*Jerod was busy thinking as well. He was not sure of what to do. He did not know how he could prove to Nadira or Quietstorm that he was not their enemy. He thought of handing his weapons over to Nadira as a gesture to show him as a friend. No, that would not work. Quietstorm then have to be told why he did that. And what if this "Quietstorm" was an enemy or the newcomer who had come in the door a few moments earlier. Any of these people could be looking for him, wanting to end his life and then he could not defend himself. It was strange having to think for oneself, not merely taking orders and executing them. Jerod did not know how to deal with people, he had lived his life as an assassin, a shadow without feeling or compassion or remorse. He wanted to scream in anger and yet at the same time say nothing. He wanted to cry at the hopelessness of his situation, for he knew his death was certainly near. And yet, some small spark of hope inside him wanted to believe these people could be his friends and he had a chance for a future where he did not have to hide from enemies. His thoughts turned to the two lightsabers he had hanging from his belt. Trophies from Jedi he had killed. And for what? Because some evil psychopath who wanted to take over the Galaxy had ordered him to? His life seemed so pathetic suddenly. He wondered how many mothers and fathers he had killed? How many sons, and how many brothers? And then, worst of all, he wondered what was going to happen next.

*Raphael questioned his actions now. He trusted Nadira unquestioningly. Why? He didn't trust Jerod, not as a friend or an enemy. He thought of the things he could do to earn their trust. Giving up his weapons wouldn't be that bad; he was lethal with his hands and feet. But it could seem suspicious. Raphael decided to do nothing.*

(((Too much for me to read right now, so I'm just gonna kinda jump in :p)))

Walking into the cantina, Nalaen coughed a few times and had to let her cowl down. It was the only way she could get the fine gathering of sand out of her hair. And her robe? Well, that was a hopeless cause. She'd have to beat it for a few hours; luckily, she liked beating things, or else it'd be a tedious chore. Glancing around, her brow furrowed, screwing up the markings on her face. Why the heck had she been sent here? Granted, someone needed to die, but still, sending her? To Tatooine? Couldn't one of the underlings have handled it? But nooo, she had to hunt some no body on a desolate planet she had no hope of finding anything on. Only Sandpeople and Jawas and sandstorms: and target practice with the former grew wearysome after awhile.

No one could get her into serious trouble for taking time off in weather like this. If one could truly call it weather. Scouting out an empty seat in the surprisingly crowded cantina (she supposed she wasn't the only one in need of shelter) she looked around, pulling her black robe tighter about her. Quite a mix . . . hopefully no Jedi wanted to play hero and take her on. She really wasn't in the mood for failed heroics.

Though . . . as she watched, there seemed to be tension between a few of the people. All she needed now was some bangedgrains to watch the soap opera unfold. For now, she waved a waitress over and muttered an order for ale. She didn't like socialising much and was surprisingly nervous with communicating with people. She prefered the purer form of battle. But she couldn't very well challenge a waitress to a lightsabre duel over a drink, now could she? Once her ale had come, she sipped at it, content to watch the seedy events in a seedier bar, at least until something amusing came up.

(Out Of Character) You might want to go back and read through the stuff, since there are some cool stories already going on you may wish to work into. But good jump in. :D (/OOC)

*Stryke looked immediately at the newcomer and felt a chill come up his spine, but not because he was afraid. No, it was because she seemed to be just like he was, an assassin trained to kill-pure and simple. He felt the darkside in her and bad intentions. He felt quickly to make sure his lightsabers were still in place and then looked to Nadira. He knew she and Quietstorm also sensed it and he spoke quickly and quietly:

"Nadira, you may want to watch the new visitor that just came in. Might be after one of us."

*Then, he continued to watch the newcomer hoping it was just his paranoia. He was no Jedi and thus was not restrained by their morals, but at the same time he had no desire to fight this woman in this cantina.

Lalasko had been taking all this in with wrapped attention. There was little use hiding it, his fellow bar-goers were too acute for his normal methods. "Quietstorm". He had heard the name, and sadly he had read it as well. Lalasko was no bounty hunter, and at the moment he was having regrets. "This newcomer may be, though." He though this as he eyed the new arrival to the bar. Taking a breif moment to shift his gaze, he regarded her. His eye twitched. He knew that face.

He got up, slowly, as to not draw attention to himself, and walked up to Nalaen.

"Lost in the storm?" he asked in a soft voice, staring with his remaining eye not at her, but at the empty space on the wall next to her. "Perhapse I can assist you in finding your way. Or do you come her on other buisiness?"

"Perhaps she is," Nadira said softly. "Then again, she may simply be as we are, refugees of the storm."

