A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

[Arcona] Maximum Brevity: The Run-on!


Loved and hated in equal measures, the Maximum Brevity series of fictions has proven popular enough for me to elect to try it in run-on form. As with the fiction topics, I am sticking to a fairly simple, but hopefully useable prompt


  • Posts to be no MORE than 250 words
  • No two members shall post back and forth more than twice (Member A posts, followed by B, followed by A, followed by B - A may then not post)
  • I will keep an eye on the RO and post prompt updates every so often
  • Otherwise, normal run-on rules & etiquette apply

Arcona Citadel
38 ABY

“Are you certain it’s faulty? Maybe that Private just didn’t know how to use his sidearm.”

“That’s why we’re running a test!”

“Uhhhh, me objects, Blinky! C-c’mon now, eh, let’s see, heh, see reason, get some drinks, forget, uh, about this, make the others do it! You’re Shadow Lady now, don’t need to be, uh, investigating, yeah?”

“Quiet, Little Peon Blue!” the new Consul sing-songed, picking up one of the Zratis Arms blasters and taking aim at the poor Ryn where he stood at the end of the Citadel’s shooting range, neatly tied to a training dummy.

Kordath’s tail twitched, hard. Uji sighed, half in sympathy, half just glad it wasn’t him. He still had enough bruises from the Miraluka’s first bout of retribution.

Atyiru smiled jauntily and squeezed the trigger.


Kordath breathed out in relief as the first blast went wide, and got a look of concern on his face as he saw his Consul make a gesture at his friend.

Coming at a run, Uji stopped before the trussed up Ryn. “Not my idea, I swear,” he stated before placing a shuura fruit atop the Priest’s head. Before he was half the five meters or so back, Atyiru let off another shot. Kordath felt the fruit burst atop his head from the superheated gases, the soft insides scalding his scalp.

“Blast it woman! Let me….no no no,” he shouted as the Shadow Lady took a few more potshots at him. The pistol let off a loud whining sound, causing Uji to snatch it from Atyiru’s grasp and throw it down the firing range.

As it exploded, the Ryn let out another piercing scream.


Pushing the new Consul down, Uji took cover from the explosion as shrapnel tore through the air. Hearing the scream Uji looked up in concern to see the Ryn still tensed but seemingly unharmed.

Looking down range Uji winced as a Zratis Arm’s employee lay on the ground bleeding out slowly from severe burns and shrapnel injuries.

“See what you did now? Come on I told you this was a bad id-” Uji grunted as Atyiru blindly swung her arm as she stood. The Templar hit the ground groaning as he felt his stomach twist from the pain.

“What were you saying dear? Felt like that hurt” Atyiru looked around, seeking out any employees left standing.

“Uhhh blinky… can… I get down now?” Kordath whimpered softly.


“By the Force, what is happening in here, Commander?”

Uji froze. It was her.

“Captain! There seems to be some faulty equipment. We are…ensuring it’s not a fluke, ma’am.”

Uji turned to face his commanding officer, who stood mere feet behind him with arms crossed, her face displaying the most distasteful of emotions. How long she had been there, Uji didn’t know, but she didn’t look happy.

“Chances are you lot don’t know how to use a firearm properly. Give one here,” Cortel stated plainly, holding a hand out.


The violet woman lay quietly atop a stack of weapon crates stacked against the wall. Her nails clacked gently against the weapons inside the top crate as she waited for a perfect time to announce her presence in the most dramatic way possible. She reached into the box and tossed down another handful of blasters.

“Yeah, these don’t work either.” the Twi’lek said, a grin spreading across her lips as she dismounted the boxes. Landing in near the charred space and strutting over towards the Consul. She flourished her arms dramatically, as if wearing a dress instead of the skin tight pants, and curtsied.

“Mistress Consul, nice to see you taking interest in such petty affairs.” she chuckled as she raised her eyes back up to the Miraluka’s face, “I didn’t think the Billowy Cloaks ever bothered with such small matters.”

