You Can't Spell Slaughter...

[Emic Lai]

Nar Shaddaa, where all the villains of the universe and beyond seem to congregate. The ignorant masses spend their credits in mass and the underground crawls with insects in the form of men.

It's all irrelevant, she thought, puffing on a cigarra, while the rest of the tavern she sat in used their death sticks and various other unhealthy substances. This was supposed to be a high-class establishment, and she was dressed for it. A slim black dress and hat with a brim wide enough to shield her shoulders from the sun draped over her.

She pondered what it would take to end the galaxy; to snuff out all life in this fleeting cluster of stars where the redundant species called home.

Things have been boring since her employer, the Sith she knew better than anyone, disappeared. It was time for Emic Lai to get back in the game.

[Kell Sangros]

Warvanus rarely traveled outside of Sith space unless he was purging the galaxy of his enemies. It was one of those rare times he was not clad in his usual battle armor, he wore basic pants, black shirt, black boots, with a trenchcoat which concealed his lightsaber. His black hair in a tight ponytail, his blue eyes scanning his surroundings. He also had his Force Mask technique employed so as he could not be detected in the Force , at least for right now.

Nar Shadda was hole, always had been a hole and always would be a hole he thought to himself. Events had changed dramatically for the War-Bringer. Some known within the order, most not. He had decided to come to this place, sometimes there was good fighters who fought most times not. Seeing the pits had been a disappointment yet again, Warvanus entered what looked like a high scale tavern.

As he passed through the doors the air stunk of death and decay, a cursory glance he noticed a few things right off the bat. A lot of patrons using death sticks and other intoxicants disgusted the War-Bringer but then again all these lives were static, compared to someone who walked in the currents of the Force. He slowly approached the bar, noticing a being , a female in a black dress and hat. He got the attention of the bartender and ordered a drink. It had not been a long time since he had Mandalorian wine the stuff was quickly growing on him, and ordered a glass. The baretender poured the glass in front of him , and in return Warvanus left a credit chit for him. Seeing the tip was a huge he left the bottle for the concealed Sith Lord.

He took the glass to his lips, opening himself to the Force, dropping the mask, he had opened up his senses and not sensing any immediate danger or poison in the wine he took a sip. The contents at first was a tough swallow but the more you drank of it the easier it got and the more pronounced the flavor was. Another thing that caught Warvanus’ attention was the currents in the Force swirled and were quite active here, no doubt from all the beings on this world. He would remain open to the Dark Side and see what would develop.

[Neive Undant]

Prazutis' unmarked delta shuttle sat on a landing pad on Nar Shadaa as Prazutis took his leave from the vessel. Within the large crowds of Nar Shadaa, Prazutis found his business: tracking down a Jedi informant who had watched Prazutis' bout with Kenobi on Cerea. Although he didn't mind spectators watching his work, he didn't want any loose ends speaking about Prazutis to the Alliance. He was nameless to them at the moment, just a helmeted face they now knew was their enemy. And as it stood, with his encounter on the burned cruiser with Kenobi, he was sure they already knew his affiliation with the Empire. Yet, that was the limit of their knowledge, and that's what he intended to keep.

Following the hooded figure, Prazutis felt a dark presence wash over the nearby auras around it nearby. Somewhere not far from here, Prazutis thought, there was another user of the dark side. Perhaps a Sith? Prazutis wasn't sure, but as he followed the informant, growing closer to this presence, Prazutis simply moved to engage his target, subtly, and without the attention caused by slaughtering him in front of a crowd.

Prazutis grabbed the man's arm, quickly looking for an alleyway before pulling him aside within a second, throwing him into the path between buildings. He wanted to see just who it was nearby, that gave off a presence just as dark as his own. Allies tended to become known at strange times... perhaps this was one of those times?

[Dastan Imatari]

A young man, clad in dark, durable clothing, a breastplate, gauntlets, and angular-faced full helmet made his way quickly to a tavern in one of the nearby districts. He was partly concealed by the cowl around his neck, covering his shoulders, and a quarter of his figure. A lord of the sith, known for a multitude of tactics, and being a bit of a lone wolf ever since his first master- Darth Vesper disappeared. Raising himself to his heights under the tutelage of both victory and failure. He knew no master ever since, despite following with the Sith Order through it's changes.

