The Rising Tide [Faction - The Reborn Imperium]

[Astoach]

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The Rising Tide​

The Recruitment of Evelina Montecratise and the Blood Hand​

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Imperial Paladin Astoach was not entirely certain what he expected when he traveled to the planet of Gamor. Actually, he did expect the pigs and, in that case, he was absolutely correct. Gamorreans, the ancient servants of the Hutt clans, densely populated this planet and, much to his surprise, they did little to stink up the market. The Boam Clan housed a dense village, one with utterly obsolete technology, so much so that it was almost of a medieval level with various animal skins and melee-oriented weaponry crafted from wood and metal, but held an air of power and cleanliness to it. The streets were paved and ornate, flanked only by small clusters of gaunt, gamorrean children who, comically, duked it out along the side of the road like some adolescent gang war. Astoach did not stop to watch, however, for he was here on the matters of business and, as he held it, so long as there was business to be done, there would be no time for fun.

He was a bit awe-struck at the culture presented, one that held obvious high regard for many types of species clustered along the market center among the local pig-creatures, often shopping for tapestries along the lamp-lined shops, occupied by an additional variation of race and ethnicity. He was so stricken by awe in fact, he nearly collided into a large-breasted gamorrean female, a sow, earning a beady, greasy glare before she toddled off to terrorize what other unfortunately distracted traveler might lurk around the corner. Astoach was well aware of the Boam Clan's notoriety for their mercenaries, but he was unaware that they held civilized passions, such as architecture and art, in high esteem. Somewhere beneath that black mask of his, something akin to respect began to filter through into his expression, although it remained concealed.

He weaved through the clustered crowds gathered before a performer, a protocol droid with augmented joints, spiraling about in flexible tricks much to the screeching delight of the crowd. Indeed, it was amusing, but it only furthered to render Astoach into a deep-rooted air of anticipation. The town around him only contributed to their air of professionalism and success, for the Boam Village sharply contrasted the surrounding culture, whose cities were composed of stockpiled slums and their people lived among the parasites. They were the ones he wanted, he knew this, for all the rest were little more than cannon fodder and these pigs would be a true testimony to the Imperium's might. He must have them as a show of power for Eisei, nothing else would do until the army completed construction.

Before him, upon a small incline, sat the town hall, a tremendous, stooped and domed building that glimmered haughtily in the sun. He could almost smell the reek of testosterone from here. He paused to flex his neck, contemplating the plan before him and he knew well what to expect. He would have to prove his strength, without a doubt and, come their approval, he would have to provide them with the due respect and offer, for to offend these beasts would mean the end of all negotiation, and Astoach, not one to let loose ends run amok, would have Thraxxus carpet bomb the hall in that ramshackle Y-Wing of his, regardless if the Paladin himself would escape or not. Yet, he felt no fear, for confidence was one of those bits that made Astoach the dangerous creature he was and, pausing at the door, he glanced towards the bright blue sky, catching a glimpse of that faint Y drifting into the cloudline. He would take no chances.

[member="Evelina Montecratise"]

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Evelina hated the pig creatures that infested this backwater planet. Really really hated them, they were slow, they were stupid but worst of all they were ugly. Gamor Might well have been beautiful were all the Gamorreans to travel to the Hutt territories to be enslaved, maybe then some class would leak into the planet. Sadly for now she would just have to cope. Had she known that coming here would mean constantly mixing with pigs, she would no doubt have stayed on Lorrd. The people there might look down on her but at least they looked nice, snouts had no place outside of a kitchen. She did admit however that the pig people had a single redeeming feature they did excellent things with fur. The coats produced for sale on Gamor were perhaps the best in the world.

​The same culture that had instilled admiration and awe in [member="Astoach"], instilled a disdain in Evelina, she couldn't deny that the rustic image of the planet had potential. It needed a firm hand to drag it into the modern world, a bit of reliable electricity here a real doctor there and finally a sausage factory. That should solve all the issues the planet had. Sadly she was in no position to change anything so she just had to smile and play nice until she could leave. One might wonder why she stayed in a place that she hated so much, the answer was a simple one 'Lieutenant Blieth Hero of the river of skulls' Her latest conquest.

Blieth was neither smart nor particularly attractive. He was a good decade older than Evilina and he was rugged. However he was also rich and he was going places as one of the most senior mercenaries in a rapidly growing organisation, The blood hand mercenaries. Blieth was a hot ticket and Eviline had the monopoly on him, if the price of that ticket was a legion of pigs Eviline would pay it and she would do so with a sweet smile and a the humility of a saint. Sometimes however it is hard to smile.

Now was one of the times when smiling was hard. She was sat beside the good 'lieutenant' in the town hall, swaddled in a heavy fur coat to hide her rather overt body signals. She was surrounded by mercenaries, those she could cope with. but the hall was also full of the pigs ... who let these monstrosities breed. She couldn't look anywhere without catching sight of one. so she had laid her head into her compadre's cloak. She had made noises about not wanting to watch the violence of the trials. That was a lie bloodsport was appealing, far from prying eyes she enjoyed back alley fighting rings. Of Course such hobbies were not attractive so she would play the feeble lady. In the ruffles of her lovers cloak she was shielded from the horrific flaring snouts of the Pig creatures ... their breathing made her sick.

 

[Astoach]

Astoach approached the entrance, a tremendous, circular, bronzium blast door implemented into a thick, steel wall, reinforced by wooden supports lined by layers of deep furs, giving the overall shell of the building an oddly fuzzy appearance, as if it were a hunched, titanic bantha, curled up for a nap. Naturally, the door was flanked by two guards, muscular gamorreans the both of them, dribbling slobber and mucus, eyeing him down with equal ire and raising their iron halberds across his path, intersecting their hafts into a X and effectively blocking him from entry. The one on the left snorted, spraying a fine mist of spittle that glittered almost beautifully in the fine lamplight which cascaded over their primitive gate. “What you doing?” snarled Lefty, the more beefy of the pair by far. “This Blood Hand hall, no guests!” This was quickly flanked by his partner, Righty, whose grasp of grammar and the Galactic Standard vocabulary shocked even Astoach, "Now is not the appropriate time to come seeking an audience with Commander Galak. If you would like an opportunity to speak with him you must go through the appropriate channels implemented-"

As much as Astoach could appreciated a well cultured pig, he did not have time to listen to Brawn and Brain spill the beans about how to go about contacting the next mercenary auction. Astoach was already fully aware of this, having already discerned the risk, reward and potential success of traveling to the Fair. The Boam Fair, in short, was an auction for mercenary contracts, hence why there were probably so many outsiders spanning the village. Aristocrats, philanthropists, politicians and all other members of elite society would travel here, seeking to bid upon this legendary band of mercenaries among others, such as the Karkan Juggernaughts and the Twelve Iron Vibro-spears. Yet, even with the full support of the Reborn Imperium at his back, he could not muster even a splinter of the credits that some of these senators and crime lords could toss out without a second thought and thus, Astoach had chosen the direct route of contacting them personally. He was a poor player of economics but he could speak, he had the charisma necessary to persuade these soldiers for hire to take up arms with the Imperial Might. His only obstacle would be getting through these two.

"-so please, I highly suggest that you return to the town hall and purchase an auction ticket there. Might I inquire your name?" finished Righty, his beady eyes peering inquisitively at the human and subtly bracing themselves for whatever ridiculous answer he might spew forth.

~

It was a few solid moments until the bronze door swung open into the hall, exposing the brawling legion of gamorreans, alight in the braziers which descended from the ceiling, clasped in the heads of ornate dragons wrought in iron and gold. It cast the spiked shadows throughout the room, dancing and flickering across the walls, as if living and rearing their ugly heads to snap at the piglets that tussled about the gallery. Astoach, upon a swift gait, entered the building, bathed in a vast wall of heat and the think stench of body odor. He cast a brief glance over his shoulder, out into the sunny day, yet saw nothing and that, indeed, was good. He had a little blood clotting upon his coat, just a few pinpricks of red dots splattered along his elbow and thigh but, in this dark light, no one would be prone to notice. So Astoach, confident and now fully energetic, strolled towards the back end of the structure, where his prey laid in wait.

Commander Galak sat before a wide table of ornately chipped stone, beaten into a graveyard of krayt dragon bones and scenes of unworldly conquest. Upon it was a tablecloth of thousands of furs, chopped from prey and stitched almost haphazardly together to form a mighty quilt of victory and from which the team of mercenaries, who flanked the Commader, ate from wide wooden plates. What caught Astoach's eye however, oddly enough, was the candles of such a warrior table, each fitted upon a poached rancor tooth and burnt an array of vibrant reds, casting a malevolent light upon the band. Then his eyes fell upon [member="Evelina Montecratise"], who curled up to a rather apish looking mercenary with a wide scar dashed across his forehead. "An escort, perhaps?" he inquired in silence, his black eyes sinking into her as he marched up the wide, stone steps that lead the incline up to the mighty slab of barbarians. "She seems to know how to pick her prey well enough."

