Log Date: 6/18/99 Log Cast: 'Arika' (Mara Jade), 'Dev Taras' (Lando Calrissian), 'Andris Vorlaan' (Han Solo), Morganna, Stalh, Grathix, Kasa Horansi bounty hunter (NPC emitted by Han) Log Intro: With the prices on their heads and those of their friends courtesy of both the Empire and the Hutts, there are few places in the galaxy where Han Solo and Lando Calrissian can go and expect to go unchallenged by the many bounty hunters eager to collect their fortune by turning them in. And among these places, Nar Shaddaa is arguably one of the last places either man would want to go... unless, of course, Lando needs to conduct illicit business. And unless Han needs a jolt of action to shore him up through the duties of running an army, duties threatening to drive him mad with restlessness after months of 'responsibility'. And so the two men have convinced Chewbacca to leave them to their own devices as they begin to search the Moon for useful contacts for Lando's needed transponder components -- but as it's happened, they've run into two women easily in a position to see right through their flimsy covers, Morganna Tazecks and Mara Jade. Aware that Mara could cause them problems but also possibly even help them if they played their cards right, Han has coaxed Mara into going for a drink with him and Lando. But of course, this _is_ Nar Shaddaa, and especially in the Corellian Sector, it takes very little to set off a brawl. Especially when the bar is full of people like Han and Lando, Jade and Morganna... and Stalh and Grathix. ---------- The room is filled with a hazy, dark smoke. Jade's form moves from the outside, to the inside, an electronic *hummm* registering her entrance, she's almost immediately assaulted with the thick, clinging haze. Long, dark shadows move slowly throughout the room, some lumbering of creatures which pause only to cast their gaze at the red head and company entering, before turning back to their drinks. Others, hidden in the shadows and confines of the boothes take more notice of Andris' clothing and dandy-air, after all .. an easy credit is always something the lowest of denzions love to prey upon. With her hand still crooked into Andris' arm, Jade's emerald orbs dance through the room, a mixture of atrophied force abilities, and knowledge allow her to direct .. subtly .. Andris and Dev's direction; away from the more darker aspects, and into a more quieter, unoccupied booth.. If they'll allow her to lead them.. naturally. It's not that stale, drifting smoke that bothers Dev, stinging his eyes and blurring his vision, it's the stench of spilt brew marking someone's past clumsiness and the establishment's complete lapse from anything that could be considered 'socially acceptible'. With a wrinkled nose, the ruffled starship captain's brown eyes move coincidentally along the same directions as the red-head on Andris's arm, taking in the potential trouble-makers as well as those that are obviously trying to hide in their own way. Keeping behind Andris and Arika, Dev moves along in the same direction the woman had chosen. Definitely, the place feels familiar. And although he's doing his level best not to let on that every sense in his body has gone on the alert for any sign of trouble, there is a briefly visible canniness in Vorlaan's eyes as he casts a seemingly lackadaisical glance around the room. "A private corner, my dear?" he murmurs pleasantly to the redhead on his arm. "How very wise." Then, the velvet-clad man casts that same seemingly airy regard on his other male companion, adding, "Captain Taras... perhaps you might acquire our drinks?" With that same, quiet and demure smile to Andris, 'Arika' nods her head once, idly motioning with a sweep of her free hand for Andris to sit first. "Of course.." She murmurs ever so softly, just enough to be heard through the humm of noise and activity around. As she motions Andris to sit.. so she might sit on /the end/.. open and able to move should the situation arise, Jade's free hand idly slips back into the confines of her green cloak, resting against the curve of her hip, hidden from view, for the moment. Clearing her throat once, while waiting for the 'dandy' to sit, the redhead's gaze flickers towards the 'Captain', speaking louder so he might hear. "Just an ale.." Dev's slip is quite minor... perhaps not even a slip at all as Andris's words reach ears that are concentrated on listening the tell-tale click of blasters moving from holsters while his eyes continue to search the room beneath a furrowed brow. With a quick shake of his head, he turns back to his immaculate friend, then casts a distracted glance at Arika as she gives her order. Smoothly, he gives the woman an almost leering smile before shifting his attention back to Andris, his countenance becoming a sneer. He says as he continues to slip back into character he's assumed, "I might, if I knew what -you- wanted. And you realize that -your- drink isn't free." In softer tones, and with that leering smile firmly back in place, he says to Arika, "You needn't worry about cost, my dear." For just a moment, his eyes flicker up and down what he can see of her. "_I'll_ handle our charming companion's libations," says Vorlaan in lofty tones. One hand vanishes deftly into the breast pocket of his shirt, one of the few obvious pockets in his garb, to pull forth a ten-credit coin that he flips lazily in Taras's direction in apparent utter unconcern for what such an ostentatious gesture might mean for him in an establishment like this. "Ale will suit me quite sufficiently." Then he turns effortlessly to 'Arika', adding in that husky rumble evidently intended for no ears but hers, "No, please, after you. What sort of gentleman would I be if I sat before you?" Under any other circumstance, Jade might have idly introduced Dev to just how much training this ex Emperor's Hand has access to.. Just for the leer and sweep of eyes alone.. However, Arika on the other hand, simply offers a smile.. One that carries no warmth, or tone.. as though placed upon her face, while dealing with the anger she holds inside.. not to mention contempt. Still, an actress to the best, with an airy laugh, her eyes shift back to Andris, leaning forward enough to rush a breath of air into his ear. "How .. kind of you, Andris." The first name is breathed through her lips with an added effort, even as she steps forward, sliding into the booth without much problem.. one hand still firmly clamped around the curve of her cloak, as though to keep it down..or something from clinking onto the surface of the table. "Though truly, such displays will only get you into .. trouble .. You might want to re-consider flaunting .. all you have.. We can worry about flaunting the rest .. in more private surroundings." Biting back the urge to sigh, Dev turns an adequately friendly smile on each of his companions, then moves on toward the bar, rolling the cred chip across the tops of his fingers. One good thing... 