Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
Consuming Copious Coopers
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Affiliation: Vegemite and Mandalore
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Post by Kaine Australis on Nov 15, 2020 9:41:55 GMT -8
Kaine forgot all about the smell as the penguin materialised. It got his attention away from both more booze, and the females. Somehow he was transfixed as Chill spoke.
Then the word COOPERS rocked his entire world. Kaine was already charging towards the back in search of the coopers, several stomps got him to the bar. He tried to vault it and instead impacted it before rolling forward, headfirst, arse over tit, crashing down behind the bar in a clatter of plates.
More crashing and bashing ensued before the old bastard came up with a large king brown marked Coopers which was not only still sealed and undrunk, but ice cold. And free. The holy kad damned trifecta.
Kaine raised his prize like a trophy to the air, flicking off the top with his thumb with practiced ease, though it impacted the ceiling above him and pinged back into his eye, drawing a curse. Fortunately for him, the half-burnt scabbard had gone out, though the smell persisted.
TO THE FUTURE! And the old Mando took a long pull. It was as good as promised, as it shabla well would want to be, the Whills provided the best. Kaine couldnt help looking behind himself to check Seraphiel wasn't there with some sort of incandescent cuke-based prank that might explore the idea of turning the Australis Alor's exit hole into his entry hole; not a prospect the old bugger fancied just now with a beer in his hand. Safe; for now.
Kaine thought, which wasn't easy given the amount of alcohol being consumed. His thoughts were of the tournament, so long ago, when he had faced Beasty in one of the fights of a very long career. In this room was the combined hall of all time fucking fame of dueling, a sort of strange family that had formed an unseen bond.
There had to be a method to bring this group together in a somewhat controlled violent fashion, somehow organized by beings with better skill at such things than Kaine Australis.
How, he didn't know. Who was in this Giant Boob with him. When, whenever they shabla well could. The whole idea was to enjoy the process, after all, not have it be a kad damned chore.
He figured if nothing else it could be a laugh.
Then he saw Amy making her entrance. She wore no armour; on the world she'd grown up on, armour wouldn't protect you, only being able to react quickly, move fast, and never, ever, let your guard down. Long story short, the Vong's horrors had turned the planet into a nightmare where survival was only possible within walled and shielded fortresses, and even then the life expectancy was decades below galactic standard owing to the many flora and fauna that could kill. Practiced eyes would be able to pick out the half dozen blades the young woman had secreted upon her person, a warning to any who decided to try pawing the merchandise. She kept them extremely sharp, and was well experienced in their use. On her homeworld, firing a gun or blaster just told the locals where to come and find their dinner. Silence was life, and she had mastered the art of the short blade. In her time off, she liked to dance, it helped keep her in shape, and focused her for the martial combats to come. And it irritated her father, which she also enjoyed, having spotted him heading off alone and decided to follow.
Hello buir, she thought. Now you have to watch all your old friends ogle me. The old boar knew better than to object, she'd offered to cut him in on the act once, and he'd sensibly retreated from the confrontation. She was her own woman and she enjoyed showing that off.
Her strut challenged every male and female in the room; Amy didn't pick and choose. Her ample bosom and well shapely behind bounced appropriately as she favoured the crowd with a smile. Her astromech wheeled in behind her and pulled up near the door. She turned and spoke to the droid.
Skanky, give me something to dance to. The astromech provided the audio, and Amaranth Australis found herself a table, jumped up, and began to dance.
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
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Affiliation: Crew of the Wayward Son
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Post by Adi on Nov 16, 2020 2:16:31 GMT -8
He was just sitting in the corner, puffing on a very fat joint of Endorian, filling the area with acrid smoke. Amid puffs from the large doobie, he was quietly sipping a drink created by one Chanceros Dorath. It was quite the monstrosity, and there were some that would say an outright abomination....but when remembering those fallen in battle, and celebrating their life, there was but one choice.
Blood-n-Thunder.
The Thi'aar was definitely in abundance, and for once, so was the Corellian ale. Adi was posted by a mini-keg of the ale, pouring draft after potent draft, each one getting a shot glass of thi'aar dropped inside. While many would be on their posterior after one or two, Matango had become accustomed to it. He had actually found a very nice amber ale to wash it down with, at least for the first three pints of BnT....but then, only Coopers remained. This was not an appropriate beverage to wash down the glory that was Blood n Thunder.....it was an atrocity!! In his mind, Adi complained loudly....
