Gathering of the Evil Kings ((Midnight Sun))

A man clad in a sith uniform sprinted at full speed toward the sith entrenched position with his comerades. A hail of blaster bolts came in, felling close to a dozen men on their way to cover. Men who never even got to fire off a shot before dying in battle... cannon fodder. The sprinting man, who had avoided death during the initial hail of fire, dove into the trench, hoisted his blaster rifle, and commenced firing across an open Dantooine Plain. The man peeked his head over the trench to spot targets, and his head was blown clean off by a sniper. The second after the man's body thumped into the ground, there was an explosion not 5 feet away, then extreme pain, then blackness.
The moment of Cimberius losing his eye at the battle of Dantooine played over and over again as he slept. Soundless, terrible, and swift.

The floor shook as his transport landed at Geltyu City Spaceport, ripping Cimberius from his post traumatic nightmare. The dark jedi rose, clothed and equipped himself, and exited the room.
The vessel was a freighter owned by dull smelly black market antiquities dealer. Cimberius has snuck aboard the ship from Korriban, and now he intended to sneak off the freighter while the pilot preformed the manual shutdown sequences.

Success. Cimberius strode away from the spaceport and into the grimey streets of Geltyu City. Here because of an ad put out by an imperial privateer, Cimberius sought to expand his horizons. He didnt need to ask around, the Sand Rat cantina across the way from the street adjacent to the spaceport. For a place so close to a spaceport, the sandrat was suprisingly empty save for half a dozen common barfolk, a few smugglers, and one Shady but powerful looking fellow in the back, alone and drinking water. Cimberius need not ask for shard, he had found him. The toydarian walked to the man, and introduced himself in a sensibly quiet voice. Such a greeting was unlike Cimberius.. but again... he had to expand his horizons.

"Shard, I presume?"

As Cimberius appeared in the cantina, Shard subtly arranged his cloak so that his lightsabers would be hidden from view. "Presumptions are dangerous," the Miraluka replied, regarding the floating Force-user before him; the Toydarian would get the distinct impression of being closely scrutinized, despite the fact that Shard was wearing extremely dark glasses. "But in this case... correct." This fellow was clearly a Force user; the robes, the lightsabers, even the thin black armor indicated such.

But in Shard's vision, Cimberius swam in a red aura, stirred by the constant beating of his wings. The loss of an eye indicated he had seen war before, yet there were still questions to ask, formalities to go through; when dealing with Dark Jedi, one ever had to tread lightly.

"In any event," the Miraluka went on, "give me a reason I should hire you. Give me multiple reasons; as the ad said I'm not looking for fools. Prove to me you aren't a fool, then." If more Dark Jedi appear I shall have to choose carefully, he thought to himself. Too many in one area will attract the Jedi, and by extension the Republic; I don't need an armada after me.

Out of the dimness a small form stirred; that of a child, an urchin like so many others, only this one had a blackened razor in her hand and her hungry eyes fixed on the hovering alien. Shard had seen her earlier, but made no move to alert Cimberius to her presense; in fact he extended an aspect of his power to conceal her from his Force senses, not bothering to cloak her entirely since she approached his blind side. He did this without disturbing the curtain that concealed his own power, which he did not want to reveal so soon.

"Waiter, bring us a drink," he called, his voice carrying easily to the bar. "Water for both of us." He regarded the Toydarian again, smirking beneath his goatee, waiting to see how he would deal with the waiter and the little pickpocket. For that was all the little urchin was, a thief; she did not have a killer's despair about her, this he could see.

((OOC: Let's wait for Zab now, Leo. Also, Cimberius' bio seems only half-finished, missing stats and RP sample; do you plan to fill these in?))

In the Geltyu Shuttleport, not to be confused with the Starport that catered to hyperspace capable craft, the first landing pad cleared as over the horizon a rectangular craft darted into view. It slowed as it approached the city until it was suspended over the landing pad, and then warily it descended until its landing anchors made contact with the ground, pushing slightly into the ship's interior and bellowing steam as the hydraulics allowed for safe and comfortable landing. Then, a couple of second later the docking ramp descended, and a predictably seedy crowd of people poured out from the confines of the ship, a metal beast vomiting nothing but criminal trash.

Then, as the thick of the exiting crowd dispersed, something out of its element descended the ramp with quick and fierce steps attributed only to a natural-blood Iridonian. Garbed in a black cloak with a hood set over his composite, high-grade durasteel helmet, and equally in black regalia that concealed his hands and every bit of skin where his chestplate and shoulderpads did not, a moderately tall individual stepped free of the confines of the shuttle and scanned the general area through the orange, glowing scope of his visor.

