~______________________________________________________________________________________________________________~



Drayshl’a honestly couldn’t decide on who had looked more terrified by the presence of the unassumingly small Mandalorian - the di'kut* now scrambling to the other side of the street to avoid their paths crossing or the unfortunate Hutt she had painstakingly decollated not even 10 hours prior to finding herself loitering before the phosphorescent tavern. The Hunter followed his discomfort with ample amusement, noting the longer she trained her glare on the poor fellow the faster his feet hit the ground.
Di’kutla.*
The entirety of the exchange lasted no longer than a minute before he found the next corner, but she hadn’t needed to probe the aruetiise* to know it felt it had lasted him a lifetime. She sneered. Even without the elements of prestige and secrecy Mandolorian helmets always seemed to afford the warriors as it lay shielded betwixt the side of the her torso and arm, most were still wise enough to give the Bounty Hunter a generous birth.
With the past time walking down another street she lolled her head from side to side, feeling the contents of her Cigarra finally begin to seep in. After a childhood of Slavery, years at the academy and what now already felt like a lifetime of picking up contracts - little could ultimately unwind her muscles, but every blunted edge helped... The hunter mused on how many might've hurled themselves at the Echani Half-Breed for a handout if she hadn’t adorned her traditional Beskar'gam* returning the pre-roll to her lips, noting its sudden reluctance to deliver on the cloying aroma in the sodden weather. The constant drizzle from the sky had been as insistent as Dralshy’a had been on ignoring it running haphazardly through the ivory strands draped across her breastplate but now the Bounty Hunter gawked at the dampened Cigarra as the onset of acrimony seized her chest.
Chakaarycs!* Her conscious growled, they make nothing for themselves but expect others to pave their way! She found the concept as disgusting as Slaves idly remitting their lives waiting to be freed by another.
“Haar'chak!!*”
She snuffed the cigarra out in the torrent below with a bellow, forgetting it to fizzle to its end as quickly as she did the bothersome sentiments trying to burn their way to the forefront of her mind as she straightened. “Pah! I need a Beer,” Drayshl’a huffed out in her last expiring lungful of smoke, but she barely swayed from her position in the drizzle. The ire grasping the womans chest seemed to wash away with the rain and she shivered as the somber nostalgia of Aay'han* crept over her heart to replace it instead. She wouldn't be finding comfort in the dry for a few minutes longer. A sense of sobriety washed over Dralshy’a’s conscious in recognition of the upcoming ritual and she found the names of long lost loved ones and felled comrades already marching across the forefront of her mind listlessly before she could begin reciting. Every day she revisited her most beloved in her mind as she continued to endure, in true Mandolorian fashion.
Gathering the locks of snow from her armor she returned her black and gold helmet unto its proper perch, assuming an attentive position as the memoir began to solemnly loll off the Echani’s lips.
"Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.* O'dain. Zandoran. Runose. Orinth. Val." The drone faded into the hush of the rain and nearly two minutes later ended as abruptly as it began (in true mando fashion) with a final name.
Satisfied the hunter turned her stride towards the entrance of the Tavern, sparing the azure haired Anya stumbling out no more than an menacing acknowledgement from behind the ambiguous visor. If by chance Anya witnessed the personal inspection before she turned her sights to the keep, she may have noted the unmistakable glow of the Dark sides influence in the Mandolorians eyes radiating from inside the helm.
"Ni copaani T'ad Ne'tra buy'ce Gal!"* tearing her disinterested gaze from Anya the words left her mouth before she could fully assess the main floor in its new dappled lighting, demanding two pints of Black Ale in her own Mando’a tongue. She had never needed to translate for a bot before, and hopefully for the keeps sake this wouldn’t be the first.

(edited to make the ending a little more open to interaction.)

