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This wasn't the Duvraagan Club...

Dialed had been looking forward to a relaxing time off duty in the lively red districts of Kor Vella. One he had been squirreling away his meager Stormtrooper pay for months. And good reason too, cause reservations for even the comely dancers could break a Captain's credit chit! Scanning the odd looking crowd through his helmeted gaze -- primarily xenos by the inhuman look of them -- no way on Malachor was this the place.This joint was rough. Though maybe that was just the recent scorch marks at the front door talking.

His helmeted gaze surveyed the whole scene briefly. A stand off between two armed females was in progress. Anyone's guess who would shoot first. Unlike that time in Mos Eisley, he was off duty, so not his problem! Another time and place, he'd put credits on the furry one getting first blood. Though if the hulk of a lizard next to her got involved, it would be no contest. A group of staff and patrons seemed to be doing clean up in one rooms corner. And a swashbuckling loner seemed to posted up in the corner.

He couldn't explain why he didn't about face and leave right there. After all, the whole place of loud, rowdy and crowded. And he was tired after a long shift in the market district, where one hears enough heming-and-hawing to last a life time. Couldn't be the atmosphere. This place was old, or at least made to look old. Nothing like the gilded hall and cereulon tiled floors of Duvraa's. The music was-- well, it just was. But a feeling that evaded all description left the armored Imperial drifting toward the bar area, booted feet finally coming to stand in the center of the long counter.

"Definitely not Duvraagan..." he murmured to himself, giving the counter top a knuckled rap for service.

//helo! hope you don't mind me joining in. love the setting you created, btw.


She remembered sprinting faster than usual, her dimmed coat a little drenched with dabs of blood here and there. Sun-Na gradually slowed to a walking pace, heading towards the door of a clinic, not caring if people stared at the smear of blood on her cheek. When she opened it, however, she seemed to stumble into a swarm of civilians and strange species. Eyebrow raised, she walked cautiously, combing eyes through the uplifting tavern.

Her necklace caressed her questioned state, reassuring her if threat emerges. Calmly nodding to herself, her boots clicked the wooden floor. Sun-Na approached the bustling counter, arms resting and eyes drowned in curiosity, wondering how the hell she got into this bar.

Okay.... three panicked individuals, in less than a minute.... Sox quietly drew the small pistol, and had it unfold itself into a short vambrace along her other wrist, and closed her hand around the grip of her fan.

The Keep sweeps up the last of the mess and disposes of it somewhere behind the counter. As he returns to the main room, he sees several newcomers, all of them first-time visitors. A golden-eyed elf, a green-haired woman, a soldier from a galaxy far, far away, and finally one more girl with blood-stained robes. Oh no...

He grabs some cloth and bandages from a hidden shelf and rushes to the girl, hastily explaining to the stormtrooper that he'd serve him in just a moment. "Miss, are ya alright? I have a few rooms in the back if ya need help and a private place to rest."

Zafnir's eyes drift slowly away from the unruly elf and back, instinctively, toward the warm-colored fur of the fox woman. He thinks he sees her pull something out of her pack. His eyes widen. A weapon? "Young lady," he hisses desperately. "The Tavern Keeper has it under control; don't do anything you may regret."

She smiled to the dragon, and raises her bracelet-bearing arm briefly to show that she's not carrying a weapon. Which... isn't completely true, but if it could get into formal parties without being confirmed.... anyway, as long as she kept her fan hidden in her void-vaulted leg pouch, she was fairly sure it would be fine.

The place was interesting, indeed. It was calming and serene, despite the usual table throwing and beer chugging, the presence of the bar had embracing arms instead of the clinic she would often visit. It is, without a fact, surprisingly a tavern she had never visited or stumbled upon. She'd been roaming the town for a week and a half, marking significant areas and hideouts in a case of an unanticipated crisis. Sun-Na secured her visit to every local bar in order to attain sorts of information regarding the affairs pressed upon the wondering mage. Nevertheless, the peculiar yet inviting tavern was located underneath the clinic. Or so she thought.

Hearing the small throb of the necklace, she looked up from her mindful state, glancing at the stranger in front of her. Sun-Na immediately assumed that he held authority over the local bar, judging by his words, hoping that she'd be able to receive some answers from her curiosity.

She leaned her head on her palm, then boosting her bottom to the stool beside her. With inquisitive eyes she replied, "I'm fine, thank you for your concern. There is no need to provide more assistance. A sweet drink, perhaps, may help better than a place to rest."

The slow few steps towards the bar were enough to calm Pix's active wondering of what had happened down somewhat, at least enough to accept the current situation as her reality. This was, in fact, a good thing. She had sold several items of....questionable acquisition in places like this before. Seeing as the chase was over, she figured this was a great time to unload her prize and perhaps in this way she could learn where she was. She smiled slightly at the thought of her recent luck as she walked towards the bar, already eyeing potential customers on the seats before her.

