Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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I of the Storm

A few years ago . . .

[ THEME ]

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Word of mouth. Unmarked location. That is how the meeting would go down. Lysle was flanked by his ever-present twin Herglic guards. The chosen location was hundreds of levels below the highest cloudcutters and ziggurauts of Nar Shaddaa, below the surface of the planet. Where mellenium of constant construction, demolition and reconstruction had created a plethora of pancaked buildings at the very bottom of this decaying world.

Lysle walked along a hallway, his Herglics falling in behind him from a distance. Light shed through holes in the permacrete wall, the connecting hallway ahead was illuminated in blood red. There two Ravens awaited him. He approached, and conversation was short. Representatives of the Hutt Cartel had arrived, as well as the Zan Consortium and even a delegate of the Black Suns.

This is how it had been going for a while. Lysle had started a war, and it was no simple thing. He had dragged a Black Sun crime lord by his teeth and shot a hole through his cranium; it was a very real threat. Though the Black Suns had not expected such an adversary. The Red Ravens were already dug in, and their seemingly endless hordes of disorganized pirates clashed against the militaristic fleets of the Suns.

The delegate here was to call for a ceasefire, as ever, no doubt. The Hutt Cartels wanted in on the Dragon Palace Casino business. And the Zann Consortium likely wanted to sell guns. They would all be denied, the Red Ravens were loyal only to themselves. But Lysle was not rude enough to hear them out, and it helped to quell any rebellion on Nar Shaddaa against Raven interests and holdings.

Nar Shaddaa was Republic territory, neither the Ravens nor the Suns yet had a grip on this planet. But the Republic was struggling to hold it as full blown urban warfare exploded on nigh every sector and district. It was anarchy out there, but when wasn't it? Lysle moved into the room and found himself a place to lean against a wall, a flock of Ravens stood in front of him as his security, and his Herglics fell in on either side.

There were more than usual. This time local crime bosses, king pins and pimps had arrived from all other the planet. They weren't just any upstart, they were wealthy and influential, on a continental scale, much unalike to the galactic influence the Hutts, Suns and Ravens had. The room was abuzz with chatter, but it had quietened down when Lysle entered. In this period of time, the Red Ravens were winning the war, and the Suns were about to be crushed. And Lysle was the most influential and powerful crime lord in modern times. For now.
 
Fleeting whispers drawn up from the darkest depths of Nar Shaddaa spun a siren song, the enticing melody calling out to the select few who made their mark on the scarred, charred and mutilated piece of rock. The invitation itself was brief, spoken from the lips of an elderly gunslinger who'd roamed the labyrinth of alleyways and sectors looking for those worthy enough for its call. It was a rite of passage, a ghastly confirmation that a reputation had to be built in blood to be recognized amidst the corruption and crime that pervaded the endless rivulets of filth and death that covered the moon's face. The word was spoken and so the cogs in the great machine slowly began to churn, summoning the few who could descend into the depths of hell and meet the devil himself.

Amidst the flock of accomplished kingpins, mobsters, master smugglers and a rotund Hutt or two was a girl of nineteen, shrouded in the collective shadow of the monsters who heeded the call of Nar Shaddaa's depths. Slim, pale and alone Ariadne glowered in the darkness, her frame perched atop a rusted durasteel column suspended by chains and the groaning balcony overhead, a perfect little nook to gaze out at the cacophony of noise that flooded the room. She was no whore nor was she a bodyguard, she was not in league with the Black Suns or the Red Ravens or the Zann Consortium, she did not arrive with an army flanking her side or a droid to watch her back. The girl did not exist, she was a shadow, a figment of fiction used to keep the local mobsters in line, or so they believed.

But even in the darkness of night Ari could hear the trembling whispers, hear the meager fluttering of hearts and the hushed gossip that riddled the southern district of Nar Shaddaa. The 'Baroness' was real, dotting the streets with fresh blood and mangled corpses. No one knew who, no one knew why but they knew she existed and that she needed to be feared. Superstition was a powerful tool and the girl reaped its rewards, over and over again.

Alas, utterances of her violent ventures were stifled in the murmurings of the meeting. Voices and words collided in a tempest of sound, from curses muttered behind closed teeth to uproarious jeers that rattled the very foundations of the meeting place. She could hear it all. Ragged breaths, the growling of stomachs, footfalls enveloped in an army of steps and then...silence.

Peering down at the swarm of men, women and aliens the girl caught sight of a lone figure, his entrance the reason for the peculiar lack of sound. Handsome and tall, flanked by a pack of Ravens and two ugly looking Herglic guards he remained pressed against a wall, an almost impassive look painted on his near-immaculate features. The man was young and yet completely...ordinary. No big guns, no fancy armour, no sabers or swords or daggers and yet he held the room's attention in a vice grip, the mass of murderers incapacitated by his presence.