~______________________________________________________________________________________________________________~

MAIN FLOOR

Elizabeth walked through the doors of the surprisingly spacious bar. She had just recently touched down in some random port and hooked up to the technological wonder that she now found herself within. Clad in a black, tight-fitting t-shirt, blue jeans, and black combat boots, Elizabeth made her way to the bar. She wore a somewhat dissatisfied scowl on her face as large black wings were curled behind her back. Her long tail swished around the legs of her chair as she sat down. Ordering a pint of mead, Elizabeth's robotic eye scanned the area. However, with the place being nothing more than a program, her eye was unable to pick up on anything extra. As such, she received the seemingly ordinary glass of mead with a metallic arm the clasped the glass with just enough force to bring it to the edge of shattering. Then, taking a swig, she swung around in her chair, pulled out a sign, and placed it on the bar next to her. The sign read:

LOOKING FOR WORK OR SOMETHING FUN TO DO.

@Styxx Acheron

As the form of digits form around him, he stood still. Been there, done that many times before, except, this seemed different. He approached the bar doors, and swung them open, eyes baggy, wanting to relax. The bar, surprisingly barren, was a luxury not usually experienced, and he sauntered over to a seat next to the bar. He took off his backpack and cloaking device behind him, leaving the sniper slung around his shoulders. He peered 2 seats over, and noticed a rather strange, but quite attractive and young face. He motioned for the robot barman to come over and said blankly, still looking at this woman, "Get me a Pincer Vodka, on the rocks, and add some lime to it. Full Glass. Oh, and just add it to my tab." The harder he looked at this woman, the more he perplexed over her. Her gentle face, and young eyes, yet also the wings and tail. The robot came back, and slid the cold glass over. His eyes yearned for such a treat, and now it was face to face with him. He took a deep swig, and coughed a little as he slammed it down. The corners of his eyes blackened for a second, but he collected himself. He had forgotten how such a strong vodka kicked. He suddenly realized, "This is a simulation, and I can get as wasted as I want, and i'll still be sober when i get out." He remembered the woman that had perplexed him so much before, and looked at her across a few chairs. He flicked his head up, a sort of premature greeting, and crossed the two seat gap. "It's just a simulation, if I really fuck this up, I can just port out and leave, kinda a waste of a good vodka though, eh." he thought as he sat down. He stared into her eyes and managed to get the clog in his throat out and managed to say a, "Hello there."

Elizabeth Penree - Main Floor

Elizabeth opened her eyes as some random guy sat down next to her. Looking over she immediately noticed the hands, arm, and leg. They gave off a different infrared color than the rest of the man's body. Intrigued, she began to speak.

"And you are?" asked Elizabeth as she placed the pint of mead on the counter behind her. Twisting, she used her right arm to prop herself up in the counter. Its black, metalic surface gleamed in the dark light as her right eye, spinning in a robotic manner, scanned the man up and down. Surprisingly, he had an object that gave off a different set of electromagnetic radiation on him. Laughing just a bit, Elizabeth continued.

"Cloaking device? Interesting..." Pausing for a moment, Elizabeth carried on, "Who made your hands, arm, and leg?"

@Drakey

Clad in black from head to toe, save for the chain clipped to a belt loop that led back to the wallet in his back pocket, and the two handles of the pistols in the holsters at each hip, Grim cut a dark figure as he stepped into the virtual bar. The low lights of the place flashed glimpses of the spiraling dragon tattoo on his wrist and forearm, leading up to the rolled up sleeves of his button down shirt. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, slightly exposing high collarbones and naturally tanned skin. Golden eyes scanned the bar, pupils contracting into slits for a moment to adjust to the light. His lips quirked when he saw the sign next to the only woman in there. He hung back for a minute when another male with robotic body parts went and sat next to her.

Tilting his head in thought, black stetson covering an eye from view, he hummed a small snatch of a song. Internally shrugging, he walked to the seat in the other side of the woman, noting her draconic features and black metal arm. His chain jingled as he walked and sat down. He motioned to the robotic bartender.

"Jack Daniels whisky," he drawled in the Texan accent that had not faded one bit in all his years roaming the states. "Just bring the whole bottle, partner." He turned to the woman and touched the brim of his hat.