The moment he began to ascend, he already felt Galak's titanic gaze drop upon him like a twelve ton weight. Neither the Paladin nor Commander were sensitive in the Force, but the leader of the Blood Hands certainly held a godly presence like a some viking god of lore, sitting nearly two seats wide from sheer bulk of muscle and with a beard so fierce Astoach could have sworn he may have been a wookie. But, that was not the case, for this monstrosity was a Tof, a titanic green near-human whose dark brown eyes sunk into the Paladin's presence like a vulture's beak upon carrion, yet he said nothing. Galak was reserved enough to sit back and let Astoach speak first, calmly observing with a wisdom that completely offset the already uneasy Astoach, completely ripping his voice away from him. "I..." began the Paladin, only the pause. The charisma seemed to sink away from him. He had expected an unintelligent party, a bunch of brutes who gorged on alcohol and women, screaming at full moons and dancing wildly atop tables, not a wampa-looking wise man who read him like a book the moment he began up those steps.

"Are you going to speak?" boomed Galak finally, after the passing of a few minutes. "Or have you killed my gamorrean friends at the door for nothing?" This certainly garnered a response, if not from Astoach then the rest of the hall. That legion of pigs turned, stomping on wide, calloused heels, soaked in sloppy sweat, to face the confrontation above en masse, forming a great horde of pork, awaiting the order to charge and tear apart the distraught paladin. If Astoach was not nervous before, he certainly was now.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Evilina look up from her lovers cloak as the heavy bronze door came open, a new arrival and not what she expected. This new arrival was not a pig and judging from the way he carried himself not a mercenary either. She couldn't see him clearly from this distance but he appeared to have been in a fight. She glanced past him through a crack in the now closing door. She couldn't be sure but it looked like the guards were dead. This man was getting more interesting as the time past. She lightly pushed off from the lieutenant just a touch. her eyes floating to follow this arrival. He was definitely not a mercenary.

As he neared the dais Evelina shifted further crossing her leg over and pulling the coat away. to reveal her legs, subtlety was the fastest path to glory. her handbag lay between her and the lieutenant. without taking her eyes from the new arrival she reached in and withdrew a makeup compact. It was time for an upgrade in company she thought. A mercenary was all well and god but she had a gut feeling that this man was better. Her gut was usually right. A touch of toner her, a touch up on her eyes. She lifted the mirror manipulating it so as to both confirm that she had not been tainted by the ugliness manifested in the room and simultaneously not obscure her view of their new guest. She returned the mirror to her bag as [member="Astoach"] began to eye her. An action that Evilina bet most of her present company missed, but she missed nothing. She saw the blood, just a touch but the glint of blood was quite unique. He had killed then. She met his eyes and inclined her head ... was she inviting him to ... engage her ... prehaps?

He advanced ever closer to the table, she glanced over to the Tof who held the reigns of the blood hands. It seemed he was intrigued also. Where he not it was likely that the man would be dead. The man was dangerously close now that took grit. Well grit or great stupidity the character of the man would become clear soon she knew ... and come clear it did. He couldn't even talk ... Pathetic ... the coat returned to its former place the legs moved back under the bench she perched upon and her head returned to her man's shoulder looking out this time though. It was a rather great disappointment. her left arm snaked around the lieutenants back and settled on his shoulder "Cigarillo darling ... it seems a mute has stumbled upon us" She said into his ear plenty loud enough to be heard by the occupants of the table and their uninvited guest. Her head thudded into his shoulder as a laugh erupted from him."Oaf" she thought to herself, could this man do nothing by halves. She smiled nonetheless however and handed him the offered Cigarillo taking one for herself and lighting both. His first of course.

The pigs were angry, it would have been tense if Evilina actually cared about anyone in the room. She cared about herself but no one would hurt her ... why would they? she was but a weak and feeble woman.

 

[Astoach]

"Cigarillo darling ... it seems a mute has stumbled upon us"

Astoach brewed in silence, his dead eyes dancing about the gathering like bouncing coals, glinting with harsh wickedness in the dry light. He was being mocked, that was a pinch to his pride that would be hard to shed but, for now, he had to play the part of a haggler, a barterer, a skilled man at banter to which he would twist their arms and leave them begging for more. He had to be clever, yet tact was never a strong point for him and that might prove fatal, or perhaps successful to his cause. Only time would tell. Yet, through his ire at the laughter, he found his voice, sharply speaking in a thunderous boom that would, hopefully, silence the symphony of squeals that thrashed behind him. "Commander Galak and the Blood Hand, I have come to make you an offer."

He swabbed his right hand along the thick layer of blood gathered along his thigh, resting along the breadth of his draping cloak and still very present, able to be scooped up in his palm having not soaked through the attire's rubbery exterior. He raised the cupped hand, blood pulled within, before him, risen above his head towards the mighty Tof, and squeezed, squirting the blood through the black-gloved cracks of his fingers, spilling over the webbing and raining down thickly to the floor. It was a very evident challenge to the monster, spilling the blood of a subordinate before him and taking such a strengthened poise against him. It was not so much a matter of culture, but of instinct and Astoach, an animal in his own right, was intending to assert dominance over the giant.

"I have come to bade your service to my Imperium, Galak," said the Paladin, with only the remnant of blood drizzling from his clenched hand. "Or you will die." Silence. Now, it was the entirety of the Blood Hand Hall that fell mute, shocked by the blunt proposition shot by the stranger. Yet, Astoach remained stalwart against the quietness, remaining in that aggressive stance of mirrored preparation that matched the Tof's own bristled exterior, engulfed in fury by the threat. Yet, what boiled forth was not blind madness, but a composed inquiry that weaved his voice into an intelligent response. Indeed, this Commander was old and experienced, for any other lesser barbarian would have sprung frothing from that table and likely butchered the imperial human. "And what makes you think that you'd be capable of such a feat?"

Astoach smiled thinly through the bound cloth of his mask, casting a twisted, maligned expression through the cotton that contorted his already taught face into a disturbing expression of glee with those dead, fish-like eyes staring unending from within the void of his shroud. "Because I am the Paladin, Imperium Incarnatum." Astoach took a step forward, hands clasped behind the small of his back in an official appearance and practice. Now, even his gaze began to challenge the Tof, he was daring him to stand. He knew that, in a one on one fight he would certainly be defeated but there was an almost wistfulness that he should be conquered, if not for the glorious end of his short life but for the promise of hellfire rained down from the sky by his associate's bomber. "I am the Conqueror of a New Era and you live to serve your betters."

The mercenary band met this again with silence, much to Astoach's twisted glee. His eyes spanned the gathering, once more resting upon [member="Evelina Montecratise"] with a heavy sight. He approached her, step by step, each heavy footfall seeming to explode the silence again and again with time slowed indefinitely, allowing him to inhale her appearance and indulge upon it. He had approached the table, towering over her in that pale cloak of his and dark mask, hinted in the soft, scarlet candlelight of the table, stared upon her like the emissary of the grave. He outstretched a hand to her, hand caked in blood, still freshly dripping and asked, "Cigarillo, please? I need something to smoke while the rest of these mutes find their voice again. Now." His fingers curled, twitching in hurried abandon, expressing the urgency in which he would like the the narcotic handed over to him. His gaze ran over to meet with her lover's, that gorilla-looking merc with the scar, and his gaze was one of intense, fiery wrath. Yet, Astoach only gaze back casually in casual amusement, acknowledging him teasingly with a nod and shifting his gaze back to Evelina.

"Enough!" interrupted the voice of Galak, who rose haughtily from his roost, a tremendous wooden throne adorned with the bones of conquered victims. "You will not come into my Hall, threaten my men and make a mockery out of me! Talk to me, one on one like a man, you beast, rather than frightening the weaker sex," Galak huffed as he slung an axe, once hidden on the floor by his left boot, onto the counter with a slam. Indeed, things were getting heated and Astoach, blatantly suicidal as ever, dismissed the Tof with a waving hand. "I won't accept anything short of a kneel from you, Commander. The Imperium doesn't negotiate with its subordinates. First, the Cigar, then our benevolence, cast from yours truly, that will allow you to keep your life in service to our budding nation. Otherwise you best have this weaker sex here pray your requiem, because I'll bury you and the rest of your little gang of sculags in whatever mud pit these gamorrean pigs like to breed in."

 

[Lucien Cordel]

The man had found his voice it seemed and what a voice. Her gut was correct and this man was worthy of her, He was clearly annoyed by the laughter, his body told her that and his eyes confirmed it, those were the eyes of an angered man. An angered man who had an ace up his sleeve it seemed. Why else would he go so far as to sprinkle the blood of the guards at the feet of the Tof. That was an act sure to invoke retribution, likely of the violent kind. A man would not pick a fight in that way unless he knew he could win for to lose was surely to die. That meant this man was hiding something ... something that would ensure he was victorious.

Her eyebrow cocked as he threatened to kill Galak, he definitely had something up his sleeve. He pushed off her lover again. Distancing herself from him and for the first time since the man arrived she sat up straight. The room had fallen silent all eyes upon the man and the commander. They batted around, this man continuing to poke at Galak a smart man or a fool?
Time would tell. But Eve had made her decision already. He didn't look like an idiot to her. The man was now right in the tof's face now, the situation was almost too good and she was half tempted to cackle at the man's parting shot 'you live to serve your betters.' it was too good. But she was a fine actress if she was anything so she retained her Demure look of horror lest any wandering eyes should glance at her.

