[quote=@TheWatchDog]
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							[b]Taris[/b]

It had taken Rhaenessya Aladar more than a few moments to realize the woman who was nearly taller than her (exceptional as she was very tall for a human female) was tense due to anxiety over something far away as she was due to the fact that she was watching what someone who grew up in a blasted wasteland would consider absolutely pointless waste and savagery. It was an anxiety that took her another second or two to process, her thoughts dwelt on Raveem but there was no lust for the bothan, love of a sort yes, devotion yes but nothing carnal. After that an eyebrow raised in surprise, the ISB spymaster from the Vash’Ah clan had taken a human female from a wasteland filled with backwater savages as a foster? One, that apparently was close enough to him to form filial bonds? Around them, the activity seemed to heighten to a fevered pitch as men and women came in from work, most of which were adorned with municipal uniforms of one type or another. Police (such as they were), sanitation workers, surveyors, several city accountants who requested their “usual” seats and drinks. Others, came in who were clearly thugs belonging to different gangs, each eying each other suspiciously but kept to themselves, taking seats at opposite sides of the brothel. “This place is neutral ground, once that compact is violated the people who do the violating will have to be hunted down and exterminated by the other gangs or the city cops”

Perfect! Aladar allowed herself a smile but a ping of shame fluttered into her heart as her mind raced back to the image of the bruised girl bringing drinks to her table, her tense hands, the stress in her eyes which seemed glazed. The addiction, the self hatred, the need for more to escape for a little while the feelings of despair, acceptance and when that passed..of..enjoyment. “Not like imperial intelligence reports huh?” she asked Phasma her voice almost tight. “I was a Padawan, then order sixty six happened and I found myself homeless and alone on a world much like this one...In a place much like this one” She allowed herself an almost baleful laugh. Though she’d begun to start making peace with this part of her life, the pain, the temptation to subsume her mind in it, the whisper of the dark, it was all as strong as ever. This time though, she pushed through, enduring the temptation to find her center in her new found freedom, purpose, mentor and..more..”See, when the idiot activists who talk about how the Empire tolerated slavery and even profited off it criticize us, they talk about all the children who are beaten and abused, seeing some shaky waif on a holoprogram makes for solid fund raising venture” her eyes flickered with tired annoyance at the sanctimony of it all, Republic or Empire, corruption was corruption and it was an eternal foe. “What they don’t tell you, is that the shaky waifs are the lucky ones, because if they’re still sad and scared and wondering why this happened to them, then they haven’t really become a slave. See, it wasn’t that I had grown men have their way with me when I was only a little older than her, it wasn’t that I had children torn from my body while I was still a child. It was that after a while, they succeeded in breaking you so badly you start to enjoy it all. And then, after that? You start to revel in how debased you are and then you start seeking out others to lure in, to groom, to make like you”


She took a breath, fighting back tears of regret, shame. -How could I relapse? Fall to the dark? When there so much work to do, mistress Janus is right….I needed to come here, I needed to remember where the middle of my journey began to move on- “That’s why the life of an inquisitor was to appealing, why the darkside was so seductive. The sad reality of it, is that I made it out because in my heart, in my soul part of me, screamed, cried and fought to be free of it all. Miryia..errr...Invictus Janus she..reminded me of who I was, she reminds me every day of who I am” a knowing smile flickered across her face, yes, Aladar thought, Phasma understood a bit of that. “Which brings me to the saddest part of this, all these child slaves you see here, they enter this world innocent..they become victims, then become willing participants. It’s why I hold the view that the only slaves worth liberating are the newest, or the ones who fight their way out”

She paused, her eyes narrowing on the Sephi and Zeltron, one of them had begun to think of the Chiss, they worked for him?! Her eyes flickered, the force seemed to wrap around Aladar in ways she hadn’t felt it touch her in a long time. Centering herself, recalling her first masters training and on the lessons Miryia had begun to teach her the woman allowed the light of the force to begin to burn in the center of her being, her “inner forge”. The living force and smatterings of the dark (as much as she’d allow herself to tap into any way), writhed within her, burning inside the fire of the light until all that was left was the purity of motion. Messing with the telepaths mind was dangerous, she wasn’t as skilled in the subtleties of the mind as her first master had been. “What I’m going to attempt to do is something I haven’t done since I was a little girl..Twenty years now? Hah they might sense me and start shooting” The woman stuck her tongue out, she was nearly thirty five, but she looked younger whether her strength in the force or her heritage, there were moments where she acted younger as well. Returning to focus on the Rodian pretending to look high as a kite she began to focus on his festering resentment, both for the Chiss who’d moved in and coopted their gang and for the gangs that were wining and dining here in front of him able to eat better and afford prettier females. How they were able to kill some of his guys before the chiss took over, before he “wiped the slate clean”. If Aladar pushed just right, this would look like his own men weren’t just turning on him but turning on everyone and breaking all the rules due to pent up fury at his presence.

