Have a Cigar

[Zef Halo]

UNSPECIFIED
UNSPECIFIED

A conference room had been booked in a random hotel in an unspecified location. The meeting would hold only two people. Vitor Avendahl and a man named Vraukt. The topic ?

Business. As usual.

The acolyte sat on the comfortable chair and played a game on his datapad awaiting the arrival of Vraukt. There was still five minutes till the meeting was supposed to start and Avendahl was curious whether his future business partner would be punctual or would he be late.

At least he had time to waste playing Clash of Mandalorian Clans.

​

[member="Varukt"] - great name​

 

[Kratacos]

In Vraukt's possession was a traditional weapon of the Sith species, one that didn't see much use anymore in the modern galaxy. Soldiers on the battlefield had heavier armours, more efficient, the Galaxy had changed a lot in the way of technology, but its people? They'd always remain the same, that much was taught to the young Pureblood.

His black hood remained up as he strode through the halls of the hotel. Multiple times hotel staff had given him curious looks, a tall hooded figure that they hadn't seen before present in their hotel? But he was causing no problems, so there was no security to worry about.

The thing however that drew curious glances however, must've been the Sith lanvarok in his arms. Its type of weaponry was much too old for the common person to tell what it was, and then he stopped just in front of the door that he was meant to pass through.

​

He lifted his arm, a crimson hand slipping out of the overbearing cloak and then he knocked.

[member="Vitor Avendahl"]

 

[Zef Halo]

A knock on the door signaled Vitor that the time for games were over and he quickly quit the game before he tapped the button beneath the table. The door opened automatically to reveal cloaked figure that stood at its threshold like a harbinger of death. For a second, Avendahl wondered if he was seeing things. A cloaked and hooded figure was not something he expected. Paranoia did not run through his veins as the Force told him of no malicious intent behind that figure.

"Vraukt, I assume ? Someone told me the name we had on the list was with a typo." Avendahl glanced at his datapad to see the name written as Varukt. Terrible. "The name's Vitor Avendahl. Please have a seat and let's begin."

"What do you need done ?"

[member="Varukt"]​

 

[Kratacos]

The door swung open, and the crimson being stepped through the threshold, reaching up to his dark hood, he cast it from his head, moving with a certain form of grace that suggested he wasn't the brute that he appeared to be. Reaching with both hands to take lanvarok off of his arm, he was forced to throw the cloak back and up his wrist, showcasing multiple scars across the flesh of his right arm to the sole occupant of the room.

That is, if he could tell the difference between a Pureblood's ridges and scars on their flesh.

He stepped to the table, placing the ancient weapon down before he unclasped the cloak that was around his throat.

It went across the back of the chair before he sat down, an almost dead look in those orange eyes as he stared at the human looking being before him. Though, he thought nothing of him, not anything that could be perceived as hostile anyway.

Talking.

"Modernize this," he put simply, his throat sounding dry thought it was anything but. It was guttural sounding, evidence of him being unused to speaking the Galactic Basic tongue.

[member="Vitor Avendahl"]

 

[Zef Halo]

A Sith Pureblood. Surprising.

He glared at the man inspecting his alien features. The acolyte had never seen one face to face. Ever. The redskinned humanoid approached the table calmly and revealed what was hidden beneath his cloak. A Sith Lanvarok.

Vraukt unwrapped it from his wrist and set it up before the acolyte. Avendahl took it in his hands and investigated the crude weapon in his hand. Not many had seen the Lanvaroks and lived to tell the tale. Odd and ancient weapons used by the Sith. Vitor only knew about them after seeing the weapon in action in the hands of Thengil. The Cathar had been brutally efficient with the use of this archaic weapon in the raid of the Jedi temple on Yutan.

"What can I expect in return ?" Vitor turned his eyes from the weapon to the sulfuric colored eyes of the Pureblood in front of him.

[member="Varukt"]​

 

[Kratacos]

Finally.

Straight to the point.

That's how Vraukt liked to do business, though his business tended to be in the form of killing and following orders no matter how they came. Though typically, it just involved killing, so he never really had to do anything outside of his comfort zone as of yet.

The Pureblood's orbs glowed brightly as the man inspected it. He seemed familiar enough with it, perhaps he'd seen one in the past? Who knew, certainly not Vraukt, he didn't possess the abilities to read minds, he barely read emotions and intentions properly.

"What do you want?"

Straight to the point, no time would be wasted here. He was a Pureblood, who knew if he was being watched?