Who was this man?

The young Baroness' curiosity would be quenched soon enough, she knew that much at least and as she watched the preceding down below she half expected no one to speak. Why even the Hutts were silenced for a moment, which the girl found particularly amusing. Someone would begin, why else would the most decrepit and deadly be called down here? Why else would their audience be required other than to witness history being made.


[member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]
 
The room exploded back into noise once more. Deals were being made among the lower crime rings; the high rollers marched towards Lysle. The Black Suns were first to speak, "The Underlord has requested a ceasefire before we make a mockery of your syndicate, Mr. Rigger. You may have won at Barab I, but we will not forgive your transgression if you persist." The Hutts laughed, their bellies jiggling in a way that seemed to defy physics, one of them slithered in front and spoke with a booming voice to the Suns delegate, "Smeeleeya whao toupee upee! Bona nai kachu."

"He's right," Lysle said. "You Suns keep coming back, time and time again. Every time it is the same request, every time it is the same threat. I'm starting to think you Suns are defecating in your pants. You know what is coming, because I am not stopping until I have what I want." The delegate stood silent for a moment, seething in fury, he roared, "The Underlord will put a price on your head so large every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. You won't be able to go near a civilized system ever again." The two Herglics stood forward at this threat, and the delegate didn't back down at their imposing sight.

Lysle waved the delegate off, and he stormed out of the room with a contingent of curses. The Hutt representatives began to talk, and the Consortium was trying to get a word in, but Lysle quickly redirected them to his secretary. He could handle whatever questions, requests and demands they had. Right now, there were few willing to make demands, and soon not even the Republic would stand up against the Ravens. Lysle had been in talks with the One Sith for some time, and an alliance was about to be officially documented.

Lysle relaxed, listening to the discussions but otherwise not taking part. His eyes wandered the crowd, and his drifting glances would suddenly find themselves fixated on a peculiar woman. He stared right at Ariadne and curled his finger twice, indicating that she come towards him. He couldn't say why exactly this woman took his curiosity, but for whatever reason that was, he would find out.



[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]
 
It was spectacle, watching the throngs of suited monsters clamouring for the attention of the lone man. Anyone not engaged with striking a deal with the young man returned to their hushed dealings and conversations, the growing hum of the collective voices filling the space with a static growl. These were men of murder and madness, formed by the sins of business and pleasure. They were the seeds that survived the waste of Nar Shaddaa, each owning a share of the cold hard flesh that made up the cursed moon. Whether it be by force or by inheritance the claims they each possessed were measured by their power and their ambition, factors which could grant them a golden throne or an early death depending on how shrewd they were in their dealings. Meetings like this tended to establish the current power balance between each tribe and gang and it was clear, through simple observation, that the young an held sway in more ways than one.

Ariadne watched on in silence, peering over the lip of the pillar as she listened in on the frustrated stream of cussing and cursing escaped the lips of a Black Sun representative. The turf war between the gangs was common knowledge and the pale skinned young woman thought it particularly entertaining to see underworld politics take place. She knew of the 'Underlord', the shrouded figure who guided her hand in tracking down several unlucky individuals. Whether he was doing it to gain her trust the half Firrerreon did not know, in fact she did not care, the deaths of those who wronged her was enough to keep the figure relatively close by.

Even if she did not know who he was.

Shaking her thoughts of her mysterious benefactor, the burgeoning baroness found herself tracing the movements of the peculiar man. It was clear he was part of the Red Ravens, that motley bunch that was stirring trouble throughout each corner of the moon. If he truly was the leader then his affect on everyone else made sense, they feared him. It seemed odd, for someone so young to have that much power but then the girl reminded herself that she too held some sway over the men she let live. Stifling a grin, Ari kept her gaze locked onto the handsome Raven before having the act reciprocated. Eyes met across the crowd, a purposeful stare that held the girl in place before the eventual tug of a finger.

The girl felt her lips curl in momentary disgust, the mere thought of being summoned like some whore irking her far beyond the stench of the Hutts that constricted what little space was available in the pit. Clenching her jaw, Ari darted her gaze across the flock of armed men and women that surrounded her summoner. Was this be some great hazing? Exhaling, the young woman effortlessly hopped off her perch before snaking her way through the odourous crowd of much larger individuals. Yanking a Zann representative from out of her way, the girl slipped through the bustling crowd and finally stood face to face with the young man.

"You think me some whore you can summon on a whim?" She uttered coolly, voice betraying nothing as slender arms crossed together. Auburn eyes stared into his own, ears listening to the sound of his pulse as she waited for the man to respond.

Ariadne knew the man was powerful but she was not afraid, not at all.

