Star Wars RP

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Life Is But A Dream... [Public Party Thread]

Drones buzzed and rebuilt what was left of the ferrocarbon frame and quadanium steel plates on the belly of the massive beast, various magnolocks and military grade adhesives all put in place to bring it back to perfect condition. The repair was expensive, but the money brought in by the interior nightclub kept The Technicolor Beat mostly profitable, despite its massive operating cost. To maintain this surplus, the soft churns of industry outside the ship were dwarfed by the hedonism taking place inside its form.

Docked in a temporary bay on The Wheel, The Technicolor Beat almost shook the vacuum of space with its loud and booming music. Walking in, its participants would feel the bass before they heard it; forcing their heartbeats to match its speed with every passing step. By the time the droids guided the guests to the nightclub, a sense of high would be felt from not only the buildup of adrenaline, but a heavy mixture of betawave generators and thick clouds of pheromones to get everyone in the mood.

Once inside the now empty reactor, a massive laser show would become obvious, a nearly twenty meter tall Twi’lek’s outline would dance as it flashed in vibrant neon colors while the zero gravity dance floor that ran through the center had swarms of dancers doing this trendy move or that. On the main floor was a massive bar surrounded by hundreds, while every story held a balcony that watched over the eternity of the nightclub, from the first floor to the top. It was a massive example of what could be created when funds were dedicated to creativity, rather than practicality.

Today, much of the galaxies notable underground was invited to celebrate the newly found diplomacy aboard the station known as The Wheel. With various groups now finding stock in the station, the best solution they could come up with was getting everyone’s tensions back down by drinking and getting as high on spice as possible before someone inevitably refused to back down from this argument or that conflict. It was only a matter of time before one of the local crime cartels decided to shoot each other, so why not enjoy the peace for the time being.

With the music playing loud, and spirits high, the only thing that could ruin the night was a lack of booze. Luckily, The Technicolor Beat came prepared.

Bareesh Kajidic

Bonnie Appetite

Yuhj Narbo sat in a booth between two Twi’leks. He leaned forward until his face pushed into the line of spice on the table. Narbo breathed it in, dragging his face across the table’s glass until he’d cleaned it bare.

The Aqualish sat up with a start as the spice blasted through his system and put him in a euphoric haze. He leaned back against the booth and put hairy arms around the shoulders of the twi’leks on either side.

“Hah. Hn. Great party.”

Julian Valentine

"I don't come cheap."
Julian Valentine was relatively dressed down. His helmet had been left at the front desk and so had the rest of his armoury. It had taken security almost twenty minutes before they had believed he was entirely harmless. Four handguns, disruptor pistol, a cycler rifle, a belt of grenades, two different net-based guns, a stun gun and a hold-out blaster.

On the arm of Valentine was Svel Droma, the cybernetic woman was wearing a fine silk crimson dress, her hair up and pulled back into a crude ponytail. Her smile was devilish as she led Julian to the bar and leaned in to whisper into his ear, gesturing across the nightclub. "Look, Lysle, over there," Svel said and Valentine followed her gaze to the infamous Red Raven crime lord who was in his own private booth, a yellow glow showered over the booth, protecting their words from stray ears. Julian could see the man talking to someone but the words came without sound from this side of the barrier.

"He's up to something. Rumour has it he wasn't happy when Popo and Gorba agreed to shake their slug hands," Valentine said and Svel furrowed a brow, "Slugs don't have hands." Julian quipped back, "Yeah but they're farkin' fat, gooey and they look like overgrown slugs." She smiled and Valentine removed her arm from his, held her hand and kissed the top of it, "I'll bid you farewell, enjoy yourself Svel, you've earned it." The cyborg smiled and blew him a kiss, "Goodluck on finding a girl prettier than I." Valentine smiled and beelined for the bar. Svel was a friend, and while there had been something in the past it was just that.. in the past.

Saphir Steele

Parties had never been Saphir's thing. She was often too abrasive to be worthy an invite, too quick to grab a drink and leave in the occasion she did get invited to one. But after the whirlwind of being dragged, quite literally, into association with some of the Underground's more notorious folk, the chance to relax was one easily appreciated. The clouds of pheromones and the piles of spice aided in managing any anxieties that would come with such a party. She stopped just inside the doorway, gaping at the sheer amount of festivities the Technicolor Beat played host to. "How does all this fit in one ship?" She wondered, almost unaware she'd said that aloud.

