Kairos [Corporate Summit]

[Arken Lussk]

Kairos​

KAIROS – (n.) The perfect, delicate, crucial moment, the fleeting rightness of time and place that creates the opportune atmosphere for action, words or movement.​

​

A still image of the 5th floor of The Tower Shield.​

​

Arken exhaled sharply.

This was his time for movement. For far too long had his newly birthed company delved into their science, their art of creating inventions for people. Strangely enough, Jarvis liked to remind him that it had only been a scant four standard months since it's inception, though it felt far longer than that to Arken. Perhaps the sleepless nights sat in front of monitors and viewscreens, cups of caf strewn about, had finally taken a toll on him.

He would've claimed he worked himself to the bone but very little of his work was actually the technical aspect. To his displeasure, being a CEO was a lot different than he'd expected - and he'd been schooled once or twice already by some rivals of his. Anxiety, nervousness and a plethora of other negative emotions had haunted him for weeks on end. However, now that they'd finally managed to get some products out on the market, including their pilot software Aegis SH13LD, things seemed to be turning out better than he'd expected.

And with that in mind, networking was something else on his agenda. You couldn't get very far in this galaxy when you were only distributing and marketing to a single world or sector. Arken wanted to expand, to provide more services and create more things, to help make the galaxy a better place than what it was before. That was what Aegis specialized in: making life better and easier for people, often through electronic means.

Something touched his shoulder.

Gasping, he instinctively flinched and nearly dropped an entire cup of steaming caf onto his lap. Thankfully, the Force was on his side today and unpracticed reflexes managed to deftly catch it.

"Don't scare me like that," Arken grunted, "You know I hate that."

Jarvis wasn't fazed. His mechanical hand still rested upon his shoulder. "Report: The summit and convention is beginning in the next half hour. Nobody has arrived yet, master."

Another exasperated sigh. "Really? I sent out that HoloNet invitation a few weeks ago. I honestly hoped someone would at least show up and check us out." The young man waved his hand at the executive lounge, "I even cleaned this place up for them."

The droid seemed content to merely stand there, offering no comfort or solace to the young man. He removed his hand.

"I'll wait a little longer, I guess. Let the boys down at the first floor know we're still expecting guests."

Gingerly sipping his caf, Arken combed a few fingers through his hair. Clad in casual business attire, he figured some khaki slacks and a simple long-sleeved button-up were fine for the occasion. This was nothing too formal, he decided. Just a get together for businessbeings to meet and greet, display their wares to one another, and quite possibly come to a few concrete dealings with one another.

For those who would be arriving during this time, an Interstellar-class starport happened to only be a single block away which was capable of containing a wide variety of vessels. After a short and brisk walk, one would come to the entrance of the The Tower Shield. Minimal but reasonable security checks ensue and then the executives are sent on their way to the fifth floor. It is here that the real magic will happen. Refreshments, a breathtaking gaze, comfortable furniture, and numerous electronic terminals for displaying wares and services had been installed just days prior were seated here.

((OOC: This thread is completely open to anyone who's the executive or of similar standing of a corporation/company. There's no real intent for much violence or aggression in this thread but more so corporate dealings, may they be benign or not. Have fun!))

[member="Sila"], [member="Dunames Lopez"], [member="Antherion"], [member="Savitor Draay"], [member="Nicademus Blith"], [member="The Slave"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

So the Tower Shield was just a block away of the freshly-rebuilt spaceport on Serenno? At least she was grateful that Star Tours was expedient in getting the spaceport rebuilt, and that the Serenno authorities were sincere in letting them do the work. After this adventure on Pax Insul, Dunames decided to use the summit to enhance its sphere of influence around former Primeval-land, while still waiting on the results for the bidding for the rights of rebuilding the destroyed spaceport or whatever stage of the Mirial saga it is in. Said Mirial spaceport is, despite the diminutive traffic handled, the main symbol of the Primeval's spaceport-destroying plague of years past (even though it destroyed more than just spaceports). Upon arriving at the Tower Shield, wearing her formal business attire, she realizes that [member="Arken Lussk"] may have invited a few more companies that could use Star Tours' services. In turn, she hopes that she can get stuff done with Aegis Systems.

