The Golden Slug Bar

[Lucas Straife]

The busy, bustling bar on a Coruscant skyscraper was location to twi'lek strippers, shady deathstick dealers, mandalorian mercenaries and much, much more. Everybody seemed to leave each other alone, bar fights only occurring every so often. It was a small bar with only one bartender. Around forty people were inside doing a variety of activities. People sat in red-pod like seating, while some were surrounding a game machine playing catch the ewok. One shady customer was sitting in the corner at the plain-durasteel table. Lucas Straife held corellian ale in his hand, sitting with two trandoshans playing pazaak with a deck of cards. There were still three spots open for anyone willing to join in and play.

It was small talk, Lucas Straife was quiet. Nobody knew who he was here, he went by the name Caligo. Ironic, the meaning of this name. Yet even that he prefers keeping a surprise to certain people. Only his family, @[member="Darth Avara"] and @[member="Kuroth Straife"] knew it. He had hoped one of them might of turned up for a drink and a game of cards by now but he wasn't fussy who wants to play him. Both trandoshans after losing their money get up, grumbling about paying back debts. They slid out of the bar quietly, leaving an empty table completely. Sighing, Caligo just wants someone to play with. Sitting here for a few more hours, may do the trick.

@[member="Vereor"] @[member="Zoey Marix"]

 

[Keeper of Secrets]

Normally, when he wasn't ripping off the people of Coruscant, Bolivar often found himself in such bars as this. Though the casual eye might have spotted him as a thief, it really made no mind to him. After all, what was life without a little fun? Swirling his drink a few times, he took a swig and glanced across the bar where he had just noticed two lizard-men walk away from a table, obviously stumped or angered. Perhaps they had lost their hand at pazaak or holochess? Upon further examination, it appeared to be the former. A light chuckle coming around, he walked over and sat down. "Those young men seemed a little down, you mind entertaining me in a nice game of pazaak my friend?"

@[member="Lucas Straife"]

 

[Garza]

Dressed rather provocative in my robes. It revealed alot of leg, and left side of my chest. But still covered myself to be very slightly modest. Carrying a sword along the small of my back and a bracer on my left arm. I stood at the bar taking a shot down my throat. The burning liquid revived me from my long hours of doing not so much. Courscant was not a place where I would normally be, but with my time off that I had from the Moross Crusade. I wanted a place where I could break the law every once in a while.

I looked around the room to see a man sitting in the back, very shady. VERY SHADY. I could feel his power in the force. And that all that I needed to know. As I was walking over, another man took my place walking straight in front of me. Sitting down at the table that I was going towards I shook my head. Words came out of his mouth of playing Pazaak. I sat down on the other side of the table and pointed my finger at the finely dressed man. "Next time watch where you are walking. They just might knock your block off." Turning to the Shady force user, I nodded my head. "Sorry about the interruption."

@[member="Lucas Straife"]

 

[Lucas Straife]

Lucas glanced to the two guests which had come to his table. He first replied to the first of the two. "You'd be wise not to call me a friend, especially when you'll lose most of your money." A flicker of a smile appeared on his face, clearly confident in his ability to win. He was only seventeen yet with the confidence of someone who has played and lived in this world for a long time. "Please, take a seat. My name is Caligo, what is yours?"

As soon as the man positioned himself to sit down, the female right behind him took the other seat. He grinned at her attitude, enjoying her presence already. It added somewhat a flair to the proceedings, guessing that it'd be boring just with this guy. Nodding his head to her apology, his eyes trailed along her body, clearly enjoying the revealing nature of her robes. He was seventeen after all, what do most teenagers think about at this age? His smile was charming, somewhat a warmth to it. A whole contrast to the rest of his face, which seemed cold and pale. He removed his hood, his fluffy short brown hair being released. "And which God created you...?" He left an openness to try and find out her name. He was clearly going to enjoy this conversation. He already had ignored the other man who sat down.