It was no surprise when she made a beeline for the bar, ordering what she thought would be a good start to a night of revelry. She'd get through seven drinks, right? Yeah, that was no problem. Someone would probably drink them if she didn't. For now, though, she settled in a bar stool, drink in hand, turning her back to the bar itself to watch others taking part in the debauchery.

[member="The Slave"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Julian Valentine"]

Lysle of the Hydian Way

Silent and Violent

"No!" Lysle shouted as he slammed both fists onto the table. The glasses wobbled and splashed the drinks on the laps of the men across from Lysle. "I want them farkin' dead you hear me?" he said, pointing an accusatory finger at a thin, tall and grey-skinned Kalzerian. "It will be done, Valentine currently has no contracts to fulfill, I will request his services. It won't be cheap, Lysle, you know what Valentine is like." The Shadownet Broker spoke in a way that was discomforting for most, black as night teeth that were sharpened into daggers and bright yellow eyes that seemed to pierce the souls of most, but not Lysle. Lysle could not be swayed by this man or cowered to surrender to his words. The man reached out and took a sip of his drink, the skin on his fingers were like dull-grey leather.

Lysle turned his gaze out to the nightclub, beyond the yellow tranquility field that protected their conversation from unwanted ears. They were safe here, but no one was truly safe on the Wheel. Not while Popo was in control, and not while Gorba was incompetent enough to lose such an easily won battle. "Gorba won't last long in this dog-eat-dog galaxy if he can't keep his men quiet enough to keep this operation under control," Lysle turned in his seat, "I want Valentine to find out how the Hutt Council found out about this attack and I want those responsible dead." The Raven crime lord turned in his seat and looked at the Shadownet Broker, "Bill Gorba for Valentines fees, he can pay to clean up this mess he made. I don't care if he refuses. He'll pay one way or another."

The loss had been tremendous. Half the Raven fleet was crippled. Lysle had been promised answers and now he had more questions than ever before. He blamed Gorba above all else. Popo was only defending himself. It was expected. At the end of the day, Popo's time would come, but for now Lysle had bigger fish to fry. Tens of thousands of credits had been washed down the drain on this operation and he had gained nothing for it. He would get his credits back, even if it mean't he couldn't return to Neos just yet. Perhaps there was one more game he had yet to finish. Lysle of the Hydian Way was coming back with a vengeance.


I like rough edges...
''One KYD-21. Don't lose it.'' she said and put emphasis on the don't when handing over the purple and metallic blaster pistol to the security guards at the enterance, holding it in its barrel. Security was tight aboard the station to keep the crime lords, criminals and varied sorts of scum from killing eachother and ensure recent treaties to last, at least for the night.

She held open her rugged brown smugglers jacket and spun around once to show the guards that was all the armament she carried. With that move she also revealed a rather well-trained body beneath her tight grey top. ''Oh! Almost forgot about this one. Sorry.'' she continued ironicaly and along with a shrug, she pulled up a vibroknife from one of her boots, spinning it around in the hand before handing it over to the guards with a slight smirk. The guards, clearly not as amused, however granted her enterance now that she was clean.

Upon entering into the main hall of the club, the already intense beat of the music got louder. She cruised through the crowded nightclub and laser show and strobes lit them up to the beats. It was hot in the club and that, of course, got people to drink more. A perfect selling strategy. Getting through to the bar, she ordered a bottle of beer and credits and beer exchanged owners.


Horde Boss
The massive Horde Boss entered as brusquely as one could, having already downed enough ale to make a lesser man fall flat on his face. Her younger sister, Veriss, had accompanied her somewhere, but it seemed that she had already lost her before even arriving. The music was lively, the atmosphere was on fire, and Leo was more than prepared for whatever was brought her way, whether that be a fight, a laugh, or a bed.

"I am Leo!" she shouted with her booming voice, completely unprompted and unwarranted. "Impress me!"

