Cantina Royale

[Moor Todan]

Episode 105: Cantina Royale
"Fortune's expensive smile is earned, not spent."

Good luck! Senator Moor Todan visits Narshadda looking to satisfy his gambling habit far away from the prying eyes of the relentless Coruscanti press. Joined by Darren Reed, the two engage in a thrilling game of Pazaak...

There was misery in the streets of the Smugglers' Moon. It had soaked into the sidewalk cracks and into the graffitied walls. It was in the boutiques that had once been loaded with quality supplies and now housed second-rate smuggled goods for a few credits. It was in the back alleys where the few restaurants who persisted in trading had their garbage searched several times a day, and not just by the Tookas. It was etched in every gaunt and dejected face that had given up on life getting any better than meant survival on mean streets, and those faces became more ubiquitous with each of Moor's visits on Nar Shaddaa.

He enjoyed the quietude that the backwater world offered him however. Everyone was minding their own business: criminals demanded that their privacy be respected. In the Core Worlds, he was Senator Moor Todan of Nubia, constantly recognized and solicited for public events that he was expected to be honored to attend. Here, he was a man like so many other looking to indulge in some of life greatest pleasures.

Moor glanced at his reflection in a nearby window as he approached the cantina. His clothes were casual, but so impeccable they appear new. His sharp jaw, chin, and cheekbones rested on an angelic face. On either side of his straight nose were two blazing hazel eyes. Spiked, warm brown fringed with smooth green. His dark brows were actually graceful, but currently furrowed in a frown.

The cantina was filled with hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the eclectic music that dominated the atmosphere. The clientele was young, amateur smugglers for the most part. Moor Todan winded his way through the crowd to order a drink. He then decided to tempt his luck at the nearest Pazaak table. Sitting and waiting to be joined by an opponent...

OOC: PvP, death and capture disabled.
OOC thread: The Wook, Darren Reed and Moor Todan's Pazaak game.
@Nor'baal

 

[Darren Romulus Reed]

Darren was in his element, having lost track of the time some hours (he thought?) ago - absorbed entirely by the game that was before him. The greatest game, one which combined luck and skill on the tables, with character and panache (and just a dash of charm) toward those sat around them - Pazaak. Having made, and lost, a fortune at the game, Darren considered himself something of an expert in it, and had built something of a name for himself in the seedier parts of the Galaxy Nar Shaddaa and Canto Bight in particular had experienced the whirlwind of spice, booze and partying that was a visit from Darren Maximilian Harquin Romulus Reed.

Kicked back in his plush chair at the same table he had been scouring for much of the afternoon and evening, Darren had a small posse gathered about him - all vying for the attention of the Gambler, or trying to catch a whiff of his infamous luck. Dressed in a purple silk shirt, buttoned scandalously a mid-way up his chest, and deep red trousers (such was the fashion it would seem) with a golden strip cut up their side, he had a small HB-01 Blaster tucked in his back pocket, appearing unarmed - as was something of the norm for the reckless gambler.

His shirt sleeves tapered off with the assistance of two cufflinks, bearing the image of a clutch of Pazaak Cards - the mini holoprojecters in the cufflinks enabling the 'cards' to change their numeric value, much like the cards on the real tables did. Around his neck, a golden chain rested, a motif of a pair of dice as its focal point, a heavy set of rings on each hand spelling out the words 'Aces' on the left hand and 'High' on the right. All in all, his accessories had cost Darren a small fortune - but such was his wont.

Despite being indoors, he was wearing sunglasses, the hologlass allowing him to see whilst still looking fly - the lenses a natural yellow in tinge. It was through this odd tinge that Darren saw the approaching man, who looked to the empty seat about their table. He leaned back in his own chair, hauling in his latest winnings - paid in the heft peggat naturally, and waved over his tired looking protocol droid, which approached, bottle in hand.

"Darren Maximilian," he continued as the other man sat down "...Harquin Romulus..." he held his empty glass up to his droid, who filled it for him, Darren not paying a care in the world to his automatron assistant "...Reed." he finally finished his unreasonably long name, and took a sip of his drink as he asked "And you?" eying the newcomer, Moor, up and down with a smile as he signalled for the dealer to get to work.

Spoiler: OOC

Yes, I spent all the proceeds of Darrens previous work on clothes and cufflinks.

 

[The Wook]

The past week had been dreary to say the least. The skies had been overcast with a near-constant drizzle. The rain carried with it a chill, and heating elements in the outdoor venues had been working overtime. Bursts of steam escaped from cracks in the ground and roofs where water had seeped through and been flash-boiled upon contact with the heaters. Biological lifeforms abandoned their outdoor venues and replaced their posts with server droids that did not care about cold. Their gray, impersonal mannerisms perfectly matched the weather. Winter on the Smuggler's Moon sucked.

Naturally, in these conditions, most people moved indoors where better climate control existed. Jondar's Cantina was one of the larger one, and today it drew a respectable crowd. A trio of Bith musicians serenaded the crowd with a constant stream of background music that most people ignored. It did, however, make eavesdropping on conversations more difficult. Many groups were sequestered away at tables and in corners, huddled over hookah or alcohol, and spoke in hushed tones or alien tongues. The gossip was juicy and invariably illegal in the more civilized corners of the galaxy.

The Wook was engaged in a rather unproductive conversation with an Aqualish that held property next to The Wook's warehouse. The Wook wanted to buy, expand, but the Aqualish was having none of it. The Wook's reputation, nor his wealth made the alien budge. It was irritating. The Aqualish owned two building and enough empty space for a landing pad. Combine that with the renovations that The Wook wanted to make to his warehouse and he could have a quasi-compound that would make more money than just the warehouse alone.

With a snarl of disgust, The Wook shoved away from the bar, finished with the argument. He could have the guy killed, but that didn't necessarily mean the property would go up for sale. The beginnings of a plan started to form in his head, but right now he wanted to have some fun. He spotted someone that looked familiar at a Pazaak table. It was almost too hard to tell with the ridiculous outfit, but The Wook was pretty sure that was Darren Reed. He drew nearer and saw that it was indeed Darren. The Wook shook his head and sat down at the table, drawing his own personal pazaak deck out. "Hnnnhrrhhh huurh Aaaaahnr! Wrrhw uughguughhhghghghhhgh uughghhhgh, aarrragghuuhw." He did not recognize the other man at the table, so he introduced himself. "Huurh Awwgggghhh Aarrragghuuhw huurh." It did not appear that the game had started yet, so The Wook began to idly, but expertly, shuffle his deck.