(((I'll do that n_n)))

A slow smile spread across her face, gazing past the sightless stare at her. Instead she looked blankly out at the patrons as she answered in a dangerously sweet murmur:

"Who said anything about business? Perhaps I'm just here for the . . . fun." She wasn't even sure herself whether she was being sarcastic or facetious, so she left it up to the other to figure it out. Continuing to sip at her drink, she just kept staring off into nothing. She was used to the bristles in the Force, or people cowering away or shutting down whenever she came near. All the warning signals had gone off: the people here knew what (and who she pondered?) she was. And they let her be. Ahh, fear, how I love thee . . .

"Now, Lalasko, what inspired you to be so kindly and offer me help?" This time, she turned her face to him and put on a pout, her eyes going liquid. "I mean, you don't want to get rid of me, do you?"

*Jerod grinned as he watched the newcomer. She knew how to handle herself. He wondered why he found this situation humorous. He had spent the past few minutes trying to not think of his past or what he was and yet he found something amusing about this woman. He did not try to hide the fact that he was watching her. However, he also did not act very interested in what she was doing. He had a feeling of why she was there, but he did not want to endanger anyone else in the cantina by attracting her attention or confronting her. Perhaps she just happened to be in the area to kill a totally different person completely unrelated to Jerod or his mission. He did not believe in consequences, however, and decided to play it safe and stay where he was for the time being.

Lalasko cracked a smile, and he met her stare. "I never thought our paths would cross again. Seeing you here now is quite the coincidence." He leaned closer too her.

"I simply offered my assistance because I'm quite curious as to why you've come here." He lowered his voice. "Who is it this time? This cantina is full of marks, as you've probably noticed."

OOC: Sorry I ahven't been posting much... school catches up quickly.

BoT:

*Raphael felt around in the air, touching and tasting the emotions.*

Raphael: A hired killer... but other than that, I do not know...

She chuckled low in her chest, her head shaking slowly. Looking up at Lalasko, her eyes glinted.

"Everyone's a mark." Smirking, she took a finishing gulp of ale, and glanced around once more. Someone was watching her, and he was doing a good job of it. She could sense him, his impassionate gaze. As if she was a momentary curiosity to pass the time. Quite skilled, she realised quickly. Could he think that she was encroaching on his territory? But he was playing it smart: who wanted to face a Sith Assassin in a crowded cantina? That was death for, if not himself, then at least a few innocent by-standers.

"But seriously," she resumed, voice hardening slightly, though never rising over a hushed whisper, "this time," here she peered into her empty glass and sighed heavily, waving the waitress over for a refill, "this time I don't even know my mark." She shrugged. "I suppose I can tell you about this because damn it, I need to vent and plus, I have absolutely no intel. I was told to come here and kill some nobody, and hunt around for the information." Her nose wrinkled as she sipped the ale, it giving a calming burn, "I guess," she said into the glass, voice slightly muffled; she set it down before speaking again, "that means that the person isn't a nobody, as if I had information they could ferret it out. And run. But someone of consequence shouldn't know they've been marked until they're dead." Sitting back with a thoughtful expression, she mulled that one over, swirling her ale absentmindedly. That was one to think about. Perhaps . . . perhaps this mission would be a bit more interesting than she thought. And perhaps her master knew that there would be more to this mission than simply killing.

She smirked again, lifting the glass to her lips. Such was the way of the Force.

Lalasko furrowed his brow.

"Things have certanly changed, it seems." He smiled. "Perhapse I can still be of assistence? I've learned many things from listening to bar patrons for the past 4 years; maybe I can supply you with some information." He narrowed his eye slightly and lowered his voice even more. "Its the least I could do for an old friend."

"A hired killer?" Nadira asked quietly. "No, she is more than that. Darker than that."

She looked across the room at the other woman thoughtfully. "She doesn't care who dies. If she attacks, we're all targets."

Raphael: That may be... if she is devout enough, she shall not turn from her path... Her employer is powerful, I am willing to wager... *Sighs* If it weren't for this sandstorm, I would have vacated this place immediately. I do not wish to use violence on anyone or anything...

*Raphael's thoughts are elsewhere though.*

Raphael: An assassin... but not a hired one. One who is learning. One who is being taught. But not the arts of killing... no, a much darker art. This does complicate matters... But why is she here? Likely for someone in hiding...

Smiling a little too innocently, she shrugged and played with her glass of ale. It was actually quite pretty, the light colour, the texture as it flowed in the glass . . . the way it sparkled even with the meagre light. She downed it in one go. And hell, it tasted good too.

"My Master would like to see someone dead. Someone on Tatooine. Hiding. Unknown. That's all he said. I guess I figured it was a nobody, but now, they could be hiding in fear because they know something." She shrugged and demanded another ale. "I could be speculating though. In fact, I am. Now, who do you know that is hiding and unknown." She arched a brow with a genuine impish grin. "Kinda defeats the purpose of being hiding and unknown, doesn't it? Guess my Master wants me to use my brain or something." Rolling her eyes, she gulped at the ale set down beside her. The waitress was rather efficient, even with all these mewling fools. Then again, for some reason Nalaen always got good service.