Then the man came to her. His body obscuring her from the crowd and with the eyes of the table on the 'Paladin' ,as he called himself, she met his eyes as he came to stand over her and smirked, a wicked smirk. He wanted a cigar. She reached down to squeeze the Lieutenant's hand. Not for comfort mind, only to ensure he was paying attention. 'Weaker sex' pish, her supposed strong man was frozen in fear it was degrading. Before she could respond Galak spoke up again at least he had some backbone. In the brief moment Eve reached into her bag taking a Cigarillo and rubbing it with perfume. she extracted it just as [member="Astoach"] returned his gaze to her "Smoking kills Dearie" she said standing up to but the end of the cigar to the man's lips, she had left the back end uncoated "And you don't have a strong man to protect you like I do" She kicked the lieutenant for good measure, someone had to get a brawl going. Then she brought a lighter up to the narcotic. If the Cigarillo caught she intended for it to combust in a flash and burn his lips. She detected that this man might find strength more appealing than weakness. And what was stronger than burning someone ... not much if the strength on show in the room was anything to go by.

She returned to her own cigarillo then, it seemed a sin to let another of her narcotics go to waste

 

[Astoach]

"Smoking kills Dearie and you don't have a strong man to protect you like I do."

Bang. The Cigarillo ignited, combusting like a flash bang and blinding Astoach, forcing him to retreat a few steps with his lips burned and his mask, skinned back to smoke, burst into a raging flame. The heat seared down upon Astoach, yet he was never one to panic, swiftly dancing a hand up to his scalp and ripping free the tattered cloth, allowing the hood to slip away to the floor, where it continued to smolder to a crisp. His eyes dilated, violently shocked and unable to peer through the dark, forcing him to squint and rub his eyelids. That was when "the strong man" struck, flooring him in the midst of his blindness and knocking the air straight from his lungs. It seemed Lieutenant Blieth, Hero of the River of Skulls was also a coward, waiting to strike back in vengeance only when Astoach had lowered his guard. Yet, the attack was successful and as Astoach attempted to recover on the ground a kick was delivered to his side, successfully cracking a few of his ribs and sending him skittering down the steps. The ogre offered no clever remark, only barking a brief "HAH!" before raising up his arms in the classic are-you-not-entertained stance, enticing the audience of pigs and mercenaries to burst into applause.

As Astoach halted his descent with a firm plant of the hand, smearing a print of blood across the floor, he raised his freed fingers to his lips, feeling the puffy blisters arising across his lips and cheeks. His face, now exposed, was handsome save for the streaks of red that now webbed across his chin and cheeks, with pale skin that heavily contrasted those wicked eyes that sunk into his skull. His eyes drilled into Blieth, who now danced upon, drinking up the praise for his assault, entirely distracted. He rose softly, ascending like a pale shadow from the depths of Hell and his hands, gingerly, sunk into the confines of his cloak to collect his weapon. The Tof's eyes glinted in the dark, watching the Paladin approach from behind, yet he remained content to say nothing. He was rightfully curious, intending to see what this man would be capable of after proclaiming to be the mightier, watching from behind the table with hands clasped patiently. One of the mercenaries to his right began to speak out, their voice peaking with shrill warning only to meet the gaze of Galak, whose stony visage silenced him. This would be a fair fight from now on, it seemed.

Astoach's blade glowed softly in the firelight, its blade a crescent, only about eight inches long but already coated in blood. He had, evidently, already used it upon the gamorrean guards, proving its lethality, yet the blade itself held no particularly beneficial qualities save for the finely serrated edge, like a small saw, which Astoach used to induce vicious bleeding in his opponents. Astoach paused by a brazier, gently levitating the blade over the open flame and waiting patiently for the blade to heat, turning a deep red with little bands of wavering heat emanating from the metal. It was simple iron, nothing more, but it was a tool Astoach commanded with deadly efficiency and, as the ritual commenced, the entire hall fell silent in deep unease at what the Paladin's next move might be. Blieth, still attempting to waver cheers from the table, also felt the presence of fear wash over and was swift to turn, finding Astoach encroaching upon him.

"Hmph," was all Blieth muttered, confidence and pride blooming within him like honeysuckle in the spring. He felt no fear, no hesitance and no care for the Paladin, both disregarding him and underestimating him as a pest. He only approached, waltzing without any form of concern, intending to overpower the smaller man and breaking him, to both impress his lover and to garner further reverence from this band of mercenaries. It was from fleeting life from which the band garnered the name of the Blood Hand, barbarians at their best and atrocious beasts at their worst, and he would bleed this little one dry so slowly, savoring every last drop of that vicarious liquid like a parched man conservatively imbibes his precious water. Yet, as his thoughts raced, he became victim to a blinding light, a quick rush of motion followed by unspeakable, intense, white hot pain, igniting his vision into reds and oranges, and dipping him into such unfathomable suffering that the brutal warrior fell to the ground screaming.

The toothed edge raked across his eyes, igniting the blood like sparks as it spurted, creating a molten geiser. It had trailed across his sockets, digging out both of his eyeballs and obliterating his sight forever. Astoach laughed heartily, for irony was his comedy, his Dark Comedy and with it came barrels of laughter. Galak sat, paling at the sight, with the slender man hunched over his lieutenant, his laughter drowning out the screams of pain. Yet, he made to move to finish him; Astoach simply spun away and faced the mercenary gathering once again, face reddened by burns, and approached. He flaunted the blade with various complex, assertive and looping swings as the hilt was weaved through his dancing fingers, and cast a piercing glance towards the woman, one he intended to be haunting, one that spoke volumes of his intent. She would not be surviving the outcome of this.

The Paladin stood before the towering Commander, meeting his gaze with a craned neck and a voice that spat flames of challenge,"I want you to watch me put him out of his misery. I want you to sit there and know, to feel the opportunity you surrendered to keep that coward's life. And if you stand.... If ANY of you assholes move, we're carpet bombing this entire block of the village, regardless if I'm still in here or not."

[member="Evelina Montecratise"]

 

[Lucien Cordel]

The man's face was engulfed in fire rather more spectacularly than she had intended. She did hope the fire wouldn't ruin what she hoped was a rather handsome face. She sat back down as her Knight in boiled leather and fur pounced springing over the table. It was good to see him finally doing some work. 'Hero of the river of skulls' indeed Evelina doubted very much that there was even a river of skulls to be hero of. None the less he had pounced upon the guest and received a roar of approval ... Evelina didn't see why she did the hard work any fool with legs could cheap shot a guy whose face was on fire. It was , she would admit, entertaining however ... perhaps not in the way her darling man intended though. With her man off to kick the stuffing out of their guest ... or as it would later transpire have his own stuffing kicked out, Eve was free to reach the tables solitary fruit bowl unobstructed, fruit and blood sport it was almost like a diner show, A Bloody good diner show in fact.

As [member="Astoach"] came to a halt Eve finally caught a glimpse at his face. He was handsome in his own way. Pale skin, deep eyes a refined visage ... A far cry from the brute she had latched onto, she took a deep drag as she contemplated his face, she'd done a number on his mouth. She hoped it didn't scar too much ... then again scars would perhaps enhance his looks ... prehaps . Whilst she was thinking on the man's face , safe behind the table, her own man was pratting around bellow. She would never understand what it was with men and playing around. "Just Kill him" she hissed to herself. Just who she was referring too was anyones question. As 'her man' danced around like some common court fool the other man was back on the move. A flash of metal ... Ah a sword she thought to herself, that would perhaps mean a swift end to this fight. The others like her watched unmoving and in silence likely considering themselves safe in their hubris .

A look of confusion greeted the man's decision to heat his blade, it seemed a waste of time to her but she was no expert in the art of war. Only when the blade was glowing red did the man remove it. It was beginning to become boring all this waiting around. The good lieutenant finally turned at that point just in time to mount a defensive attack. It was good of him to finally get around to that she thought to herself. She could have done far better ... 'o the paths untaken' she lamented. The unease in the room was palpable and yet nothing of real note had taken place yet.But then somthing did happen ... She cackled and collapsed to lie on the bench as the man imbedded his sword into the lieutenant's head. It wasn't the proper reaction she knew but what did it matter, her present conquest was a dead man. She rolled back onto her side reclined over the bench, head resting on her left hand Cigarillo smouldering in her right. and watched still chuckling as the man blinded the mercenary ... so he was going to draw it out . An interesting development to be sure.

She smirked as the man cast his gaze over to her. No doubt he intended to scare her ... she wasn't scared. This was the most fun she'd ever had. She sent a puff of smoke in his direction " Oh You brute ..." she teased with coy smile. She was not concerned that he would kill her he seemed like a pragmatist and nothing would be gained by killing her. No once he returned to thinking with his head not his groin he would leave her be. After all who could blame a lady for having some fun ... well perhaps he could but she'd fix that. He moved back to address the crowd proper , the screams of the lieutenant echoed through the hall ... it was rather annoying in truth.

'"I want you to watch me put him out of his misery. I want you to sit there and know, to feel the opportunity you surrendered to keep that coward's life. And if you stand.... If ANY of you assholes move, we're carpet bombing this entire block of the village, regardless if I'm still in here or not.'

She shook her head with a chuckle "Carpet bombs, how original" She was also unfased by this latest threat , If he had intended to bomb the place he would have just done it, why did men always do their thinking in the underwear department?
She followed up almost immediately by raising her hand "Question ... Why blind him if you're only gonna kill him now, it's not even torture since you're ending it now ..." If he was going to kill her as his eyes promised then she might as well have fun first.

 

[Astoach]

"Carpet bombs, how original."

