Private Unlikely Meetings in Unlikely Places

[Lirka Ka]

There existed the phrase “old habits die hard”, and Lirka had decided such a phrase was horrendously stupid. She had died hard, very hard in fact, and her old habits still existed. One such habit had always been her enjoyment of the Underworld and sleazy cantinas, before becoming Governor of “Mandalore” she had frequented these such establishments whenever she got the chance. And whilst it had been many months she had (the whole dying affair did get in the way of things), the inherent violent stress of her position made a little bit of R&R well deserved. Even though “R&R” for Lirka always held at least some degree of bashing for morons face into a table till either the face or the table broke.

Nar Shadda had been the chosen planet for this venture, it’s great and all consuming metal towers were the perfect hiding place for the wonderful places in the Galaxy with greasy food and cheap booze. She dug into the depths of the Hutt moon, wearing her old armor: less gaudy than the new and something maybe one out of a million people would actually know. She had some semblance of a reputation, even if it was small. But, size was what really mattered down here: no one would touch the armored behemoth sauntering on it, and they left a nice opening in the corner of the Cantina; keeping their distance from this...alien...and it’s massive blade, which like how Lirka had done so many times before rested near her: showing it’s full splendor to all present, a warning to any who wanted to be bold. She sat there, for a time. Now it was just going to be a case of observing the patrons and the newcomers until she decided to drown herself in mediocre alcohol.

Valkren Calderon Beltran Rarr

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran Rarr walked through the streets of Nar Shadda, allowing the smells of a dozen different species and a hundred different types of food fill his nostrils. It had been years since he'd been here, before he joined the Antarian Rangers even, when a Hutt had paid a lowly Lorrdian mercenary to kill a Trandoshan and sent him to a world called Alaris Prime.

He glanced over at the man walking next to him, Valkren Calderon . Alaris Prime had been the place where they'd met, where Beltran had joined the Antarian Rangers and become a soldier, rather than just a killer for hire. For some time after joining, he'd convinced himself that he was working with the Rangers only as a starting point for his eventual rise to power. And in truth, from that position, he had been able to take over an arms company and secure several lucrative contracts with the Silver Jedi-all from the shadows of course.

For a mere Lieutenant, Beltran was richer than many of the Generals, Captains and Colonels that gave him orders. But that didn't matter so much to the Lorrdian. Credits were only a means to an end, and lately that end had been specifically to kill Sith and as many of them as possible as quickly as possible. The Silver Jedi force had managed to hold Kintan from the Sith invasion, but only barely.

Beltran was advocating for a more aggressive policy against the Sith, but so far things were moving slowly. So it was back to intelligence work, which was what brought Beltran and Valkren to Nar Shadda. An operative, one that had spent the last several months embedded deep within the Sith empire had sent a signal. They needed to come in, though for what they hadn't said. All they'd said is that they needed to met at a specific bar on Nar Shadda at a specific time, which was approximately five minutes from now.

Calderon and Rarr had been sent, under the guise of spacers hauling semi-legal cargo, to meet this operative. Each man was dressed in civvies, Beltran wearing a black pair of fatigue like pants over a tan shirt and wearing a stylish black vest. From his hip hung his "Reaper" Blaster Pistol in a drop holster, and he carried an expandable vibro-sword on his belt.

Nudging Calderon a little, he nodded toward the entrance of the bar. The very same bar, it would turn out that Lirka Ka had come to to let off some steam, only a short time earlier. "This is the place," He told Calderon before moving through the, somewhat cliche he thought, swinging doors and into the establishment proper.

 

[Valkren Calderon]

Nar shadda..Feth the bloody place. Ever since his first arrival here during his first mission with the galactic republic, he made only bad memories so on in the damned criminal-hive. As the pair walked the length of the street, Valk' would fish out a pack of cigarettes from the bomber jacket he was sporting. Without hesitation, he'd flip to life a lighter from another pocket and ignite the end of the smoke' while the pair continued on.

