A gambler’s den of the Vertical City’s greatest bettors, Club Vertica is a casino reserved for the wealthiest of Nar Shaddaa. Cardshark droids are used exclusively to deal hands to those willing to risk their credits at the sabacc tables. Cheating is rendered near impossible under the surveillance of the droid's six photoreceptors. That of course does not stop the downtrodden from accusing others of being a fraud, which can often happen before someone receives a blaster bolt between the eyes. The few that have able to use skiffers undetected are counted as some of the best swindlers in the Galaxy.

Cerulean lights illuminate the tables, making concealment during a game difficult. Seated around most of the oval tables are a mix of gamblers from different species, succumbing to their addiction for the ultimate prize—the sabacc pot. Credits are tossed onto the tables forming mountains that draw in fierce competitors with deeper pockets and faster wit than the usual patrons.

Behind the games of sabacc, drinks are being served from the alcove of a small bar. Most of these are a shade of blue in color, expertly mixed to dull the senses of all but the hardiest individuals. Onstage, a local band sets the mood of the venue with an upbeat number that deafens out most conversations. The stakes are always high at Club Vertica.

Though Club Vertica was perpetually busy, it took on a life of its own as the afternoon gave way to evening. The clicking of credit chips and shuffling of cards provided a steady undertone, ever present even when the sounds were drowned out by shouts of victory or groans at a terrible hand. Though the band tried valiantly, the gamblers paid little attention to the music; they were so intent upon seeking their respective fortunes.

This was the scene Lucine stepped into as she brushed past the bouncer and made her way into the club. The noise, the garish blue lights suspended over the tables and the occasional shouting did little to improve her foul mood. She had planned on having a quiet evening at home, yet somehow Kordath had managed to rope her into keeping an eye on his new friend. Yeh'd be doin' me a favor. Just look for the huge Chiss. Yeh can nae miss 'im.

Lucine tried to push past her ill humor as she wandered amid the sabacc tables, searching for Kordath's friend. As she searched, she worked to convince herself that an evening out was what she needed. Perhaps some good company would help her to forget about the persistent dull headache she had been dealing with recently. She had almost convinced herself that she was looking forward to the evening when she finally found him.

Kordath had not been kidding when he described Stres'trong'armis as huge. The Chiss easily took up a third of the sabacc table, crowded the other players. The second thing she realized about him was that he was loud. His voice boomed over the din of the gamblers and the band; Lucine could clearly understand everything he was saying from three tables away. Any hope she had of a nice evening quickly fled, as she felt her headache become substantially worse.

Still, she had given her word to Kordath that she would keep an eye on his friend, and that was what she would do. She slipped around the table and tapped him on the shoulder. “Strong?”

The massive Chiss turned to regard his with a large grin. “I am indeed, Miss. Are you Master Bleu's friend?”

“Please, call me Lucine,” the redhead said as she extended her hand. He grasped it, his own massive hand completely enveloping hers. Pleasantries aside, she turned her attention to the large stack of chips that were piled in front of him. “That is rather impressive. I had no idea you were such a talented gambler.”

Strong's cheeks darkened slightly as his voice took on an embarrassed tone. “Truthfully, I am not. I much prefer manly pursuits, such as wrestling and other tests of strength. But these fine gentlemen convinced me to give sabacc a try while I was waiting for you.”

The mention of the 'fine gentlemen' caused Lucine to turn her attention to the other gamblers. There were four others at the table: a Twi'lek, two Rodians and a Human. They were all glaring at Strong over their pathetically small chip piles. Lucine raised an eyebrow; clearly they had hoped to bilk the Chiss out of his money and their plan had backfired. She quickly decided it would be prudent to get Strong away from the table before the weapons came out. “Lovely. Perhaps we should go get a drink?”

“Mind yer business, sleemo. I wanna chance t'get m'money back,” one of the Rodian's snapped.

“Sir! That is no way to talk to a lady!” Strong put in, clearly shocked at the other gambler's rudeness. “I must ask you to apologize immediately!”

“Yeah? You gonna make me?” the Rodian growled. He stood up, and the other three gamblers did the same.

“Uh... Strong, this really is not necessary,” Lucine said, noting with some nervousness that the Twi'lek and the Human were reaching for their blasters.

“Nonsense! I will not sit idly by while a lady's honor is impugned!” Strong said as he too stood up, easily towering over the others. “Stand aside, Miss, while I take care of these ruffians!”

He pushed Lucine toward the bar, apparently intending to move her clear of the impending violence. In that, he was successful. However, the force of the push sent her flying, over the bar top and into the display of liquor that was housed behind the bar. Her shriek and the crash of her impact went unnoticed as Strong threw a devastating haymaker at the offending Rodian.

