spiderparlour | The saga begins!

The saga begins!

"You sure you're gonna be okay?"

"I've only been captured here once," he replied, fastening the outer layer of his robes. Light enough to move in, armored enough to give him some protection. And, of course, the right color palette to complement both his and Vette's skin tones. "And besides, I managed to get out of that one."

"And who made that happen?" she punctuated the question with a little 'ta-da!' gesture with her lekku towards herself.

"Both of us, but mostly you." It'd been early on, when he was still finding his footing. It was lucky he'd survived with only a broken nose. "And you are going to be saving me again, by getting that information I need."

Vette sighed, frowning as she glanced down to check the straps on one of her pistol holsters. Neither of them really wanted to be here right now, but it was the best place to collect information on Darth Baras' plans. Which, they both suspected, included killing him. "For the record, your boss is stupid and sith are bad at life."

"I couldn't agree more."

"Agreeing with me so much makes arguing hard, you know."

"You're so right about that."

"Ugh!" She poked him in the stomach with a sheathed knife before sliding it into her boot. "I mean it though, be careful. And if you do anything funny, save me a holo, okay?"

"I will be." Baras had agents on all sides--he knew that well enough, he'd been sent to kill several of them before. He'd be traveling into dangerous territory for a Sith today. "And I'll give you a call to listen in if I can."

"Great!" she chirped. "Oh! And if you see any of those--"

"Of course I'm buying the cheesy puffs, I want those too."

She threw her hands up in mock exasperation. "Then what are you waiting for? Go give 'em hell and get us some puffs!"

"Hell and puffs, as you command," he grinned, leaning down to give her a kiss. "I'll see you later."

They left the ship and went their separate ways, Vette off to check in with her old gang, and he took a route towards the Nikto Sector. The gangs there were territorial, but that wasn't the real worry. He was using the sector as a means to approach Republic-aligned districts nearby, and there was a distinct chance an SIS listening post would pick him up anyway. He had some valid excuses for being there, but it likely wouldn't make a difference in the Republic's thinking.

Besides, he wanted them to see him. He had his own allies on Nar Shaddaa, and they'd be watching what happened, and who reported back to Baras.

So. All he had to do was walk towards enemy territory.

And buy some cheesy puffs.

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He leaned in slightly closer to the Jedi in return, giving him a coy smile. Really? That was his best attempt?

"I agree. Hopefully there will still be something of use."

There wasn't, really. It was gutted, far more thoroughly than the labs had been. They'd had more time to cover their tracks here. Even with one of those helpful little pocket droids he'd picked up during the Hammer Station operation, he couldn't find any listening devices or computer terminals left behind. Either they'd been thorough, or scavengers had picked the place completely clean.

"They were here," he eventually announces, "The layout is similar to the last one I saw. But they didn't leave anything of value this time." He stretched, arching his back a little after spending the past half hour or more bent over to examine the mess.

"Well. That's all. I think I'm going to take a break at that club down the street. Care to join me?"

Since becoming a Jedi Knight, Saga discovered that the rest of the galaxy caould be just as boring as a Jedi Temple. Take this place, for example: He was here with a Sith, an enemy, and yet all he'd been doing for half an hour was dig through worthless junk. Neither of them had come up with anything at all, aside from a small toy figure that someone had left on a desk. He held it up a little curiously. He couldn't recognize what it was of, but at least it was more interesting than the dust he'd found it in.

"Clubbing? Seriously?" He looked up. "Have you ever seen a Jedi in a club?"

Not that he wasn't curious. But this guy was toying with him, for sure, laughing at his expense. He was underestimating him. "I didn't follow you here because I want to spend time with you."

"True, but I've never been to a Republic club. It would be rude to assume, wouldn't it?" he grinned. "There's no emergency here, and I don't have any assignments right now. I think it's the perfect time to take a break." Really, he'd prefer if Vette was here instead. But she'd find this hilarious once she found out, so why not?

Speaking of, he should stealthily turn on his commlink, volume all the way down. Just to check in. "So, Jedi in tow or not, I'm going to the club. You can always say you're protecting the other patrons from me."

Saga didn't immediately answer. He kicked a pile of rubbish over instead, even though he'd already gone through it, and he knew there was nothing to find. "I have a few assignments," he said, finally. Though considering the time it was now, they would probably have to wait until the next day anyway. Still, he was a busy man.

"What's your name, Sith?" The polite thing to do would be to introduce himself first, but he wasn't in the mood for manners. He needed information. "And why would you want to spend time with a Jedi?"

Oh, look how clever he thought he was, not answering the question directly. That was cute. "I'm sure you do." And he was sure those assignments were very important.

"Rejalgar ha'Khorata." It had previously been just Khorata, but getting disowned for an unauthorized murder of a cousin meant that he got a special little prefix that basically meant 'used to be', or 'they hate me now, but...'

"And I haven't a single clue what your name is either, so why don't you tell me?"

Saga tilted his head slightly. "So even your family doesn't like you much."