This was Zabasaz Volgarius, now located in Farrfin. Ever the drifter, he did not possess the ability to hide his use of the Force whatsoever, so whenever he manipulated it to excess the ripples were detected galaxy-wide. This meant he had to train himself to be very careful, and so far he did. In fact, he was led to believe the last two times he had been tracked down was a result of a broad spy network rather than Jedi sensory disciplines. Nonetheless, Farrfin suited his needs even better than Malastare. A seedy Mid Rim planet that had minimal Republic and Jedi traffic, Zabasaz had invoked something of a minor favor in order to keep eyes open for Republic chatter or anything else unusual. As for the Dark Jedi who seemed ready to hunt him down at every turn, well... that was a matter of luck and concealment, not location, location, location.

An interesting ad had caught his eye, however. He had made a living on this world through sliced holonet terminals and underworld jobs, most of which suited him just fine considering his ability to intimidate and act with supernaturally superior proficiency to your average criminal due to the assistance of the Force, his own martial prowess, and his natural Iridonian intuition. When this ad caught his eye, it intrigued him but it also came across with much doubt. He liked the idea of working on a ship, especially if he could choke back the use of the Force and act like your every day soldier, because not only would it keep him moving and therefore make him more elusive to the predators out for his blood, but it would also probably pay him a lot better when the time did come that he needed to pay an overcharging smuggler for a quick trip to the Outer Rim or the Unknown Regions for a good, long get-away, so to speak.

It seemed pointless for him not to look into it on sheer doubt, so he bought a shuttle ticket to Geltyu City to look into it. He had been there quite a number of times, so he was used to the city. Finding the Sand Rat Cantina, which was quite literally across the speeder street from the Shuttleport (a more mainstream structure of this district of the city, the Sand Rat was) was easy for he had been there before though not in the last two weeks.

He swiftly crossed the street, the afternoon heat bearing down on his black clothing, a choice of ensemble that didn't disguise him but did certainly scare off the pickpockets and the cutthroats, and stepped through the doorway which opened automatically for him, something of an innovation of technology for such a low standard establishment. Zabasaz did not expect this Captain to be anything beyond a Fringer, and so he figured his inability to conceal his aptitude for the Force would not factor in. Little did he know he was about to encounter two Dark Jedi, one a master up to his own level if not greater, in what appeared that morning to be a simple job reply. Zabasaz's powerful presence in the Force hit quickly, perhaps as soon as he entered Geltyu City to a more aware individual, and became what could be described as immensely overwhelming as he approached. Indeed - Zabasaz's power of the Force was spectacular, greater than even the most well-endowed Force Sensitive, but his training was shoddy and his ability to control it hindered by the special condition of his midichlorian. It could be described most effectively as raw, undiluted potential.

Of course, nobody could tell that he wasn't as capable of controlling the Force as his great aura would otherwise imply simply by sensing him. It was a weakness that didn't often come up in battles for his life, for his aggression overpowered most intricacies of the Force that opposing Jedi and Dark Jedi invoked and utilized.

Nonetheless, he entered the establishment and his eyes scanned the patrons, the sensor and interface of his visor doing its best to identify and categorize all the individuals he was seeing. Then, he approached the bar despite the looks the patrons might had given him, seating himself and ordering a Corellian ale. He figured it couldn't hurt to have a drink and take the edge off before he sought his potential employer.

Cimberius ceased hovering, as he found the flapping of his wings to be distracting to his own conversation. This Shard fellow was most definitley legitimate. He got right to questioning about Cimberius' abilities rather then engange in cheeky and banterous conversation that would make the dark jedi want to disembowel him. The Toydarian sensed that this man could bring him to a lucrative venture... one in which he could increase and flaunt his power. After Shard ordered them water, the Dark Jedi looked to him and said "I offer combat expertise and battle logistics. For the most part I will keep to myself. As long as the people in your crew do their jobs with skill competence... I shall have no quarrels with them"

Cimberius leaned back smugly and awaited Shard's reply. He faintly sensed that something was about to happen. It was a strange feeling. In the absence of conversation, Cimberius closed his eyes and felt with the force. It didnt take long before Cimberius sensed the impact of tiny footsteps close by. An elevated heart beat... droplets of sweat... desperate breaths of poverty and hunger.... and then he saw it in a fleeting warning of the force..
A small child crept towards him with a lousy blade, his intentions were unclear to Cimberius, but whatever they were, this child needed to be put in his place. The Toydarian used the force to rip the blade from the child's hand and promplty push the blade to the childs throat. He pressed hard, never looking at the child once... the harder and harder he pressed, the more fear he could sense. The Toydarian whispered, but made sure that the child could hear.

"For every second you dont run.. this blade goes further into your skin.

Cimberius then pushed again, breaking the skin and drawing blood. The child's scurrying feet could be heard.. and the knife dropped to the floor. The waitress showed up with the water, put it down, and left.

Shard grinned; the Toydarian was proving more appropriate every second. "Naturally, naturally," he replied easily. "I have little patience for fools, something it seems we have in common, you and I." Being capable of murder was all fine and well, but one had to have a sense of when one could engage in such. Wanton slaughter in a public area, especially of a child, was frowned upon, and it pleased the Miraluka to no end that Cimberius could recognize this. "I admire discretion, as well," and he nodded at the retreated urchin.