'Arika'... or whoever she is... seemed to bask under the rumpled pilot's 'leering gaze' as hoped, rather than take it for the visual search that it was. What -was- that item that he'd seen at her waiste? If it was a blaster, it certainly was oddly shaped. These thoughts and others rummage about in Taras's head while he first waits for the 'tender to acknowledge his presence, then for the more than robust server to give him his drinks and stiff him at least two creds of change. The thought of disputing this doesn't even occur to Dev as he quietly brings the drinks back to the table, still trying decide how he feels about the mysterious companion they've acquired. Morganna enters the tavern from off the street. Morganna has arrived. Stalh enters the tavern from off the street. Stalh has arrived. The smokey haze of the bar clears a little as the door opens and two figures enter. One of them has a glowing blue eye that is muffled and dulled by the smokey haze, her companion is dressed in black. The pair seem delightfully ominous and serious looking. When Morganna enters, she glances around, studying the tables for someone she just might know, after all, she was looking for someone before she ran into ehr companion, "So.. what can I get for you.. A Blaster?" her eyes lock on a table with a blonde human ansd a rodian, then they drift to adarkened booth, "Or something else?" The casually indifferent way with which 'Andris Vorlaan' glances out at his surroundings isn't entirely unfeigned; this man, after all, did best over a dozen bounty hunters on this moon back in the days when he lived here, and there _is_ a blaster hidden under that fine velvet cloak, the only element of his attire with which he is not at all uncomfortable. Still, though, there is enough of a guileless musing in his expression to give credence to the idea that he is giving his redheaded companion's advice due consideration, and as he settles gracefully into the seat beside her, he murmurs meaningfully, "As wise as you are charming, and possessed of a... discreet appreciation for finery. You grow more alluring by the minute... Arika." "Indeed sir..?" Comes 'Arika's voice, as her gaze flits over to the gentleman sliding into the booth next to her. Dark, emerald orbs narrow downward, as she draws the corners of her lips up into a sensual smile. One hand slides upwards, running through long, silken locks of spun red-gold. "I should think, you are becoming even more charming by the minute, while I might seem terribly boring." The words are off her lips as easily as she breaths, though her eyes begin to roam past Andris, sweeping towards the entrance, where the tell-tale humm of an electronic monitoring device introduces the comings and goings of all that enter or leave. As her jaw sets, lips drawing into a clamped line, her eyes attempt to view through the thick, dark haze of the bar, though the shadows and clinging, thick smoke make it nearly impossible for her to gain any true identity.. Her black clad companion is none other than Stalh, his leather trenchcoat masking most of his body like his cold, expressionless face masks his thoughts and desires for this evening. He continues to say nothing, but rather lets his eyes scan the inhabitants of the establishment - noting nothing in particular, but studying all in the same. "Just a water will do fine, Morganna. I have no need for weapons. Not any more." He moves off, his mind still locked on thoughts of the past, his peculiar behaviour still evident in his mannerisms and ever-present toneless voice. This isn't the Stalh of old. It couldn't be, could it? The buzz-hum of the door attacts the eyes of more than one patron of the dive. It's a quick, selective glance from the dark-skinned Dev Taras... quick enough to return quickly to the charming female companion that seems to be taken with his dapper partner, and long enough to make certain that the haze and smoke and shadows are too much at this point to really tell who they are. As she drifts in the direction of the bar, morganna raises her eyebrows and passes Stalh an almost shocked look, partly quizzical, "A Blaster's a type of drink, you know those green ones I used to drink all of the time?" Morganna oofs and growls as she's jostled by a large non human. She clenches her fists, but doesn't snap, no, her violent side has been sated for now, "Are you feelin' okay? you seem a little colder than usual.. You haven't made fun of me, or anythin' else.." With the ales brought to them by their companion, 'Vorlaan' spares a hand to take up one to offer out to 'Arika', apparently oblivious to anyone who might be coming or going... apparently. With his other hand, he takes up his own glass, lifting it up slightly in a toast. His murmur barely carries away from the side booth which he and the redheaded woman and the dark-skinned man have claimed: "To business, then... and what might come after." Morganna's growling voice flutters into Stalh's ears but it is a long time before he even registers that someone has spoken to him. "Hmm? What? Oh." It is all he says as he looks to stare at the bar, his green-black orbs of scintillating colour dilating among the haze fueled atmosphere in this room. For just the briefest of moments, his eyes are blank, void of all things, as if he had lost all train of thought and was lost for words or reasoning. Sighing with interminable annoyance, he sits himself at the far end of the bar - by chance it makes him closer to the trio of partons: the red-head, the dark-skinned and the other. "Just a water." he repeats to Morganna, though his voice is such a whisper that it would be all but a rustling in the wind that echoes from outside. Collecting the glass with a slight twist of her wrist, Arika's hand wraps around the glass, lifting it upwards in the 'toast', to idly *clink* it against Vorlaan's. "To business then.. " She states, quietly.. even as she does, her eyes continue to sweep over the individuals of the bar. Those that gaze towards anyone new with fascination and predatory anticipation, and those that remain quiet, trying