The Ballad of a Drunken Bum (Character introduction)

[Blade]

Music: https://soundcloud.com/lonnie-howard-747341755/star-wars-cantina-band-dj-ag-remix
Location: Coruscant, Club on Level 1313

Blade sifted his way through the crowds of lowlife drunks, and aliens, as they partied to the sound of the electrical music beat. With every beat, the color changed from pink, purple, and then to darkness, while lasers shined up and down through the foggy internal atmosphere. Blade kept a hard grip on his belt, being sure not to be the victim of some damned thieving scum. As he pushed through, people carelessly chugged their drinks while jumping to the beat. Blade was making his way towards the center of the room, towards twei'lik dancers, as the songs shifted. The whole room, even through his filters, wreaked of cheap drinks and deathsticks, the smell wouldn't stop him though, he kept on closer and closer to the center.

As he was walking, a hand grabbed hold of his shoulder, "Hey buddy, whe'r can I, *hiccup*, sorry, where can I get a swordlikedaa?" The man stumbled over his words as Blade froze.

He turned, looking at the drunken fool and nodded his head slowly, and grabbed the hand off his shoulder, clenching it hard. "Didn't anyone ever tell you to keep your damn hands to yourself?" He pulled down on the man's arm, Uncomfortably twisting it, "Because I'm not in the mood to parent," Blade pulled the man close to his helmet, staring into his eyes, waiting.

"Well... Ididn't meeean anythin- *hiccup* by it." He tried to pull away but the man twisted harder, this must have sobered him up momentarily, "Sh|t! Let go, I'm sorry." The man's face showed true terror, suddenly he was released.

"You're not worth my time, now get lost.!" Blade punched the man in the groin and then pushed him back, falling near another drunk group. He turned away and continued on. As he reached the adjacent side of the bar, he spotted the purple fluorescent lights of a private office, along with two massive droids guarding it.

"That's the one." He muttered to himself as he stepped towards the room.

 

[kiron]

kiron sits at his desk , with his slave standing behind him, drinking a strong alchol when he sees a suspicious man walking towards his office. he tells his droids to let him in.

" well who do we have hear? you some wannabe slaver trying to get in good with the pros? or are you here you to kill me? either way this wont end how you think. "

 

[Cedric Grayson]

(Phone post. Bad formatting.)

Silence had always been his way.

The cowled man lingered at the back of the club, arms folded about his chest as he observed the club’s clientele. Others might have seen people simply enjoying themselves on the weekend. Darius saw a horde of raving degenerates flailing about desperately in search of the next thrill. These were craven creatures with empty lives, and they fooled themselves into thinking they served any sort of purpose. They chose to be happy simply for the sake of it, rather than earning it, and Darius hated them for that.

The exile grit his teeth as a flash of violence pulled him from his brooding thoughts. He felt the shift within the empyrean as a wave of conflict that was quickly swallowed up by the chaos and decadence of the club. It was a brief, fleeting feeling, but it was enough.

The shadows clung to Darius like a cloak as he made his way down the periphery of the club. No one paid him any mind; his simple force tricks made him appear as little more than a vague silhouette to any curious onlookers. He stalked his prey like a starved beast, and felt the familiar sensation of blood thundering in his ears.

There is no emotion.

The old mantra calmed his addled nerves as he drew himself up to the bar. A simple click of his tongue focused the audio receptors of his helmet, allowing him to eavesdrop somewhat on what went on in the office nearby, so long as he consistently kept his head turned toward it.

“Whatcha drinking?” Asked the Nautolan bartender.

“Balmoraan Bluesky.” Darius replied without turning back. He slid a credit chip across the bar, popped the lower seals on his helmet, and contented himself with drinking the fizzy blue drink that was brought to him as he listened in.

[member="Blade"] [member="kiron"]

 

[The White Knight]

​The White Knight usually didn't go into cantinas. He had no reason to do so ever since he put the suit on, long before these other beings around him were even born. Either way, he just finished exploring all of the locations of the Sith Empire he served to find them all trashed. Abandoned. Forgotten. With this knowledge and realization, he needed a drink, even if it meant drinking through a straw that was inserted into his helmet's breathing vent.

The Cantina itself was lively, though all The White Knight was worried about was just relaxation. He got himself over to the bar, and waited for the bartender to come up to him. Some people whispered to themselves as they took notice of the way he appeared; As if Darth Vader came back from the dead. "What do ya want, weirdo?" The Bartender eventually asked.

"Boga Noda" Was all that The Knight said, although the bartender gave a confused look at him. "Boga Whatta?" "Just get me some kind of ale...Oh, and I'll need a straw as well." Although the bartender gave him a bit of a strange look when he asked for a straw, he complied and grabbed him a Lager with a straw in the glass. The White Knight thanked the bartender with some credits tossed his way, before he stuck the straw into a small hole in the breathing filter of his helmet, and he began to drink away in peace, although he was sitting next to an equally sized masked man whom he could sense the Force off of just by sitting near by him. He wondered if the man could sense him as well, but he didn't say anything...yet.

