To Dance The Hempen Jig (S'Ilancy)

[Galien Moss]

There was nothing like a little blood and frenzy en masse to begin an evening. Galien Moss had never been to an event quite like this one, but that wasn't to say that the woman wasn't enjoying it. On the contrary, she was having the time of her life. After only a few moments of standing in the screaming, vibrantly sweaty crowd, Galien had come to an obvious conclusion; shockboxing was a brutal sport. This was especially true in tonights arena. The vibe of the underground match was nowhere near the excited buzz of normal sports enthusiasts. It was bloodlust, pure and simple, that drew a crowd here. As for the fighters, who knew? Maybe they were in the pocket of a persuasive crime lord, maybe they were slumming for credits, or perhaps it was a simple matter of looking for more excitement that only the unlicensed matches brought. Not that it mattered to Galien Moss. She was the last one to question anybody's moral standards.

The dark-skinned woman watched with unfeined interest as the two Barabels in the hexagonal ring circled each other warily. The smaller of the two had put up a good fight in the first four rounds, but his bloody, beaten body was slowing precariously. Galien had asked about when she arrived, and had a fairly good understanding of how the fight worked. Particularly appealing to her were the insulated gauntlets on the fighters hands. Normally the shockboxing gloves increased their stunning charges by round, gradually inclining to the HIGH setting. Apparently though, these kinds of battles were completely random. It was anybody's guess as to how much of a wham would be given.

The smaller Barabel fighter took an a slice to the chin, and much to the crowds pleasure there was a spectacular display of sparks and loud noise. The smaller Barabel, whom in the absence of a name Galien had taken to calling 'Mickey', flew back and slammed into the triple-braided durasteel cables that encompassed the ring. Galien winced. The bigger fighter--who, again using the same method as with Mickey, she called 'Morgan'--grinned wickedly.

"'Amon' Mickey, ye're a'righ'! Ye going t' let a scallywag like Morgan knock yer block aroun'?"

Apparently he was. The referee droid bustled over and after a few tense minutes of almost complete silence, declared a knock-out. Half the crowd cheered heartily, for they'd just made a few credits on a bet, and the other half... well the other half cheered as well, though a little less enthusiastically; they wouldn't deny that Morgan had fought well, but they were wishing now that they'd not put faith in the underdog, Mickey.

Galien had placed no bets, even though she was no stranger to doing so. Tonight was not a social evening, despite circumstantial evidence to prove otherwise. No, the woman was here on business, business of the highest importance. Galien, for all her faults, had an knack for uprooting potential credit-making shennanigans. Whether it be a quick slice-and-dice job, or a long, drawn-out act of thievery, chances were that Galien knew about it to some degree.

What she didn't know, was art.

Art was what brought her here tonight, to mingle with the lowest of the low and the highest of the high. She'd even taken the time to dress for the occasion. A thin scarlet shirt with a daringly low neckline (the cheap cotton kind that could be bought in bulk) was tucked smartly into a pair of sharp black trousers which in turn were snugly encased in a pair of polished black boots with large silver buckles at the side. Around her waist was tied a wide blue sash, as per usual, and over the sash a nondescript utility belt with a variety of talismans and a single vibroblade. Galien had kept the many chains and beads around her neck--which at a guess numbered nearly three dozen--and the thick-banded rings on her fingers. She would no sooner have parted with those than blown up her own ship, no matter what the occasion.

"My dea' sir, I was wond'rin' if ye'd be so kind as t' 'elp me wif the business tha' I've come 'ere t'nigh' wif. S'not much, jest an inquiry, if ye catch me drift. Pay ye fer ye're trouble."

Galien thumbed her nose at the Rodian beside her and proccured a credchit between her fingers, seemingly out of nowhere. The vertically challenged woman scanned the crowd with practiced brown eyes before turning her attention back to the bloke. She crossed her arms over her chest and jerked her head to the side, motioning him to bend down.

"I'm looking fer a miss 'oo I 'eard could be found down 'ere. Goes by the name Lokl'rien S'Ilancy. Ever 'eard of 'er?"

