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Sabian

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  1. With that same toothy grin, he bent back his head to take the entire shot in one toss before throwing his arm back down hard against the counter, nearly breaking the glass in the process. An exasperated breath of wind escaped him as the acidic liquid moved down his throat and into his gut. "Aaaaah," Wiping his lips, the smirk reappeared again, "I'm glad we got to chattin', then, but I believe this is the end for my role here." The middle-aged man extended his hand once more as he got up from his stool, a barely noticeable curvatured object hidden between two fingers. "...Here's a chip with holomarkings on it. Be sure to decrypt it in a safe spot with no eyes or ears around, alright? It wil also give you your instructions as to the person I seek, as well as where to find him. Farewell." After their hands met, he parted ways without another word, disappearing into the haze of people and fading from Lobo's view.
  2. "Clearly there has," Staring at the bottom of the glass, his head rose back to match his eye level, "Look, I don't think there's many candidates jumping through hoops to train someone like you, y'know?" Both hands gestured out to further prove the point, the edges of them slapping against the surface of the counter from time to time, "If you think this Aryian guy will train you, and most likely will be by the books, then go right on ahead. This guy Sabian, though, he's been through a real life like you, I can tell. And when I received word from her, I knew there would be only one person capable of taking you in. Someone like him." "The real reason why I'm asking this is because I need a favor myself," His eyes, even though shielded by view by the shades, glanced sie to side, shifting his weight lower, even lowering his tone to a whisper, "I need to know if you're in or not now because, in exchange for me setting the two of yous up, I'm looking for somebody. You're a bounty hunter, yeah? Used to this kind of work. It's a win-win situation. An easy bag, too; for someone as powerful and crafty as yourself." "What do you say? Do we drink on it?" He held out the empty glass to the bar keep during the speech, having it filled back with the same toxic dribble before raising the now filled shot to the air.
  3. "Hahaha," The man seemed to burst at the sides, falling back in the stool, far enough only to be caught back upright by the two hands now clenched underneath either armpit. The loose clothing seemed to move with the jaunty laughter, all the wind expelling out of him in one big uproar before settling back down seconds later, hands reposed back upon the bar counter spread evenly and alligned with his shoulders. "Hoho... Terribly sorry, just sort of came out that way. Anyways," The lowering of his eyebrows denoted a more serious demeanor about him, as well as his voice lowering even deeper, "If you must know, I am no Jedi myself, but I do know of someone who was. Someone who has experienced the subtle, deeper elements of the Force in a unique way, but not by following the rules... Something you already seem fond of." He paused, lowering his mind to deeper thought before continuing. Aryian... No, that name doesn't ring any bells... Nothing I can see, atleast. "I have little ties to the current Order which is operating now, so my connections to bring you to this Master Aryian are little to nonexistant... I only came to you because I felt inclined to enlighten you of this man I know." Finishing the last of the drink, he grinned, "...Besides, it's always good to share a drink with a superstar." Voice saturated in sarcasm and wit.
  4. Never once did the vice grip upon his hand yield any painful emotion. In fact, quite opposite resulted, even grinning as the pale hand withstood the shake. Afterwards, the mild mannered man sat across from Lobo, signalling with one finger for a standard Corellian whiskey shot, straight up. After their drinks had arrived, the question that was asked was to be expected. Firstly, taking a sip of his own drink, the man peered over back at his new acquantence with the same glare behind dark shaded spectacles. The grey haired man spoke softly, yet loud enough to be heard from the usual clatter of the bar crowd. "It is not what you can do for me. As it would seem, you are need of someone with... particular qualities, should I say. A very noble background in league with the Force. Am I correct in assuming this?" Without moving his head, one hand took the same glass once more, poured a bit more down his throat before resting it back down again. He was rigid in his posture, hinting no emotion as he continued to rest upon the stool.
