A break from the heat.

[ObiWolf]

Territory: Neutral
Zone: Outer Rim
Sector: Arkanis
Planet: Tatooine
Location: Smuggler's Slug Bar of Bestine city.

The cantina was stuffed with tables and chairs. Many of the chairs were filled with rough folk getting some 'food' or whatever they called the 'edible' stuff here. Funded a lot more by crime than quality, it wasn't really a place to find good eating. It was a place to find good contacts. Weapons were allowed into the building, though they were mostly for self-defense. The 30 or so private guards in the building usually kept violence in check. But one never knew, so one always carried.

It was one of those places that seemed stuffed full with dark corners and alcoves used for equally dark deals or arrangements. All sorts seemed to be in here. One of the odd ones was the blue colored two-legged dog taking up one of the booths. At least, one would expect him to be two-footed by the way he sat. A large beat up once rectangle hunk of metal leaned against the table, hiding most of what was under the table. From that, what looked like one of those cycler rifles those tuskans used was sticking out of the wrappings of the shield. And propped over his shoulder was a large metal bar, one end chisel-tipped to make it effectively a sort of spear. And a horrible spear it probably made, full of nicks and warps, bent in several places. You could even see where the old welding was that connected it to something else at one time.

One of the serving ladies was getting irritated at him for just ordering water. She looked about ready to go off on the dog. In the noise of the room, it was hard to see what he said back to her. Whatever it was, it was not received well as she stomped off away from the table. She had been blocking one more thing he seemed to have. A flat piece of metal with Aurebesh writing on it, reading "Will work for ride off planet.". Well, one part did. There was an added word at an angle in order to make it fit. That bent word to fit into the sign's space said "Accord."

Waiting, Bek sipped at the water in the cup he had, wondering if he was going to be kicked out soon.

 

[DancingFox]

Ra'jhan had been planning on making a beeline straight back to the Void, but his ship's food stores had been made for a single person, not three. Setting down on an inhabited world wasn't ideal, but it shouldn't take more than a couple hours to finish restocking, and it's not as if the Sith could escape unless someone knew he was here and who his... passengers were.

It was while he was making his purchases, specifically while he was standing in queues, switching his bracer computer between a visual of the inside of his ship and the latest galactic news, that his sharp (and adorably fluffy, which he hated) ears caught a tale upon the winds of this forum. A Bothan gesturing with a finger towards the Accord emblem that was pinned prominently to his deep blue coat, asking if that wasn't what that 'blue foreigner' at the bar had been looking for. Ra'jhan only caught bits and pieces of the distant exchange, but it was enough to pique his ever present curiosity. He resolved to investigate when he was done with his purchases.

It honestly wasn't too difficult for the former smuggler, turned bounty hunter, turned mercenary to track down the source of these rumors, especially with his penchant for honeyed words and suitably placed bribes. Unfortunately the source in question was to be found in a place that likely wouldn't be too... Accord friendly, considering the organization's lawful state as compared to the riffraff that occupied such a place. Instead of going there himself, he sent a runner, a street urchin who didn't mind a few credits to deliver a message.

It was this dark skinned human child that Bek saw ducking and dodging through the bar in her approach. Dark hair framed a serious face set with large brown eyes that shined with a feigned expression of innocence. "Mister, sir? A furry man told me to tell you to meet him," the girl slides a card onto the table, "here."
And then she waits expectantly

The card bears advertises "The Serpent's Tongue," and bears a strange twisted insignia of a serpent wrapped around a pole. There's an address written in small print at the very bottom.

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek spent his time here, ironically, as he was told this was the place to meet the Accord recruiter. Taking his time, biding till the person showed up, sipping at the water. A familiar scent slipped closer. A small smirk crossed his lips as the little girl came over. He knew most of the kids around here, if not directly, indirectly. He didn't know the little girl's name, but one of his kids likely helped her in some sort of scheme. He doubted that one of the kids would try to trap him.... So ether this was legit, or his friends were setting up a prank or ambush to keep him from leaving.