“Regretfully” she murmured, between bouts of intense focus, touching the chords of those emotions until they began to boil. “Invictus..Janus...isn’t capable of mind probing without completely destroying the minds of those she probes, so she hasn’t been able to help me refresh my skills here the way a master might traditionally do so. By entering my mind and helping me to fend off their own attacks..but...Brick..by” something seemed to teeter inside the Rodian “Brick”

The apprentice pushed one last time, the Rodian seized, he hissed, he began to curse, to gripe louder and louder until one of the thugs at the other table overheard and tossed some dismissive remark.

And a conflagration ensued as the Rodian jumped up, pulled his blaster out and blew the left side of the other gangsters face clean off. His partners wiped off blood, burned brain matter and skull fragments and threw the table aside rushing towards the crew. Blaster fire rung out, the Sephi dodged and a bolt tore open the stomach of the little girl who’d served them drinks and before she had a chance to fall a human from another gang snatched her up and used her dying form as a human shield from which to fire from behind, -worked a little too well- she thought, everyone began to go wild and soon the entire bordello was up in arms. Aladar focused on the leg of the human who’d used the girl as a meat shield, his knew exploded and he howled in agony just as a trandoshan sank his teeth into the man’s back. Unable to move, the drug addled lizard tore him apart.


“We’re going to have to fight our way out of here” she muttered.

[@Honesty Crow][@Wildling][@countlessinsect]
[/quote]
[b][i]"I take it this was your doing?"[/i][/b]

That voice, it came from right behind Phasma and Aladar. Somehow, Highsinger was able to get behind both women without garnering the attention of anyone else amidst all the chaos and blasterfire and surprisingly enough; there was no blood to be found on his manipulators or his vibrosword. Yet at least, indicating that he really did sneak past the crowd before and after the blaster bolts started flying. Not bad for a 7 ft. tall killing machine with a large golden headcrest that's more at home on the most ostentatiously decorated and modified protocol droids.

[i][b]"Too conspicuous for my liking, but it will work well enough to draw out our target's enforcers or those of his "business partners'". "[/b][/i]

Looking into the increasingly expanding bar fight, Highsinger scans the ball of violence before he locks onto an interesting sight: A Zygerrian crawling out from an overturned table with briefcase in hand and tried to scurry away from the insanity without anyone taking notice, only to bump right into a Yinchorri's carapace as it was busy stabbing a Shistavanen in the gut with a broken bottle while the canid jumped on top of the reptilian's chest in an attempt to tear its throat open, knocking the feline down and sending the contents of his briefcase clattering across the now-bloody bar floor: Phials of glitteryll...

Scrambling to grab as much of the contraband as his pockets and furry claws can carry before they were crushed underfoot or worse; some of the spice-addicts taking notice, the Zygerrian reached out to take one last phial only for his hand to be stepped on rather painfully. Biting back a curse, he craned his head up and prepared to threaten whoever was blind enough to not see what he was doing who he was doing it for, only to let out a pitiful mewling whine as he realized that he was looking straight into the eyes of death itself: An assassin droid, with a circular thing on its head; just like the one that boss Jouren warned him about... And then what it said next confirmed his worst fears.

"[b][i]We need to talk. Come Apprentice and servant.[/i][/b]"

Before the felid could pull away, Highsinger applies more pressure on his foot; earning him a series of satisfying cracks and the Zygerrian yowling in utter agony and misery, his hand was utterly pulverized and leaving him utterly helpless as the lanky droid grabs him by the head and began to drag him out of the bar, where either a nasty glare or a lightning-fast punch to the throat of anyone thinking themselves clever was more than enough to convince most of the brawling patrons that getting in the trio's way was not a good idea.