  5. After the thunderous applause, admist the cloud of rubble and spectators, the man who had been kindly directed to the bounty hunter's location now stood in his step, watching the crowd die down before making his way towards him. Underneath the veiled gaze of dark round spectacles, he approached the man of great stature directly, folding his arms infront of his chest with the crane of his neck lowering down slowly in a less then formal bow of the head. "Quite the spectacle,'" Falling on the edge of old age and youth, his rugged appearance and toothy grin while he spoke always seemed to deter the latter. Grey stubbles of hair lined his chin and beard, falling down to the base of his neck, "Mister... Lobo the Great? Or was it the other way around? Hearing in my left ear ain't so good after a single rev of this one smuggler's hot-rod engine came whizzing past me, nearly blew out the 'drum inside and then some." A hand extended from the long, loose sleeves worn from the fairly foreign attire. It was laced with red and yellow bands, thin yet enduring as it did not hide its wear very well, flowing as one full piece down his body, save the tie at the waist. "Can I buy you a drink?"
  6. He took the device which, upon sealing with the end of his finger, would become his own room key. No less skeptical by the contract as any other, the man took a couple steps across the ornate floor before stopping dead in his tracks, emptying his hands into his pockets in a stiffened stance. "The only thing else I would require of the Link is for a simple minded employee to merely point out where I can locate this man and nothing more. No escort, no survelliance whatsoever. Now, can you handle that much, lad?" A steady, stern glance was all that was needed to further enduce the point. There was little time to spare and, when men grow older, their patience and trust seemed to wear thin as their hair. He was an example of both at that moment, even caressing the bit of his scalp that still had a thick tuff of hair before continuing his cold stare.
  7. What a coincidence. The long flight to the ever mobile complex never felt so nostalgic as he cornered the loaned Bespin Cruiser, shaped more in the ways of a bloated wamp rat then a delicate streamlined fighter, into port. She landed just the same, as slow as the vessel could go, and took up twice the average space of an average gambler's spot. Lucikly, as the man had exited, there was little to no notice taken by any of the casino's personelle. Quite releaved, the tall scruffy man took his leave and walked across the crosswalk to the inner sanctum of the casino's chambers. At the door, they manual inspected the single briefcase he had; taking up any objects that warranted suspicion. A tube of gel, some arbitrary personal toilteres, and so forth, were all turned another to a blind eye. Flashing a smile in the direction of the officers who conducted the search, he clamped the suitcase shut once more and strode off further past the first hall and into the main gambling quarters. As usual, noise and excitement seemed to fill the space between the long arched walls. Yet, there was a different atmosphere about it. Every turn of the head didn't keep with it the same streak of the average hoodlum. Much more catered and cultured folk took stay here, only about half even taking any risks with their stockpiles of credits. But this wasn't the time to remain idle and thinking about such matters. The thin man, appearing in his early to late forties, adorned in a long flowing uniform of sorts, approached one of the staff members obviously observing the main hall. Slipping low the oval shaped shades below the bridge of his nose, his brillant blue eyes shown through the wrinkles, speaking in a much louder and lower tone to the foreground noise. "Pardon me, but there is a select matter which I was called in to this exact location for. It's in regards to a certain bounty hunter's request. Please inform your boss that one of the members that was contacted has arrived and is anxiously looking for a room to stay in after a long flight." Giving a quick wink and a satisified look of approval after the manager responded with haste, he settled down at the bar, taking the time left to wait in pondering about the atmosphere he was now drawn to yet again; this time for less conventional and honorable duties then the first diplomatic mission the man once named Sabian Devanus had done long ago. Although, they were just memories, not his own. This body, this face was anew, not dwelling on such trivial measures from the past. He would enjoy his time here and hopefully, with it, gain a steady job.
  8. Sabian

    Space

    More of a "put-put VRROOM" then anything.