[member="Vitor Avendahl"]

 

[Zef Halo]

"Knowledge." Vitor quickly replied as he laid down the Lanvarok on the table.

The Sith as a force user sect were named after the Purebloods, that was what he knew. What he did not know was the details, the useful details that gave the Sith the ability to wage galactic conquest one after the another, eras after eras. The knowledge of the Purebloods was lost in history, or at least the history that was available now thanks to the Gulag plague.

Perhaps, Vitor would be able to gain something very secretive and useful from this deal. He quite underestimated today's meeting and the deal that was about to be struck. Now he realized how wrong he had been.

This was like a winning lottery ticket.

[member="Varukt"]​

 

[Kratacos]

That was unexpected.

Typically people sought money, power, aide in some quest where they could gain even more power. This man wanted knowledge. It begged the question as to why.

How come [member="Vitor Avendahl"] wasn't like him and just accepted the way things were? Why did they even have to deal in the first place? Vitor led a company though.

He wasn't a man to serve.

Not for long anyway, Vraukt could see that.

Vraukt knew many like that.

So he obliged.

"You're in luck," he said, those thinned out lips spreading apart into an a wholehearted grin. "I know much." He just tended to keep it to himself.

 

[Zef Halo]

Silence engulfed the room before the Pureblood was able to give a satisfactory answer. Vague, but satisfactory. He had agreed on the deal and Vitor was a happy man. He had certainly hit the jackpot here.

"Much knowledge of your race had been lost to the Gulag plague. Nonetheless, as a representative of your race you are bound to know it. To an extent, of course." The acolyte began and then continued clarifying more his intent. "Your race has been known not only for the warriors it has produced but for the sharp minds that have been born. It is of the latter I have more use of than of the former. The minds of the Sith Purebloods is what I desire not their muscle. If that clears up the picture on what I am seeking."

The arms dealer hoped the tall Pureblood before him would understand and oblige rather than ask of him to elaborate more.

[member="Varukt"]​

 

[Kratacos]

He seeks the minds of the Pureblood Race. Does he expect me to offer him our Kissai?

For the Kissai were the Sorcerors of the ancient caste system. The Massassi were their warriors and protectors, while the Zuguruks were their engineers who fashioned much of their structures and weapons. Immediately, Vraukt's mind had gone to the image of the Kissai, the true thinkers of the Sith Empires of old.

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again.

He was missing something.

He is Sith. Not a warrior. Not a sorceror.

Not yet anyway.

"...The Zuguruks," he said in the ancient Sith language, his throat forming the words perfectly as he spoke them. "Engineers, you want." He nodded his head slowly. It wasn't often Vraukt found himself negotiating. He was finding that he was enjoying himself, at least, a little. After all, the point was to get to the objective, and the objective was a personalized Lanvarok.

"And so you shall have them."

A part of him wanted to know why, but Vraukt was a servant, and didn't ask questions, even if in the Sith Empire they were of the same rank. Vraukt let things be as they were. He was content with his own internal theorizing.

[member="Vitor Avendahl"]

 

[Zef Halo]

"Zuguruks." Vitor nodded, his accent evident. "And your language."

If a Sith Pureblood was able to leave his isolationist nature behind to meet an arms dealer for the purpose of modernizing the crude weapons known as Lanvaroks, then there was something going on in the Caldera. Whatever it was, the acolyte had learned from experience the importance of crushing linguistic barriers and how it helped in the long run. Especially in business.

Moreover, the Zuguruks would provide substantial support in his project in the Vorzyd system and also help him greatly in his quest for ancient Sith knowledge.

"Deal ?" He extended his hand at the Pureblood.

​

[member="Varukt"]​

 

[Kratacos]

Language.

Was there a snake in the room?

Vraukt's hiss was loud, and he tightened his jaw as he thought about it. An outsider directing his people was fine, begrudgingly so. The Pureblood species respected power. If you had it, and you used it, you would have your followers, but to also speak their language?

Vraukt hissed again.

Was the lanvaroks truly worth it?

His eyebrow stalks moved closer together, transforming his emotionless features into that of a frown.

But then again, it wasn't Vraukt's business. The chances of him having to meet [member="Vitor Avendahl"] in the matters of business would likely be slim. He was content in that affair, not that he disliked the man. He didn't even know the man, he didn't care enough to think any more, or less of him. He just... Existed.

Vraukt's gaze dropped to the mans extended hand.

His own crimson hands remained in his lap. He glanced down, and then back up to the human.

"Deal." He said.

He didn't shake hands, with anyone.

Perhaps there was a vein of elitism in his blood after all...