Of course he knew what she waited for. Hand going into his bag he pulled out a few credits for her trouble. "Keep your nose clean." He said with his voice low so she is the only recipient of the message. It was how he usually said goodbye to the kids he knew. Gathering his stuff, and putting credits down for what he did consume, pouring the water he hadn't finished into a container for later use. He headed out of the tavern all armed up, draped with protective layers from the outside heat. Shield on his back with the rifle sticking out from it, muzzle down. Spear in his right, using it like a walking stick, trudging through the sands of the village.

He didn't enter immediately. First he passed the area, just keeping an eye out of the location. Usual hiding spots and 'idle' poses that people used were watched for. Turning down a street, getting a look at the back of the area. Possible reinforcements, possible escape routs. Checked the building for doors or windows big enough to be used. Once he got a map of the outside area well enough, he finally turned in his "stroll" to the door, giving it a knock.

 

[DancingFox]

Whoever had told Bek that they would find an Accord Recruiter in that bar might as well been trying to get the man killed. While it was true that the Accord attempted to reform former criminals, the vetting process involved more discreet inquiries and background checks, followed by an official request, rather than open recruitment drives. The Accord only accepted the best, and the most promising after all.

The Serpent's Tongue turned out to be a rather lavish establishment. The exterior of the building would have the common man think of it as a diner, albeit a heavily modernized and expensive one, with a balcony overlooking the space port. There were several 'bystanders' watching the street and the door, and the side alley that led to the back hosted two of them, which kindly asked him to turn back. It was apparent that they were guards of some sort, if the prominent blasters at their hips and their too casual poses didn't say it clearly enough. It seemed that the only way in and out would either be the front door, or climbing the balcony.

Even before Bek can knock, one of the thugs holds up a hand and asks if he has an invitation... and if the card is presented, he's stared at suspiciously, considering his garb and weapons but let inside. They're payed to guard, not ask questions.

Entering, it becomes immediately apparent that this is an upscale risque cafe. The waitresses, and even waiters, are clad in rather skimpy uniforms that display flesh, fur, or scales in copious amounts and move with well trained elegance and grace to best display themselves. The atmosphere isn't sleezy as you usually expect from such places though. In fact, the customers and the staff seem quite polite despite the ambient undercurrent of pleasant tension. Whoever runs the place picks their clients well, and makes sure the staff is well treated.

For a few moments, there's no sign of whoever invited Bek, but then a soft and faintly feminine voice rings out from a corner lit by subdued orange hues, "Ah! You'd be the one I've been hearing about, yes? Come. Sit. Order something if you like." The voice comes from a rather fine specimen of the species known as the Nalroni, clad in a blue silk jacket with a white tunic and fine black pants. A hand set with three clawed fingers beckons the blue furred alien over as he speaks, and drawing closer to the light, one can see that the man has the physique of a fighter, well muscled and lean, and the seeming mane of feathers is in reality woven into the strip of long fur that runs between his massive ears and down his neck in a thick ruff. "You can call me Hessar. I understand you're looking for the Accord?"

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek pondered these routes. His shield was not laser proof, but it could probably stave off a few shots before something burned through. It had once been the siding on a speeder. The surface of it warped and lumpy, having beat it into shape with whatever he had, and didn't really have the means or care to smooth it out once it was in the general shape he wanted. Practically everything he had looked scavenged, except for the water skin. One thing was for certain....he did NOT look like he belonged here.

The females were glanced over. Appreciated, but not his target. He was checking the interior, seeing how many of the clients were armed, and how many of the workers were armed. Someone's called out to him, turning to face the....well, he hasn't seen one similar to his species in a long time. A little thrown off, he moved over to the table. Disarming took a few moments. The straps that held the shield on were slipped off, putting it and the secured rifle on the floor leaning against the table. The spear was put right next to it. If it could be called a spear. Warped, dinged piece of scrap pipe. The water skin was kept on, sliding onto the seat, finally pulling back the cloths over his head.

Solid black eyes seemed to peer around the room, this time more curious than cautious. "Never been here before." He said simply, scratching the side of his neck a couple times with those claws of his. "Not exactly." He said in response to Hessar's question. "Stuck on this planet, looking for a way off. Woman called Rails said the Accord could help, just need to qualify to join." If there was a menu he would glance over it, but didn't pay it much mind beyond that. If a server came over, he would just request for water.