[member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]
 
[ +THEME+ ]

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Steel eyes focused on hers. Silent and violent. He saw the disgust on her face, yet she submitted to his demand. He approached her, meeting half-way, through his guards who kept the delegates occupied. The Herglics did not follow, but their beady eyes did not stray far from Lysle.

The representative of the Zann Consortium looked to reach something from his belt as the woman shoved him aside. It was an open declaration of a death wish to shove aside crime lords, but a stern look from Lysle paled the face of the Zann dealer and he slunk back to his private dealings.

"You think me some whore you can summon on a whim?" She uttered coolly, voice betraying nothing as slender arms crossed together. She locked eyes on his, and he remained silent. He was weighing her up, his gaze falling over her body and measuring her. His heart beat quickened.

He would not apologize to her and inform her he did not intend her to feel like a whore. No, that was not the way he operated. He didn't apologize. If you wanted to rule with an iron fist in the underground, you didn't want anyone to think you could be wrong. You had to be right, every time.

In fact, he stirred her. He was curious, he wanted to see who this woman was. "Yes," he answered her, and then demanded "What is your name?" He kept his arms at his side. He had noted the folding of her arms; a subconscious action of the human brain that mean't one was trying to be protective of themselves. Whether this was true or not for her; he made a show that he had nothing to hide or protect, and so his arms remained unfurled, and at his sides.


[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]
 
[SIZE=10.5pt]"Who is that? Another raven whore?"[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]"He thinks he can grab any girl he wants...and look at her, completely smitten."[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]"Did you see that? Did you see what she did to Zann representative?”[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Ariadne could hear it all, every scathing curse and rambling theory that fled the mouths of the individuals who’d been paying attention to her little summoning. Utterances and murmurings filled the young woman’s mind, like gravel scraping at the base of her skull the words droned on and on till she made the decisive factor to ignore them for the sight in front of her. Auburn eyes flickered across the flock of ravens and to those they denied, the men who’d been barred access to the young man shooting what could only be described as petty leers and sneers as the young woman blankly stared at the lone figure in front of her. [/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Whether this was an intimidation tactic or some unnecessary attempt at wooing her did not affect the young woman. Ariadne remained stoic and still, focusing her senses on the briefest stutter of his heartbeat, a peculiar little moment which offered her the faintest portrait of the man who called upon her.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]He was nothing more than a human.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]Blinking at his brisk reply, the young woman found herself cocking her head before glancing at the creatures surrounding her. None were friends. They each represented a slab of land on this cursed rock and were but mere obstacles for the real monsters who scoured the scarred veins of Nar Shaddaa. Was the young man a monster? Her instincts told her that the most cunning of predators were often the most subtle, or in this case, alluring. How could someone who inspired the hushed whisperings of the many that filled this place be so untainted? Where were his scars and warpaint, the favored weapon or his token pet on a leash? What made this man such a threat that not even the severely underwhelming Zann representative would heed his glare?[/SIZE]

[SIZE=10.5pt]”Zen.” She uttered tersely, sizing the man up before quirking the edge of her lip. A grin perhaps? He could take it however he wanted. ”And you? Or do I have to squeeze your name out of this motley crew of yours?” The young woman purred quietly, raising a dark brow before offering him the briefest of smirks. Fanged teeth glistened behind crimson lips before disappearing behind the supple curtain of painted flesh.[/SIZE]



[member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]
 
A lustful glance, he watched admiringly. ”Zen,”she uttered tersely, sizing the man up before quirking the edge of her lip. ”And you? Or do I have to squeeze your name out of this motley crew of yours?” His lips curled into a smirk, and he almost laughed. "My dear," he said slowly, keeping contact with her eyes. He saw her fanged teeth make a brief appearance before disappearing behind that flesh of rose. "Anyone here would be willing to tell you. I'd make a poor leader if no one knew my name. The names Lysle Rigger."

Lysle Rigger was not a commonly known name, but the more notorious 'Lysle of the Hydian Way' was certainly one. His endeavours along the Hydian Way had racked him up a high bounty and subsequent warrant for his arrest, and his recent endeavors in Hutt Space had only ever increased the authorities desire for his head.

The hushed whispers returned to normal, rather than discussing the odd meeting between the president of the Ravens and this other woman, they returned to business. The sound was like a sweeping tide. "I'm curious as to why you're here, you don't seem like the usual type," he took a brief look to observe the others in the room, "But alas, my time will soon grow short, and there are important matters to be dealt with." He held up his wrist, yanked back his sleeve.

A thinly wrist-mounted datapad the size of a palm was attached around the flesh. His fingers tapped away, and then he wrenched it out of its socket. "Here," he offered the datapad, "My contact details are on here if you ever want to find some work." He had purged vital files, not that there were many. He regularly went through datapads. "Or if you want to simply sit at dinner and have some cheap wine. Nothing tastes better than cheap wine."


[member="Ariadne Van'Shelaq"]
 

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