Ask Hear Us Roar

[Zad Ruzed]

Spoiler: Music OOC

And, like that, an old man plays tag.
Trading places, trading hand for hand.
Zaia was still the old guy’s partner.
Had his back and saved his life…

“Make sure you play it safe, kid.”
Ranger’s fist bump on shoulder.
Cocks a brow, offers a stink eye.
“Eyes on the pilgrim—that Pyke.”

Outside, a man meets a woman.
Paper between lips—lit cigarette.
Taste of burnt paper—light head.
Casino lights blink yellow orange.

“Zad Ruzed.”
“That’s the name.”
Zad just then okayed.
“Sector Ranger.”
Spoke through haze.
“Thassright, stranger.”
“Do your part, and this will go smoothly.”
Old guy looks at brown eyes with his eyes.
Like his leather jacket, back of badge—black.
“Hutt said arrest or dead.”
Shrug.
“More or less. My part in all this mess…”
Smoke curls, grey, like ashes and death.
“Is to settle a debt.”
Aemi's face—red.
Turns his head...
“Let’s go then.”
So they went.
Took a left.
That exit.
End.
Do.
Done.
Did.
Ruzed.

---

Gallion Sky
Zad Ruzed
Cheriss Ktrame​

It was a smooth and mild ride to Gallion Sky.
A night club like others on this moon of blight.
Skyscraper to scrape the sky—towering so high.
Beneath its peak, back on the street, crime hides.
But no criminal can hide from Rangers of my kind.

“So…let’s recap, Cap.”
Not that she was Cap.
Clears throat of phlegm.
“Through the doors, then…”
Points forward then at datapad.
“Top floor…owner is Vor Vanad.”

Perla the Hutt had given the plan.
Option A: Get in and arrest the man.
Option B: Get in and just kill the man.
Zad doesn’t know who this woman is.
Daggers in her eyes…I got a feeling.

Trademark Ranger parks a shrug again.
“Alive or dead, we’re gonna bring ‘im in.”
Eyes around city sounds—crying drowns.
“For now…let’s just walk in ‘n’ get to talkin’.”

@Sicadorito

 

[The Storyteller]

Spoiler: Music OOC

What…
…What…
…What is…
…Is…this..?
…Is…this…
…What is…
…I…I…
…Think
…It is...
…???...

There are eyes.
Eyes…can see.
Light cannot hide.
Darkness bleeds.

A voice…can hear.
A voice…can speak.
A voice…is near…
At power’s…peak…

Are you there?
Are you stupid?
Hm?
An idiot, ‘kay?
Huh?
Of course!
What?
Yes!
Oh?

YES. I’m still in your head.
Who…killed you again..?
That other idiot—Lego…
Oh…that one…Laeo…
Answer my question...
Hm? What is it then?
Why do you suck?
I…erm…uh what?
STUPID DI’KUT.
Now, my sister.
KISS A BUTT.

He hears her voice.
In his head.
In his flesh.
He hears the noise.

They…talk to him.
Faint whispers…
Flay…ominous…
Sweet dead sister.
Pain…gone with…
Pale…red…wind…

A voice…is voiceless.
It speaks…and hears.
It reeks…of dead ears.
It moves…comes near.
Lingers…here…fear…

Sees a face.
Her pink skin.
Listens…in…
Brown gaze.
Brown hair.
A Sith mare.

In this city.
With no pity.
A grave in hell.
In…Gravenell.

A voice—gallivants the establishments.
Drifts like whispers—like smoke in air.
Creeps toward that woman—Ktrame.
The voice knows very well her name.
It floats in her bone—like mist—hiss.

Hello…Cheriss…

@Sicadorito

 

[Cul Laaster]

Spoiler: Music OOC

There were so many tongues.
Flicking back and forth like bugs.
She thought a Pyke was one such.
Her—Perla—Casino Queen—a Hutt.
Yet…a bug…well a Pyke…is anything but.
In due time, Pyke would show as much.

There she sat on her fat golden throne.
Stroking the skull of babe—so alone…
I could crack him…and break that bone…
A Pyke did not think twice to make die.
The life of a Pyke was of singular might.
Press the button…Hutt…if you dare try.

