Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Opium Dreams

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rpx_PcZjByY​
The back room of Busted Blaster, Kiffex
A wandering female hand trailed across an ample, tattooed chest, burgundy-colored nails tauntingly scraping against taut skin. The hand ascended up a broad neck that ended with a thick black beard framing an angular jawline; just as it was planning to continue its well plotted path, the hand came to a halt. A blaster was pointed outwards, right into the forehead of a fine exemplar of a Wroonian female who sought to earn a few credits for the night. On the other side of the pistol lay Vittras Zerga, a wanted fugitive who escaped a high security prison several months ago. The expression on his face was stoic, as if the woman had just spent several minutes touching a tombstone, not a human being. He didn't even bother to establish eye contact, but continued peering somewhere into the distance, his teal gaze out of focus.

The hall he found himself was gloomy, shrowded in semi-darkness of candles and lanterns and permeated by sweet scents of burning giggledust. Booths were divided by translucent curtains adorned with crystals that reflected dim light, creating kaleidoscopic images on the walls. In each booth; a bed, daybed or a long-chair to serve as resting place for those seeking lucid dreaming.

"Not tonight." he voiced in a deep baritone and nudged the woman with the end of the barrel, which was more than sufficient to show that her company was not desired, even if it was free of charge. Vittras set down the blaster beside the daybed he rested upon and comfortably sat back amidst black silken pillows. Around him - The Opium Room. It's existence was considered as nothing more than an urban legend, but those who were regular visitors knew well that the Room was real.

The business model was simple - gatherings of all types of spice users and abusers in one place, where they could all enjoy drugs in what was sometimes a massive orgy, sometimes a collective reverie. Instead of wasting time on dispensing drugs through the streets of Kiffex and risk being caught by Kiffu Guardians, criminals organized sessions where those with enough credits could buy pure and quality spices and consume them in bulk. A high entrance fee assured an assorted clientele; from crime-lords and mercenaries, to the rich who wanted to experiment out of sheer wantoness. The man whom Vittras had executed this morning had just enough on him to pay for a proper glitterstim fest.

In the manner of a true glit-biter, Zerga injected another shot of finest Kesselian glitterstim into his nostrils, then leaned his head back to let the active substance absorb itself through his sinuses. Pressure began to build up in his forehead before the drug kicked in, seeping into his conciousness to completely overtake him. The Kiffar exhaled deeply, as he felt an internal release, like a dog who had been let out into the back yard after an entire day spent indoor. His otherwise clenched fists opened up as he rocked his head forth and opened his eyes, only to see another woman before him. Yet this one was profoundly different, her simple tan dress and modest beauty out of place.

Her long golden hair was assembled into a thick braid, rosy cheeks resembling that of a child who had spent a lifetime in the countryside. She was not pretty by the standards of the place she found herself in, but there was warmth in her light-brown eyes, and love...so much love. She held her buldging stomach in her hands ever so gently, as if carrying the treasure of the world. One hand stroked across, as if trying to pacify the child that grew within. Vittras' mouth half-opened in awe, like that very day he pledged himself to her in front of the altar of the universe. He remembered every single feature of her face, he memorized every single inch of her skin, deliberately carving it into his mind for all eternity. After all, he was unable to forget due to a genetic disorder he inherited from his mother's side.

"You should've let her stay." said the woman, gracing him with a temperate smile. Vittras didn't smile back as he beheld his late wife Zharia, whom he'd allegedly killed in the most brutal ways imagineable. He had no tears to shed anymore, his eyes dry as landscapes of Tatooine. Instead, he let out a barely audible whisper.

"Never."

[member="Khyon Drogo"]
 

Khyon Drogo

Guest
K
It’s hard to go unnoticed when you’re built like Khryon. The man put the gods to shame — its as if he were born and bred in a test tube for the sole purpose of serving as a Guardian of Kiffu.

Perhaps that was the partial reason the infiltration of this damned place had taken so damn long. He was proud to be a Kiffar, proud to serve the ranks of the Guardians — and yet, the planet was not perfect. Like every world that hosted sentients, it had its armpit. And he was currently sitting in it.