Her spying of the taverns cast, however, revealed something she had so far not noticed. As soon as she saw the Vyrin, what most races knew as a dragon, she froze mid step, her face quickly losing the coy smile. She turned to face the beast who, as far away as he was, seemed to sit in her lap at the size he was. There were legends of these creatures on her homeworld. In ancient times they would swoop down and snatch a Voldarian up in one swift motion, draining their energy as they ascended into the sky and dropping their lifeless bodies back to the surface. In a matter of second they killed their victims, and legend had it, her people were little more than a snack in their eyes. Standing at only 4 foot tall, a Vyrin could easily swallow 5 Pix's whole without chewing. They were supposed to be extinct thousands of years ago, and yet here one sat as alive as anything she had ever seen.

Pix backed away slowly, hoping the creature hadn't yet noticed her. Her face had a clear look of terror, eyes widened and mouth slightly agape. Her hands raised slightly in front of her as if to guard against it's approach. Her breathing was shallow and panicked and her body language reflected this as well.

With her sense intact, Pix likely would have realized the Vyrin, or Dragon, wasn't eating any of the other patrons of the bar, and thus was not likely going to eat her either. Fear had consumed her, however, and she now relied only on instinct to guide her out of what she saw as a life or death encounter.

As the scene unfolded, Xenith found himself with no time to reply to the tavern keeper as the room grew tense. The man raised a thick eyebrow, and continued to loll lazily, emitting calm confidence. Despite his appearances and perhaps people's first judgements of him, the disheveled warrior was usually quite harmless and often helpful, if it was in his interest.

"Aye there Keep... If ya need medical help, ah happen to know some healing magics." He said this slowly, in a friendly, comfortable tone.
Xenith's voice was powerful tho, not too deep, although attractive, not only in the sense that woman often liked him... But also because it held a firm slight hint of dangerous authority, making people often quick to pay attention. He could have a way with words if he wanted to...

The pirates golden eyes were intense, and unreadable as he looked steadily at the bar keeper. Xenith meant well at the moment though, everything in here was slightly entertaining, but he strangely wasn't interested in adding to the chaos...

Tension was filling the air. Sox.... was a little worried about that, and worked to unwind the room in the best way she knew how: She drew her fans, and began to dance in the middle of the room. It was an elaborate routine full of twirls, jumps, and flowing movements, with the crimson fans, bearing her family's crest, helping to make her seem like a living bonfire. She would continue to dance until as many eyes as she could get were on her not-unappealing figure and its graceful movements.

Verla couldn't understand what was going on, it happened so fast. All she could do was step out of the way, not knowing what was happening.

((Sorry I was gone, can someone sum up what happened?))

((All good. Let me try to figure out where exactly Zaffy's attention should go. Though I dare say he's really attracted to warm colors, which is kind of just a dragon thing.))

The Keep seems a little flustered; he isn't yet used to handling this many newcomers at once. "Ah-aye, miss. I'll fetch yer sweet drink." He lowers his head to the elven pirate. "Thank ya kindly sir, but the lady insists she doesn't need it." He sweeps behind the counter and, resting an arm on the counter, asks, "What can I do fer you two?" He tilts his head to the stormtrooper, then to Xenith.

Zafnir watches the fox woman dance. He loves her colors, the pretty red clothes and her warm fur; she looks like a bright, lively flame. He could easily imagine that touching her would leave a hand with burns. Entranced by the slightly random performance, he does not yet notice the terrified Voldarian. Of course, knowledge that he had frightened someone just by being here would deeply hurt him.

The lack of drink and great loads of noisy 'hub-bub' were really making Paz rethink blowing this place. His mood was already in the gutter from missing his appointment with the girls at the Correlia cantina. They'd probably already pocketed his down-payment for reservations. Moved on to astound some lucky shiny, or pup officer just out of his academy gowns. A sudden flurry of movement dragged the troopers attention away from his drought of fun and dreams of bedroom frippery, as a little vixen took center stage. Well, room, to be accurate. And it was quite the show.

Seeing rhythmic gyrations and graceful twirls, he felt intrigued. He couldn't call her beautiful -- it was an alien after all -- but she might have been a petite looker. Taking off his helmet, putting it to the side, his rugged craggy features might have even cracked a smile at the high jumps through the air. Sometimes you just need to switch off the Imperial in you and enjoy the worlds distractions. Like the color fans she twirled, the room seemed to look a little brighter. Even the bartender showed up!

"Old Janx spirit: if you got the gold label," he answered the beaming bartender, before pointing at the foxy traipser , "And whatever she's having, on me." Tossing out his credit chit, the normally surly trooper was puffed up, quite proud about how much he'd saved to spend today.

Hearing Paz's words with her sharp ears, she flashed him a wink and a fave as she continued to flow and spiral, her dance seeming to be about to come to a crescendo.

And that's when she let her body do its best trick, and wrapped herself in a thin flame, letting it flash bright, but not very hot, as it came into being, shedding at least as much light as the fireplace.