“Ugh,” Lucine groaned as she stared in dismay at her soaked dress. Ignoring the sound of fisticuffs and panicking patrons, she carefully brushed bits of broken glass from her dripping hair. “I smell like a distillery,” she muttered.

A quick glance upward proved her fears; she had impacted against the lower display shelves, where the less expensive alcohol was displayed. “A cheap distillery,” she added with a sigh.

She took a quick inventory. Her dress was intact, and she did not appear to be injured. But as she returned to the task of brushing off the glass, she happened to glance down at her hand. She froze, staring down at it in abject horror.

Strong threw back his head and laughed as he regarded the fallen foes around him. “Well done, fellows! Now that is what I would call sport!”

His laughter cut off abruptly by the tell-tale SNAP-HISS of an igniting lightsaber. He turned to see Lucine vault over the bar, her emerald eyes flashing with rage and her weapon in hand. The oversized Chiss turned toward the redhead, his hands held up in a placating manner. “There's no need for that, Miss. As you can see, I have already dealt with these ruffians.”

Lucine's eyes narrowed as she aligned and locked her mental cross hairs on him. “You. Made. Me. Break. A. Nail,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “I just got them done today!”

Before the Chiss could say anything more, the redhead darted toward him with her lightsaber at the ready.

Stres'trong'armis stepped back, over the unconscious form of the offensive Rodian, hands still raised as the Coruscanti woman charged at him. It was impressive to the Chiss, how well the casino patrons were dealing with a lightsaber wielding lady in their presence. A glance at a group nearby showed slips of paper and credits changing hands, but Strong had no time to dwell upon this as Lucine closed.

He groped for the riot baton at his belt as he side stepped her initial attack, anger driving the strike. She pulled back, blade held high both upon the hilt and above her shoulders, pointed forward. Strong grasped the handle of his tonfa like weapon, flicking the power on and spinning it once, holding the length along his right forearm and holding it before him. He watched as she spun, pivoting in place to gain momentum with her next attack, the blue blade lashing out.

Strong moved his baton to block, the saber crackling as it impacted the charged prongs. For a moment he thought she would come to her senses when her green eyes widened at the realization that his defense didn't budge an inch under her hit.

"Madame Lucine, please, I understand you are upset. But I fear you're making a scene."

"You threw me over the bar, messed up my hair and broke one of my nails! I am allowed to 'make a scene,' Mister Garmis," she spoke in anger, a flush coming over her pale features.

With a resigned sigh, Strong pushed back against her saber, causing Lucine to stumble back several feet. She shifted gears, stepping to the side and using a chair to ascend a table. As the Chiss approached, she twirled her saber in a showy figure eight, flourishing it much to the delight of some of the on lookers. Strong looked around as the noise in the casino escalated, gamblers watching and shouting encouragement to one or the other of the fighters.

"They're betting on us, now. How delightful; make sure you put on a good show while I care my pedicure bill out of you."

"This is an inappropriate display, Madame. Fighting for sport is all well and good, but this is being fueled by anger and alcohol! You're obviously intoxicated and lost some control; please stop so that we may leave."

"I am not drunk! I haven't had a drink since I got here!"

Strong turned his head and gave her a questioning look, "You smell as if you've had your fill, Mistress Lucine, there is no shame in this but do not pretend that it is not affecting your judgment."

Lucine threw her head back and screamed, cutting through the chatter and shouts of the gamblers. She pointed her blade directly at the Chiss, who was cautiously staying outside of her reach.

"You. Threw. Me. At. The. Bar."

"My apologies for trying to keep a sophisticated Lady safe from blaggards, you are showing you can handle yourself I will admit."

"Oi! Stop jabberin' and fight ya silly gits!" came a shout from the crowd.

"Yeah! Cut his head off, babe, and look good doing it!"

Strong lifted an eyebrow and looked to the crowd. His gaze swept over the variety of species, just catching a Zeltron who cupped his hands to yell, "I got a hundred credits on the big guy, give that silly little schutta a beating she won't forget!"

The Chiss lowered his guard, much to the confusion of Lucine, up on one of the card tables. She watched as he took a few long strides towards the crowd, the nearest gamblers quieting and starting to back away. One large, scarred knuckled hand reached out and grasped the Zeltron by the front of his vest, lifting him from his feet to face Strong.

"You should not use such language in reference to a Lady, good sir."

"S-s-sorry. I'll watch my words in the future. I'm sorry. Please put me down."