Eye to eye.
Hutt to Pyke.
No love, no like.
The Pykes must rise.
Our roar…so bright…
They would tell no lie.
The stars we will blind.

“Bodoko street.”
Cul repeats.
Folds arms before cold heartbeats.
“The Falleen.”
Pyke and Hutt gazes meet.
“I see…cleaning and sweeping the streets, eh?”

That smiling eye.
A Hutt’s gleams before Pyke.
“Perla the Hutt must have it her way…”
So Cul Laaster offered her a shrug.
“The nature of the game. I shall play.”

A Pyke turns to a Mandalorian at the gate.
“I have fought your kind before, Mandalorian.”
A Pyke’s violet eye again—eyes of violence.
“Formidable warriors. You are a grave threat.”
Tilts his head in a freeze.
“To my—our—enemies.”

---

Bodoko Street
Cul Laaster
Zaia Krodas​

From speeder to feet came Bodoko Street.
“Neighborhood is run by…Xuala Semleem...”
She was of course everyone’s hated Falleen.
That gilded silver that was this Pyke’s helmet.
Turns this way, that way—guardians at a gate.

“Shooting our way in is not the way, Mandalorian.”
He knew enough of her type to know they do fight.
“We go to the meeting, I’ll lead, and broker peace.”
A Pyke can whisper…can hiss…bide time…strike.
“One way or the other, we bring them to their knees.”

@Sicadorito

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

The nightclub was a magnificent one. It towered over the nearby buildings, and the view at the top was probably one to die for. As for whether or not Vor Vanad would…

“It’ll be up to him,” she confirmed. Making her way over to the door, it slid open as soon as the motion detector blinked and let the pair in. The interior was like any other club she’d ever seen. People were dancing and drinking, partying the night away. Bass drums and loud music thumped through the floor. But there was something about this one that felt off. She felt it in her bones, heard it speak in her mind. A hiss. An uncertain hand went to her temple.

Kayden? Unease began to set in. He was nowhere nearby— couldn’t be. She hadn’t seen him since Thila, but that voice was unmistakable. But there was no more after that, and she refocused on the Ranger beside her and the elevator across from where he was standing.

“There.” She nodded in that direction, approaching it just as the doors opened. They revealed a group of four, bottles in hand. The Rodians practically fell out of the elevator, two each crashing into her and Zad.

“Sorrrrry. Din see yuh there,” one slurred as he stumbled by. But as he did, she felt something change in the Force and she quickly moved to the side, watching as his arm swiped at empty air. The other Rodian had since vanished into the crowd before she could get a good look at his face, and she cursed inwardly. Karking pickpockets.

“You still have everything?” she asked Zad before making her way into the elevator. Hopefully he was either experienced enough to know how a petty thief looked, or that they wouldn’t have taken anything of value if he didn’t.

@Die Shize

 

[Zaia Krodas]

Zaia didn’t know much about gang warfare, but she did know that it involved a lot of negotiations that tended to get messy. It inevitably ended up the same way every time, so why not skip the talking? But if the Pyke wanted to go the traditional route, that was fine. She’d just have to be patient… even though she wasn’t great at it.

“Sure sure, whatever you say, fish-head,” she grumbled to herself before saying something so that he would be able to hear. “They’ll be on their knees soon enough. Just… try not to take too long with the talking.” She had the itch already, and it was only made worse when a group of masked thugs rounded the corner and came right for them, stopping a short distance away.

“Pykes aren’t welcome here,” growled one. His gaze flicked to Zaia as his men got into positions around the pair. “And neither are Mandalorians.” She glared back through her visor, then leaned over slightly to whisper to Cul.

“Are you gonna, you know, do some of that negotiating thing?”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Gallion Sky
Zad Ruzed
Cheriss Ktrame

Spoiler: Music IC

A Ranger doesn’t really care about this kind of place.
Night clubs were places that were kinda in the way.
Strangers—hair of dogwood rose—and elevators—
Guards by those.
Suits—black rose.
Bouncers—big elbows.

