Logged October 12, 2001 Logged by Masala Titled: You know it's a bad day when... ****************************************************************************** Characters: Achlan Ba'sha Masala ****************************************************************************** Achlan strides into the Cantina, glad to be back on his homeworld at last. He puts on his superior sneer as he enters, and indulges in one of his favourite tricks - stepping directly in front of low-class slaves who are trying to get out of his way. But that game is getting boring, so he walks over to the bar and orders himself a beer - the danger of drunkenness seems appealing at the moment. Masala leans back in his chair, his boots resting comfortably atop his table. His eyes wander over the cantina as he swirls his brandy methodically. They rivet upon a Sith unlike any other in the establishment. He quickly looks away, then glances back on the one who's gut tells him, could only be a Sith Lord. He glances back again, his eyes narrowing slightly and decides if the Lord looks his way it would be prudent to make himself less noticeable and sinks slightly in his chair. Achlan takes his Corellian ale from the bartender, and attacks it with a vengeance. Within moments, he is aware of the alcohol flowing into his stomach and bloodstream. With a slight feeling of giddiness he looks around the room for something to soothe his boredom. Hmm, the man with the ponytail is trying to avoid his notice - that looks like an opportunity for some fun. Turning directly to face Masala, he smiles a wicked smile, and lowers his head into a predator's stare. Masala averts his eyes immediately after having gained the Lord's unwanted attention. He glances at his boots, admiring the keen polish and trying to look bored as he takes a large gulp of his brandy and hopes the Lord goes away. With a rub of his nose he glances toward three Sith guards seated at the table next to him. Masala wiggles uncomfortably with feet still planted firmly on the table as he dares a look back toward the menacing Lord for a brief second. Achlan stalks over to Masala's table and pulls out the chair that is immediately across from him. It occurs to him that the techniques he was practising on Corellia would be worth trying here, to see how people react. Continuing his predatory stare, he asks, "Can I buy you a drink?" He's sure no lord would have asked the slave a question like that before. Masala gazes directly into your eyes for only a moment then lowers his gaze, places his drink down and throws his legs off the table. He then bows his head as he slides from his seat and kneels down on one leg and slamming a fist to his heart says "I live to serve M'lord." He keeps his head lowered and dropping his arm adds "You are most gracious M'lord." Masala remains kneeling until the Lord commands him otherwise. Achlan looks down at Masala with dissatisfaction. This slave knows his place perfectly, has accepted the drink but saluted properly and is obeying all the forms. At this rate, he'll have nobody to torture all day. After waiting a few moments, he says, "Return to your seat, slave," then beckons a waitress to attend at their table. Masala stands slowly, careful to keep his steel grey eyes averted from the Sith Lord as they wander over the other patrons. He feels utterly naked at this moment and curses himself for having left his blaster in his ship. He retakes his chair, now sitting across from this powerful being and begins to reach for the rest of his brandy then quickly lowers his hand and decides to leave it. His head remains slightly lowered and his focus turns to the brandy before him as he awaits the Lord to speak again. Achlan looks at Masala reaching for his drink, then withdrawing his hand. Reaching forward, he picks up the glass and smells the contents - a very strong form of alcohol, this drink. Showing the glass to the waitress who has walked over, he says, "More of this." Then puts the glass down on the table and pushes it over to Masala and says, "Drink." This should be amusing, whatever the slave's reason for not drinking, he will find out what it is soon. Masala glances up at the Lord forgetting his place for a moment then all within a second, averts them once again, a small grin breaking through briefly on an otherwise emotionless face as he reaches carefully for his drink. Hefting the glass to his nose, he inhales its fragrance before taking a small sip. Having done this, his eyes focus on the brandy as he swirls it gently in his hand. He licks his lips and says "You honour me M'lord, may I know for what I owe this generosity." There was a time when Masala would have been much more daring, but that was long ago. Besides he has a great job now and would hate to lose all those fringe benefits. Achlan looks across at Masala and delights at the tiny breach in protocol. Not enough to punish the man for, but then again, who really needs an excuse anyway? Now to answer the question - but how to do it for the best effect? "No, you may not." He grins. That's a suitably nasty response, with a little luck Masala will begin to fear soon. Then the drinks arrive, another two glasses of brandy, and he picks up one of the glasses and sips it the way that Masala is doing. Masala flicks his eyes toward the server, his gaze following the new brandy to the