@[member="Zoey Marix"] @[member="Bolivar Daniels"]

 

[Adamus Straife]

Avara entered the bar, sporting attire he had not worn in years. He had left his masked persona behind, knowing that no person but his brother would realise the truth of his identity. He was merely a man who had come for a drink, and a game of pazaak. He was dressed finely, like his brother, and his presence gave an atmosphere of sophistication and mystery. He liked finesse, part of the reason why he incorporated Makashi into his bladework, though he liked solidarity, strength, and power more. He brushed his hair back for this occasion, and his chiseled jaw covered in styled black stubble would certainly make a catch with the ladies. Let it never be said that Lucas was the brother with all the charisma. Avara had a knack for deception, and the magnetism he pervaded was impressive indeed.

There he saw Lucas sitting at a pazaak table with a Corellian ale clutched within his hand. Avara dipped his his hand within his jacket pocket, revealing a data card nestled firmly between two fingers. He slipped it toward the bartender with a charming smile. "Open up a tab, and give me a round of juma juice. Alcholic."
"Coming right up, sir," the bartender said. Avara made his way to the pazaak table, spotting an empty seat next to a lady dressed in a rather revealing set of robes. She covered herself amicably enough, but he saw that her intention was to draw eyes upon her. Hidden in plain sight. She reeked of the dark side, something Avara found irrevocably attractive. With keen enough senses, @[member="Zoey Marix"] could have sensed it on him too, though he had made sure to conceal it enough not to appear obvious, especially to the Jedi. With a smile, he regarded her, and then glanced toward his brother. "Gambling without me, Lucas? I'm insulted."

@[member="Lucas Straife"] @[member="Bolivar Daniels"]

 

[Keeper of Secrets]

Bolivar let loose one of his flashy smiles as he noticed the bright-haired woman sitting down opposite him. The young boy he had originally addressed had seemed to also be interested, as he practically undressed her with his eyes. Teens were so predictable. Chuckling softly at the boy's comment, he raised an eyebrow. He seemed overly confident in himself. "But if i'm not to call you friend, then what shall I call you? You certainly haven't made yourself an enemy yet, so I shall continue to refer to you as a friend. However, what makes you think you will win by default? For all you know, you've already lost. Never keep yourself in such high esteem." Before he felt like he was giving a lecture, he pulled out his own deck of cards, just as yet another robed man joined the party. "Ah, the more the merrier. Are you this young man's legal guardian?" It was an honest guess, he hadn't seen the man's face to juge an age yet, and he seemed to know the teenager fairly well. Leaning back a little, he began to shuffle his cards a bit.

@[member="Zoey Marix"] @[member="Darth Avara"] @[member="Lucas Straife"]

 

[Garza]

I could feel eyes on me. ANd I knew they were the shade man's eyes probably undressing me in his mind. Which he could probably never do in his life. The man asked me which god created me, I smiled as I leaned forwards. "Not the one who made you." I had to make a quip at him Guys always tried to say things like this. and sometimes it was easy to get them off for a while. A third man showed up and sat right next to me. Showing that he knew the shade man. I turned to him. I could feel the force in his body, and it felt muffled? Like being blurred. Either way, the man looked rather nice.

I pointed at the both of them. "Siblings?" I could see how they had acted to one another. Having an older brother he treated me about the same way. Even then, Now I was remembering how he had left me. Taking a second of that thought, I flashed back to real life.

@[member="Bolivar Daniels"], @[member="Darth Avara"], @[member="Lucas Straife"]

 

[Lucas Straife]

He sensed his brother's entrance, although he still had pressing matters at hand. These two lovely guests. He looks towards Bolivar, smiling devilishly towards him. "Refer to me as friend again, I'll cut out your tongue. I'll eat it myself." Their was a surprising, authoritatively threatening tone to his voice, unusual coming from such a young male. Yet it somehow remained cool and collected. But he clearly meant every word. "And yes, I've already won." Lucas spent many years playing pazaak, with many people older than him and he learned growing up from the age of seven. Ten years and he was a master at the game within three. Nobody has bested him except his brother, even then that was a rare occurrence. By that point, Adamus sat down at the table, his brother. The glare in Lucas' eyes continued momentarily. His eyes flickered onto his brother and frowned.