It wasn't much of an insult - if he introduced himself that way so casually, he probably didn't care - but he still got the feeling he was being laughed at, and it was making him bristle. He knew he was supposed to be above it, but he still wanted a way to get under this guy's skin.

"Saganor." He made a slight bow, mostly out of habit. "Remember it."

"They most certainly don't," he agreed cheerfully. "Especially not after what happened to Syrron."

Yes, he was going to make the Jedi ask about that if he wanted to know more.

"Well then, Saganor," he also bowed, because it would keep things confusing for the Jedi. "I'm going to start walking towards the club, and you're welcome to join me.

"Do I want to know what happened to Syrron?" Saga asked. He was being dragged into further conversation and he knew it, but if he left now, he knew he wouldn't be able to let this encounter go. So when Rejalgar started walking, he followed.

He fell into step next to him, tilting his head to look up in his direction. "On second thought, don't tell me. You're a Sith. I can guess."

"If it makes you feel better, he thoroughly deserved being crushed to death by that ceiling," he explained anyway.

"He was a terrible cousin."

"I'm sure he did, if he was Sith as well." Another thing a Jedi shouldn't say, but he's saying it anyway. At least Rejalgar is showing slightly more appropriate behavior now, since he's talking about murder. "And yet you're not supposed to kill family."

"I'll spare you the entire tragic backstory, but we weren't actually family, as he was always quick to point out. I was a bastard they found too late to openly disown without an excuse, but too early to ever love." So really, he'd been helping them.

No, not really, he was happy to make their lives hell just by the sheer fact that he was out of jail now. "I'm sure that technicality makes it righteous and proper, doesn't it?" He didn't like talking about this, and so the encroaching sensation of the club was a welcome distraction. He could feel the people inside just as clearly as he could hear the bass that was filtering out through the door. It was absolutely blaring emotions and passion.

And if the Jedi was paying attention to his senses, he'd feel it too. "I think I like this place," he declared, as they approached the massive herglic bouncer.

"No weapons," the bouncer grunted. That was adorable, and absolutely was not going to stand in his way.

"We're harmless," he said, vaguely waving a hand in their direction as he fished out a credit chip from a pocket of his robes.

"Yeah," the bouncer said, taking the chip. "You're harmless. Go on through."

Look, if he was going to mind trick the poor thing, he could at the very least make it look like a bribe instead.

Saga probably would have kept pushing. He still wanted to, because he was curious about this Sith who refused to attack him, and he definitely wanted to figure out how to get to him, get back at him. And a good Jedi should always strive to understand their enemies.

But the club caught his attention as they approached. He'd been slowly adjusting to being away from the quiet of the Jedi temple, and the daily life he was used to, but this... This was its stark opposite. Even standing outside, it felt like everything a Jedi wasn't. He pushed past Rejalgar, and didn't comment on the mind trick.

"Now I understand why you wanted to go here," he said, glancing back at Rejalgar. He knew he should turn back, but he was too curious. Besides, he had to get used to places like this, too.

"Clubs can be fantastic if they've got the right scene," he raised his voice a little as the music grew louder--something with a dirty-sounding synth line and lyrics he couldn't understand. No clue what it was, but he liked it. "A sith who can control themselves can have an excellent time in a place like this." Back at home, he'd gotten his start in the down-city clubs and illegal raves that set up in warehouses in the outskirts, rather than the expensive and no-aliens places his half-siblings and cousins went to. So to him, this one on Nar Shaddaa felt familiar.

"I had an ulterior motive, though," he leaned in closer so the amused note in his voice could be heard. "I want a drink."

Saga tensed a little at how close Rejalgar was getting. The emotions in this place were getting to him. He didn't know if it was bad, exactly, but it was putting him on edge, and Rejalgar wasn't helping. He tried to remember his lessons. Keep your mind empty, let the emotions drift away... He'd never enjoyed those lessons, though.

"Siths don't control themselves," he said, his mind still on lessons, and the many warnings they'd been given. That one had often been aimed at him specifically. "Their power comes from a lack of control."

"'Their power'? Please, if you're going to tell lies about me, at least be up front about it," he laughed, starting to make his way over to the bar, clearing a path through the crowd with broad shoulders and a little telekinetic push.

"Unrestrained power is undirected power. It's less effective, there's more blowback on the user, and there's a risk of burnout at least as bad as a Jedi with no effective emotional release." Yes, that means you.

Saga followed after, falling a step behind, the crowd immediately trying to close up again and nearly pushing him into Rejalgar. At least that made it easier to hear what he was saying, but Saga waited until they actually reached the bar before responding.

"So what's the difference between a Sith and a Jedi, according to you?"

"Sith draw on emotion to access the Force. Current doctrine specifically prizes anger and fear, but I find that to be simplistic," he replied., then shifted his attention for a second to the bartender. "A Scarif Sunrise, please." It was a good drink, not too sweet, packed a punch, and the fact that it glowed was always fun.

