Peeking down at her cards, Tasha'vel's eyes darted left and right. She just needed a bit of time away from Naga Sadow, to allow herself to find her center again. The drone of the music did nothing to settle her mind. The pulsating lights did nothing to soothe her senses. She was no comforted by the mingling stench of perfumes, pheromones and the slight stench of sweat that permeated it all.
One thing the planet did have going for it was how she never had trouble getting in a game of pazaak or sabbac on Nar Shadda. Even on the scant occasion when the night turned slow, she could still enjoy some of the teal-blue Selonian Nectar offered at the bar.
Brushing one of her lekku behind her shoulders with a sigh, Tasha shuffled her cards again before peeking up began to shuffle her cards before peeking back up at the dealer. The Nautolan's black eyes flickered over the woman as he studied her intently for a few moments, but his face betrayed no emotion. The Sadowan felt her stomach sink as she considered her hand agan. Maybe she should have just taken a long weekend at the Boomshakalaka.
Tasha'Vel's thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sound of an igniting lightsaber. Without thinking, the Twi'leki Marauder shoved herself away from the table at an angle. She saw the blue-glowing blade of her attacker's lightsaber pass through the air where she had been leaning against the table, cleaving through the table's surface. Her eyes widened as her gaze focused on her attacker.
The man stood stock-still, with his lightsaber held forward at an angle in obvious challenge. A voice could be heard from behind the bar, demanding that someone call security. It didn't take more than a moment for the woman to recognize the black armored robes employed by many of the Grand Master's Inquistiorius. Below the hood, the attacker wore a metal mask adorned by a red design as pale gray eyes poked out from behind the mask.
"You are guilty of resisting the Grand Master," a modulated voice buzzed out from behind the mask, "give yourself up now, Twi'lek. I found you, and even if you run others can do so as well. I will warn you again: give yourself up. Cowardice is not a becoming trait. I really would have expected more, even in a traitor such as yourself."
Feeling rage swelling in her chest, the Versea Matriarch drew the Force inward for a moment, before she lifted her hand up to chest level. Her fingers were splayed out as she released the gathered energy in a burst of telekinetic energy. Her attacker was fast, throwing himself sidelong.
"Nice try, sweetheart," the modulated voice became distorted in a chuckle, "but you gotta try harder than that to catch up with me."
Her face twisted in frustration and anger, Tasha'vel flexed her fingers out again, this time closing on her cylindrical weapon as she called it to her palm in the Force. The Twi'lek ignited her own magenta blade, closing the distance between her and her opponent quickly. The man brought his blade up sharply so the weapons intersected. A near growl escaped the woman's lips as she bared her teeth at the man and drew back her weapon arm.
"Oh, scary girly," his tone was mocking as he brought his weapon to meet hers again in a hard block. The block did not serve to dissuade the Twi'leki Marauder as she struck again. The masked stranger brought his weapon up again, but his block faltered slightly as their weapons made impact again. His mirth seemed to falter slightly as his stance became more rigid with each strike. The Sith struck repeatedly with increasing frequency, pushing the man back as his blocks slowly weakened. Then, the masked man seemed to slip up. In an attempt to quickly change the angle of his block, he misjudged his positioning, and Tasha'vel saw her lightsaber pass through a portion of the man with a spark.
"Tasha'Vel! Stop," the familiar telepathic call of her fellow Sadowan and spouse pleaded loudly in her thoughts, giving the Marauder pause. As the momentary spots faded, she could see the man raising his intact right hand even as he pulled a his damaged left arm toward himself- an arm that was now sparking, "A moment, I beg you." The Versea Matriarch nearly shot back a foul verbal jab, but she watched as the steely gray eyes behind the mask turned to a more familiar-looking brown. Her former rage slowly faded, being replaced by an indignation which slowly began to grow to even greater heights of rage.
Without losing a beat, the man reached up, pushing back his hood with one motion, and then pulling his mask up with the other. Taking a deep breath, her attacker placed the helmet on the ground. "Well, at least I know you haven't been slacking all this time," Bentre gave a half-grimace as he grabbed at his damaged prosthetic. "Thank the sovereigns that you didn't fall to the first attack. I would have felt a little bad if Lynna'Vel grew up without her mommy because of a little misjudgement." The man motioned as he spoke with his lightsaber still active, but seemed at far less unease than his situation seemed to call for of most sentients.
"You-" the Twi'lek looked at her husband with teeth clearly bared, "can't-believe-Bentre," her words were nearly sputtered for the mixture of emotion she was experiencing.
"It is I," the Corellian Shadow scratched at the front locks of his hair where sweat had plastered the follicles against the hard surface of the mask a few moments prior.
"You ass!" Tears of hurt and anger in her eyes, the Marauder stepped forward. She brought her lightsaber up over her head in a sharp motion before driving it down toward her husband in a savage attack.