"Oh this crap again? It tastes like warm, stale vornskr piss with a bit of armpit sweat thrown in for flavor."
It was only through a miracle of Ashla that Adi then realized he had just said that not in his mind...but out loud. Right behind someone who seemed to be actually celebrating the brew....wearing Mando armor....and he smelled awful......ly famiiar.
Kriff. It was.
"Kaine Australis. Rumor had it you were as flat dead as this beer. I'm glad you are still around, buckethead."
Adi stood up to greet Kaine, albeit kind of wobbly. Ok, less than kind of....more along the lines of not really stable at all. What began as an offer of a handshake somehow ended up heading straight for Kaine's left eye. To Adi, his reaction was basically complete, total, and utter surprised horror to notice that his hand was not only headed straight for the open eye of a very drunk...not to mention very strong...Mandalorian, his hand was still holding the very lit joint. Trying to react quickly, and possibly recuperate some semblance of pride, Adi moved to try to put the joint to Kaine's lips.
Well, tried to. It ended up being the lit end. At least he -tried-.....now it was gonna look like he was trying to put the damn thing out on Kaine's dried out, drunken lips.
Well, shit. There goes the neighborhood.
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Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
Consuming Copious Coopers
Posts: 1,029
Affiliation: Vegemite and Mandalore
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Post by Kaine Australis on Nov 16, 2020 2:30:45 GMT -8
"Oh this crap again? It tastes like warm, stale vornskr piss with a bit of armpit sweat thrown in for flavor."What the uppity fuck? Kaine thought, then he saw the chakaar that had spoken. Adieumus Grim Fandango Mantango himself. Visions of wings of stealth bombers turning Honoghr's surface to molten slag passed before Kaine's eyes, fantasies from a bygone era. " Kaine Australis. Rumor had it you were as flat dead as this beer. I'm glad you are still around, buckethead."Shit, sometimes the galaxy gave you a present when it wasn't even Life Day. He'd finished the bottle by the time Adi finished speaking and came at him smoking something that was probably horrible shit. He's not going to poke me in the eye with that glowy end, is he? Osik, oh yes he is. Kaine's thoughts slowed, assessing his condition through the fog of the booze. No, he wasn't at his best. But he wasn't going to pass this opportunity up. Buckethead? Kaine roared. Forgetting he wasn't wearing said bucket, Kaine ducked his head, and bullrushed the oncoming joint, searing the hot end into his scalp, but collecting Adi with the momentum and weight of old boar, armour, and booze well above the plimsoll line. That came a cropper right away as the impact rocked Kaine's overfull stomach, and he ralphed right at Adi from inches from the ersatz Jedi's face. He also dropped the bottle which smashed to the ground. Between the smashing glass, the yelling, and the fight that was breaking out, the bar patrons began to find reasons to join in and things quickly disintegrated into an all in brawl around Kaine and Adi.Better out than in. Kaine burped, croaking out through his scorched throat. Punch him! A voice in his head yelled, but Kaine was slow to react as the Giant Boob descended into alcohol fueled mayhem...
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Adi
Crew of the Wayward Son
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Affiliation: Crew of the Wayward Son
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Post by Adi on Nov 16, 2020 2:51:02 GMT -8
Well, so much for diplomacy....
With a grunt, he was tackled, in the air, down on the ground and...ohgodwhatwasthatgurgling......
The smell...the taste...the acrid color of too much alcohol, far too much cholesterol, and Bogan-knows-what else spewed into Adi's face. It got into his eyes, his ears, his mouth....and worst of all, his nose. That fact alone turned the alcohol in Matango's belly into a veritable volcano, but the ugly mug of the Mandalorian just put it further over the edge. The Blood and Thunders, the amber ale, and yes, even the Coopers came spewing back out into the air like a fountain....and right down the front of Kaine's armor as the bottle hit the floor.
At least that wasn't gonna be smashed over Adi's head now....was it?
Adi tried to stand up, see the raucous brawl erupt around him. He couldn't help but smile, knowing Leto would be one of the first jumping into this drunken foray to hit the biggest guy square in his squawk box. Reaching for a towel from the bar, he wiped the mixture of vomit from his face as best as he could. He was still retching from the ungodly odor when a chair flew over his head, crashing against the wall. Something deep within his churning gut was screaming at him...."Hit the big bastard, you can take him. He's only double your size, twice your strength!! You've hit bigger and gotten away with it!!"
