Vhalin & The Fall of Skaver

The surly, gray, and perpetually annoyed Cathar steps from the speeder onto the Nar Shaddaa casino platform. He nods, tapping his wrist to transfer credits before striding forward into the reception area of the gaudy holographic and neon adorned monstrous alter to the sin of gambling. Scanning the area, he observes the collection of mercs and bodyguards loitering at the entrance. Some he recognizes. Not by encounter, mind you, but from dossiers he’s read. One or two manhandled have open warrants in nearby systems. Vhalin’s tongue massages his feline teeth, searching for a bit protein stuck between two molars. He steps up to the guards just off the main gambling floor. “I’m here to speak to your Pirate King boss, Skaver.” Even back then, he still wanted the title of ‘Pirate King.’

Vhalin’s statement is offered with disinterested passivity.

Skaver’s security laughs at the Cathar they once had chained and ransomed. Their mirth is near tangible. Vhalin is but a walking joke to them. A weakness. A small and passive creature. The Cult of Exar Kun (as it was before it was forced to become a Coalition) sent this man? Not a Sith? Surely Skaver will sent a message back to the Grand Lord for her continual insults and lack of attention.

Slowly and cautiously, the Cathar emissary is escorted through the back hallways of the bustling casino, past the counting cages and security office, through the VIP area and outdoor private lounge to the restricted area. Here the darkest and most secretive deals are made. Imperial generals meet with Hutts, Republic SIS operatives meet with Sith, Cartel members meet with Mandalorians, and Jedi make deals with criminals; all before the plush throne and watchful eye of the Dead Star Syndicate’s psychopathic figurehead. The room is littered with the profane decorations of trafficked sentients in minimal covering for entertainment, destitute civilians waiting their turn to pay debts, Sith and mercs of questionable backgrounds on Skaver’s payroll, and various high rollers seeking anonymity and debauchery.

One of the Mandalorian mercs pushes Vhalin sharply forward to stand before the great Skaver. Vhalin winces and looks to the armored bruiser. “Unnecessary…” The armored aggressor simply grunts in reply.

The gray Cathar straightens his tunic before walking to the bottom of the steps to stand under the Pirate King’s watchful eye. Skaver’s non-bionic left eye gleams despite the gray color, the Rattataki criminal mastermind glaring down at Vhalin like a hungry Krakjya.

“Great leader,” Vhalin says with rehearsed and forced professionalism, “I come on behalf of the Grand Lord of the Cult of Exar Kun. I have come with imp-“

But Skaver is annoyed. “The Grand Lord sends me you?” There is laughter from his guards. “The pathetic agent my men captured and beat? The gray and useless tool? Look at you.” There is more laughter and Skaver’s berating draws the room’s focus. Deals are paused to view Skaver’s grandstanding. Vhalin remains nonplussed. “I have tolerated Pegarus’ disrespect with regard to our deal. She barely responds to my overtures. She sends children and weaklings to negotiate. And now you.”

Skaver rises from his throne. “Tell me, emissary; why should I not simply send you back in pieces to encourage my partner to grant me the respect she’s presently denying?”

Vhalin, who had been working on the piece of meat stuck between two teeth, holds up a finger to Skaver. He nearly has that annoyance free. But it’ll have to wait. “If you’ll allow me to finish…” There’s a long pause and all eyes watch the Cathar make an odd face. And then suddenly… FREEDOM! The strand is released and he has the comfort he’s been seeking for over an hour.

“As I was saying, I have come with important changes to the present arrangement you have with the Cult of Exar Kun. The inroads you have made with regards to corporate espionage are appreciated and will continue under our oversight. We will be annexing your Syndicate and corporate connections. In recognition of your service, you will be allowed to retain the piracy and mercenary contracts you have amassed so long as you assure me, as the Grand Lord’s envoy, that you will not attempt any moves upon us in retaliation to the aforementioned restructuring. A further list of conditions and stipulations is enclosed on this pad.”

Vhalin holds out a pad.

The room is silent waiting for Skaver to speak. Every one looks to Skaver, standing at his throne, glaring down at the surly and disheveled Cathar. The Sith Lord to Skaver’s right hand, a powerful Lord that once served Darth Lustra, can hear Skaver’s rage in the form of teeth grinding. Yet Skaver smiles. “I’m going to bleed you. Personally,” Skaver says softly. “Flay your fur and make a rug that I will break my newest concubines atop. Just for relaying this message from your Grand Lord sl-“

“This message is not from the Grand Lord,” Vhalin interrupts as the lights seem to dim, not through loss of power, but weakening as if the light in the room itself is being dulled by rising darkness. “And it was unwise to attempt to insult her…” The shadows grow long on the walls and underfoot as Vhalin stands passive and unassuming. “I come on behalf of her Lord Keeper of Shadows. He will be assuming the head of the Dead Star Syndicate.”

Most of the mercs do not scream as they descend into their own shadows. The merc who pushed on Vhalin and standing just over the Cathar’s left shoulder is not as silent. He screams as he disappears into nothingness. Skaver looks to the scream, but quickly turns toward his Sith contingent to act. The former lord struggles silently, shadows strangling her neck and limbs, drawing her into oblivion’s embrace. Her struggle is momentary, but her eyes reveal terror as she loses her grip on what remained in the light. Skaver looks for any remnant to carry out his orders, the room shrouded in shadow. Even Vhalin is now unseen.

“Take this offering,” a whisper surrounds the Pirate King from a voice he’s never heard, “Leave without uttering a single word and retain the pathetic collection of pirates and mercs with which you retain influence. Speak and lose any right to goodwill the Grand Lord has set aside for your limited cooperation.”

Nothing more is uttered. The posh throne seat is vacated. And Skaver takes very few possessions. He flees with only a hanging carbonite figure, whatever credits he can carry, and a few trinkets.