And man, did it take a long time to sit there. This was not the Guardians’ typical role — with the loss of Omega Protectorate (due to some political jib-jab beyond his title) the oversight on other realms of the planet was left undone. The prisons security was tightening, but it was found that others had to look beyond their areas of expertise and expand the field of protection that contributed directly to the well-being of Kiffu. Knowing that his heart was the planet, the dread-locked brute acquiesced to the new task. Although talented in his job, he was a vertical success. Not so much a horizontal, or cross functional one. Convenience had been on his side, however. Around the same time that the Omega Protectorate had disbanded, their Kraliçe-to-be had returned from her Jedi world; and with her a man of similar stature of Khyon. Although he was woefully paler. Despite the off-worlders unfortunate aesthetics, he proved most useful in tactical situations and infiltrations — years of experience, perhaps. As much as Khyon could handle himself alone, he didn’t have the level-headed patience necessary for scouting and stalking. It was a woman’s world, patience, in his opinion. And too it seemed, [member="Marcello Matteo"]’s. Perhaps it was because he was blonde.

A thick finger stroked the bottom of his pouted lip, wiping away a strip of residue from his ale. Dark eyes moving lackadaisically from the entrance room of where the point of interest was, back to the surroundings. Memorizing the layout as he did so.

“You know what would make getting into that room easier?” The Kiffar muttered, setting down his drink with an audible confirmation of the action “A broad.”


[member="Vittras Zerga"]
 
Without a doubt, Marcello's presence in the Kiffex system was ignored by most, tolerated by a few, and outright abhorred by...one. Unfortunately for the Jedi Master, that one obstacle was hardly an individual he would ever truly be able to dismiss. The father of the woman to whom he had given the entirety of his heart and the current reigning authority in the system.

However, the Naboo native was undeterred in his quest to learn more about the heritage from which Kiskla came. There were times when he would certainly have preferred to hail from a less well-known planet, a place still entertaining some element of mystery, conflict. Whenever he returned to Naboo, he was constantly remind of the bubble-like nature of its society. Leaving had, truthfully, been the best decision he had ever made. It was the return, the dedication of his efforts to the Royal Security Force that made things...difficult. His life had been nothing but war ever since. That's right. Marcello was absolutely not born into a warrior culture, and he hadn't been bred for it in the slightest. Shockball was responsible for his gravitation towards dangerous, exhilarating hobbies. Flying starfighters had practically been a natural evolution along that path. If only mom and dad could see him now...

It was with a mixture of restlessness and curiosity that Marcello had started spending more and more time working with the Guardians of Kiffu. Though the Jedi Master truly did enjoy spending time with Kiskla, he'd come to find that he needed...something else...a hobby. His penchant for danger and action could not be ignored forever after all. The Guardians seemed to be more than happy to accept the extra help...on their terms. Marcello was a literal second-class citizen, and they regarded him as such. For the first month or two, at least. Eventually, with the help of [member="Khyon Drogo"], Marcello had obtained a level of trust and respect just below that of an actual Guardian but well above his previous station.

The Jedi Master had learned a great deal from the various Kiffar selected to be Guardians and not all of it combat-related. So...it was only right that Marcello return the favor. However, it was difficult for him to blend anywhere, especially on Kiffu. Even though the over-arching protection and regulation of the Omega Protectorate was no more, there were simply too many that would undoubtedly recognize the large Jedi Master. He blamed that firmly on Kiskla and the large amount of attention that, ultimately, surrounded her triumphant return from leading the Jedi Order. Sure, the truth was that she'd spent the better part of a year being continuously tortured at the hands of a Sith Lord, but the former was a somewhat more uplifting story.

Fortunately, there was a simple solution to Marcello's predicament...don't try to blend. Since he was not officially a Guardian, it was hardly uncommon to see the large Jedi enjoying himself in a bar. Perhaps he was dealing with post-traumatic stress? Maybe all Jedi were drunkards? Or maybe just maybe, Marcello had abandoned the Order because love was forbidden, dangerous? There were any number of reasons that Marcello was sure various people on Kiffu allowed to run through their mind. He need only have a few drinks in public to keep the façade going.