With a grunt, Strong tossed the gambler back into the crowd, turning back to Lucine. She looked different, fresher, as she had when she first arrived at the club. He turned his head slightly, this way and that, uncertain of how she'd achieved it but sure it had something to do with the Force. Her poise had returned, as well, and she stood with one hip cocked out and idly spinning her saber, grinning.

"How about this, people," she began, her voice projecting to be heard. The crowd quieted, somewhat, and eyes turned towards her. "I have a very extensive expense account, and am willing to part with, say, five hundred credits to anyone who can knock my large friend here down. That's five hundred credits if you can get him off his feet!"

"This is ill advised, Madame Vasano. I have no desire to harm these people."

Oh like they have a prayer, but it might be fun to watch, he heard her speak in his mind, delight evident in her mental voice.

Again, the big Chiss sighed as he spun his riot baton and began slowly turning to take in the sight of the gamblers, waiting for someone to take up her offer. Surely no one was foolish enough, he thought. Right until a glass bottle flew dangerously close to his face, smashing into the floor.

"Very well! Ruffians, blaggards, scoundrels, and fools! If you wish to do battle with a son of Garmis, then come!" he shouted, facing the direction the bottle had come from.

Strong stared out into the crowd, waiting for any challengers to step forward. He could see that more than one of them were weighing Lucine's offer, greed vying with self-preservation. But as the seconds ticked past, no one answered the challenge.

After about a minute, Lucine sighed in disappointment and deactivated her lightsaber. “No one? Well, I must admit that I am—“

Her words were cut off when two snarling Ewoks abruptly burst from the crowd and darted toward Strong. The Chiss dropped back into a defensive stance and swung his riot baton toward one of the diminutive balls of fur, but the Ewok jumped to the side at the last possible moment. Meanwhile, the second Ewok launched himself as high as his stubby legs would allow and wrapped both his arms and his legs around Strong’s lower leg. With a growl, he began to gnaw on the Chiss’s knee.

“Ow!” Strong bellowed, reaching down to try to disengage the tiny foe. The second Ewok took advantage of the Chiss’s distraction and attached himself to Strong’s other leg, clamping down with razor-sharp teeth to give additional purchase.

Lucine raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh as Strong staggered backward, trying to detach the Ewoks from his legs. Abruptly a Rodian darted forward and threw a punch at Strong’s stomach. The sound of his fist connecting was accompanied by the sound of breaking bones and a squeal of pain, as the muscles of the Chiss’s abdomen proved to be tougher than the Rodian’s fist. Cradling his hand, the Rodian slinked away.

“This… this is most unsporting!” Strong protested as he finally managed to pry one of the Ewoks from his legs. He held him by the scruff of the neck, trying to figure out what to do as the diminutive creature flailed and snarled at him. Suddenly, he found himself grappled from behind as a hulking Besalisk took advantage of Strong’s distraction to wrap both sets of arms around him.

Drawing on generations of tradition and a lifetime of training, Strong twisted out of the Besalisk’s grip before tossing the Ewok at him. The furry creature collided with the hulking four-armed humanoid with an audible thump before both slumped to the ground.

Though it took some effort, Strong managed to free himself from the other Ewok, before lobbing the small creature into the crowd. The yells that could be heard from the spot where the Ewok landed indicated that the furry creature had turned his toothy wrath on whomever he had landed on.

The Chiss sighed heavily as he looked down at his torn pants and the bite-marks on his knees, before turning his attention back to the assemblage of people in front of him. “Who else wishes to challenge a son of Garmis?” he bellowed.

The cheers and cries of the mob gradually died down as they awaited the next challenger. Some jostled their friends, trying to convince one another to try their luck against the gargantuan Chiss. But no one else stepped forward. Strong could not help but to breathe an inward sigh of relief; it seemed that the crowd’s lust for blood had abated.

Lucine beamed as she hopped down from the table. “Bravo! An admirable effort!” she said as she applauded. “But now, let me show you how it is done.”

Strong turned in time to see the redhead draw her blaster and point it at him. “Mistress Lucine! That is most unsporting!”

The Sith merely smiled as she pulled the trigger, and rings if blue energy cut through the air toward the Chiss. Her smile faded a bit when he staggered but did not fall. “Stubborn,” she muttered as she pulled the trigger again.

This time, Strong swayed dangerously before falling forward. Those nearest to him scrambled to get out of the way as he collapsed with a massive crash. His head impacted against a sabacc table, causing the table to buckle and sending credit chips flying in a rainbow cascade of color.

