A Pirate's as Dull as Can Be

[StandbyRanger]

Yo-ho, yo-ho, a Pirate's as Dull as Can Be
-an experience, chronicled by Sunny Vastra, for his news site​

[fancybox4="http://i.imgur.com/oItDiwP.jpg?1"]What is it about the pirate's life that captivates a youth so? Is it the desire to explore the vast unknown, or perhaps it's a longing for a bigger purpose in life; if I were to guess, it'd be a love for 'booty.' As a traveler of the galaxy, I've had many opportunities to tour different cultures of varying worlds; the most recent of which being the pirate haven of Ord Antalaha. It's the perfect place to wind down and snap a few decent pics after being cooped up in a Republic jail cell for several months. Ord Antalaha's port of Fort Divin is what drew me in this time: a wild, active nightlife, decent cigar shops, and even smokier women is what beckoned my very soul; but there was more in this city for me than I first thought. And no, it wasn't the fact that the cigars and scotch were tastier than what I remember, or the women more loose than before; but instead, I found something I never knew I would dance with again: camaraderie, and a sense of belonging. Perhaps this is what entices one to join a pirate crew: like-minded individuals whose crusades toy with death, yet bond souls together, and make them harder than diamonds... [/fancybox4]

How long had it been since Sunny had last been on Ord Antalaha? Probably a few months prior to his most recent arrest, he reckoned. Spending each passing day, living from one bar to the next, and sleeping in a new bed every night tends to blur the long-term memory. This was how Sunny liked it, though. He had been a loner since birth; abandoned by his never-to-be-known parents, never making a single friend with another child in the orphanage, and hitchhiking across the galaxy for some ten odd years makes a man hard to befriend. Sunny figured this is what always drew him back to Ord Antalaha, home to the majority of the galaxy's most notorious privateers. He could feel isolated in this terrestrial pirate's cove as a person of little to no interest when compared to the slime balls which inhabited it.

Soloman "Sunny" Vastra was placed on a street corner, not caring who he got in the way of by loitering in the middle of high body-traffic. His camera was placed firmly in front of his face, focused just above passing civilians' heads, and his right index finger pressed down on the shutter button occasionally. Sunny was fishing for a new title page picture for his personally run holonet news site; a pet-project he had been running for a couple of years now. Its true purpose wasn't clear to the Corellian-born, but it was something to keep him occupied in between bounty-collecting. It had a small, almost cult following on the holonet, but it wasn't big enough to draw true attention to itself. Sunny had no doubt that it would stay that way for the near future, but he did not mind. The longer it stayed small, the more time he had to spend making and keeping it his own.

After a good while spent idly taking pictures around the same intersection, Sunny felt a slight brush against his left pocket. Instinctively, Sunny stuck out his left foot slightly, and caught whoever was attempting to pickpocket him. Though he didn't take the time to glance at the petty-thief, he could hear the satisfying thud of face hitting pavement as whoever it was tripped over Sunny's outstretched foot. The man-child snickered before walking off, slinging his camera around his neck, and reaching his now free hands into the pockets inside his coat. Unfortunately for the pickpocket, Sunny kept his credits and other personal effects literally close to his chest. He could hear the disgruntled thief angrily searching for him, though he would not have any luck, as Sunny was already down the street.

The warm, blue lights of the street above mixed with the glow admitted from the ships passing above as Sunny strolled with no pressing purpose. He puffed on a cigarette, being careful not to blow any smoke into anybody's face; he may be a jerk, but he definitely wasn't a d*ck. In his hands, he held his datapad, using it to search for any new and exciting bars to dive into. One bar in particular, Lucky's, was nearby. Despite his many trips to Ord Antahala, he had never once stopped into said bar. Time to change that, he thought. By the time he reached the fluorescently-lit double doors of Lucky's, Sunny had finished his second cigarette and was prepping another one for his time at the bar. He could hear the funky tunes of the bar's playlist playing through the doors, and was assaulted fully by the music when he pushed them open to stride inside.