"Your identification, please?" the security guard asked.

"Dunames Lopez, Star Tours"

And then Dunames would be guided to the fifth floor of the Tower Shield after the security guards checked against the manifest of guests. Which included [member="Sila"], [member="Antherion"] (with whom she got a deal for the resort on Luminoss), [member="Nicademus Blith"], [member="The Slave"] and [member="Savitor Draay"].

 

[Arctorius]

Savitor walked to the front of the building and entered it. "Savitor Draay, Vanguard Industries. I need to go to the summit area." He was waved up to the fifth floor he saw [member="Dunames Lopez"] and the person who was hosting the event, [member="Arken Lussk"] were the only people to have arrived so far. He wasn't too late then. Hopefully this would raise publicity for his company.

 

[Arage Bao]

​...Czerka...​

​

Choose progress, choose Czerka.​

​

In one of the corners of the large fifth floor three neat tables were set up.

But only one of them was important for this particular moment.

It was the table which had a little sign attached to it saying 'Waste Disposal'. Said table had a Trandoshan sitting behind it with a big, pleasant smile that showed far too many sharp teeth, while wearing an immaculate suit that was most definitely not comfortable. He was currently exchanging dirty looks with the occupant of the second Czerka table, a blue Twi'lek who was giving him the stink eye.

Her sign said 'Prospecting', but nobody truly cared about that. It might be more flashy and trendy than good old fashioned waste disposal, but there was nothing more integral to your station than having functional filtration systems and waste extraction systems.

"Gotz dat rightz." Dalan mumbled to himself, before flashing another passerby a beautiful smile... which quickly turned into a frown as the elderly gentleman careened over to the prospecting table. Not surprising considering the Twi'lek had jiggled in his general direction. This was completely unfair in Vaine's opinion, if he had tried to jiggle he probably would have been arrested.

But it was fine.

Already Dalan had signed two minor subcontracting jobs that would land him a healthy commission.

[member="Savitor Draay"] | [member="Dunames Lopez"] | [member="Arken Lussk"]​

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Antherion walked along, lips pressed together slightly with a trace of indignation. He, frankly, was uncertain as to whether he should be flattered that Luxarc was being considered such that he was on the short list for this startup, especially given his own brand of business was only marginally related to his host's, but he also chafed internally that it was necessary for him to fly about the galaxy and attend such meetings, a party thrown for people to line up and help benefit the other while pecking for what they could get from any deals struck.

I have lost so much, the cyborg reflects, tracing a line with his fingertip on the metal curvature of neck before adjusting the collar slightly to conceal it. Not that it could be hid, of course. Long sleeves and a cloak to hide the scar tissue, gloves, all that was out the window the moment he opened his mouth to let the synthesizer speak for him.

His clothes, naturally, were rich befitting his station, if conservative. He favored rich, dark purples in his fabrics, though some silver threads yet shimmered. He had raised a barrier around himself to mask the disquieting presence of the Dark Side that usually enveloped him.

He had apprehensions, as well, about appearing on Serenno, in the territory of a government that had tried twice already to execute him. That being said, it was difficult to filter on a planetary scale for individuals. Moreover, by appearing in official capacity as a diplomatic envoy for the Sith Empire, a rising regional power, he was able to lobby for a degree of immunity -- an attack on his person would be treated as an attack on the governance of the Sith.

He nodded to the security guard as he was waved through rather quickly, thinking in the lift ride up on how soon, such scraping and kowtowing would never be necessary for him again. He had lost much, yes, but he would take it back. Back by war, by magic, by coercion...

...or in this case, by business.

| [member="Dunames Lopez"] | [member="Arken Lussk"] | [member="Savitor Draay"] |​

 

[Thaddeus Wyse]

If there was one thing that Skairus disliked it was this new job of his.