table. He lifts his near empty drink to his lips and tilts his head back draining the glass. He then carefully sets the glass on the table, the brandy warming him and causing a crooked smirk to appear on his face as he notices the Lord repeating his motions. In a smooth baritone voice he says "Thank you M'lord." Masala is beginning to feel very uncomfortable, he considers.. why has this Sith Lord seated himself with me. A job offer perhaps, or heh more likely to simply torment me. Achlan gazes at Masala a little unevenly, tilting his head to one side. Pushing the full glass of brandy across the table he says, "Drink," and turns over to the waitress again and roars, "More!" for a moment, his voice is unnaturally loud, as if amplified by something, but the effect disappears after a moment. Turning back to Masala, he reaches out, trying to gauge the level of fear in the man, trying to establish a connection that will allow him to know if his efforts to scare are succeeding. Masala takes his second brandy offered by Achlan. He lifts this new brandy to his nose once again, enjoying the aroma and then drinks sparingly before setting it on the table in front of him. His mind is racing now.... Is the Lord trying to get him drunk, by the gods don't even think where that might be leading. Has he never drank brandy before, could the Lord be getting tipsy? Achlan squints across the table at Masala, wondering why it is that his mind refuses to focus. As he tries to focus on the man immediately in front of him, his mind is distracted and dragged over to the whirlpool of force power approaching. One of the Acolytes, a lesser god but a rank above Achlan, enters the Cantina and looks across at the pair at the table. "Achlan Hak'de," says the acolyte, "You are commanded to attend Darth Wyld in the Fortress immediately." Turning directly to the pilot he has never seen before, the Acolyte speaks, "Masala Parnasis, you also are commanded to attend in the Fortress." That said, the Acolyte turns and leaves, leaving behind his escort of four palace guards. Masala glances up toward the entrance of the cantina as a group of Sith guards enter lead by another of his drinking partners kind. He is careful not to gaze upon the Acolyte with Achlan seated across from him. He is taken aback as another Sith Lord speaks to him and he peers up at this new being in disbelief for a few seconds before lowering his gaze once again and prepares to follow his benefactors. Achlan rises to his feet and joins the guards and Masala as they head towards the door, stumbling over his chair in the process. Angry at the chair, he turns and gestures at it for a moment, smiling to himself as the chair picks itself up off the ground and flies across the room to crash into a wall. But he didn't throw it hard enough to break anything - oh well, never mind, nothing is ever perfect. As he walks with the group towards the citadel, he thinks about what he knows of Darth Wyld - a gifted warrior, but far too soft by all accounts. Travel to fortress - fade to black The elevator doors *ding* open and the Sith Guards approach the massive Lord in the center of the room at the security terminal, looking out over the massive wall of monitors keeping track of the Fortress's various comings and goings. They kneel and report, "His Lordship and the Slaver Masala as you requested sir." Ba'Sha Sa'Vath, Darth Wyld of Krath waves off the Guards without even turning around, and as his elite bodyguards step respectfully off the man finally turns around and glances them over, "Masala. I have business for you to perform." He gestures towards the Conference Room, "I believe that is unused." He then nods his head in ever so slight a bow to Achlan, "Initiate, you may attend as well, you may find it boring, but I would ask it of you anyway. We have much to discuss." Masala follows Achlan, his eyes taking in every aspect of this incredible fortress as the Sith guards usher him into what appears to be some sort of command center. It takes him but a second to notice the powerful aura of the New Sith Lord in the room. Masala learned his place long ago and without hesitation bows his head and kneels on one knee. Immediately he slams a fist to his chest and in a smooth baritone says "I live to serve M'lord" His head bowed slightly while he awaits his next command. Achlan Hak'de, beloved Initiate of clan Krath, is unable to supress a grin as he returns a deep bow to the clan leader's nod. This Darth is weak enough to ASK an initiate to fulfil his desires - how did he climb to the top of the clan? "It would please me to grant your request," he says, unable to restrain himself to silence. If the Hak'de family had produced warriors as great as they Sa'Vath in earlier generations, then things would be different now, oh so different. Ba'sha nods his head, "Masala, to the conference room." He sizes up Achlan momentarily with a raised eyebrow and then a corner of his mouth on one side tugs up into what could pass for a grin but winds up looking more like a sinister and knowing smile, "I often phrase things as a request in the interests of politeness Hak'de, do not believe the phrasing ever gives you an option, my requests are your law." And without so much as a glance at Achlan's response the Lord begins slowly moving for the conference room. Masala stands and follows