Shoulder bump.
Tweedle Dumb.
…Tweedle Dee!
“Kark—My knee!”
An old man.
“Ah, dang…”
Takes to knee.
Cigarette ‘tween teeth.
It is such a bent thing.
“Last pack…”

…In the elevator…
…No Smoking…
…The infiltrators…
…Smoke screen…

A Ranger stands beside a woman of brown eyes.
Not much to do when you’re standing in the lift.
An old man stands with bent cig ‘tween lips.
“Forgot I left my sandwich in the fridge...”
At first—words out of insanity’s park.
No, a Ranger whistling in the dark.
“And my pit pigeon…as a kid…”
The doors open just then...
Like lips in a woman’s kiss.
Zad Ruzed remembers hers.
Zabrak’s whispers against skin.
Remembers her attackers within.
What he did to five and will do to six.
First… Second... Third.... Fourth… Fifth…
He stands in a lift, curls fingers into fists.
Pay for this…make you dead…like she is...

Just then…the doors open.
But Zad sees only an ocean.
On viewscreen in a meeting.
Ranger—Mandalorian briefing.
And that Trandoshan assassin.
Got a thrashin’ and that beating.

A man and a woman in a corridor.
Through the doors then onto floor.
There’s an office at the end—door.
The pair move toward—to knock it.
But the owner is…not in his office…

“Mr. Vanad is in the back pad...m’man.”
Answers bouncer after asked by Zad.
“Private lounge—it ain’t for clowns…”
...I got eight ways to rough you round...
...And eighty ways to take you down...
“Only way you’re gettin’ in is with—”
A Ranger wants to finish with ‘a fist’.
Kinda stunt would complicate things.
Vor Vanad might be a darn dirty thug.
But alive, dead, couldn’t have him run.
Flash a badge? Yeap...bad idea, that one.
"Yep, you bet, guessed it: an invitation..."

@Sicadorito

 

[Cul Laaster]

Bodoko Street
Cul Laaster
Zaia Krodas

Spoiler: Music OOC

Souls in the city street.
A Pyke knew of such things.
A time when Pykes were cities.
When they ruled more than streets.

Whoever these masked morons were.
Their faces beneath could easily burn.

A Pyke could play.
Could negotiate.
It was his way.
Or highway.
Cull, Cul.
Slay.

But not yet.
Patience, yes.

“You are mistaken."
Speaks a Pyke!
Of violet eyes!
Violent cries!
Silent night!
Hands behind back.
Cul’s an elegant man.
Tilts head, takes stand.
“I am not Pykes.”
Eyes into eyes.
"I am not a Pyke."
Eyes into eyes!
“I am the Pyke!”
A cold cold bite.
Night goes quiet.
Dark is the light.
A kind of twilight.
Gravenell City.
Moon is pretty.
Though no sky.

“I am Cul Laaster.”
Here, that mattered.
“This Mandalorian is my guardian.”
Permitting one per given meeting.
“So go, move along, tell your master.
The Pyke is here to discuss matters.
The Pyke, Laaster, wants to see her."
A Pyke has a gun—A Pyke can shrug.
“So we don’t instead talk with blasters.”

@Sicadorito

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Cheriss didn’t fully understand what the Ranger was getting at with whatever a pit pigeon was, and neither did she care about his forgotten sandwich. If it didn’t affect their mission, it wasn’t worth her time.

Soon they’d discovered that Mr. Vanad was in some kind of private lounge, but that wasn’t a big deal. Hadn’t Perla been locked in a throne room? If she could get a meeting with a Hutt without an invite, surely a club couldn’t be much more difficult.

“We have an invitation,” she said, but the bouncer didn’t seem to believe her.

“Then where is it?”

“Right here.” She pulled out her datapad. It was a blank screen, but a little manipulation of the Force would make it look like something else entirely. She waited for a moment for his reaction, and let out an inward sigh of relief when he accepted it.

“Checks out, I s'pose. You two don’t look like the type, but Mr. Vanad’ll make the final call. Move along.” He waved them away, and the pair were off. Close one.