Somehow, Adi thought he heard Beasty in there, absolutely -screaming- for him to throw a punch. Right at the face of what appeared to Adi as a mountain of blurry armor with a tiny little head poking out....like a turtle who's shell was too big, or a hermit crab who moved into the biggest shell it could find. And while the will to do so was most definitely there, the execution went about as well as one would think. What was started as a hard punch at Kaine's misaligned jaw ended up being a not-very-strong hit directly in the center of the Mando's armored chest. Kaine didn't even -move-. Sheepishly, Adi chuckled through the pain of very bruised knuckles, looking at Kaine...who did not look very amused.
And the laughter of Leto was now heard in Adi's mind more clearly than ever. Of course, he would be enjoying every single moment of seeing what was more than likely about to transpire on the former Jedi's puke-covered face in a moment or two.
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Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
Consuming Copious Coopers
Posts: 1,029
Affiliation: Vegemite and Mandalore
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Post by Kaine Australis on Nov 16, 2020 4:50:37 GMT -8
Kaine was slow to react... The brawl around them crashed on, and Kaine noticed he was also covered in vomit, and not his own. Kriff, that wasn't on the cards, it wasn't like he'd puked on the chakaar on purpose. Oh well, fair was fair. Adi's punch hit Kaine in the armour, and did diddly dick all damage to the Mandalorian. The booze made Kaine slow, and it made him cocky, which made him slower still. Ha!He turned his frown into a smile and wound back for a punch he intended to hit so hard that it would crash into Adi's nose and travel through time and interfere with Adi's motorboat attempts and wobble both of Ice's Death Stars 20 years in the past. Sober Kaine would have utilised one of the gadgets he was festooned with, even helmetless, he was hardly unarmed, even with less lethal technologies. Unfortunately, tunnel vision and lack of a Buy'ce and its HUD over his face to remind him he owned one, left the old boar with the mark one eyeballs, and mark one fists, which were at least gauntleted in beskar. The aiming and targeting systems in Kaine's brain, on the other hand, were stewed in tihaar and Coopers, and he couldn't make up his mind whether to punch with his left or right, settling for right far too late to regain his balance. Double vision didn't help matters. Kaine swiped at thin air and went past Adi, missing by a full meter, crashing through a table and going down facefirst in a puddle of fluids and two angry Rodians and one pissed off Trandoshan.
Amy cut off her dancing to watch, now swaying gently from side to side from her perch. The angry Trandoshan made to grab her by the leg, and lost two fingers to a swipe of her blade, green blood spraying her from thigh to ankle. She waved a finger at the offender.No touching! And sent him out with a booted kick to the face. Amy did not hold with beings that didn't keep their appendages to themselves. And she was enjoying the show of her father, drunker than she'd ever seen him, attempting to fight in that state. Her money was on the other guy. Adi
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Ishmael
Member
Posts: 134
Affiliation: The Way of Lapay
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Post by Ishmael on Nov 16, 2020 12:38:45 GMT -8
*I grinned at Bedrovelse, more out of appreciation for his stab at humor than any true feeling of mirth, before gesturing dismissively to the two men drunkenly beating on one another only a few paces from our table.*[/color][/ul][/ul] *Written on the Necromancer of the East's face was a grief that dwarfed my own paltry self pity. Acknowledging it would be unseemly in the extreme; any attempt to commiserate would be laughable. Bedrovelse had lost a brother in arms, a mentor, and a true friend. The bonds of blood spilled and battles won, severed by a cruel twist of fate.*
*What had I lost? A symbol of an era long gone despite all of our collective yearning, and nothing more. Nothing, next to what had been taken from these people. To me, Leto's death was naught but the final nail in a rose-colored coffin.*
*Bah. How kriffing banal, to center myself in this storm that had nothing to do with me. As if I had lost anything. As if bitter nostalgia compared to an icy hole in the heart.*
*I drained the rest of my ale and signaled for another. The serving droid had to weave around the sloppy brawl taking place in order to reach me, fretting the whole way. If its cheap servomotors would allow hand-wringing, I'm sure it would've worn them out.*
*Struck by a sudden thought, I raised an eyebrow at my companion.* [/color][/ul][/ul] *One hand raised my fresh glass of lomin ale to my lips, drinking deep of alcohol and mint; the other rummaged through the satchel at my side, searching for and eventually procuring an ancient tome, bound in, of all things, human skin.*[/color][/ul][/ul] *I jerked a thumb toward the two drunks beating each other senseless.*[/color][/ul][/ul]
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Death Angel
Member
derp.