"So," he went on, glancing pointedly at Cimberius' lightsabers, making sure his own were well out of sight and sense, "you're one of those Jedi, are you? Or... no, you don't seem like any Jedi I've ever met." He lifted the curtain concealing his own power just a little, just a tiny fraction, so it would seem to the Toydarian that he had some bit of the Force himself. "Perhaps... a Dark Jedi?" He leaned forward, his expression intent, his voice carrying just enough harshness; not too much, of course, just the precise amount to convey what he wanted. "Jedi or not, you won't get any greater pay than usual; I don't care if you're the Grandmaster of the entire damned Order, you start at the bottom and work your way up. That applies to everyone I hire," and he leaned back, relaxing a bit. "Of course, a fellow such as yourself shouldn't have any trouble rising up those ranks; I reward those who deserve it, and punish likewise."

It was then that he stopped, paused, cocked his head to the side and glanced off over Cimberius' shoulder. "Did... what is that?" he muttered, feigning slight fear. Of course he had sensed the approach of Volgarius some time ago, but he brought it up now as the Zabrak master approached from the streets. "Must be another of you lot..." and he scowled, drinking his water. "Did you bring friends, Cimberius?"

At the moment Zabasaz strode in, Shard was just putting his glass down again. "There he is..." he whispered. In the Miraluka's vision, the Zabrak Dark Jedi appeared titanic, a seething broil of overreactive power; there was no question, this one also sought a place on the crew of the Midnight Sun. Shard could read it in his aura, so very loud and overwhelming. "Is it an Iridorian...?" he went on, still in a low voice as he beckoned Cimberius to lean in; the Toydarian might smell a faint masculine scent, expensive cologne from the Core Worlds, which Shard applied very lightly to his collar whenever he was "going out" for the day. "Go and confront that person," he whispered, confidentially, implying this was a great favor. "See who he is, find out why such a one as him has come here, of all places."

He then leaned back again, apprehension in every line of his body. Of course it was fake; he was playing the part of the scared captain, concerned for his own life, yet curious to see the extent of the percieved threat. In truth he was calm, collected, in control of the situation, eager to observe how Cimberius would deal with another Dark Jedi. If they came to blows he would step in himself, thus blowing his cover; hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

As Shard eyed Cimberius' lightsabers, he unhooked them and tucked them into a cloak pocket. How could he have been so negligent as to let them hang in the open on his belt... He would be sure not to make this mistake again. Shard asked the Dark Jedi if he was one of the Jedi... and claimed that Cimberius was unlike Jedi he had met. The Toydarian replied
"I am no Jedi.... and the fact that you have met jedi unsettles me so... I hope these meetings were violent and quickly resloved."

Cimberius took a sip of water as Shard warned him of the pay and ranking system. Clearly this captain took everyone to be the same cheap fringer. Cimberius raised and eyebrow and said
"You need'nt worry about squabbling for ranks or pay with me... I value the concept for working for and earning power."

The captain then rapidly changed emotion.. and began eyeing a Zabrak at the bar. The force was indeed very strong with this one. The captain seemed to be expressing fear, but Cimberius sensed that this emotion was not genuine, simply because the captain lacked the biological signs of fear. Shard ordered Cimberius to go over to the Zabrak, and Cimberius obeyed despite the fact that he was not yet under Shard's dime.

Cimberius walked, not hovered, over to the Zabrak, and sat next to him at the bar. Unafraid and un phazed by the other Dark Jedi's superior powers, Cimberius ordered a water and sat there until the other made a move, or until the right words came to him.

It was actually rather impossible to discern that he was a Zabrak. It would be by sheer perception of the Force that anyone could do it, if at all. His helmet did not betray any traits of a Zabrak whatsoever, and how similar he was to a human made the possibilities too broad. Perhaps if one knew the manner by which a tribal Iridonian carried themselves they'd have reason to assume, but not to be sure. Zabasaz considered removing his helmet as he entered the establishment for his beverage, but something on the way in had changed his mind very quickly. His helmet had a lot of nifty features built right into the interface, making it just as good as any high-class, wealthy bounty hunter's head gear. How could he afford it? He didn't. It came off the body of a Bounty Hunter who was out for credits that could only be gained in exchange for a dark-skinned, vicious Iridonian's head. Of couse, he had to get it sliced and modified for it to yield to his commands and function in the manner he required - by now, this piece of hardware was likely more illegal than anything within a mile radius of his current position, and that was a bold claim for someone in the middle of a cantina in a populated Farrfinian city.

What had motivated him to keep his helmet on his head would be anyone's guess, but he was able to drink a beverage through it without removing it anyways in much the same manner as one might transfer an item through an airlock. His eyes were impossible to see behind a glowing bar of orange, but they were sitting right directly upon the Toydarian this entire time. When the Toydarian approached, Zabasaz noticed the manner by which he did so, and how it brought attention to his evident superior. Ever the perceptive one, years... no, decades of experience have trained him in keeping his eyes on his surroundings as well as his other available senses - and for an Iridonian, this was a fundamental discipline, not a quality. To meet a tribal Iridonian who didn't have the ears of a hound and the eyes of a bird of prey was not to meet a truly tribal Iridonian.