Lucine studied the Chiss’s fallen form with satisfaction. However, her smug expression vanished when she realized that she now has a problem. Just how in the world am I going to drag him out of here?

Atop the gambling table, Lucine had an unimpeded view as the thugs, gamblers, and desperately impoverished took a shot at the hulking Chiss. It was almost surreal, watching the muscled man move more quickly than a man of his size had any right to. And his strikes, quick, brutal, and disabling. She realized after about half a minute of the crowd trying to mob him, that even at a numeric disadvantage, Strong was pulling his strikes and going for nonlethal takedowns.

A strike to an elbow there, a dislocated knee here, choked off screams as someone felt a joint pop out of place. It was violent, true, but on his side of it, there was still control. If he hadn't soaked her in cheap swill earlier she'd have been more impressed, but still. There was a tearing sound as a man with a knife tried to stick the Corsair in the back, Strong twisting away from the blow and reaching out to snap the thug's wrist. She winced at the cracking sound and turned her head slightly as she saw the crowd back off a bit. Perhaps the appearance of a weapon had caused them all to rethink the stakes.

Either way, she watched Strong reach back and inspected the back of his shirt, clucking his tongue as it came back with a trace of red.

"A ruined garment, a shame," he rumbled, grasping the front of his shirt with one massive hand and tearing the fabric away. The mob took another collective step back as the Chiss tossed the shirt away and flexed the muscles in his back, chest, and shoulders. "I had thought this to be sport, an honorable brawl. I fear I will have trouble avoiding killing strikes should any of you come forward with a blade, or blaster, again."

Lucine's green eyes widened, he was really trying not to kill any of these little people despite their aggression. The only reason any of them wanted to fight him was the credits she was offering, and still, he showed mercy.

True to his name, he is quite strong, she mused, eyes glancing over his form as he lifted his arms in a defensive stance once more. A gallant idiot. Could be useful, even if he is sworn to the Ryn.

She began to take a step towards the edge of the table, clearing her throat and prepared to call off the reward when a particularly desperate looking man wielding a chair disrupted her plans. The man was gaunt, his clothes worn and stained, and he was shaking as he stared at the Chiss's back. With a cry, he broke the circle surrounding the Fade and smashed the chair across Strong's back, splinters and bits of wood flying in every direction.

The Seeker winced, internally, when the muscular mercenary slowly turned on the man, reaching down and grasping both shoulders as his assailant stared up at red glowing eyes.

"That was unsportsmanlike, my friend," rumbled Strong with a sigh, moving his grip to the back of the man's coat and spinning abruptly, tossing him like a living rocket towards the surrounding crowd.

"That's enough!" cracked out Lucine's voice as the mob looked close to breaking. "Obviously none of you are capable of taking on my champion, go back to your drinks," she spoke, waving her hand dismissively.

Some of the crowd rumbled in discontent, but most took a look at the Chiss and decided it was best to leave it be.

"Your champion, Mistress Vasano? I believe a few minutes ago you were ready to put your saber through my chest." Despite his suspicious tone, he held out a hand to help her down from the tabletop, his red eyes narrowed to slits.

She took his hand with a gracious nod, and even laughed a little when he lowered her gently to the ground. "Oh, darling, nothing says I won't still. But your Master and I are on amicable terms; I shouldn't ruin that just because you underestimated your own strength."

He looked abashed for a moment, blue cheeks purpling. "I beg your forgiveness, my Lady Lucine, for throwing you into the bar. I meant to remove you from harm, not cause you distress."

It was obvious the Fade wanted peace as badly as she, but still, it didn't hurt to cinch it to her favor. She walked with him back to his original table, where he collected a coat that he swung over his disrobed torso. She debated internally if that was a waste, as he buttoned it shut, but decided it fit him well enough as she snaked her arm through his own, earning another look of suspicion.

"Darling, you were to show me a good time this evening, and while watching you fight was a treat, it was not what I had in mind." She drew on the Force, her words gaining weight as she spoke.

He might be strong of will, just as he is of body, but he is a gentleman...

"First I think you'll take me to get a new dress, I'm sure your Master's accounts can cover it. Then we're finding a proper place to eat," she sniffed and glanced around dismissilvy.

Strong found himself nodding, his thoughts clouding briefly before they cleared. He was almost positive he knew what she was doing, but that was okay, wasn't it? Better to keep trouble to a minumum.

Besides, she was quite charming, he didn't understand why Master Kordath had told him to be careful around her. Perhaps he was just intimidated by cultured women.

"It would be my honor, Mistress Vasano, to show you the hospitality of House Garmis," he rumbled, keeping his stride in check to match her own.