 

[DancingFox]

Inside, only a few appeared to be openly armed, and those were all clients. Ra'jhan was one of these, with two sleek Edemmian designed heavy blaster pistols at his waist. Despite the lack of internal security, no doubt there were at least a few weapons secreted about the room, and no doubt at least one or two of the 'associates' knew how to use them.

Ra'jhan's eyes roved over the blue furred alien, narrowed, and then examined the crude weaponry, dismissed it, and returned their gaze to the man who now sat before him. Those golden eyes, which a moment before seemed so warm, full of vigor and energy, flashed cold and calculating for the briefest of moments before returning to their natural state. The lithe male extended a hand across the table with a truly friendly seeming smile, and that incongruous near feminine voice rang out again, clear despite the ambient chatter. "You'd like to join our organization? I'd love to hear a little about your background and your skills, if you don't mind. I can't just drag any handsome man back with me to headquarters, especially not with my cargo."

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek considered the hand that was offered to him. For once, it was easy to guess what he was looking at, but as soon as he lifted his eyes, those solid black orbs just didn't seem to focus on anything. He noticed the glance to the equipment he had. Everyone looked at what he carried. It always seemed to be some sort of judgement of strength, the expensiveness of their weapons. He took the hand and gave it a shake, though wasn't sure what it was for exactly. Wasn't the handshake more towards when you reached an agreement?

"My background. And skills." He repeated, for once leaning back against the seat, relaxing a little. While Hessar's eyes went cold and calculating for a moment, Bek's seem to ease. A much more relaxed aura seemed to come forth. And it stayed, instead of hiding away like Hessar's calculating side. "My name is Bek. I come from a planet that no one I speak to knows of. Got stranded on this planet as a child." Without really thinking about it his hand took hold of the spear, but just tilted it off the table to rest against his shoulder. "Knew no one when I got here, worked with some orphan kids to live a little easier here. The adults around here see the young as vermin, don't realize they need to grow up fast to survive out here."

If the water had come by then, he would take a sip from it, but leave it alone otherwise. "I used my people's weapon to hunt and protect myself. Made a hideout outside of town. I hunted to get food, sold whatever I could find for water. Saved every credit I could get my hands on for rough times. I took a few low bounties. Had no reason I should have survived it at my age, but working with my partner we set up ambushes to remove the fight from the target before they removed their blaster from the holster." He seemed to get lost in a thought for a moment, smirk crossing his lips. "The look on those bounty scout's faces seeing a twi'lek and myself, children, dragging up the bounty they had been searching for for several days was priceless. Still took a cut of the bounty for our trouble, though."

Seems he was winding down on the story. A thumb gestured to the rifle set with the shield. "Found that when on a hunt. Been working with it to improve distance hunting, waste less energy chasing sand lizards by foot. Ammunition for it is harder to find, though, but I can hit somewhat accurately about thirty five yards, if my friend is telling me the truth. Prefer to hunt at twenty five, so it doesn't suffer if I am off. Trying to get further but can't practice much. Too wasteful to set up a range and practice distance." And finally he stops, unless stopped before that. He would wait to see what the guy thought. He didn't think it was all that impressive, nothing like all the stories the pilots seem to have. But he was alive on this barren planet, he wasn't going to complain about not having enough crazy adventures.

 

[DancingFox]

Ra'jhan stayed quiet throughout the story, silently assessing the truthfulness in the man's words, lining it up with the small amount of background checking he had attempted while he waited for his arrival, and downing what smelled like an alcoholic beverage, amber colored, and taken in shot glasses. His only reactions were a head tilt here or there, and perhaps a slight narrowing of the eyes at certain details, but he continued smiling throughout.

When Bek was concluded, Ra'jhan folded his arms, his smile fading into a thoughtful expression. "You seem." He paused, considering for a moment before continuing. "Resourceful, if ill equipped. Perhaps I can rectify that." Three claw tipped fingers tapped against the table for a few more heartbeats, and then he shook his head. "I'll have to contact my boss first though. I don't have the clearance to authorize bringing the uninitiated into our space..." Here he flashes a quick and easy smile. "... Unless we plan on them not leaving again."

