Private Recompense for the Refugees

[Darth Strosius]

Somewhere in the Esstran Sector...

The former space of the now-fallen Sith Empire had become a wild flurry of refugees of all kinds, most of them either fleeing from the lawlessness left behind by the collapse or from the threat of the various neighboring factions surrounding the space closing in. Planets and even whole systems were left in chaos, leaving even more people to seek to hide out amongst the stars. As such many of the stations left behind by the Empire were...well overcrowded and hectic was a bit of an understatement by this point.

The ship Altorius was docked at one such station in chaos, being just one of many refugee and civilian ships stopping to resupply and refuel. Oh, and of course some were getting off to try and barter or beg their way onto another ship. I hate to see people like this, so...desperate. The masked Acolyte's gaze swept over the crowd in one of the station's many terminals, most of the crowd having taken to sleeping on various seating areas. Even more people were in the occasional eating area, be it a singular restaurant or a full on cafeteria. Had they the space and the means, he would have taken them all aboard the Altorius, but unfortunately this wasn't a pickup trip. They were here for supplies and fuel, and maybe one or two stragglers to bring aboard.

At the very least the stores still on the station are running just fine. A few hours of 'shore leave' was the least that he could offer the crew, even if it meant that he had to be the one sitting outside of where the ship was docked to ensure that no one tried to sneak aboard without permission.

Arachnae
Arken Rhau

 

[Arken Rhau]

“And a fine day to you, madam.”

“Clear off, mudscuffer!”

“Looking good there, sir.”

“Get bent…”

“Alright then,” Arken chuckled, striding through the crowd of loathsome faces, an elated smile splitting his own from ear to ear. An old woman, with what must have been the entirety of what she owned in a bundle under one arm, looked up at him from her seat on the filthy station floor, one hand outstretched. He winked, feeling positively fantastic as he dropped a credit chit into her palm and all but skipped away.

Had the air always smelled this amazing?

“Thank you, sir! Bless you- Wait, is that it?!” Her angry shouts faded into the din of humanity pressing in all around him, but another voice lost in the hundreds just like it. Angry, poor, exiled, it was the same story from one end of the station to the other and Arken had beheld every stage of destitution and despair imaginable during his little sojourn.

He took another deep breath through his nose, feeling like he was floating on cloud nine.

“Feels like another wonderful new day, doesn’t it friends.” He cooed, passing in between a gaggle of tattooed toughs who eyed him with the same bemusement a rancor would its next meal. He doubted they even registered the vibro-sword strapped to his back. No, eyes as despondent as theirs had homed in on the hover-cart he was pushing, its wobbly bed packed tall with supplies and, most alluring of all, bearing a large crate at its center, all its logos and markings scraped away. Funny, looks like that would often have earned slime like them an introduction to his blade -it was the principle of the matter after all- yet Arken couldn’t even bothered to frown at the louts, let alone cut them to ribbons. There was just something in the air today. He couldn’t explain it.

It wasn’t long before the scarred sith acolyte was passing under the hanger bay doors of the docking bay twenty three. He waved at the corrupt dock crew playing cards by the fuel pumps, waved too to their even more corrupt bay boss glowering down at him from the control station. Now there was a slimeball that deserved a stabbing or three, the greedy wretch, but... no, that was the old Arken talking. This was the new, and new Arken was feeling pretty good. Too good to get mad over a little thing like hiked up docking fees and outrages fuel prices. Speaking of which. The Altorius, in all her disheveled splendor, sat waiting for him were he’d left her. Her master and captain stood as vigilant as ever just outside her entrance ramp. Ebonclad and ever expressionless, Darth Strosius was peculiar kind of sith, and nothing made that so evident as the fact that, as a sith, he still felt it necessary to do menial work like standing guard when he had dozens of loyal souls ready at his beck and call. A strange man indeed, enigmatic yet benevolent. Strong yet humble. Weeks of traveling together with the exiled Sith and his people had birthed an unexpected respect for the man that Arken was honestly still coming to terms with. The smile he bore the masked apprentice as he approached was a genuine one none the less, though admittedly most of it came with the pride of his glorious bounty. The hover cart warbled to a stop before the cult master, so heavy with supplies it nearly scraped the floor.