Posts: 355
Affiliation: Iridonia
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Post by Death Angel on Nov 16, 2020 14:21:47 GMT -8
A tempered Iridonian malevolence that the galaxy hadn't chronicled an encounter with in what felt like aeons, manifests himself into the extradimensional magicks of unreality that held the Giant Boob within this plane of existence. As this was a place that distorts space-time itself, DA's blatant rifting would normally be frowned upon in standard universe rules, but they'd likely be overlooked, as he came to pay tribute to a fallen comrade, albeit more acquaintance than friend. He wished the return of his presence would've come under happier circumstances, but alas, it unfortunately takes tragedy to recognise and esteem the sanctity of life and value its fragility.
DA's armourweave cloak unfurled like wings, revealing the elegant Zabraki shell-spider silk tunic he sported, as he slowly descended in a dignified Force-glide. He exhaled a cloud of ixetal cilona; death sticks — and Wroshyr cavendish, to a lesser extent — had been his hollow vice of a solace in such an annus horribilis. Touching down at the fringes of the bosom, DA heard the sounds of a brawl inside. He smiled. That was the kind of chaos the Jen'jidai Bestial would've revelled in. A fitting tribute. Finishing his death stick, He walked in through the entrance of the Boob's shady crevasses, immediately ducking to avoid incurring the collateral damage of a broken bottle that missed its original target.
DA sidestepped past the brawl to offer his respects to Leto, and those he left behind. His basso voice held its usual oily resonance, weathered with an uncharacteristically ancient sadness like the wroshyrs of Kashyyyk.
Jen'jidai Leto Bestial. You were one of the fiercest warriors I had the pleasure of watching whenever the HoloNet streamed the Galactic Battle Arena. It is a pity I did not have the fortune of sparring blades with you; doubtless I would learn much more in technique.
Tu tsawak tyûk, chirikyât kraata ÿ jiaasjen. Chwûq shâsot dzwolwai. Wonoksh Qyâsikin-kårós tü. Tu'asha qoritwai, châtsatul kintik'kaz nwûl ÿ midwan erutïër.
(You were the embodiment of strength, causing those who faced you to tremble in fear of your inevitable victory, walking the fault-lines of shadow and light. Yet, even the passion of embers must cease to exist. May the dark Chaos of the Force free you. May victory never cease. In death, may you gain darkest blessings in peace and power evermore.)
DA's eyes glow an eerie vermilion as he chants several Sith prayers in his indigenous Epicant tongue.
Incitrovan malïïs lurses citro vanus pardunumat prudentiæ: Goros délmår. Reñess yakarrt vassar. Nommusëhrt gninthgil. Raga kalimær åçálëphê.
Upon concluding, DA heads to the bar to order the most potent brew of cucumber-zested Coopers the VSE had to offer. Might as well reminisce while he's at it before the inebriation fully sets in.
There are many things no one tells you about grief.
No one tells you about the subsidence of fresh graves with the rain. Thyferra's humidity lends itself to the convectional precipitation that blankets the planetary surface, almost ritually. It looks like an earthquake epicentre; imagine the shock of the first visit, finding the earth had shifted, and your blade-brother's grave had sunk a full half-metre below ground level.
No one tells you the memorial cairns take months to arrive. The waiting period is the worst — you loathe the feeling of the unmarked grave. It feeds your fears of him becoming an abandoned memory.
No one tells you the pain gets worse with time. It is not your ally. Time heals nothing. Time means nothing. Moments feel like years. Years feel like seconds. Time numbs as it lies, taunts as it tortures. Time never heals this kind of loss.
No one tells you the funeral itself isn't the worst part. It's reforming yourself in the quiet, grieving silence left behind in the days following. An eerie quiet in the comms pinging that once annoyed you. In the push notifications on your HoloNet transceiver. In the dumb memes that remind you of him, and the realisation you can't tag him in them anymore. The silence in the empty seat across you at the dinner table. In the soil that separates your mortal coils. In between your clasped hands praying that this, too, might pass. The torturous echoes haunt your every motion. You can't even laugh the same. There'll always be that edge of broken, a tenor of pain. You're told they become happier reminders eventually, but that's farther down the road than you're led to believe, when the unimaginable is still merely theoretical.