  9. An eerie sound came from the back room of the run down apartment complex. Stirred awake by it, the rugish looking man stumbled to his feet in a daze, already early in the morning on Bespin. One hand toiled around in the desk he had kept hidden from sight, stowed away against the wall of the guest room. The sound became louder once a single drawer was opened, flashing orange and yellow lights indicating something from the small receiver. Weary eyes looked on the dial, an encrypted holoformed message with no video feed replaying at the single touch. This voice... Clasping the device tightly, squeezing the exterior mechanisms tight enough to cease with the verbal message, the shadow of a form lingered over the desk with bags under his eyes, trying to make sense of the moment. Have you been running so long that you don't recognize an oppertunity when it comes calling? (Quite literally, too.) ... No, I can't get back into this. The free hand clasped at his thin scalp, fingers closing around the thick fibers of hair that frayed out across its surface. There was no way, he had chosen a simpler life, simpler then the pratices of the Jedi. He did not want to return, especially to a place of history where he laid his sins aside to drift away with his duties. Hours passed until the dawn's rays shined down upon the man, still lingering at the desk, sitting at the small stool which rested against its feet. Continuing to mull it over, Sabian did a thing he has not done in quite a while. He meditated. Relaxing, without the use of alcohol, he pondered on the matter at hand. After even more time deliberating in such a state, he opened his eyes at long last and spoke silently to himself... "I'll do it,... but not as I am now. Not as that man's name. I can not take his identity any longer. He has died long ago... I must become my own, even if it be borrowed." There were a few characters that he would much less not associate with that would be willing and able to do the plan devised. Pride was not a matter with this, having the strength to go through with it was most important. New attire, new information, another life; so many faces his owned, but a single his own. Later that day, after having devoted himself to seeking much less credible advisors on the subject and taking a few loans out for a new set of wings, the newest name addressed to his person was signed "Conner Denten," -- a rather bland name for his tastes, but the more common, the easier it was to pass by. With everything in hand, work and home left behind without another word, the now Conner Denten arrived at the public spaceport where his newest possession was held, refueled and set course for the most luxurous casino in the entire galaxy; where it all started, back again...
  10. Underneath the glare of the orange hued spectacles, the scarred man stood high above the earth. Wavering blonde hair, soaked in lush vibrant color, parted back as a steady breeze was felt bracing up against his body. Cold and stern, he lingered from drawing any closer for that moment. Instead, the mysterious steadied himself, making only minute changes in the way the pistol stood borne against his palm in the unsettling wind. "On the contrary, this business is entirely my own, for I serve not an order, but the people themselves... I feel it in your heart, as I have in many Jedi's heart. Passion for peace is just as wicked as the soul who wields the agents for suffering. I have seen both their consequences far too many times. I shall be damned to see it again in the place I have called home..." "Now," The angle in his chin and the tone of his voice dropped signficantly, knees bending lower to the ground, the free hand which did not support the weight of the firearm turned around to throw the hammer back one more time, a definite click resounding from the chambers once loaded again, "I will ask you one last time..." "Display your hands where I can see them... Turn around and go back to where you came from, all of you!" His voice rang clear and loud, folding his left arm back into jacket where it laid complacently against his hip. Despite the late hour of the day, he remained confound in his decision to express his opinion in the manner in which it was intended. The resolve shall be made here and now, for if it did not, the powerful mediator himself would play a role in seeing that each side, Sith or not, remembered this day well...
  11. Through the thickened tension of the opposing parties impending feud, a single shot rang clear in the distance. Loud, booming, the sound traveled with great speed, air whipping just past the end of the younger jedi's nose immediately following. With an explosive crash, the precisely aimed projectile embedded itself in the nearby wall, barely blasting through the first layer of cemented rock which protected the alleyways and those inside the fortified buildings. A thin layer of whispy smoke gathered along the skinny trail the bullet made before dissipating entirely from the scene. A dark, harold figure emerged from the foreground, a tight and fiery red uniform held across the tall man's body. The silvery glint of scattered light traced softly along the contours of an enlarged revolver, wavering up and down the hilt as he took his time entering into the lighted view. What appeared in full light was what resembeled a humanoid character, long scars barely hidden behind circular spectacles that shrouded his eyes beneath them. The crimson collar on the jacket was held just above his mouth, concealing his lips as words now poured from his twisted mouth. "Hold it right there," The simplest twist of his wrist belayed the heavy end of the pistol's handle to jaw forward, the trigger face spiralling around his forefinger in a complete blur before the end of the firearm aimed squarely towards the eye of the aggressor, "Hands where I can see 'em." The mysterious man's jaws clamped hard onto one side, gnawing hard against the surface of his teeth in a grinding fashion. His thumb rested just above the angled hammer of the raised gun which, for now, still faced upwards in the unarmed position. "State your business... and speak slowly."