Spoiler: Dice Roll

Rolled 6 for the bouncer

@Die Shize

 

[Zaia Krodas]

“There’s a Pyke named—” One Feeorin paused to look at Cul again before one of his friends whispered into his ear. “Cull Laser who wants to see you.” He stood there for a moment until he got a response that sounded a lot like yelling on the other end. Zaia almost felt bad for him when he looked up again.

“Boss says she’ll see you. Come on.” He waved his hand, and the men surrounding them lowered their blasters, but just slightly. The group began to move on, still forming a loose circle around the Mandalorian and the Pyke, and Zaia glared at one when the Weequay prodded her back with the barrel of his. Well, hopefully the time to be diplomatic would be over sooner rather than later.

The pair were brought to a very shady-looking building that was a couple stories high, but the exterior looked like it had been abandoned for ages. This was the base of the Hutt’s greatest rival? It looked like one small grenade could topple the entire thing.

“Rule number one.” Zaia looked back at the Feeorin. He was in no place to be making demands, but whatever. “No weapons.” He looked at her for that, and she lifted her hands as another crony removed her blasters from her holsters. Not that she needed them. They did the same with Cul.

“Rule number two.” Di’kut. “Don’t get on her bad side. I’m saying this for your own good.” Zaia wanted to roll her eyes. How bad could it be?

“Can we go in now?” The Feeorin looked at her for a second before nodding. He would scan a card to open the door, and she and Cul were ushered inside.

“This is the Pyke who wanted to see you.”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Gallion Sky
Zad Ruzed
Cheriss Ktrame

Spoiler: Music IC

In a nightclub.
Within a nightclub.
New setting, new one.
Same setting, new room.
Comes with new music too.

It was more dancey, maybe?
Def’nitely more…half-nakedy.
Around poles, bare legs swing.
On a platform, heels -click-cling-.

Most of the men are in black suits.
Zad has a black jacket of his own too.
A cigarette sits between lips, he lights it.
Considers whiskey at the bar, no time for it.
Here for, not for women and music, but business.
A Ranger is unfazed as he navigates this ‘n’ that way.
A blaster at hip, wasn’t really his, but a Ranger lives for this!

Thanks to a Sith named Cheriss, the pair had a kind of invitation.
A Ranger would play his part next—investigation—also interrogation.
He’s looking for the son of a gun who'd in turn lead him to the next one.
One thing is for certain: a Ranger has not come to this club for a negotiation.

A bouncer at the back.
Another clown in shades.
A Ranger just wants to attack.
Nope…hold back, Zad, just wait.

At the bouncer’s back—a black settee.
Looks comfy and so does the girl on a knee.
A fat man is surrounded by gals and guards...
But a pair of male-female partners come along.

“Excuse me…”
Bouncer raises a hand like a stop sign.
Zad looks left—at Cheriss—then to the right.
Wannabe tough guys, all right, and that’s fine.
Blows smoke—whispery—past bouncer’s face.
He doesn’t flinch or look away—looks unfazed.
“Do you have…invitation?”

Butter my biscuits…not this again…
A Ranger, Zad Ruzed, shakes his head.
If it wasn’t for the morons flanking his mark
A Ranger would headbutt, crack rib into heart.
Then again…this is this Ranger’s favorite part…

Spoiler

“Here’s your invitation, friend…”
They were in deep enough now.
No need to keep fooling around.
Badge in hand—Ranger-strong.
“Fair enough, then. Move along.”

@Sicadorito

 

[Cul Laaster]

Bodoko Street
Cul Laaster
Zaia Krodas

Spoiler: Music OOC

“No weapons.”
A Pyke would comply.
He had less than his counterpart.
Offers his blaster and lifts his arms.
They were fools to think he was disarmed.
A Pyke is...a weapon…

“Don’t get on her bad side.”
Says an insect to a Pyke.
The pair are led inside.
Not dark—not bright.
A voice by a light…
“Ah…just in time.”
Female Falleen.
Xuala Semleem.
“Sit, if you please.”

