Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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The Ordo's Sends Their Regards(One Sith Dominion of Ashera)

Sierra took flight and looked down upon the crowds moving along as she held her rifle and pumped her wings. Slowly rising until she could ride the currents in the air and glide further out towards the ships with a sneer on her face. The vanr were proud and she was looking forward to bringing them back to semi importance within the One Sith.. maybe unite the ones who were scattered into a sizable clan in case they ever got to retake Dromuund Kaas and gain their revenge against the mandalorians. She saw one of the elves and came down while holding the rifle and her anklets clinked together with the powering up of the rifle. "Move along Asherian we have special plans for you."
 
An Ewok in full tribal regalia promptly trundled into the room unannounced. He wore two peculiar gauntlets of bronzium hue and carried what appeared to be a blowgun carved from genuine bone. The three foot mass of fur stared at the display case housing the holocron for all of two seconds before swinging the aforementioned blowgun in a short arc. The display case shattered. One furry paw grabbed the pyramidal shape inside and stuffed it in a satchel, then the Ewok began to waddle past [member="Darth Janus"].

"'Scuz."
 
[member="Warok the Defiler"]

Janus, bewildered as he was by the sudden appearance of the Ewok, was forced to act anyway. He wasn't the violent type, now more than ever considering the malevolent little ball of fur was holding a precious relic he fully intended to add to his growing collection. Darth Janus quickly stepped into Warok's path, blocking his hasty exit. The beginnings of an agitated grimace tugged at the edges of the Umbaran's face, though it was suppressed well enough. He was willing to bargain with this... Creature.

"Pardon, but that bauble you just procured was my intended target. Hand it over at once and I'll see you receive something of equal or greater value."

There. That wasn't terribly unreasonable. This museum was practically loaded with artifacts of far greater value. Surely there was something in it he could tantalize this miniature abomination with.
 
The Ewok toddled to a halt and looked over his shoulder. Beady eyes set deep within tufts of fur regarded [member="Darth Janus"] with an amount of impish intelligence far greater than any creature of Warok's size had any right to be lugging around.

A non-comittal grunt/squeak opened the initial bargaining salvo. Warok turned back and tottered up to the Umbaran. "Bauble? Wisdom of the Ancient Ones, Long Forgotten. The Great Lords," he muttered something in Ewokese, "Bauble? Pwah. Chuk-chuk nchak." The overgrown teddy bear shook his head. "What will you give? What will the White One promise Warok?" he said in the sharply lilting accent of Endor.
 
[member="Warok the Defiler"]

The disgruntled Umbaran clasped his hands behind his back. Great. It was speaking some degenerate tribal dialect now. Oh, how the mighty would lower themselves when confronted with small critters that held priceless relics for ransom. Janus' jaw tightened as he bit back a scathing insult and tried to decide whether it would be patronizing to kneel and speak to the Ewok at eye level. He silently deduced the answer to that was best summed up as "yes" and proceeded to make his case from his current elevation.

"I can assure you that the information stored on that holocron is all but useless to you." Janus said, sounding sincere for the first time in many, many months. "I can find you something more suited to your skillset."

Frankly, Janus doubted there were any holocrons that provided information on scavenging for berries or constructing log traps that flattened Imperial AT-STs (or whatever it was Ewoks did in their spare time), but it was worth a shot. Obviously this acolyte had to have some tangible skill in the Force if he was fraternizing among the One Sith... And getting into the upper levels of museums he shouldn't be in...
 
"The Forbidden Arts of Bondage, Discipline and Sado-Masochism by Darth Balaya," replied Warok immediately, stone-faced.

"And Tsaiwinnoka Hoyakut, Invoke Spirits, or Metamorphosis."

He reached a paw up to stroke one of several shrunken heads hanging from a bone fetish necklace while he waited for a reply.
[member="Darth Janus"]
 
[member="Warok the Defiler"]

The significantly less adorable right eye of Darth Janus would twitch at this juncture. A possible sign of annoyance. He tried to ignore the creature stroking the shrunken heads hanging from its necklace. How utterly uncivilized. Janus could only hope this would be the last time they crossed paths.

"Well, I'm not quite sure Darth Balaya has the ability to string together coherent thoughts, much less author a book under the title as you've described." He continued. "I do, however, have in my possession a scroll of Tsaiwinnoka Hoyakut. I have little use for spells. I am more than willing to part with it in return for your compliance."
 
"Deal," growled the little fur ball before suddenly making a horrific hacking sound and spitting a huge gob of saliva into his paw, which he then extended toward [member="Darth Janus"]. "Clasp of paws seals all in sacred bond. The spirits will honor this agreement."
 
[member="Warok the Defiler"] | [member="Natasi Fortan"]

Initially, Janus hesitated. Then he remembered that he was a master of the Force and had survived countless humiliations and defeats. He could handle a little bit of Ewok slobber from a handshake. This didn't stop him from cringing internally as he bent over to shake the Ewok's tiny little hand. Lo, again, how the mighty had fallen. Or, in this case, bent over to strike a deal with a furry little cretin. The warm mucus pressed against his palm was probably one of the more disgusting experiences of his life. A real shame Natasi had to be present for this, of all things.

"Very well, then. I'll have it fetched from my ship." Janus said, eventually relinquishing his grip. He discreetly moved his hand behind his back once again. "I imagine we're finished here, then. We'll have to continue back outside."
 
"Good business, White One. Warok-" the imp frowned, adjusted his jaw, then continued, "I... will.... stay here and wait."

His basic was badly stammered, but intelligible and, for once, grammatically correct. He longed to speak in his native language, in which he had been a renowned orator of his people. Sadly he had to continue conversing in this barbaric tongue, trapped by the limits of his mortal mind.

Warok heaved a heavy sigh, suddenly lost in deep introspection.

[member="Darth Janus"]
 

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