The Zareca Cartel paid well, paid often and didn't skimp out on the most essential benefits either, but if there was one thing that the Tuk'ata had never once considered before it was the assignment he had been given from up high. There he was, standing in his leather armor - weapons handed in at the door and would only be released once the day was over - and handing out pamphlets to the people entering the fifth floor. It was obviously not an information brochure for the Zareca Cartel itself, that would have been stupid and the best way to get yourself arrested.

But there were always the people who were interested in less than legal commodities.

They always hunted for the secret code phrases whispered in the shadowy corners of the alleyways. This time around Zareca, under a different pseudonym, was selling their services as bodyguards and enforcers.

If you were setting up camp in Nar Shaddaa or some other seedy planet and needed some muscle? They were the people you wanted at your shoulder. Catch words and advertisements like that.

It was boring and Skai wondered when Vodan - an ursine - would show up to relieve him of his post.

He could smell food.

[member="Savitor Draay"] | [member="Dunames Lopez"] | [member="Arken Lussk"]​

 

[Darth Empyrean]

The Slave had heard of this corporate summit through a long line of contacts, something he perhaps didn’t fit in directly but something he intended to make use of. What he found as he explored what it meant to be free, was that everything relied on the synthetic lifeblood that was the Galactic Credit. If he were to succeed, he needed more.

Always more.

Today, what he sought was connections with power players throughout the galaxy that sought something less conventional. He was slowly becoming an expert in regards to creating genetic abominations and eldritch demiurges that sought little more that what their master desired. In a sense, he offered to them the perfect employees, the perfect lovers, and the greatest asset they could ever hope for. A workforce that meant little more than flesh in the eyes of its beholder.

All he needed to find was the few who held less in what most would consider morality. To him however, he needed to find someone rich in common sense. Who wouldn’t want an army of workers that did nothing but work, asked for nothing but food and drink? An idiot, that’s who.

He grinned wide as the guards looked at him with cocked brows. Beneath both his arms was a human male, and a zeltron woman. They were obviously heavily drugged, but stuck to his side like a child and their parent; but their obvious intoxication didn’t go without notice by the personnel at the gate.

“I think you need to lea-”, the first began, a hand slowly coming up to stop his approach.

It met a quick force, freezing in its path as the other guard realized what had happened. The Force crept through their veins, igniting neurons and signalling for compliance with what he demanded. His words were slow, commanding, carefully placed to them both as he pulled sunglasses from his face to reveal heavily yellowed eyes.

“Open. The Door.”

The guards simply abided, dominated by his aura. As he passed, they moved back to their prior positions, never the wiser as to what had become of him. He passed by the various groupings and workers before moving up to the fifth floor, both of his companions treated like dogs as he kept a wide grin. Time to make some friends.

 

[Arken Lussk]

Slowly but surely his guests began to trickle in. Security personnel notified him almost immediately, relaying their arrival through comlink or word of mouth to Jarvis. Arken was quite apt to welcoming most of them in personally, displaying that youthful and cheery smile of his before leading them along to their electronic booths to display their wares and services or directing them to the refreshments table. As even more businessbeings came in, the atmosphere became a little lighter as idle chatter about galactic politics, gravball, and the stock market erupted almost immediately.

With the wave of a hand, several viewscreens on the walls behind the booths would display either HoloNet ads for other companies that couldn't be represented, or streamed the live footage of the gravball super bowl occurring all the way over on Corellia. A casual atmosphere and setting was what he wanted. Just for people to co-mingle and get their business on. Buy a little, sell a little. Shake the pot some.

As for Arken, he'd already been discussing the various deployments of his new police droid models. Most were corporate interests contracted to planetary governments although a few more seemed rather... shady. Be that as it may, that didn't make the young CEO waver in the slightest. He'd half a thought to stroll on over to speak with [member="Skairus"], but his little operation looked a little too dirty. His personnel had sent word up of a walking dog-thing of sorts that seemed to carry an entire arsenal on his very person.