The Rodian shook his head. Galien nodded and then shrugged, tossing him the credchit. SHe acted as if the negative answer didn't bother her in the least, which was mostly true besides.

"Ah well, no bother then. Thank ye kindly. Ye're a gem to ye're species, ye are."

The eccentric woman winked saucily and then slipped through the anticipating crowd, trying to blend in. She moved to the other side of the makeshift arena as quickly as she could and then planted herself firmly in the midst of some rather bored looking people. The fight had ended, and the next wasn't due to start for another few minutes. With no glory going on in the ring, these fellows were restless. Galien didn't say a word to them for nearly a quarter of an hour, allowing them to become aclimited to her presence. It wouldn't do to just up and ask anybody just as soon as she'd laid eyes on them.

Finally, as casually as if she were asking for the time, Galien leaned over to a dark-featured humanoid. She nudged him with her shoulder.

"'Ello. I was jest won'drin' if I migh' make an inquiry of ye. I've 'eard some tales o' a lady 'oo comes 'ere. Lokl'rien S'Ilancy..."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

The man, Bukk, sniffed rather loudly, looking down to the diminutive woman who'd just elbowed him. His brows furrowed as he studied her, and crossing his arms, the burly human turned more to face her. It wasn't too often a woman came to these matches - sometimes there was the odd one now and again, but for the most part, women stayed away from these things.

"Yer lookin' fer s'Il," he repeated slowly, taking time to process her question. His eyes then looked to the man standing on the other side of him. "Hey Sid - you seen the Lupine around?"

The man he spoke to pushed his horn-rimmed glasses farther up his nose - Sid - gave the woman a look from down the length of his hooked nose. "s'Il?"

Sid jerked a thumb to the ring. "She's in her corner getting ready to fight Campise."



Years ago, she'd started shockboxing. Years ago - before and after her association with the Hutts - she'd been drawn to the ring. It was the competition that pulled her in and captivated her, and soon enough she was climbing the ranks within the unlicensed boxing rings until she'd inevitably won the title. She was fast - and almost unbeaten, and many times over she'd had to defend her title. But s'Il loved it - craved it almost... she relished it almost as much as she relished her art.

And then she'd left to explore other avenues, mostly dealing with robbing museums and obtaining rare artwork and goods. A lucrative business to say the least. She still participated in unlicensed matches whenever the inclination struck - even after meeting Grand Admiral Millard and beginning her relationship with him.

But now, things were a little different. Now, Loklorien s'Ilancy was on her own once more. She'd gone through countless ordeals since running from Millard - from Imperial re-education institutions to a rather... interesting... trip with Arya Ravenwing to Nal Hutta. And now, she was back in the ring. She was back throwing punches and once more fighting for her title. The Lupine was bound and determined to get it, stopping at nothing to win her matches.

Her gloves were her own - custom made by her sister, and she used them fiercely.

Now, sitting in her end of the corner, she eyed the winner of the previous match, a large Barabel going by the name Campise. He leered at her, and she leered back. Her hair tied loosely back, she was dressed in oil-stained grey infantry trousers with a black tanktop that had seen better days, and the Lupine leaned forward on her stool, resting both elbows on her knees as she let her index fingers point to eachother. She brought them close to one another, and a small arc lanced between them before she pulled them apart.

She leaned back then, as a swarthy looking man from outside the ring leaned on the makeshift ropes, apparently talking to her. The Lupine grinned almost evilly, letting out a laugh as she returned the man's words with her own.



Sid sneered. "Ten to one Campise lays her flat on that little rear of hers."

"I dun know," sighed bukk, his arms still folded over his chest, "She may've been out fer a while, but I hear she's stronger and a hell of a lot faster these days - there's talk goin' 'round that she's a werewolf."

Sid scoffed then, and turning, he disappeared into the crowd - undoubtedly to make his way to the betting booth, and rolling his eyes, Bukk turned from his retreating companion to look back down to the woman.

"Swears up and down that he hates her guts, but everyone knows he's got a thing for her," he shrugged absently before letting his eyes take over the ring and the two opponents.