Like that's a request.
A Pyke might guess.
How tonight may end.
With my rivals dead.

The Falleen is a…gleam.
Diamonds glitter her vest.
White garments—pristine.
Obsidian pendant on chest.
White like the eye of a moon.
Grave, Gravenell, Sevenmoon.

“Can I offer you wine?”
An arm spreads aside.
A table—ivory white.
Bones of her foes?
A Pyke might joke.
Inside mind, in head.
“No. I loathe white.”
“Mm…okay…fine.”
Opens a chest.
Out comes red.
A smile—so very sly.
“Not poisoned, my friend.”
Oh…we are so much less.

Red nectar swirls into glass.
A Pyke swirls glass in hand.
A Falleen spreads lips—sips.
A Pyke does too—no helmet.

“Shall we discuss business?”
A Pyke is patient as he sits.
“Perla the Hutt suggested—”

“—That we meet for peace?”
A Falleen’s kind of cackle.
A blaster does not crackle.
“Well…mmm…let’s see…”
A woman’s grin—her teeth.
Eyes to the left—her guns.
Eyes to the right—the Pyke’s.
Though a Pyke had only one.
Xuala looks at Zaia’s getup.
“Who are you, Mandalorian?”

@Sicadorito

 

[The Storyteller]

Spoiler: Music OOC

…Kayden…
O-Kay-den.

Yes…Cheriss…
It’s me…again…
But I never left…

Could she hear him?
Was she listening?
To learn a lesson
A Sith must bleed.

At black hole’s gate.
A queen—Darkness.
Was rage, hate, pain.
That kiss from Death.

Skyler chased the sky!
HIGHER. HIGHER.
He peeled the layers!
FLAYER. FLAYER.
Of time and space!
LIAR. LIAR. LIAR.
Black hole’s quake!
…ANNIHILATE…

It is…dark here…
I have...no fear…

Fear was a Sith’s emotion.
But this Sith hardly knows it.
He is not so powerfully twisted.
He just…isn’t your average Sith...

There is…silence…
Like my ship, Silence.
I can hear no…scream.
And we…must meet…
You must…come see…
Quietly…come…quiet…
To this one place, Cheriss…
In the Gravenell Aquarium…
That is where you must come.

A voice...in the dark...
Darkness...can we kiss?
A Sith lives for it! This!
He would burn stars!
Make the galaxy dark!
Turn off all the lights!
FOR THE DARK SIDE.

@Sicadorito

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

This nightclub disgusted her the more she walked through it, and Cheriss could only imagine the filth that was the man they were looking for if he was hanging out in a place like this. No wonder the Hutt’s plan was for the Ranger to present her as some sort of gift— it was probably foolproof given what she’d seen on the way to the room.

She could sense the turmoil within Zad too, the hate, which she found more intriguing than anything else. What stake did he have in this? But she could find out later, after Mr. Vanad was taken care of.

Once the badge was presented the pair made their way in, and quickly caught the fat man’s eye.

“I don’t remember giving either of you an invitation,” he said, licking his lips as he looked from the Ranger to the Sith. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before looking back at Zad, his arm wrapped possessively around the shoulders of the girl next to him.

“What are you here for?” he would ask, a lazy smile playing across his face. “You want something from me, don’t you?”

Cheriss was about to respond. Then that voice struck her again, and she struggled to not let it show on her face. Not now, Kayden. She didn’t even know if he could hear her, and it was probably the worst time for him to show up again. But she would remember that location, for when it was right. For now, she had to focus.

@Die Shize

 

[Zaia Krodas]

The Falleen reminded Zaia a little too much of a witch for her liking, even if she was dressed like anyone but. The way she talked and cackled, it all felt forced, and though it was certainly Cul’s choice on whether or not he wanted that wine, she personally wouldn’t have taken it.

She was happy to stand in the background and let Cul handle things when the Falleen’s attention turned to her. It looked like she wasn’t getting out of this that easily.

“I’m his guardian.” She repeated what the Pyke had said earlier as she tilted her head in his direction— it would make sense in this context. “Here to see that this deal goes peacefully.” Not that she was hoping for that to happen, but it would be up to the Falleen to decide what to make of it. Perla had given them options for how they were to resolve this territorial dispute.

