Dominion The Wretched Hive | Black Sun Syndicate Dominion of the Kastolar Sector

[Kaila Irons]

Location: Kwenn Station, Tallifax Inn
Wearing: Dress
Tag: Mercy Mauve du Vain Quinn Varanin

"Oh it does." she admitted.

"But we recently completed a Bio-dome. Lots of plants from Dathomir, some animals, prettied the place up a bit."

"Maybe I'll bring you some of my Hwotha berries next visit?" perhaps she'd enjoy them as much as Kirie does.

The thought actually brought a sort of sad smile to her lips.

"I owe you one, after all."

"Oh, thank you darling." she smiled more appreciatively, and took up the bottle.

Evidenced by many gulps, she needed it. Eventually she slowed, allowing herself a moment to actually taste the Merenzane gold. Normally she was more of a wine girl these days, that soldierly grit having been carefully refined, but this was...

"Damn," she smacked her lips "That's wicked that is."

She'd surely be stocking the cellar when she got some.

"Tell me about Hapes, Mercy. Was it everything you were hoping? Should have brought Anathemous along. Wait, wait - my turn."

As the Zeltron laid her legs across her lap, she afforded her a toothy smirk and a sidelong glance, handing off the bottle to whoever was next. Maybe it was the drink in her belly speaking, but Anathemous was slowly starting to settle in, trying to relax and enjoy the company more.

She very gently laid a gloved hand upon her bare leg, Serenno-silver claws tracing lazy lines up and down her calf, just enough to cool the skin, and to test boundaries.

Though she wouldn't dare say it aloud, it was grounding.

"Hapes, you say?" she questioned, still tracing softly.

"I'd have thought the Jedi were still crawling the system, certainly if you think I should have been there." a stifled chuckle.

Then a thought demanded she raise a brow at Quinn Varanin , leaning forward so she was no longer hidden behind Mercy .

"One of your diplomatic missions?"

There was something else she wanted to ask about her mission but...

It could wait.

​

 

[Braze]

TAGS: Open

OBJECTIVE 3: BOUNTY HUNTER'S SUMMIT​

Braze wasn't entirely sure why he'd come. He knew why he had to be here... that part was simple enough, but the sense of freedom he prized felt suffocated. Alone at a table, he let the idle chatter of others wash over him, drawing out a few mental notes as he listened. The short of it was this: he needed to pay off his debt and buy his freedom.

 

[Jerec Asyr]

"I'll cover the rest of the night." Projection reserved for courts and ballrooms carried her voice to the far corners of the room, over music and discussion both. "We drink to the memory of the Queen Mother and the opportunity she left in her wake. I'll be leading an armada into the Hapes Cluster to seize what is mine… if any are bold enough to follow me and carve a name for themselves amongst new stars."

​

A vision swept over Jerec at these words: a thousand Cataclyst Raiders (each incurring a very reasonable back-end processing fee for Quekko's Choice Ship Emporium) storming the narrow lanes of Hapes. Jerec was wearing a...rib cage with three spines?...and raising an axe made from a fourth spine. There were slanted mountains and a golden sunset. Beautiful. Beautiful.

He nodded agreement with Aurelia on all points but was too far in his cups to contribute to the conversation other than reinforcements of his pledge of Cataclyst Raiders to all Black Sun affiliates, including people who affiliated with the glorious mission to transform Hapan space into a piratical promised land. Later, while soaking in a mountaintop spa, when reconsidering the role alcohol played in his lifestyle under the guidance of a monastical Aleena, Jerec would look back on this moment without regret, but would bid farewell to such endeavors as he embraced a strict strategy of moderation, channelling his instinct for excess and nonsense into financial planning.

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

"I'll knock five thousand off if you can get him outside."

His gaze turned back, "People are a bit... weary, of me."

HUNTER'S LODGE
OBJECTIVE THREE

Skeevi left the best bounty hunter in the galaxy hanging for a bit as they were inspecting those pre-owned beers retroactively. Floaties. They shifted both glasses to the side and nodded with great enthusiasm. "Lookit us, partners. Lookit me workin with Cooda Fett."