Security looked like their thing. Or at least another word for security. Perhaps he'd speak to them later, after most of the representatives had either departed or drank a little too much of the Shushugaunt brandy he'd filled the little bar with.

Rather, the young heir made his way for one of his newest arrivals. [member="Antherion"]. Splendent in royal purples and indigos with silver lining. Always with the silver lining, Arken thought. However, he approached the man with a friendly grin and extended his hand.

"Welcome to the Tower Shield." Arken beamed, "Arken Lussk, CEO of Aegis Systems. I'll be your host this evening so if there's anything I can do for you, please let myself or one of my esteemed employees know."

Another being came in - or rather three. Two of them felt strange. A ripple in the Force. He could feel it in them, dull and dreary, numb and dazed. Inebriated. Eyes narrowed for a second and he glanced to the side, catching the photoreceptor of Jarvis. There was no need for a curt nod or a hand signal. They'd been together for far too long.

[member="Dunames Lopez"], [member="Savitor Draay"], [member="Dalan Vaine"], [member="The Slave"]

 

[Dunames Lopez]

Dunames immediately recognized the table of Luxarc Pharmaceuticals, the very company that sold some in-house pharmaceutical production facilities for the Luminoss resort, run by @Antherion. But Antherion did not look like the Antherion she met back on Luminoss. Meanwhile, Star Tours' two tables comprise shipping, passenger transportation. The one person she would like to meet, [member="Arken Lussk"], is somewhere else on the floor; she looked around the floor for companies that were represented. Vanguard Industries with [member="Savitor Draay"], [member="Dalan Vaine"] from Czerka Mining and Industrial, [member="Skairus"] offering private security services from the looks of it, and also a being called [member="The Slave"]. Perhaps I can strike a deal with CMI regarding Mirial: that's the symbolical centerpiece of all the spaceports the Primeval destroyed because of the symbolic value of the atrocities committed there, more than for any real importance in the galactic traffic grid, she thought. She thus promptly returned to the table where Dalan was, approaching him and extending a handshake to the Trandoshan, despite Star Tours being a commercial rival in the waste management industry.

"Dunames Lopez, from Star Tours. I'm here concerning a business opportumity pertaining to the construction of a spaceport on Mirial" she told Dalan.

 

[Arage Bao]

[member="Antherion"] | [member="Savitor Draay"] | [member="Dunames Lopez"] | [member="Arken Lussk"] | [member="The Slave"]​

​

A glint of hope and opportunity showed itself in those beady pitch-black eyes of the Trandoshan.

Humanoid female wandering up to hiz booth, instead of any of the others and this spelled interest in his wares. This was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him within the last ten minutes and he was going to enjoy every moment-

"Dunames Lopez, from Star Tours. I'm here concerning a business opportumity pertaining to the construction of a spaceport on Mirial."

The self-satisfied grin shot to the twi'lek Czerka employee behind the other booth suddenly died at its crib. He realized that Lopez had made a mistake, instead of wishing to discuss with him the finer workings of sanitation and the disposal of waste she wished to discuss construction with him. What did Dalan look like? An engineer, some kind of sentient with a doctorate in architecture?

No, his business was garbage and he was very proud of that.

But it was business for Czerka and as such Vaine coughed, before carefully tipping the sign on his table saying 'Waste Disposal & Sanitation' with a talon of his.

Then his attention went to the wookiee employee sitting behind desk number #3. It said Industrial Construction and was exactly the figure that Lopez would need for this project of hers. Even when his cold lizard hard died a slow death as she walked away from his booth. All he could see was the smug expression on the twi'lek, as she noticed he lost another client to the wiles of construction and engineering.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

After realizing that she made a mistake, Dunames changed tables after being pointed out by [member="Dalan Vaine"] that she was at the wrong table. Waste management was Dalan's domain, whereas the Wookiee was the main point of contact for getting the project on Mirial done. Meran Mechanics prefab stuff was just fine for most projects of Mirial's magnitude, but for Mirial proper, Dunames knew that it was better for the project to rely on more... personalized building. To the eyes of the galactic transportation business, Mirial held a symbolism normally reserved to the great spaceports of the galaxy that were major players in the galactic traffic grid. Much like Cademimu-Flashpoint or Morellia-Derretowa.