When the Toydarian took the seat, Zabasaz's invisible eyes dug right into them as though he were naked, and there was nothing he could do about it. One might be able to sense Zabrak anatomy, but the direction of veiled eyes were altogether another game of ball. It seemed inevitable that given time the ever-expected attack would occur, but it didn't soon enough so Zabasaz's patience wore thin and he decided to see if he could talk this one out of it. He spoke low so that only Cimberius could hear.

"Your lightsabers are mine to behold. In thirty years I have not been felled by a lightsaber in a hand so verdant and weak. Why have you come here, to me, if not to have me define tragedy for you and your loved ones?"

Zabasaz may have spoken as though he could see the lightsabers, he saw them only in his memory and not with any sensory organ he possessed. Actually, he had seen them -before- the Toydarian approached, the instant he stepped into the cantina, before they were tucked away and concealed. Perhaps he may have missed them in the dim atmosphere, such a small device the lightsaber generally is, but his helmet had an integrated feature that memorized the appearance of lightsabers (among other things, such as faces and whatsoever Zabasaz requires) and identified them the moment they appeared in the helmet's peripheral sensors. It was an important feature when so many Force users valued the element of surprise, whether or not they knew of Zabasaz's inherent blindness to the auras given off by other blessed practitioners. He was left to assume, since all other people who possessed lightsabers (and some who did not) made it a point to try and assassinate him, that this individual was no different.

"I'd like to talk you out of this foolishness."

Thanks to his prodigally enhanced senses Shard could observe everything that went on between the mysterious Zabrak and the Toydarian. He was only slightly disappointed; some part of him thirsted for bloodshed and chaos, only to be faced with these two representatives of the Dark Side, one of them extremely powerful, dealing with each other in words and gestures.

Foolishness, indeed, he thought, relaxed and unafraid. He had no fear for himself, and no concern for the innocents of the cantina; he was, however, concerned for whatever high-powered weaponry some of them might be able to bring to bear, not to mention whatever military-grade munitions possessed by what passed for the constabulary in this parts. Lightsabers were fine and well, being able to fight with them was even better (among one of the true skills of the universe), but when it came to a turret or a heavy repeater, or even a sufficiently tricked-out blaster with a high enough firing rate, one could do very little without consumate skill in Soresu or Shien. The Miraluka had great skill in Shien, but he doubted his two potential recruits did, and he was loathe to loose out on such fine officers.

To this end he slowly stood, invoking one of the full powers of Art of the Small; immediately he faded from notice, and moved with impunity through the crowd. He was not invisible, true invisibility was nigh impossible; he was simply dim, inconsequential, unworthy of even the slightest notice. People saw him but did not see they saw him, or even acknowledge he was there; they simply moved aside and went on with their business. He could even fool eletronic sensors in this manner.

In this way, utterly beneath notice yet in plain view, he went up and stood a few feet from the two other Dark Jedi, his attention for the most part focused on them, trusting to the Force to alert him to other matters which might need dealing with.

She walked through the door to the cantina. It was.. seedy. Xera wouldn't have come here if she didn't have a good reason. The exotic alien woman looked around, immediately locating what she had come here for- a Toydarian and a helmeted Dark Jedi. The Miraluka next to them really seemed unimportant- a bystander, perhaps, or a servant of one of the two. The blue-skinned Twi'lek Dark Jedi walked between tables in a silent cat's stalk, until she reached a table in the corner.

The cobalt alien sat down by herself, her cold grey eyes boring into the important two. The other seemed to cause a nagging in the back of her mind, but her mind itself seemed to go out of its way to dismiss him... No matter. He was inconsequential. The exotic alien cocked her head to the side, and her lekku curled in curiosity. She glanced at her leather pouch where her lightsaber sat, just as a reassurance that it was hidden.

---------------

((OOC/ Okay Leo, I conceded on the poor RPing. That was a bad post. This one probably is too, but I'm trying to fix that. However, I will also note that as you claim that my character's "sterotype" is detrimental to your roleplaying experience is, quite frankly, not something you post in the thread. The thing a polite RPer does is to send a quiet PM, as opposed to a public call in the middle of a forum. That is what is detrimental to RPing experiences, and I freely admit to be doing it right now))

Urias stepped into the cantina, ATD-1 close beside him. The droid glanced around, scanning the room, the dim light reflecting off his chrome surfaces. "I am detecting many weapons... some lightsabers, too. Such lovely places we go to look for jobs." Urias had never heard of a sarcastic droid before he built ATD-1. But he could also sense the presence of several Force-Users in the room. He'd have to be careful, getting mixed up with too big a group of Force-Users and they'd have the Jedi descending down upon them like a Spire Falcon going in for the kill.