As the Arkanian was now becoming interested in the big offer, one of the press of hunters seeking a place at the table, luring him outside turned out to require a multiplicity of tactics. Skeevi attempted a variety of threats and offers intermingled, all suitable for the venue. In the end, they simply stole the Arkanian's wallet and booked it through the crowd with him on their heels. That adrenal rig of his kept him breathing down Skeevi's neck right through the limited kitchen of the Hunter's Lodge and out the service door into the Kwenn Station alleys, where Skeevi hoped Koda could be found, because otherwise this was apt to get unprecedented.

In passing - there and gone, flat sprint pursued - they spared an appreciative look for Braze 's cybernetics and tossed him a business card.

 

[Koda Fett]

The two came dashing around the corner, breaking free from the throng of the crowd and into one of the alleys behind the Hunter's Lodge. It seemed to loom over the rest of the station's primary area, being more of a wideset catwalk than a true alley left shoved between buildings - the long drop below housed markets of all kinds, with steam and smoke rising and leaving an assortment of smells in the air. Though as the two emerged, the Arkanian grasping for Skeevi's collar, a blaster went off.

Not uncommon for Kwenn Station.

Fett stood leaning against the wall with one ankle crossed over the other, and the force of the bolt swept the lumbering Arkanian's leg out from under him as he crashed into the durasteel walkway beneath him with an agonising yelp.

"Why, you!" Seethed the Arkanian in an effort to rise, only finding another shot sending him back as it lashed out at his shoulder. "You bastard," he said to the approaching bounty hunter, "You'll pay for this!"

Koda stepped down on the man's wounded shoulder and pressed a knee into his torso, unsheathing the glowing vibroblade before getting to work carving out Skeevi's desired cybernetic.

"Not likely."

Skeevi Merrill

 

[CT-312]

//: Eira Dyn Jacen Breska Scherezade deWinter Darth Carnifex | Open //:
//: Lanupa ,Kastolar Sector//:
//: Attire //:
//: EQUIPMENT: M.I. 'Halo' jump boots | Contact Lenses | Navi/Barca //:
//: WEAPONS: M.I. Model 7 shotgun| LO-22S| Sunshot Pistol| M.I. Model 6 hybrid pistol //:
//: DROIDS: 1 x LK War-X //:
//: ADDITIONAL EQUIPMENT: Kushute Grenades | Shiva Knife | S.A.N.D. Powder //:
//: 1 x Arrow head of Absence | Taozin amulet | LK Spider Slicer Droid //:
//: Objective II - LANUPA RAID //:​

New blips flickered on to CT-312’s HUD. Multiple patrols and outside units converging on the last known coordinates she provided. Where the War-X droid will be waiting. The distraction was working.

Slipping inside the complex, the door sealing behind her with a soft hiss. The temperature shift hit the Scout instantly. The bone deep cold gave way to a humid warmth. Visor clouded in an instant. CT-312 brought her hand up, pulling the end of her scarf across the glass. Clearing away the condensation until the lobby came into focus.

It was bright. Columns of polished stone supported a domed ceiling. Gentle cascades of water poured into shallow pools lined with luminescent tiles. Casting soft ripples of blue light across the walls. The air carried scents of exotic oils, floral steams, and mineral tang of the hot springs. All types of off-worlders were milling about in varying states of leisure. Some were wearing silk robes that were embroidered with unfamiliar sigils.

As CT-312 eyes scanned the large open space. Spotting the receptionist’s desk. There was a row of haloscreens. Cycling through advertisements for sister wellness spa centers and luxury complexes scattered across Skull Ridge Mountain. Each promising an ‘unparalleled serenity’. She began moving towards the desk. Her visor made contact with the nearest receptionist.

The receptionist’s eyes lingered on her for a moment. Taking in the snow gear and the patrol insignia on her pauldrons, before shifting back to the spa client in front of them. A silent signal to wait. CT-312 was calculating the new found information of multiple large targets. Oh Boy. If they were going to take these down one by one. It was going to be a slog. Her gaze lingered on the rotating maps and connection hubs. The gears in her mind turned. There had to be a faster way to gut the whole network in one strike….