Nar Shaddaa....


The ever-present neon hues reflected off of everything here. Made everything wash into blended colors and black shadow from rampant advertisements and signage. Almost made it difficult for his helmet's h.u.d. to outline the beings around him.... Standing in the shadows, pretending to skulk about. Others walked without a care in the streets, carrying cases- extortion payments, no doubt. Others gathered at storefronts to protect property, and others wandered around- looking for a good place to spend their ill-gotten cred.

It was hard to tell which family, house, or gang held this district these days, but Dastan didn't care. Nar Shaddaa and it's politics, he felt, were beneath him. Though- one certain crime family had a good deal going on detonator packs stolen from an ill-guarded imperial shipment. This shipment was to be transferred to Dastan, then handed over to Lord Warvanus, as a good-faith gift. Warvanus was moving up in the ranks of the Order, and Dastan gave credit when credit was due. Allies within the Order were difficult to make, and having not dealt often with the new lord, he figured he'd make an impression.

He marched into the establishment. He wasn't making a scene, and would surely not be the only slightly conspicuous person here. Surely there were armored thugs, mercenaries, and other strange folk about. His eyes scanned around- and he felt a certain sickening chill. Maybe it was the force trying to tell him something- or maybe it was just the feeling he got in the presence of monumental scumbags.

The dark red wedge-shaped visor on his charcoal and black helmet then zeroed in on his contact- The man himself. Warvanus. Though something kept whispering in his ear, fluttering his heart, and pulling his attention elsewhere. Though he couldn't fathom why... But he got a familiar feeling.

Knowing he would be seen, he didn't approach and sit with the other Sith Lord. Not that it would make a difference, being Nar Shaddaa. He took a booth near the entrance, and remained visible.

[Emic Lai]

They always have a look about them. Even when trying to be incognito, Sith Lords are rarely inconspicuous, unless that was their particular talent. She had picked up the signs when she was running with the Sith, and the faint sour taste on her tongue was something she associated with the presence of the dark side, whether she could truly sense the Force or not. She couldn't confirm her suspicions about the newcomer, but it didn't matter. Everyone dies with a slug to the brain.

A waitress approached her with a drink. "From the man in the corner booth." Emic glanced over to the corner to see a well-dressed man wearing a smirk wide across his face. He was truly trying to play it cool. Cute.

She puts her cigarra out in the drink, causing a brief spurt of flame from the alcoholic content in the glass. Then she rose to her feet and sauntered to the corner booth, to the apparent elation of the man who bought her beverage. She leans in gingerly and whispers something to him, her figure between the man and the rest of the bar. When she turned around and sashayed away, the man's face was flat on the table and a dark red fluid was gathering at his feet.

Emic then approached a bar, a few seats down from the dark man. She wordlessly ordered another drink. The bartender awaited payment, but after Emic nodded towards the slumped-over corpse in the corner, he understood, and went about his business.

It is then that she finally addressed the man sitting at the bar.

"I dated a boy once," she started. "A noble from Naboo. Head over heels for me. I didn't just rock his world, I was it."

She pulled another cigarra from under the band of her hat, and lit it slowly before continuing.

"He took me to his family beach house. It was a gorgeous day. I remember the sun bouncing off his dark, wet hair. Every tooth in his sweet smile..."

She took another slow drag. "And the heartbreak in his eyes as I held his head under the water."

The brim of her hat turned upwards as she looked straight forward for the first time since she entered the bar. "He knew I was dangerous. That I was a killer." Emic then glanced over at the cooling body of the man who dared treat her to a drink. "But men always think they're the exception."

"It's much the same with Sith, I hear."