She also knew that under different circumstances that talking about a mission and a mark was folly and could see her dead. But this was a bit different. The circumstances had changed. This was a bizarre mission and she was stuck in some dingy cantina with no idea what to do and someone prodding her for information. Which she didn't have. And plus, if things got bad, she could just clean the place up, Sith style. A mass slaughter was never out of reason, to her at least.

Glancing around for the hell of it, she noticed some eyes darting away from her. Well, at least her very presence could work some form of fear. Ah, what did it matter. She'd find her mark and only use the Force to hunt him -- or her for that matter -- down if she had to.

*Stryke did not like this situation. He was used to being the one making all of the moves. He felt cold and angry. Even if that dark woman was not here for Nadira or himself, whatever she did would affect him as he was stuck in this cantina. He knew such emotions would easily be sensed by any force-user, but he did not care at that point. He did not fear the Dark Side, he embraced it. Perhaps sensing that alone would keep the woman from making any foolish moves. He silently unhooked his lightsaber from his belt, but kept it concealed under the table, held in his hand. Then he watched, waiting. He vowed to himself that if she was here for him or Nadira, he would not let her leave alive as long as he still lived himself.

He then whispered quickly to his companions
"Hopefully she will not do anything foolish, I would have to have to end the life of yet another being, especially one so lovely as she."

It was almost tangy sweet with a comforting sense of violence. She loved the way fear and anger tasted on the air, smelt as it wafted past her. The sense of darkness cloaking her more snuggly and lovingly than her favouite robe or the feel of her beloved sabre in her palm. A warm wash went through her as the Dark Side flowed from this dark stranger. It felt glorious.

He was worried. She smirked slightly, sipping at yet another ale. Her eyes drifted to Lalasko, wondering about that patch. How had he lost his eye? Had she known him before then or after? Why couldn't she remember. Her head lolled as she stared down in her drink. Oh yeah . . . Master said she and booze did not mix.

She hiccuped, eyes darting back to the dark one. Her head cocked slightly in animal-like curiosity. Was he hiding something under the table? Was it her overactive imagination? But . . . her instincts and senses were usually right. The bigger question: did it matter. Only a fool with a death wish and a desire to see many die would attack her.

It swirled around him, unbridled. Her lip twitched. That was odd. He didn't seem to be Sith, and yet . . . he was nearly as comfortable in the purity of darkness as she was. Interesting. But not a threat. Bystanders meant nothing to her. She would do her job (if she could ever figure it out) kill the one who needed to die (and perhaps others on her own whim) and leave this Gods forsaken heck hole.

And he's confident. Another thing she found interesting. Perhaps overconfident? Reaching out with the Force, not caring if he noticed -- after all, what would he do, attack her? -- she determined his confidence wasn't the product of idle daydreams. He deserved that confidence. Well, score one for him.

The tendrils of the Force faded as she lost interest in him. She didn't think he was the one she needed to kill.

Looking to Lalasko, she muttered, "It's a politically driven mark. Sit and tell me all the things you know that are going on here. Everyone with political ties, who have any say in some sort of government, anything like that." From now she was drinking some sort of juice. The effects of alcohol she had been feeling seemed to disappear, now that she didn't allow herself to feel them. She had other things to do. Something she had sensed on the man triggered an idea. Someone disagreed with a Sith Lord and that meant something political, because this wasn't an internal squabble. So she was looking for someone dealing in politics. But that could mean a lot of people to sort through.

Still, it was a beginning.

*Stryke continued to watch the woman. He had read her lips clearly, her mark was politically driven. He chuckled to himself and put his saber back onto his belt for the time being. She was not ready to make her move and she was not even sure of who her target was. Apparently she did not think it was him, which allowed him to relax a bit. Then he spoke in a manner just loud enough for her to pick out among the various other conversations in the cantina.

"She acts like an amateur, not even sure of why she is here-it is quite amusing."

He found this situation humorous and hoped the Dark Woman did not anger easily, assuming she had heard him at all. Then, he decided what he was going to do next and whispered to Nadira and Quietstorm.

"I shall be back in a moment. I do not think she knows exactly who her target is and hopefully it is not one of us. I am going to see if I can learn anything useful."

Jerod then stood up and walked towards the Dark Woman. He approached her quickly, though without causing her to feel threatened. He then bowed before her, smiled and then spoke in a friendly, yet slightly sarcastic tone:

"Greetings my friend. You seem to be looking for someone, need any help?"

"Impulsive," Nadira muttered, smiling slightly as Stryke left the table. "And yet, his impulsiveness saved my life in the past."

She turned to watch as he approached the other table. Her hand went subconsciously to her lightsaber as she watched.