A chime by the receptionist caught her attention. Eyes snapping at the sound. Watching the transaction unfold. Some guests paid in physical currency. Others used pin numbers. And those who wanted the extra security pressed their eyes to slim vertical scanners for a quick retinal flash. Palms were laid against glowing biometric plates. For a spa like this, it clearly brought in the big bucks. When the client was finished and stepped aside, the receptionist finally waved CT-312 forward.

“Can I help you?”

Moving closer, CT-312’s vocoder replied in a small whisper tone. “Security teams are keeping things quiet. We’ve got a large creature in the vicinity. Currently tracking it. But for the guests’ safety, no one is permitted to leave the Wellness Spa until further notice."

Surprise and uneasiness flickered across the receptionist's face before nodding quickly. “Understood. Thank you for the update.”

CT-312 gave a nod and walked on. Despite the snow gear and being armed, no one looked twice at her. Not with uniformed guards and security droids already moving through the spa. The place blended with military-like presence with hospitality. Those she passed gave a standard nod of acknowledgement before resuming their rounds.

As she kept moving further in, CT-312 made mental notes of patrol patterns, cameras, and exits. Her eyes landed on a humanoid security droid that came into view. The Scout adjusted her path. Approaching with causal stride of someone on routine duty. Pulling from her pouch, she palmed a Slicer Droid. Passing by the security droid, CT-312 accidentally brushed into it. Stumbling just enough to tap its backplate. The tiny slicer droid leapt from her palm, clinging to the droid’s plating. Vanishing into the small gaps of its joints.

“My apologies”

The security droid paused. “No damage sustained. Carry o—” It’s voice stuttered. Optics dimming as the system glitched. Lights flicked again. A faint digital static in its tone as the rebooting finished.

Patting it on its back, as if checking for damage. CT-312’s other hand caught the retuning slicer droid as it scuttled back up her arm and into the safety of her pouch. Tilting her head slightly, asking with feigned concern "Everything okay?" Keeping up appearances.

“Y-yes. It seems I do not recall what I was doing.”

CT-312 dipped her head in a small nod. “Your orders are to assist me as needed. You were in the middle of escorting me to the main security room. Let’s keep moving.”

Its optics brightened in acknowledgement. “Ah… yes. This way” Turning on its heel and began down the corridor. Heavy foot falls echoed against the polished floor. CT-312 fell silently in step behind. Following.

 

[Skeevi Merrill]

Koda stepped down on the man's wounded shoulder and pressed a knee into his torso, unsheathing the glowing vibroblade before getting to work carving out Skeevi's desired cybernetic.

"Not likely."

OUT BACK OF HUNTER'S REST
ADJACENT TO OBJECTIVE 3
KWENN STATION

Skeevi was a backseat driver with a lot of pointers on what leads to cut and what to save. The collarbones, for example, could actually stay intact. The Arkanian would live if he handled the next half hour right.

As it became clear that Fett knew what he was doing, Skeevi found it in themself to shift priorities from micromanagement to lookout duty. The Arkanian wasn't particularly quiet about the forcible implant extraction. So far everyone passing the nearest T-junctions had hurried on like this was an alley in the undercities of Denon, Coruscant, and Nar Shaddaa, Skeevi's only three worlds of residence so far. The passerbys' ignorance brought powerful nostalgia for Seven Corners.

"Lookin fine to me." Skeevi spritzed the implant with disinfectant from a spray bottle for a better look at what was intact. "Yep."

They got out a ziplock bag for it, and also their datapad.

"So twenty less the rebate - there y'go, frell, you were easy to find on this thing, got yer billing set up perfect. Fifteen transferred."

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Objective: Spa Day! Wait, we had a mission?
Tags: Eira Dyn | Jacen Breska | Darth Carnifex | CT-312 | Open for all
Loadout: Generic big floofy white towel. And fuzzy white slippers.

---

If one four-armed masseuse had been good, then four of them working on the Sithling's body was nothing short of decadent treason against her ability to ever enjoy anything less. Sixteen hands, all warm and slicked with fragrant oil, moved over her the fingers of professional pianists, each knowing exactly where to press, when to pull, and how to coax the knots in her battle-worn body into surrender. Years of training, fighting, and never giving her muscles more than a cursory stretch had left her tight in ways she didn't realize until now. Every scar, every stubborn strand of sinew, was being worked with the kind of care one might give to a priceless artifact.

