Thieves' Den

The gangly Rodian, mimicking Silas in a playful rather than mocking way, tucks his duster behind the twin blasters slung low on his scrawny hips in a comically exaggerated fashion, his tapir like snot curling into an approximation of a humanoid grin as he then raises his thin fingered hands, index fingers pointing at Silas in lieu of the blasters that stay in their holsters, and greets him in his customarily gregarious way, "Howdy th'ranger! I'm Dak'th, and my ugly friend here is Mack. He'th our re'thident grumpy old man, and I'm what I gue'th you'd call th'ecurity. Lov'th that I would know you better line by the way. You mind if I us'th that when I'm trying to pick up the ladie'th at the bar? I think I can make it work, his bulbous blue eyes squint in as much as lidless eyes can squint, his snout attempting a cocky grin as he intones in his smoothest voice, Heeeeey there good lookin', I'm Dak'th, and I would know you better, if you know . . ."

Shaking his head as Dax continues to act out his attempt to woo an imaginary female, Mack holds out a hand to shake with Silas, "Mack, crew chief and quartermaster for this sorry lot. The wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and other creases in his scarred face shift to reveal that despite his overall stoic and serious exterior he possesses a sense of humor that is occasionally permitted to surface, Mack advises Silas while jutting his chin towards Dax, still playing out his pickup fantasy, Ignore Dax, he tends to run off at the mouth with the absolute minimum of provocation . . ."

Rejoining the conversation, his bantering with Mack not designed to draw a circle around them that excludes Silas, but that instead includes him and welcomes him in a way that does not involve any overt display or exchange of words, Dax advises Silas cheerfully, "And that'th about twenty more word'th than Mack allows him'thelf for a week, th'o don't expect to hear from him again for quite th'ome time. Not giving Mack an opportunity to seize the conversational reigns again were he so inclined, Dax asks Silas, Th'o, now that you know u'th a little better, let'th hear about you. What do you think about u'th? Chuckling at his own joke, Dax goes on without a pause to allow Silas to answer the playfully rhetorical question were he so inclined, Th'eriou'thly though, where are you from? Where'd ol' Ade pick you and the other th'rays up? What i'th it you bring to the crew? What'th the th'ory with the other th'ray'th? What . . ."

Interrupting Dax before he can add to the mounting list of questions Silas has to cover, Mack says, "Save a few questions for later, Dax, and then advises Silas, You'll want to just cut him off when he starts going on and on like that. He's used to it."

Silas nodded simply, flipping Mack one of the few casings he had left. If the man was confident in his abilities to craft new shells for his hand-cannon, so be it -- though he wasn't sure about Mack's assertion that his rough-hewn weapon was in any way 'fine' (except when it came to killin' folks.) He was in no need to have the weapon back, and though it went unsaid, they both knew it would be easier to machine and press the rounds with the pistol in his possession, so when he turned to follow after Neassa, the Preacher's sidearm stayed behind, with Mack. I should really find the architect of our chaos ...and I think she's the one with black hair, and smelling lightly of mint. He walked in the direction of the scent of anticipation, fear, anger and remorse. I imagine I'll be alright with just this... he said, not quite under his breath, as he willed his sword to his right hand, twirling the hilt once before lightly running his fingers over the activation plate.

Silas followed the chill till his trail terminated at what appeared to be a watering hole of sorts. Galley? Meeting-place? He couldn't be sure. All of this... from the social norms, to the 'fresher, to this place in specific, was all new to him. He'd never set foot in this place in his life. And aside from the past couple weeks, wherein he'd met and befriended (and saved?) at least a few of the bodies huddled around tables in the half-light, he didn't know these faces from Adam. That's not to say there were no allegiences. Sure, he owed his host for furthering his own cause, and for a roof over his head for the time being. He owed Neassa... well, he couldn't say just what. But he owed her. The rest of the crew of Draykon's ship -- those he'd served with, at least -- he owed a debt of gratitude and camaraderie. But these were not the ones he concerned himself with.