She skipped over to Kord, gave the Blue Squishy a silly grin, spun and waved both her hands in the air.

“So! Can we stab people now?!” she giggled manically towards no one in particular.


“Lady Katicorn, the Lady of the Billow Cloak sees to all matters,” Atyiru said, then turned to the newly arrived Human. “Arcia, my friend!” she cried, diving around the woman’s outstretched hand to scoop her into a hug. The captain stood stiffly, her blank, cold face betrayed only by the twitch of her eyebrow and the icy fire in her green eyes.

“Shadow Lord,” Arcia replied, stepping quickly away. “Respectfully, you shouldn’t be attending to these things.”

“Yes, yes, go administrate, blah blah blah. Anyways!” Atyiru spun on her heel and skipped back towards Uji as he stood painfully to salute. “Plus, there’s a bunch of dead streetwalkers stuffed behind the Throne, soooo—”


“TEMPLAR BOY! Go untie Bleu when K’tana is done with him! We’ve got some investigating to do since these weapons are clearly faulty.”


Uji shook his head as he attempted to undo the restraints holding Kordath in place. It was perplexing the depth and complexity that the Miraluka had managed in her knots.

“How the hells did she do this to you, Bleu?”

“I was promised one of those new escorts to umm, take around. Just be glad she loosened the ropes after the first tie up, I have no idea how she even did this mate. Just…just get me down before one of these crazy women starts shooting again.”

“Oh hey, one of them didn’t blow up yet!” The two men heard the Twi’lek yell, causing them both to dive to the floor. It was going to be a long karking night.


“We could just leave, the Rancor isn’t -that- far way…” The Templar looked towards the Ryn almost pleading.

“Lets go…” the two Equites began crawling towards the nearest exit without getting up.

“Get BACK HERE!” Atyiru’s screech stopped both men short.

Glancing back they found a number of blasters pointed at them. Arcia, Atyiru and most distressingly K’tana held one of the malfunctioning blasters pointed towards them.

“I think we’re ging to die”



K’tana twirled the defective weapon around her finger, not use to the feel of a blaster in her hands. She deftly threw the gun up, caught it and promptly dropped it at her feet. As it fell, her eyes grew wide as she dove backwards away from, what she thought would be an explosion.

Nothing happened but the clattering of the weapon to the ground, but the Twi’lek stood several feet back, lekku and arms wrapped around her face.

“So. That was anticlimactic.” she said, her fingers pulling away from her eyes. She burst into laughter as she poked at the gun with her heeled boot. “I think I’ll leave these uncivilized Pew-Pew’s to the rest of you.”

She turned her side to the males in the archway, looking at the Shadow Lady and flickering her lekku about.

“Why are we even aiming these things at them? Shouldn’t we just throw them?” her head tilted to the side as she smirked.


“That sounds like a good idea to me. Oh osik!” Celevon shouted, ducking quickly as the Twi’lek instinctively flung one of the pistols in his general direction.

“Don’t sneak up on me!”

“Hey! It’s the psycho… Don’t send me into space!” the Ryn quickly hid behind Uji as the Onderonian’s silver gaze turned to him.

“We’re blowing things up and setting things on fire… and no one thought to invite me to the party? I’m hurt.”


“Cel, dear,” the Shadow Lady greeted, as if she and the man hadn’t been dueling just days past. “I would have called, but I thought you had the girls today!”

“No, today is River’s turn for caretaking. How are you?”

“Blessed as the Lady of the Moon ever blessed anyone,” replied Atyiru brightly. “Except I’ve got to find more streetwalkers, since all mine are…uh, indisposed. Oh, and there’s a bunch of our Zatrin Weapons supplies defective, so that needs investigating. Care to join?”

“Glady,” replied the haunting-stared Human. Atyiru clapped her hands in delight.

“FANTASTIC! Bluey Squishy, Templar-Boy, Katicorn, follow me! Arcia…you can walk in front,” the Miraluka said with a grin. If she’d had eyes, she would have winked.