Loudly, Marcello ordered another drink at the bar while his partner, Khyon, did the 'brooding big guy' routine. Marcello had all the money though. Armed with his new beverage, Marcello casually made his way over to where Khyon was sitting. Taking a seat, the blonde Jedi Master downed a large gulp of ale. "Well. Go get one then. Meanwhile, I've got the credits, but I'm going to need you to be a little less...you."
 
"You should get some sleep." Zharia advised, her rustic face showing genuine concern for her husband. Indeed, Vittras had not slept for solid two days, instead immersing himself in state of semi-consciousness induced by extensive use of glitterstim. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, starkly contrasting his otherwise clear, cerulean gaze. He extended his hand towards the apparition, fingertips yearning to touch her golden hair, beholding its silken texture once again.
"Come and sit by me, love." the Kiffar pleaded, his tongue becoming lazy from the profound effects drugs had on his central nervous system. His reflexes dissolved away, leaving him limp and dull. Sometimes, he could summon Zharia to lay beside him and then he would embrace her, vividly reliving that last night before the day she was slain. On other days, she would not come to him, no matter what Vittras tried to conjure in his mind. In a way, Zharia had become the personification of his conscience, the living manifestation of his shrinking, albeit still present morality. Vittras was a Kiffu Guardian once, upholding law and order in the entire sector. And now? He was dwelling the realm of those whom he aimed to apprehend.

"No." the wife replied softly, still standing in place - "You took a life today."
"I took it so I can be with you!" Zerga exclaimed and propped himself up on his elbows. He had no other way of accessing his late wife but through the biochemistry of glitterstim. Otherwise he was nothing but a walking corpse.
"You will find me once you start giving, instead of taking..." Zharia said, her image dispersing into thick smoke of giggledust.
"No!" A hand reached for the injection once again, only to find it empty. He had consumed today's fill, with no further substance available unless if he was to take it from other occupants of the Room. Zerga rose from the daybed and shook his head, trying to reclaim much needed focus. Perhaps a blaster could persuade one of the other users to share their dose, if not willingly, then by sheer force.

Just as Vittras was about to venture into one of the other booths, the Wroonian woman whom he rejected earlier had made her way into the front of the Busted Blaster, in search of potential customers she would lead to the back. Scantly dressed in a semi-transparent black dress, the blue skinned adolescent pushed past people to arrive at the bar. Her golden eyes fell onto two large male forms who were scanning the perimeter while enjoying their drinks. A wry smile crossed her lips. She preferred her men large and... angry?

"If gentlemen would like to have some fun this evening... maybe I can oblige?" she suggested upon squeezing herself to stand inbetween them. The difference in height was staggering; she was more than a foot and a half shorter then them.
"Follow me." the girl asserted and grabbed both of them by the wrist, dragging them towards the entrance to the back room. A microchip implanted under the skin of her wrist served as the security code which opened the door the two men were trying to enter. Clearly, the Wroonian was the property of whoever was running the business in back of Busted Blaster, the guards not even budging when she lead two men right into the Opium Room.

[member="Khyon Drogo"] [member="Marcello Matteo"]
 
Djark concluded his visit to one of his buddies in the pen as he always did. With a night of inebriation. The sorta kinda medic merc made his way into the Busted Blaster ordering a local lager and shot of whiskey. He wore nondescript black fatigues with a medic patch sewed into the right shoulder. His face gave a slight turn when he downed the shot. Visiting Park always put him in a mood. Reminded of shady deals and bodies out in the dunes. Which in turn reminded him of his own sort of indentured servitude to the government. Which reminded him of Yavin. He hated remembering Yavin.

He watched with a wire grin as the lady of the night snatched up [member="Khyon Drogo"] and [member="Marcello Matteo"]. The scenario distracted him enough to gain his attention, pushing thoughts of that cursed jungle from his mind. There were two large beings guarding the way the woman led them through.

What sort of fun was going on back there, besides the barely hidden prostitution? [member="Vittras Zerga"]
 

Khyon Drogo

Guest
K
He ignored Marcello’s comment about abandoning himself and moving more into some role he was to parade around as. He didn’t understand covert operations so much. It wasn’t that he was unintelligent, he just didn’t see the point of having authority if you couldn’t use it.

On his own planet.

He was about to point something out when the woman looped her slender fingers around his thick wrist, the hairs around his lips tickled with an all-too-pleased and well-practiced grin. The Guardian was used to getting what he wanted, especially from women.