One set of hands focused on her shoulders, thumbs rolling into the thick cords that anchored her arms to her back, digging deep enough to make her hiss through her teeth before melting into a low, satisfied hum again and again and again. Another pair traced slow, deliberate lines down the length of her spine, each stroke pushing tension lower, scattering it into her hips where yet more hands were waiting. The oil, which she found herself actually enjoying though it was usually very far from her list of preferences, was heady and spiced, with a faint citrus lift that warmed as it met her skin, seeping into muscle until it felt like the heat came from within. There was also soft music somewhere in the background, but she barely registered it.

Her legs, usually an afterthought in massages, were given no less reverence. Palms pressed along her calves, lifting and kneading as if they knew exactly how often she launched herself into impossible fights, how hard she ran, how she never truly rested. Her thighs were worked with long, slow strokes that seemed to undo months of stubborn tension in minutes. Even her feet, which Scherezade most definitely did not pay attention to at any point in time unless she stepped on something sharp, were cradled and coaxed until her toes curled in lazy pleasure. Every touch felt precise, calculated, and soooooo indulgent in a way that made her wonder if they were taking just as much satisfaction in the craft as she was in receiving it.

Scherezade's mind drifted, but never completely. Somewhere, she was still the Sith Warrior who could spring into action in a heartbeat. But here, in the low golden light and perfumed steam, she allowed herself the rarest luxury and to simply be. No fights, no missions (except the one that sent her there, but we don't have to think about that right now, do we?), no blood. Just the steady, all-encompassing rhythm of skilled hands turning every last knot and ache into warm, weightless bliss. If the galaxy wanted her back, it would have to wait its turn.

 

[Koda Fett]

Before it was over, the lump of Arkanian passed out from the pain. It made the job easier, once the noise and squirming died down.

"I've done this before," he said dryly with the downwards flick of the vibroknife, sheathing it in his armoured gauntlet.

Fett saw the credits wired through to his account via the helmet's HUD, able to offer a curt nod in return. It was a one-time trick, this cybernetic trap, and so he decided against re-entering the Hunter's Lodge. He was already deservedly disliked in the underworld, especially among that crowd. He tossed a wave of his shoulder amid his departure. "See you 'round, Skeevi. If I collect anymore, I'll find you."

Skeevi Merrill

 

[Quinn Varanin]

//: Mercy //: Mauve du Vain //: Kaila Irons //:

Quinn happily let the conversation wash over her. She wasn't eager to draw attention — better to sit back, keep her thoughts to herself, and indulge her feelings if she chose. Emotions were inconvenient, but lately, she was beginning to understand what Darth Prazutis had been trying to teach her.

Let it all go, and she could rule.

She only had to let it go.

The thought slipped when she realized something had been pressed into her hands. It broke the quiet hold of the Sith Lord's lesson. Running into Mercy again had been a coincidence, but a welcome one. She'd forgotten how easily the woman's carelessness rubbed off.

Gracefully, the Princess took the drink, indulged, and passed it on. She then dabbed her lips with the napkin being careful not to smear her lipstick — and for an instant, a memory tugged. It flickered and was gone the moment she crumpled the paper.

She ignored what was happening during Mauve's turn in the game. It was too easy a reminder of how needy and pathetic Quinn could be. Her fingers rubbed the napkin, seeking distraction in texture, in anything physical.

At least Mercy's arm was there, a quiet anchor against the gnawing want for contact.

"Diplomacy missions?" The question pulled her back. Anathemous. Of all people to address her. She'd assumed the woman was content pretending she didn't exist.

"Oh, I wasn't on Hapes. My last mission was Weilu — bankers," she said lightly, forcing a smile. That meeting hadn't gone to plan.
It had been a traumatizing experience, with Mauve here, she felt it better to not linger on the topic too long.

The face of Aurelian Veruna still haunted her dreams.

"Black Sun territory has been far more welcoming. I find I enjoy their company more enjoyable than the Empire's." She smirked faintly, knowing Anathemous would understand precisely what she meant.

"As for drinking Mercy under the table — Force knows I'm hopeless. I barely know how to hold a pint glass." She laughed, genuinely this time.