“I’ve got good news, even better news, and a just bit of bad to round it all out.” He said, uncharacteristically jubilant as he began to unload the impressive haul. “Good news is this place is a goldmine! Half the folks here don’t have much more than the clothes on their backs,” he sniffed, oddly pleased with himself, “I’ve been buying up supplies at prices so low they’re literally criminal. Look at this,” He lifted up his arm for inspection, a shiny new, only slightly cracked, omni-link tool adorning his wrist. “This is a G1, the latest model, you won’t believe how much I got it for. Oh, and…” He lifted a small white sack up to Alisteri and laughed out loud. He couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like that. “I got my hands on some of those parts you needed.” His victorious smugness only grew more upbeat and unbearable as he yanked out another prize. “And that ‘thing’ the prelates were going on and on about. Got that too.” In fact, it looked as if Arken had managed to get everything they would ever need for the next leg of their long journey. Now, a doubting man would question where such good fortune had come from. Even if what he had said about the prices being spectacularly low were true, there was no way he would have ever had enough to purchase this much, this quickly. “Well, let me introduce you to the better news.”

Pulling the unmarked crate aside, Arken slid his fingers beneath the lid and began punching in the unlock code. “Krios and his brothers found this thing while they were out looking for supplies. They called me over when they couldn’t get it open. And, well…” Krios and his wily kin were warriors of the Kerstas, like Arken had recently become, and what they lacked in the force they more than made up for in their zealotry. They were good men, a little over enthusiastic when it came to adhering to the will of their master, but it was a cult after all. Could Arken not say the same about all of the fifty odd souls he had been packed in with for the past month or so? He’d come to know them, come to understand them, and despite his better judgement, even come to care for them in his own way, just as they had cared for him. Strangely, he recalled just how unexpectedly proud he had been the day Alisteri had named him one of their trusted protectors. The responsibility had been useful, but the weight of it had grown into more than just a mere means of infiltration, but… The acolyte shook his head, dismissing the thoughts and refocusing himself on what was important. The lid of the crate popped with a resounding hiss of pressurized air a moment later. Sliding it open revealed that inside, stacked to the brim, were vats and vats full of “…spice!” Arken laughed as if it were some raucous joke. Then his expression went hard and solemn very suddenly, his hard gaze fixing on Alisteri's. “We didn’t try any of it.” He said, you know, like a liar. “This is everything we need, right here.” He slapped the side of the sketchy crate. "Enough credits to keep us stocked and supplied for a very long time to come.” He exclaimed, continuing the unload the rest of the goods. He was almost up the ramp with it when he remembered.

“Ah, right. The bad news.” He frowned. “Krios called me a little earlier, he’s at cantina with the others celebrating our new good fortune. That man sure can put them away.” Arken chewed on his lip, as if tasting the next words he chose very carefully. “Well apparently…” he meandered “there may or may not be…” the meandering intensified “…some pirates involved.” He tried his best not to induce any sort of undue panic. It was probably just the drugs talking anyway. “Something about ‘a very upset spider woman’ he said, demanding her stolen shipment back. You know, typical pirate nonsense. Oh, no, no, don’t worry. I’m just going to pop in, grab my blaster and go sort it out. No need to trouble yourself.” He sniffed, spice tickling at the back of his throat. “I’ve got this handled.”

Arachnae

 

[Arachnae]

"I'd like to see them try-" Arachnae muses, holding a glass of Red Cloud lazily with one hand as she lounges on a couch set aside within the cantine she and her crew have stumbled into. Her bridge crew was huddled around, having pulled over tables, chairs, anything to sit or drink off of much to the distaste of the owner of the establishment who intelligently decided not to press the issue. Most of them were still dressed in Sith Empire naval officer uniforms, although modified in a variety of ways. Some had ripped the sleeves off, others having added decals, and others having ripped off any distinctive markings that would've shown no one here had ever risen to any significance within whatever crew they were once a part of. They were young, and it showed, no one in her group that was lazing around the bar was over twenty-four and they certainly drank and partied like kids who had the run of the place. Kids with guns.