The crowd was lively, and diverse; he spotted plenty of varying alien races among the patrons of the bar, and a few women of varying species caught his eye: several of which he winked to as he passed by their tables. When he arrived at the bar, he eased into an open seat and ordered a decent enough scotch when the Kel Dor bartender approached him. When his drink arrived, he lit his cigarette and spent time switching between puffing on it, sipping at his drink, flipping through the assorted pictures he took throughout the day, and prepping his site for his next article on the night life of the planet. What a peaceful night it would be. Or, so he thought...

@Nostromos

 

[Nostromos]

From a table situated near the back entrance to Lucky’s employee area, a booming din of laughter and the occasional expletive filled the bar. The group involved were all standing around a table, obscuring the two people who were sitting down. From the comments that most of the men threw out (in varying languages) it could be discerned that a rousing game of Sabacc was being played, and the stakes were above average. The hand had just switched, and a once winning hand was now rendered useless, as the opposing one was one card away from victory. The reward? A pot of creds deep enough to drown a Jawa in, if you tried hard enough.

A Duros sat, hunched forward, as his long fingers tapped against the back of his losing hand. He had been on top for awhile, his eager friends all too happy to cheer and goad him on as he played out his hand, only to have the field change on him. He had waited too long and now he had to face down the bright smile of the young woman across from him. She hadn’t shown her hand yet, but he already knew the game was lost, and he was quickly thinking of ways to swindle or threaten the young Codru Ji out of her (admittedly, fairly earned) money.

Gris Gris Bodragris had a blue drink in one secondary hand (an ode to her opponent) and her cards held gently in her primary set. She smiled and laid her cards down on the table to reveal a positive 23, winning her the game. “Well boys! Can’t say that wasn’t titillating, but I think I better cut my loses--oh! I mean my winnings!” She made sure to punctuate the word ‘winnings’. Gris gathered the chits and shoveled them into the pockets of her suit, ignoring the mad grumbling of the group of Duros smugglers that she’d taken up with.

“Now, hold on there--” The losing Duros was scowling, subtly pulling a small blaster out of his vest and setting it down by the butt of the handle on the table. Gris’s ears drooped low as she looked down at the muzzle pointed at her gut. “I say you should sit back down and play me another hand. All or nothing.”

The soft squeak of something under the table was too tiny to be heard over the noise of the bar, which made it all the more surprising as a voorpak jumped onto the top of the gun, sending the muzzle pressing down into the table top. Before the Duros could fling the tiny creature off, the front of his shirt was grabbed. Gris gave the man enough time to yelp before she placed a rough kiss right on his mouth. His boys shifted from going for their own weapons to whooping and hollering, people turned their heads to look back at the crowded group as mild applause also joined the catcalls.

When the Codru Ji was done, she released him and plucked her little co-pilot off of the table. “Don’t be a sore loser, Hal. See you boys around.” She smacked the ass of on of the smugglers as she walked away from the table, tilting her head back as she downed her shot. No one followed her, the outrage was replaced by confused arousal, which meant she could sit down at the bar and enjoy a less fruity drink than the one she’d just polished off.

“Gimme something pale and light please!” Gris sat down two seats to the left of Sunny, placing Crunchi-mo on the counter and letting the adolescent voorpak attack the fingers on her secondary-left.


@StandbyRanger

 

[StandbyRanger]

Loud, obnoxious racket was always a must-have in the seedier bars of the galaxy, and Lucky's was no exception it seemed; though, Sunny had grown accustomed to the clamor of bar life, possibly because it was him who was the loudest (and drunkest) one in a bar by his fourth or fifth drink. The hollering and catcalls emerging from the back of the drinking hall was enough to catch Sunny's attention this time around; wherever there're catcalls, there is always a pretty and pissed off woman to follow.

Sunny caught the last moments of the Codru-Ji/Duros face-mesh and was dismayed for failing to catch the photo-op. He sighed, but noticed the Codru-Ji making her way over to the bar. Up-close, Sunny could tell she was a looker, and a smirk grew on his lips.