[member="Saphir Steele"] | [member="The Slave"] | [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] | [member="Julian Valentine"] | [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"] | [member="Tan'yill"]

Julian Valentine

"I don't come cheap."
Valentine couldn't help but stare at the booth with the Red Ravens, and then follow the crime lords gaze to where Yuhj Narbo was seated. There was hatred in Lysle's eyes. Hell hath no fury like Lysle scorned. Valentine didn't want to get caught up in another gang war and kept his eyes to himself henceforth. He turned back to the bar and ordered a Bitterfruit liquor, pulled out a cigarra from his pocket and placed it between his lips. His eyes turned to see Svel dancing in the zero gravity well with the other revelers.

Julian nudged the person beside him, not yet seeing who was sitting there and said, "Do you smoke?" offered a cigarra in a poor attempt to make some chat with someone here. His eyes turned to see who he had nudged and his heart skipped a beat. Damn, he muttered under his breath and almost dropped the cigarra from his lips. "Blue," he said in surprise, "I haven't seen you in... seven, maybe eight years?"

She was different, not the young thug on the street that he met on Corellia. But he had changed, too. He was older, early forties now, the greying had spread further through his beard, around his eyes were creased with a few wrinkles but the white patch on the back of his head had stayed all the same. He was still just as fit as ever, but there was one significant difference between then and now. He didn't have his legs anymore. Were she to look down, where his legs once were when they first met, were now replaced by mechanical prosthetics.

| [ [member=Tan'yill] ] - [ [member="Bareesh Kajidic"] ] |
The Slave sat in his usual spot in the club, a small earpiece offering him the inside scoop from Cybele about everyone who entered and left the ship. What weapons they carried, a quick dossier, anyone who might be of interest to him…

- and that one is a barbarian princess!”, the AI would say with joy.

... What?

She has a galactic record for being a ‘savage’ and raiding.

Oh.”, he said with his curiosity only vaguely satiated.

Watching the massive women scream about entertaining her, The Slave couldn’t help but make a slight connection to [member="Gallar Ahamkara"], though the last time she was aboard his ship it was more of a riot than a party. Still, warrior princesses were a fad in his mind's eye, and now he didn’t much care to find out how wide those hips really were.

Sighing, The Slave sipped from the daiquiri he held and readjusted in the folding chair above the bar. He was alone, dressed in shorts and a floral print shirt more akin to a beach goer than the owner of a massive weapon of war turned nightclub. His gaze fell on that of [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]; cocking an eyebrow as he seemed vaguely more activated than usual.

Cybele had given him the run down on who he was, and the dangers that came with such an influential individual, but The Slave couldn’t help but wonder what made him tick. His AI compatriot told him numerous times how bad of an idea it’d be goad the crime lord, but The Slave was notorious for not listening. As of right now however, he’d see if anyone else of interest showed up to the club; someone he could really dig his claws into.

Adjusting his sunglasses in an already very dark, pheromone filled epicenter of drug induced euphoria, The Slave watched the gate for anyone else to walk in; someone that would catch his immeasurable attention.

[member="Julian Valentine"] │ [member="Leo"] │ [member="Tan'yill"]

Stardust Solus Skirae

The Emerald Dragon
[member="The Slave"] [member="Julian Valentine"] [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]

What do you so, when a old name pops up
A name you thought was dead
A name you fought for

You got curious, at first star ignored it putting it off. However it nawed at her, ate away at her before long she became curious...she herself thought the ravens had died off long ago and everyone went their ways. However part was only true it seemed and stardust needed to investigate this to see if it truely was red ravens...

She was a bit on the safe side...she carried her sabers and a westar 35 on her sides. She walked forward with a smirk as she felt that music thumping shaking her body from even outside the club. As she pressed on the door the music hit her body as she smiled wide and strode further in the music was nearly deafening!

She glanced around the how did one find a raven inside a place like this? Simple

You let out a call

She kept a assortment of things...why she never knew herself maybe for memories. She pulled a old comm out and pressed the button to send a signal out...if there was ravens...they would come. For now she took a corner seat and watched the crowd

John Ash

Only by Fire do we become Ash.
Big parties were not unusual around the Galaxy. It seemed like some group or government or company was always throwing one for charity or humanitarian aid. They were high society affairs with rules and decorum and big speeches. For someone who spent most of their life on Nar Shaddaa, it was a rather disappointing and boring event. It was a credit a dozen night out. But on those rare occasions a true party would be thrown by someone with some sense. It seemed this [member="The Slave"] guy was one of them. It was thrown in honor of a big event in the Underground. The end of a hutt war that didn't see one side crushing the other had happened. If there was ever a reason to actually throw a good party this was it.