In a split second she had her sabre hilt in her hand, one end against the dark man's stomach. She was pretty sure that no one could see this move, but on the other hand, she didn't really care. Her eyes flashed with anger as she glowered up at him.

"Amateur?" she growled, knowing that it was best to be underestimated and was probably why she wasn't given information to start with -- that way people wouldn't care about giving her information if they thought she was just some stupid girl -- but still, it really goaded her to see it working so well. "You'd do well friend to not insult a Sith then walk up and pretend you did nothing. You have the attitude of a woman; stab people in the back and go on like nothing happened. If you want to live, walk away now. You aren't my mark and I don't feel like slaughtering a whole cantina at the moment. It takes too much effort."

Her voice stayed low as she snarled at the man. "But who are you to question the motives or actions of my Master? I could just kill everyone I see: eventually, I'd get the mark right. And mass slaughtering this wasteland of a planet would greatly amuse my Master. Would you like to see it?"

Perhaps she had played it too casual. She really hadn't thought that any of them would have the guts to approach her. Didn't they feel fear? Or was her aloofness so offputting that she seemed like a brat?

*Stryke was not surprised by the woman's actions. He chuckled with an evil grin as she put her saber against him.

"Put your saber away, there no need to cause a scene. Such scare tactics may work on civilians and Jedi, but sadly I am not one of those. You may want to consider being less arrogant, for that will be your undoing if you are not careful. Confidence is one thing, but blind arrogance is foolish. Had I wanted to, I could have sliced your saber in half before it even left your belt. I know you are not an amateur, for an amateur would not be sent on such a mission without knowing his or her mark. I merely wanted to gain your attention so I would not surprise you by approaching-that is why I spoke clearly enough for you to hear. Besides, someone of your talents most likely would not need to hear what I said anyways. You seem to be looking for someone, and after reading what you said earlier, it is a political target. I was just curious if you had any information beyond that since I am also after a certain....target and maybe I could help you since I have been on Tatooine already for a while watching certain people. Now, if you do not wish to play nice, I will return to my table. However, regardless of your decision, I suggest you put your saber away before it is added to my collection."

Jerod then looked at her with an evil glare, obviously not at all bothered by the fact that the woman had her lightsaber held to his gut. Part of his old self had come back, and he was a timebomb waiting to explode. He was not going to hesitate if he had to take action...

She threw her head back and howled with laughter. Still laughing, she slipped her sabre back onto her belt. Ignoring his comments about her overconfidence -- she wasn't, she knew her limits, but she wouldn't bother making a scene over that -- she instead mulled over what he had said.

"You are arrogant as well, thinking you can best me so easily," she said, almost teasingly. "Now, why the hell would you want to help a Sith? Hm? You aren't Jedi, you aren't civilian, so what are you?"

This dark one was confusing her greatly. Not in the way to befuddle her, but in such a way that she didn't get him. For the moment, he wasn't a threat. She would know the second that happened. But what, she demanded of herself as she kept her face completely impassive, were his modivations? She knew he had them, probably had a second agenda to helping -- he wanted her information, but why? It wasn't the same target, he wasn't the target . . .

She would just mind her words. Though she didn't really have any words to mind.

*Jerod listened as she spoke. She apparently had expected him to back down and when he did not, she most likely had interest in why he was there to lower her saber. His anger died down and he felt quite a bit better than he had before.

"Well, m'lady, I am not much more than a well-trained assassin. I am one who is sent when they want a Jedi or Sith or other difficult target taken care of. With that said, I came here to kill a former Jedi, nothing directly involved with your mission I think. As I said before, I had seen you speaking and could tell what you had said about needing information and simply offered my knowledge as a resource. If all you know is that it is a political target, that could describe a few people and I cannot be of much assistance. However, if you know what the person did to become such a target or how they got here, I may be able to help. Consider it a gesture from one hunter to another."

With that, he quickly glanced back towards Nadira so that the Sith would not notice. Hopefully he could help her somehow to atone for past actions.

Nalaen didn't so much see the glance as sense the shift in his mind and emotions. Oh, he was very good. She could easily see why he could hunt down the more . . . dangerous targets. A paranoid thought struck her, but she shook it away. She wasn't a target and he wasn't after her. It would have taken her all of a nanosecond to figure if she was being hunted.

He liked that girl, didn't he? Who was she, to have men fawning all over her? Poor thing, all these stupid hormonal brutes vying for her attentions . . .

"Look, I've spoken too much. Then again, it's not much of a stretch to say that a Sith is going to kill someone." She sighed heavily. "I'm sure my target is male. He lives out on his own. Hiding probably. And my Master wants him dead. He did something to disrupt some council that was benifiting the Sith. That's all I can figure." She sensed some softness from him. "If you have a problem with me killing someone and get in my way to prevent it, I will cut you down. And no, my target is not your precious Jedi. If I was to kill a force-sensitive or -user, I would be using a hell of a lot more discression."