Astoach snorted, "Well, if you have any other fine suggestions on how to level a building then I'm all ears. Until then I suggest you consider contemplating efficiency over splendor, it might help you reflect on how you ended up here." He gaze bounced back between the jolly green giant and the woman, growing further irritable as the confrontation continued. He had come to do swift business, to threaten some swift violence and then move on to bigger and better things. This was grunt work, but he needed grunts and thus he was slipped the job of rounding up a few bulky fellows to charge off and hit things for him. This was the jackpot of all bulky fellows and regardless of quality, the normal methods should work. What he did not account for was a smart mouth cracking remarks at him throughout the entirety of it and the absolute worst of it, the one tidbit that burrowed deep within him, he knew that she knew he could not do an ounce of poodoo about it. If he made any aggressive movements against her, he'd risk breaking the stalemate and prompting the band to act, and judging by how belligerently she capped off comments, she was just rubbing it in his face.

"Question ... Why blind him if you're only gonna kill him now, it's not even torture since you're ending it now ..."

The Paladin huffed lightly, stepping back to her lover and delivering a solid revenge kick into his side. Oh, his ribs certainly hurt as his body flexed to deliver the blow, but feeling Blieth's ribs cave away beneath the hit made it all worth it in the end. "Well, Missus," he began, drawing the flat end of the blade along his own palm, savoring the remnant heat, that faint warmth, that sunk into the metal. "It is a symbolic gesture, this little fellow here is one of the higher ranking members of this little Band. If it were up to me, I'd sit here for days, flaying off the bits of skin and chopping the edges of bone clean, carving him up like a Corellian pumpkin. But, this isn't about me, so I won't be selfish." He rose the blade, pointing it at the Tof while that chilling smile crept across his lips. "You know why the Imperium recruited me? O' course not. I know how to do business with violence, I know how to get what I want and I know how to deliver a message. You see that old man, all still and frozen as I cut up his boy? You think he wants this? His Lieutenant was an idiot... but with traditional mercenaries like this, he was a brother. But so too does the traditional essence of them dictate that he lost... and he's my kill."

He stooped over the Hero of the River of Skulls, weaving his fingers through the greasy mullet and peeling his sweaty face free from the ground. "Hence, why he will savor it, accepting the knowledge that this all came to pass because he failed to grovel when bidden." The dagger rose beneath the Lieutenant's neck, Astoach savoring that brief moment between life and death when the ecstasy rose like a wild fire within him, conjuring the chaotic arousal he had abandoned long, long ago. But as the dagger began to sink, he was interrupted once more. "Stop!" shouted Galak, rising to his feet like a blaster bolt cast from a rifle, or perhaps like a crack of lightning jolting across the sky. "Stop! Don't kill him! Just, leave 'em be. What is it that you want us to do? I swear on my axe, we'll see it through if you just spare him." Astoach glanced up, knife still pressed against the half-conscious trooper's throat, who could only gurgle in defiance. "Oh, well that's new. I thought you Boam Village mercs were all Blood and Glory nonsense!"

"He's been with us since he was a child. Blieth's always been a fool but... it ain't worth tossing his life aside for pride. He deserves better."

Astoach released Blieth's hair, allow the face to flatten against the floor with a very vibrant crack, one which drew winces from the gathering crowd. "Done!" he exclaimed cheerily, sheathing the knife away within the confines of his draping robes. It was like the completion of some sick auction of death. The hall had fallen into a silence so incredibly deep, so absent of voice that it seemed almost the subtract from the air like a black hole. As Astoach opened his mouth to speak, he almost could have sworn nothing would have rung out, yet, even as it did, he felt a faint pang of surprise echo within his chest, "You will all become loyal citizens of our Imperium, soldiers to fight for the cause of freedom across the Galaxy! You, your sons, your grandsons, your entire bloodline will now show their support for the Imperium cause from here until the utter end of all things existent." His hands slipped behind his back in that disgustingly formal stance again, making him all the more snobbish in appearance as he began to pace along the length of the table, solidifying eye contact with all sitters present. "You will fight for the Imperium. You will die for the Imperium. You will give all you have to the Imperium and you will love the Imperium. The Imperium will be your life. The Imperium will be you body. The Imperium will be your soul."

This act of domination always garnered friction, so when one particularly young, scrawny lad, a boy of about fifteen or so, pale skin, red eyes and pointed ears signifying him as a Nagai, leaped to the table top, driving an accusing finger towards the marching Paladin. "Commander, ain't no way in High Heaven o' Hell am I lettin' this offworldin' son of a Hutt telling me wha' I'm doin' with myself!" Astoach paused only briefly, making such a heavy, brief eye contact visible shivers erupted upon the boy, signalling to Astoach that it was time to continue. As the Paladin walked away, the boy clenched his fists and furrowed his brow in childish intensity, his irked anger almost palpable to Astoach, even as his back turned, but the child lacked support, lacked approval, and thus quickly retreated to his chair once more. "You are being given an opportunity one such as I was honored. I was a killer, a loathsome vagabond who murdered for thrills -- essentially you but without pay -- but, when they came to me, and gave the position as paladin..." His chest swelled and, by god, tears could almost be seen forming in his eyes. "I was beyond thankful."

"You see, you are all absolutely scum," he continued with a tone of finality, casting a particularly jabbing gaze towards [member="Evelina Montecratise"]. "But it is through me, through the unified might of my Imperium that you all will find a greater, more wholesome purpose!"

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Evelina smiled "You think I'm splendid?" Theyed all heard him say it "Well I do try" she added with a smile. It was ever so fun to chip away at this man, to ruin his little act of theatre. She was his theatre heckler but unlike a stage actor he had no security to toss her out so she was free to berate him with impunity and so long as she didn't leave the table none of the mercs were going to stop her either ... after all she was but a woman. The man went on to suggest she should reflect on her situation "You speak as if my position is somehow bellow your own ... free food, nice house and lavish gifts ... A soon to be departed companion I see nothing to complain about " She gestured around to the present occupants "Granted the company leaves much to be desired but we civilised folk must make do and I do get all his assets when you take a cut off the top" She added pointing down at the collapsed form of the Lieutenant. Her last comment seemed to have been missed by the mercs, they never did pay her much heed but she liked it that way.


Eve smirked again as the paladin gave Blieth a kick. Temper temper she thought to herself. Then with a lift of her head she cooed down to Blieth "Sorry sweetie" She had rather put her foot in it or rather [member="Astoach"] had. This whole situation was a riot. An utter riot. He went on to describe the symbolism behind blinding the 'little fellow to use his words. Eve had a reply for that too "Well he ain't so little ... I can attest to that but I do accept your premise" Of course the man swiftly returned focus to the Tof commander so that they could continue their little measuring contest. It seems the last part of his statement was aimed at her, she just inclined her head and smiled. His talking had become boring again.

The action soon resumed again though and the man returned to the lieutenant. Time seemed to slow in her anticipation for death. The dagger lifted and soon another conquest would be dead. it began to press to the mercs neck. Then the commander ruined it, calling a halt to the pantomime and not by calling for an attack as perhaps he should. No he called a surrender, these mercs and their Sentimentality. The once intimidating commander all but got down to lick the man's boots. It was all very pathetics, she had more gaul than the whole hall combined it seemed. The man lamented on how he thought that the mercs would be rip roaring for blood and glory. A sentiment she echoed "So did I" She added after him. The remark was mainly to herself but perhaps others heard it. As if by divine intervention her lover had been spared, His absolution signaled by the slap of fat on stone. well she couldn't be his lover anymore. He had been shown as a sissy in public now so he was beneath her now.

Having ruined Eve's afternoon the man now returned to pace across the front of the table preaching abut how they were all inducted into his little club. How they would all fight. Eve couldn't fight. How they would all die. Hardly a roaring Advertisement for the empire. How they would give all they had. Well the imperium was definitely not having Evelina's fur ... they wouldn't be able to pull it off like she could. How they would love the imperium. Eve for one prefered only to love men of substance and presently all the substance appeared to have was rugged mercs and the man who ruined her day. How the imperium would become their bodies. Seemed awfully fattening. Then finally how it would become their soul. Well that might make atleast some of the people in the room a touch more interesting. "Sounds a little boring to me" She piped up from her end of the table "Does this new arrangement come with dental?" She added. Only to be swiftly overshadowed by a boy of all things.

It was telling really when a fresh faced boy and a member of the 'weaker' (Of course) Sex had more backbone than a platoon of rugged fighters for rent. The boy pointed an accusatory finger at the man and wailed about how he was an independant who wasn't going to follow some off worlder, well something along those lines anyway, eve wasn't really listening at this point. She was far more concerned with the fact that her cigarillo was on it's last legs. then as quickly as the boy had jumped atop the table he jumped off again finding no favour with the wet blankets who dared call themselves mercs. Then the paladin recounted his own path to his own situation.

"You are being given an opportunity one such as I was honored. I was a killer, a loathsome vagabond who murdered for thrills -- essentially you but without pay -- but, when they came to me, and gave the position as paladin...I was beyond thankful."

That explained a great many things he had been pushed by greater men to do bad things. He hadn't even been paid it all sounded so very traumatic, he claimed to have killed for thrills but that was excuse most commonly used by the put down. "Thank you for sharing that heart wrenching story" She followed up with with a moment of exaggerated weeping then abruptly stopped " It explains alot" She pushed herself up to be sat upright. He ranted on about how they were all scum but with his tender touch , he'd said the might of his imperium but they were one in the same as far as he was concerned, they could become wholesome beings. It was very touching. "You call us scum" He laughed "At least we don't look like we've contracted kissing disease" She was of course referring to the blisters on his lips. If she ever transcribed memoirs his blistered lips would take up a whole chapter.