He scanned the place with his helmet, the HUD highlighting most people with a blue 'low concern' outline, several with a red 'high threat' outline, and one with a yellow 'unknown'. Urias raised his eyebrow. The helmet computer almost never did that, and when it did, it usually meant it was even worse then the red 'high threat' level.

Without warning, the being, a Miraluka, stood up, and suddenly was... gone. Not gone, Urias could still see him on his HUD, but... he didn't want to see him. "That's gotta be our guy. Stay close behind me, I'm gonna go talk to him."

It was difficult to follow him, having to rely almost completely on his HUD, and not his eyes or the Force. The lightsabers hanging from his belt pretty much marked Urias as a Jedi or a Jedi-killer, and considering how he was in his own beskar'gam, and most Mandos liked to hang their trophy lightsabers from their belt, people, including the other Force-Users, unless they were focusing on him, would mark him as a Jedi-Killer. Reaching out with the Force to counter the Miraluka's little trick would be like jumping up and down and screaming to the other Force-Users: 'Hey! I'm a Dark Jedi! Look at me!'

The Miraluka stopped, just a few feet a way from a Toydarian and a Zabrak. Both of them were highlighted with a red outline. Text appeared on his HUD, an internal messaging system connected with ATD-1. It was an excellent way to communicate with the droid when voices were too loud. It said: Master, the Toydarian is carrying two lightsabers. I can not yet determine if the zabrak is.[/i]

Great, Urias thought. More Force-Users? He'd have to be extremely careful. Still fighting the Miraluka's Force cloak, he walked right up behind him. He still didn't quite want to see him, so he just said to nobody in particular, in a hushed voice, "Shard, I presume?"

Competent fellows needed to serve aboard ship, the Midnight Sun. Must be hard of heart, quick on gun or sword; intellect and leadership skills optional. Ability to get along with unsavory types and a slightly crazy captain will count far in your favor; will not accept fools, incompetants, or the half-baked.
If interested, come to the Sand Rat Cantina in Geltyu City, Farrfin, during the early afternoon hours, and ask for Shard.

This was the message that greeted Cirith An'Gol as he boarded his ship The Scarlet Sabre to give control of the ship over to his sister Arwyn. They'd had a fight when they'd met on Coruscant through what he hoped was coincidense, he'd given in, ofcourse. He could hardly blame Arwyn for hating him and wanting their father's ship He did spend alot of time with me after Arwyn was old enough for our mother to look after by herself[/color]. He'd shown the message to what used to be his crew and his sister. They all agreed that the message looked like it was written by amatuers. Cirith though said that it was a job, and if the message was anything to go by, a pretty easy job.

An easy job means easy credits, and amatuers will pay almost whatever I tell them because their either too stupid or too afraid to argue. There might be a fight here and there but it's nothing we can't handle Cirith remembered telling his crew this and the looks they'd given him It's possible too they just might've hired a bad ad writer this from Tor Otani, who was always ready to try and break the tension with a jest or joke.

Jobs weren't easy to come by so much anymore, especially for starting mercenaries like them. So, he'd given control of the Sabre to Arwyn and taken her ship The Vaird'ika or "The Little Soldier" and went to Farrfin by himself, promising his friends and crew that he'd meet up with them if they wanted, when he was done with this job. They weren't too thrilled to come here anyway and now I see why, it's nothing but a boiling cesspool of criminals and gangsters Cirith had reasoned within himself as he entered the atmosphere and listened to Arwyn's ship AI appropriatly dubbed Winter as it described the majority of the planets population and history.

Cirith lowered the loading ramp and walked out of the ship, the red HUD picking up a number of wanted criminals from a simple sweep of his scanner. A couple seconds later the loading ramp rose and the sheilds rippled to life along with the security systems Cirith had recently installed, making it impossible for anyone to steal. He'd come fully prepared for this place upon learning what it was well known for.

He'd dawned his custom made Mandalorian Besk'ar armor and equipped two Westar 28 pistols, a large SD-15 blaster rifle slung across two reverse grip Vibroswords crossed at an "X" at his back and his mother's lightsaber. The armor was painted to look like he'd been involved in bloody duels but hadn't bothered to wash the blood off his armor. Cirith practically spelled "death" as he walked toward the Sand Rat Canitina in his armor.

He walked up to the bar and asked for a man named "Shard" when the man looked around and simply shrugged, Cirith simply sat down and ordered an Tarisian Ale. After fiddling with his Ale for a moment, Cirith decided to stretch out his senses and noticed that he didn't want to look at a particular spot. Cirith looked anyway, but he found no one worth noticing, atleast he thought he didn't. A little confused Cirith decided that patience was going to get him through this job, after all the man could have been interviewing possible prospects.