Striding forward, she grabbed Kordath by the tail and tugged him on. The Ryn desperately flailed for Uji’s shirtsleeves, knotting his fingers in the fabric. Instead of pulling Atyiru to a stop or freeing the Krath, the Templar found himself pulled along too.

K’tana squealed, throwing her arms in the air. “TRAIN RIDE, TRAIN RIDE! WEEE!” she screeched, and tackled Uji by the ankles, getting dragged along.’

A chuckling Celevon and exasperated Arcia followed.


“This is a lot less fun than I thought it was going to be.”the Twi’lek said with a pout after being pulled a short distance before stopping, being pulled and stopping again. She let go of Uji’s legs and stood up with a scowl. She stopped for a second and looked at each of the people walking, gauging their sizes. She let her gaze linger on Cel for half a second before flinging herself onto his back.

“MUSH!” she shrieked with a giggle and pointed, in the wrong direction, over his shoulder.

From the rafters there was loud squawk-sound and a thunk as a dusty lilac colored blur fell from the ceiling onto the Twi’lek’s back. Skittering up over the violet woman’s shoulders, the Kowakian monkey-lizard perched on Celevon’s head and repeatedly whipped him on the face with her tail.

“Oh! There you are!” K’tana said with affection oozing from her voice as she rubbed the little creatures beak. “Hurry up Cel! I’m getting bored!”


“Oi! Slave driver,” Celevon muttered under his breath. moving a little faster as he looked ahead at the small group. “Um… Atty. Where are we going?”


“Strip club, it is,” the Aedile nodded. “We’re going the wrong way…”

“No, we’re not. This is a shortcut,” the Twi’lek retorted indignantly. “I know exactly where we’re going!”

“I’m going to follow her,” Kordath pointed out, still shaking slightly.

“Like hell you will, Bleu!” the Shadow Lady shouted randomly.

“… She’s on his back… And he’s at the end of the line,” the Templar dryly commented.

“Now everyone’s against me,” Kordath muttered.

“If it helps, I’m on your side, Bleu,” Celevon playfully crooned.

“… You’re the one I’m arguing with!”


“GENTLEMEN!” Atyiru cried, stopping abruptly mid-stride. The abused Ryn she was dragging along by the tail crashed into her legs and slumped pitifully to the ground, whimpering in pain. From there, it was a, ahem, trainwreck.

Uji tripped over Kordath as the Krath dragged him down, falling into his Consul. K’tana began squirming viciously in excitement, screaming about wanting to join the squishy pile, and Celevon collapsed under her as she clocked him just behind the ear. Arcia stood far in the front, as if to pretend she didn’t know the group of misfits, and slapped a hand to her forehead.

The Shadow Lady sat up and dislodged the Templar on top of her, leaping back to her feet — and just happening to step on Kordath’s fingers with her heels as she did so.

Atyiru dusted off her robes primly, straightened her braid, resettled her cloak, and then put her hands on her hips and started shouting, “GET UP YOU LAZY TIP-YIPS! WE’VE GOT THINGS TO DO! AND GIRLS TO DO TOO!” she paused, tapping her lip. “And, uh, weapons to keep from blowing up, or something.”

Bending over and snatching up Kordath’s slightly broken fingers, she began dragging the group along again, whistling jauntily.

“TO THE BAR! For, uh, contacts! Investigating! AND WHISKEY!”


Bursting out into a fit of manic laughter, K’tana did a sloppy somersault and landed on her face. She barrel rolled away from the pile and leaped to her feet, clutching her ribs as she gasped for breath. Grabbing Liera by the scruff, she hauled her out from under one of the human males, unsure of which one it was since they all kinda looked the same to her, and tossed the monkey-lizard onto her shoulders.

The Twi’lek skipped after Atty, gently grabbing the woman’s braided head-tail, put the end in her mouth and followed behind the Miraluka, trying not to drool on the woman’s fur.

“Wooo! All the ladiesh!” she slurred over the braid and danced along.