Lalasko had retreated to observe the confrontation from a safe distance. He had done it casually, but he was nervous. Not because of the dangers that lurked here, but because of his willingness to show emotion Nalaen. Seeing her brought back memories and emotions that he had done his best to mask. He didn't want to forget, but its wasn't convenient to slip back to old ways at this time.

As the two Sith spoke, he quietly removed himself from the room, entering the refresher at the back of the bar. It was dank, and quite disgusting, but it suited his purpose. Leaning up against the wall, he closed his eyes a thought, going over all he had heard so far from the patrons. He removed a small datapad from his cowl, and recorded what he knew.

Lalasko emerged from the shadows, acting as though he never left, watching this "Stryke" and Nalaen as they finished sparring.

Nalaen was saying: "If I was to kill a force-sensitive or -user, I would be using a hell of a lot more discression."

He restrained a chuckle, then resumed his position next to his table.

"Are you quite done?" He asked her.

Nalaen smiled up at Lalasko and tapped her lowerlip with her finger a few times.

"Yes, I suppose so. Why? Something important you need to . . . do?" Cracking a grin, she turned her attention briefly to the dark one by her, always aware of her surroundings and the fickle moods of living creatures, then back to Lalasko. Why, hadn't she become the popular little Sith girl? This was definately odd. Well, it was no big deal. She may be anti-social, but it wasn't exactly like she was dealing with goodie-goodies here. Lalasko, she knew quite well. Perhaps a bit too well for some sensibilities. And the dark one was like her in some ways, and didn't make her ill to be around.

Had her Master sensed these events? Had he known she would be stuck on the hell hole? Ah well. At least she could get some information and go more directly to her mark, rather than wandering around for months to try and find his little dump.

*Jerod Stryke smiled one last time and then spoke. Part of what he said was a lie and partly the truth, in either case, he hid it well so that the Sith was unable to notice.

"Well, as for the girl you are thinking about, she is the target I was sent for so do not make assumptions so quickly. As for your target, I am only aware of a few people who seem like that type in here today. Most of the people here are locals just seeking shelter from a storm. One of those people is the watchman at the door, by what I have heard he is new. Another is the man in the Mandalorian armor. The third is someone I just met a few moments ago ironically enough. Hope that helps. Try not to make a mess before I leave."

He then smiled and bowed before Nalaen and Lalasko and returned to his table, resuming his conversation from before. He spoke quietly and casually as to not give away what he was saying.

"Well, unless she is a really good liar, she is not after you, Nadira. Quietstorm, however, may be a different story. All she knows is that her target is male, out on his own, and did something to severely annoy the Sith. You have not done anything to anger the Sith have you? I came all this way to avoid killing anyone today, I would have to get into a mess now."

"That description reminds me of Adar," Nadira said quietly. "He was involved with the Sith for a short time." She looked around. "But he is not..." she stopped as another person entered the cantina. Falling suddenly silent, Nadira seemed to shrink into her black cloak.

"He is here," she whispered. There was a trace of fear in her voice. She knew he could be there for only one reason. He knew of Stryke's failure and had come to kill them both.

"Excuse me," Adar said, approaching the bar. "I'm looking for a woman. She looks like this."

"Our patrons are safe from the prying eyes of people such as you," the bartender spat. "Take your troubles elsewhere."

Adar glared at him and took a seat near Nalaen. He ignored everybody in the room, closing his eyes and seeming to search for someone through the Force.

*Stryke did not like what he saw. Adar was here and there was no way out without him knowing. He felt anger rising in him again.

"Well, I guess this is it."

Stryke quietly took his saber from his belt and held it in-hand.

"He is going to pay for the pain he has caused to me and all of the people who have died because of him."...

Adar's quick eyes caught Stryke's movement and he turned. With a grin, he recognized the man he'd hired to kill Nadira. He wondered if Nadira was nearby as well. He glanced over the others at the table and his eyes came to rest on the formless black shape seated across from Stryke.

"Hello, Nadira," he whispered to himself. "You're hiding with your failure of a killer and... who's he?" Adar had begun to stand, but he abruptly sat down again, for the first time catching sight of Quietstorm.

"I don't know who you are," he whispered to himself. "Are you dangerous? Yes, of course you are. Does Nadira think she can find protection from me? I have betrayed the Sith in my past. I know how they work. I know how the Jedi work. I've betrayed them as well."

"Hello, Nadira," he whispered again, turning his attention once more to the formless shape he knew was his target. "Do you think you are safe? I betrayed you once. Do not think your friends know you better than I do. They cannot protect you from me."

With this said, he leaned back in his chair and glanced at Nalaen. He grinned again and looked away.

"Hello, Sith," he whispered. "Hello, oh my silent enemy who wishes to kill me. How many places have your masters sent you? And now you find me here, stalking my own prey. Do you think you will defeat me? I betrayed your kind once. They cannot be happy. I know their ways. I know your ways."

