the crime lord.

"Firstly, our friend over there," she gestured towards the wounded man "Has nine fingers left so I am going to start with kark you, kark you, kark you, kark you, kark you, kark you, kark you, kark you, and kark you. Now he should have none," the Eldorai shot Smuggler's Moon's aristocracy a defiant glare.

"Look Mr whatever your name is, I've been to hell and back so don't think you can scare me by playing the bogeyman or whatever you are doing." Like hell she was going to allow an offworlder much less a male one hold his power over her. That was something her pride would simply not allow.

"I will not stoop so low as to give in to your threats," Farryn growled. "If you want me to answer your questions, you must ask me again nicely," she sounded almost as if she was scolding a disobedient child.

[member="John Doe"]
 
"Wow. Definitely thick-skulled. I don't think I've ever met a sentient being so stupid. Do you want to die? Is that it? Bahahaha!"

John Doe was unfazed by the woman's inflated ego. She just needed some persuasion, that was all.

"Boss, I can't stand this anymore! Lemme gut her!"

"Relax. I'm fully in control of this situation. If I wanted, she'd be dead before she left the room. She clearly doesn't know who I am, do you, dear Farryn? No? Bahahaha!"

With a malicious glee, he aimed a long pistol at the Eldorai that he retrieved from inside his purple suit, but after a moment of thought, John Doe aimed it at the floor. Right at his blubbering henchman. A deafening shot filled the room, and there was now a fist-sized hole on the goon's head.

"You're lucky I can't kill you, my dear. This interview is over. Go waste another's time with your puffed-up self-image and bravado that would make a Neimodian pleased. Goodbye! Have a nice day! Hahahaha!"

With a final growl, his eyes burning like flaming emeralds, the clown hissed out of his wide, grinning mouth:

"And I'm John Doe, the galaxy's worst nightmare."

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
"Apathetic, not stupid or thick-skulled," Farryn corrected the madman as she watched another exchange between master and dog.

"You're a potential paycheck so I don't really care who you are so long as you have the credits," she sighed and watched as the man aimed a long pistol at her then the snivelling henchman, and shot him point blank.

"It was my time that was wasted," Farryn corrected the madman the second time in one night and rolled her eyes as she left the room. "Should you choose to call on me again, I ask that you pay me a non-refundable deposit next time so that I am compensated," she spoke without turning back to look at the man.

"nerf herder."

[member="John Doe"]
 
John Doe hesitated internally. Should he kill her? Perhaps. There was a great deal of disrespect from her, but at the same time, he kind of liked that. She had spunk.

"Henchman #2, I can't decide. Should I give her a job, or hang her by her entrails? Eh. Go and try to kill her. Bahahaha!"

The goon eagerly stepped off, unholstering a blaster pistol from his side. Farryn would find the VIP door locked, and a very angry individual coming for her head.

"I'm gonna kill you, schutta!"

A bolt of plasma hit the panel next to the Eldorai's head. Henchman #2 charged in, holstering his pistol and exchanging it for a very nasty-looking vibroblade, serrated at the edges for maximum rending.

"Let's see how she does martially..."

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
Finding the door to the VIP room to be locked, Farryn swung around to see the henchman charging towards her.

"I'm gonna kill you, schutta!" he yelled.

"How rude," Farryn frowned as a bolt of plasma narrowly missed her head.

Oh kark, she thought as she remained emotionless when she saw the serrated vibro-blade in the goon's hand. Unarmoured and with little more than a blaster and a vibro-blade of her own for protection, she maintained a composed appearance. The moment you let these monsters see your fear was the moment you've lost.

"Let's dance," she smirked, ready to play her trump card at a moment's notice. Although she was lonely without his company, incidents like these made her glad that she could use him as a secret weapon of sorts as a result.

[member="John Doe"]
 
"Dance? Hah! I'm gonna gut you!"

With a feint to the side, the henchman instead went for a blow straight through Farryn's gut, which would disembowel her if it connected. The goon wasn't toying around with her, giving her his best effort in an attempt to bring her lifeless body to his boss.

Things were about to get very harrowing...

[member="Farryn Loragwyn"]
 
"Quick, to the right," a disembodied voice whispered into Farryn's ear.

"Kark," Farryn cussed barely dodging the blow, then drew her own vibro-blade and threw it aiming it at the man's torso. Not quite used to throwing items with her left hand, she did not expect the knife to hit but to serve as a distraction as she prepared her next move.

Aware of her own weakness in comparison to the men - especially with her disability, the Eldorai knew she could win in an honourable fight against the goon. "Calix," she whispered. "I need you."

[member="John Doe"]
 

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