"Do I know you? My name is Caligo. Not Lucas." The tone to his voice again was calm and collected, so there was somewhat a truth to the phrase. His brother had taught him to use an alias, yet he's the foolish one to say my name to other people? Pathetic. "What's your name?" The previously held mindlink between the two activated as they spoke to each other through mind. "You told me to use an alias, brother. Now we have to pretend not to know each other." At that side of hostility, the quip came from the female at his side. His charming smile came across his face, although he was fuming inside at being bested by this female. He snapped back at her, showing signs of aggression, yet the comeback was still in a calculated tone. "The devil created me. Only the devil creates creatures magnificent. God values everything to be...attractive and used as a tool. As is shown with you."

He took a drink from his corellian ale, trying to sooth the feelings he has underneath his cold exterior. He nods his head a few times before replying to her last question. "Siblings? Why would we be Siblings? I rarely know this man, I may have met him once or twice." He rested his right hand on his lap, leaning back into his chair. He leaned forward, grabbing his cards. "So are we going to keep talking jibberish or play?" He was now in the mindset, he wanted to beat them all. He was obsessive over certain things, pazaak was one of them. He couldn't stand losing. He doubted he'd lose this time either.

@[member="Darth Avara"] @[member="Zoey Marix"] @[member="Bolivar Daniels"]

 

[Adamus Straife]

He bought himself into the pazaak game and waited for the round to end. He gave quick glances to the red-headed female. He loved redheads, but he wouldn't make it so obvious. By the structure of her body, and her face, she looked to be around the same age as himself. She was a beauty, but Avara would not give her the satisfaction of believing she had gained another admirer. Oh, how he loved to tease. His signature, charming smirk did the rest for him. "Apologies," he said, quickly turning the situation around and appearing as convincing as possible. "You reminded me of a man I once knew. His name was Lucas. Poor old fellow. Lost his head when he didn't pay his debts."

He ignored his brother's telepathy for now, instead choosing the art of body language and eye contact. For years they had learned to communicate without uttering a single word, it would come to use now. As the cards were being dealt, the bartender came over holding a tray upon his palm; each bearing four glasses upon them filled with alcoholic juma juice. The bartender set the drinks down before each patron, though they could of course refuse, Avara did not care. He was more amused in trying to guess which one of them would believe that their drinks were spiked. Poison was an effective tool, yes, but to use it on complete strangers was folly. No, he wished to acquaint himself with these people. Allies in every corner would benefit him in the long run. "To good health," he chimed in as he lifted his glass to the group. His green eyes flicked to the redhead again. His mysterious smile drawn across his face again. "And a good night, perhaps."

@[member="Zoey Marix"] @[member="Bolivar Daniels"] @[member="Lucas Straife"]

 

[Alan]

Tracyn looked up from the bar, his tattooed fimly grasping a drink, cradling it like a child. Grim as it may sound, the bottle in recent days had become Tracyn's liquid escape. The patrons in the bar didn't concern him, nor did their inherent traits. Tracyn was adept at many things, and his curse at the moment and blessing in others, was awareness. He was hyper aware. All the time. He could never relax.

Someone said that the Demon was not born of flesh and blood, but of ash and iron. He was molded by war and fleshed out by rage. The Jedi helped him contain it, for a number of years. Containment, however, did not mean resolution. After Metalorn, after Ossus, after the Dark Harvest. And especially after Yaga Minor, everything that he kept down, locked away, broke free, in a rampage on his soul and mind.

Another drink, straight. He had a few Banthazolate pills left over, enough to get a decen high. His body built up a tolerance and so did his mind. It took more and more to get him even a little out of it now. So, back to his clear savior, his liquid release. He eyed the redhead, and then the two others near her. Pazaak. He was tipsy, but he wasn't drunk. Adjusting the leather jacket that he wore in lieu of his armor, the seemingly unarmed man walked over to the table. Tracyn was never really unarmed, he had his powerful, deadly hands. Adept and a practitioner of 3 or more martial arts, and more importantly, took away the more important aspects of Teras Kasi, the near-immunity to mental probing and force based mental tricks.

Tracyn pulled up a chair, to what he assumed was a gathering of extremely attractive people. He cleared his throat before speaking. He spoke in the concord dawn accent, but his voice was more raspy, more soft spoken. He turned at each person present, before his lips parted and his vocal chords started to move.