After flicking the lighters flame out, he'd stash it once more before giving a brutal cough. The cough wasn't so much from the inhalation of smoke from his now-lit cigarette as it was the stench from the surrounding market that just hit his nostrils. He'd lift an arm to cover his nose for the moment, scrunching his face up as they passed the stand of what the merchant believed was 'food.'

"Gods..That smell." Valkren dropped his arm in order to take another drag, taking a quick once-over on the market they just passed over his shoulder. As the smell of the nearby area passed while they moved away- the commander began to ponder just how long it would take before they were recognized. After all his time in service to both the old Galactic Republic and the Silver Jedi he was sure he had a few people that wanted him dead. Valkren could only assume that there were people looking for his friend Beltran Rarr as well- just by considering his past employment of course.

Eventually the pair would reach the outside of the cantina they would be meeting Rarr's contact at. He glanced up at the doors before looking back to his comrade. Valk' flicked the spent butt to the side using his index finger and thumb, soon after resting the same hand on the Stalwart blaster in his own dropholster.

After the Lieutenant's confirmation that this was the right place, Valkren would lift his left hand up in a sort of 'after you' motion, letting Beltran go ahead before following after him.

"Well, let's get this over with. The faster we get in and out- the better."

Lirka Ka | Beltran Rarr

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka watched all, with some help from her helmet of course. It was an amusing pastime to view the various worthless scum that walked their way into dens of failure like this one, even though she did find them rather homely on those days she wished to recollect on the life she had lived before her death. The Sephi had many such little quirks she had developed over her many long years of life, and one such quirk had been saving the Bio-Signatures of any opponent she deemed worthy enough to be considered for another fight, or of course, the bounties that got away in the days of yore. Beltran Rarr and Valkren Calderon had been two such men she had deemed, at least somewhat, worthy. Their fight on Kintan cut short by a rather obnoxious amount of rocks, as well as the failed invasion. Annoying little things, cutting their glorious little slaughter short.

But her helmet knew all. Quite a sum spent to keep it operating at peak condition, even in this old suit. And now, two very familiar bio-sigs had walked into this little Nar-Shadda Sleezeball. And Lirka couldn't have been more pleased, the scum here had been getting boring: and she intended to keep their limbs attached for now.

She waited, for a time, skulking in the shadows briefly. She wanted the men to look around, try and find whatever they were looking for. Then she struck. Slamming an iron-fisted gauntlet onto the table, letting her drink rattle (though Lirka, like a good bit of scum, would never let it actually spill); allowing her helmet to do the work of shouting.

"YOU!"

Of course, unknown to them, she had no intention of taking their limbs either.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran wasn't prone to displays of humor, but he allowed himself a slight smirk as Valkren Calderon complained about the smell. "Didn't you grow up on a farm?" He asked evenly, though there was a slight mocking tone to his voice. "Nerf dung can't smell any better." The truth was, the smells and sounds of the street felt like home to the Lorrdian. He'd come up on the streets and it was the only place where he really felt like he understood things. If somebody came at you, you put them down. That was life, that was survival. It was brutal, but it was simple.

As the two passed into the establishment Beltran's eyes coolly took in their surroundings. It was a hole-in-the-wall cantina like any one of a billion that littered the galaxy and it was filled with the various pieces of riffraff and scum that one would expect in a place. Every other being wore some kind of armor or cloak, covering their faces, and just about everyone had a blaster at their hip.

In his element, he stepped to the front and made his way toward the bar. Valkren would know to keep a few steps back, so as better to cover him if something went down. He had just about reached the bar when a insanely loud voice cut through the already raucous ambiance present in the place.

"YOU!"

In an instant, the Lorrdian whirled on his feet toward the voice. He knew it like he knew his own voice. As he came to face the Beast, wearing unfamiliar armor, but definitely the Beast, the Lorrdian had a rare, sinister, smile on his face. His expression looked every bit the predator about to feast as he pulled the hilt of his retractable vibro-sword from his belt.