"Evening, Miss," he murmured. He kept his senses open to asses the other male though, and his hand slid up to his left bicep to feel the hidden set of blades strapped there. Another set was on the other arm. He always came prepared. Even in virtual circumstances. He took the bottle from the bartender and poured some whisky into a square shot glass.

He began to comfort himself to his surroundings, and took another sip of the vodka. "Azreal. Dunno whom'st the cloakin' device was made by, got it when I was workin'. These puppy's," he said as he pointed to his cold, hard arm, and knocked on it, "were funded by my job as well, as I had lost all the normal bits, but I made em' all of it, even if I didn't pay for them. Pretty proud of them too."

He questioned slightly how she knew that he had cybernetics, but brushed it off. Who knows what type of things she could see, she had a tail for god's sake. "You are?" Just as he said that, he realized that another man, with a thick Texan accent, came in as he said this. He decided to recognize him and flick his head up to him as he had done to the woman a few moments before. Just after he did this, he took another sip from his vodka, and slid his glasses onto his forehead, revealing sharp, green eyes.

He then began to scratch the back of his head, and lower left arm. As he began to look at this guy more and more, he realized his piercings and his large tattoo on his arm. He saw out of the corner of his eye that he was feeling up his bicep and got slightly worried, remembering an event that transpired when he lived in the slums. He took another sip of the vodka, and relieved himself, as he looked back at the woman, so strange before, but he was warming up to her. Even it was slowly.

This might get interesting

@Styxx Acheron@BespeckledCeph

Elizabeth smiled as she heard about the Azrael's self-made cybernetics. While she wasn't enough of an arse to say, Elizabeth thought that the work was shoddy and weak. It was just enough to give him back his limbs, nothing more. Not forgetting her sign, Elizabeth placed it in a more open area, just as another man entered the pub. Walking up to the bar, Elizabeth made a mental note of the weapons he carried. Twin pistols, interesting.

After taking a seat, he greeted both her and Azrael. THough, it irked Elizabeth when he called her miss. A venomous tone slipped from Elizabeth's lips as she responded to the man. "Don't call me miss. That's what you call a woman, not a beast." Her cybernetic eye burrowed into the texan's own. Spinning, back and forth, it was easy to see the machinations in the electric blue iris. Blinking, Elizabeth was taken back, ever so slightly, by the man's form. His body was giving off heat, but it was different than that of a normal human. Obviously, he was something else.

Then, noticing the movements of his hands, Elizabeth's eyes narrowed. A look of warning crossed her face as tiny arcs of electricity started to run down her hair and across the scales of her wings and tail. "I would suggest that you keep your hands on your bottle." Elizabeth's warning came out smoothly as she hoped the man would follow it.

@Drakey@BespeckledCeph

Grim touched the brim of his hat to Azrael in respect, then turned to the draconic female. 

"You may be a 'beast,' but you are still a female, are you not?" Grim drawled causally, refusing to get irritated with a female he barely knew. "In my book, that makes you a 'Miss,' and it's how i show respect." He met her half mechanical blue gaze with a golden one, pupils turning to slits, reflecting the light. He tilted his head at her in a very feline way when she suggested he keep his hands on his Jack Daniels. He smiled, and purposely flashed a sharp looking canine at her.

"I suggest you not tell me what to do," he purred. "I'm older, and more dangerous than you may think, young one." Oh, yes, he knew she was young, he could smell the youth in her skin and scales. He could also smell the ozone that shimmered over them. "Don't think to shock me. You'll never make contact."

He let his form shimmer out of eyesight for a few heartbeats, then solidified. He knocked back his shot of whisky and poured another, all while his hand remained on his bicep. Then, tired of the posturing, he removed his hand from his bicep to take of his stetson and to shake out his neck length brown black hair. 

"I came for a drink, Draco," He used the latin term for dragon. "Not a fight. And neither, it seems, did you." He motioned to her sign, and bit his lip ring in thought.

@Drakey @Styxx Acheron
Azrael scowled at this man disapprovingly, such disrespect would be punishable in his own household, and now this guy was saying this to someone he didn't even know. He mumbled in a low, serious tone, "Just ignore him, he'll either warm up and show some respect to strangers, or get bored."