John wasn't much for partying in general, but he couldn't miss out on this one. The chances to make connections and perhaps do some business were too ripe to pass up. It also didn't hurt to have a good time now and then. Arriving at the Wheel, he left his ship docked and headed for where this party was suppose to be held. It struck him as a little odd it would be in a ship, but not really unheard when on this side of the law. Better to be able to ditch if things went south and still keep the party going at the same time. The only real issue with the whole thing was that it was on this side of the law that the party was taking place. Someone was bound to pick a fight and start shooting into the crowd. So for that reason he came in his Duster minus its helmet with one of his pistols on each hip and two extra clips each stuffed in his pockets.

The first thing John noticed as he entered the party scene was just how active everyone was. You would think you were on Nar Shaddaa or Coruscant from the way things were moving. The next thing was some big woman, [member="Leo"] , yelled to be impressed. Either she was going to be the one to start the trouble or just first to jump into it when it did. After that it was just different groups of people all paired off with each other. He couldn't say he recognized any faces, but that wasn't surprising. This was about getting to know new people and a place full of them was where to do it. He did have to note one face he did know after a couple of seconds. Seemed [member="Stardust Bloodstone"] was here. He gave her a nod then headed for the bar. Things tended to go smoother once you had a drink in your hand in places like this.

[member="Julian Valentine"] [member="Tan'yill"] [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"] [member="Saphir Steele"] [member="Bareesh Kajidic"]
Similar face, same place.

Kole shared a striking resemblance to Lysle of the Hydian Way, and he hadn't quite used that to his advantage just yet- at least intentionally, that is. There have been several occasions in which he has ben avoided for that exact reason. Now? The two were in the same place at the same time, and all Kole could do was drink away that thought. There had already been a time that he encountered someone with his exact face, and now he could pick apart the slightest differences between himself and Lysle, it made him question whether or not it that was the case. Perhaps not.

The dead gaze that Kole often held persisted in the current scenario as he sat in a stool, propped up as his elbows rest on the table just ahead of him. In his right hand was a glass that had the type of drink that burned your throat and made you think twice inside. The blues in his synthetic body scanned across the room, following a woman's figure with each step he made. Entranced through his boredom.

​Fortunately for Kole, there was enough alcohol here to drown in. Maybe it'll change the scene once he consumes one too many, or not. Only time was to tell, and he had a pay check to waste away.

Melvand Zrimmir

Generic Neimoidian #459
Zrimmir walked into the club with a thin smile on his face, taking in the sites. This was far from his usual habitat, which was what enticed him so. Although he was not one for the low life aesthetic, it nonetheless intrigued him viewing it so. He was a wealthy banker, from an upper class family on Cato Neimoidia, everything was new for him here. But that wasn't why he was here.

Zrimmir, and the company of his own design, Zrimmir Universal Banking Union, had been very successful over the last few quarters. As his bank grew in every direction legally, Zrimmir wanted his pocketbook opened to new avenues. Taxes and regulations of the Commenori Systems Alliance were killing him, there was no way he could really grow in wealth and power if he stuck to legal avenues, despite the number of loopholes there were. So he was going criminal. It wasn't unlike his family, his father, being VP of a large pharmaceutical corporation, ran less-than-legal drugs across the mid rim in his spare time. But to get into this bad crowd, Zrimmir needed friends and business contacts.

As he walked through, escorted by another Neimoidian dressed in similar robes to him, he looked around hoping someone would recognize him, and not in a bad way.


Round the Mulberry Bush
Hush was not usually one for parties or clubs. Too many people. Always someone behind you. Couldn't predict what they'd do. Wasn't safe. But after dropping by the Wheel to hawk the meager offerings from her last round of scavenging and salvaging and resupply, she'd been encouraged by her protocol droid to go out and socialize. At least all the pheromones they were pumping out into the air was helping. Otherwise she'd likely have turned tail immediately. Besides, Edelweiss would nag her incessantly if she didn't meet his arbitrary thirty minutes being in the same room as other organics. Which really how had he even calculated that? She knew her tinkering to make him operational likely hadn't really helped matters, but she also didn't think Protocol droids should just go about making up numbers.