Having taken one last shot at his ego she stood up "Now It's been a riot gentlemen but the Passion and gaul of the gathered group is just to much for a little lady like me so I'm going to take my leave" Voice dripping with sarcasm she stepped out from behind the table "Do enjoy kissing the paladins boots but do try not to get them wet with all your inadequacy" The heels of her shoes drummed on the halls stone slabs as she sashayed toward her former lover "It's been a riot sweetie " She cooed snubbing what was left of her cigarillo out on the mercs head "But I think It's time we both moved on ... I'll be taking the pretty jewels you bought though, as a memento"He groaned in response "see you around" She added with a cackle. Then she turned looking up to the man again "You seem like a blast , we should talk I'll be stopping in the hotel just off the market for a few days come find me" Then she gave an exaggerated curtsy and turned to leave.

 

[Astoach]

"You seem like a blast , we should talk I'll be stopping in the hotel just off the market for a few days come find me" Then she gave an exaggerated curtsy and turned to leave.

As [member="Evelina Montecratise"] turned to make her graceful departure, Astoach was swift to block her path. He was a practiced killer, one who moved like a nexu with near inhuman precision to his step. "Now, I think we both have come to a misunderstanding so I would invite you to take a seat," he tutted, motioning back to the table with earnest insistence. "You see, Missus Brieth, it is all about something bigger than one's self. I know that it is just so much more simple to walk away from this or to look away -- something that I understand is such a necessity to a young woman such as yourself -- from the fact that I am indeed, discreetly mocking you, but walking away..." He inhaled sharply through his teeth, as if taking physical pain from the disrespect, shaking his head softly and swishing his shroud of brown hair about. "Now, that's just an unacceptable notion, because, you see, when I gave everyone an order -- to give their all for the Imperium -- I gave everyone that order and you, Missus Brieth, are not above that."

As he spoke his hand mingled into his coat subtly, as not to gather any attention to the motion and, by the time the word that was nearly spit from is mouth, that dagger, stained with the blood of pigs and her "lover," was clutched tightly within his grasp. "Now I understand that childish resonance, that incompatible need for attention that just bids you, enslave you to inspire such dramatic verbal diarrhea, but you need to understand, your betters don't through this Sithspit at you because we just like barking orders!" He gently strung out the dagger, attempting to prick to tip along her shoulder, to induce a needle of pain, gathering attention to the words which followed from his mouth, breathed, almost lustfully, with ginger delicacy. "I do it because I want to set you free." He offered a reassuring, yet viscerally cruel and cold smile, swaying his unbidden hand to the rest of the party present, across the gather gamorreans, the mercenaries and whatever lucky bystander lurked within the premises. "I want to set you all free! Free under our Imperium! Oh, you will curse my name and spit on my grave now, but once one of our nation you will be praising - my - NAME!"

A shadow rose across the hall, eclipsing the pair in the middle of their very intense discussion, for Galak, in all of his ferocious bulk, had stood. "You know that if you leave, that bastard is gonna kill our brother," he rumbled, addressing Evelina with a sharp edge of aggression which remained strung taught in his tone. The Bear of Bakura, Astoach recalled. Indeed, he lives up to the title in size alone. Yet, this confrontation had only just begun to heat up, for the ire of the colossal Tof had now started to boil. "How dare you worm your way out of this, woman. Tryin' to abandon us, who treated you as family!" The Hall was ensnared within the trap of deathly silence once again, now captivated by the soap operate that was unleashed upon the stage of stone. "I'll bite my tongue for my brother and I'll swallow my pride for my kin, but I won't sit idle as you walk away. I WON'T!"

The declaration was followed by grumbles of approval and mutters of agreement, followed by the roar of grinding, wooden legs and tumbling chairs as the rest of the band found their way, slowly, to their feet. Galak cast a paling glance to Astoach, pursing his great jade lips in disgust for only the briefest of moments, a moment which Astoach caught with ease, and spoke, "Paladin, whoever you are, the Blood Hand will follow you. We will never respect you, we will curse your name and kin, and should we ever grasp upon your weakness, we will betray you and all that you stand for. Until then... we will follow you. But, I have but one request." His great paw flexed towards Evelina, who Astoach had intercepted in the midst of her departure. "She bedded my brother and claimed to love him, a claim made with silver tongue and female charm. I want your to take her with us; I won't let her ease from such commitment lightly."

Astoach returned his attention to the rightful host -- the woman before him -- and offered a sincere smile of appreciation. "Consider it done, Galak," he cooed, dagger embraced in his palm, flaunted gently before her in warning, should she attempt to skirt away. "Now, how about a name and, should you be thinking about an escape, let's be mindful. Between you and that-" He turned away to motion towards the great bronze entrance situated across the building. "That beautiful, fantastically crafted door, is me and a legion of gamorreans just waiting to get their hands on a pretty little thing like you. Behind you, should there be anything back there other than body odor, is a pantheon of heavy metal mercenaries who are supremely pissed off at you right now." He tilted the dagger briefly towards his chin, his taught muscles flexing as he physically mocked her with the swaying movements of his crescent blade. "You are now part of this Imperium and there is not a single thing you can do about it."

"You will have nothing now," he continued, flexing out his arms in an expression of absolution, of completeness involving the world around him. "Absolutely nothing, in all of the Galaxy, you will own nothing. Those clothes on your back are my gift to you. You have been conquered and all of your assets will be seized for our behalf, smelted into our machine and churned into the fuel for our nation and, with all of this said and done, can you see the possibilities? It would be such a fresh slate for you, for me and you, for you would find love, not like this with some half-baked coward, but real, unspoken love for your new empire." He stretched out a hand, to charmingly caress her cheek as he finalized his speech (or perhaps better described as a rant), "You can't fight change, you can't disobey this. The world will force you to better yourself and I, in my wrung grace and benign passion, will be your priest into this new life." That unhinged mania of his was showing again, largely through the almost wet and dead glint in his eyes. However, in part, it was the talent which netted him such a position in the first place. As once stated by the man who picked him as his Paladin, "You need a special type of man to get things done."

"You see, I can already feel the rising tide of change!"

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Eve smiled as she felt the dagger touch her shoulder the thick fur coat shielded her from pain but she could feel the added weight. "Oh sweetie I wouldn't marry that thing" She took a step to the side and turned . She ignored his admittance that he was mocking her. Mockery was the first defence of the weak witted, perhaps that's why she did it so much ... to appear weak whited. "I am above a great many things Good man, you can ask the all seeing mercenary over there" She sighed "But you make a fine point, you have a knife, an army of saps ... and kissing disease" she shrugged "I have a handbag, so I'll stay" She smiled sweetly at the man with the knife and strolled away from the door. "I want it noted that it's under objection though ... has the art of writing reach your empire?" She walked back to the centre of the hall and sat down on the shoulder of the whimpering lieutenant . This had fast become droll ... so very very droll

"You should call me Miss. Montecratise, it is afterall my name or indeed Evelina if we are on first name terms" She said "I'll just call you betty, since you are sooo ... much better than me" She was being sarcastic again. He went on to explain that very soon they would all be praising his name. That seemed unlikely somehow. Very unlikely "Oh but Betty, I'm willing to praise you now " She chuckled and lit another cigarillo "Praise be to you oh Betty, Killer of a wet blanket, breaker of sops, kisser of disease and freer of scum" She turned her head back until she was looking at Galak "Aren't you supposed to bow and scrape whenever someone says his name? " she turned back to [member="Astoach"] "I think these saps need bowing lessons , I trust a demonstration is in your remit ..." She gestured around with the cigarette before continuing "unless that nasty man gave you a booboo when he tapped your side before" She added in much the same tone as one might use to talk to a baby as she patted the blind Mercs head.

Then Galak stood up to address the hall, his bulbous frame casting a heavy shadow and blocking out Eve's sun. It seemed she had hurt his Ickle feeling. She chuckled to herself at that "Perhaps if you won't let me walk out I can have someone, one of you, carry me out ... I forsee a lot of carrying in your future" It seemed Galak was not taken in by that idea she just shrugged. The hall was a clamour as people rose to grunt their approval, it was good to see she was finally noticed. It had been so very long "Take a bow betty your crowd adores you, look at that admiration in their eyes ... look at the slobber some of them having closed their mouths since you arrived. " She turned back to the crowd propper "Close your mouths before they stick like that" she laughed.