On Board a MCS-13 Marauder bound for the Rimma Trade Route near Togoria
Two years prior to landing on Korriban

Xerron was at the helm of the MCS-13 Marauder they'd taken from a group of Trandoshan slavers on the way to Korriban when the ship picked up a message as they entered the Mid Rim.
As Xerron read the message his interest was piqued and decided it wouldn't do any harm to get a few credits for their long journey.
This side stop in their trip would also allow them ample time to improve their respective skills. Xerron sent a message to Zaaltarr that he was going to change course for Farrfin through their shared force link. Zaaltarr's feel in the force told him that he didn't really care and that he wanted more time to study his holocron and make a lightsaber anyway. With that Xerron put the cooridinates into the navicomputer.

A short time later.......

The MCS-13 Marauder came out of hyperspace and Xerron immediatly dimmed his presence in the force as much as possible, if there were any force users on the planets they'd think him only as someone who had a slight force sensibility. Then drawing up his black hood and half mask Xerron prepared for entry into the planet's atmosphere. a few minutes later the Marauder class vessel was cooling down on a spceport pad and Xerron stepped off the loading ramp which began to close after a few seconds.
The first thing that hit Xerron when he walked closer to the Sand Rat canitina was the feelings of violence, desperation and mental instability from it's patrons in and around the place.

When Xerron was inside he decided to take a look around and try and pick out the threats that no doubt inhabited the canitina.
One threat that he immediatly saw was a Mandalorian in thick armor that was colored coal grey and red, the second was what he assumed was an Iridonian Bounty Hunter from the looks of his armor. When he walked up to the bar and asked for "Shard" the barkeep simply shrugged and asked what he could get him.
Xerron ignored the man's question and moved closer to the Iridonian's area, feeling that, somehow, this was the place to be at. As Xerron passed through the crowd, slapping hungry hands away, he noticed he almost missed a person, someone standing a few feet away from a Toydarian and the Iridonian.
If his force senses weren't so keen in specific areas, such as Danger Sense, he might've missed the man completely and it was this Danger Sense that told Xerron to look.

The man didn't seem all that dangerous, Xerron didn't even see a weapon on him but, he knew from experience that appearances could be deceiving. Deciding this must be "Shard" Xerron moved past him and took a table behind and left of him. Xerron patted the two lightsabers on his belt reflexively as he took his seat.
He studied the man for a few minutes before deciding to speak,Yes, that must be Shard, look at him standing calmly amidst this crowd of theives and cutthroats, he's either a very good unarmed combatant or he has Force powers or both convinced this was the man Xerron was looking for he spoke softly so only he could hear this will answer my question for only a force user or a Shistavenan Wolfman would be able to pick this up.
"Shard, how long do you plan on playing your little game?" Xerron smiled beneath his black hood and half mask and waited for something to happen.

Cimberius inherent lack of intent to speak betrayed what Zabasaz could only perceive as fear. Fear was a warranted emotion, even from the other Dark Jedi who, in his eyes, came off often as great imbeciles. Headstrong, emotionally unstable, they waltzed right into battles they could not win without any plan. Zabasaz had killed them by the dozens throughout the years, probably forming the second largest statistic of Dark Jedi deaths, under the Jedi Order itself. And that was a shady claim in and of itself, considering most Dark Jedi -came- to him looking for power, whereas few went looking for the Jedi Order.

In any case, the cruel Iridonian hadn't a single reason to spare these foes in the past. If he didn't kill a Dark Jedi, they'd surely return stronger and with a better plan, usually involving the element of surprise. If one happened to get away, that was when he left the system just for safety purposes. He couldn't fight a Dark Jedi if it got into his chambers without him waking up in the middle of the night. It was perhaps the sensation that Cimberius was a puppet and a weak-minded fool (moreso than the others) that Zabasaz figured no blood would need to be shed here. After all, he had an employer to seek out and making a mess was bad for business and his image. Cimberius was seemingly ordered by a no-longer-present individual to approach him, so Zabasaz could only assume he was but a pawn. Some pawns died for their king, and some had the smarts to die for something better, soon the fearless Zabrak would find out where Cimberius laid on this spectrum.

"Your fear is justified. Since I see your master, too, has disappeared, I will give you the choice to do as well." His voice was quiet, transmitting on a low frequency better suited for a Toydarian's ears through his helmet. "Leave this place. Never seek me again."

"That's me," Shard replied to Urias, completely at his ease despite the build-up of Dark Jedi in the room. No doubt the fellow had some sort of electronics, but even then he couldn't look directly at the Miraluka. "Come for a job, have you? You and everyone else," and he chuckled expansively. "Well, enough charades; time for business!"

With that, he did something he rarely did; with a soft sigh he released the constraints on his power, allowing the full scope of his aura to flood the room. Simultaneously he threw his cloak aside and leaped atop the bar, commanding attention from all across the room. Everyone saw him, from the wide glasses to the thick boots, and anyone with even the slightest connection to the Force would be assaulted by his power.

And I'm not even doing anything, he thought to himself. "Those of you who come in search of Shard; Shard is here," he began, indicating himself with a flourish. "I wasn't expecting quite so many to answer my little call, nor so many of such obvious talent. It is not coincidence, I suspect; everywhere, the Dark Ones are gathering, and it would just be my fortune to get stuck with some of you.