to blend into the shadows themselves, far and away from everyone. Piercing green gems drift towards Morganna, narrowing slightly on her, then the figure beside her. (Hard to miss the familiar blue glint..) After the initial sweep of her eyes, Jade's gaze finally rests back on the 'captain'. "So, gentlemen, after you finish your .. business .. here, what plans do you have .. afterwards?" Like, you know, spill you're going to be in close quarters with her arch enemy or something? Where once she was almost happy to see her old rival, she is now almost concerned at his appearance, his mannerisms and his really not beint there. morganna waves a hand in front of Stalh's face, "Cripes.. for someone that tried their damdest ta kill me whenw e were rival diplomats, yer awfully zoned out.." As Morganna turns her head towards the bar, she catches something out of the corner of her eye, and her gaze locks with Jade's as she looks her way, "Bingo.." Morganna says out loud, unintentionally, "Um.. so.. water/" she asks Stalh, her tone is almost innocent, but she could just be trying to test his patience. "As for me, I intend on going back to... shipping," Dev says, adding just the right hitch in his voice to suggest other, more interesting activities. The two new arrivals slip out of his direct sight as they move to the bar, placing themselves on his back side. Well, it's probably for the best. Suspicious as he is, he'd probably come to the wrong conclusions should he recognize Morganna once more, coincidentally appearing in the bar that he and Andris have chose. Probably. Grathix enters the tavern from off the street. Grathix has arrived. A solitary clink of glasses coming together in a celebratory jingle draws Stalh from in inadvertant reverie. Turning towards the sound he peers into the darkness of the booth, muttering to his constant rival in the process. "Yes, Cyclops. Water." Even though his voice contains his derogatory remark, his voice has now changed into being one of politeness - not the gutteral snap that once would have spewed forth from this being in the past. A single lock of red hair, falling down from the shadows of the booth causes Stalh to stop dead and cold. Instinctively his hand drops to his side as he stands slowly. Stalh embraced paranoia like others would a lover - his eyes permanently narrowed into slits from years of suspicion about everything - but something about this single lock of hair ignites a spark in his head, one that causes him to move towards the table itself. He says nothing still, but focuses on the lock of hair, not the person, not anyone else... just that infernal lock of hair. Morganna raises her eyebrow and snorts, "Cyclops.. that's gettin' a little old.. don't you have any new material?" She is just about to order the drinks when Stalh rises and stares at the golden lock, "Aw hell, what is it with you men and redheads, well fark me.. get yer own farkin' water.." she snorts and raises a hand, "One ale please.." She tosses her credits into the bar and watches Stalh, and the table of people, grumbling, "I have red hair..." When her drink arrives, Morganna raises her glass to her lips and takes a long sip, observing with the warm gaze of a treptilian predator. "If our quest proves fruitful," Vorlaan is saying as Stalh approaches their table, "I hope to turn my ship towards a few new profitable ventures I have in mind." He takes down his ale in elegant sips, the motions of a gentleman, trusting that Captain Taras acquired him something that passes as closely for palatable as one is liable to get on Nar Shaddaa. "But first we must acquire the transponder." As the doors to the inn swing open, an individual whose attire clearly puts him out of place in this envirinment steps in. And though he may appear out of place, carrying no visible weaponry whatsoever, he walks with a confidence that can only denote that he does indeed fear nothing present here. No, this is not the flambouyant stride of one who has proven himself. Far from it. Grathix' walks is of one who has nothing to prove and nothing to gain from doing so. Calmly and surely, Grathix makes his way towards the nearest edge of the bar. There, he waves the Keep off as he is apporached to place an order. As has become his custom as of late, Grathix mereley sits at the edge of the bar and listens, not to anything or anyone in particular. He simply sits and listens to the bustle of the evening's crowd. If he's looking for anyone or anything, he'll know it when the time comes. Considering Jade's gaze is resting on Dev, who's back is to the two, emerald orbs alight upon the figure in black, while her ears might take in the conversation around her, filing the information down, her gaze remains on the person moving towards the table. Piercing through the thick haze, her gaze attempts to gain an identity to the figure's form or face. Not finding that, her lips draw into a tighter line, as she shifts in the booth, nodding absently to the two gentlemen that surround her on both sides. Perhaps it's a little bit of that predator instincts in her, that which kept her alive through the years, maybe it's a small scream from the very universe itself, or maybe, just paranoia in general, whatever the case, Arika shifts her hands downward, lowering to the curve of her thigh, where a slight *clink* of metal on wood /might/ be heard.. along with a quiet *snap* of a metal clip being undone. As if he wasn't tense enough, the ever-so-slight sound of something going -click-, complimented with that tingle down his back that usually denotes someone approaching from behind, Dev casts a glance toward his partner as his left hand moves to his drink, his right hand moves under the table, toward the weapon strapped at his side. The tension in the bar steps up a notch. No where else other than bars like this will you find a group of total strangers so keenly in tune with each other's feelings. Even though the booth is but a few paces away, to Stalh it might have been a great divide. With each measured step he takes his mind races back into the depths of the past, back to where the memory of the golden red locks were dormant and where the girl with those unforgettable flames herself lie dead. She had to be dead, he was sure of it. There were only two perfect men, he was once told - one dead, the other unborn. But Stalh, if anything was close to being a perfect killer, or he once was. He had killed her, didn't he? Seen the scorching, still smoking hole shuddering from her neck... hadn't he? Fears