"Yes," He told her, his voice soft but somehow able to cut right through the noise of the bar. "Me."

Spoiler: Mood Music

 

[Lirka Ka]

And rather than grab her blade and enter into combat in the middle of some sleazy cantina filled with people who will never do anything with their feeble mortal existence. She laughed, a hearty thing that showed the equally feeble state of Lirka's mind and it's favored notion of jumping between a dozen different emotions when it suited her. The joys of being, what was in essence, a glorified zombie.

"Come! Sit, drink! I demand it!"

It was, strange, to say the least. But Lirka was a strange "woman" with strange ideals. She returned to her seat, spitting out huttese at the bartender who finally allowed himself to loose the tenseness in his form. She beckoned him for drinks, reasonably expensive: she needed to provide something half decent for her honored "guest". After sitting down, she spread out her arms: she was completely serious.

The mad woman.

Beltran Rarr

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran's predatory grin faded as he beheld the mad woman, sitting in front of him with her arms opened in a gesture of welcome. In its place, a single eyebrow rose. He didn't doubt her sincerity, that much the Lorrdian could read in her body language. It was just...odd. Slowly, he replaced the inactivated hilt of his vibro-sword to its home on his belt.

She barked out a few phrases in Huttese at the bartender, which Beltran translated easily enough to know that she was demanding that drinks be served. It was odd, but not the oddest thing he'd ever come across. If she woman who'd he named The Beast in his mind wanted to have a drink, then he would oblige her.

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that Valkren had moved off into the crowd. Perhaps he'd caught a glimpse of their contact and was moving to speak with them. Or perhaps he was simply looking for a good vantage point from which to cover him as he approached The Beast's table and took a seat. Soon after, the bartender arrived with a new round of drinks and Beltran took a sip of a decent Corellian whiskey.

"You have my thanks," He told Lirka Ka , raising his glass toward her. "We missed you on Mandalore. I had hoped to repay you for the hospitality you showed me on Kintan."

 

[Lirka Ka]

After Mandalore, Lirka was frankly a mess: emotionally with the small bit of mental degradation. A depressive state had consumed her for a time, and so it had lead her to the empty nonsense of Nar Shadda once it had subsided. Lead her here. And lead her to the enemy.

But there was no true enemies here, this was merely the middle ground: Beltran Rarr had earned himself a beautiful death, and there could be no beautiful death on a meaningless world such as this. They were but people here, he was blind and deluded nonetheless, but he was just another part of the rabble that plagued this planet.

"I had...personal...matters to attend to."

She moved from the topic of Mandalore quickly, a swift jump away from the notions of Lirka's past that she refused to let fly across merely the smallest circles.

"You will be repaid, in time. While the Temples of the Jedi burn, and they are given their retribution: I shall grant you a beautiful death, one that will not be forgotten by all who see it."

How...friendly.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran sipped at his whiskey, listening politely as the beast-woman waxed on about death, destruction and the Sith way. The brown liquid left a satisfying burn as it made its way down his esophagus. When she was finished speaking, he nodded. "I like the imagery," He told her. "Burning temples and all that. Very poetic. Perhaps you should take up writing in your spare time?"

This wasn't mocking. In fact, Beltran was wholly serious. "All things burn," He continued on. "All Empires will fall eventually, even those of the Jedi and Sith. There was a time before them and there will be a time after them." This wasn't the self-serving nihilism that the Jedi so often engaged in while passing it off as serenity. Nor was it the broody whining that he found so typical of the Sith. It was simply a fact of nature. Nothing lasted forever, not even the stars themselves.

"You may well be the one who kills me," He said. "But do not expect that I will make it easy for you. Do not expect not to pay a toll for the privilege."

Lirka Ka

 

[Lirka Ka]

"Such are things they taught in the Courts of Thustra, do those still exist? Or did the Mandalorian savages and you Jedi rats ruin those as well?"