"Anyway. I will make no bones; we are pirates. We raid, we pillage, we rape and plunder and vaporize, and somewhere along the line get filthy damn rich! Sometimes we have fun, sometimes we get shot at, sometimes the weak get killed, but hey; larger shares for the luckier ones, eh?" and he laughed, a rollicking bloodthirsty laugh that nevertheless sounded entirely alluring. Almost... seductive.

"However, I know the Dark Side," he went on, changing his demeanor rather abruptly. "I know the ways of entropy, of pain and chaos and disorder. The strong feeding on the weak." His voice dripped with contempt. "So much nonsense. If that's your plan, to get in close and then stab us in the back, leave now and never come back. We have a ship to run, an enterprise to maintain, payments to kick around; there's no room for philosophical foolishness, and I'll kill anyone who disagrees with me once we're aboard ship.

"Anyway," and he was back to normal, or what passed for normal with this strangely charismatic, alluring fellow with the unseen yet penetrating sight. "As I said before; I am Shard, and Shard is me. My ship is the Midnight Sun, and if you still intend to join us, stand up tall and say so." He took a half-step backward, as if allowing anyone to take the stage if they so wanted it.

The ad was right, Urias thought to himself. This guy really is a bit crazed. But I've worked with crazier. And stupider. This guy seems pretty smart. Oh well, what've I got to lose?

Though he wasn't sure if the Miraluka was speaking literally about the standing up thing, he had no thing to lose. He was already standing as tall as he could, but he had a few tricks up his armored sleeve. And besides, no use hiding now. He expanded his presence in the Force, letting it seep over the crowds of people, past the chairs, the barstools, the tables, the drinks. He might not look physically taller now, but he would definitely be more noticeable then he would be just standing on his tip-toes. And besides, now he could sense the other Force-Users in the room better.

"I'll join your crew," he said, loud enough for everyone, aside from those who were too drunk, to hear.


((Yeah, terrible post, but I'm tired. lol))

Okay, that was unexpected Cirith had just begun to remove his helmet when a man with blonde hair lept atop the bar and identified himself as Shard.
He spoke of raiding, pillaging, raping, vaporizing and getting filthy rich as well as telling them there'd be danger involved and that some of the weaker ones in the group might die.
Tell me something I don't know Cirith thought as the man went on with his speech. Then concluding he asked everyone that planned to join him to stand.
Seeing his opportunity present itself Cirith stood and placed his Tarisian Ale on the counter.
"I hope your promises of wealth and danger are true Shard. I'll join temporarily, how temporarily depends on how amused I am" Cirith let his deep voice take on a menacing tone just to let him know he wasn't kidding.
Cirith then crossed his arms and looked around counting the number of people that stood and noticed atleast five others were Force users like himself.
This might be interesting after all Cirith thought smiling beneath his red visored helmet.

Xerron had barely completed his message when the man he'd been watching lept ontop of the bar and introduced himself as Shard as well as promising riches and adventure.
Then when he'd concluded he'd asked everyone that was joining him to stand.
Xerron did and noticing that the other force users had let their force presences be known, smiled. Time for some theatrics a second later Xerron vanished visibly.
Xerron smiled as he walked right up to the Mandalorian who'd spoke of sticking around as long as he was amused and the guy didn't even notice. Deciding that now was not the time to pull a prank, though it would have been hilarious and soo easy at this time, stepped up beside him and reappeared, visually and in the force as he threw off the Force Cloak and his Force Concealment. "Yeah, I'll join ya for a bit He said looking up into the blonde man's sunglasses. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the Mandalorian knod to him and mutter "neat trick, Jedi" in a way that sounded like the man was sneering.
Xerron resisted the urge to correct the Mando and simply ignored the man's mistake. He was a Dark Jedi and he'd kill anyone that called him anything but, that or his name.

((OOC: Leo, Ky, you guys will just have to catch up, if you're still planning on doing this thing.))

Shard looked over each of those who had stood up, analyzing each one in turn; though his head did not move, and they couldn't see his eyes, they nevertheless got the impression of a keen, searching intellect peering into their souls. "Excellent, excellent," he said, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. "All of you will be excellent additions to my crew. Now, if you would follow Colonel Kurtz and his associate to the ship, he'll see to your accomodations."

From the back, a couple of muscular fellows emerged, dressed in fatigues and heavily armed with all sorts of weaponry. They'd been passively observing the unfolding events, and none of the Force users had noticed them due to special training for shielding their minds and emotions from Jedi. "Follow me, cullies," Kurtz intoned, gesturing toward the door. He fell in beside Cirith as they all left, his grizzled face split in a sneer. "Ye're a mercenary, then? Cap'n's auth'rized me t' deal wi' you lot. So what's yer rates 'n stuff?" The new crewmembers were led to a shuttle in the starport, a newer one that nevertheless had seen some use. "We'll jus' wait fer th' Cap'n," one of the 'associates' said. "Go on in an' fin' yerselfs seats 'r somethin'."