"Worry worry Edelweiss, always giving life advice.." she muttered half under her breath. It was a good rhythm. She repeated it within her own mind several times, cybernetic eyes unfocused giving her a dreamy look as she stood, a momentary pillar of stillness within chaos, colours from the laser-show playing against pale skin and hair.

With a blink, she looked around herself. Bar? It took off some of the pressure. You got to stand or sit with your beverage of choice and it was socially acceptable to do nothing but that until the glass was empty. But she probably should not drink. That sometimes did not end very well.

"Not a drop to pass these lips, lest the world from sense does slip." She would remember. Yes. This time she would. Don't drink, don't do drugs. The pheromones were enough. That was important. It was fine sometimes. Some nonsense was much better than sense. Some fiction preferably to reality. But some times it was about as far from okay as you could get. Best to be alone on those days. In the ship with only droids who didn't take any heed or floating out in space with only a tether to act as her lifeline when it was very bad. But today would not be a bad day. No.

Thoughts of the void brought her eyes to the dance floor. Did you still call it a dance floor when no one was touching the floor? Zero-G was at the very least her preferred environment. If Edelweiss didn't keep insisting it was bad for a human to be in it all the time she'd probably have left Talulah in Zero-G whenever they were free of a planets gravity well. With a slight hum to herself, pleased with this decision, certainly one most sane and responsible, she headed for the middle of the club, bidding farewell to the floor as soon as possible to join the dance above.


I like rough edges...
To be ran into was almost to be expected in a fully crowded place like this, people being either under the influence of alcohol or high as the lenght of a super star destroyer. She didn't react much except for an annoyed sigh. ''That's a poor attempt of saying sorry...''.

As the clumsy figure seemed to know her nickname from long ago, her heart sank for the fraction of a second. Not now. Not here. Had they tracked her all the way out here? Coincidence? When the man continued his voice sounded friendly, though. Somehow recognizeable. Turning half way from the bar and looking at the bearded man, trying to place his face and figure out who he was.

''Valentine! Heh, what are you doin' here?'' she exclaimed in surprise, a slight smile appearing on her lavender lips.

Julian Valentine

"I don't come cheap."
Valentine plucked the cigarra from his lips and then pointed it towards a booth where Lysle of the Hydian Way was seated, the notorious crime lord of the Red Raven Syndicate was having a heated discussion with a rather ominous grey-skinned alien with bright yellow eyes and black teeth like daggers. "That's why I'm here," he then placed it back and curled a hand around the end of the cigarra and lit it. "If I remember correctly, you do smoke," Julian said and held out a cigarra for her, "Good stuff, imported from Neos."

"I was apart of the attempt to take the Wheel," he spoke openly, casually. All here were criminals, and most had just been trying to kill each other not a week ago. "Unfortunately some Mandalorian got in the way of things and wasted my time." He took a sip from his Bitterfruit and gave her an appraisal, looking her up and down as one would an old freighter, judging if they were still seaworthy. "Most people don't last long in our type of careers, surprised to see you here, alive." He then nodded, indicating her turn, "So why are you here?" He wondered if she were some Hutt's slave now, or in debt to some cartel, or perhaps she was a good, honest, hard-working smuggler.
The exceedingly pale Echani stared. Openly. When [member="The Slave"] had requested her presence she had expected some sort of follow up from the meeting they’d held quite some time ago. It had been an experience, for certain, but she hadn’t thought the monstrous little genius thought her anything but a bore. Srina was combat oriented, proud, and more than anything didn’t know the meaning of frivolously wasted time. Diplomacy situations that ended in endless, tedious, amounts of small talk were probably her least favorite things to endure. This was entirely different.

The urge to cover her ears was strong and there was something in the air that made her feel a little light-headed. Her first thought was to appreciate the ship, versus the insane amount of scantily clad bodies undulating here and there—but that was her nature. The small woman wasn’t carrying any obvious weaponry, however, she was far from unarmed. Srina floated through the area like a wraith, never seeming to touch anyone, despite the fact that there was no way it could possibly be avoided.

This was her first time actually walking through the Technicolor Beat. She’d heard of it before, of course, because it was or had been registered with the Confederacy but it was far different than she would have expected. The Slave was an interesting creature. Childish in some moments, whereas in others, she wasn’t certain who controlled the conversation. For once, for perhaps the first time in her life, she was glad to be wearing anything but armor.