From the mess hall doors up ahead, a familiar figure emerged. Rrogan Skar poked his masked face out of the door, eyes widening as his former Captain went marching by.

“I suggest you retreat, Sergeant,” Arcia huffed as she brushed past, and Skar only had time to blink before a Miraluka much tinier than him sized him by the arm and yanked him out the door. Bewildered, the hulking Kaleesh glanced around, staring at the Twi’lek eating his Consul’s hair, his old shipmate Uji being dragged along behind a Ryn, and his Aedile Celevon shuffling after them all.

And then there was the monkey-creature screeching at him.

“COME ALONG, RROGON, CHILD! WE MUST AWAY!” Atyiru cheered. “Oi, have you seen Turel? I wanted to find him. OOOH, AND MARICK! TUREL AND MARICK! Because, really, they both need to get laid. Ashla and Bogan know Arcia won’t put out—”


“I can’t hear you, I’m too busy being happy! Weeee!” the Consul cried, and hauled her little train of poor underlings along to The Tipsy Rancor.


Making his way to the back of of the motley crew, he keep up with his Aedile and even tried to make some idle conversation with the groupe.

“So anyone want to explain why we’re going to a strip joint.”

The Shadow lady was the first to speak up “WE’RE GOING FOR LADIES!”

Celevon was the next to speak up “WE’RE GOING FOR BOOZE.”

Rrogon just shook his head and brought out his pipe and lit it with a spare match. “This is going to be an interesting night …. OH also good luck getting me to drink.”


The Twi’lek walked up behind Skar, dropping the Shadow Lady’s hair from her lips, and whacked him on the back of the head with her lekku. She giggled as she danced away, her pet once again sitting on the her violet shoulders and snapping at Skar as the woman danced away. The purple woman wiggled her hips more than necessary as she pranced off, calling over her shoulder:

“I bet you I can get you to take shots by the end of the night.” she grinned as she stopped in front of the slightly taller, Human woman. “But what about you? Are you up to doing shots with me?”

She gave a quick wink to the woman as she let a more serious look wipe the smile off her lips.


“No,” Arcia sneered, and the two women stared at each other, electricity crackling between them.

The Shadow Lady and her playthings stopped to watch the exchange, suddenly attentive.

“Tiny gods, I hope this turns into a chick fight,” Atyiru murmured.

“Or a sudden release of all that sexual tension,” Celevon muttered back. Atyiru reached out behind her, high-fiving him. Uji and Kordath nodded.

“I, uh…what?” Skar asked.




Both Arcia and K’tana snapped their stares to the yelling Consul. Any promising tension in the air evaporated. Atyiru whined dismally for the loss.

“Bumblefluff,” she muttered.

The purple Twi’lek of their group quickly changed lost interest. “ANYWAY,” she cried. “Let’s go, let’s goooooo, c’mon! I wanna do belly shots! Oooh, while riding a rancor! Frick yeah!”

That was enough incentive to get Atyiru running again. Uji, Skar, and Kordath shouted as they were hopelessly hauled along, somehow, by the much smaller female. Celevon sprinted after them, and then everyone was fumbling headlong through the corridors.

Up ahead, another door opened, this one a small office. A short, graying Human stepped out, a scowl on his face and a stack of recommendations in hand, before his eyes quickly widened.

“What in Palpetine’s name—?”

“C’MON ANDREL, BEER TIME!” Atty shouted, swinging Skar out to grab onto the Imperial like she was playing with a barrel of monkey-lizards. The Kaleesh reflexively clamped his claws down around Andrelious’ arm, and then they were off again.

“Weeeeeeeee-hee-hee!” the Shadow Lady laughed.


The Warlord eagerly began drinking an Ebla beer with the fellow Arconans already present. He was still quite speechless, but as the alcohol entered his system, he began to relax and actually enjoy himself.

“So what exactly did you bring with you, dear?” queried Atty, trying to look professional and focussing on the actual matter in hand.