Once they were gone, Shard hopped down and faced Zabasaz, his face serious beneath the glasses and goatee. "You did not stand, sir," he began quietly, "yet I would go so far as to assume you are here in response to my ad?" The Miraluka could not easily read the Zabrak due to his armor; he had to address that. "You are clearly a man of ability and talent, and I would be remiss if I did not do everything in my power to entice you onto my crew," he went on, turning to pick his cloak up again and throw it over his shoulders.

"So, what can I offer you? Wealth, training, action?" the pirate leader inquired, facing Zabasaz again. "Or... perhaps you are a solitary wonderer, seeking anonymity in numbers and a quiet place to bed down when you are weary." He allowed himself a slight smile, and spread his arms. "I can give you all of that, and more; direction, purpose, goals to attain and surpass. So, what say you?" and he held out his hand. "Will you join my crew and serve aboard the Midnight Sun?"

Meanwhile, another had come into the cantina, a young female Zabrak in leather armor. Her glance fell on Shard, and she heard his voice in her head: "See to the Twi'lek in the corner there; she might be interesting." Nodding imperceptibly, she went over to Xera. "You here for Captain Shard's ad?" she asked, eying the Twi'lek up and down. A lightsaber hung prominently from her belt, and her manner indicated a confident sensuality. "He doesn't take just anyone, you know."

A man with grizzled features dressed in fatigues stepped up beside Cirith, a sneer on his face as he obviously didn't like Mercenaries, He probably doesn't rate Mandalorians like me much higher, hmmph, the ingrate[/color] Cirith thought as the man asked him what his rates were shortly after telling him that he was the one to go to for all their mercenary needs. Greeaat, this'll be fun. Talking through this moron. I can probably expect him to get everything backwards. He doesn't strike me as a man with a great amount of intelligence, I hope he can atleast fight[/color] Cirith's expectations for this job were going lower and lower.
"My rates are one million credits. Take it or leave it or'dinii" Cirith smiled beneath the red "T" shaped HUD, Cirith didn't expect the man to understand that he'd just insulted him, nor did he expect the man to put up much of a fight if he did.
((OOC: Or'dinii means "moron" in Mando'a)) With that Cirith headed onboard with the rest of the mercenaries and hoped that his expectations were wrong. Cirith thrived on battle, it was in battle that Mandalorians like himself gained honor. It was something no outsider could understand and that misunderstanding fed their fear, which Cirith could only laugh at and feed upon when necessary. Cirith hoped that traveling with these pirates and Dark Jedi would gain him alot of honor in battle, and credits.

Xerron let his force presence up completely, he'd simply grown bored of suppressing it.
Not like anything was likely to happen because of it anyway. So, Shard our fearless leader. What's your plan after we take off? Raid a Republic supply ship? Terrify innocents? Simply get all of us Dark Jedi together and play twenty questions? Xerron sent his thoughts into the mind of Shard while he walked towards the ship, his two lightsabers swaying on his belt as he walked. Xerron didn't mind answering questions, atleast it was something to do. Not that he had alot on his mind, improving his skills was his primary motivation. Xerron sent a force quick message to his Wookiee friend Zaaltarr telling him they were preparing to leave. Xerron almost wished his friend could accompany him, he was alot of fun when he wasn't occupied studying that damn holocron. In the end it was for the best that Zaaltarr stay on the ship, the Wookiee would probably tear anyone to peices that even looked at him wrong, which would cause alot of problems for Xerron in the end. Xerron returned his eyes to the front of him as he neared the ship and waited for a reply from Shard.

Lee Ru walked into the Cantina, somewhat later than the rest of the group. This was as much by intent as thru the slow speeds of public transportation. His lanky gait made him a somewhat comical sight, particularly clad in his full suit of ceramic armor, but the heavy stun blaster on his hip, virtually indistinguishable from a normal heavy blaster, kept most of their laughter subdued. Mesa bein here wid just disa gun bein stupid. He thought to himself as he peered into the darkened room. Should mesa bein gettin a new gun or bein puttin up wid what mesa bein havin? He decided he'd keep his gun after a second of thought, and picked a pair of men seemingly at random.

Walking up to a table of armed men and asking questions is a good way to get someone's attention. Lee Ru had learned that the hard way, but was now able to put it to use the proper and intelligent way. "Exqueeze mesa." He said, just a bit too loudly. "Doen any of yousa bein knowin where disa Shard fellow bein?"

So shortly after Shard's little display was his inquisition, that they were somewhat surprised. One of 'em nodded towards a blonde man standing near the bar. "He's over there. Looks like interesting company." "My bein tankin yousa." Lee Ru responded, and made his way towards the man specified. Along the way he noticed something interesting, the man was still talking to someone. Hoping both to find out more about the men in question, and to appear somewhat innocuous, he sat at a nearby barstool and ordered one of the local ales. His big ears were somewhat perked, however, a dead give-away to anyone who was paying him the slightest attention.