  12. A letter was finally submitted after the long absence of the one Sabian Devanus. Quite simply on the holosheet, it had inscribed: I'm not quite sure you'll forgive me for this action, but I really am not sure of anything I am doing anymore. This face, body, and soul, it seems so foreign to me now. I've become lost in my old crusade, yet bear the weight of another man's boots. It is the strangest feeling to describe and something I shall never fully recognized. Know this, that my spirit has guided you in some manner before, that you may continue with your path and the path of our child in whatever manner the Force has enstored. Please do need weep in my name or feel any bit of sadness by this, for I have never left you since our meeting long ago in these very halls. My attempts at becoming that man have all failed and I can no longer spoil the name that has clung to my tongue alone. Battle awaits this phantom being, as this body was always intended upon doing. I believe its the only thing I shall be able to do, the only fulfilment I'll have left of feeling what was done was for some higher righteous cause, the only thing that will fill the void. ...I know I also can not choose how you live your life. Mellanie is our gift and entrust that you will treat her with the same love you have given me, that she learn many a wonderful things and live a life away from war, in this peace I am trying to create in some small way. Farewell. His personal artifacts were left beyond, all excluding the man's former uniform to the Rebel Alliance, though having left all the medallions with the rest of his possessions.
  13. An ecrypted comm, detailed extensively with the face and voice of the President, appeared before the stationed crew men and women upon Mon Calamari: -- Greetings... I'm sure some of you may know me... Others progressively younger recruits to the program may not... To you, and to all, I shall introduce myself once again to this grand organization... My name is Sabian Devanus, once President of the Alliance and formerly functioning ambassador in diplomatic relations... I know there is so few I can say to convince you of my judgement, or the very words I speak, no less... As unfortante as the circumstances seem to be, I have become stirred by the acts of war that continue to proceed without retribution. Regardless of any goals of this organization have been claimed, the only important one has been the safety and well-being of the public as a whole, regardless of any stigmatic attachment to them... Just as true, these same feelings stray be to Manaan, another refuge where the remnant populace of conquered worlds and Jedi have converged. A beautiful, somber place that I see... Now filled with silent cries that demand reply. I am not sure how long this has been going on, neither of the proper way to fortify these people at this time. All I ask is the chance for some assistance to be made and for the position to put myself in this mess, to help these people in need... I ask for your support again, now, as your President, to act once again. Thank you, May the Force be with you always. -- The transmition ended shortly, loading in his co-ordinates with the same holo-fed message.
  14. Arms folded across his chest, the man had entered the training halls shortly after Zara had, having monitored her movements from afar in the long hallway stretches. Concealment was necessary for surprise, having wanted to examine her away from his own influencing presence to find out her true desires. She had been one to be easily to fill the role of pacifist with him, sometimes her love for he blinding the consequences, as the emotion's general nature seemed to be so undying at. "So, you have been training from time to time. I'm glad," His voice was rather hushed, trying not to disturb her meditation, inwardly holding back his own energies from being professed so quickly in the area that was so abundantly to accept the mysterious natures of the Force. Before a reaction was even made, a single finger was lifted against his lips, in silent protest of not wanting to press her mind from diverting from the enlightened goal she so sought for. "Relax. Be still and as calm as the still water. Let the Force wash the depths of your wind and come pure." For now, he stood back and absorbed the energies she had given, soaking in recent memories of time spent away. Smiling outwardly, he lowered his eyes, continuing to monitor her process as his own mind began to wander far off as well.
  15. With a subtle nod gestured as Brina passed, his focus went back to Zara, standing infront of her with a gentle youthful exuberance, bending down his neck swiftly to match his lips against hers before looking back deep into her own eyes. "I know you got alot on your mind now, baby, so I'm going to head to bed soon. Remember, you don't have to decide right away," Delicately rubbing at her waist, he pulled away slowly, his eyes not leaving hers until the final step was made out the door, automatic doors shutting infront of him. Sabian rubbed the back of his head, cracking his neck side to side before entering one of the suite rooms and settled down. Purposely choicing one that was within the ysalamari range, having pretensious feelings towards what the Force had been showing him over the past few days, he was finally given peace and subside for the time being. Hung over the bed side, he turned the covers over his body and drifted quickly to rest.
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