Private The Bearded Lekku

[Scherezade deWinter]

There were no signs pointing to The Bearded Lekku.

It was one of those places one could find by one of two ways. The first, word of mouth. You had to know people who knew people who maybe knew the right people. The second, was by following the scent of spice oil, the faint ozone from scorched circuity, and the smoke of death sticks. Frankly, the second way was much easier.

Very unlike Scherezade deWinter though, who for a change, had come to the place following the first path rather than the latter. Her boots crunched against the fungal grit of the Nightlands, every step softened by the tailored fall of her dress, a dark amethyst number with slits high enough to allow motion and danger, and sleeves loose enough to multiple blades. She had come without armor or any of her more noticeably toys. Just grace, and the quiet confidence of a predator who'd already counted exits before she entered.

The glowshrooms along the tunnel walls flickered as she passed, some reacting to her body heat, others perhaps to something else entirely.

She'd heard whispers of The Bearded Lekku. A gambling den carved into the bones of a war that never truly ended. A place where fortunes turned on dice, and destinies on dares. The games would make a lovely distraction, though they had not been the reason for her arrival. For all her great and many vices, Scherezade wasn't really a gambler at heart. Not with credits. She would still play them, of course, as she scanned the place, its people, and most importantly… its secrets

And maybe, just maybe, the drinks. It'd been a while since she'd last had something that came with a little paper umbrella in it.

The arched entrance loomed ahead, the metal scorched into stone, guarded by a pair of Trandoshan bouncers whose cybernetics hummed louder than their growls. They looked her up and down, nostrils flaring.

"Pit or Vault?" one rasped.

Scherezade smiled faintly.

She stepped past them without waiting for their verdict. The choice had already been made. "Pit," she purred after her back was already turned to them, pretending like there had never been a place she belonged to more than here.

Inside, the Bearded Lekku came alive. Neon glyphs in Twi'leki lit up the stairwells like tattoos, and a sabacc pot roared to life at a nearby table as someone lost a freighter and half their liver. A pair of Twi'lek twins wearing identical masks were dancing on a hovering dais, barely noticed among the crowd of drinkers, gamblers, and killers dressed in silk and spite. And the occasional scuffy farmer's outfit.

Scherezade paused at the landing, eyes scanning the crowd. Her target for the night had not yet arrived. But that was all right. She was a patient girl when she had to be. Slowly, she began to make her way towards the bar, the green glow of her eyes continuing to take the area in.

Yeah… Definitely some drink that came with an umbrella in it.

---

Damien Dooku​

 

[Damien Dooku]

[x]

The allure of credits at-all-costs was one sounded far too reasonable the more desperate things were for them. This was something that Damien had come to realize would probably be the case, were he not as savvy at making money like some of his crew back on their ship. But fast-money was hard to acquire when half the galaxy was trying to kill you, and that in itself made acquiring new jobs a bit tricky until things began to settle down enough for them to fly under the radar.

They'd stopped on Ryloth some time after their escape from Black Sun, and soon they all parted with missions of their own. Davik was headed into town to pick up some supplies with what little credits they had, while Morrow would stay back on the ship with R4 for repairs and security. That left Damien free to venture out on his own, heading into the city with Davik at first to try and make some credits legally. But when that failed miserably, it came to no surprise to his crewmate when Damien skipped off to the seedier parts of town on his own before emerging some time later with the coordinates for an establishment that suited men like him more than his Wayfinder friend.

Renting an old speeder-bike from a nearby store, Damien took off past the city outskirts, and out into the vast hinterlands that separated it from the wilds beyond. The journey took an uncomfortable few hours on the back of that piece of junk, but he would arrive within the vicinity of the Bearded Lekku in one piece. A short trek through a tunnel brought him up and around to the entrance, where two Trandoshans lingered menacingly on either side. A simple question followed, and the password was given almost immediately. Places like this tended to be more discreet when it came to non-locals being let in, but luckily he was rather persuasive when he needed to be.

Damien stepped in once the doors were swung open for him, and he paused long enough to raise a brow at just how bright and alive the place seemed to be. It was a reminder of the fact that he'd gotten far too use to the hives of scoundrels that were far too common in the territory of Black Sun.

Not wanting to draw too much attention to himself nonetheless, Damien stepped down onto the game floor proper, slowly circling the games and tables around the length of the whole floor before settling into an open Sabacc table nearest to the southern side of the building. Damien ordered a drink before the game started, his lips curling into a devilish grin once the first few cards were thrown down onto the table .His infamous luck had started his hand off strong, so even though he intended to play things easy at the start, he'd already beaten the dealer's hand after a few draws from the deck.

Damien would continue to win for another handful of rounds after that, easily collecting a few hundred credits from almost the start, but it was all luck and skill that was driving him forwards for now. Either way, he wouldn't be leaving until he'd cashed out atleast a few thousand credits by the time his crewmates had messaged him to return.

Scherezade deWinter ​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Damien Dooku

The table was already hot by the time she approached it.

Chips clinked and credits hissed as they were transferred, with players leaning forward like vultures or victims. And at the center of it sat a man with luck on his side and a grin that said he knew it.

Scherezade said nothing as she stepped up behind the empty chair, a pink drink in a sugar rimmed glass with an umbrella on top. Why say anything? The dealer's eyes met hers and noted their glow, causing him to hesitate just a moment too long before he gave her a stiff nod. Most of the others players were too dip in their growing debts to take notice.

She sat.

Her dark amethyst dress draped across the seat like liquid shadow, legs crossed, hands elegant but precise as she reached for her chips. Her eyes, though… they flicked to the man beside her., the lucky one, for the briefest of moments. Just a look. As if clocking him in her mind. Tucking him away.

The next hand began.

Cards flicked through the air like blades.

She played. Calm. Controlled. Winning the round was not her objective. Well… Not yet, anyway. She wanted the rhythm first, of the table, of the room. The language of the players. The scent of adrenaline and desperation.

The man beside her won again. She did not.

As the table began to ready for the next round, the Sithling took another sip from her drink, trying to ignore how sweet it was. More chips, more cards, and… Ah-ha! A new presence. Heavy foot steps, and a voice that was maybe familiar to some of those present, and maybe not. The last empty chair at their table had been filled, and Scherezade had the smallest feeling that the game wasn't about cards and credits anymore.

Good.