"Even if the Empire managed to salvage itself now, they'd never catch us. We'd be on the opposite end of the galaxy dropping product off at Tattoine. And I doubt they'd even miss the Widowmark, a little frigate like that? They've got battleships to worry about." she'd scoff, having settled the debate started by a doubting member of her crew, who would receive a cold glare from Arachnae to emphasize the end of the conversation.

As she'd take a sip of the crimson liquid, her glare would turn to a sly grin as she'd watch two of the lower crew begin backing a newcomer out of the bar. This place was theirs, at least for now. Suddenly, the two would stop, pause, and give a nervous glance over to Arachnae who's grin would once again form into a solemn grimace as she realized that things weren't as they seemed. With an exasperated sigh she'd lift herself up, hand her drink to her 2nd in command and drift over to the two men.

"Eh.. Cap'n. This one's saying some idiot named Krios broke into our ship and is trying to.. ransom some of our goods back to us. How do you want to-"

Before he can even finish the sentence the newcomer is lifted about a foot into the air and slammed into the steel floor, the cantine going quiet as they all swivel to stare at a very angry Arachnae now towering over the messenger with her fingers curled into a claw pointing downwards. As her fingers would slowly make a fist, the messenger would be dragged towards her across the floor, eventually ending at her feet where she would crouch down and ask in a perhaps far too polite voice

"And where is this.. Krios?" Perhaps this was an overreaction, but she needed to make a point. Her crew had begun getting lazy off of good luck and easy spoils, she needed to make sure they all knew who the most powerful in the room was before they started getting ideas.

"He's in the cantine! 'Cross the hall!"

"Thank you.." she'd hiss, before standing to her full height, bringing her boot back, and landing it in the man's ribs who would crawl backwards in pain out of Arachnae's little cantine before retreating, probably to tell Krios she was coming. And she was. But it was always so much more fun when they started planning a defence..

Darth Strosius Arken Rhau

 

[Darth Strosius]

There was one inevitable result of refugees, and poverty in general, that affected every single desperate person under the burden of such things. The draw to crime. Be it something small like minor theft or occasional destruction of property, or something far more grim like murder or outright conglomeration into some form of gang, crime was inevitable. And having so many desperate, needy souls in one place bred it like a cancer. Need became selfishness, or it became ease or even enjoyment in partaking in such acts. He had seen plenty of it in his time, from the slave underbelly of Kessel to the slums of Dromund Kaas and beyond he had seen plenty of desperate situations become awful tragedies. Something that wouldn't befall his cult, no matter how dire circumstances grew. Even now he could see the occasional sideways glance or glare from a passerby in the docking bay. Greedy eyes spotting a way off of the station, or a way to gain some more credits for their own usage.

Thankfully the lightsaber on his hip deterred most longing glances. For now, at least.

They had already spent half their funds getting into the station and refueling the ship alone, he wasn't about to risk any part of the ship needing repair. Well, any more parts of the ship needing repair. As stared down another would-be looter and made the other man turn away and begin walking, he noticed a familiar face approaching from the entrance of the docking bay.

Arken Rhau , and he wasn't coming back empty handed either. The grin on the other Sith's face could be spotted from across the bay, and the hover-cart stacked up with crates and boxes was even more noticeable. "Well well well, looks like you got a good haul." He noted, a hint of amusement in his voice as his gaze ran over the various crates in some attempt to discern their contents just from the outside. It wasn't unlike Arken to succeed like this though. He had admittedly been surprised when the other Sith had joined his cult seemingly out of nowhere, but the simple presence of another of the Sith Order had boosted moral amongst the members so he hadn't minded the presence of the other at all. He proved to be incredibly useful in fact. Another person on hand to help with training and overall management of the cult had been a blessing, and the militia within the cult was eager to learn the stories of the scars that set the Sith apart from many others. Alisteri knew little of Arken before he had come into the cult, but at this point it hardly mattered. He could be trusted and he was willing to help, that was more than enough.