"If yer lookin' fer s'Il, I'd say you found her."

[FireKat]

A strangely-dressed figure paced around the boxing cage. Clad in red leather, the felinoid walked around leisurely, occasionally dragging her fingertips along the caging. Her blue eyes stared from behind a red mask, looking the Barabel and the Lupine up & down, in a strange and uncomfortable way. Her tail swayed in the same nonchalant manner in which she paced around the ring, but lithe muscles could be seen tensing and relaxing beneath her clothes.

To those who frequented the shockboxing arena, she was a notoriously familiar sight. Rumor had it that she'd paralyzed a Gamorrean, put a Gran on life support, and bit off more than one poor boxer's ear.

At 5'2", she wasn't imposing, but she fought dirty, and she fought mean.

[Galien Moss]

Well now, this was interesting. Galien hadn't expected her quarry to actually be in a fight. Watching, yes. Betting, probably. Never in a million lightyears had she thought that the woman'd be in the center of attention. For some reason that was beyond Galien's limited grasp, Loklorien S'Ilancy even seemed to be enjoying herself. But that wasn't what had really caught the she-scoundrels attention. It was the 'Lupine' bit that did. There were millions upon millions upon millions of species in the universe, and it was impossible to know them all. Even those who had travelled their entire lives knew next to nothing in the grande scheme of things. Stories and talk got around though, just as Bukk had proved. Though she had never encountered any of the Lupine blood personally, Galien had heard things through the grapevine. She watched S'Ilancy now with added interest.

"Not everyday ye find yerself lookin' fer such...unique talents. I'm much obliged fer yer 'elp."

Galien flicked a credchit over her shoulder without so much as a glance back to see that Bukk got it, and pressed forward through the crowd until she was as close as she could get to the ring. With arms crossed over her chest she watched as S'Ilancy held a whispered exchange of remarks with a bloke ringside, taking in each detail carefully. As inconspicuously as possible, Galien made eye contact with the man and jerked her head in come-hither manner. She did it only once, not making a big scene or a large deal out of the request. Just as surreptitously as she, he sidled over to where Galien stood, and then turned his back on her to face the ring. Galien kept her gaze trained on the two fighters, but canted her head slightly so that her voice could be heard through the noise of the crowds.

"I'd like to 'ave a word wif the lass," Galien nodded at S'Ilancy, "after all this's done. At 'er leisure o' course. I'd 'preciate it if ye could pass along th'message."

A sudden yell rose from the spectators, and a sly grin crossed Galien's face. It seemed the fight was about to start.

"...When ye can, tha' is."

[Loklorien s'Ilancy]

ooc: my sincere apologies for not replying until now

ic:

The ref motioned to the two fighters, and rising to her feet, s'Il rotated her shoulders as she hop/walked to where the ref stood. The Barabel did the same, and both stood face to face as the referee explained the very few rules that applied to the ring and its opponents.

The Barabel remain stoic, only glaring dowwn at the small Lupine, as s'Il busied herself with continuing to loosen her body - shoulders moving back and forth while she tilted her head to either side.

The ref stepped back then, as the bell rang, and the fight was on.

The Barabel loomed tall, confident that his height and weight would win the match. A smile crept across the Lupine's features, as the two circled eachother, and she too a small step back as her opponent came in, swinging a right hook. The blow itself was easy enough to block, and as she blocked, brought her own arm up in a return hook, connecting easily with the Barabel's head.

A sharp *crack* could be heard as the randomized charge went off, and the alien stumbled back, shaking his head to alleviate the shock that'd ripped through his body.

[Galien Moss]

Her first reaction was to wince and step back; the former was stopped as the Barabel regained his vigor, and the latter by the pressing crowd behind her. Galien crossed an arm over her chest and leaned the other on top, chewing a dirty fingernail with disinterest.

A leather-clad figure passed her and the womans gaze fell from the ring to follow it. She'd already seen some strange characters here, but this one took the cake.

With a raise of the eyebrows Galien turned her attention back to the fight.