The woman smiled and nodded, her expression about as readable as a politician’s, and Zaia crossed her arms as the Falleen spoke again.

“Mm… how did you get yourself a Mandalorian pet? I always fancied myself one, but they don’t come cheap.” She sighed, tracing a finger along the edge of her pristine white desk before she glanced back at Cul.

“Alas, I have better things to do with my resources.” She chuckled. “Now, what are the terms of your propose?”

@Die Shize

 

[Zad Ruzed]

Gallion Sky
Zad Ruzed
Cheriss Ktrame

Spoiler: Music IC [Recurring]

A Ranger doesn’t remember needing an invitation to get in.
He’s getting fed up with this backroom kind of dirty business.
Did none of these dumb buzzards know who Zad Ruzed was?
No, they didn’t—if they did then they would’ve already run.

What a Ranger wants was right now what a man wants.
A fat one at that—a lecherous look at a brown-eyed cat.
A feline—lethal eyes—sharp claws ‘n’ teeth—hair long?
Zad wants a woman who is dead—no hair—a Zabrak.

“I’ll take one o’ those.”
Smokes a cigarette.
Gestures his head.
Down—to the left.
“Whiskey. Neat.”

Eyes into eyes.
Vor Vanad’s.
Into Zad’s.
Fat.
Man.
Do.
Done.
Did.

“Pour one for our Ranger friend.”
Vanad grazes thumb on skin again.

“Don’t think I caught your name.
What was it?”
“Don’t think I ever gave it.”
Whiskey burns lips.
Zad loves it.

“Zad. Zad Ruzed.”
A brow arcs then.
“Heard you tend to…step in dirt.”
A Ranger shrug and nods head.
“Guess ya can say that. Sure.”

Perla the Hutt had sent them to arrest.
Vor Vanad: or just kinda make him dead.
But a Ranger is useless and pretty stupid.
If he don’t use this as opportunity at best.

“What do you know about the Daggers?”
Vor Vanad smiles—prepares an answer.
“You’re better off asking…the Badger…”
Whoever that was—defo another matter.

“And now my patience is wearing thin, Ranger.”
Vor Vanad—fat man—does not realize danger.
Zad Ruzed does. Thinks this might yet be fun.
Too many guards… And I can’t let him run…

“Everything you heard about me, stranger…”
Yes—the Ranger—Zad Ruzed—he is danger!
“It’s all true.” Blows smoke; grey under blue.
The lighting here is kind of like dancing too.
Girly voices—a nightclub's tune—ear to ear…
“I’ll take that tip but, from a Hutt, gift to you.”

Zad is a kind of Rooster Cogburn.
Mean to his enemies—they hurt.
That said, he is still a good man.
Doesn’t believe it himself at that.

But a man like Zad is not like fat man.
He presents a gift, Cheriss, as an act.

“A peace offering. Set this one in your lap.”
Debating whether to give her ass a slap.
Nah…think that’d be pushin’ it…Zad…
Settles for a nudge at lower back.
After all, he has to play pretend.
Do, done, did…Zad Ruzed…
"My room. In the back..."
Zad will wait for a fact.

@Sicadorito

 

[Cul Laaster]

Bodoko Street
Cul Laaster
Zaia Krodas

Spoiler: Music OOC

Red wine.
Red nectar.
Cul’s had better.
Tastes were refined.

If the wine was poisoned.
A Pyke would know of it.
None in the glass, not his.
Laaster lips can taste poison.

More than that, a Pyke can read lies.
A Falleen has pheromones in smiles.
They amount to nothing in a Pyke’s eyes.
He is like a cold wind—reads her all the while.

A Falleen mentions a Pyke’s Mandalorian pet.
He doesn’t know Krodas—they only just met.
Yet he can smell the dead—on her is death.
If a Falleen isn’t careful? Will meet her end.