of failing course through his mind with the velocity of a Hoth snowstorm; the thought of failure itself causing the man to pause slightly. If he didn't move towards her, he would never know that she was alive: neither would they. But he had to.. he had to finish the job, if it was left undone. Taking the final step towards the table, he peers into the darkness with all his concentration trying to Identify the woman, his hand slipping under his coat. Time seems to freeze. One glance to 'Taras'. A second to 'Arika'. And with that, with deceptive calm, the set of his rugged features still casually guileless, the man currently calling himself 'Andris Vorlaan' turns around to face the new arrival, his own body between him and the redhead at his side. "May I help you, sir?" he inquires mildly. A huge grin crosses Morganna's face as she observe's the tense actions around the table. Morganna downs her drink in one gulp and shudders, shaking the alcohol into her system, yes.. yes.. this should be fun. Thoughts about nwhether or not she should tell Stalh of Jade's abilities race through her ming, but she decides , "Nah..." Her calloussd hands rub together, this ought to be interesting. The predator/scavenger watches the action unfold, and doesn;'t yet notice Grathix through the haze. Grathix sits at the bar. But he is far from being idle. He sits attentively. And although his eyes do not meet with anyone, nor do they seek anything out, one would surmise simply by observing him that he is indeed seeing something, something that interests him very much. Suddenly, without preamble, Grathix stops the Keep. "A fresh deck of cards," is all Grathix says clearly and succinctly to the Keep. But the words are far from sounding as a simple request. They border pretty close to being orders. Seeing the Keeps hesitation, Grathix places a stack of credits before him and says nothing more. The Keep takes the credits in understanding and retires to retrieve the desired deck of cards. Yes, like a frozen moment in time, perhaps even the galaxy itself stands completely still, as dark, green gems lift upwards to stare into the figure that takes those final steps towards the table. Stuck in the middle of two men, a large table in front of her, no room to move.. almost as though she's trapped in her own cage, the woman pretending to be 'Arika', offers a cold, unrelenting scowl to the figure that approaches. The question is, should she attempt to rescue the two men she's pretending to 'flirt' with? Believing him after /them/, not /her/.. (Even though every fiber in her begins to whisper through her mind of danger.. something isn't /right/.) Or should she leave things alone... Of course, self preservation always stands in the way of /that/ goal, for as Vorlaan speaks, Jade's face draws into an expression of great concentration. It starts small .. the free hand still wrapped around her glass of ale tightens considerably, the knuckles turning white from the force she places around the container.. Pools of sweat begin to form over her forehead, sliding slowly down her cheeks... In that frozen instant of time, Dev Taras can only make out the darker shadow across the table that is the form of the man behind him. Without turning around to face whoever this might be... Andris seems to be taking care of that... he instead looks across towards the crimson-haired woman, gauging from her expression and mannerisms that whatever it is that's behind him, it's something dangerous enough to set the young woman off. The hand under the table gripping the butt of his heavy, showy blaster tenses, drawing the weapon out of its sheath slightly. His other hand begins bringing his glass of ale toward his mouth, in an effort to hide a growing scowl. This is what he expected to run into at least once during this visit to the villainous moon... he just didn't expect it so soon. Like in the spaceport that is off the near distance, Stalh does not sweat, even though the heavy leather trenchcoat covers him and all that he contains like a glove. A mumur in his ear, that of one of the flamed-haired woman's companions, concerns Stalh not. So intently focused is he on this apparently walking corpse before him that nothing and no one will penetrate his consciousness. So bereft of any reasoning is he in this moment of fraught resolve that he has not heard the unclipping of the metal object, or considered the life threatening position he has placed himself in, especially turning his back on strangers in a haven for scum and villiany like Nar Shadda. A new entry into the establishment throws light onto the table before Stalh - the tables inhabitants bearing their faces before the former diplomat for a briefest of moments. Before he can concentrate on the woman's face, the door's close and she is once again doused in shadow - unfortunately for Stalh, his hand has already gripped his weapon and tightened instinctively. He has not raised the weapon, but will the others before him be able to stop themselves from thinking otherwise? Something hits Morganna like a jolt of lightning, a familiar crackle tingles through her nody and she shivers, eyes fixed on Jade for a long moment.. frozen in time, "Ooh yeah.. Come on.. use the power, Jade...." she whispers to herself shortly before her attention is drawn, partially, to a familiar voice asking for a deck of Cards. Morganna turns to face Grathix and she grins, "Can you feel it? Can you feel the electricity in the air?" Morganna, in her giddyness, has forgotten that most people can't feel it, and as a result, many beings near her give her a look as though she's bonkers.. Powers? Electricity? Playing off of her curiosity, the hyperactive predator turns back to Stalh, jade and friends, her eye flashes as Stalh reaches for his weapon, "Oh.. this is going to farkin' rock, Grathix.. for once I'm not at the wrong end of the blaster!" Stalh A human male occupies your line of vision. Although he is approximately 185 or 6ft in statute, he does not appear overly big. His body appears to be well toned but his real physique is unknown due to the clothes that he is wearing. The human male is wearing a black leather trenchcoat, trailing from the high collar that finishes just below his chin to his mid calf. The coat looks impressively polished, the obsidian buttons which adorn it, gleam menacingly especially as they are done up from his knees to collar. The pants, like the trenchcoat are also the colour of barren space. There appears no stain or discolour to the clothing that is a very