After shooting a glance at Isabelle that said in no uncertain terms 'keep your distance, devil-woman' he walked right over to the bar, and swept his long coat aside to sit astride the bar-stool, adjacent to the raven-haired woman. It was 10 degrees colder here than anywhere else in the room, and he fixed her with an even stare, placing his hilt on the bar-top, inches from her hand, drawing knowing glances from both the Source of Chaos, and her friend in armor, sitting with her back against a wall.

"...ain't a whole lot of talk happenin' here. We ride out on the 'morrow, I think we all need to know what to expect from you. Not you and yours. You. Don't mind me sayin' so... but I can tell you're the type, you stick a finger in the air nearby a flock o' gulls, shit sticks to it. Why don't you tell me about Galdaart Fel."

He took in as much of her wordstuff as he could, much of it first class garbledegook to him. But the general idea and her obvious feelings on being kept waiting were clear. He poured himself something a pleasing shade of green, and considered downing it in a single toss, before sniffing it and then pushing it as far away from him as he could manage.

I am Silas of Biul, Preacher of the Third Realm. I have had-- he paused as her speech fully processed and he was reminded that he and Draykon were joined in a very raw and primal way as the latter lay critically injured aboard the 'Shadow. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments as he dredged his / Draykon's memories for remnants of Fel. It was fragments. It always was. But being a good Preacher meant being able to read and interpret these images and pictures. He saw the man, Fel. Felt his anger, his confusion of emotions toward Adrien. Saw them at opposite ends of gun barrels, more than once. Saw more than he should have been privy to, and for a moment, felt guilt at the intrusion. Draykon was not being judged. What would the Code say of this? ...but this black-tressed mistress of chaos, this Malora... she held her pain at bay, but there was no denying it. He knew what it was to search for something for more than three years, and if he could ease her way, he would see it done. --Draykon... he... he does not have what you need. He has words. Words and an image or two... A plea. Perhaps he has hope for you, which you need. But this Fel -- the Captain does not have what you seek. He fixed her with a clear-eyed, earnest glance I am sorry it isn't what you wished. And besides, I think the saying is: You didn't hear it from me?

He swivelled to look for a moment at the violet-hued pretty-boy. But that one... That one looks like he has much to say.

We are discussing the merits of drinking, and catching up. And discerning the identities of a certain Tweedledee and his accomplice, Tweedledum. He gave the auburn-tressed interloper an even, unassuming stare, all innocence and sincerity. I think she means you.

The stare continued long enough to make anyone at the bar slightly anxious. And then it continued. Eventually, Silas turned back to Karana Malora. If you seek information, and if you believe time is of the essence, what holds you here, other than Adrien's preference that it be so? I will accompany you if you need to 'bend Draykon's ear.' **happy with his correct usage of the saying** We are all here for many reasons, and none of which are getting traction right now. They can 'drink and catch up' while filling your ear with the words you came to hear. This waiting is fruitless. He stood, sliding his barstool back and retrieving his hilt from the bar-top. In doing so, he eyed Isabelle. Oh -- you're still here. to Malora Should we go and make my Captain's day a little harder?

Dax gives Silas a cheerful wave as he tells him, "Have fun th'ormin' that ca'thle! Shaking his head with an amused chuckle, the Rodian turns to Mack and says, I love that architect of  chao'th bit, soooo perfect for Malora. Scratching his left antennae in thought as he watches Silas approach the architect in question herself, Dax asks, You think I th'ould go along in ca'th th'omething . . ."

Shaking his head, squinting as he snorts while glancing towards where Malora and a few others have gone, Mack says, "If things with 'em were gonna get to the point where blaster fire was involved, would'a happened long before now. They may squabble, throw around some harsh words, but that's about it. Real worry is whatever dren Malora is here to drag us all into."

Nodding with a shrug of his scrawny shoulders, Dax agrees, "True that, bro'. Pointing a thin suction cup tipped finger at the blaster Silas entrusted to Mack's care, he asks, Need any help in the th'op?"