He took a deep sip of vodka as he said this, and mentioned, "So, what's your story anyways, how did you end up here? Must be awfully enticing for a woman of yourself." He looked and smiled to her as he said this. Not a, look at "my shiny teeth and me" smile, just a, comforting, calming smile.

He took one last sip. Empty. The robot came over and added more vodka with lime, and went back to whatever they do. He looked over her one more time, this time, focusing on the more "Human" parts of her, very subtly, and realized how young she really was. At the same time of this realization, another one came on.

He asked in a very spacey manner, as he began to space into his glass of vodka, "What's your name anyways?"

@Styxx Acheron@BespeckledCeph

"Your right, cat, I would never hit you with lightning. It's far too inaccurate. However, if you tried to kill me, you would be the one in pain." Elizabeth smiled at the texan next to her. She had decided to call him cat because of his eyes, and because there were no other traits by which to identify him. Well, that was until he shimmered. Her eye caught it all. The man's form didn't shimmer. It flashed, in and out. Too quickly for her to notice what the other form was, but it happened nonetheless.

"No, I did not com here for a fight. I came here for a reason." Slamming her now empty pint glass on the bar, Elizabeth roared in laughter. The woman was sufficiently drunk now...

"Azrael, the name's Elizabeth, Lady of Storm and Blade. Whatever you do, don't call me anything other than cap't, boss, or Elizabeth." Turning towards the Cat, a rosy drop of color appeared in her pale cheeks as a drunken smile pervaded her system. "I'm looking for a crew. I'm looking for a pilot and a gunner. Would either of you be interested?"

@Drakey

Main Floor

Demetree stood up from his third jack and coke. He had been hanging around the place the last couple of days; his attempts at job hunting had been miserable, to say the least. With his money tight, drinking in this VR was the only thing he could really afford. As he had sat there nursing his drink and giving a stink eye to anyone that looked at him (though he was too drunk to remember that behind his shaded glasses it just kinda looked creepy) he could not have helped but overhear the weird woman's declaration.

The air hung with a pregnant pause as everyone nearby was stunned. The two she was addressing certainly had no words for her. So Demetree, armed with good timing, and the courage found at the bottom of a bottle, boldly strode up next to her. He moved his glasses up onto his forehead and with a broad smile said "Well, miss scary dragon lady. If you're looking for a gunner, you'll be pleased to know that im a rather decent shot myself- and looking for work." The liquor lent him the confidence he needed to try and oversell himself a bit.

@Drakey (Sorry I haven't responded in a while ;-;, and sorry it's so short, kinda ded)

As Azrael returned from his spaced and shocked state, he looked at Elizabeth soothing. He looked around and saw another man saying that he wanted to be a gunner. There was only one spot now. He looked into her eyes, and stared as much a drunk could. He didn't realize that his cheeks were bright red. The only thing that mattered now was to get with this girl. Azrael recounted how 1 glass of vodka became 6, and he's utterly wasted. It didn't matter to him.

He managed to blurt out, very slurred, "You know what?" He put his arm over her shoulder, and approached, now only a few inches from her face. He put the glass down and said, "I'm in, I might know how to fly, I might not, who knows, this crew needs a pilot to fly though, I'll be that...yeah." He backed off now, and passed out on the table. The vodka finally hit him where it mattered.

His meeting with the returning ambassadors could have gone better. They had failed to follow the most rudimentary security measures and he had had to assign them all to a refresher course. Some on an extended one, one even to retake the whole bloody thing. As for Zelthis, it had been for the best to send him back to the testing labs for safekeeping. The whole thing had left him with a sour mood. All this could have been avoided. Idiots.

He considered his options for spending the rest of the night. He could head on back where he had been, that was surely an option. But then again, he would not want to expose those people to his current state of mind. That was the place where he went when he was happy, to amplify it. No, now would be time for something completely different. When the Fleet had arrived to UFP governed space, the message to make their allegiances clear had not been the only thing they had received. Apparently there was some sort of a virtual reality bar here. Virne smirked and sat back in his chair, letting the interfacing procedure run its course. And not long after, he would be walking through the doors.