“Ask and ye shall receive.” The kiffar warrior smirked, although realizing his message was on lost ears considering the woman who his blond companion was fraternizing with. That one wasn’t so simple to acquiesce with anything that wasn’t on her agenda.

His steps were heavy as she lead them, but not so weighty that the woman would have issues leading them. Senses alert, his fingertips were gently gracing the decoration around her wrist — small images of its history looping through his mind. While he consciously continued to walk, his eyes dimmed from their black hue to a smokey grey; sharing consciousness with the history made known via psychometry. He wasn’t supremely good at it, but enough to see what this woman had been up to recently.

She was not the objective.

The room was in a word - dank. And when Khyon blinked back to the present he had to do his best not to reveal the disgust he immediately felt when stepping into the location. The proximity of everyone that was scum so close to him made him want to knock them all out in an instant.

There was a drooling, long-haired, face-tattooed body somewhat limp in the corner. Like an astromech, Khyon’s eyes locked on the figure - muscles tensing reactively at the nearness of their objective! And he was high! Piece of cake. None of this tip-toeing around was necessary.


[member="Djark Slove"] | [member="Vittras Zerga"] | [member="Marcello Matteo"]
 
[member="Khyon Drogo"] never ceased to amuse Marcello. The man was occasionally so stubbornly ignorant of the benefit of subtlety in law enforcement that it amazed the Jedi Master that the Guardian had been so successful in his career. Then again, if you gravitated more towards the role of the enforcer rather than the investigator, Marcello supposed it actually made perfect sense.

Before another word could be offered, a somewhat alluring woman approached the two and quite presumptuously grabbed them to escort them to the Opium Room. Fortunately, it was part of the objective, so it made things a touch easier. Unfortunately, she reeked. She did not smell bad, she just smelled...artificially good. Marcello liked to call it stripper dust.

Khyon though...appeared to be quite enamored by it all, given that he just couldn't handle certain elements of finesse. As they were entering the Opium Room proper, Marcello's glacier-blue gaze did catch sight of an individual that appeared to match the description. The man appeared to be in the process of dragging himself to a different booth. In the man's drug-induced state, diving into [member="Vittras Zerga"]'s mind wouldn't have been complicated. It would have been quite unnecessary, however, given their location.

Khyon's own emotions quickly caused the otherwise chaotically tranquil nature of the Force throughout the area to contract and relax rapidly as if something was at odds with the very nature of any type of serene current. This was usually the point where Marcello would strongly suggest a course of action to the Kiffar. However, Khyon was the Guardian. Marcello was, ultimately, here to assist and offer training from his many experiences abroad.

Either way, Marcello remained ready to suspend the animation of the targets molecules altogether to keep something far more deadly from happening.
 
Djark watched as another man slipped between Things 1 and 2 towards whatever den of debauchery awaited behind their muscled forms. The distraction had become a curiosity, which was something the thief in him just couldn't abide. Djark looked around the bar and noting a few figures of similarly aggressive stature (with friends in tow of course), took his beer and waltzed over to their general region.

After a surprisingly subtle display of nimble fingers for a man of his size the trap was laid. He leaned over to say at a moderate volume into the ring leader of one group's ear.

"Hey man, slimo behind you just snatched your wallet."

The aggressive man responded as overtly aggressive inebriated men tend to and whirled about slinging accusations almost instantaneously and with a fury Djark had rarely seen.

The other man responded with a large fist in the other's face. Djark hadn't really even needed to switch the wallets. As a brawl began to insue and the muscle made their way to it's origin Djark slipped around and made his way unnoticed into a hallway that smelled heavily of illicit substances.

He began to hum as he nonchalantly made his way towards where the women appeared to be.

[member="Vittras Zerga"] [member="Khyon Drogo"] [member="Marcello Matteo"]
 
Slowly but surely, the effects of the drugs began to wear off. The more Vittras abused them, the shorter the time span between two consecutive shots. His body became accustomed to altered biochemistry of his brain, threatening to render him addicted beyond the point of salvation. Zerga shook his head, trying to regain focus, as he limped towards an adjecent booth, carabine blaster in hanging idly from his right hand. When his teal gaze leveled with plane of sight implied by his height, their eyes met. Kiffar's head slanted ever so lightly, as if trying to process the tide of emotions Khyon produced within him.