“Well…” began Andrelious, just as the female on the stage began her burlesque club routine.

Piano music began to play and the mellow tempo began filling the room.

The beer was flowing and many bright, shiny colours began swirling.

The music changed speed and the female began erotically dancing around a pole, pressing the centre of her breasts onto the metal. She wrapped one leg tightly around the structure. Her bare slender legs were very alluring, and the sparkling diamante stiletto heels complimented her tanned complexion perfectly. The minimalistic lingerie her petite frame was adorned with, was very flattering.

All those present were almost mesmerised and in hypnotic states.

The mission was paused whilst the alcohol continued to flow and each individual got a thrill from the performance in front of them.

Silence was held for quite some time, before Kordath nudged Andrelious.

“Does your missus know you’re here?”

The Sith adjacent to him was too busy to notice.

Suddenly the door crashed open.

His face fell.

“Kooki!” he whispered.

Everyone held their breath.

She stared her spouse in the face, ignoring the others.

“You didn’t wait for me!! Mine’s an Ebla beer!!”


Thirty minutes, it’d been thirty minutes since anyone had shot at Kordath, and he was feeling alright. Thirty minutes and three glasses of whiskey on the rocks, one to stop the shaking, one to cheer him up, and the current one to get him sociable. K’tana had disappeared for a while after the first dancer had gotten off stage, she and her Monkey-Lizard returning just now oddly covered in glitter. The Twi’lek was grinning, and had a dazed look of happiness on her face.

Good for her thought the Ryn with a grin, surveying the table and doing a double take as his vision caught his Consul. Scooting his chair over loudly, he leaned in to speak to Andrelious.

“Hey, Chubs,” he started before being cut off.

“Don’t call me Chubs, Ryn,” said the man with a sigh, the Ebla beer seemed to have mollified his
usual temperament.

“Don’t call me Ryn, then, Humie.”

The Sith let out a heavy sigh, turning to face the annoyance that was Bleu. “What? I’m enjoying the show while Kooki allows it, not often we get a night off from the children together.”

“Yeah, well, your wife seems to be working to advance her place in the Clan.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well the Consul has her tongue down her throat, and she ain’t’ exactly fighting back mate,” spoke the Ryn with a smile. Andrelious turned to stare in horror at the spectacle, noting the rest of his Clan mates whooping and cheering the women on.


Atyiru’s grin grew wicked.

“No, it means you’re stuck!” the Miraluka cried. “Me, I ain’t gots no rings, I can do what I want. Oi, Bluey!”

“Uhhhwah ya want, Blinky–”

Before the Ryn could finish his sentence, the Archpriestess had grabbed him by the collar, bodily hauled him over the table, and slammed her mouth to his.

Kordath waved his arms and made a shrill squawking sound through his nose, but quickly fell still - whether t was out of fear or enjoyment, nobody knew.

“Oh, oh, me next, me next!” K’tana squealed, eyes still glazed and greedy. Uji sat stiffly in the booth, looking increasingly more uncomfortable.

Seemingly unwilling to wait, the Twi’lek shoved the Ryn right out of Atyiru’s hold and happily took his place. Kordath rolled back into the booth with a clatter of spilled drinks, ending up soundly in Uji’s lap. The Human glared downwards.

Andrelious arched an eyebrow as his wife moved back around “Are you two an item now?” he asked mockingly.

“You know,” Atyiru interjected suddenly, coming up for air as the glittery Twi’lek clung to her. “Males of the Ryn species can totally produce young, just like the females! They could have baaaa-bbiiiies,” she sang, and then resumed her lip-lock.

Uji and Kordath didn’t move or blink, but it looked like they died inside.

Kooki smirked. “Goodluck! I’d like to see you lot as mothers!”


Freshly manicured nails tapped away at a datapad as the woman stood waiting. She had the Zratis Arms Corporation’s building within her sight, but she had others to wait on. Mirus had to be nearby somewhere and she had no idea where their unexpected team mate was.