A small raise of his eyebrow was all the reaction he gave to the 'bad news' comment for the moment, too curious as to what exactly the other man had procured. Even with the mask, one could almost feel the relief at the mere sight of the bag containing parts. Oh thank the Force. Now he could finally get some semblance of normalcy on the ship with those, wouldn't have to worry about a pipe or wire rupturing every day.

Another raised eyebrow at the mention of what the prelates in particular had ordered, but again he said nothing. He did hope that they had some funds left, while all of these purchases were beneficial they would only help so much in the long term. Running low on credits was abyssmal in any situation, but whenever prices were varied from place to place with no regulation as they were now, being low on almost anything could prove catastrophic at best and deadly at worst.

Ah Krios, such a strong heart that one. If only his mind and morals were as stalwart- His thoughts were interrupted by the sight of spice. A whole crate's of spice. It had been the been the better part of five years since he had even heard of the drug, let alone seen it. He could idly feel his eye twitch at the mere sight of those accursed vats, realizing that his hand had curled into a fist which he quickly opened as his gaze snapped back to Arken. "Good, I would hope not. Krios and his brothers can barely handle their alcohol, let alone...that." As tempting as it was to just throw the whole crate of the stuff out the nearest airlock, he restrained himself and did his best to appear calm. They needed money, and that would give them it. "Make sure no one gets into it, and when we go to sell it you'll be in charge of it alright?"

He had seen far too many good people suffer to produce that drug, and he refused to look at the offending red substance any longer than he had to.

The minor headache caused by a flurry of bad memories subsided in an instant when Arken made mention of 'pirates.' The High Priest wheeled around to face the other Sith, his disgust replaced by concern. "What?" He held up a hand before the man could move away from the ship toward the cantina in question and shook his head. "Absolutely not. We are not starting fights in the middle of a refugee station!" A small breathe to calm himself and he crossed his arms. "Lead me to this cantina right now, we need to make haste before the pirates get there. Krios is the antithesis of diplomatic resolution, so you'll be the one hauling his intoxicated rear out of there while I play nice."

Arachnae

 

[Arken Rhau]

He had suspected the journey back across the station was going to be a sobering one. Unfortunately for the Sith, he’d been proven right. Pushing their way through the throngs of the dispossessed and the downtrodden had been hard enough the first time, but now it was proving a herculean task. Arken simply reminded himself these people meant nothing to him -were nothing to him- as evident by their pathetic lot in life. Only the strong survived. Only the most powerful thrived. It was a simple rule that made sense of a galaxy truly devoid of any semblance of the word. If you could be neither, then you weren’t worth a damn. Right?! Why then does the pit in my stomach gnaw at me so every time I look at them?

He peered over his shoulder, “Just up here.” he said, Alisteri following close behind as they negotiated their path through the twisting corridors of the station. After nearly a month sharing a cramped ship with someone, you sort of learned to read them in a way no stranger might hope to, especially if you were purpose was to study them. Even with his face concealed the young sith lord was an open book at times, and by now Arken knew that look of his like he knew smoke meant fire. It was his least favorite by far, that pitying, heavy hearted, ‘can’t anything be done for these poor souls’ look Alisteri got when confronted by the suffering of strangers most folk would simply ignore. It was why Arken had hoped to wayleigh his fears and deal with this matter himself. With what that spice had bought them the Altorius would remain fat with fuel and food for some time to come, fates willing. It was too good to even consider passing up, yet if the venerable high priest were to discover that it had been stolen unjustly, well a sinking feeling Arken had warned him the man might just be convinced to return their good fortunes for the sake of what was right! The man just didn’t know any better, or as Arken was beginning to suspect, he did and was simply determined to prove the universe wrong for whatever whimsical reason. Morality or some such nonsense, he assumed. It was usually something silly like that. Back on Osseriton the ‘good’ ones always died first, and they always died bad, as did all the fools who had been convinced to follow them. He hated to see such folly reflected in the cult leader, but for all his strengths, master Haxim still had his flaws. Maw save us from the conniptions of moral men.

