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- Jan 23, 2020
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This was no ordinary evening for the man who calmly made his way down the winding stone pathways of the Chandrilan architecture. He had never been to this planet before, but it seemed his other half recognized the area somewhat, guiding him towards the main city center. Kanos doubted he'd have found himself here under any circumstance beyond the present, which was something of a personal matter to him. The Vahla was here to find one of his own, a former Paladin of New Vahla, who'd taken leave of the planet and used the skills he learned during the Revolution, as The Alasdaire did. This Vahla in particular had been a Captain, and a thorn in Alasdaire's side before he had even become a member of the Eternal. It was he who led the forces that slew the majority of his family, and he'd spent years tracking the being down.
Chandrila. This place was once proud and noble... how far they have fallen.
You have been here before?
Once. Long before your time.
It turned up that the old Vahla had taken to doing mercenary work, and made a name for himself as a new hired gun on the local market. A foolish move for one who should well know the suffering he had caused would be cause for the most severe of reprimands. Chandrilan security, as it existed, was very lax - and he doubted the locals would intervene in a battle between two bitter rivals. The first order of business was locating the local cantina, and hopefully gain some information from there. As he entered the domed, cavernous settlement circle, his crimson eyes thinned beneath the black mesh visor that covered his face, overlayed with the mask of his status. He would not remove the mask, for risk of losing control once more, or becoming incapacitated through insanity and madness.
His black cloak made him appear thin and lithe, moving like a shadow through the crowds, silently entering the cantina. Those who did stop to look his direction quickly averted their gaze, or simply nodded with respect. Common denizens, unaware of the spectacle that awaited them should he find his quarry here. He had brought his crimson lightsaber, but kept it folded and hidden within his robes, instead relying on the vibrosabre-dagger combo strapped across his side. The bouncer made a move to mention the weapons, but with a deft hand he raised his finger, as though to signify silence. The Zeltron's eyes glazed over momentarily, and in that period of indecision, the Legionnaire slithered in.
Well, at least they treat you with respect. Say nothing of their own history.
I know nothing of their history, spirit. I must focus.
A bustling crowd did not amuse him, as the Vahla did not enjoy large social spaces of interaction - especially when his mind was deadest on a task. Striding swiftly and with intent, ignoring any who offered him a drink or seat, he found himself before the barkeep on duty. The ragged human male, overweight by quite a few pounds, looked him up and down with a raised eyebrow, before pointing to the bar with a questioning glance. Alasdaire did not answer immediately, instead looking the bartender deep in the eyes.
"I'm looking for someone. He goes by the name Espaa, a mercenary local to here."
"That kind of information comes at a price..."
This vermin...
Alasdaire agreed with the spirit's assessment of the human filth. That he had the nerve to dare demand bribery for something that should be fairly common knowledge. He could see, by the way the human comported himself, that the fool believed him wealthy due to his strange appearance. The human would now learn quite the opposite, as the Vahla gently placed both of his hands upon the bar table, reaching out with the shadow to apply slight pressure to the bartender's neck.
"That kind of information is vital to my presence here. It would be in your best interest... to tell me what I need to know."
As the words left his mouth, as typical of the Vahla, his eyes sputtered dark, swirling crimson sparks from the sockets in the mask, giving him an ever more sinister appearance.