The Sephi frowned as she looked up from the datapad, Mirus finally entering her sights as he moved to join her. The frown, though, wasn’t directed at him.

“Did you find this other group?” Rhiann asked as Mirus approached hearing range of her voice.

He shook his head, “I heard word of a rowdy group heading for a bar, though.”

Mirus’ eyebrow raised as he heard the woman next to him grumble. She was not a very happy space elf.

“It works in our favour.” Said their third, having skulked in from the shadows.


Uji stood quickly helping to bring the Ryn to his feet. The two looked around the room and took in the placements of their fellow Dark Jedi. The bartender and bar girls circling the group like ravenous beasts to get access to Arcona’s credits. Holding the now thoroughly intoxicated Ryn on his feet.

Uji tried to shake the fog from his mind, the amount of whiskey and smoke in the bar clouding his thoughts.

“…Wer… Weren’t we supposed to be doing something?”

“Every party need a pooper… that… that.s why they invited you!” Atyiru’s sing song voice started up, taking only a moment for the rest of the companions to join in.

“Party pooper! PARTY pooper!”

Out of a nearby covered alcove came the sound of Celevon’s voice, singing along with the rest of the group as he and a disheveled Skar came stumbling out adjusting their robes

“Hey Chubs! We’e shuposed to be doing something right?” Kordath asked Andrelious attempting to recover from his recent molestation and move on before any further question as to his fertility were raised.


Baxir’s eyes narrowed as he looked his partners up and down, inwardly trying to judge them harshly but coming up short. He’d find something that annoyed him soon enough, given time. He always did. It was rare that a non-Khil possessed the professionalism he expected in others.

“You were right on two fronts. The other Arconans are missing the severity of the situation, and…” Baxir let out a gravelly whistle of annoyance as he pulled his own datapad from its pouch at his side. A faint blue glow bathed his face as he tapped it to life. The Khil’s eyes narrowing further as he glanced at his messages, then turned his glare back to Mirus and Rhiann. “…no response from Wuntilla or Vassan about this situation. This isn’t how you run a business.”

“You know as well as I do,” Mirus shifted his attention to the building, “that screw ups like this don’t happen from the top.”

Rhiann signaled that she was ready to move by stowing her device and giving a nod toward Zratis Arms.


The Twi’lek, still in her giddy haze, wormed her way from the Consul and the group, her drunk monkey-lizard teetering on the woman’s shoulder and sneezing out glitter. The DJ was totally playing her song! Although not drunk, the Twi’lek, who would occasionally swear to having the soul of a Zeltron, staggered up to the stage.

A large bouncer at the side eyed her up, looked behind the curtain to see if there was someone else about to perform and waved the Twi’lek up. The current dancer was no where to be seen and everyone loves Twi’lek dancers.

Bending over provocatively, she tightened her platform heels and swayed her hips as she went to the pole.

“Hey!” she yelled at the group, a big smile on her face “Mistress Billowy Cloak! Come join me! Oh! Or Arcia! I bet you can work a good…pole”

She burst into giggled as she climbed to the top, flipped upside down and executed a perfect death drop, her face stopping inches before the floor.


Casting a glance to the two behind him, Mirus took the lead. Physically imposing enough clad in battle plate, he looked the part of a wandering warrior of some noble form, even if all outward appearances indicated he had a single large boulder between his ears in place of grey matter. The doors burst open a moment later, casting the powerful figures of a Khil, a Dathomiri and a Sephi.

The reception desk, large as it was, had a wonderfully pretty brunette girl sitting behind it, idly using her long fingernails to tap upon a datapad to manage the appointments her bosses had days later. Her task here was mostly customer service-- at seeing three new customers walk through the door, she brightened up, adjusted her top slightly to sit a little more straight, and offered them a bright smile.

“Welcome to Zratix Arms! How may I be of assistance to you today?”

“We’d like an appointment with your managers,” stated Baxir plainly, lying through his teeth. “We represent a mercenary company and would like to secure a deal with you. Do you have a timeslot available later today, perhaps?”