Arken snarled, shoving aside a bleary old man too slow to heed his warning to move out of the way as the duo traversed the winding halls. He collapsed to the floor with a groan, the gaunt and confused look in his dim eyes washed away by the tide of uncaring traffic within seconds. All these people, all these souls adrift, and every one of them in a hurry to get nowhere fast… Damnit I should have taken another hit before we left. He was starting to feel that annoying sense of dread again -and even worse- some form of vile culpability atop it all! With the spice, this walk would have taken half the time and s fraction of the feels. Hell, he could sauntered through the slaughter of the pirates -if there really were any- like it was a Sunday walk in the park back on Epoch. Maybe he’d do just that, the acolyte mused grimly. Alisteri’s command had been clear, but if given the chance between losing their haul and actually negotiating with whoever these thugs were, mayhap a stray blaster bolt to get the bloodbath going was all they really needed to avoid a crisis.

“This is it.” A flickering neon sign hanging limp over a doorway swam into view. A literal hole in the wall. The smells wafting out of the place were unique to say the least, as were the cries and cheers he could hear coming from inside. Half drunken wail, half battle cry, the hoopla was followed promptly by the clattering of toasted drinks. That was Krios alright, no doubt about it. Patting the blaster at his hip, Arken suppressed a grin as he looked about the place, noting the few shady looking miscreants lingering about but sensing no real threat. He turned to Alisteri with one last half-hearted plea, “Really, I can deal with this, you know. It is my job to make yours easier, and wrestling half drunk idiots like these back unto the ship is hardly something you-” but Alisteri wasn’t having any of it, and Arken followed hopelessly behind as they stepped into the establishment.

The Cantina’s interior smashed against his senses as if he’d walked into wall. Smoke and liquor assaulted the nostrils, dim lighting and gaudy advertisements provoked the eyes, and all about him the delightedly drunken crowded around tables from bar to stage, upon which a truly terrible band was attempting its own horrendous rendition of ‘Mad About Me’ to raucous applause. Everyone, and he meant, Everyone, was drunk off their asses.

At the very heart of the tipsy revelry was Krios Alt’Dan, a smile on his face that shone brighter than all the Tatooine suns. The Dromund Kaas native was seated in the high roller’s box, his two brothers, smaller, stupider versions of the big, bearded man at either of his sides, and each with two scantily clad Twi’lek girls between them. One of them muttered something into one of the girl’s ear and the whole table erupted into thunderous laughter a second later. “Another round on me! For a free Dromund Kaas!!!” Krios roared, head thrown back in hazy eyed euphoria.

“For a free Dromund Kaas!” The entire bar replied with a station shaking ovation. Arken almost found himself clapping and cheering too, till he realized this was why everyone was so out of it. That blasted Krios had been spending all their credits giving drinks away!

“And another, for Master Alisteri! Savior of the Empire!”

“For Master Alisteri!” The cantina rumbled again, and Arken buried his face in his hands.

Darth Strosius
Arachnae

 

[Arachnae]

As Arachnae found what few sober members of her crew remained to form a posse she began to feel the presence of other force users.. just a little tinge in the back of her skull at first but it slowly grew into a dull awareness of the others. It was a skill she was rather adept at, her other force powers having come through training but detection having been one she was practically born with. Where they were exactly was unclear, but they were close.. and she was sure they had to be tied to this situation somehow. Perhaps things would be tricker than expected.

"Let's go! And remember, don't start blasting unless needed. Hopefully, we can resolve this and come back to finish our drinks!"