"Room for one more?"

Tracyn hoped his...reputation wouldn't exclude him from the game or the company. He was slightly note worthy, having been Ori'ramikade and present at many of the main battles that the republic waged, and one of the more pivotal ones in the recent Mandalorian ones. He smiled at the individuals at the table, a grim smile. He seemed to be less of a man and more of a Joe Black figure, a humanized form of death, the absolute end. He had brought so much of it that it wreaked off him, he could no longer hide it, even if he tried. Tracyn shifted, feeling the weight of his lightsaber inside the inside pocket of his jacket. Just in case.

In case this pleasant game turned into a bar room brawl.

@[member="Darth Avara"] @[member="Lucas Straife"] @[member="Zoey Marix"]

 

[Keeper of Secrets]

"Very well, I shall not call you a friend. Not up to me what you favor in terms of a name." Bolivar chuckled and straightened his leather overcoat when a server came with a tray containing four drinks. Respectively, he took one, but he wasn't much of a drinker before a game. He preferred to keep his head tightly screwed on, especially in that case that he didn't win. He had played pazaak on and off for many years, still no doubt moreoften that the teenager. He had a quirky mouth, and though he may have been telling the truth, Bolivar was sure he had more experience. Being almost in his mid thirties, it was quite hard to forget the countless times of playing a game of pazaak among friends, him often winning or coming in second place at the least. He didn't want to say much, but he had the skills. All it really took was a good poker far and a nice bluff, with a hint of perception. It wasn't exactly go fish, but the game did have it's interesting moments. As he was dealt his cards, he looked over one of the men's shoulder as someone else arrived.

Smiling, Bolivar nodded at the newcomer. "It see we have another guest. By all means, join us. And here, would you mind finishing this up for me? You seem to be much more able to put it away than I am." Raising his glass to the man, he offered it kindly, as he had seen him drinking shot after shot earlier.

@[member="Zoey Marix"] @[member="Tracyn Ordo"] @[member="Darth Avara"] @[member="Lucas Straife"]

 

[Vereor]

Coruscant had always been one of those places in the galaxy where Vereor thought he would never walk alone. It was loud and bright, busy and dangerous, even for users of the Force's dark side. He stopped at the edge of the walkway he wandered along, which leant over into a drop at least a few miles below. It was higher than those more frequently visited; littered with the flashing neon lights of the clubs and bars and intoxication and temptation found by younger generations. This promenade had no fence, no protection to stop someone jumping off to their death. Or being pushed. But neither of those two possibilities occurred. Not that the latter would have been successful anyway.
From here he looked out into the growing shade and dark that eventually encompassed all. It started in the lower levels as the day went on and gradually made its way up them, slowly reaching the top just as the sun started to set behind orange clouds and silhouetted towers. The stay only took a few moments, but before long he was off again, hands behind his back and trailing robes unlike those of Sith. Today he wore clothes more suited to the upper-echelons of Coruscanti society: navy blue with sleeves pin-striped in black and a golden trim. The decision to wear this attire came at a whim. As did most of his decisions now-a-days. He thought that, since he had no route to travel, or goals to accomplish, or purpose in such a fast-paced galaxy that the Force would inform and guide him through the rest of his life.

After walking for a good half an hour, talking routes that previously he would have not, there came into view a place he had not seen in a long, long time. A popular bar, detached from those around it: without the flashing lights or the loud music or security required for good revenue. It was unique. The Golden Slug. Upon wandering in the familiar place he noticed many beings sat in groups with few individuals. The interior still had its charm and brought a smile to Vereor's face - even if it was short-lived.
A table towards the other side of the Slug perked his interest; there were Force-users sat there. A good few of them as well. Eyes narrowed and feet moved towards the bar to order a simple drink of water. The bartender asked for no money because of the liquid being essential to most forms of life, but Vereor did not drink it after seeing the cleanliness of some other glasses neatly tucked away. His gaze returned to the table.

@[member="Bolivar Daniels"] @[member="Tracyn Ordo"] @[member="Darth Avara"] @[member="Lucas Straife"] @[member="Zoey Marix"]