"Drogo..." he whispered, arm instinctively raising to hold the carabine closer. A few years older than him, Khyon was his mentor, friend, brother at arms. He taught Vittras everything there was to know about Teras Kasi, defended him infront of the Sheyf when he mucked something up. Kind of like an older brother Zerga never had, Drogo was the corrective and the instructive force behind Vittras' prowess in armed and unarmed combat alike. And now? They found themselves on the opposite side of the law, entwined in an endless circle of betrayal. Every blaster shot he would direct to his lifetime-friend would break Vittras' heart in a thousand pieces, but he was not going back to jail. After all, if they were to capture him, he'd end up in The Stormvault, where escape was literally impossible.

"Khyoooooon!" Zerga shouted across the room, through the smokey haze of giggledust, his otherwise symmetric face turning into an angry grimmace, especially after taking note of Drogo's companion. Everybody knew who the fair-haired Jedi Master was; the word was he shagged his way into their very culture, bedding their queen, the daughter of the Sheyf. To some of them, Marcello would never cease to be an off-worlder, no matter how close he was to Grayson.

"You bring Jedi scum to the game. I'm disappointed... master Guardian." he hissed, using the title in a derogative manner. Sneering, he spat on the floor infront of him, challenging Drogo's authority which he used to consider absolute.

[member="Khyon Drogo"] [member="Marcello Matteo"] [member="Djark Slove"]
 

Khyon Drogo

Guest
K
The woman had taken an accurate cue to slink away when [member="Vittras Zerga"] first groaned Drogo’s name.

Ignorance was bliss to most, it was also a way to reap fiery coals upon someone’s head if his tongue remained restrained. A trick of silence he’d picked up over years of observation. Large hands, now free of any femme looping around them gestured to the surroundings of the stingy bar’s even more dingy back room. “You choose the strangest things to be disappointed about.”

A little shrug of his shoulders emphasized his unbothered position by the insult. Khyon was not in a position of leadership by chance, it was by brute force and talent — there was no room for weak links in their culture. Persons who were not thick with warrior blood were exposed and reconditioned or filtered to agriculture or something else fundamental but not nearly as boast-worthy.

“Thought you might think him sort of neat, what with your fascination of messing with your mind.” The reference was blatant, considering the lack of lucidity that surrounded the being of his former companion. Khyon didn’t actually know if [member="Marcello Matteo"] could do the rumoured mind tricks or not. Figuring that a Jedi mind trick should be a standard trick that all Jedi could do.. he felt comfortable enough to throw Marcello under the bus there.

Zerga referred to this as a game though. It was very much not that, in Drogo’s eyes. It was really more of a sad reality - the very bitterest of ends.

His eyes trailed until they moved from Zerga’s stained face to the weapon in his grip. “You planning on using that after all you’ve learned?”
 
For his part, Marcello could do little more than chuckle at the interactions between [member="Khyon Drogo"] and his fellow Kiffar. The Jedi Master judged Kiffar thus far to be hardly any different from countless other sentients in the galaxy.

It was, unfortunately, all too often the case that many sentients suffered from a lack of true understanding of even their own heritage. The bristling and posturing that developed out of specific cultures or societal tendencies had long since ceased to be more than a fading curiosity for the Jedi Master. Marcello had certainly suffered that reality at one time too...for many reasons.

For instance, the scarlet-blooded Kiffar were, in fact, not what most species would classify as warriors by nature. They had very many impressive warriors, yes. This, however, was not a legacy all their own. Alas, Marcello truly was trying to garner a greater insight into their culture, their way of life. The why was the interesting part. Was it simply because of [member="Kiskla Grayson"]? Perhaps - but not likely. It couldn't be denied that his relationship to her was a strong motivator. Abroad, she purposefully hid any indication of her Kiffar heritage. She had explained the reasoning to the Naboo native, and he had listened with understanding. It was not his place to judge her personal decisions about a race he knew only academically. To that end, a part of him was almost surprised she'd want him among her native home at all.