“I… I’m sure I can pencil you in in, say, two hours,” the lady said, unsure of the Khil’s countenance given how unnerving it was.

Rhiann and Mirus shared a glance. That was easy enough.


Looking down her nose at the woman behind the desk, Rhiann sniffed in annoyance. “Two hours? Do you have any private waiting rooms where we can waste our time in peace?”

The receptionist tapped through a few screens on her datapad and handed the Sephi a visitor card. “Take lift Cresh to the 3rd floor. You have conference room 307. Please help yourself to the refreshments in the hall.”

With a nod, the Templar turned and led the others two the turbolift, stepped inside, and pressed 3.

“I don’t know how spending the next few hours in a waiting room will be of much use to us,” Baxir fluted flatly through waggling hullepi as they excited the lift.

“Well, we’re not going to just sit around and play with holopuzzles. We’ll make use of our time here. Mirus, can you call Atyiru and let her know we’re in the building in the event that they would like to make themselves useful?” Rhiann smirked ever so slightly as she opened the door to room 307. “Besides, I already verified that these conference rooms had access terminals.”

Baxir plopped down in a chair at the table as Rhiann fired up the terminal.


As the Warlords fist was about to make contact with the Shadow Lady’s jaw, years of training (and the words ingrained into her from her former mentor who believed that if you could dodge a Krayt you could dodge anything) took control as she rolled her chin with the momentum of the blow to disperse the inertia rather than absorb it fully.

Anger burned in Andrelious’ eyes. He chambered a second fist and started to thrust it towards Atyiru’s gut. Before the strike could connect, however, a dark clad figure melted out of the shadows and took hold of his wrist. The grip wasn’t powerful, but a single deft movement twisted the Warlords wrist until a sharp crack and a grunt of pain echoed out.

“Do you know what the average life expectancy of those who threaten the Consul is?” Marick Arconae asked, his face a stoic mask of dispassionate calm.

“No,” Andrelious growled, hand now limp.

“I lost count years ago,” the Consul Emeritus said simply. It wasn’t a threat. Just a statement of fact. "You’d be wise not to test the statistic."The Adept released his grip on the Warlords wrist. Andrelious wheeled about and glowered at the former Consul. “And you condone this…behavior of theirs!?”

Marick didn’t blink, but his eyes scanned the rest of the room. “It no longer matters what I condone,” he said with a half shrug. Andrelious started to counter, but found himself talking to empty-air. The Elder Assassin had simply disappeared.


Turel emerged from a private lounge entrance in the back with a mostly empty glass of Corellian whiskey in one hand and a crimson skinned female with long, wavy, raven hair in a sensual yet elegant dress on his arm. The obviously Zeltron female gracefully held a martini glass in her free hand as she clung to the Human.

Kark!” Turel muttered as he noticed most of the Arcona summit in the main bar.

“Friends of yours?” The Zeltron inquired of the Quaestor who nodded in affirmation. “Well let’s go say hi sweetie, unless you’re ashamed of me?”

“One moment dear.” Turel stated as he scanned the room and found his Aedile. The Qel-Droma command team locked eyes across the room as they had a telepathic conversation bringing Turel up to speed. The Quaestor nodded after a few moments. He leaned in to whisper to his crimson skinned companion who cocked her eyebrow, slightly confused. Turel discreetly pointed to where Andrelious was seething at the bar alone.

“Are you sure? He seems so, uptight.”

“Oh Andrelious has just had a rough day, I’m sure he appreciate some company.”

The Zeltron took a fresh martini from the bartender and adjusted her dress before leaning in to kiss Turel’s cheek. “Anything for you sweetie.”

Turel’s attractive companion sashayed over to Andrelious and pulled a stool uncomfortably close to him. She placed a hand on the Sith’s arm. “Why is a scrumptious man like yourself down? My name is Galaxia.”


Rrogon’s eyes filtered over the motley crew until it finally settled on K’tana who was still dancing on the striper pole. He was now beginning to enjoy this detour more than he should have been.