He ordered a drink and watched the two tables intensely.


((And, yes, Adar is talking to himself... sort of a strange character, isn't he?:p ))

Lalasko smiled the man off, then turned back to his host, the smile evaporating. He was himself again, and it was time to focus on the task at hand.

"Now, you asked me for information about the politics I've learned in here." He blinked. "The law is not enforced here. The hutts control Tatooine. This you know." He leaned in, so as to keep the other patrons from hearing. "You may also know that the Exchange uses this place as a trade cashe. A checkpoint."
He chuckled, but there was no humor in his laugh. "I learned that dirty little secret the hard way," he said, adjusting his patch. "Pirates often cash in here, trading off looted goods for weapons and credits. Its possible that your mark attacked a Sith craft, and "your master" is out to settle a score."
He shifted his head.
"If Sith do such things, that is."

Lalasko's eye roved to the source of a quiet sound. A man was talking to himself, under his breath. Barely a whisper. But it was there, a current of threats and plans. Lalasko smirked.

"He knows I am here", Stryke said under his breath.
"And he knows you are here as well. Things could get messy here, especially with that Sith woman. She is not going to be happy when I kill Adar."

He then wondered if that was what Nadira wanted. Perhaps she did not want him dead, merely captive. Perhaps she wanted to kill him herself. He hope this was not the case, he wanted vengeance.

"You do want me to kill him, right?"

"Not yet," Nadira said quietly. "Let him make his move first. If he doesn't make one, we'll leave and make sure he can't follow us to Oren's ship."

(((Geez, I'm off the computer for like, 4 hours and damn things progressed O_O)))

Nalaen smiled up at Lalasko and patted his cheek with her open palm.

"Ah, but my quarry is here and thinks he can best me. I love a smug mark. The expression in their eyes as they're cut down, the horror sparkling in their eye as that twinkle of control fades away. When they realise they're truly the prey, and have been their whole lives. That they've lived a lie: they created a false control over others in hopes that they can establish it as real. But they know that it's always been a house of cards, that no matter how many loose ends they tie up, just more will unravel." She smiled again, not caring how her prey thought. It was an odd move for her, but there were three other people who wanted him gone -- that she could sense.

Well, it looked like she may have to get into business with the others here. After all, her Master wanted this man dead: he didn't specify how or with whom.

Turning, she looked right at Adar and studied him. He said he knew the way the Sith worked. He knew who she was so she didn't care about him noticing her scrutiny. But he made one fundamental mistake. He knew the Sith ways. He did not know hers. And to kill this man whom she already intensely loathed, she would kill anyone to get to him. It did not matter whom he used as a human shield, who he threw in her way, how far he ran, she would hunt him down like some wild animal. The wild animals she grew up tracking. She could stalk an animal for weeks. And it made the killing and feeding of the blood to her ancestors just that much sweeter.

Nalaen's attention had been drawn to the man Lalasko had breifly studied.

He turned to Nalaen;
"That is all the info I can provide, I'm afraid. Good luck with your...project." He nodded his head. "I'll leave you alone now."
After taking a few steps, he turned breifly. "Nice to see you again," he said with the hint of a smirk.

As he returned to his small table in the shadows of the cantina, he grinned, a wide, evil grin. But only for a second. It vanished as soon as it came, and Lalasko sat, watching the strange man that Nalaen now observed. His eye widened as he saw who the man was. "No" he whispered, in disbelief. Things had just grown more complex.

((I'm growing more and more amused at how well known Adar is:) ))


Adar watched in silence. He began to wonder who he should kill first. Nadira? Stryke? The Sith woman? There were too many possibilities. He didn't like it. If he attacked one, all the others might attack him. That would not do. No, he'd have to wait, wait until they were more separated.

She found Adar's thoughts ever so amusing. Propping her arms on the back of her chair, she rested her chin on them, staring at him. He was an amusing subject. So often did she kill people who were strictly full of fear from her. Although that was a compliment that she could strike fear into their hearts just by standing a few feet away, this was more interesting. He was actually trying to assess the situation and create a strategy from it. Fascinating. Of course, he didn't realise that he had absolutely no hope, no matter how smart or powerful he considered himself.

You just don't screw the Sith. It should be in the fineprint, really. For if she didn't kill him, someone else would. He was doomed. And the Sith loved holding a grudge. Look how long they've hated the Jedi for. He could run for centuries and he'd still be at the top of the Sith to-do list. If he wanted to run, fine. She would track him. And if worse came to worse, she would enlist help of others. Perhaps not even other Sith: the others in this cantina who wanted him dead. It would be prudent to work with them. They all wanted the same goal. No point in arguing and fighting amongst each other while the real prey escaped.