[member="Darius Sedaire"] [member="kiron"] [member="Blade"]

 

[Cedric Grayson]

Something new drew the exile's attention. He momentarily shifted his gaze away from the office, and let it settle upon a figure encased in armor white as snow. The stranger was a little overdressed for a place like this, but then Darius supposed he was much the same. He made an active effort not to turn his head away from the office, lest he miss anything said that might be important to him.

Darius closed his eyes as he reached out into the empyrean. The Force was both lively and deadened here; the vast amount of life caged packed into such a small space was almost overwhelming to the senses, but almost all of the beings Darius felt were deaf to the Force's call. All save for one.

"You some kind of Sith cosplayer?" The exile asked quietly. The cowled man tilted his head toward [member="The White Knight"], though his head did not turn away from the nearby office. "I've only ever seen Rens dressed like Darth Vader, something of an odd fetish many of them seem to share. You one of them?" A brow was lofted, though Darius's expression was hidden by the steel visage of his mask.

[member="kiron"], [member="Blade"]

 

[The White Knight]

"I'm sorry? Cosplayer?" The White Knight looked over towards [member="Darius Sedaire"] and stopped drinking, after hearing the man go off about Darth Vader and that only some group called "Rens" dress up like him. He felt a bit insulted, but he hadn't been in a Cantina since his defense of the capital city of Dromund Kaas, he understood why the man questioned him.

"I am no 'Cosplayer' nor no...What was it again? A Ren? Anyway...I am The White Knight, Sith Knight of the Second Sith Empire, Ruled by Darth Re-" He stopped himself before he named the last known Dark Lord of the Sith he took orders from, recalling that he was, again, a man out of time. He cleared his throat, before speaking up again.

"So to answer your question, No. I am not a Ren, nor a Cosplayer. I had this suit constructed by Sith Engineers so then I could use it for my own purposes."

The White Knight wouldn't be surprised if the man put the pieces together about what exactly what part of time he came from, and braced himself for one hell of an interrogation.

[member="kiron"] [member="Blade"]

 

[Blade]

Blade walked hesitantly as [member="kiron"] called him in. He looked around, scanning the walls for any sign of a quick escape. He looked up towards the bar-side wall and spotted a weak spot in the corner, slightly bent and visibly unsound. He kept his scan discreet, moving his eyes mostly rather than his head, before moving to the man. He stopped a few feet from the table, cloak flowing down alongside his jetpack, and slightly hiding the holster on his right hip. He made sure to keep the barrel of his rifle on his back within reach, slightly grazing it with his hand.

"Well, who do we have here? Are you some wannabe slaver trying to get in good with the pros, or are you here you to kill me? I don't think this will end how you think. "

Blade nodded slightly in acknowledgment to what the man said but spoke no words, simply grazing his belt and discretely bringing forth a golden card. He flashed it to the man and slid it across the table, It wasn't his name, but that of another in the establishment. Blade nodded as if approving that it was truly his intention. The man picked up the card, which read " [member="Mad Jack"] ". With the man's place in the club, he had to of known of all the patrons who came in. Sure the regulars were known, but a new name would narrow it down for the man.

[member="The White Knight"] [member="Darius Sedaire"]

 

[TI-34]

As the mechanical music sounded, Jack sat chugging drinks, one after another with no way to keep count. Jack rolled his head back after swallowing a shot of blue foam at the bar and went to stand, he left his helmet beneath his chair and pulled up a nozzle from which he sucked out pure oxygen, He felt a little better. After at least 10 shots, Jack decided it was time to go talk or something else. He walked over towards a group of women and female aliens and began flirting. He talked about the places he saw, where he'd gone, and why he was wearing Mandalorian armor at such a place. After a few minutes, the conversations lost their way and Jack walked back to the bar. He leaned down and picked up his helmet, flagging down the waiter for some water before slipping it on. He stood for a second and though. For starters, he had to piss, and secondly, The Mandalorians probably had someone on his tail at this point. With a bounty of 5 million on his head, he wasn't exactly thinking clearly when he decided to stay on Coruscant for 2 weeks, he had been here way too long.

"Thanks," he passed some credits to the waiter as a tip and slid his helmet on, careful not to be ID'd. He walked into the bathroom and a few minutes later walked out and began heading towards the exit. As he walked, he glanced up at the beautiful dancers and the crowds of people partying near the bar. He walked past the office where [member="kiron"] and [member="Blade"] were and started pushing his way towards the door.

[member="The White Knight"] [member="Darius Sedaire"]

 

[kiron]

" ahh [member="Blade"] a friend of yours? or is this the [member="Mad Jack"] that I have heard so little about "

he whispers something to his slave and she walks into a back room.

" now" he pulls out his gun and aims it at [member="Mad Jack"] " who the hell are you and why are you in my office? "