"Your colleague Dalan Vaine told me that you were the right person for negotiations pertaining industrial constructions" she told the Wookiee over at the Industrial Construction table. "If that's the case I would like to discuss a business opportunity pertaining to the construction of a spaceport on on Mirial"

 

[Arage Bao]

​

Sirah Bochan de Frou​

​

​

Vaine stared at the retreating back of [member="Dunames Lopez"], before sighing to himself and getting back to work.

There was no sense in trying to get her back. It was clear that she was lost to him and that 'Sirah de Frou' had another client to enlarge his monstrosity​ of a commission even more. Why he insisted everyone called him Sirah Bochan de Frou was beyond him, he had heard from one of the cleaners that Bochan was actually called Bochayyyyro, but after a long stint at the University of... Fondor? The Wookie had decided that Bochayyyyyyyro did not fit his classic taste and literary intellect, and decided that it would be best to change his name entirely.

Sirah Bochan looked over his monocle down on Dunamez -- even while sitting he was positively towering over most sentients -- and coughed gently. He re-calibrated the metal contraption that held together his tie knot and suddenly his voice shifted once again. It mattered little that he was above most uncultured Wookiees, evolution had made it impossible for him to speak Imperial Basic without the assistance of technological means.

"Madame.... Lopez." Bochan's metallic voice whispered with a nasal accent, but it was low enough to be pleasant rather than screeching. "Yes, I caught some of your conversation with Monsieur Vaine."

"How can Czerka Construction be of assistance to you, Madame?"

After this he shifted his seating position slightly.

This granted him a better image of Vaine's slumped and grumpy aesthetic, which was absolutely pleasant to behold, that uncultured swine needed to be taken down a notch or two. He dared to call him Bochayyro even after being corrected numerous times, how dare that backward reptilian address him by his native name?

No respect at all.

 

[Dunames Lopez]

And to think that Dunames would be heavier than the Wookiee before her, even though said Wookiee would still tower over her, even while seated. Bochan would then ask a question that would reveal the whole nature of Star Tours' project on Mirial to him. Meran Mechanics was denied on Mirial because their prefabricated stuff, while cost-effective and practical at the level of commuter spaceports, were incompatible with Mirialan culture, namely in architectural and urbanistic practices. Mirial might be the holy grail of the destroyed spaceports in Primeval space, but Dunames wished to get the project over with as soon as was practically possible, and so would any builder that actually tried to get to Mirial in a bid to rebuild their spaceport and other infrastructure, transportation or otherwise. Oh, once Bochan's accented, metallic voice of the vocabulator resonated around her own liquid-metallic body, she began formulating her answer.

"I believe Czerka Construction can build a spaceport that is more respectful to local traditions and customs than the builders I've contacted: even though the spaceport itself is a commuter spaceport, Mirialans seem to be much more strict as far as cultural practices are concerned: before I continue, I have to ask: to what extent do Czerka Construction respect local cultural practices"

[member="Dalan Vaine"]

 

[Nicademus Blith]

Nicademus had done these srot of things since he was a young boy, it was not anything special to be going to a business meeting like this, sure it was true that this was a rather large one, but he felt no pressure for himself in this situation. He however, was stressed about the fact that he was running late. His flight had been delayed and he got caught up in orbit due to a possible oncoming storm. I should have just flown private he thought to himself, however that was too late now.

He walked his way down the streets of Fiyarro, it was quite a large city, especially for the Outer Rim, it was befitting of the status of Serenno, it was a shining gem in the outer rim, a beacon of civilization in the lawless lands, He only had a payed bodyguard with him down these streets, it was minor protection, he didnt expect much trouble.