Also. If he'd learned nothing else, it was that the Kiffar didn't exactly care about the perceptions of the rest of the galaxy. Kiskla Grayson...curiously excluded.

It was the pride of the Kiffar that Marcello was able to respect through every interaction. The necessity for wasted words, however, was not something Marcello had ever really been able to stomach. It was a waste of time. In any type of conflict, each passing second where one was exposed completely to their enemy for a perceived tete-a-tete, was just another second for something to go wrong.

Raising his left hand slightly, the Jedi Master effortlessly commanded the movement of the Force around [member="Vittras Zerga"]. Glacier-blue eyes remained focused on the Kiffar as the sensation of Vittras' biological functions played like a symphony in his ears, a harmless precursor to quite a dangerous follow-up. Marcello's gaze shifted only long enough to spare a tiring glance in Khyon's direction. The Guardian could either handle this, or he would.

Quite definitively.
 
The flowery smell of opium filled her nose as Chevu Visz, Jedi Marshal of the Galactic Alliance, crept in the door of the Busted Blaster on Kiffu. The Mirialan's green skin stood out among the generally paler-skinned crowd of Kiffar druggies and whores, but hopefully her outfit helped her blend. She'd landed on Kiffu for a recon mission, and while dirtside had caught wind of an escaped prisoner who apparently killed a pregnant woman and a Jedi Watchman. After consulting with local authorities, she'd traced leads to the Busted Blaster and changed on the way. The Galactic Alliance had no official jurisdiction on Kiffu, but as the world would soon come under Galactic Alliance control, the Jedi Marshal figured that helping local forces would be a show of good faith when the GA began to land.

The Mirialan immediately branched out with the Force to feel what she could. There were some strong Force auras at play in the den, although none of them seemed to be tainted with the dark side, she was still wary. Perching at the barstool, she ordered a whiskey and people-watched. Her eye-makeup was heavier than usual, and there was a shock of red on her lips. An unlit deathstick even hung from the side of her lips. The two things that distinguished her from a glit-bit prostitute, were the weapons strapped to a garter underneath her mini-dress, her discblades on one thigh and lightsaber hilt on the other. Obviously they were hidden, although a sharp eye might be able to discern their outlines under the snug leather fabric.

One thing was certain as she panned her onyx gaze around the foggy tavern. They sure grew the men muscly around here.

[member="Marcello Matteo"] [member="Khyon Drogo"] [member="Vittras Zerga"] [member="Djark Slove"]
 
"Stay out of this, Khaareji." Zerga growled, momentarily turning his attention to the blond-maned Jedi Master. He felt the stirring Matteo caused in the Force. Clenching his teeth, Vittras aimed to rid himself of his manipulative influence. He was not trained in such arts, but was extremely gifted in the Force. The Jedi had always tried to sway him into the Order, but his duty was with the Guardians as the protector of Kiffar people. Zerga's senses also alarmed him Matteo was probably not the only Jedi in the room. A famed Kiffu Guardian followed by two Jedi to apprehend a mere prison fugitive? A Sith Lord would be apprehended by fewer forces. Yet Khyon knew what Vittras was capable of. He witnessed his talent in martial arts and was full aware of his both his skill and speed at which he could deliver fatal blows. In a way, Vittras was Drogo's finest student. Ever.

"What happens here is none of your business, Jedi scum!" Vittras exclaimed, before focusing on his Kiffar counterpart once again. He took a few steps forward, then tossed the blaster away. For once, Drogo was right. Blasters, much like the Force, did not allow for true test of warrior blood. Upon ridding himself of the weapon, the younger Kiffar began to pace from one side to the other, like a caged beast waiting for circus show to begin.

"I've never failed you...and you were the first to doubt me." said Zerga in utmost disappointement, referencing to the trial and testimony that Drogo gave regarding Zerga's service with the Guardians. He told the court he was unstable, but loyal. Apparently, this was enough for the prosecutor to paint Vittras as a ruthless monster infront of the jury.
"You knew how much I loved Zharia. For frells sake, you were there when I wed her, as my best man."
Zerga's voice faltered a bit; he was a shattered man, but not immune to emotion.