At her exclamation, her little band of about a dozen would cheer, whoop, holler, and fill the air with all sorts of noise as she would begin the small trek to the cantine hosting her prey. The dozen of them were dressed much like her officers, torn and altered uniforms with remnants of trooper armor placed about them mostly as a fashion statement or show of previous skill and rank. It wasn't ideal, but this was supposed to be shore leave.. and at this point, some protection was better than nothing.

After only a small journey her little squad would arrive at the entrance to the cantine, her joviality and comradery gone and replaced with the stern angry glare of a woman not to be trifled with, her gang behind her snickering and excited at the prospect of a firefight.

"Now which one of you karkin' Barve-heads has my stuff!" and from her belt she'd grab a simple-looking saber, the purple blade coming to life in an instant, its dull hum suddenly becoming the only sound in the room..

Arken Rhau Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

There was no time to waste in this circumstance, not to Alisteri at least, and he didn't hide that fact. He was right on Arken's heels the whole way to the cantina, muttering the occasional apology to the people that he brushed past a little too aggressively here or there. Normally he wouldn't mind taking his time and weaving through the crowd without causing much of a disturbance, but now was not a usual time. He had a potential problem on the horizon, and Force forbid if said potential problem got to one of his cultists before he did.

Better to be safe than sorry after all, especially with Krios and his bunch. He was relieved to have Arken going along with him for this though, having a second pair of hands just in case could prove invaluable. The other Sith may not always be the most subtle or cool-headed, but he was reliable in a pinch and he had yet to let the masked man down so far. Still, he'd rather diffuse or delay a situation himself. That way if any shooting or fighting were to break out then he could take the brunt of the damage, regeneration did have its perks. If only I had some decent armor or whatever else to stop the damage in the first place, but beggars and choosers as they say. And there were all too many beggars still on this station for his liking, and even more that would probably end up a beggar at some point.

He did his best to tear his gaze away from the crowds that they moved through or passed by, knowing that he had no time to pause and offer assistance. It was a strange thing really, he had seen and caused so much death in his time as a Sith and yet the sight of a child or starving family in need did more to wrench his heart than any suffering enemy. Then again, He mused with a small amount of grim mirth, these poor people have souls to feel sorry for.

But now was no time for pity, so he continued onward.

By the time that the pair of Acolytes arrived outside the cantina in question the masked man felt a mixture of guilt, pity, and an increasing sense of danger. There was only one of those that he could solve at the moment. And solve it he would. He barely acknowledged Arken's last ditch effort of stopping him, walking right past him and bursting into the cantina. It was just as much of a dive as the outside would imply. Sorry souls drinking their sorrows away, and among them was the joyful cheering of Krios and his brothers. His stride was paused, glancing around to take in the scenery and watch for threats. His observation was interrupted however, the mere sound of 'Master Alisteri' causing him to wince and slam his palm against the front of his mask.

'Savior of the Empire.' If only. He clicked his tongue and sighed, removing his hand from his vision just in time for a new group to stride into the place. At first he wasn't too concerned, and then the yelling lady pulled out a lightsaber. Oh. Well chit. The Sith's head snapped towards where he had left Arken, gesturing to Krios before quickly moving to put himself between the boisterous brothers and the 'pirates.'

Here's hoping my lying voice has improved. One final step later and he held up his hands, doing his best to block Krios and the others from view. "Hey now, we're all enjoying our drinks here miss, no need to go about waving a blade and accusing anyone of theft."

Arachnae Arken Rhau

 

[Arken Rhau]

Arken nodded at the other acolyte’s signal and was moving across the cantina in an instant, intent on getting to Krios and his kin first. They spotted his approach and another cheer went up. “Arken! Buddy!” The old soldier laughed, “Come, come, share a drink, join us! Spice?”

Yes…

“No!” He snapped, sending a ripple of frowns radiating out around the table.

Krios shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was an older man, dark hair bound up in a messy bun, a streak of gray in his scraggly beard and a nasty looking scar that ran all the way up from his lip to the milky white eye he proudly professed he earned fighting pirates in the Attican cluster in the name of the empire, before they kicked him out of the army dishounarbly of course. He’d never lost that military bravado, and it showed in his determination to hold fast to his good mood despite everything.