Galak's face was a picture, had she a way to immortalise the expression on his face right now she would but alas she could not. He began his little rant again
"Paladin, whoever you are, the Blood Hand will follow you. We will never respect you, we will curse your name and kin, and should we ever grasp upon your weakness, we will betray you and all that you stand for. Until then... we will follow you. But, I have but one request.She bedded my brother and claimed to love him, a claim made with silver tongue and female charm. I want your to take her with us; I won't let her ease from such commitment lightly."
He couldn't even get subservience right. she frowned and sighed " Now Galak I feel the need to correct on two important fronts, I do think you ought to end every request to betty here with 'Oh please Beloved Master' and for the record old lard lover hear ..." she tapped his head again "Knew what he was when he took me in, I never once claimed to love him ... I would be available to him and look nice on his lap and he'd buy me anything I wanted ... It was quite a nice little arrangement " She smiled to him and blew smoke his way "I also think your ears need cleaning , I've already said I'll stick around with Betty" she returned the man's smile and without looking away she called back to Galak "Wish one of three down Galak now quickly wish for dental while you have the chance "

The man then returned to threatening her, in his charming little way. He reminded her of the combined total of scum in the room as if the stench didn't do that for her. She faked a blush, fluttered her eyes and tilted her head "So many men come to snatch at my innocence ... why what would dear daddy say ... he might never get me hooked up with a handsome captain then" She raised hand to her brow as if to faint in the style of a debutant then just laughed "Oh please if anyone in this room had any spine at all, I'd be dead now and so would you ... " she pointed at him "So my sweet let's dispense with the peacocking and move on to imperial orientation , we both know they won't kill me, and Galak up there has to be home by 8 or his Mummy gets sad and he won't get a story then will you Dearie?" The man then claimed there was nothing she could do about being in the imperium but that was a lie, his last threat proved that "I need to stop you again my darling, you just told me of at least one way I could get out of this, as you just said If I stand up and walk out you and your merry misfires will kill me ... and a dead person would hardly be desirable for your little club." having finished she waved for him to carry on.

He claimed now that she owned nothing, that was quaint "How kind dearie, such wonderful gifts how did you know?" she smiled, Puffed again and went on "And I'm sure my lingerie will look simply glorious on you" He went on to describe how it would be a fresh start ... how very lackluster "I prefer Limestone over slate dear" She smirked. Then he came closer and caressed her cheek, she leaned into it "Oh how very forward" she purred " aren't priests meant to be celibate?" she asked with a coy smile.
"You need a special type of man to get things done."
She nodded "Yes, you know I was just thinking in bed this morning that what I needed ... What I really needed was a man with a mouth like a moon's surface" She cackled again. Was she baiting him perhaps ... or perhaps she was just a torment who enjoyed berating people.

"You see, I can already feel the rising tide of change!"
"Afraid not Dearest, I fear thats just Galaks Breath"

 

[Astoach]

"Afraid not Dearest, I fear thats just Galaks Breath"

He was doing his absolute, ultimate best at retaining an unwavering attitude, yet with each word that left his mouth -- for it was ceremonious that such recruitment be dramatic, for the grandeur would promote an air of power -- she spat one of her own. Astoach hated that, he had even begun to hate how much the Tof had been broken in, just along with what she said, for now all seemed to grow irritable to him. There was that snorting, that oinking and that squealing that was desperately trying to be subdued by the emitters just down those steps and each noise would pound at his skull like a war drum. As stated, Astoach was manic, hence his past profession and recruit, and by god what he would have given to stab one of these supremely ignorant fools. The order had been steadfast and redoubtable, however, "No causalities, I want not a single death by your hand, aggravated or no. By the moment that you enter enter, they are citizens on our Imperium." A very bluntly stated prose, but one Astoach had upheld all the same. That momentum up to now had certainly been a ruse, one well played and executed, yet one that rotted in Astoach's core.

Astoach was a killer, that was why he was promoted as an enforcer -- and in the future, a harbinger -- and here he was, forced to stay his hand like a slave almost. Perhaps that irony was intended by his director, but all the same did it irk him. The show was not for her, it was for the mercenaries, for it was them who Astoach sought to recruit, to assert his dominance upon and, looking back on it, he felt mighty foolish for intending to use such a woman as a tool to do so. No one would want to use a wrench that would constantly berate the user for doing it wrong, that would drive anyone mad. But Astoach was already mad and that took him into a silent whirlwind of frustration. It was unlikely that this director was aware of her presence, she was a shortsight and perhaps... No, the moment the Blood Hand recognized that Astoach could be punished for taking her life, no matter the reason, they would instantly betray him. Betray him, no, it was not betrayal because they swore the Imperium above him, they would be doing the duty they swore upon Astoach's threats and that made it all the more frustrating.

She would live, yet Astoach, already defeated by her onslaught of words thus far and ruinous state of his theatrical performance -- for, as stated, dramatic displays were the surefire way to build respect and to fake power -- he could not resist the temptation to spite her further, "Well, perhaps if you keep insisting, we can just throw you in with Galak and his merry band for the rest of your elongated service to the Imperium. I'm certain that then you'd be receiving dental service for the greater part of your stay." Astoach forced his harrowing gap away, finally returning to address the prey he had so desperately sought to recruit, now pissing their pants from beyond the safety of their table as their pride leaked along with the drainage. He raised a wrist, shedding the pale, battered and blood cloak to expose a wrist, blanketed by a band with built in commlink, which he pressed down upon, ignited a yellow button into incandescence and activating the concealed microphone within. "Captains," he began, shooting [member="Evelina Montecratise"] a pointed stare, daring her to further interrupt his ritual. "We have the new recruits, send down the shuttles."

Click. "Roger, Lord Paladin," responded a static-ridden voice from the wrist-mounted speaker before clicking again, signalling its silence. There was a sharp clap as Astoach dashed his hands together excitedly and stomped away, spinning about the room wildly to explore the various subjects who now stood in his midst, including this small legion of gamorrean pigs who gathered among the more refined species present. "Now, I am equally conscious of culture as I am with mercy -- for I am a holy creature -- and thus I am well aware that oaths will go far with such prideful creatures as yourself. I-" He was rudely interrupted again in a two-part scenario, one from a snort of bloody mucus from the collapsed lieutenant, who had slowly began to recover consciousness, and of a shout from Galak, whose voice boomed throughout the local like artillery fire, "And what makes you think that we would ever hold ourselves to oath after we've thrown away all scraps of pride for ya'? Why would you ever think that, when we've abandoned all that makes us warriors that such a thing as honor would still bind us to ya'?"

"It's simple," clucked Astoach, shuffling away from the woman to more directly express his commanding body language to the mercenary band. "You want to hold onto what scraps of you that remain, it's simple psychology. For better or worse that sense of honor is all that will keep your Blood Hands, right? It's what made you special to us and, should you be good little boys-" His countenance fell upon Miss Montecratise like a hammer to an anvil. "And little girls, we will give you the chance to retake all that you've lost because of your ignorant defiance. I am here to deliver you from the evil of self-subjection and together we will herald a new era of equality. First, however, I require an oath and, should you find any difficulty in that... we'll just take you anyway, then do some nasty, nasty stuff to make you say it!" His voice was incredibly cheery, almost like a young schoolboy chirping of his first day of school, proudly establishing all the things he had done... and all the things he is going to do. "You are Imperium now unto the end and the after, for what we offer is beyond expression!"

By God, if he was ever going to spill the beans of an epic prose he was going to do it even if he were to die, "So, if any of you want to butt heads with me, feel free because we got a whole lot more coming than just this." He tapped his own breast to signify himself as "this" and smiled in a friendly manner. "It took just one of us to take this situation hostage, so don't go getting your little heads filled with the ideals of a last stand because, trust me, this isn't going to turn out well..." He trailed off, intending to initially include "...for any of us" but the simple matter was that he could not be one to show weakness, or opportunity, should the barbarians ever receive a notion of a suicidal pact for glory. Instead, he continued off on a different path, pursuing the continuation of inauguration, "So who volunteers to go first? Will it be the bacon battalion at my back? Perhaps the array of the hairy fellows at my front. Or perhaps, our little smartass?"

 

[Lucien Cordel]

"Well, perhaps if you keep insisting, we can just throw you in with Galak and his merry band for the rest of your elongated service to the Imperium. I'm certain that then you'd be receiving dental service for the greater part of your stay."
Eve laughed, that was his response, she had rather hoped for better, granted his previous pantomime had been notably under par. Thus she supposed she ought to have expected the drivel that she got "Tut, tut Betty" She teased "You're beginning to get petulant now, you can't promise equality with one hand and threaten to enslave me with the other and besides I don't know how to receive Mercenary dental service ... perhaps you can teach me you seem the type?" she blew smoke at him again. Having once again made a fool of himself he moved back to adress the crowd proper. He made a show of calling for the shuttles "I'll take a ticket for the first class cabin then please ... oh and I don't like anything over egged so perhaps it would be best if you and I traveled separately Betty." She called dared on by his stare, if he didn't want her input he should have ignored her.

She let him get on with his spiel about oaths and pride without comment. That was all far too boring to interrupt, she did however yawn in a rather exaggerated fashion. That should annoy him quite sufficiently and set the stage for her greatest play yet. Then the tof interrupted. He was beginning to aggravate her "Oh shut up Galak, If you're not going to kill him then shut up and sit down like the good little lap dog your fast becoming" why did these mercs appeal to [member="Astoach"] again?

Interruption over the 'Lord Paladin' , silly title if you asked her, continued to describe his little club again. She once again remained mostly quiet even when he leveled his gaze on her as if challenging her to berate him. She just smiled sweetly back at him. She did yawn again who knew being pressganged could be so very boring. He continued to prattle on and she continued to yawn she only came back to awareness close to the end of his speech.
"It took just one of us to take this situation hostage, so don't go getting your little heads filled with the ideals of a last stand because, trust me, this isn't going to turn out well..."
She really wanted to remain quite but she really needed to get him on that front too. "Darling going off todays performance a ropo could have taken this rabble hostage" Hmm. Ropo now ropo fur would make an excellent pair of gloves. She would have to look into that as soon as she was settled in the paladins club house.
"So who volunteers to go first? Will it be the bacon battalion at my back? Perhaps the array of the hairy fellows at my front. Or perhaps, our little smartass?"
Eve stood up "It is quite smart isn't it" she replied stepping forward and gesturing with her finger "Very well I will go first show these wet blankets how this is done." When he had come close she began trailing her left hand up his arm to cup his face and pressed herself close to him her right hand trailing over his hip as she peppered kisses onto his jaw and over to his ear "I ... Sollomly ... declare ... that ... I ... will ... be ... a ... very ... good ... " As she was kissing him she was also trailing over to his knife. As she spoke the last word of her vow she simultaneously grabbed for the knife and bit down on his ear. "Girl!"