Glancing at the others for a split second, fast enough for only a Force-user or Force-adept to notice, she hoped that one of the three had caught her flickering look. They needed to come up with something without Adar noticing. They could circle him, leaving no room for escape. And the others here would probably be curious as to what was going on, so they'd bunch up and finish the wall of bodies, all around. Of course, that was one option of many.

So she returned to studying him, wondering what exactly she would do.

Lalasko grimly analysed the situation. He forsaw several possible courses of action. 1: Throw a stun grenade into the lot of them, then grad Adar and brave the storm (this was the least likely to happed, and the most risky). 2: Let the others attack, then once they leave try to heal Adar enough to get him to a life support system (possible, but unlikely. Sith brutality is a very fatal thing). 3: Let Adar die. Deal with the consequences on a later date (Lalasko was leaning towards this option, though he didn't like what it meant).

Lalasko's comm unit vibrated against his belt. He lowered the volume, then accepted the transmission.

"Speak." He whispered into the comm.

"There's been a change."

"Oh?"

"The third benifactor is out of the loop."

Lalasko's eyes widened. Could this be some luck at last?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Make the adjustments."

The transmission ended. Lalasko sat back, resigned. "Chackmate, Adar. You had me worried for a moment," he whispered.

*Jerod Stryke watched Adar. He wondered why Adar was here so soon. As far as Adar knew, he was waiting for the right time to kill Nadira. It then dawned on him; Adar was going to kill him either way. Adar probably had planned for Stryke to be here and kill Nadira and then he would kill Stryke as well as the Sith who he probably knew was hunting him. And if Stryke did not kill Nadira, he would simply kill her as well. Which also meant another thing. Adar was not stupid, attacking a former Jedi, a Sith, and his best assassin-he would have help.

"He is not alone-he had to have someone on the inside to tell him when the whole setup was ready and to help him when he strikes. How else would he know that we were all here at the same time? And he probably knew the Sith wanted him dead, he would not be here without backup. Someone who was already here before Adar arrived was looking for us and will attack when the time is right."

And Stryke had a feeling he knew who that someone was...

Even before the dark one had thought of anything, she already knew who the inside man was. And she was mad. It made her smile and almost laugh. Oh, that silly, silly Lalasko. Did he think it was smart betraying her? For betrayal was what made her most angry. And anger fueled the dark side. So, they thought that they were set up neatly. For now, she would play along, thinking that they had them in checkmate. But this little pawn was really a queen in disguise and could move wherever the hell she wanted.

But if this was a set up, what was it for? So many of Adar's enemies were in place . . . How could he hope to take them on in a crowded -- her thoughts stopped short. Backup. Oh hells. He had backup. But against an assassin touched with the Force, a Jedi (she was sure), a Mandalorian and a Sith Assassin? His backups were in for a rough, ROUGH ride.

Still, this was one of those missions where she sorely wished her Master had come along. But he had stopped doing that as she was a "big girl now", he had once said snidely. Oh Gods oh Gods oh Gods. Was this that fear that she had been taught about? She had never felt it like this before. Usually she basked in the fear of others . . . But fear was her ally.

Her eyes darted once more to the small group of now-allies. Whether they wanted to or not, they were in this together. And no matter what tortures or information they wanted from Adar, it would be a foolish idea to try. With enemies like this, it was best to kill them fast and thoroughly.

Now it was time to pick out his helpers. Once she had figured the whole play out, she was able to sense them much easier. Their pulses had increased by half a heartbeat or so, their temperatures rising by a few degrees. The ones who were excited and suppressing their anticipation: those were the ones who she had to watch out for. A normal warrior is always excited by the kill, so they would be tough pressed to keep themselves completely calm. Perhaps to a normal viewer they would seem to be normal patrons of this cantina . . . but she wasn't normal. She was Sith.

This really had been a test from her Master . . . she knew he knew all along what was going to happen. From the others here, to Lalasko, to the sandstorm . . . Amazing how the Force worked . . .

*Jerod Stryke pondered for a moment. He wondered just how many of the people in that cantina were there to help Adar. He was quite resourceful and while he was quite a skilled fighter, he prefered to let others kill for him. Who else could it be? The man in the Mandalorian armor perhaps? He did not think Quietstorm was involved and sensed no deception from him, yet his being here also seemed rather convinient. The one-eyed man seemed to react as if he expected Adar to be there as well. Could Nadira have made a deal with Adar for her life to be spared? His only sure ally seemed to be a Sith, not exactly the ideal situation. He wanted answers-he was not used to waiting for his enemies to make their move. Stryke stood quickly as his chair fell over, his lightsaber hilt in-hand. He spoke with a raised voice, ignoring the others in the cantina staring at him.

"So Nadira, you do not seemed to be bothered by Adar's sudden appearance. Why do you want to wait for him to strike? You did not seem to be surprised to see me here and you came up to me rather openly, knowing who I was. Were you expecting me? Did you work out a deal with Adar to save your own skin? And your friend Quietstorm, perhaps a hired killer? Perhaps I should have remained with the Sith at her table, it seems she would be a better ally..."