No one tells you healing can happen, not by remedying the pain, not by hiding it under shallow platitudes, not by swallowing faux peace like bitter medicine, but by allowing all tha pain to remain unfiltered, to teach genuine understanding and compassion.
No one tells you closure isn't the happily-ever-after you envisioned. One does not simply 'let go' of death, let alone a premature one. It's like losing a limb. Maybe the last Kübler-Ross stage isn't acceptance, but acknowledgment. Acknowledgment is more accurate than acceptance. It's the apotheosis of what any grieving soul can do — acknowledge that it really did happen, and then somehow learning to live with the grief and manoeuvring around the loss-shaped hole that will never close.
No one tells you healing doesn't remove the sting of the heartache, but rather leaves its wounds there to walk with you on the corner of suburbia, right beside the pain.
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Post by Bedrovelse Hevn on Nov 17, 2020 1:06:10 GMT -8
Hevn was drawing smoke from the hose when the extremely amusing confrontation began. It seemed the first of tonight’s entertainment acts was beginning! At Ishmael’s quip toward the brewing action a low thunder began in the back of his throat, and chuckle to rival a Hutt. Each boom of his stifled laughter sent jets of purple smoke from his nose and lips like an exhaust vent. “It certainly seems so!”
Adi had dug himself in deep. This wasn’t the kind of crowd you declare insult toward Coopers to, and THAT CERTAINLY IS NOT HOW YOU PUFF, PUFF, PASS! Where there ought have been a bucket to serve as an ash tray, the Jedi aimed the hot end of his Ewok herb, right at the drunken mando’s scowl of fury. Yub, yub, this was really happening. Hevn wondered if Kaine even felt the shower of embers rolling down either side of his head when he bull rushed his offender.
Then came the putrid retch of a stomach full of tihaar emptying itself onto a Jedi. He should have been disgusted, but considering it was how Hevn felt about the creed of Jedi in general he was both positively thrilled, and jealous it was not him doing so.
At Ishmael’s invitation to a wager, his Hutt chuckle ends with a wicked grin. His reply slithers gleefully along another hiss of purple cloud, “Always!”
He analyzes the fighters chances as Ishmael produces Syn’s journal. Admittedly there was only one Sin he was after in this place tonight, but considering his dance floor was now covered in blood, sweat, testosterone, and whatever the hell Kaine ate, if anything at all, before coming here....he was accepting the possibility of settling for some new puppet tricks.
Kaine was thoroughly trashed. However! He has his beskar, fighting in defense of Coopers honor, and nobody wants to lose in front of their daughter. Adi’s chances weren’t without merit though. He’d made it to a championship fight against his mentor, William Reign, and he could attest to every ounce of skill and will it takes. All of that was neatly wrapped in a package of incoherent, stubborn, numbness.
It was the chest shot that tilted Hevn’s decision. Adi trying to strike Kaine was like watching the poor bugger hunt for a woman’s sweet spot, and he was pretty sure the Jedi were pretty weak on sex ed. The question was whether he’d hurt himself enough to quit before the geezer he was locked man combat with decided it was past his bed time.
“Who....are.....you,” between each word he hurls smoke rings across the table toward Ishmael, “rooting for?” He giggles slightly at himself, which ends in a snort and small dry smoky cough. “I’ll give you Palpatine’s notes on the Mask technique if Adi wins, and another object of your choosing from my vault.”
The irony of them bartering with the things they took from Ossus, while it’s head at the time was locked in a hardcore match in the cantina was a thing of joy. With another swig of rum he wondered if that was far too boisterous a wager, but Hevn was a generous gambler. The tickle of booze was beginning to addle and impair his judgment, and something in the sheeshah was beginning to make his skin tingle with little fireworks of ecstasy.
“I’ve never seen a stoned man in a fist fight,” he had to muse rather loudly now as the fight began to spread like wildfire. Raising his bottle Hevn roars in cheer, “OYA! PUKE AND RALLY!”