---

The first thing he noted was that this place felt... real. He knew it was virtual, yet it seemed to know how to exactly react to his sheer mass. He smiled as his steps made an impact against the ground and small quakes extended from him to the surroundings. Promising. Perhaps the rest of it would prove to be as authentic as well. The doors to the Main Floor swung open before him, his grin widening as he realised he didn't even have to duck despite his immense frame. Yes, maybe, just maybe, this place would prove to be worthy of his patronage.

A gaggle of different sorts of folk were currently arguing or debating about something at the bar, a sign stating 'LOOKING FOR WORK OR SOMETHING FUN TO DO' set up next to them. They, or at least the one of them that just collapsed seemed too inebriated to really prove to be worth much to him, however. Besides, he was here to check the place out, not hire outside contractors. Yet. He approached the counter and made his order with a stern, slightly echoing voice: "Tom Collins. Two of. In the same glass, if I may request." In a virtual reality such a request should not prove to be a problem, no?

@Hekazu

Seltak stepped out of a side room with another man, well dressed in his 3 piece suit. Looking the man in the eye, he shook his hand and bid him goodbye. The business deal had gone well, another satisfied client. Of course, exposing a cheating wife wasn’t nearly as exciting as one would think. Usually the culprit was the client’s best friend or neighbor, and usually there was enough digital evidence to be found within a few days. He rarely even needed to use his nanites for these small jobs. Problem was, there wasn’t anyone calling to ask for big jobs. So he was forced to either take the low paying easy jobs, or become a farmer.

Walking up to the bar, he noticed a few drunks harassing a woman, who happened to be looking for work. While he wasn’t hurting for money, neither was he looking to hire out what he did have. Since she didn't seem to be in any stress, he moved on. Not that he had the ability to really do anything anyway. Moving towards the other end of the bar, there was only two seats left open, both near a very large statue. Not sure if it was robotic or not, Seltak took a seat, leaving one seat between him and the tin man. The bartender had just delivered the man’s drink, allowing Seltak to order his.

“I’ll take a beer, keep it in the glass. “ The bartender nodded and went about its work. Pulling out his small personal computer, he started looking through his upcoming contracts. Not to his surprise, no new requests had come in, leaving a nice blank screen to greet him. It was interesting that he could still communicate with the net while in this reality, however, his nanites inside never responded. He had tried long ago to hack into this virtual reality, but the creators were far beyond his technical abilities. The feeling of him without his nanites used to make him feel uncomfortable. Now he just went about his business.

@Brocktree@BespeckledCeph@Drakey@Hekazu

Grim was miffed when the draconic female told Azrael what she would have people call her-Lady of Storm and Blade? What the actual fuck? Here she is, getting irritated with his calling her Miss as a sign of respect to a stranger who's clearly female, and then she says she's a lady? Fucking whatever.

After Elizabeth's announcement everybody seemed eager to offer ther services to her. He knocked back what remained of his Jack Daniels and waited as the last male offered his services as a pilot before passing out blind drunk. He took everyone in, and in a voice loud enough for all of them, he stated what he could do.

"I'm excellent with blades of many sizes, guns of different calibers and I am extremely good at hand to hand combat," he paused to take a breath. "I speak several Native American dialects, English, Spanish, Irish, French, and Russian. I'm also an excellent spy," he said without ego or boasting, for he was simply stating what he knew to be facts. He decided to leave out his heightened senses and reflexes. He knew he already sounded like he was trying to weed out competition. He poured himself another shot of Jack Daniels and surveyed everyone with calm amber eyes, pupils shifting into slits to better see details in everyone's clothing, body language and facial expressions.