Where was he? Oh, right. "And from what I've been told repeatedly by Jedi I've encountered, peace is what Jedi strive for and eliminate emotion in the process." And by the Emperor's second-oldest pair of socks, it got annoying. Somehow each of them seemed to think he didn't know how they did things.

Of course, Saga here didn't seem to be radiating serenity. Which was going to make this interesting. "But I'm sure you've been told something different?"

"Chaos versus control," Saga says, as the easy explanation. There's more to it than that, the old Jedi had spent hours talking about it, but the bartender is looking at him a little impatiently. Saga squints at the menu behind him, but he doesn't really know what any of it is. "I'll have the same as him."

He has no idea what it is, but it's as good as anything, and saves him having to figure out if anything actually sounds good. Problem solved, he looks at Rejalgar again. "It's fear versus serenity, violence versus peace. It's usually described as a dichotomy."

He did pay attention sometimes. He'd wanted to learn, he'd just always been better at practical lessons over theoretical ones.

"You make it sound as if Sith aren't obsessed with control," Rejalgar smirks, leaning against the bar as he waits for the drinks. The Jedi manifestly has no idea what he's just ordered, otherwise he probably would've asked for water. This could get even more interesting.

Come to think of it, if he gives the Jedi vaguely good advice, it could work in his favor. "And a glass of water," he says to the bartender. "You're going to want to pace yourself. That drink's a little strong."

Anyway. The whole Jedi/Sith thing. "It might be in some ways. Dark Jedi certainly treat it that way." They had, as one might say, zero chill. Even less than the average Sith. "But I think it's more complicated."

"It's about method, not about what you want. Obsession leads to a lack of control in your own actions, even if you exert control over others." He couldn't believe he was repeating the words of his teachers like this, teachers he'd argued with, been corrected and chastised by... He'd always been strong, but their corrections had made him doubt himself at times, and he hated it.

The suggestion for water surprised him, but he didn't comment on it. He was sure he could handle it. "Complicated how?"

Because that was more interesting than the black and white world he'd always been told about.

"Mmm, sometimes. Did you ever hear stories about Darth Jadus?" He might be dead now, but gossip and rumor about Dark Councilors took up about 50% of 'serious discussion' in old Sith families, and he'd unfortunately been sober enough to overhear at least some of it, before he got sent to prison. And they--okay, everybody had always seen Jadus as a freak, so of course he got talked about any time he did something in public.

"The Sith Code is stupid in so many ways, but it doesn't say anything about anger or fear, just passion. An emotional attachment of any kind can be a way to harness the Dark Side. I love my work, I love my hobbies, I find the fights I get into exhilarating, and it's all meant I can drop most of the fear-and-anger methods."

And it meant he could openly have a fruity, glowing drink in a club without feeling like he was going to die of anxiety if anyone noticed him enjoying himself. "Thank you," he said to the bartender, taking his glass.

"Thank you," Saga mimicked, lifting the glass to take a cautious sip. It tasted fruity in a vague sort of way, sweet, interesting. He immediately liked it, which at least was a momentary distraction from how frustrated he was otherwise.

He sipped again. "Maybe you're just a bad Sith." It might have come across as a little petulant, because he didn't like being lectured, and he thought he'd escaped that when he left the Jedi Temple. He didn't like that some of this was resonating with him. "What kind of power does having fun get you?"

He'd heard about Darth Jadus, briefly. From what he'd heard, passion wasn't what described him, either. "Maybe you Sith are weaker than you think."

"I don't know, I get told 'Well done, my apprentice' quite a lot," he drawls, only making the vaguest attempt to imitate Baras' voice before taking a long drink. You know, he'd be quite alright with hearing well done, my apprentice for the next hundred years, if Baras wasn't a paranoid fool who was definitely planning on killing him within the next five years at most.

"Turns out, the power of not giving a shit about the establishment is pretty damn strong. It certainly scares the skirts off most Sith." Which was fun. Yes, he wasn't a fan of getting marked for death, but scandalizing the upper class was great.

"Oh, everyone's covering for some failing or another, but that's not unique to us." Isn't that right, extremely frustrated Jedi?

"Do you have a master, or whatever they call themselves over there?"

Saga takes another sip. Then another. He's never had anything like it before, and he's been warned against alcohol often enough that he's curious. Warning him not to do something was always the best way to guarantee he'd want to do it. "Sounds like you'll be making a lot of enemies."

He doubted the Sith appreciated someone not giving a shit about the establishment, just like the Jedi. At least that was one thing they had in common. He didn't comment on the other - He wasn't covering for anything.

"Not anymore. They had nothing left to teach me."

"Oh, that's inevitable with how the Empire runs things. I could play along with the establishment and it wouldn't make me any safer at all."

That statement, though. Wow. He hid his expression behind another drink. Oh, on that note--"Drink some of the water. You'll need it."

Or he had nothing left to teach this tiny egomaniac about booze, maybe. That was apparently a possibility.

The saga begins!

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