If she was sucess ful she would decapitate the blind merc and toss the knife toward the door.

 

[Astoach]

"I ... Sollomly ... declare ... that ... I ... will ... be ... a ... very ... good ... " As she was kissing him she was also trailing over to his knife. As she spoke the last word of her vow she simultaneously grabbed for the knife and bit down on his ear. "Girl!"

A lattice of electric pain swam across the lobe of his left ear, forcing his eyes shut and a roar of mixed pain and rage from his lips, granting the woman an opportunity to snatch free the blade from his hand. He cupped his ear, now torn and ravaged by the woman's snapping maw, and became all the more aware of the throbbing warmth as small portions of blood slipped from his ear. She had only bitten through the lobe, which would indeed cause no hideous scarring, but it bled all the same and the pain was was brief and sharp, shocking Astoach into a brief pause as he attempted to discern what the utter Force had just happened. Yet as the ringing pain faded, he became aware of a distant clatter and a vehement roar of a hundred voices rising up in such immediate umbrage, swiftly descending into a thick, syrupy outrage, with voices distorted under the slow stress which aggravated Astoach further and further, stretching him over the toiling cogs of madness like a tattered cloth caught in clockwork.

This was not how it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be like every other mission, every other victory. Yet, it seemed over already, a failure, as the blade came crashing down upon Blieth’s neck by the hand of [member="Evelina Montecratise"], severing his blinded head from his body. Astoach took loving care over this blade, this plain, crescent blade and sharpened it for ours on edge, always ensuring a razor edge and, as it cut through the spinal cord with ease, this motherly tutting showed. The blood had spilt onto the stone floor softly, rather than spurting, with the flow of life running like a gentle waterfall onto the ground and streaming down the stairs, bleeding into that silence which held all things once more. It was so physical that Astoach, even in the midst of his throbbing pain, could sense the tension and, when the pique of such a movement, of such an action, unleashed to floodgates of fury he was prepared for the worst. He was prepared for death on ornate raven wings, for armageddon and, Hell, he was even prepared for Jabba the Hutt to throw himself in at some point, chainguns ablaze as he lit up this joint like they just liberated Naboo. He expected nothing but an end, a climactic result of her behavior manifested in some catastrophic display.

"WITCH!" howled Galak, swinging up his axe and descending upon the two humans like an earthquake. Here it comes. The Blood Hand followed behind, ornate and primitive weaponry displayed, shaken about like a band of viking tusken raiders and howling prophecies of vengeance upon their heads. Astoach had lost his trump card and Evelina, the woman who had not only done the deed but discarded their only weapon, now painted a target upon both foreheads with delicate precision. If Astoach was not already spiteful, he might have been admirable to these in which she dispatched the tribal lieutenant, but now, with all of his plans collapsing before him like a poorly built bridge, he felt a mixture of shame and pique, fusing together in an amalgamation of wrath. "Montecratise!" he exclaimed, his fingers running trails of light blood down his cheek as he dragged his hand away from his temple. "You fo-"

Astoach, once more, was halted, this time by the vast wooden shaft of an axe, nearly as thick as his head, which struck him like a bat, flinging him through the air and crashing him into a brazier, which tilted over, spilling ash and sparks. "You've spoken enough," barked the Commander, heaving his axe's head upon his broad shoulder to support the titanic weight. "If that Paladin weasel is too much of a coward to take your head, especially after what you've done -- to MY brother -- then I'm going to end this here and now!" There was a band as he let the long axe haft descend, pounding upon the floor and his hand, slinking up the pole, rested just beneath the beard of the blade. A chant began to echo out from below, stomping feet kicking up a beated rhythem followed by a single chorus, called out in the deep, booming voices of the gamorreans and those who had yet to flee whilst Astoach was downed, "Gal-ak! Gal-ak! Gal-ak! Gal-ak!"

"There won't be any solace in the afterlife for ya', no more running, no more decieving, no more leeching. Only pain."

Crumpled on his belly, Astoach shakingly rose to all fours, ash and cinders pouring from his sore back. "Galak," he called out, his voice cracked by pain. "The Imperium commands-"

"No, I won't be taking orders from your Imperium! If this woman can defy ya' and not earn any retort, why should WE follow you? You're threats are all hollow, Imperial, and we ain't fallin' into your trap."

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Evelina spat the flesh she had pulled from his ear along with a gob of blood. It had actually worked ... she didn't actually expect it too have worked. Yet the merc was dead, the knife was gone and the blood was swimming in blood. She came too full awareness again no one was seated now she had been noted, albeit for a less than positive reason than she would have prefered. she looked around slightly shell shocked. this was her first kill. She couldn't look, she felt sick. The blind mercs blood was flowing like water and time had slowed. Her head was swimming and the noise of the room had bled into a single roar. She staggered backward, her own head rang.

Then a voice cut through the noise "WITCH!" Galak was up. She stumbled back further. She had to focus or he'd kill her and she could hardly fight him. Then the other man was shouting too. she turned to watch as he was flung across the room. into a brazier. The clattering brought her to full focus. She hadn't thought this far ahead she was going to use this situation to force the Paladin to make the terms of her capture more favourable but they did need to live long enough to actually go through with the capture, she hated to say it but they would have to work together.

"If that Paladin weasel is too much of a coward to take your head, especially after what you've done -- to MY brother -- then I'm going to end this here and now!"

She looked up to him "Wait just a second" She hissed "This is on you, you bowed and scraped when you should have been killing him " she thrust an accusatory finger at [member="Astoach"] "Your cowardice has cost us all " she kept stepping back

"No, I won't be taking orders from your Imperium! If this woman can defy ya' and not earn any retort, why should WE follow you? You're threats are all hollow, Imperial, and we ain't fallin' into your trap."

"Galak you damn us all, we are in the trap you saw to that... his soldiers are coming now and they will take us, I saved Blieth from a fate worse than death ... I gave him a mercy ... you can't say the same ..." the axe came down and she span out of the way. Galak roared with anger and threw a punch at her she went flying sliding into the rising form of Astoach. The wind was knocked out her. she spluttered and turned to look at the paladin "We are in the poodo ... this wouldn't have happened if you'd let me leave. She smiled blood leaking over her lipstick stained lips. "I hope your soldiers are fast. "

She crawled down toward the door and by extension the knife "You ought to be good to me, when your soldiers arrive your life is in my hands , you see no one will believe I killed him are they?" she advanced toward the knife she had to get him that knife, they might live then. Hopefully. Perhaps her words had turned a few hands against Galaks.

 

[Astoach]

Astoach swung upright, droopily swinging onto his feet with upper torso loosely caught in the inertia, swaying like a flag in the wind. He had certainly taken in her comments, ones of equal sour tone -- perhaps that was all in Astoach's head -- yet retained an air of particular seriousness. It seemed a good punch had delivered her from whatever fantasy land prompted her to make a mockery of politics involving murderers and Astoach, clever as ever, made a mental note of this for later. If he was going to be dragging her back to the Imperium, he would be certain to help her keep silent before their director. Until then, however, Astoach had to focus on survival and, to the crowd of green pigs below, the sight of combat had flipped the switch launching all porkdom into DEFCON 5. As [member="Evelina Montecratise"] wormed her way to the knife, their sole source of protection -- or more accurately, her source of protection -- the great gamorrean free-for-all commenced. It should not have been much of a surprise, considering they had been initially wailing on each other like the end was upon them from the get-go, but the sight of actual combat by these mercenaries, whom they revered with almost godlike abandon, had unleashed the mighty floodgates of testosterone.

As she neared it there was a roaring oink as it was knocked away by two brawling gamorreans, one obese and one gaunt, sending it skittering beneath a distant table. This initial battle spread like wildfire, erupting the hall via chain reaction into a thunderstorm of squeals as these warrior trials commenced instantaneously. Meanwhile, Galak and his crew, the Blood Hand now a wide total of ten, had reached the stairs and Astoach by default, who stood between them and the mighty Ham Horde who fist fought it out in epic proportions throughout the hall (and Evelina, bless her soul). To be quite honest, at this point the Paladin was quite enjoying himself, desperately entertaining the prospect of becoming such a Valahala-worthy warrior and engaging in legendary combat, though this was largely to distract himself from the imminent punishment following his return to the Imperium for his failure. A smile stretched his lips nonetheless and he addressed the group fully, "Now my troops are coming, so I would highly suggest that-"

CRACK!