Lirka had lived her years, despite being comparably youthful to the majority of her species she was ancient to most human-esque lifeforms. And with that came the skill, when she was more sentient, to mix her unrelenting hatred with an old crass sarcasm that edged in and out of life within her warped and damaged mind.

"Jedi and Sith are the Force Cults that will destroy this Galaxy. I can appreciate Sith-Imperialism for it's efficiency, but they will fall inevitably. Such is the bore of mortal existence, all you whelps die so soon. So naive and blinded to the truths of this Galaxy. It is cute, to some extent. Until it grows bothersome."

But of course, that sarcasm had been brutally shanked a good handful of times by this growing arrogance, the so called "enlightenment" that had effected her worldview after having that whole "dying" fiasco those handful of months back. Never could quite look at the Galaxy the same after that. There was a hiss, and her helmet depressurized: the beast revealed it's face finally.

Lirka may have been beautiful, once, those vestiges of Thustra's adored Princess lingered somewhere in the blocky and androgynous features of her face now: entirely smooth skin, unnaturally so, no signs of damage pierced in. Instead, there were the swirling dark red tattoos that formed some chaotic nebula across her pale skin. A head of two-toned hair, a mixture of a near false-red and midnight black finally fell free from the confines of her helm. She was grinning, amused, a low and deep chuckle coming from where within.

"You think I jest, do you not? There is no price you can ever deliver to me, boy. I have been mauled by Slice Hounds, thrown from buildings, felt my limbs torn, my skin burn and melt, the stab of a dozen needles, the torturous minds of crime lords, the devilish twist of an Anzati assassin, the foolhardy attempts of a dozen vengeful sons, I have felt death itself. As a city burned around me, as an Empire died, as my bones shattered and my blood flowed like a waterfall into the city streets as I allowed myself to witness the artistic beauty of oblivion. I have felt the hateful spirits of Chaos tear and rend at my very being as I clung onto the vaguest sense of self, I have had death denied to me. Thrown into a rotting corpse to be remade under the cold hands of Kaminoians, to try and break my spirit, to make me a weapon, a tool for those who could only look down on me with disgust and pity. And with all this, I must know the fact that every scar I am now denied, ever being lost, all hundreds that I must kill stem from the foolishness of youth: my own stupidity the herald of annihilation."

She grabbed her drink, squeezing the glass as the liquid was thrown down her throat without so much as a thought or acknowledgement: the slightest bulge of veins in her neck as the machinery within her flesh applied unwanted amplification to her anger.

"And what of you, boy, what do you know?"

She spat the words Boy out, it was an old insult. One she had not used in some time, any could escape the title: if they so proved themselves, even a Jedi loving vermin.

Beltran Rarr

 

[Beltran Rarr]

As Lirka Ka removed her helmet, Beltran took a sip of his drink and watched her with cool indifference. Her attempts to goad him, by calling him boy, only caused him to raise an eyebrow at her. As she continued to list all of the horrifying experiences that had turned her into the violence crazed 'Beast' that he knew from Kintan, he finished off his drink and placed the empty glass down on the table.

He worked, with some effort he had to admit, not to appear bored as she went on and on. She did like to talk. Looking over her shoulder, he made eye contact with the barkeep and raised his hand a little, indicating that he wanted another drink. By the time she had finished, he was already sipping his new drink.

"What do I know?" He asked slowly, repeating her question out loud in a thoughtful tone. "Well, I know that I am growing bored. Bored listening to self-righteousness sanctimony. You're almost as bad as the Jedi for that, you know. If the Jedi are the out-of-touch parent wringing their hands because their child dyed their hair and got a piercing, you with are the whiny teenagers holed up in your room blaring loud incomprehensible music and complaining that nobody "understands" you."

The Lorrdian went silent for a moment, looking contemplative. Then he fixed the beast-woman with his piercing gaze and leaned forward. "What I know, is that everything that has ever happened to us, happened because we allowed it to happen. We're both monsters because we enjoy being monsters. That is what I know."