A few credit chips are palmed from some unknown place, perhaps from up his sleeve, and then left on the table. "However, I am willing to offer you a lift, on a few conditions. One being that if you mess with my current cargo, you won't be escaping my vessel alive, one way or another. Second, you're going to have to pull your weight around the ship, and I'm willing to teach you enough to enable to do that. Third, you're going to have to listen to my rambling without complaint. Need someone to talk to while in hyperspace, and my cargo is either too chatty, or won't talk."

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek listened to Hessar. The rules seemed simple enough. He had implemented rules at his hideout to those who joined. Rules were there to state what was okay or not, and who was in charge. The one in charge made the rules. Hessar was, even if unaware, putting himself in the dominant role by laying down the rules. Not that it was needed, the guy owned the ship. His territory. But the rules still didn't sit comfortably with him. Not fully.

A thumb ran over the haft of his spear, picking at one of the scratches with a claw. "I am willing to learn." He said, back rested against the back of the seat, trying to adopt a more relaxed pose. "My question would be, where would you leave me if I am not allowed in 'your space'." He let that question sit there, or be answered, before speaking the next part. "And what is this cargo? If it is slaves, tell me now; or something criminal. I fought tooth and claw to keep myself from falling into crime. Hard when on this planet. I don't want to loose that now so close to getting off of it."

He waited to hear what the explanation was, if there was one, and would decide how to proceed from that point.

 

[DancingFox]

His brief recitation done, Ra'jhan lifts the glass at his side, tongue dipping down swiftly to collect the liquid within, and then retreating back into his muzzle in an act of repetition. The angular and narrow profile of his skull prevents beverage consumption in the typical human fashion, but the Nalroni makes do, despite the narrow construction of the glass, using the action to give himself time to think how to answer, and how to word it. The Nalroni made most things up on the fly, and that's exactly what he was doing at this very moment.

The first question is answered easily enough. The Nalroni lazily waves it off and responds immediately. "My ship has a class one hyperdrive. If you are deemed not suitable, I can spend a few days to drop you off at a planet of your choice, so long as we stay flying Rimward. I have a good feeling about you though, and a Nalroni always trusts his instincts in these matters."

The second question is what engenders the man's pause to drink. Amusement flashes through his mind, though his face still remains locked in an expression of easy warmth. "Bek, if I was carrying slaves, or drugs, or performing other illegal acts, I wouldn't be a member of the Accord in good standing. If you wish to know what my cargo is, you'll have to accept the terms first. I suppose I can tell you this much though. The Accord doesn't take slaves, only prisoners, and of those, only enemies to justice and to the Republic."

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek watched as the other lapped at his drink. It was an odd image, and he was punted back a little into his own memories at seeing similar things. But out here in the desert, a few times, every drop counted. He had taught himself to carefully pour instead. The type of hyperdrive went over his head, it seemed, sort of just staring silently with no real visual markers of recognition. It was that, or it was just those solid black eyes making a natural Sabacc face.

Giving a slow nod at the Rimward suggestion, he didn't seem bothered by it. "If not, would like a place that might have a lot of knowledge of the system. One day would like to visit home, if only to-eh" He sort of cut himself off, drinking his water, giving himself a moment. "to see how things are now." His thumb rubbed at a nick in the spear as he tried to think. "Been here so long, might be nearly as outsider as anyone around here. Don't think I would be able to stay."

He seemed a little relieved when he heard that the Accord didn't support such crimes. "I was not told what the Accord did, or what they allow. Just that the person didn't like the rules. They said they were trying to get shot, though. Probably just weird." This made sense. He still remembered that slap out of nowhere. Perhaps it was better that he didn't try to get on a ship with them. "I don't know about the Republic. Heard of, but wasn't needed for survival."

Bek seemed relieved, though, shifting closer to the edge of the seat. "How long till we leave? Can't wait to get off this hot planet. Don't want any of my old group showing up to try and keep me here. Said goodbyes, don't need to go through that again."

 

[DancingFox]

Ra'jhan slowly and carefully sets down the drink, a line drawn with black paint on the bony ridge above his eye denoting a raised eyebrow. It might have been due to Bek cutting himself off, or perhaps at his lack of knowledge of both the Republic and Accord. He had grown adept at human expressions over the years that he had been interned in the politics of his homeworld, and the dark elegant lines allowed him to mimic their unconscious miens with surprising accuracy.