It would have made her stick out like a sore thumb. That was saying something, considering the extremely varied clientele. At the very least he white of her simple wrap dress didn’t seem much different than most of the rest of the patrons. It crossed over her assets, leaving her midriff bare, before following down the length of her legs in a form-fitting skirt. It covered exactly what it needed to while the slit on the right side still let her move. Most would assume it was for dancing. Srina preferred it for when inevitably, that dancing, turned into fighting.

The starlit white of her hair, twisted into braids and far too-elegant knots for such a gathering, took on the colors of the lights. Sometimes it looked pale-blue, sometimes primrose-pink. Everything about her seemed too clean, too innocent, for the spice-snorting going on at nearby tables. Silver eyes flickered here and there, never holding the gaze of anyone too long, as she looked for her intended party. There were too many people to find him through the Force, if she even could, so it seemed better to simply do it the old-fashioned way. Look. This was his ship. He had to be here somewhere.

The Slave was enjoying the music for a moment, letting it almost violent bass rumbles to fill his heart with vibrations that forced it to compensate. Almost completely enthralled in the Galaxy’s Top 100, he almost forgot where he was as Cybele broke into his focus to speak;

Looks like your guest has arrived. [member="Srina Talon"], apprentice to Darth Metus.”, she spoke frankly.

Show me.”, The Slave chimed in.

In short order, a small screen appeared inside his sunglasses, a plethora of cameras trained perfectly on her. He watched her avoid the crowds, dressing almost plainly by comparison to some, and he couldn’t help but be reminded of [member="Samka Derith"] during her visit to his humble ship. The Slave scratched his chin before speaking up once more;

Cybele, zoom in.

She paused.

Zoom in where?”, she said accusingly.

Just zoom in.

You’re trying to look at her ‘assets’, aren’t you?

No, I’m just trying to see-

You’re a pervert.

With a sigh, The Slave took the glasses off, already annoyed by Cybele’s ability to coax him into situations he couldn’t talk his way out of. He had harassed Sith Lords, but Cybele never ceased to outperform whenever she needed. It annoyed him, but he couldn’t help but respect her for it.

Eventually, a battle droid dressed in a vest and bowtie would make their way through the crowd to meet Srina. His eyes glowed a faint lilac as he spoke in an almost protocol droid like manner;

Miss Talon? I’m TCB-0136, one of the butlers aboard the ship. My master would like for you to come with me, to meet him of course.”, he said.

Offering a robotic gesture to follow him, he’d begin to make his way through the crowds towards the bar, though avoided it entirely. Its various groups obviously taxed by their numerous conversations, it was a crowded area despite it not being the only area to get a drink. It was simply the most entertaining. Bringing Srina around the group to a laser roped-off area, he simply walked through while the beams turned green, staying green for her to walk through as well.

Up these stairs, Miss.

Motioning her towards the stairs in question, she could walk up them and see a small almost empty area filled with nothing but two folding chairs, and the man known simply as The Slave. Looking back at her, he offered a faintly warm smile as his eyes seemed to glow in the contrasting darkness; a molten gold in all the flashing lights.

Srina, a pleasure to meet you again.”, he said, offering her a hand.

Voices of The Deep

◈ A Z U R E ◈
Not much time had passed since Gallar arrived to the ship. Her recent rise to power had caused a wildfire of rumors to erupt among the outer rim, resulting in quite the unrest among those who had made the unfortunate mistake of making enemies with the Dragon Queen. A deep sigh escaping her lips from behind that golden mask which shielded her face from prying eyes; her pace even and steady as the massive, barbaric woman made her way to the entrance of One of the few environments she tended to stick out in but its not like that ever stopped her before. And as one of the bouncers asked for her name in a rude, monotone fashion. Gallar merely tilted her head curiously, glancing beside her at the entourage that surrounded her. But luckily, her little translation droid floated between them and spoke up on behalf of The Queen.

"Ahem, you speak to Gallar Ahamkara, show some respect please, she is incredibly sensi-." He would mutter to the other droid quietly. The Droid looked between the translator and the seven foot woman standing behind it before shaking its head.

"I'm afraid she is not on the list. I apologize but i cannot let her i-"

Gallar had the droids head wrapped tightly in her hand before it could even finish its sentence. The Translator droid simply sighing deeply and backing away.

"Oh no, not again..."