[Kell Sangros]

When the War-Bringer opened himself to the Force two distinct presences bubbled to his awareness. One he recognized the other was vaguely familiar. The first presence he Felt was that of Lord Dastan Imatari. They had a few dealings during the course of Warvanus’ apprenticeship, but he had not seen the one known simply as “The Agent” since his ascention. Which now felt like a long time ago. In fact he had believed the fellow Sith Lord to have been lost or even dead. He was inwardly pleased that this was not the case. The other presence he felt. He had never actually formally met the man but he knew of his reputation and had circumstances been the same as when he last saw him, he would be gunning for him. A one time traitor to the Sith. The Iridonian known now simply as Prazutis. He was familiar with his record from the annals of Sith Intelligence. He had from his knowing left the Sith to join the Alliance to join the Imperials. The Imperials and the Sith were now allies and in turn he was an ally. Thus the dynamic had changed. It was just as well he had thought. The Devotees of the Dark Side needed to band together to snuff out the Light. Another musing for another time. He had only met the man once briefly in opposing sides of battle. How they both had grown stronger in the Force since then. He took another sip from the cup as he watched a man just slump over dead. He felt the life wink out from the Force but really paid it no mind. He would keep himself open to its current’s but his mental shielding was now raised (Force Shield)

He had sensed Lord Imatari enter the bar keeping near the entrance. He smiled inwardly, it had been far too long since that weapons expo that he had arranged. His thoughts were distracted by a voice, addressing him he assumed. He listened to her story and when she was finished he turned his head to face her , he was ready if she were to attempt something, he gave her a look as he sipped his drink. How did she know he was a sith? He carried no sigils signifying his alligence, he could have been a fallen Jedi or one of the various members of the many force cults out there but then he surmised that its because she could sense his power or she was making a gamble. He did not hide his status as a Lord of the Sith. He studied her before he spoke.

“The strong rule the weak” he said ,”That is how the Sith are, they respect strength, some thrive on political machinations, others on information, some like me thrive on the battlefield, covered in the blood of my enemies, furthering the cause of the Dark Side and some thrive on the Arcane” he shrugged. “You will not find weakness among the Sith, not in their military nor within the order of the Sith Lords” he had to admit he liked her story, she appeared by the way she handled herself that she had all the makings of an assassin he could not read her though, did she have the Force? Was she shielding her mind from him? As he was trying to figure her out, he stretched out with the Force (Telepathy) and sent impressoins of greeting and acknowledgement to Dastan, and he wondered two things, the first one being the obvious What brought him to the scum hole of the galaxy? And the one that was dawning on his mind. Did he know this person who had decided to strike up a conversation with the War-Bringer? And if not he wondered what his impressions were.

[Neive Undant]

Prazutis felt the approach of a second dark presence as he walked towards the now downed informant. A presence he was once familiar with, from his days long ago as part of the Sith... the man wasn't as powerful as Tormentous, but held a similar familiarity... Could it have been his old master with the Sith, whom sent him to Arda all that time ago?

Prazutis put out his armor's right hand, the human male flying into his mechanical arm's grasp. The metallic fingers of the prosthetic wrapped around the man's neck, Prazutis finally came up with a name.

Dastan Imatari.

Prazutis bore down his grip, the man grabbing his arm and trying to weasel out of the situation before Prazutis heard a snap, and watched the man's body immediately go limp.

He then tossed the body aside, leaving it within the dark slum of Nar Shadaa to be found only by the street rats of the planet.

Prazutis followed the trail of the dark presences into a nearby bar, and as he entered the building, he immediately noticed the 2 men, along with a female Zabrak...

Prazutis shook his head as he walked to the bar, sitting just a seat away from the three, not saying a word. The two would definitely know his presence, if nothing else about him was noticeable.

[Dastan Imatari]

His eyes widened- a familiar face indeed. Caught himself staring. That was Emic Lai.

Emic. Kriffing. Lai

Like seeing a ghost from his past- his memory flashed back to his time under Darth Vesper. A good example of a Sith. Dastan had served under so many who weren't... They had served the same master. A master that Dastan defied in the end- he was personally responsible for the collapse of a few of the old Sith Circles. He had even personally put the head of the Circle of Purity to the sword. His employer- his master.