*With that, he looked deep into Nadira's eyes, seeking the truth.

((This is getting interesting :D))

Lalasko was lost in his own thoughts. With the third benefactor out of the loop, Adar needed to live. But only long enough to validate the transaction: the final step of the deal. Adar was outnumbered, and he knew it. Why was he so confident? Did he expect Lalasko to bail him out? He wasn’t that stupid. He had gotten Adar this far, and it had been bloody hard. But he was not interested in giving his life to the cause. And even if he was, the Exchange wouldn’t let him go. Did he have more men outside, in the storm? It didn’t matter. He had to get the signature. Now.

Lalasko stood, sighing. He made his way along the dark edge of the cantina wall, until he was parallel to Adar. Clamly walking up to him, he sat, trying to ignore the silence that Stryke’s outburst had ushered in.

“The third benefactor is out, Adar. Timetables have been accelerated. I need the signature from you. He placed the datapad on the table. “Or the deal dies with you, in this cantina.”

Adar gave a low hiss of annoyance.

"Out as in dead?" he demanded quietly. Then, without another word, he signed the datapad. Standing quietly, he got up and moved for the door. Lalasko's timing had thrown him off and it was time to leave.

Once Adar moved, Nalaen's leg twitched. When she sensed his intentions, she slid out of her chair. She felt like a shadow, drifting through everyone, until she reached the door. It seemed such a short time to traverse the area that she wondered momentarily if she had used the Force to speed her movements out of instinct. Interesting development.

She wasn't going to let Adar leave. Her sabre was in her hand; how, she didn't know: like her movements, it just happened. Body and mind were on automatic. Her prey thought it had found an emergency escape in the trap. But hopefully, it was only the last desperate hopes of a dead man.

The crimson blades extended on either side of her as Adar approached. He was not leaving this place outside of a bodybag.

Lalasko ducked. He tried to make it subtile, but utimately failed at this. Fighting in the inevitable battle that was about to transpire would only indanger the survival of Adar's signature, and Lalasko knew he had to get out one way or another. He clutched the datapad in one arm, and readied his quarterstaff in the other. Hopefully, he would not need it...

*Stryke watched the events unfold. He was still not sure of whom to trust. The time to act, however, was now.

"Well, I guess I am about to learn the truth."

*He then activated his lightsaber and the bright yellow blade extended as he moved toward Adar...

OOC: BLARGH! School caught up with me... Anyone mind filling me in on what happened, and/or introduce me?

((OOC: Our current story involving Adar is at its climax right now. Might as well just read it from the last point you posted since a lot has happened.))

Now was the time to strike. Finally this chase would be coming to an end. Quite an interesting little game she had taken part in; her Master had to have had some hand in this. But that was for reflection later, when the job was done. Her eyes met Adar's. She was staring into the soul of a dead man.

A flicker of the Force gripped her guts and wrenched them ever so slightly. So, the one who betrayed, Lalasko, was on the move. What he was going to do, she didn't know. She cared, but merely for the fact that he could be dangerous. Though she could go after him, that would mean Adar went free. And even if her emotions told her to slaughter him, she had a job to do. Adar was her first priority: until he was dead, she saw and felt nothing else.

The dark one got up. Without moving her eyes, she expanded her view to watch him. A yellow sabre flickered then hummed to life. So, he could use the weapon of a Jedi. Usually that would leave a bad taste in her mouth, but this wasn't a normal day. She would be glad for the help, no matter who was offering it. Adar was one slippery corpse indeed. She hoped that she was able to convey approval to the dark one, and the desire to join in battle with him. Her Master would ask, she knew, if she killed her quarry, and she would answer honestly, that she had help. If she ever got to explain herself would be another question.

But it did not matter. Adar was going to die, one way or another. That's what she had been sent out here to do, and that's what she would see done. If she had the whole cantina gang up on him, then fine. As long as he was dead.

Nadira stood slowly and approached Adar, drawing her blue lightsaber as well.

"He is to be mine," she said quietly. "He has taken my throne, my life, my family."

She turned to Adar and said, "This didn't turn out quite like you planned, did it?"

"Lachlan will take over in my place," Adar said, his chin held high. "You will never return to rule your planet."

"You should not have said that," Nadira scolded softly. "In hearing Lachlan's name, my new companions will have yet another man to chase once you are gone."

"He will kill you all!" Adar screamed. Nadira glanced at Nalaen.

"Toss him away from the door and stand between him and it," she said. "This fight is to be between Adar and me. The rest of you, find any other ways he might escape and guard them."

Adar put his hands up to his shoulders as if in defense. He didn't exactly like the idea of getting tossed around by a Sith, let alone a female Sith.