Gallar hissed through her mask, a reptilian sound erupting in her chest as she squeezed the droids head within her hand, crushing it slightly before letting it go and shoving her hand out, pushing the large droid into the other room where other party-goers were standing. Applying so much force that the droid crashed into another man and knocked them both to the ground close to [member="Leo"] . Gallar slowly entered the room, her golden eyes focused on the droid as it tried to pick itself up off the floor until she stepped on it with such force its chest was caved in; reaching down and grabbing the droids head and ripping it from its broken body before tossing it back onto the floor carelessly.

"Brosh'vara khal neil. Snavvy boria vi ni." She would growl to herself, running her fingers through her crimson colored hair as she moved on from the scene as if nothing had happened, exploring the 'club' as she searched for something to entertain herself with.

Gallar herself seemed to turn quite a few heads upon joining the fray, Molten. Igneous. Burnished. Rippling flesh cascades across bronze orchard of feminine skeleton, matriarchal curvaceous glory toned in taut muscle. A bodice of brawny, an uncoiling assessment of android poise. Thick, elongated legs. Fiendish succubi masked by a barbaric frame; Flesh will curl, with salacious intent, broken and seething invitation to taste the rancid bouquet. She is dusted whilst animalistic in the hues of faint smoke and white clouds; donning human flesh she gorges with decadence. Shimmering golden eyes shifting back and forth as The Dragoness explored~

A rich slather of bejeweled silks, oft dark plum and rich scarlet, the colors of maturity, of passion. Eyes caustic, galvanized in vibrant gold with predatory slits along her pupils as the masked woman observed the smaller creatures that stirred all around her like insects.

Gallar could feel eyes on her at that point; she will be watched, observed, many times deemed a pivotal object of obsession. And yet she moves effortlessly through each plane of her reality, her intrinsic temptations only offering their caress the truest, most palpable appraisal as the red haired woman shifted her intrinsic gaze towards the bar, tilting her head and stopping in her tracks as she decided rather or not she wanted a drink.

And more importantly than deciding on a drink, she also wondered who of interest was actually even attending this event. Surly her invitation had to come from somewhere?

[member="The Slave"]​

The slender woman spun in a slow, full circle, while standing under the flaring lights. Slowly but surely her ears had adjusted to the booming bass, that, or she’d blown her eardrums out and was well on her way to deafness. Either way, she still felt a little off-kilter. Just when she was about to give up in what felt like a fruitless endeavor a droid approached her. By name. Mercurial eyes narrowed briefly as she listened as best she could. Sadly, she only heard about every other word. “You—“

“—What?”, she questioned, her perpetual state of calm threatened, by the flashing lights and grating music. If it could be called that. Two children could bang on pots and pans and make a more cohesive soundtrack. The butler-droid turned around, made a gesture, and left—leaving the Echani to assume she was supposed to follow. Sighing softly, momentarily raising her hand to her brow, she began to shadow her momentary guide. He was polite enough. But, that was his programming. Courtesy. It could have been courteously leading her into a rancor pit and still used the same mechanical cheer.

The wintry Sith Apprentice passed through the laser beams without hesitation. She was likely in over her head, something she had recognized the moment she walked in the door, but she would never show fear. Srina would never let a soul know how unfamiliar she was in this setting because it was all relative. If she observed long enough, she would learn, and once she learned she always aimed to win. Delicate hips rolled in an elegant gait as she ascended the staircase, hand slipping just above the surface of the railing, without actually touching it.

If Srina was surprised by the mostly plain area the butler-droid led her to her expression gave nothing away. True to form the planes of her face were beautiful, like polished marble, but there was nothing remotely human in disconcertingly gray eyes. They leaped from her face with an eerie sense of perception, even if, she was entirely at a loss. “Slave.”, she greeted over the now vaguely muted noise, reaching for the hand he offered, as niceties dictated.

His eyes were entirely opposite her own. Though, closer than one might think when her anger got the best of her. They bled gold, just like any Sith, just like her Master. “This is an impressive ship.”

Nothing about the party. Her keen glance had taken in the craftsmanship of the venue versus the colorful guests and various illegal activities. Slowly, she released his grasp, but she had yet to move toward one of the folding chairs. His attire was much different than the last time they’d crossed paths. “I must admit, at your summons, this is not what I expected.”

[member="The Slave"]​