close fit but not tight. Finishing just below his knees is a pair of highly polished black leather combat boots into which the pants are tucked. Only remotely matching the shinyness of the boots are the man's black leather gloves. These are immaculately polished and are very tight fitting, however they do look comfortable. The man's face however is a stark contrast to the militeristic style clothing. His skin is a nordic tan that glows in the light. Coupled with this tan is his head of dark brown hair. As you look to his face you notice that his eyes are captivating. They are the darkest green possibly imagined - almost black.Hauntingly they stare, the eyes appear unnatural - like a shield blocking off prying eyes to his soul - almost demonical. -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Protective Vest => IR-5 Blaster Pistol => ST-II/C Blaster Carbine -=-=-=-=-=-=<>=-=-=-=-=-=- => Multi-Descer SS As his fresh deck of cards is brought to him, Grathix takes it into his hands, cuts the deck in half, and begins shuffling them slowly. This motion he repeats again, albeit faster than the first. Once complete, he once again re-initiates the motions of shuffling. And once again, he performs this acion faster and with more ease than the previous. If he hears Morganna's words, he makes no motion to acknowledge them. Once more he shuffles the deck, with asotunding ease that comes only with countless hours of pracice. Instead of commenting, Grathix opts to instead begin laying the cards out upon the counter, one card at a time into 3 stacks with no apparent order. "I said," repeats Vorlaan, rather louder and more firmly, black eyebrows going up over those emerald eyes, "may I help you, sir?" He doesn't rise -- such a gesture might be unnecessarily foolhardy on the Smugglers' Moon -- but he does shift his stance in his seat, placing himself rather more squarely between the man standing before their table and the redhead sitting beside him. Something of the foppish air has slipped out of his eyes, for all that his voice is still perfectly mannerly. When you're trapped in a corner, and can't move, plus do not wish to .. expose yourself, or certain.. abilities one might have.. you tend to do what you can. Thus, even as Jade's gaze rest on the figure's face, noting the far-off look in his eyes.. Drugged, or insane, she isn't certain, but she has little desire to have someone ruin the nice little situation she's done her best to get into.. (Course, all in the name of revenge, naturally.) As Vorlaan moves to sit in front of her more, it simply offers Jade the chance to concentrate further. (Hit Vorlaan first, instead of her, is always good..) Is it so hard to use a power that she was once able to control? Why is it so difficult to clear ones mind and let something as old as time itself flow through her? She has no answer for this, she can only focus her complete attention on one object. It never use to be this difficult.. The beads of sweat over Jade's brows increases, her breathing moving from irratic, to an even, calm state. Her eyes close but briefly, though during that moment, again, a single beat in time, the haze of the room and dark, looming shadows make it /somewhat/ difficult to view.. though a glass of ale lifts from a near-by table, suddenly careening towards Stalh with a nice amount of 'force' to it. The glass strikes Stalh with a dull thud, though it does not shatter until it strikes the warm, crusty floor. Only now does Stalh feel warm. A crimson liquid flows slowly down from his head, his eyes closed to ride out the ebb of pain that washes over him like a Tsunami. Staining his head like the setting sun stains a planet with it's reddish rays, the blood soon trickles down to the man's shoulder. Tap, tap, tapping of each single droplet caressing his trenchcoat like a soft kiss. All he does is but smile as his eyes open, his hand released from his weapon but still by his side. The smile grows, both in toothiness and insincerity as he wipes the liquor from his clothes. "Forgive me," he says finally. "I thought you were someone else." Though there is nothing funny about this scene, the man continues to smile - perhaps he has lost the plot after all. But no, to himself the spilt drink was also a memory from by-gone days. A long time ago an impetiuous young pilot by the name of Tracer had caused a drink to be spilt on his tunic. And how he made Tracer a large part of his life because of that. Whoever this flamed red woman be, she too would now become a large part. An obsession. Tracer was alive because she served a purpose. The woman before him serves one not. Bowing gracefully, he turns on his feels and glides back out the doors, stopping to glance at his companion and shaking his head. "Death. If it's not fun, what do you have?" Leaving it at that he disappears back into the smoke and refuse of Nar Shadda. Surprised by the sudden movement and sound of the liquor, Dev Taras very nearly leaps from his chair. He lurches to one side, but stops in his motion when he notices very little else in reaction. It's then that he finally turns in his chair to look at the odd fellow, his brow furrowed in obvious puzzlement. As his gaze follows the man's movements, his hand still on his blaster, his gaze flickers toward the bar, taking notice of the one-eyed woman and the fellow with the cards. As quickly as he turned in his chair, he turns back, dropping his head slightly as he wonders what the heck happened to his luck. The flying glass is not lost on Morganna, no! Her eyes dart to the glass as it flies toewards Stalh and widens her eye as it strikes his skull. Morganna pauses, waiting for some form of attack but is sorely disappointed by Stalh's departure. She snorts and narrows her eye, "And he calls me Crazy?" Like a sall child, morganna shrugs the scowl away and literally bounces towards the table with Jade, Vorlaan and Dev. A bouncing, hyper, childlike predator is almost as frigthening as the spooky, zombielike stalh, but in a different way. Jade's.. actions.. have had an unusl effect on morganna, they have forced her force fearing brooding side to take a back seat to the personalty within morganna that is clearly a child. She leaps in front of the table and landas with a clomp. "Do it again!" Morganna says, with a grin. "Man, that was awesome.. and you said you couldn't do anything any more!" Attentive to his surroundings, Morganna's words and the sounds of her actions do not go unoticed by Grathix. In one swift motion, he piles up the cards