Astoach went down, another wide blow across the temple dealt by the Commander's unwieldy axe shaft, sending him tumbling down the stairs and seeing all kinds of stars and dragons. "I've 'ad enough with both of ya' silver tongues!" reverberated Galak, storming down the steps in pursuit. "I'm takin' ya' head, I'm takin' her head and I'm gonna take all the heads of ya' Imperium to boot! You think that because of all your fancy words and hollow threats, you can tame me? And you, WOMAN, think you can mock me for my-" Distracted, Galak failed to note Astoach's recovery and lost a few teeth for the consequence. Astoach had delivered a solid punch straight into the jaw, forcing the giant to chomp down on his tongue, earning an impressive spewing of blood and a few lucky teeth to boot. Roaring, the mighty Tof crashed down onto the steps, bruising his back on the stone and leaving himself open to a furthered assault. The Paladin leaped upon his mighty chest and straddled his trunk, unleashing furious blow after blow upon his cheek. "Hollow threats my ass! I'll show you hollow threats you overgrown Yoda!"

Now it was Astoach's turn to bite the dust. Perhaps, to any passersby, the whole situation might have been comical as either party seemed to take delicate turns getting batted about like a pair of dimwitted flies to a curious cat. To Astoach, however, the broken bones and bruises that caked his body made it a bit less humorous, especially when that next strike sent him into the great orgy of punches towards the entrance. He had no direct recollections of what followed, courtisy of a mighty concussion, but he recalled being stampeded, then the suckerpunch delivered upon graceful knuckles by that young nagai, then a kick to the groin. He took one guy out with a solid crack to the temple, but a new blow caught him in an uppercut, forcing him to chomp down prematurely and chip a tooth, then a blow to the gut toppled him once again. He kicked a rather obese pig while down, toppling it into a mercenary and both went down screaming, the gamorrean from pain and the poor man from fear of what was to come. It was hectic, chaotic and Astoach, despite his injuries, was beginning to find raw excitement from the action.

It was when the boy drew a vibro-sword and swung it down did Astoach finally feel it necessary to check on Evelina, realizing that he had not seen her about for a good half a minute. He caught the boy's wrists, forcing back the blade and remained in deadlock, struggling for a good few seconds before a togruta, perhaps one of the yet-to-be-revealed mercenaries, caught him in the back with a chair, forcing him to slump to the floor in the midst of a very brief blackout. He was taking some heavy damage to the head and, should he ever make it out of this, there was undoubtedly going to be some form of consequence to this. For now, however, he intended to have fun. As the togruta barreled down for a follow-up smash with the splintered remains to the chair -- "Had I been hit that hard?" thought Astoach -- the Paladin struck out a foot, caving in the poor man's knee and sending him collapsing to the floor. Thank the Force for long legs. "Evelina!" Astoach called, continuing his earlier thought now uninterrupted. Where had the Nagai gone? "Where are you? I could use some help, they keep hitting me in the head!"

 

[Lucien Cordel]

The whole situation had sparked far more than she thought. The whole room had descended into chaos. She had been reduced to crawling across the floor like some army commando from some cheap movie, She much prefered it when she was making snide quips from the shoulder of the now dead merc. Now here she was covered in blood dragging herself across the floor. She was already planning how this was going to go down when the soldiers arrived. It wouldn't be necessary to punch her in the face, she could be demur. A Pig was pushed over the top of her, she grunted in pain as the heavy body landed on top of her before rolling away as the brawl continued.

She smiled as the knife came into her reach range ... she was close , so close. Once she had that blade back to [member="Astoach"] she would be safe ... they would be safe. She stretched out her fingertips touched the knife handle. She had it and then almost immediately it was gone. span away under a table. She cursed aloud as her eyes followed the blade. It was crazy, she couldn't see Galak anymore. She pushed herself to her feet and hurried over to the table and slid under it. She had the knife and was quite tempted to stay under the table but she needed the paladin to live. without him she was likely doomed ... it was sad to admit.

She wasn't going to leave the safety of the under side of this table until she knew where he was. After what had felt like hours she heard his voice from the thick off the crowd. With a grunt she got out from under the table. She pushed her way through the crowd. She was trying to avoid fighting but she recalled slashing at at least three people. She was knocked sick again, fighting was not for her. She found him being pummeled by the edge of a chair. "No" she shrieked scrunching her eyes up and thrusting into the assailant. The man was dead, the paladin was alive she reached down to pull him to his feet then she grabbed his knife and picked up the chair leg that was previously getting intimate with Astoach "Your knife" she said thrusting it into his hands.

"Are your soldiers near " she asked doing her best to avoid attention from these fighters. It was barbaric "When they come we stick to the following story old eye holes over there he tried to exploit me ... you got into a fist fight protecting me he took your knife and tried to kill you but I got it and killed him then having been denied their cheap thrill they began to attack each other and your the only reason I'm not dead" The story seemed a reasonable way to avoid death.

 

[Astoach]

"Hold you tongue," commanded Astoach as he snaked away from a smashing blow, delivered upon the courtesy of a gamorrean via cudgel delivery in a strike which chipped the paved stone flooring. "I fail to see any reason to speak anything but the truth. You killed him unprovoked for matters of simple self-gain, against my threats and initiating this brawl. You are going to play by my rules, or you won't be making it out of this alive." Fastening his grip to pant leg of a tussling bothan, he hoisted himself to his feet once more and cracked a flattened hand against the side of the humanoid's neck, effectively downing him with a solid K.O. "The soldiers, regardless of my ranking in the Imperium as a whole, are under my command!" he exclaimed, closing in on the cowering [member="Evelina Montecratise"] on a fleet-footed stride, hustling over the fallen participants of the battle and the debris scattered across the once beautifully tiled floor. "I've at my wits end with you! You might make a mockery out of me, but when you incite this bloodshed and try to direct me around to MY troops in MY element you best believe that our leader will be finding one extra dead schutta with limbs scattered from here to Gos Hutta! Stay under the damn table and keep your mouth shut, unless you want to get spotted."

A vibro-axe crashed down towards his back, narrowly dodged by a split second reaction timed with a counter, an aptly-provided punch to the gullet which downed the attacker like a sack of bricks. He was careful to ensure that his own strikes were nonlethal, but as weapons began to unsheathe throughout the hall, as the combat picked up pace and intensity, he found blood had already begun to flow. It spilled over the cobblestone and clogged in the floor, giving the name of Blood Hand Hall an entirely new meaning. What was once a friendly brawl on the part of the gamorreans turned into a blind massacre, led by utter pointlessness and fueled by the true conflict buried somewhere within. Undoubtedly, the band would be struggling through the horde as much as Astoach and by utilizing this advantage, Astoach hoped to isolate their members -- whom he fully expected and hoped to survive -- until the troops arrived. He retrieved this cleaver, discarding the lesser knife in favor of flourishing its heavy blade by heaving it in a false chopping motion. "I'm going after Galak."

It was a rather simple tactic, sneaking in to take down the Commander while he was distracted. If he remained an element up into the arrival of the soldiers, he would undoubtedly be capable of rallying his minor forces against them and -- while Astoach expected them to be defeated with ease -- he did intend to bring them back healthy. Evelina was a different matter entirely, but until he could ensure his success through the mess she had both shattered and proceeded to scatter, tossing the little bits of broken chunks to his plans like bread crumbs to ducks, she was a minor piece of the background and, should she attempt her escape, her existence would go unnoticed to his director, thus allowing him to handle the matter with personal and lethal precision. As that particular thought raced across his mind, he almost encouraged her to run, but alas, he had already stumbled upon the Tof, ripping the spines from gamorrean swine, squealing in dying defiance.

 

[Lucien Cordel]

Evelina raised an eyebrow at the harsh tone @Astoach. Yes she had berated him, killed his hostage, bit his ear, burnt his face and started a fight that could well get them both killed ... But she had returned his knife and clubbed the pig who was hitting him with a chair leg so that made up for things right?
'I don't see any reason not to tell the truth' she mimiced. Then with a sly smile she replied to him "Oh dearie, you must have taken one too many hits with a chair leg , twas you who did the dirty deed" She chuckled and began a return to the safety of the table "And that's all anyones going to believe after all It was your knife and I am but a weak and feeble ... woman!" She punctuated her last word by clubbing a juvenile pig creature to death with her hand bag. The blood complemented the ivory fabric very well. Then just as she clambered back under the table she turned and smiled back "Darling I live to be spotted" . The smile and the snark hide a deep seeded fear she had really karked up this time and was quite convinced she'd die.

She fumbled with the clasp of her bag. Hands shaking but did ultimately manage to pry it open. Snatching out another cigarette she lit up, letting the tobacco calm her. It worked , right up until the point when a decapitated head rolled under the table 'Don't scream ... don't scream ... don't scre ...' she ran over in her head until she threw up. Blood was collagulating in the paving cracks now looking more like the tile mortar than the blood of the fallen. From within the crowd she heard the paladin say he was going after Galak. She did so hope he didn't die she was his only hope ... even if he did look like a juvenile with spots.

Eve wasn't about to run away yet, this imperium might promise a better life so long as she got there as a damsel in distress. She watched the door as soon as these troops appeared she would bolt to them screaming and crying. and recount the horrific tale of how she had been seized and exploited, of how the paladin had arrived and of how there had been a most traumatic massacre ..." she'd let the soldiers determine whether the paladin was at fault but she wouldn't help him if they did. Of course that meant she would have to abandon her fur coat and *Gasp* ruin her hair. It was criminal but needs must. So with a surgical precision she set about ruining her appearance a ripping of fabric a teasing of hair, a roll in the blood and dirt and a smudging of makeup. She looked a mess but it would be worth it. After All who in case she doesn't hang
Can say she started with a bang? Well she could.