 

[Lirka Ka]

Lirka had always been a talker, well, she had always been a talker after going a little loopy. Maybe it was all the constant head injuries, maybe it was the whole dying thing and the trauma of being brought back to life, maybe she just always was. And she droned on for a little while longer with the various titles she had earned (or self-imposed) during her long life.

"Tisk, boy. You forget yourself. You sit among your elder, and we must learn from our elders. I have not the scars to tell stories anymore, so you must learn to be satisfied with mere words. We all do not share the luxury of normal flesh."

Yes. Of course she liked scars. As if she wasn't psycho enough as it is, the giant elf woman liked telling stories with scars. But then she laughed, a real and genuine laugh: it was a booming and obnoxious thing, it seemed he had actually amused her.

"To be fair, dear boy. I do believe I am the one here who has died before. And I must comment that there is so no such thing as incomprehensible music, I believe your youth is showing again. Boy."

She met his stare with her own, while her body held an unnatural youth those two diamonds she had for eyes held all the age, over a century of living in this Galaxy, wandering it's many dark corners, and the murder of hundreds, maybe even thousands, at the hand of one silly looking sword. And her grin only widen as he spoke, maybe this one actually had some semblance of hope left for him.

"You misconstrue, boy. I must suffer now under the fact that I have made foolish decisions when I was around your age. But through suffering we are enlightened. I have enjoyed much of my minuscule existence, and I shall enjoy it even more when I become something greater: you should join me, one day. I think you could make a fine Legionnaire."

Beltran Rarr

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran nodded. "No doubt I would," He told Lirka Ka . "Unfortunately my interests lie a little beyond simply being someone's walking murder machine. I work with the Rangers because it suits my interests to do so." He didn't much feel like going into the specifics, like how he secretly owned one of the major arms companies that supplied the Silver Jedi in their war against the Sith, or how he could probably buy his own moon or three if he wanted to.

"The Jedi at least, for all their sanctimony, generally honor their pacts and pay on time. In my experience, the Sith are a little more...tempermental. Which isn't especially good for business. Also, if I were to join you it would only be a matter of time before I was running the show. And I'd feel a little bad about doing that to Carnifex, he needs this."

Beltran allowed a little touch of bravado to enter his voice. It was better for the beast-woman to simply assume his claims were exaggerated chest-thumping in the face of her powerful might. The truth was, as Beltran saw it, that the model by with both the Sith and Jedi lived their lives was ultimately doomed to fail. It had failed over and over again throughout the millennia and would eventually do so again. It was only a matter of time.

 

[Lirka Ka]

"How disappointing. I would've found much use for you as a "murder machine". But we shall see where your feeble little mortality takes you, no? You will see the truth of this Galaxy."

Lirka truthfully, was nothing. She had held prestige once, the beloved Princess of a distant and overall forgotten world that hadn't held true influence for centuries: and had lived her life among this worthless Nar Shadda rabble, it had broken her for a time; she traveled the Galaxy on that spirit quest to understand where her loyalties laid, what her true mission in life was. She had found the answer to both: herself, and the ascension of Thustra.

"Sith are fools, in the majority. But the Empire is efficient, far more than moronic Republics and their offspring. A shame that those children must be attached alongside it. I feel Carnifex holds enough wives and children to keep himself more than busy when the mighty Jedi Bootlicker takes his Empire over from him."

And whilst he allowed bravado, Lirka allowed a dry humor. Whilst the tone only conveyed it in the most minor sense, she held her hopes that Beltran Rarr could at least pick up on a joke when he heard one: she had spent far too much time around droids in the South who didn't understand such "wonderful" comedy.

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Beltran wasn't generally one for laughing, or even showing most emotions. He'd learned early on that showing any kind of reaction was a vulnerability. If you liked something, or even hated it, it could be used against you. But he had to admit, Lirka Ka was kind of funny. So, he allowed himself a wan smile at her joke.

"It is good to know," He responded, his voice deadpan but hoping that the Sith woman would understand his joke. "That Carnifex has something to fall back on."