upon the counter into one deck. Holding them firmly in his hands, Grathix turns suddenly to finally view one of the many scenes unfolding within the confines of the Inn this evening. But of all these scenes, only one holds any onterest to him. And that's the scene Morganna is creating. Once again, she jumps into the middle of something without taking into account the full measure of her actions. He rises from the bar and stands, observing now the participants of the would-be drama, observing their action just a little bit more, before deciding whether to step into it or not. Stalh heads back out into the Corellian Sector. Stalh has left. Practically every head in the bar has turned to witness the scene around the table occupied by the redheaded woman, the dark-skinned 'captain', and the cloak-wearing 'dandy'. Only one, however, belongs to the being who'd been about to wrap a big muscular paw around the drink that just slammed Stalh in the head. Bristling with irritation, the Kasa Horansi, a massively built creature standing well over two meters in height, rises up out of his seat and stalks in the table's direction, paying absolutely no mind to the man who's retreated from the scene. "You," he rumbles wrathfully in Jade's direction. "_You_ caused my drink to do that?!" 'Andris Vorlaan' had been about to relax, at least fractionally, at the departure of the oddly blank-eyed man he'd just confronted. However, two-plus meters of cranky Horansi are quite the way to distract his attention, and the expression that momentarily flashes across his face can be easily translated by anybody who can read humanoid features: _ohhhh shit_. Then it vanishes into an attempt at an ingratiating smile, as he blurts out to the big feline, "I beg your pardon? What was that about a drink?" Luck? It just went *ka-boom*, for as Jade slumps into the confines of the booth, a soft breath escaping in a rush, the beads of liquid slowly begin to fade, leaving but the streaks of their passing over her face as reminders to the effort it took to accomplish that feat. Before she gets the chance to say anything, watching with a weary glance as the figure moves off, the redhead's attention is quickly diverted to the scarred woman that moves swiftly towards the table. The look of exhaustion is quickly covered, leaving only a thin line over her lips, and narrowed emerald eyes which focus completely onto Morganna. Internally, she allows herself a moment's wince, she had little desire to do that.. it was dangerous, stupid, foolish, like an amateur.. something Mara prides herself on /not/ being.. but in truth, just managed to do.. (and it doesn't help matters that Morganna just gave her away, either..) About to respond to Morganna first, Jade's mouth parts, though her attention is soon directed at the enormous figure of the Horansi. With a quirked up brow, her voice offers little hint into her true feelings, masked with a vacant tone she used as a 'bauble' in the Emperor's collection, the redhead simply states.. "I don't know what either of you are talking about.." The scarred woman raises her eyebrow and leans against the table, heavily. Her mouth opens to say something to the retreating Jade, but as quickly as the child like personality appeared, it disappears, morganna almost convulses as her normal self takes hold, triggered by the familiar rumbling of the Horansi. Morganna spins around on her heels and snarls at the feline, hissing something in the feline's tongue. What she is saying roughly translates to, "What's the matter, little kitten lost his drink?" Of course, as Morganna is saying this, she grabs the back of a chair.. just in case she needs to yank it up in defense. The bigger they are, the bigger cowards they can be. Sometimes. At least, that's the theory Taras is banking as he turns his attention fully on this large, new, imposing threat. The movement a moment ago he'd about to do, he completes, spinning quickly out of his seat and bringing the blaster to bear on the large cat-thing. A few words leave his mouth smoothly, to the tune of, "Let's just all calm-" before the Horansi moves like a coiled spring. One large paw swipes through the air, knocking Dev's blaster out of his hand to skitter along the floor while another hand slams into the dark man's chest, shoving him violently back to the floor and winding the fellow. It's not until the rumpled space captain is sliding on his back in a similar manner to his gun that the Horansi turns an angry eye toward the hissing young woman. The emergence of the Kasa Horansi is all the prompting Grathix needs. With gracefull, long strides, Grathix makes his way towards the table. As he does so, he takes in the appearance of those gathered about, filing their appearance for future reference. But at the moment, his major concern is Morganna, who apparently has no idea where she's at or what she's stepped into. Stepping up towards the booth, almost as if he owned the place, Grathix firmly grabs hold of Morganna's shoulder with one arm and literally drags her towards him. "A word with you," he says as he drags her slightly away, paying no heed to those gathered about. He pulls her so that he stands between her and everyone else. He might still be wearing velvet and a cape, but the moment Taras is struck, all traces of the 'dandy' vanish instantly from the bearing of 'Andris Vorlaan'. His right hand flashes in under the cape -- and out comes his blaster, a heartbeat later. But, legendary as this man's shooting speed is, he's slowed down a fraction by the unfamiliar location of his holster, not to mention his position in the booth and the clothes he's currently stuck wearing. The Horansi has time to whip around, and, with a roar, the big bulky creature grabs Vorlaan by the front of his expensive shirt, lifts him bodily out of his seat, and hurls him five feet into the nearest table. The patrons who'd been sitting there have just enough time to scatter before his body comes in for a landing. Ever get the feeling it's gone from bad, to worse, for as Jade's gaze flickers from one individual to the next, she still notes .. she's *stuck in the middle of a table*. Oh how she desparately desires the ability to influence and cloud a mind, for a Horansi's small mind would be so easy to twist to her will. Her gaze watches without emotion as first Dev, then Andris are tossed onto their back, leaving just her.. *stuck in the middle of the table*. One hand rests on the curve of her thigh, hidden by the shadows of the table. The other idly taps along