Arban stood off to one side, away from the festivities that drew many of the voidsman... looking distinctly out of place. The young man wore the clothing of the Nobilite, marking him as a Navigator. He wore a scarf around his head, masking away his third eye (both for the comfort of those around him, and to ensure that no one attempted to stare into it, with the consequences thereof). However, his eyes marked him as what he was. A mutant. Completely black, dark as night. The young man had some food, and a small bit of wine, and nibbled at both. He wasn't comfortable. This place was to large. Arban had been born in tight corridors and small rooms, and almost all of his life lived in them. He could count the complete days he'd spent on a planet on one hand. Even his training had taken place aboard a large vessel owned by Benetek.<br/><br/>The ground didn't feel right. It should hum... tell him the engines flared, the ship breathed... that all was right. Mentally, he understood that this was a planet, and as a result, the steadiness was a good thing... but it felt wrong. In his own way, Arban was not particuraly bothered by the displays. Compared to what the criminals he had spent four years with did with their slaves, this was tame. And he enjoyed a pretty woman. But... still his eyes drifted upward. As always, he felt the call of the void. His third eye began to open beneath its veil, and he shook his head, taking a drink of wine. To look into the void, to what lay beyond... to do so would serve no purpose now. He forced himself to taste the wine