He didn't bother discussing her assertion that the Sith Empire was efficient. Totalitarian regimes often touted their efficiency, but the truth was that they generally were more inefficient than free societies. Fear as a motivator actually wasn't all that helpful. It worked for a while, but the fear that sentients could hold was finite. It could, and eventually would, run out. Then the Sith would face wholesale rebellion. That wasn't speculation, that was just history.

"I grow tired of the posturing," He said after a moment. "Let us just speak plainly. You say that you have died, tell me how did that come to pass?"

 

[Lirka Ka]

Sometimes, once you had wandered around the Galaxy as a murderous drunkard of varying degrees you were able to pick out a handful of jokes. Especially those that related to a complete and utter disrespect for authority: hypocritical as it was now. But Lirka was one giant, pulsing, enraged, mass of hypocrisy. She rested her arms on the table, some semblance of strain showing on her face for the briefest of moments.

"I posture as any true warrior of the Pit does. It is simply second nature, makes for a more enjoyable show."

Lirka's intentions were plain, but they were never the full picture. The Sith Empire was an efficient tool of destruction and conquest, in truth she cared little for the common mortal. The Sith Empire was a tool to the ultimate goal, to reclaim Thustra and herald her world to a new golden Renaissance of cultural radicalism: but deals had been made, and to have access to this mighty tool servitude was required. Her face held equal parts proper strain as she pulled these distant memories from her mind, and soon after it grew dour.

"Confederate Campaign against Jen'ari. Worthless Sithlings. Zomnira, I had fallen from a building again, as it does. I had a chunk of metal, I presume, that was about a meter long rammed through my chest: minor injuries, in retrospect."

It was far from the full story, and she paused for the moment: debating just what to actually reveal. And decided more was better, this time around.

"This is a fine time to tell you the pains of functional Immortality, Boy. It is a lonely existence, to know that you will outlive much of all that you know. It is why you are but a Boy, a passing interest that I deem deserving of something memorable. But almost all of these maggots around us, the Legionnaires that march in Moridinae, even the near entirety of the oh so mighty Sith Overlords? They are finite. Their time will end. And I will persevere. With this in mind, I must mention that nearly the entirety of my original honor guard were slain on Zomnira. And so, I was alone."

She paused, taking a long drink. There was some humanity left in the beast, however slim it was.

"And then I must speak to you of will. It is much easier to survive injury when you have the will to go forward, wherever that may be. As you can presume, I lacked such will, or at least it had finally been broken. So I consigned myself to watch the colors of an exploding artillery barrage and the fighting above and die on an insignificant rock. Did the Confederates care? I do not know. And in truth, I do not care myself anymore."

She gave him a smirk after that. Wait, she could smile?

"But here I sit, alive, an abomination to the rules of this Galaxy. My being was pulled into the Netherworld of the beyond, taken to the realm of Chaos that the souls of Dark Siders such as myself: in those times at least, would go. And I was torn asunder by the gestalt consciousness of existence, but I survived, a sliver of my being remained within that hellish realm. Those long necked bastards on Kamino decided I needed a new fate, as their newest fancy weapon to boost their prestige. I was pulled into my half decayed corpse, trapped in a bacta tank for...I don't know how long, to be completely honest. My existence was one of hate, as the Force that once flowed readily in my veins left me for the afront to existence I had become: an unholy cadaver of dark magics and science, consigned to be warped and twisted into their new and perfect weapon. They had done well, as you can see. They failed at keeping me on a leash. They tried to use pain to shackle their new monstrosity, but as you are well aware: I am no stranger to pain. And I broke free, blinded in a frothing hatred for that damnable planet. I planet I assisted in conquering, I might add. Though I no longer have the scars to prove it. But I digress: I broke free from my tank-shaped bonds, and the literal ones, and I slaughtered my way to freedom."

She was proper smiling this time, seems there was some semblance of warm nostalgia in massacring her captors.

"Hm. A longer story than I expected."

Beltran Rarr