the smooth surface, as a calmed state over comes her, eyes of green shift ever so neutrally up to regard the menacing creature with a quiet stare. "Okay, you've shown you're a rough and tumble Horansi, you want me.. come and get me, just be warned, if I was able to toss a drink onto one person, whats to say I can't turn you into bits of singed hair?" Her tone carries no emotion, beyond a dangerous under current, which echoes in her stare. Hatred towards the fluffball bubbles through Morganna. Just before Grathix Yanks her, Morganna raises the chair to clobber the feline over the head with it, unfortunately Grathix's sudden, and unexpected, move causes Morganna to accidentally slam the chair over Dev's head. Morganna drops the splintered chair and glares at Grathix, squirming a little, "hey! Lemme go!" she growls, "I wanna hurt the cat! I need a new Rug!" Morganna is coiled like a spring, she just wants to fight. She shivers as Jade angers, but Morganna doesn't pay it any mind as she tries to break free from the iron grip of her red eyed companion. He may get knocked down... but this particular fellow in the rumpled clothes gets right back up again, with the help of a nearby vacant chair. Groggy and sucking air in that gulpy way one does when trying to get one's breath back from being winded, Dev completely misses whatever exchange just happened between 'Arika' and this towering monster of fur and claws. He shakes his head, sets his gaze on the Horansi, and brings his fists up in a fighting stance. Then the lights go dim as an unidentified flying chair gets him in the head. Where -did- his luck go, anyway? Grathix edges himself and Morganna away from the commotion. This is not his fight and it sure as hell is not Morgana's fight, regardless of what she may think. He listens as the female of the unknown party speaks to the Kasa Horansi. Either she knows little of the Horansi culture or she is trying to stall for time. Regardless, it is evident that an angry Horansi is an unreasoning Horansi. Still her gloating as to what she apparently claims to have done does bare keeping in mind. But Morganna's idiotic desire to enthrall herself in some form of combat is his focus here. "Step away," he orders her, even as he forcefully pushes her away from the commotion towards the exit. He will not carry her out; he will not drag her out. She will walk out on her own with him, one way or another. Between Morganna's obvious desire to have her smaller body slashed into bleeding ribbons by his claws and Jade's impetuous bluff, the Kasa snarls out a pungent oath in his own language. Morganna is the easier target -- but only until Grathix grabs her and starts hauling her out of the line of fire. With that, the felinoid's rage refocuses on the latter woman, and he lunges forward, bent on pulling the same maneuver on her that he'd just done to her allegedly foppish companion -- i.e., picking her up and pitching her into a suitably unyielding piece of furniture. The allegedly foppish companion, however, is having his own problems. Momentarily dazed by the slam of his body into the table, which in turn tips over under him, 'Vorlaan' is left at the mercy of a gleefully chittering little alien who decides this is a perfect time to try to pick this sumptuously clad human's pockets. Black hair now rumpled -- and, not surprisingly, making him look significantly more like his usual self -- the human snaps out of his daze and roughly shoves the creature away, only to have its apparent big brother dive angrily at him. And where, in the name of all that's holy, is his blaster?! The scarred woman growls as she is dragged, and then pushed. Although she is twitching for a fight, Morganna's eyes lok with Grathix's and she snarls something incoherent. Her eyes then flicker to the sscene and the dull, animalistic shadow in her eyes is suddenly brightened by a thought. Morganna laughs evilly, almost with a hint of insanity, and her eye flashes. The Cat.. will do the work for her! it will kill them.. The predator figures jade can take care of herself, and she snorts, clenching her fist, "Dammit.." her eyes flick between fight, and grathix.. who is the greater threat? Morganna scowls and pushes past Grathix, literally! She plants a hand on his chest and shoves him, "You win this time, farkin' hell.. but I still want some blood.." Morganna heads to the door. (repose for G) All professional, and all deadly, the only thing in Jade's eyes right now, is the big, angry cat. Did she purposely enrage him more? It wasn't exactly like she was going to get through to him with words.. As though expecting the lunge, anticipating the creature's approach, Jade's just a few seconds a head of him. Her body is in fluid and swift motion, one moment seated as though nothing is going to effect her.. the next, her form makes like rubber, slipping under the table, moving in a slide, in the veign hope.. or perhaps, attempt, that the in the creatures rage, he'll not have the reaction time to stop his lunge and impact on the table. Even as Jade glides effortlessly under and back up, spinning to face her opponent, no matter what happens, her right hand contains a small, lethal weapon, a vibro-blade held expertly between her fingers. (Lightsaber? In this joint? Jade'll pass, thank you very much.) When the room stops spinning enough for Dev to make out three ghosted images instead of five, he begins crawling toward a nearby table, hoping to use it to help him regain his feet once more. Momentarily, he wonders how it was that he wound up on the floor again, but dismisses the thought as he flops a shaky hand onto the upper surface of the table. As he starts to pull himself up, his hand slips a little, and someone's still mostly full glass of wine spills off the table, emptying the glasses contents primarily in Dev's face. He sputters and blinks a bit, then finishes rising to his feet. "Thank you," he says to a rather startled bystander, sitting there watching the goings on. Dev then turns back toward the Horansi, wondering where his blaster is, and what happened to the man who's back he was supposed to be watching. Without even giving the commotion at his back a second though, Grathix proceeds towards the exit behind Morganna. He's done his good deed for the day, something he too will have to deal with on his own time. Let them fight, let the greater warrior prove himself the victor. That is, after all, the unwritten rule to Nar Shadda, a rule that has come to appeal to him. As he walks, he remembers the card