Nicademus approached the Tower Shield, you could see it from quite a long ways if you knew what you were looking for, otherwise it blended in perfectly to the skyline, it was rather appealing to look at. He made his way up to the security personell guarding the door, they looked rather disoriented and confused.

“Are you okay?” he said flashing his entry badge.

“Yeah… im fine, go on in.” The guard said.

Nicademus then moved into the building, and once he was out of view the guard keeled over and puked in a nearby bush, something had happened to the poor man, and his compatriots, something rather unsettling.

Nicadmdeus entered the building, taking in the feelings of the room, he looked at every person trying to see who would be the best to speak to, One man seemed rather interesting in particular, he seemed drugged up and otherwise not in a good situation, he seemed like an interesting person to talk to to say the least. That person was [member="The Slave"], and Nicademus tended to single out people who seemed colorful or otherwise interesting, so he approached him, despite his undesirable appearance, because any person here was a chance to improve and do capitalism.

Nicademus approached the man, the best way to introduce yourself to somebody was to open dialogue immediately, no passive aggressive poodoo.

“Hello sir! I am Nicademus Blith CEO and owner of Blith Tech, how are you doing?” He said.

 

[Ras'kala'han]

Antherion met [member="Arken Lussk"] with a winning smile. His eyes, hazed over by the his barrier (a necessary precaution in Dominion space), had abandoned their usual swirling amber-gold for a stormy grey-blue, but the spark of intellect, cold and bright, still shone through them. He met his handshake, and listened with a mask of an appreciative expression, before replying, his synthetic voice having been toned down from its usual, intimidating chorus into a simple, smooth (albeit perhaps slightly flat) one.

"The pleasure is as much mine. My name is Antherion, transition executive for Luxarc Biomedicals, here to build a lasting future and open a new chapter for the company. And what can you do for me? Well, that's easy — let me help you."

"I have unique challenges... and unique ideas. I'd like to sit down, take a moment, have a drink. We can talk, and work things out, hm?"

Reflexively, Antherion nearly traced a finger along the curvature of his throat, leading down from his chin, or tugged at the fabric to uncover it. By the time his hand reached eye level, he turned it into a slight adjustment of his hair, though. He hoped that he didn't appear too... well, corpse-like, but his body had been through much, horrible stress. Wear and tear was bound to show through.

A vibrant affectation, a cheery expression. Even habitual usage of a cocktail of drugs that helped hold him together. These things helped though.

It didn't matter. He could have been having to hold his organs together with both hands and hop around on one leg, he would have bashfully apologized for staining the carpet and gotten down to business. He had things to do, things he wanted. There wasn't going to be anything between him and that.

 

[Arage Bao]

​

Sirah Bochan de Frou​

​

There was an amused curl to the fur of his mustache as one long and thick finger curled around it in contemplative thought.

It was not a secret that Czerka did what it did best: take advantage of any and all situations where they could earn themselves money, but there was a big but to that universal truth. Mainly, that the corporation did have the fine business sense to accommodate any genuine business dealings with the governments that actually offered them it.

This meant that if the Mirialan government specifically stipulated that these spaceports needed to be respectful of their culture?

That Sirah Bochan would do his utmost best to accommodate them in this. Why wouldn't they? Money was money, after all, and it made little business sense to aggravate a possible partner in business by doing something that went strictly against their wishes, if it was so easy to simply do as they asked. Now, the Wookiee, admittedly, did not know much about Mirial and its population. Other than that some cultist barbarians had executed a planet-wide purge of its people years ago, but if he had heard right they were recovering nicely with the assistance of neighboring star systems and corporations.

"To the extent that it earns us a profit, Madame Lopez." Sirah de Frou responded as if it was obvious. "If the government of Mirial has specific specifications, we would meet them to the letter."

Anything else would be silly and unprofitable.

[member="Dunames Lopez"]​

 

[Dunames Lopez]

"Here are the specifications of the Mirial government for any contractor wishing to bid on the spaceport" she told Bochan while handing a datapad to him, displaying exactly what these specifications were.