The warmth of the alcohol was settling in — shots, ale, and whatever Mercy had slipped her. Her cheeks flushed, a hand idly toying with the dangling end of her choker.

At least now she didn't have to think too hard about what was happening around her. Or how much she hated wanting it.

 

[Drakon Teague]

BANTHA'S WILD CANTINA| KWENN STATION (OBJ 1)​

Isur Jerec Asyr Nero Drake Levi

"Baaah!" Drakon laughed and grinned as he won another round of dice.

"Another round on me!" Drakon said spending his winnings as soon as he earned them. The Skull & Bones Pirates all cheered for their Captain.

Drakon got up wobbly on his feet as he stumbled away from the table. He breathed in deep. This was the life Drakon looked around him at the vibrancy of life you had Ithorians, Weequay, Nitko, Twi'lek's, Wookiee's, Shistaven, Theelin, Bothan, Togruta, Gungan, Falleen, Zeltrons, Gran and a host of other species some of whom Drakon didn't even recognise easily off the top of his head. At least not in his present state of mind. Drakon took a breath, what he really needed was another drink to steady himself. He made his way into the Bantha's Wild Cantina, leading his crew with him.

Where Princess Aurellia was making a toast to cover for the rest of the night. Drakon and his men cheered loudly at the invitation.

"Now lads thank her highness for her generosity." Drakon scolded his men as they rushed towards the bar. His crew looked at him confused some chuckled thinking it was a joke. Drakon stared them down.

"Er thank you your highness."

Drakon shook his head and dismissed them with a tilt of his head towards the bar.

"They're a little rough around the edges, but they have to be to be good at what they do." Drakon allowed with a wry smile.

"So did I here right? Your gathering an Armada? Think you could use one more Frigate?" Drakon asked curious.

It wasn't just that she paid well, though that didn't hurt. It was that being part of an armada that took back the Hapes for a Hapan Queen was a hell of a story to be told of him and his crew.

 

[Nero Drake]

BANTHA'S WILD CANTINA
KWENN STATION (OBJ 1)
Isur Jerec Asyr Levi Aurellia Drakon Teague

More pirates drifted into the cantina while the Hapan noblewoman began her rousing speech. Rumor spread quickly throughout Kwenn Station that some damn fool ithorian was handing out free starships to anyone who asked. Pretty soon there would be consequences for that exaggeration but until then she had everyone's attention.

"Long live the Queen Mother," Nero raised his tankard of revnog, "Hapan credits spend as well as any other."

"So did I here right? Your gathering an Armada? Think you could use one more Frigate?" Drakon asked curious.

"Aye, that's the spirit!" he turned to the karkarodon and devaronian pirates who were still trying to concentrate on an exotic deathmatch between nexu and crystal fox, "What about you lot, then? Willing to join Cap'n Madclaw and his first mate Nero in our quest for a little fortune and glory?"

Nero wasn't sure he believed an alliance of pirates could ever depose the throne of a world as powerful as Hapes but if this mad princess was really willing to pay for them to raid some frontier cluster worlds that could mean some serious credits. She reminded him of those tall tales about angels who lived on the moons of Iego. Maybe all those stories about Hapan beauty were worth seeing for himself after all.

 

[The Madclaw]

A rippled passed through the crowd, then they parted as a school of fish before a firaxian shark.

A tall, white-silver furred Wookiee moved through the wake. He wore nothing but a black skirt in the Mandalorian fashion, from which dangled a host of lightsabers and swords taken in battle - strikingly similar to those once owned by a certain Cathar.

He wore bells in the fur of his mane and they chimed with every step.

Standing before them all, the Madclaw of Kashyyk surveyed the gathered pirates, the Ducha, his first mate, the Vigo Jerec, and others, then with a motion he raised his paw high, to show his claws extended.

“We sail for Hapes,” he roared.

Nero Drake Aurellia Levi Jerec Asyr Drakon Teague

 

[Oleander]

//: The Madclaw //:
//: Nero Drake //: Jerec Asyr //: Aurellia //: Levi //: Drakon Teague //:
//: Attire //:

Oleander was on a mission — find whoever torched her beloved garden on Hapes.

The house? Replaceable. The garden? That was murder.

She'd spent her last credit getting to Kwenn Station, a nest for Black Sun types and other questionable characters. Information was her target.