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Post by Whill Shaman Nyx on Nov 17, 2020 13:02:47 GMT -8
Erevis descended through the roof, floating to the floor of the bar almost gently. He nodded to Nyx and fangirled at Xixo......*cough* A wink and the gun to his other half at the bar, which seemed oddly self serving, but Iniquitous was an ass anyway. The EPBOW formed in his hand, mirroring the one in Stinky's palm as he wandered over to Nyx, flopping in a seat next to her. He too cheers the sky, took a long drag through his mask, then winked at Nyx Little Sister. How are you faring?" Nyx nodded at Erevis. "Big Brother. I'm doing find thank you. I've been on sabbatical for a bit. I got word of losing one of our own and decided I had to come back, pay my respects. How've you been?" Nyx took a drink just as vomit starting flying as well as the Coopers.
"It seems not much has changed. Still a clusterkriff as always." Nyx raised her drink to Erevis. "To the Bes'tial."
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Post by Whill Shaman Erevis on Nov 17, 2020 20:53:23 GMT -8
Understatement my Dear. With those two dipshits flailing about on the floor...I would stop it, but I want to see if Kaine shits himself.....Leto would have enjoyed this...
He chuckled and leaned back, stretching his legs in front of him, his eyes positively glowing in mirth....a not a little mischief....He waved his hand towards the two on the floor, the smell of Carni and Villa's mom wafting across the two just as Kaine threw up all over Adi. Erevis nearly fell off his chair laughing so hard, taking another swig from his bottle and offering it to Nyx
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Lord Sinistra
Retired High Councilor
VE Human Capital Management & Talent Acquisition
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Affiliation: The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lord Sinistra on Nov 18, 2020 13:58:00 GMT -8
A deep breath, and step toward excusing himself found him face to face with Sinistra. The warmth in his checks had spread through his face, though the alcohol had yet to impair his step or regal posture. It widens his grin as far as it’s stretched since stepping through the doors of the boob. “Lord Sinistra.” If he recalled correctly, and his memory seemed extremely firm on the draw, she detested the use of the term ‘lady.’ “Violet serves you well. In all its shades.” His gaze shamelessly meanders over her form from head to toe, and back up again. “It would please me to steal you for a dance. At your leisure of course.” A wicked flash of charisma passes through his grin, before he makes a quarter bow to each of the women, departing for a table Ishmael inhabited. Sinistra nodded to Hevn, the memory of him in a tangle of sheets tugs at the corner of her mouth as she acknowledged him."Bedrovelse Hevn, you are as charming as ever. A dance is all you are asking for? How very conservative of you." She gave him a wink and watched him walk away, her fingers finding her bottle of whiskey for a sip while she enjoyed the view."Wish I had a swing like that in my backyard," she remarked to Lamia who seemed pulled by her thoughts to the dead."So tell me, what keeps you occupied these days?" A raucous display erupted around them, but between Adi and Kaine, Sinistra could not help but find the whole thing amusing, this ramshackle group of people who Force knows should never have crossed paths and yet, here they were, not killing each other yet, and mostly being civil, if you could call any of them civilized to begin with.
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Lamia Bes'tial
The Vegemite Enclave
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Affiliation: VSE, The Vegemite Enclave
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Post by Lamia Bes'tial on Nov 20, 2020 7:15:17 GMT -8
Lamia chuckled at her former master as she flirted shamelessly with Hevn, while in the background rose the cacophony of chaos that always seemed to happen in The Giant Boob. She noticed Ryddick taking it all in. Sadly, he was not raised around these people... her chosen family, and was not accustomed to their way of things. She poured them more whiskey and sat down next to her boy.
"It's a spectacle isn't it? Much like the night you were born. Well much like the day we found out about you. Your father was certainly not ready for that announcement. The idea of being a father resulted in him passing out at my feet." She laughed as she told her son the story of his birth.
".... then the night you were born... I actually went into labor while fighting with Ava, she's right over there. It was chaotic and confusing and in the end we ended up with you.
=Leto=
He looked down on the little creature that was lying in his arms, crying on top of its voice. Their child. He stepped closer to Lamia and handed her the baby, leaning over and kissing her forehead.
''You did it.''
We certainly did do it... he loved you as best as Leto could love anyone. He would surely be proud of you today.
Their trip down memory lane was interrupted with the distinct sound of macaroni and cheese being stirred loudly in the back of the bar.
Oh for Kriff's sake... Villa's Mum is ready to party...