“The terms of my proposal are a…simple matter.”
Cul Laaster. That is the Pyke’s name. As called.
Once again, however, we break a fourth wall.
A Pyke is a Pyke, kind of like Tywin Lannister.
Not all the time…of course…but sometimes.
A Pyke plays a game…a game of thrones.
And in this game…you win…or you die…

“The Hutt controls the slave trade.
The Pyke controls the spice trade.
The Falleen controls the arms trade.”

“Okay.”
Shrug.
“Common knowledge anyway.”
Correct, bug.

“But we hold onto our territory with clenched fists.”
A Pyke realizes a Mandalorian might tire of all this.
“When we should be spreading fingers, loosen grip.
Some battles are won with blasters, won with ships.
Other battles are won with comlink, words from lips.”

A Pyke has one hand on his glass of wine.
Absentmindedly turns it upon the tabletop.
Not absent of mind—distracts other hand.
That one is beneath—it hides—upon—lap.

A Pyke has a snake hidden in his sleeve…
Bereft of helmet—no smile and no teeth…

“Authorities are beginning to crack down.
War is profitable but not always.” A frown.
It was perpetual for this Pyke, this one guy.
War was getting expensive, no mistaking it.
“Spoils of war. Now let peace have its time.”

A Falleen hesitates, gives a Pyke her gaze...
There is a grin on her face—filled with pain.

“Some of us are more stubborn than others...
The Pykes I am indifferent to. But I hate Hutts.
One killed my daughter—I was once a mother.
It makes sense. Settle differences. No grudge.”

A Falleen looks into the eyes of a Mandalorian.
Those pheromones again. Do they have effect?

“But, first, one condition must be met.”
Eyes into eyes. A Falleen’s into a Pyke’s.
“Bring me the head…of Perla the Hutt…”

Here we go again.
Same proposal.
But in reversal.
So...chosen death?

The greatest fools
Are ofttimes more
Clever than the men
Who laugh at them.
Apart from fools,
A Pyke rules, that
There is a tool for
Every task, a task
For every tool.
So spoke not Laaster. But Tywin Lannister.
A Pyke isn't Tywin—but is inspired by him.
Words in shapes do spell a letter—an “L”.

@Sicadorito

 

[Cheriss Ktrame]

Zad’s question about the Daggers piqued her interest. Cheriss hadn’t suspected Vanad of knowing anything about them, but he did seem to have connections with them. Maybe this group had greater influence than a lone Trandoshan businessman and a Hutt. But then, if they were supposedly on the same side, why would Perla be taking him out? There was a lot to think about.

The moment Zad put his hand on her lower back, she knew what he was getting at. And even though they’d planned this, she still dug her heel into his foot just before he pushed her forward. Couldn’t he at least do it in a more dignified manner? Vanad’s face as he did was one that disgusted her infinitely more than anything else she’d seen tonight, and she turned around briefly to give Zad a glare when the fat man brushed off the girls clinging to him and threw his arm around her shoulders instead. I won’t forget this, Ranger. As difficult as it was, she forced a smile when Vanad’s hand went to her chin and turned it so that she was looking at him. She was going to have a great time killing him.

“I’ll give her this. The Hutt does know how to choose a good gift.” That we can agree on.

The door opened. His room was simple, composed of just a bed and a desk in the corner. She didn’t get much time to look before Vanad plopped himself right on the bed, pulling her down with him so that she was practically leaning on his shoulder. By the Force, did he smell. It was worse than the sewer-rats of Corellia… and maybe even the Hutt. She moved over just a little to give herself some breathing room, though it wouldn’t be enough for him to notice.

“It’s a fine establishment you’ve got here,” she said, hoping to get him to talk a little before she disposed of him. Not that she was hesitant to do it, but she was still trying to think of a way to go about getting the information they wanted in addition to getting the blame of his murder put on someone else instead. There’s got to be something…

@Die Shize

 

[Zaia Krodas]

The Falleen hated Hutts. Zaia would have been surprised if she’d said she liked them. Who did? All they were were scheming worms who profited off of the suffering of other beings. They thought they were so powerful, so invincible at the top of their golden thrones even though they were just as mortal as anyone else, and one good shot of a blaster could—

“Perla’s head?” Zaia blinked. That had escalated quickly. Both syndicates were pointing fingers at each other, and with the Pykes and her right in the middle of it. One thought in particular crossed her mind. What if we took them both out? Both were criminal scumbags, and she couldn’t think of any negatives for good people. But that would leave a power vacuum… and those practically begged to be filled. She glanced at Cul. It wasn’t like the Pykes were any better… and if Perla was dead, that meant any information she had about the Daggers would be gone. That left only one option.