"You're gonna need something strong if you want to wash the taste of Duros out of your mouth," Sunny said over the clamor of the patrons. Rising from his seat, he fished a couple of credits out of his coat pocket (enough to refill his glass and cover whatever the Codru-Ji ordered) and placed them onto the bar once he had approached the female alien. Sunny placed his own empty glass next to the pile of credits, "And someone even stronger if you don't wanna regret that for the rest of your life."

@Nostromos

 

[Nostromos]

Gris tilted her head, those over sized ears flopping comically as she cast her full attention on Sunny. Her smile was slow but genuine. “It’s not so bad, kinda like an ashtray with water and fruit smoothie in it.” The Merc smacked her lips and scrunched up her nose for effect, before she laughed and plucked her riled voorpak off the counter top and deposited him on her shoulder. At the open flirt and the promise of free drinks, the Codru Ji pushed the thick curtain of her hair behind her ear and tucked her chin down, coyly eyeing the specimen that was this bold human. “Someone stronger? Please, tell me when you see this person. I’d be very interested.”

Without having to turn, Gris Gris held her hand out to the bartender as he approached with her drink ,some kind of Neimoidian pale. She liked the light and pale stuff, especially in places like Ord Antalaha, where she couldn’t reasonably hide in a crowd and getting too drunk might vest her of her credits and other things. The cool glass was placed in her secondary left, which she pulled over to her mouth (clumsily) and took a sip.

When she lowered the glass, a thin line of foam sat on the dip of her upper lip; Gris swiped this away with the back of her glove and leaned back on her stool. “Thanks for the drink, Mister---?”


@StandbyRanger

 

[StandbyRanger]

"Vastra; Soloman Vastra," he said as he slid into the stool next to her, "But no need to be so formal; you can call me Sunny. What's the name to match your pretty face with?" He let the earlier jab at his pride slide by covering it up with a smile to match hers; after all, Momma (the orphanage, rather) didn't raise no Neimoidian.

After handing Gris' drink over, the bartender filled up Sunny's, which was thanked with a curt nod, "You know, it's not every day you see a Codru-Ji and her...," he took a second to study Gris' pal on her shoulder, who seemed to not take a liking to the spacer, "furry companion far away from home; but judging by how you handled those smugglers back there, I'm guessing you two aren't lost. You a mercenary, Miss?"

While waiting for the answer, Sunny took one of the bar peanuts in his palm and offered it to the Vorpak resting on Gris' shoulder, "A peace offering, little dude."

@Nostromos

 

[Nostromos]

"Sunny, I like it." Gris gave a soft laugh, setting her glass down and turning to face him fully once he took the seat next to her. "You'd guess right! Me and Lil Crunchi here are frequenters to this particular establishment. I get a Merc discount on Fridays." Gris let her chin rest in the palm of her primary right as she put her elbow on the counter and leaned towards Sunny, she didn't think this particular stranger would mind her being forward. From behind the shell of one of her droopy ears, the gimpy Voorpak skittered down the Codru-Ji's bicep and flopped gracelessly onto the counter top.

Crunchi sized up Sunny, then decided that peanuts were a good enough sacrifice to not kill him over. The Voorpak slunk over, grabbed the peanut with a tiny fist and dragged himself back to the safety of Gris' personal space. Her smile broadened. "Uh oh. You're doomed. You've given him a taste for peanuts and now he'll demand virgin sacrifice."

@StandbyRanger

 

[StandbyRanger]

"I've been wanting those for years now, little dude. We can't all get what we want." Sunny, instead of reciprocating Gris' forwardness leaned back slightly and rested one leg atop of the other; there was no sense in going whole hog from the get-go. He had already cast his line, only needed to keep a cool composure and play a few games now.

"Being a mercenary's tough work, hon. Especially for someone so young," he took a sip from his drink, the sweating ice clinking against the similarly dew-covered glass as he set it back down; his rather delicate fingers toyed with the wet glass as he went on, "I know for damn sure it's not good for your youth, or beauty; been at it for more than ten years. Now you, I think, would be suited for a more stable job; something like a bodyguard. You flex those 'ceps of yours to scare away would-be nuisances, and you'd have dozens of admirers flocking to you."

@Nostromos