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Syren
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 229
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Post by Syren on Nov 21, 2020 13:27:36 GMT -8
*Avarath vaguely heard her name. Turning her head, she saw both Kaine and Adieumus tumble about the tables in their enigmatic version of rutting. Aside from Lamia and Lord Sinistra, Ava was perplexed by the courtship ritual. Humans were strange things. Of course, they could always have been showing off for each other. Ava tapped her chin as she envisioned that pairing. She shuddered slightly, nearly throwing up at the thought.
Quickly to dislodge the train of thought, Avarath slipped from the chair and approached the Mandalore, Reyn and his mighty barrel of tihaar.* "How likely is that stuff to blind your average human?"
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Post by Malapert Piffle on Nov 21, 2020 18:38:22 GMT -8
*Malapert Piffle skulks near the jukebox, malicious eyes surveying the revelry: partly in enjoyment of the hedonistic festivity, partly in hope of catching sight of an unsuspecting would-be victim. Always looking for that. He has liberated one of the bottles of tihaar that Reyn disseminated from an especially boozed up patron and now drags it along with him, taking an occasional swig. Those slurps are a grotesquely comical sight, because the bottle is a full third of the size of his body. He's in the middle of guzzling a bit more down, slumped against the wall and incorporating both hands and a foot to leverage the bottle mouth up to his gullet without it slipping from his grasp.*
*There's the sound of laughter, crying, the whole gamut of emotions, and a varying degree of inebriation-driven conversation. The raucous sound of a really drunk Mando crashing through a table. The skooch of a chair as somebody gets up. And then a particularly fishy-looking lady comes over to the jukebox and starts talking to the not-so-drunk Mando over here. Malapert's ears prick up. His nose would, too, but the smell in here is overwhelming. He casts a squinty glance from the corner of his eye at one of the malodorous culprits - a forgotten cuke nearby, glistening with unknown fluid and lightly dusted with hair and fuzz.*
*He sets the bottle down with a loud clink on the floor and perks up, fixating on a single word just spoken. Unasked, he speaks up in his gratingly shrill cackly voice.*
"Blind? Ahhh, blind, ahaha! Ahhhh ahaha hahahaha!"
*For the sudden notion of someone being permanently blinded by the liquor they're all drinking has struck his funny bone. A filthy smile cracks across his face. He tilts his head to the side and looks up at Avarath and Reyn.*
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Post by Darr'tah C'thulhu on Nov 24, 2020 19:09:11 GMT -8
*From a dark corner of this well remembered but strange place, came a ragged cough followed by a brief flash of light as tattooed fingers struck a match and lit the death stick that sat pursed between two tattooed lips. Black eyes peered out from the shadows of the corner table, shadows cast from the lighting of the room, shadows slowly rising from scarred and twisted flesh. A hand drops the match, pulls forth the tankard and fills it to the brim with a dark liquor . Again another ragged cough and a deep breath to follow. There was enough action going on in the Boob to lend secrecy to the lonely and gruff voice that sang a song of old, a song for old friends, those made and lost on the battlefield. A Song to those no longer with us. He removed the death stick from his maw and drained half of the tankard in a single heavy gulp. Black eyes like a shark staring out from the shadows, lips moving to music only he could hear. It was strange to be back in this realm, strange indeed but if there was need of one who would honor and sing tales of the victorious dead, C'thulhu would oblige.*
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Lamia Bes'tial
The Vegemite Enclave
Posts: 66
Affiliation: VSE, The Vegemite Enclave
Traffic Light: Yellow
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Post by Lamia Bes'tial on Nov 29, 2020 15:16:10 GMT -8
Lamia eyed the almost empty bottle of whiskey in front of her. She knew it was time. She'd been avoiding it the entire night, but honestly, she was the one that had to do it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, bringing up his face in her mind one more time. She stood, emptied her glass and waved her hand around the room. The scuffle between Kaine and Adi was pushed to the side and they were placated with an abundance of Coopers from the cooler in the back. She grabbed her bottle, and jumped up on the table in the middle of the room.
"Welcome, everyone to The Giant Boob. It's unfortunate that we gather here to mourn the loss of one of ours, but I am so glad to have everyone back in one place, even if it is only for a moment." She cleared her throat and looked at her son with a smile before she continued. "I appreciate the old faces I've seen today, and welcome the new ones that have come to pay their respects. Hell... I'm even happy to see Villa's Mum... and it looks like a few of you were overjoyed to see her as well. I'll give you the name of a good doctor before you leave."