The alchemist calmly open the door to the quaint tavern,careful to close the door quickly behind him. His heterochromatic eyes scanned the place. They briefly fell upon the drunken draconic femaleI wonder if she would be willing to donate her fangs?. He chuckled slightly at the thought and walked over to the bar counter,taking a seat at the furthest barstool to the left. Seclusion was always his specialty. It wasn't that he didn't like interaction,hell, he even enjoyed it but if he could be alone then he would. The robotic bartender shambled towards him and spoke in a computer generated voice."Welcome to the-". The alchemist raised his hand to interject,responding in a calm tone,warm and inviting."I'm good actually, carry on". The robot shambled back to whatever task he was doing before, leaving Flynt alone.

Well..I've got nothing better to do... He flipped his satchel open and dug around in it for a few moments. He produced a stone mortar and pestle,along with several bottle filled with strange liquids. From a side pocket on his vest he produced several bunches of a strange root. He slipped his bronze goggles on and proceeded to grind the root into a fine powder.Does this one violently explode?Only one way to find out... He hummed a pleasant tune while he did his work.

Elizabeth watched as those around her began to keel over from being too drunk. Smiling to herself, she walked out of the bar. Almost immediately, the feeling of being inebriated left her. Pulling up the contact info for the three she just talked to, Elizabeth sent them the coordinates for Reikhelm. Laughing in the cool night breeze, Elizabeth logged out.

There were a few new appearances, settling down where they did. None of them seemed to take an immediate interest in the Duke, or at least they did not initiate conversation with him. He received his drink from the bartender with no need to even pay directly: The system would handle that automatically. He snickered as he thought of it encountering the Ragnarov Fleet rubles, but it could probably find some sort of a common communications interface with ACASIAS to sort that thing out. Or they would not serve him further. Whichever worked for him, really.

But it seemed the amount of people was not only on the rise, given how the dragon lady made her way away with not as much as a sentence, the sign disappearing with her. She had had enough. Virne shrugged and let out a disappointed hum, taking another sip of his drink. To break the air of people refusing to talk to one another, he opened his mouth and let his voice boom in the room: "Well wasn't she in a hurry. I barely got here and she is already gone." The sentiment was mostly a joke, but he still wondered if she had seen members of his race somewhere before. He could remember creatures quite like her existing on his home planet while it still existed.

The eyes of the Lardanerus scanned the group that was still left behind, many of them appearing quite ordinary in comparison. The most intriguing case had to be the man fooling around with the vials some distance away. Virne frowned at the sight and would have bit his lip if his form was capable of. That sort of an action would never stand in the Fleet, but here he was not the boss. It actually bothered him somewhat.

Demetree stood there, rather annoyed at being passed by the dragon lady- she had maybe looked at him for two seconds, before staring at the other two and then stalking off. Shit like that was gonna give Demetree an aneurysm some say, he was sure of it. He angrily asked the bartender for the highest proof whiskey they had, and sat down in her seat. He was about to start ranting before checking his mailbox and realizing she had just sent him coordinates. "Fuck." he muttered to himself- the guy had no ship to begin with, so getting there might be expensive.

Suddenly a loud baritone voice declared its unimpression with the woman and he felt rather inclined to agree. The bartender handed him his whisky and Demetree downed it shortly, and made his way over to the man in question, nodding solemnly. "She's got some serious balls to walk in here like that, like she owns the place." Demetree felt incredibly insulted that she just upped and walked away, and was willing to bond over that anger and annoyance. He extended his hand: "Demetree."

@Hekazu

The Duke was rather amused by the fact this human offered his hand to him. After all, the size difference between them was quite notable, made even more obvious when the metal man reached for the extended hand and wrapped his around it. "Duke Rexes Virne, Ragnarov Fleet. People are right eccentric at times, so her behaviour was nothing new to me", he returned the greeting and let go of his hand. "Is just right peculiar, leaving like that if she was s'posed to be looking for work. But it is none of my business in the end", he mused before taking another sip of his drink.

He turned to have a better look at the human, surprising himself with just how... irrelevant he looked. With him being so used to the members of the council, a creature this ordinary... it was almost fascinating to him. He decided to play along, to keep the chat rolling about the arrogance of the woman: "Yet I've already made it my business, so might as well keep at it. Do you know her? You two, or three, maybe four, were talking."

@Brocktree