Taking a long draw from his pipe he slowly let the smoke filter out through his nostrils and the small holes that were carved into his mask. Letting his gaze shift ever so slightly he saw the moping Andrelious sitting at the bar with a beautiful looking Zeltron female at his side.

Skars eyes widened ever so slightly as he saw the Zeltron but thats not was surprised him as its pheromones finally made it way over to him it was the fact that they belonged to a male Zeltron and not a female.


Andrelious scowled as he gently pushed Galaxia’s hand off his arm. “Look, Galaxia is it? I just want to be left alone.”

The Zeltron made a playfully pouty face. “Aw, that’s a shame. I like a man with experience, who,” She bit her lip seductively before leaning into the human’s ear to whisper in a silky voice, “knows what he’s doing.”

The Sith leaned back for a moment with a shocked expression on his face. Galaxia’s forwardness had taken him by surprise. He was traveled and worldly enough to recognize the Zeltron pheromones starting to affect him, but he increasingly found himself losing the will to leave. He blinked as he struggled to find the will to resist. “My, um, wife is here.”

Galaxia leaned closer to Andrelious “Her loss,” she breathed onto his neck licking her lips as she resumed caressing the human’s arm running her eyes up and down the Sith with the ravenous hunger of a jungle predator. “Dont’ worry, I’m not an Anzat. I won’t bite…unless you want me to.”

Across the bar Turel approached Atyiru and bowed with a flourish, “My lady, may I join you?”

“No need to be formal, have a seat.” The Shadow Lady paused awkwardly. “Is that your, um, girlfriend over there with Andrelious?”

“Strictly business associate and yes.”

The Miraluka smiled. “You do know that she’s a um.”

“A he. Yes.”

“Does Andrelious know that?”

“Nope.” The Quaestor and Consul shared a laugh as Kooki emerged from the restroom.


She watched the entire show from the stage, like a bored tusk-cat that spent all day lounging in the sun. She held the pole in a tight, but easy looking grip, as her legs walked horizontally through the air. She saw the former Billowy Cloak Lord, brood his way between Andrelious’ fist and disappear.

Still bored, she arched her back, spun in a forward angel dive and almost faltered when her eyes spotted an entertaining prey. She went from a sun-drunk feline to blood frenzied manka cat as the familiar feeling of pheromones gently wafted up the stage. She almost felt her pupils dilate as she pushed off the pole. Using the momentum to throw her into a forward roll, landing in a half split and b-lined off the stage.

She heard a clap, an irritated cat-call and Liera gibbering angrily behind her, but she paid no attention to any of it. She walked straight to the Zeltron, threw herself up on the table in front of Galexia and gazed into the woman’s eyes.

She gave the crimson skinned lovely a good long once over, then the Twi’lek smirked as she rolled her head to look over at the warlord.

“Hey, what’s-your-name!” K’tana laughed, licking her lips and giving the Human a brief sneer, “I’ll pay you if you let me take this beautiful…creature, off your hands. I promise you’ll thank me for it later.”


Taking the seat at the head of the long table, Rhiann started to connect herself to the network from the terminal situated only at that spot. She spared a glance over at Baxir as her fingers started to tap at the screen and she connected her datapad to the system; firing up an all around program specifically for assisting her in getting into the systems of places like this. They usually weren’t as guarded as the companies thought they were.

Mirus on the other hand leaned up against the wall, his arms crossed. It was as if he was waiting for something.

About to open her mouth, Rhiann clued in. She may have told Mirus to call their new Shadow Lady, but he knew better than to use something in the room to do that. Waiting a moment to let the datapad do its thing and get its way into the company’s inner workings, she’d switch it over after to allow it to call up Atriyu without it being tracked from within the building.

With a nod, Mirus pushed himself off the wall and sat down at the table with the other two as Rhiann went back to the terminal and Baxir eyed the datapad and the man who seemed incredibly out of place with it, waiting for it to connect to Atriyu.