Lamia looked at her feet for a moment to gather her thoughts. "Leto was a force to be reckoned with, and Gods know he was a complicated man. If you were lucky enough, and I think I was, you saw a side of him that was kind. He cared about his friends, and despite the personal demons he fought on a regular basis he tried to be there for them. He wanted to know that you were doing well, even if he wasn't. He never wanted to burden you with his problems, even if you told him he could. Admittedly, Leto and I lost touch over the last few years, but I could always count on Carni to give me updates. And my heart is happy knowing that he was happy in his last days."
Lamia swallowed the lump in her throat and raised her bottle. "I only hope he knows how much I loved him in our short time together.... so to Leto,
May those who love you love you; and those who don’t love you, may Goddess turn their hearts. And if she doesn’t turn their hearts, may she turn their ankles so you’ll know them by their limping. Slainte!"
Lamia took a long swig of her whiskey and stepped down from the table... and so it was and so it will be, Leto could finally be laid to rest.
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Post by Darr'tah C'thulhu on Dec 1, 2020 11:34:51 GMT -8
C'thulhu stopped his singing as a familiar woman took control of the room. It had been so long since he had been on this side of things that she didn't register in his mind for a moment but as she spoke, he remembered her face. Here before the rabble that had assembled to morn a friend, a competitor, a father and a lover, Lamia spoke from the heart and that in itself required a certain bravery. He drew deep upon the lit Deathstick, watching this eulogy play out before him, half in this world and half in the next. He focused only on her and her words, the emotion behind them, the sincerity. He could no longer hear the cracking of Coopers or the puking of those who couldn't stand their liquor. In this moment, in this oft remembered place, it was only C'thulu and this woman holding her heart before the gods for all to see. He wanted to remember this moment should he ever cross paths with his old friend, his sword brother, so that he might retell it perfectly, so that his friend might know what was thought of him after he had left this world. The green and acrid smoke streamed out from his nostrils, writhing before his wide black eyes with the tattooed lids. When Lamia called forth to honor her love with a drink, C'thulhu stood up from his table to his full towering height and raised his tankard with all others, united in their grief despite the many years of conflict between them. He brought the tankard to his mouth and drained it without ruining the death stick. After all, he was well practiced in such things. Before returning to his seat, he made eye contact with Lamia and offered her a subtle nod, his voice finding her through the weave of the force... "Well said, old friend..."
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Kaine Australis
The Vegemite Enclave
Consuming Copious Coopers
Posts: 1,029
Affiliation: Vegemite and Mandalore
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by Kaine Australis on Dec 8, 2020 6:29:09 GMT -8
Kaine came to, drunk still, in a pool of what smelled like vomit and spilled booze. He wasn't dead, and dimly he recalled he'd been having a fight.
Mantango, that bastard. Forcing himself up to his feet, Kaine's vision swam, and he nearly toppled back over. A Rodian broke his fall, objecting, pushing Kaine back in the other direction, where he wobbled, but stayed mostly upright. The old Mando'ad looked up to see a pair of breasts with a face behind them.Tits. He said.Daughter tits. Admonished Amaranth from her perch up on the stage.Kaine was suitably abashed, though still confused in his inebriation. Sorry, love. How did you get all the way up there?Amy took pity on the old fool. Never mind. She turned him by one shoulder in the direction to where Lamia was toasting her lost love. Amy injected Kaine with a syrette of oxy-boost when he wasn't looking, sobering him up instantly, then slapped another drink into his hand that she'd taken from a patron that didn't need it anymore.Kaine toasted Leto with the others. Well said! He said, more confidently and clearly than he'd felt in what seemed like hours. He could see again too, maybe the hit to the head was wearing off, he thought, not knowing Amy had jabbed him to wake his shebs up. Mostly out of pity and embarrassment for the state he was in, though Kaine need never know.Kriff. He said, looking down and seeing the vomit. Quickly, he gave the front of his armour a blast from his flame projector and scrubbed most of the crap away. That was better. Matango was still there. Kaine wandered over and shoved him forward. An Askajian lady of advanced years, sitting next to Villa's Mum was in the path of Adeiumus. He fell face first into her lap, and when he looked up, he would see a face above six breasts.Better fate than you deserve. Quipped Kaine, and turned back to the party. Adi Lamia Bes'tial
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