deck still in one of his hands. With one hand, he flicks threw the deck and stops. Manipulating the card deck with one hand, he places the card where he stopped at the bottom of the deck. As he sees Morganna step out of the door, he looks to see which card he stopped at. He pauses at the door momentarily to consider the card at the bottom of the deck. The Jedi. An omen perhaps? Maybe, if Grathix was the type to believe in omens. Without giving the card any other thought, he walks out of the Inn with just as much confidence as he walked in. Morganna heads back out into the Corellian Sector. Morganna has left. Grathix heads back out into the Corellian Sector. Grathix has left. The Horansi does, in fact, slam into the table as Mara Jade upends it into his path -- and for a few precious seconds, he is prevented from reaching the redheaded woman and tearing her limb from limb. He staggers back a step, bellowing a full-throated battle cry now, and he stoops to try to... disturbingly... pick up the entire table. Very likely with the intent to smash it all over the redhead. Dev's companion isn't far away -- but he's lost the cape, revealing the shoulder holster he'd put on underneath it. His fine shirt's been pulled partway from his elegant slacks, and he is in the middle of delivering a roundhouse punch to the scaly jaw of the alien who'd just jumped him. The other being goes sprawling into the floor -- and as it lies there, blinking its black eyes dazedly, something suddenly seems to click in its woozy brain. It chitters out something agitated sounding, a sentence mostly incomprehensible except for the final word: "SOLO!" Well, so much for /this/ nice little edge of business, even as the creature lifts the table upwards to slam into the red-head, she still is.. amazingly and somehow, two steps ahead of the creature. As though the force itself flows through her veigns, with reactions as quick and deadly as she was trained, Jade's hand flickers outwards, the blade leaping from her fist, flying towards the Horansi's arm with enough force to slash through even the toughest hide.. if it hits. Though even at the flick of her wrist with the toss, the redhead is in motion, leaping backwards.. given the fact there is hardly any room between tables, she manages to only succeed in going a little ways before her back is unceremoniously interrupted by a chair. One moment, Mara's form is in perfect flight, the flick of a wrist, and backward leap.. the next, she's tumbling into a chair, landing with a silent *oof*, and sore *ahem* behind. After doing his impression of a Tarcasian Shuttle ball, then getting cracked on the head with an instrument best suited for one's posterious, 'Dev Taras' is nowhere close to graceful. Nonetheless, his reaction to his partner's true identity getting proclaimed through the room is unhampered by any blows he may have taken. It's clear... there will be no business dealings here this eve, and there certainly isn't anything to gain from continuing this brawl with the Horansi. In a move that unceremoniously combines bravado with almost total lack of motor control, 'Dev' hurtles himself toward his partner in the most direct route available to him: through the creature. He trips, he stumbles, he catches himself on the Horansi's side, rolling around back to back with the critter, then manages to stumble a little further toward 'Andris'. Unwittingly, his action causes the Horansi's grip on the table to slip on one side slightly... enough that the table itself drops onto the furball's head with a thump. Between the strike of Mara's knife to his muscular, befurred limb, Calrissian's slamming into him, and the table abruptly coming down on his own skull, the Horansi's roar trickles off into a startled little choking sound. He begins to sway... and then he goes down. Hard. The table comes down hard over him a fraction later. And in the meantime... The word 'Solo' shoots around the room like wildfire, and in its wake, several curses and startled shouts erupt in four different alien languages. For a brief instant, the Corellian General freezes, stricken, and then he plasters on an enormous lopsided grin. His gaze sweeps around the room, meeting several increasingly murderous regards, both human and alien -- including that of the bartender. "Um... hi!" he pipes brightly. "How've you all been, guys?" Rising in a smooth and quick motion, Jade's hand darts towards the inside of her cloak. "I don't suppose.." She begins, a circular cylinder darting to life in her hands. "Either of you would like to get out of here?" As she turns to face those that might offer murderous or down right vicious glances towards Han and company, a crimson hue lights up the shadowy bar. A quiet, and soft *hummmmmming* sound erupts soon after, as the saber burns ever so brilliantly in the hazy atmosphere. It seems to just hang in mid-air, held in the hands of a redhead who really didn't want to show anyone this, and yet.. considering the circumstances, figured it's one of the only things that might actually slow a few of these people down. (Not to mention focus on her, rather than Solo and company.) Her form begins to move, side stepping, left over right, until she's close to the two scoundrels. Her face a mask, though the burning rage and fire building up inside of her seems to come across regardless of her attempt at being .. emotionless. A lot of surprised faces turn toward 'Arika' as her laser-sword lights the room. Dev/Lando's is one of them. His surprise hinders him only a moment, though, before the seriousness of the situation slams home. Most of the faces are looking toward the woman with the lightsaber... but still quite a few are looking towards the now revealed Han, and himself. "Yeah, let's move." he says quickly, then just as quickly, begins shuffling towards the door with his companions. All in a night's work on Nar Shaddaa... If there is anything on the Smugglers' Moon that could prevent the patrons of this establishment from closing in on the rumpled form of Han Solo, the igniting of a lightsaber in the hand of the dangerous-looking redhead is it. The Corellian seizes the chance given him by the distraction of the glowing blade and retrieves his own blaster -- and keeps that big nervous grin all the way out as he and Mara scurry out the door in Lando's wake. "Bye!" he chirps as guilelessly as he can manage. And, as he makes his escape, he thinks with a rush of adrenaline and something like pleasure, _Nar Shaddaa hasn't changed a bit!_ [To be continued...]