Credits were the fuel she didn't have.

So, she improvised.

"Look ten years younger! Win every gamble! Polish so good your Beskar looks like you fought in every Mandalorian War!"

Her tray of bottles clinked as she moved through the crowd. One row of tonics promised youth, another luck, and in the back — small vials of suspicious sludge with a label featuring Koda Fett 's "grinning face" (his helmet).

Because, of course, he was number one.

She was mid-pitch when an enormous Wookie lifted a paw — or hand, whatever — and casually mentioned he's going to sail to Hapes.

Oleander froze. Jaw dropped. Face scrunched like she'd just swallowed her own poison.

Not Hapes again.

She was never going to financially recover from this.

 

[Hasuras Na-Gerra]

"Quite the success on Hapes," he said. "Firefist surely prays for your success here, that they are not faced again with such a scourge."

"Xeykard," rumbled the Vahlan giant, taking in the sight of the scaled Barabel.

"Firefist has not the riches of the Deep Core. It is those palatines who should fear the cleansing flame of Vahl."

The brows of the bigger man knit together as he thought.

"It has been too long, old friend."

 

[Mercy]

Quinn Varanin | Kaila Irons | Mauve du Vain

"Mm, I was the one on Hapes." Mercy murmured in response as she shifted slightly to allow Mauve to settle her head on her lap. "We carved our way into the Palace and I killed the old Queen Mother."

Said with such laissez-faire attitude. As if it was nothing at all, to not just take a life, but to take the life of a royal who controlled the lives of a whole Star Cluster of people.

It was her crowning (pun intended) achievement.

"Wait, wait - my turn."

Without further adieu the Zeltron flopped around in her seat, feet draping over Anathemous' leg, while her head sat in Mercy's lap, mouth open.

It became more and more clear to her that Mauve was trying to forget. If Mercy was a good person she might have slowed her down, paused her, let her know that they could just have a chat about these things. Whatever it was that had happened. But Mercy was not a good person at all. So instead as the bottle was passed her way, she took a deep gulp... and then curled her fingers around Mauve's neck.

Drawing her up as Mercy suddenly kissed her and made her drink right from the chalice, so to speak.

The kiss didn't end immediately either, but after a few breaths shared Mercy finally let go of Mauve with a smirk and a heavy sigh.

"I picked up a little killer after the execution too." Licking her lips and leaning back into the seat. Speaking as if she hadn't just made out with her fellow Vigo a moment ago. " Oleander is her name. Quite a lot of spirit in her, I think she will do well with us."

 

[Levi]

Aurellia - Nero Drake - The Madclaw - Jerec Asyr - Isur - Drakon Teague - Oleander​

Most of the pirates were drinking in earnest when a decidedly out-of-place woman took a seat at the bar. Levi immediately took note of her as she entered, watching in between sips. If he didn't know any better, she'd seem an easy mark in a dump like this; But the woman had a confidence about her that no one dared interfere with. She wasn't just here to make a fashion statement, but a job offer.

"We drink to the memory of the Queen Mother and the opportunity she left in her wake. I'll be leading an armada into the Hapes Cluster to seize what is mine… if any are bold enough to follow me and carve a name for themselves amongst new stars."

That seemed a good enough pitch for the scoundrels in attendance. It seemed quite bold to Levi, but then again the Black Sun wasn't just a network of lowlifes anymore. They had real weight, real power. A raid against an entire planet? Sure, why not. Better-known figures, like the mighty Madclaw, endorsed the scheme. Levi himself was more of a highwayman than a marauder, but a lust for adventure— and credits— could sway him like little else.

"What about you lot, then? Willing to join Cap'n Madclaw and his first mate Nero in our quest for a little fortune and glory?"

The Devaronian took another sip of his drink, "Guess I've got to see about wrangling up my crew," He muttered, mostly to himself. Jacen Nimdok and Judd had to be somewhere on the station…

 

[Mauve du Vain]

All thoughts vanished, consumed as scarred lips met hers and alcohol flowed from one mouth to another. The amber liquor burned across her tongue and down her throat, smooth and complex and slightly sweet. But the kiss went on, deepening and pulling her in like a riptide dragging her out to sea. And she’d suddenly forgot how to swim.