A hand was lifted, palm down, and then flipped to one side in some unknown alien gesture as he spoke, "If that's what you wish, then I can fulfill it. As for the Accord, we are... seekers of justice, composed of outcasts and reformed criminals that are dedicated to correcting past wrongs. The Republic is a sponsor of ours, an Empire that spans half the galaxy, and they are opposed by the Sith, who have launched a campaign of destruction against the men, women, and children of the Republic, without discrimination. The Accord is part of this war against the Sith."

His expression had changed gradually as he spoke, switching to something more feral, with teeth slightly bared in a vestigial predatory snarl. The Nalroni were a descendant of a vicious species of apex killers, and though they had turned their instincts to the art of politics and economics, the remnants of their ancestors still showed themselves from time to time.

The man took a deep breath as he finished speaking, gave himself a quick shake and then managed a weak smile. "We can leave this moment, if you wish. I only intended to stay long enough to top off my supplies."

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek listened to the explanation of the Republic and what the Accord was. And who they fought. It sounded interesting, though he wondered what the Sith had to say about it. It was all fine and good to hear what they did....but who knows what truth was? Lies to manipulate was probably not unique to this planet, or to one organization. For now, he would listen, but not take up the full banner with no reason.

The ferocity was a little surprising, not something he was use to seeing. Angry people, definitely, so seeing the hunger there wasn't a first. It was just odd to see it sneak out in someone who almost looked like his own kind. It almost made Bek feel a little stir as well. But it passed as Hessar seemed to pull it back out of sight.

Excitement started to build up, a different excitement, as it sounded like they could leave anytime. It was a thrill, and a freight, the idea of being about to leave this sandpit. A bit intimidating, the last time he left a planet it was not on happy terms. Hopefully now, it would be better. "Then lets go." He said, finishing off the water and then standing up, gathering his things in his partial rush to get moving on his adventure. Eager, it seems. Standing there, pulling his things on his shoulder and arms, he visually looked conflicted if he wanted to load up fully in his rush to get moving. But safety won over speed, slipping on his covers and equipment.

 

[DancingFox]

By the force, the kid was eager! It very nearly brought another smile to the Nalroni's muzzle, or at least the approximation of one. His jaws parted slightly to reveal the dark blue grey flesh within, representing the canid expression widely regarded by humans to be one of contentment. He had been reminded of his younger days when he too was eager to run, to escape, but for entirely different reasons. He understood.

While the Nelvaanian was quickly getting properly equipped for the harsh clime of the world outside, Ra'jhan removed a credit chip from a pocket, loaded it with the proper amount for the services he had requested, and set it on the table. Next, he slipped on the simple all temperature cloak that he carried as protection from the elements, pulled the hood up, and signaled to both Bek and the waiter that had been serving him, with a nod, that he was ready to leave the premises.

It was apparent from the direction that the lithe and graceful warrior led his new companion that they were heading towards the spaceport. It wasn't all too surprising given that... well, that's where you would park a ship, right? Right. You'd expect it to be a trip made by speeder, but it seemed that Ra'jhan had payed a pretty penny for a VIP hangar positioned near the entrance, and it was only a few hundred meters from the 'restaurant'. The Nalroni typed in a quick code on the panel by the locked door of the large dome shaped structure, and it slid open with a quiet hiss.

Inside, a vast chamber was revealed, and in the center, the sleek black and bronze lines of an Edemmian Sunskimmer-Class Starbird. The vessel is in pristine condition, and from all appearances, seems unarmed. Hint, it probably isn't. At some unknown signal, perhaps a quiet voice command or a hidden controller on Ra'jhan's person, a rear hatch hissed open, with a ramp descending to facilitate entrance.