“Whatever is the matter, Arken?” He grinned.

A sudden and deafening silence fell upon the cantina, as if a storm had just rolled in through the front door. What followed was a hum, a familiar, hair raising hiss of ignition as a deep, violet glow filled the cantina completely. The girls around the table, and more than a few of the wiser patrons, decided that now was be a good time -a great time even- to call it a night and quickly started making their way towards the exits. Slowly, cautiously, Arken turned to face the fresh hell that had just walked in. “That.”

Standing there, amidst a crowd of none too happy looking young men and woman, was a threat he hadn’t even remotely detected. Hair like ashen snow, eyes a sizzling steel gray, the stranger burned with an intensity matched only by her lightsaber. It nearly left the young acolyte reeling. How had he not noticed such power until now?

“Who…”

“The spider woman.” Krios murmured in awe as he saddled up next to him. “She actually came.”

“I thought you were just hallucinating off the spice.”

Krios had the decency to look embarrassed. “I mean I was, but that’s neither here nor there. After you left though, I had an ingenious idea, didn’t I brothers.” The other two cultists were still staring dumbfounded at the purple lightsaber, glued to their seats and looking suddenly very sober. Arken couldn’t blame them, his own eyes glowing in the phosphorescent glare of the deadly weapon. He was starting to miss not having his own at his side all the more. “You see, I figured, why go looking for a buyer, when we already know where one is right here on the station!” Krios continued, so proud of himself he didn’t even notice the incredulity twisting Arken’s horrified expression. “So, I told her people where to find me and-”

“You what?!”

“Yes, well.” He blinked “I didn’t think she’d bring a lightsaber with her.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Or so many friends.”

Her ‘friends’ were a hard looking crew of ex imperials, young and brash, eager to prove themselves and none to kind to those they saw as disrespecting their authority. He knew the type all too well. There were two kinds of refugees borne in the empire’s collapse; those that were prey, and those that were predator. Looking at the mismatched uniforms and torn insignias, these ones had been groomed to be the latter. No one liked being the victim, and with half sith space fallen into chaos, it was difficult not to see it all as a bountiful new hunting grounds for those with the mindset to use such instability to their own advantage.

“Wait, is that the high priest?” Krios balked, pushing past to join his master’s side. Arken caught him with a stern hand and dragged him back. “We have to help him!” He squawked, hazy eyes wide with alarm, but not for his own safety. What a strange fellow he was, loyal to a fault. Alisteri had way of instilling such reverence in his followers, but in the old soldier he truly had found a die hard believer.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Growled Arken. He snapped his fingers over to the others in the booth. “You two, get back to the ship and warn them we’ve got trouble.” There had to be back exit of some sort, those Twi’leks had run off to somewhere after all. “As for you…” But Krios was gone, tearing himself from Arken's grip and drunkenly stumbling over to the confrontation going on between Haxim and this ‘Arachnae’ woman. Arken hissed after him, but there was no stopping the soldier.

“Oi!” He shouted at the mass of angry pirates. An inauspicious beginning to negotiations. “Don’t you know who you’re talking to, lass!” He thrust a accusatory finger at the highly armed, highly pissed off pirate captain and her gang. “This man, this man here pulled my ass out of the gutters when I had nothing…” Arken made to chase after the drunk as he went into his inebriated rant, the kind all drunks went into unprovoked and unwanted. He noticed the antique looking blaster tucked into the back of Krios's belt, hidden from the others as he stumbled up to them. "...but if you think you can disrespect my lord, you’ve got another thing coming!" The spiel went on, condemnations and praises dipping in and out of making any kind of sense. By the look on Krios's face, he seemed to think it was. The acolyte, sensing that things were going to go awry with or without his aid, instead opted to begin circling round to the side. If it really was too late to stop a bloodbath, he wanted to be in the best position he could to get the jump on them once the shooting fire started. “…and yah, I’m the one who took your spice alright!" He'd witnessed Alisteri talk his way out of some real messes before, the man had a knack for words, but this was quickly deteriorating into a no win situation and by the look in the young sith girl's eyes, there was going to be no hope of talking things out. "I mean, who do you even think you are?!”