Lacquered fingers ran through Mercy’s hair, pulling tight. By the time Mercy drew away, Mauve was breathless and staring up at her, the woman’s hard thigh a pillow beneath her head.

Further down she felt cold claws skating across bare calves and she shivered, lavender skin prickling.

Mauve licked her lips and tried to remember how to think.

“Uh eh, Wielu. Right,” she murmured with a little silvery laugh, “what a mess.”

A mess that had nearly killed Quinn. And one which but moments ago had nearly gotten her branded by hot iron. She wanted to forget about it all. Drown it out with… more of this.

She found she was suddenly very comfortable right where she was and didn’t want to leave.

Quinn Varanin Mercy Kaila Irons

 

[Kaila Irons]

Location: Kwenn Station, Tallifax Inn
Wearing: Dress
Tag: Mauve du Vain Mercy Quinn Varanin

"Weilu?" so it was true.

"I heard... things..."

The former bodyguard wasn't sure how to feel about her own absence from the assassination attempt. Many months ago she'd have killed everything in that room for trying, but now?

Well, she decided to shut up and spare the princess for old time's sake.

Another shot was snatched off the table and down the hatch.

"Mm, I was the one on Hapes." Mercy murmured in response as she shifted slightly to allow Mauve to settle her head on her lap. "We carved our way into the Palace and I killed the old Queen Mother."

A surprised glance was given, lips curling faintly.

"Well, well? Mercy the Queenslayer~" she hummed.

"Well done."

Hell she was almost jealous. Gods know there was a young king back home who's throne she'd love to empty.

Strike that, she was very jealous, watching Mercy pick up the zeltron and force feed her next drink. Dark brows rose, and freckled features took on a more lively color whilst she wore an embarrassed smile.

"Mercy?" she laughed in disbelief.

"Oh I see what you mean about the company, Princess! I haven't seen anything like that since leaving the Kainites. Slow down before you choke her."

But then her smile grew impish. She leaned in, taking advantage of the empty space Mauve had left her, touching shoulders with Mercy now. All the while, golden eyes that took on a glow in the dim bar lighting bore down on the zeltron, and clawed fingers transitioned from gentle tracing to a leathery grip.

"Unless you're into that sort of thing."

Then just as quickly as it started, Kaila glanced up at her fellow Sith with a more inquisitive gaze.

"Where did you find this pretty thing anyway? How do you all know each other?"

​

 

[William Ames]

Objective 1
Location: Kwenn Station, Bantha's Wild Cantina
Tags: Levi | Aurellia | Nero Drake | The Madclaw | Jerec Asyr | Isur | Drakon Teague | Oleander
​

William had been lurking in his corner for a while now, just simply observing and drinking. Absent were the man’s usual blood red eyes, instead a more calm light blue. Sweeping around and taking a mental note of particular individuals that made themselves known.

There was the woman; Hapan if he were to guess, walking in like she owned the establishment. While she had clearly opted for less flashy clothing, to try and fit in with the usual rabble, there was no mistaking that ‘air of nobility’ that lingered around her.

And then there was the Madclaw, it was impossible to not notice the towering white-furred wookiee. Not just because of his stature, but reputation too.

The K’paur took another swig of his drink, a slight grimace at the bland taste of it. His eyes fell on the short redhead that made herself known. A look of recognition flashed in his gaze, just barely for a moment.

Huh, so this is who Mercy brought from Hapes?

Ames had heard about what happened there. Part of him wished he’d been there, if only to bear witness to the carnage and chaos that had been unleashed. But nonetheless he was here. Mercy was elsewhere, on ‘business matters’ as she had put it. Leaving the K’paur to entertain himself in the meantime.

But to also observe what Oleander would get up to while on Kwenn Station. He had to give it to her, it took some guts to step into a place like this, trying to peddle something amongst a den of lowlifes and criminals.

Ahh, what the hell. Might as well see what exactly she’s trying to sell.

Placing his drink down, William slid out from his corner booth and walked towards where Oleander was standing. His towering stature gave no quarter to anyone who tried to cross his path, he simply walked forwards until he was looking down at the redhead.

“And what exactly would you recommend, Little Red?”