Inside, the ship revealed that much of its mass was devoted to the fuel scope and its supporting systems, with only six or so small rooms actually available for use. The cockpit, a lounge area with two chairs and a small table, built in to a kitchenette area, a bedroom with two bunks, a shower, an armory, and one other reinforced door that, as they entered, the Nalroni pointed to and said in a decisive tone, "That's where my current cargo is. You may see me go in there from time to time. you are not to follow or enter that room without my permission, which I'll grant only after I'm sure of your intentions. Attempting to enter without my permission /will/ set off alarms, and I'll probably kill you for that transgression." The man smiles thinly, a promise of violence and a knowledge of dangerous evident on his posture. "I only hunt the most dangerous game."

"In other news, you get the top bunk, you can stow your stuff in that trunk over there, and as long as you keep neat, especially near the cockpit, I won't complain." The areas were swiftly pointed out as he spoke and divested himself of his cloak by throwing it over one of the lounge chairs, followed by his jacket, and then he disappeared into the small corner room that had been identified as the bathroom, only to reappear a few moments later, dressed in much less luxurious brown trousers and an open vest, with a sleek pair of Sunspear blasters, one on each hip. "There's just one last thing," he said casually, as a hand strayed near the grip of one pistol. "I need some that your story is true. I'd ask that you open your mind to me and let me verify the truth in your words."

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek didn't have an all-weather cloak. Well, perhaps he did. It was all-weather for Tatooine. Not much weather variation here. With his shield and rifle on his back, his bag hoisted on his shoulder, and his spear on his right hand, he followed keeping his shaded eyes on the people around them. Probably habit, if it was true that he grew up on this planet it wouldn't be surprising.

The ship. He stopped when he saw the ship. There was a definite hint of nervousness as he looked at the vessel. And he would stand there, staring, till the hatch came to rest fully lowered. Shaking himself from the mental daze, he took steady steps into the ship, following his new ally. Hopefully, new ally. The tour was quick, which resulted in him putting down the heavy shield and rifle, followed by his head and arm covers.

"No reason to enter then." He said with a nod at the threat. As long as Hessar told the truth, why should he push it? When told that he had the top bunk, he looked a little unsure at first. But once he looked around, and noticed that the beds were arranged one on top of the other, the confusion eased away. Must mean top bed. And then the confusion was immediately back.

"Open my mind?" He asked, brow raised, hand gripping the spear. "What, you have a droid that can read if I am lying?" He saw no method of him testing the truth of his words. "No reason to lie about my past. Would have a more interesting story to tell if I did."

 

[DancingFox]

The Nalroni's lower jaw dropped slightly, once more taking on that expression that was meant to portray amusement when combined with his one raised brow. "I'm what someone would call a shaman, others, an adept of the force. If you were lying to me, I suggest you don't make any sudden movements. If not, then you have nothing to fear."

The man's free hand stretched towards the Nelvaanian, fingertips seeking the slope of the blue furred creature's brow. Slowly he moved, though his muscles strained with a tension that said he was ready to jump into action. "Repeat your story again, and then swear that you mean me no harm, and that you have no knowledge of my cargo. A simple thing. I promise you that you will come to no harm, even if your intents are malicious. The cargo won't be my problem anymore soon enough."

 

[ObiWolf]

Bek's expression shifted more in sudden surprise and interest. "A shaman?" He asked, head tilted to the side. "Before I left home, I was in line to be the next shaman." He said, which if the scan was started already, would ring true. The hand was looked at a little funny as it reached closer, but he didn't brush it away.

The story, though not told exactly the same, also came out true as far as his memory recalls it. There was things left out, of course, his whole history couldn't be run through so quickly. Depending how deep the scan went, images of memories connected to the story might pop up. Standing over a sand lizard with a spear sticking out of its back. A dark room lined with scrap metal and leaking sand here and there. A young girl, blue Twi'lek, was there. And then wasn't. And then was replaced by many bodies and faces. The Twi'lek talking to some adult in a rubble-strewn room. Quickly getting closer to the adult from behind. A warped metal staff swung, connecting to the back of the male's head, coming up with the story of the bounties he had taken.

Some things were kept to himself, but that was nature to keep some things private. "I do not mean you harm, as long as you do not to me." True. "All I know about your cargo is that they are prisoners, as you said. And they will be brought back to your people." True. A little bit held back, but true. Nothing solid, not like what was kept closed off during his story. More likely they were vague ideas or assumptions about the cargo.