Arachnae
Darth Strosius

 

[Arachnae]

Two contradictory things happened back to back, one man seemed to try to lie or at the very least negotiate while another stormed over shouting something or another in a.. drunken? state. She wasn't sure in what manner he was inebriated, but he seemed clouded. At the very least he was stupid to just storm up to her as if she was some petty bandit. The gall...

As Arachnae's fingers tightened around the silver handle of her blade, knuckles whitening under the black gloves she would try to keep her calm. Already from behind her she could feel her men egging her on silently, make a show of him, slice him in half and start tearing the place up. But she knew at least the one who tried to negotiate could prove a problem.. he certainly gave off 'sith vibes' so testing him was out of the question. Even if he reminded her of the old ways of the sith relying on superstition, magic, and pointless traditions, she was no knight and would prefer not to cross blades with him if he had one, especially since she had only just begun her formal education when it came to the blade.

At the moment her saber was more for intimidation, and with it she'd bring her arm up lazily to point the glimmering blade at Krios.

"I am Arachnae, captain of the Widowmark. And if you keep that tone of voice I'll be your executioner..." she'd pause a moment, glancing behind her at her men who had begun to fan out to encircle Krios and Alisteri. Only three of them were armed with blasters, the rest armed with knives, battons, and.. a table leg? She'd have to talk to that one later... He certainly wasn't contributing to the fear factor she was attempting to build up.

"Now I hope you'll simply understand your mistake and return what rightfully belongs to me.. pay me for it.. or find some other way to make it up to me or I will do... horrible... horrible things to you. The Empire taught me well how to torture fools like you for information.." A lie. A simple one and one she put her soul into, trying to make her small frame look as intimidating as possible.

Arken Rhau Darth Strosius

 

[Darth Strosius]

Good, she hasn't started swinging yet, maybe this can all be talked- His plans went awry the moment he heard a shout behind him. Krios Alt'Dan I am going to swat the fire from you at the end of this. He glanced back to the drunk ex-soldier stumbling forward, yelling as ever and with enough liquid courage to fight off a Rancor. The mask hid the annoyed sigh that left the Sith, holding his arm out to ensure that Krios couldn't pass him and get too close to the pirates in front of them.

The urge to facepalm was strong when Krios openly admitted to theft, but Alisteri wasn't going to give in and take his eyes off the situation.

He eyed the 'pirates' cautiously as they began to encircle him and his disciple, his free hand idly drifting down to the lightsaber at his side. Although he didn't care much for such rough looking types, they at least appeared to have been soldiers once upon a time. He'd rather not have to kill them, if only out of principle. "Easy now, let's not be too hasty." His head snapped back to Krios for a moment, the featureless mask still getting his point across. Krios had said his peace, he would not speak further.

In truth he wasn't too worried for himself, he had fought in the wars for goodness sake. A few dishonobale discharges with a lightsaber and various weapons, and a table leg? , didn't scare him. If anything, he was more worried about Krios getting wounded if there were a fight to break out, and that was about the only thing stopping him from lashing out.

Well, that and not wanting to make too much of a scene of course.

"Captain Arachnae, I apologize for my compatriot's rude tone. He sometimes forgets that we aren't in the service of the Empire anymore." His gaze flickered around, counting the various people still left in the cantina and trying to search for Arken. When he did see the other Sith, he made no motion to signify it. "I myself apologize for the inconvenience my men have caused, and I promise that your goods will be returned post-haste and without tampering. I'm afraid we don't have much in the way of credits to pay you back with though." Whatever they did have left, he wasn't about to give them up over a grievous mistake. He still had a ship to worry about after all.

"Perhaps you have some other form of...compensation that you would accept?"

Arken Rhau Arachnae