Grunting noncommittally, Mack begins heading towards his machine shop to begin working on crafting shells for Silas' weapon, Dax falling into step beside him. Having worked together for so long, the Rodian and native of Tattooine soon working in easy concert on making ammunition for the unique slug thrower Silas carries, the Rodian babbling away all the while, undaunted and undeterred by the fact that Mack's contributions to what can only loosely be called a conversation and is more accurately a monologue consist solely of intentionally ambiguous grunts.

The Brothers Draykon stood in silence as the three visitors left the room and were led down the hall by the raven-haired beauty. Tobias was fuming from the encounter and Karana was on a war path, but Adrien didn't care about any of that. He sighed heavily as he sat down in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair. He was stressed out to the max, he was hurting still from what had happened with Connie, and he was exhausted. He imagined that Karana was much in the same boat, and he knew that asking her to give him a night to recuperate was a little selfish on his part but he knew she wasn't in her right state of mind and he didn't think she would understand why he wasn't feeling up to the task right then. Still, he could have at least tried to tell her everything he had gone through and maybe he would, but right now it was hard to even talk about.

Tobias finally breaks the long silence. "You shouldn't have let her talk to you like that." Tobias prided himself on the reputation that he and his brother had built and he believed that they should be treated with the respect that they deserved. For Adrien to put up with that kind of blatant disrespect after welcoming these people into their safehouse would, in Tobias' mind, undermine everything that they had worked for. "Few years ago you'da just shot someone for speaking to you like that."

Adrien leans back and grunts, "Yeah great idea, let's just go shoot her." His words dripped with sarcasm and irritation. "She reacted just the way she should, she's hurting and she's at the end of her rope. And don't forget without them I might not even be here. We owe them. I owe them."

"Why are you defending her? When are you going to let it go?" Tobias snapped back. "I've seen you chase tail and let it cloud your judgement for years and one thing is always constant. Read. My. Lips. It's never going to happen! Stop putting-

Adrien slammed his hand down on the desk then stood up, "That's not the frakken point and you frakken know it." Grinding his teeth with his jaw clinched he stared at his brother for a long silence before he scoffed and shook his head. "I need them. I need Fel. And if they feel indebted to us then maybe they'll help me."

In stunned silence Tobias stares at Adrien for a few moments. "Help you what?" He asked cautiously.

Adrien walked around his desk and leaned on the edge, he sighed once again as he pondered how to approach the subject and then after a few moments he looked at Tobias. "I made a mistake and I have to fix it. And I only know one way how." He could tell that Tobias didn't really know what he was talking about so he knew he'd have to elaborate. "We have to go and see her again."

Tobias was still visibly confused but only for a moment as he watched the fearful expression form on his brother's face. And then suddenly as the realization of what Adrien was asking came to him Tobias snapped back with, "No." He shook his head and turned away from Adrien. "We can't, I won't."

Adrien stepped up to his brother and wrapped his arms around him from behind to stop him from going anywhere, he could feel Tobias' heart racing. "We have to."

Trying to pull away, "No, I can't."

"Please, Brother, we have to. Please." Adrien pleaded.

Tobias, always the big brother, began to struggle less and less at Ade's pleas until he stopped completely and Adrien let go. "The price was too high then and we couldn't pay it." He turned to face Adrien. "What makes you think we can pay it now?"

"Because we have to, because it's the only way." Adrien stepped back away from Tobias, "But I think we can figure out a way around it this time." But for this service there wasn't a price he wouldn't pay.

Tobias stood quietly for a moment as he gathered his thoughts before he spoke again, "Alright little brother, come up with your plan, but if I feel like it won't work we walk away. Understand? There's no shame in it."

"Deal." He was lying of course, if no one would help him he would do it on his own but he knew his chances of success would drop dramatically without others there with him. A shallow smile crept across his face, "I'm gonna head to my room and get some rest, first thing in the morning I have a much different plan to come up with." He turned and walked out the door toward the sleeping quarters, it wasn't far from the bar where Karana and company had headed off to, in fact he could faintly hear them in there as he turned down his hallway and entered his room. He needed a hot shower, a bottle of whiskey, and a good night's sleep. But for now he'd settle for the brand new bottle of whiskey sitting on his minibar.