“Sorry, Miss Weapons. We came here to do business, not to be hired as hitmen.” The truth of that statement could be argued, but it wasn’t as if the Falleen knew anything about it. “It’s deal or no deal. No extra favors.” She crossed her arms. “Though I am sorry about your daughter.”

@Die Shize

 

[The Storyteller]

Gallion Sky
Vor Vanad
Cheriss Ktrame

Spoiler: Music IC

A simple room.
With music too.
There is no flute.
Jazz is the tune.

A desk is not just a desk.
A bed is…not just a bed.
Upon both do they rest.
His prizes did, in a sense.

Tonight, however, just one woman.
Whether desk or bed, thinks man.
Desk is elegant but bed it is then.
Offers her his musky man scent.

Vor Vanad is the name of this man.
I am the narrator now, not his POV.
So will tell you that, yes, he stinks.
A lecherous wretch defined as 'fat'.

Vanad wanted the woman on his lap.
Settles for her shoulder in his hand.
“Thanks, sweetie, yes, it’s…fine...”
Eyes upon eyes—then her thigh.
“Trouble you for a glass of wine?”
Twists his torso toward the right.
Table over there by the bedside.
A glass, a glass, red, into hands.

“Truth be told I kinda won—HIC”
He hiccups, nearing being drunk.
Also takes out a bottle from pocket.
“Doc says not to drink with medicine.”
He ignores his doctor and looks at her.

“Can you keep a secret, sweetheart?”
Smiling, leans in, fingers graze an arm.
“I swindled this club out from a Hutt.”
Knows this will impress his new love.
Leans in and attempts a gentle kiss.

@Sicadorito

 

[Cul Laaster]

Bodoko Street
Cul Laaster
Zaia Krodas

Spoiler: Music OOC [Recurring]

No simple room.
A Falleen’s tomb.
It was elegant too.
Quiet—is no tune.

Cul Laaster’s silent.
His eyes are violet.
All parties: violent.
The topic’s vibrant.

For a moment, he’s not sure.
He sits as still as hidden hand.
Beneath table, other on glass.
Listening, yes—watching her.

His partner finished speaking.
The Falleen is simply staring.
And just what might you be thinking?
Between both, her eyes are dancing.

A Pyke is not Force-sensitive.
Maybe some are but not him.
Cul Laaster—not Lannister.
Xuala’s eyes begin to burn.

Into him and into her.
A Mandalorian and Laaster.
Even killers—can have manners.
Words can form steps and can curve.

“I will be frank with both of you.”
Her eyes are still as lips move.
“I debated whether to kill you just now.”
I would have killed you first, cow.

“But this Mandalorian saved you both.
Genuine, no deception, her sentiment.
You never met my daughter, don’t know.
Her death is my anger…yes…my sorrow.”

“...”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“???”

“Very well. Business should not be personal.
At least…my revenge I shall simply table…”
A Pyke and a Falleen both lift their hands.
Blaster in neither—they sip from the glass.

“There has been enough war on the streets.
To the Three, then…we shall drink to peace.
Tell the Hutt more discussion to come indeed.
And now you two may kindly take your leave.”

It didn’t take a Pyke to read a Falleen’s eyes.
She had set aside emotion to focus on wisdom.
That took strength and was often not an easy feat.
No token needed to honor the words of that Falleen.

“Very well then.”
A Pyke stands up.
“And all the best.”
A Falleen’s shrug.

Always exciting, what rolling dice can do.
18 determined peace, leaving a lonely 2.
In a game of thrones, thinks a Pyke.
Now or later...you win...or you...die...

@Sicadorito