For some reason, when it comes to the Primeval, she would readily acknowledge that they destroyed spaceports everywhere they went, even though their atrocities were not as well documented elsewhere: Pax Insul (even though there was no spaceport to destroy in the first place), Gravlex Med, etc. But to make the whole deal work, Dunames needed to ensure that the chosen builder would actually respect the specifications, knowing Meran Mechanics did not, and it was painful for her to see how Meran Mechanics' prefabricated stuff did not comply with those specifications. Might cost Star Tours or the Mirialan government a little extra, but that was going to be a profitable deal to the Mirialans. Exactly how much of an extra cost that was, she would have to ask before committing to anybody.

"May I have a quote please?"

[member="Dalan Vaine"]

 

[Arken Lussk]

While Arken's grin never let up, he could feel himself waver the second his hand met [member="Antherion"]'s. Pale and clammy; absolutely nothing out of the ordinary given the stressful circumstances of the business world, but something about it just felt wholly and entirely wrong. However, his facade of the friendly and cheerful host never let up, even as he fought off the urge to wipe his hand across his pants. Ridding himself of that strange sensation seemed to take more precedence now than securing a contract for his company.

"Outstanding, my good friend." Arken turned his body, not noticing the tracing of his throat, to gesture at his refreshments table and the ample seating around the room. "Let's have a seat, then."

The young executive led his guests across the room, first to the refreshments where he slid a slice of Iego angel food cake onto it. He filled his own glass to the brim with some of that famed Shushugaunt brandy he'd went on about earlier.

"Does brandy suit your fancy? Or perhaps you'd prefer something else?" Arken inquired, offering to pour the man a glass.

 

[Darth Empyrean]

“Nicademus Blith?”, The Slave offered with a slow and decadent turn towards this over professional man. In his hand, he held a rather flamboyant drink, his eyes covered by dark rimmed glasses; and nearly his entire body covered in some animals fur coat.

If it weren’t for the demeanor he carried with crying out importance, he could easily be mistaken for some random drug dealer in the street. Not to mention where they were at the moment.

“Paxton Bon, Senator of Lorrd under The Dominion.”, he said with a gauntly smile.

“I’m doing fine, but please, tell me what is it your company does, friend?”

His words seemed genuine, although tinged with faint traces of passive emotions. There was something unsettling about him, the passive presence he gave off, the faint pressure you felt breathing in the air around him. All of it seemed cold, like a blizzard stole your breath and held it hostage. Perhaps in this case, he was that coming storm; forever pulling the essence of your air from you.

Though for now, he was just a man with a smile.

│ [member="Nicademus Blith"] │

 

[Ras'kala'han]

"Brandy would be just lovely, thank you." Antherion took a seat, taking only the drink and a small serving of some sort of sliced melon. He took a sip, appearing to savor the taste. He was, in fact, checking to see if he could taste any poisons, smell any, feel any disquieting textures: powders, gels, such and such. No, but it was very tasty. He swallowed, and smiled. "Only the best for the guests of the soon-to-be-famous [member="Arken Lussk"], I see."

Ever quick to get down to business, Antherion withdrew a thin datapad from the folds of his cloak and set it on the table, pressing a few buttons. "Tell me, Mr. Lussk, if I told you that your services could save me money and time, and the galaxy all the lives that our vaccines and medicine can help, or at least give us a new range of options to gouge the purses of the viciously wealthy with genetic toys, what could I offer you in return for that?"

He turned the datapad to Arken. On it was an image of a humanoid brain to the right, and to the left, the same -- except, re-arranged, interlaced with machinery, studded with wires and needles, something of a digital mock-up of some strange cybernetic piece. "The mind. Evolution, and as some religious types might say, the Force have created the mightiest computer... yet its processing power is confused, and set to sentience, not mathematics. I won't dance around the topic, I'm offering you the possibility to put these things to a purpose. We can create heuristic-technical processes, the cyborg computer. A joint effort between biology and technology to push the cutting edge of the galaxy that much further."

"Thoughts?"