Ba'sha, grinning to himself as he thinks ... What a night, suddenly I'm mister popular with the Sith Lords, gods only know what they have in mind with me. His eyes lift to peer into the darkness of Ba'sha and he again curses himself for having left his blaster on the ship. Politeness, hah. It may be required when dealing with unpredictable foreigners, but at home it is surely a sign of weakness in front of Achlan. With an equally twisted grin, he bows deeply again, a bow so deep that it is almost (but not quite) a mockery. Raising to his full height, Achlan looks at the middle of Wyld's back, contemplating that the big ones are generally the most stupid - perhaps the supposedly great general believes that politeness is to be expected with lessors as well as equals. This reminds him of Masala - how interesting that the general has business with this slave. Thinking of slaves and their uses, he touches his face and remembers the lesson he was taught while visiting Sato Prine - a lesson in pain and torture, a lesson that the lord would take what it suited him to take, and that lesser beings would suffer if that was what he wished. Now the Prines know how to be lords, he thinks. Random brutality combined with intelligence - this is clearly the lesson his father wanted him to learn, the reason he had been sent to Teta. Until the Krath begin to learn how to command obedience and to subjugate their conquests, the Thethu will continue to rise and the original Sith will fall into their shadow. The doors close behind the group of their own accord seemingly, and then steel blast doors slam shut over them, the lights flicker momentarily, and then all is normal. Effects totally ignored by Ba'Sha as he strolls to a seat at the head of the U table, "Sit. Both of you." With that he begins moving his hands over the control panel of his chair as he speaks, "Slave Masala, you are a slaver are you not? Judging by your past record a fairly competent one." Masala seats himself and sits rigidly then grins toward the reasonable Lord Ba'sha, however careful not to gaze upon the Sith Master and nods "Aye M'lord, I can get you the finest slaves in the known galaxies M'lord if that is your desire." He does however glance toward Achlan for a moment then lowers his gaze and becomes silent once again. Achlan notes that the great general must be afraid of something to have sealed the room so thoroughly. Closing his eyes, he opens himself to the flows of the force to ride the general's fear. But he finds no fear when he reaches out to the lord, just the normal whirlpools of concentrated power that he always sees when he looks at a powerful Sith. Eyes still closed, he takes a seat at the table across from Masala and extends his awareness there. Aah, lots of delightful tension and fear, like a luxurious hot-tub. Ba'sha nods his head as his hands now rest over the controls, and a picture of a young and beautiful, but hard, woman fills the screen behind him, along with scrolling dossier information and a sparse background, "This woman, is Naomi, she escaped from Krath Custody during a visit to Corellia. On your next trip to neutral space for slaves, find her, and bring her back to me. You will be rewarded for success." And of course horribly destroyed for failure, "Do you believe you can accomplish this task?" The Sith Warrior's voice is smooth and calm, dark and glossy as polished obsidian, almost bored actually, but unmistakably determined. Masala watches the picture and listens carefully as the Lord speaks. His eyes narrow slightly near the end of Ba'sha's speech and with a slight nod says "Aye M'lord, if she walks the streets I can get her." He gulps uncontrollably and continues to peer at the picture, finally having something semi interesting to gaze at for the last few hours. Achlan senses the screen coming to life and opens his eyes to look at the woman on the screen. So fierce-looking, that woman. And then he remembers where he has seen the name before - she was involved in one of the more publicised embarrassments for the Republic government. She was abducted on Coruscant itself, despite the intervention of two Jedi. And to add insult to injury, the man who abducted her was released from prison as a 'victim of police brutality'. He laughs gently to himself, with an enemy like that, the Sith will undoubtedly conquer the galaxy. Ba'sha nods his head, waving a hand dismissively, because in fact, "You are dismissed then Slave Masala. I will keep an eye on you anxiously for results, all this information will be sent to you, and a contingent of guards is set to accompany you to Neutral space." The General grins maliciously, "For your protection of course." And the unsaid but understood continuance is 'and to put a blast rifle bolt through your head if you screw up.' He nods, "That will be all." He raises a sarcastic eyebrow, "Unless there are pressing questions just burning through you?" Masala immediately slips out of his seat just as he had done only hours ago and kneels down on one knee and clenching a fist to his heart says "I live to serve M'lord, as you command" as he rises to leave he turns toward Ba'sha wondering if the High Lord is trying to trick him and nods without gazing to him and with a slight grin adds "No questions M'lord" then turns slowly and departs in disbelief that he lives. END OF LOG