....Maybe Vesper was still around- working from the shadows. Pharsalus was still alive- maybe he was a voice in the darkness.. Dastan had killed a few others under Vesper, maybe Pharsalus thought he was next- Pharsalus was someone Dastan kept in... distant contact with. Only confirming the validity of certain sith artifacts or knowledge... Pharsalus had openly defied Dastan's position- claiming him unfit, and unready..

Then it sparked him- Emic must have known he was here. She must have found out about this deal. Crime families weren't always known for keeping their traps shut. Maybe she was here for an attempt at his life.

He then saw another figure- definitely force sensitive [sense force user]... Also familiar. Oh yes- an old Sith, now under the ranks of the Empire. Two familiar faces within the span of a few minutes. This was not coincidence. It simply couldn't be.

Dastan slithered up from his booth. Emic must know he was there. Now she's engaging his contact- Warvanus. She definitely knew. The paranoia that grew from his psyche went a little mad in the instant. He had seen and done many things- too many things to think that he was above acts of vengeance being taken upon him.

But with the presence of Neive- now that. That was too much for coincidence. Maybe it was the Empire who found out about Dastan's weapons dealings, maybe they wanted a piece, and Emic was working with them- to get revenge for something?

How dare she. Who was she? Who was she to think she could get the best of him?

Normally, this man was a glacier- floating about with a volatile substance beneath the icy exterior. . . . His heart began to beat in his throat, and brief paranoia turned into rage. A heat built up his spine, his nostrils flared, his brow lowered, and his lips turned into a snarl. The force flowed around him- [force shield]. His right hand reached out- and called his weapon to his hand. His heart beat again. A single flip of a silver and black shape- and clap into the glove's leather. He exhaled. Dastan shot forward with a dash, toppling a high-top table in his way.

Who was she to step in on his business. Who was she to come for him? Who did she think she was?!

He approached Emic with swift efficiency, gripping his left into a fist- his right hand shot out- pointing the tubular weapon toward Emic- and he activated it. A digitized, electric boom shot forward a blazing red blade- no further than a foot from Emic. The blade was slightly unstable, occasionally crackling and flickering like fire... Dastan never fixed it after he created it several years ago under Mariah- it added a nice bit of coercion when he dealt with his enemies.

*" You've got a lot of nerve-"* His digitized voice crackled out, growled in a gravelly bass. His face was covered. Then it hit him- 'could she recognize me?'



Dastan, a man of many talents. Also, a man with many flaws.... Thankfully, most of those flaws didn't revolve around handling himself. Unless of course that meant handling himself with composure in this instance.

[Emic Lai]

Emic rolled her eyes at the speech she was given by the Sith at the bar.

"Spare me the sales pitch, hun. I've heard it before."

She spotted another figure approaching from across the bar. She had a feeling she knew who it was. Then a lightsaber blade not more than a foot from her body, and a voice she recognized, even though the static. It helped that the bar fell entirely silent at the event.

"Dastan," she said. "Look at you. All grown up. A big, bad Sith."

She pulled a slug pistol from seemingly nowhere and rested it on the bar, her hand on top.

"Put that lightsaber away before I have to split your skull in two. And I really don't want to get blood on this dress."

[Kell Sangros]

He narrowed his eyes, he was not a salesman “I don’t think you would survive among the Sith” he said matter of factly and rose from his seat.

just moments after he spotted Dastan moving in to attack he pulled out his own lightsaber but did not yet ignite the blade. Instead he gathered the power of the Dark Side to him, letting it flow through him. His senses acutely alert now. If Dastan was not a proven ally he would have left to seek out the Imperial whom he sensed very nearby, in fact he could have sworn he felt him enter the same bar. Though, right now his focus was on the fight in front of him. Dastan knew that Warvanus would have his back. As a mindless patron decided to try to join the fight, he rolled his eyes.

Warvanus gave the patron a side kick, tagging the patron in the ribs, needless to say the man fell back and off his feet clutching his side. The fight taken out of him but that did not stop Warvanus. He grabbed the man with his free hand by his hair and putting the hilt of his lightsaber to the back of his neck, he ignited the blade and the crimson blade pierced through the man’s throat. He might have made a few gurgling sounds before he met his end. He deactivated it still holding it, watching the events before this Zabrack and Lord Imatari.