"I named my unborn son after you! And you betrayed me for position and rank!" yelled Vittras, his entire body shaking in an uncontrollable spasm. Dark energy pervaded his body, fueled by anger against the world.
"I hate you! One of us dies tonightttttt!!!!"

With last words uttered, Zerga charged towards his once-time brother and jumped atop of him like a raging rancor, his hands aiming for his head, fingers clawing towards his brow, yearning to rip Drogo's eyes from his eyesockets.

[member="Khyon Drogo"] [member="Marcello Matteo"] [member="Chevu Visz"] [member="Djark Slove"]
 

Khyon Drogo

Guest
K
....imsorry

The clattering of the blaster against the stones was appeasing, and Khyon was subtly proud of Vittras having enough sense to remain true to his blood. Nevertheless, Vitas continued explaining the root of his spite for Khyon which caused bushy brows quivered in surprise at the announcement of his future spawn’s title.

Well.

That was flattering.

And as for the wedding, it had been a joyous time. Even as a non-empathetic man, Drogo could see the compassion the two persons shared. When the news that Zerga’s bride had been murdered, her husband had not been the initial suspect in his mind. Even now, he couldn’t wrap his head around the charge.

But he was making an awful lot of a fuss about it.

In all honesty, Drogo had considered mentioning his former compadre as an unstable being would be admission to rehabilitation, rather than a cell. The courts though, sought any other alternative possible. Perhaps wound in politics beyond Drogo’s pay. His motives were not as selfish as the Kiffar made them seem.

Vittras betrayed himself the moment he let emotions get the better of him. No, Drogo was no calm Jedi himself — but it didn’t take a practitioner of The Force to know that being emotionally-charged caused one to lose your self’s centre. This is something Drogo had explained to his student when they were reviewing the basics of Teras Kasi; a niche skill set that Drogo acquired in order to withstand all prisoners within the cells. To be the best Guardian available on Kiffu and Kiffex. It also helped him when training with their damned Jedi Kraliçe - force of nature, that one. What was relevant, he told his men. They had to be a brute force together, and hoarding knowledge was not Drogo’s style.

As soon as Vittras indicated his charge, Khyon assumed a modified version of the classic Teras Kasi defensive stance - though instead of dropping fully to a single knee, he merely bent his right leg and buoyed his weight that way. The benefit of this ancient art was that most fights ended swiftly — and although Khyon had given some instruction to Vittras, the other man hadn’t leant as much time to studying the art. He was more interested in weapons; which had largely benefitted The Guardians.

With the defensive stance assumed, Khyon’s hands were ready for the oncoming aggression, waiting until the last moment to react. His back curved enough to distance his face from his friend’s desperate grasp. His left fist snatched at the thick forearm of his opponent, twisting slightly and yanking [member="Vittras Zerga"]' right arm to the left, re-directing the lunge downward while letting his free, right hand move forward in a Teras directed, straight-fingered jut to the throat.
 
Five years earlier -

[SIZE=12pt]She felt his mouth, warm and firm, on hers, which was difficult to resist. The satin caress of his lips and the taste of him overwhelmed her senses.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]He kissed her closed mouth coaxing her to open, he was teasing her, seeking admittance, but she still resisted. She knew if she gave in she’d be lost. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt him brush against her. Not demanding, not urgently, but softly. A gentle kiss, perhaps a final kiss goodbye. She fought that automatic instinct that wanted to wrap her body around his.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]But he stepped away, and bowed to her.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]She watched as he turned for the last time and took those few steps into the shuttle. A moment later the entrance retracted and the powerful engines started up. The shuttle slid gracefully into the air, hovering for a moment the hull glistened under the morning sunlight.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Then he was gone.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]She stood there she knew not for how long just staring at the sky wondering if he would be back laughing at her a joke he would say, should have seen the look on your face he’d say.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]But he didn’t.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Present Day - The Busted Blaster -[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]And now here she lay upon a satin pillow her mind drifting here and there as opium filled the air around her. She motioned for another drink to wash down her memories push them to a place that they’d find some solace for a little while. Sometimes she wished things had been so different.[/SIZE]

[SIZE=12pt]Then there was a commotion, something to draw her out of her dream like state. Did she want to look? She sighed heavily and rose up to look out to see what was happening now?[/SIZE]
 

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