Ask Onderon Crude Confidence

[Cassian Graves]

Life was considerably simpler on the outskirts of civilization on Onderon. Stepping into the Hog's Hock was like stepping back in time, and the tavern's proprietors prided themselves on that peculiarity. The smell of strong ale and roasted hog hit you in waves as soon as you walked through the front door.

The tavern was dark, lit only by candlelight and the fire pit at the center of the room, where a suckling pig on a spit steadily churned over the open flame. Cassian sat alone at the far end of the wooden bar, blue eyes bouncing between the euphonious songstress on stage picking away at a hallikset and the front door, waiting for his contact to arrive.

He had not frequented the Hog's Hock for years, not since his days in the royal guard, but it was unchanged. A fixed establishment in the sleepy, wayside town outside of Iziz. Just the sort of place to blend in and go unnoticed, so long as you didn't cause trouble or pick a fight. Something the Zeltron was not inclined to do tonight.

Tonight he was not Cassian Graves, Consul of Onderon, but just another nameless face in a bar. He wore a dark overcoat and, as an added precautionary measure, a disguise, to ensure that we could not be recognized. No one needed to know his identity. Not even his contact. All she needed to know was that he had credits, and if she lived up to her reputation— that was all she would want to know. @Cybrexian

 

[Eryn Alenath]

Eryn wasn't one for the Hog's Hock. She'd used it as a layover in the passed, grabbing a quick bite or resting there for the night while heading in and out of Iziz, but her trips into the City were rarely the type where you walked in the front gate. She hummed to herself in thought as she slowed the hired speeder bike down, wondering what exactly the contact was hiding from inside Iziz. Sure, it was patrolled more, but every city had its underbelly. Thumbing the ignition off she slid free from the saddle, popping the collar on her battered jacket and rolling the sleeves up. She reached back to push her hair from her face, the dangling pair of pistols briefly exposed from their underarm holsters. Never hurt to be prepared, she thought as she tucked them hidden once more.

The door swung easily, the sound of laughter and music spilling out from the cosy interior as she took a few steps inside. Someone played an near melodic song and the joyful sounds of a full tavern in a sleepy town nearly brought a smile to her face. Nearly. She scanned the central wooden bar that came from the back wall in a narrow U shape, people sat either side.

"Now, which one of you is good looking?" She muttered to herself as she narrowed her eyes. There was a family on one side with a pair of kids, the dad playing some clapping game with the youngest of the girls. "Not you." She said as she slowly stalked within the building, casually winding her way towards the bar with the thud of heavy flight boots on the floor beneath.

At the far end sat a particularly eye-catching Human, floppy brown hair and bright eyes. The type to think they were a ladykiller but generally struck out at the clubs with their vacuous personalities. Near them was another, dressed in a dark overcoat; classically handsome, strong jaw, but Eryn remained unimpressed. Ladykiller it was, at least he looked the type to think himself handsome.

Swaggering up she sidled beside him, placing herself between the two and flagged down the bartender with a raised pair of fingers. She leaned on the bar, eyeing the Ladykiller up and down with her back to Classically Handsome, rolling her eyes as the drink was placed beside her. She picked it up, taking a long slow sip as she stared.

"So, Handsome?" She felt her teeth clench even as the words left her mouth. Next time, they were using better names.


@llamallove

 

[Cassian Graves]

Being the Consul of Onderon had its perks. Acquiring Eryn Alenath's criminal record from local security forces had been easy. The Onderonian had dipped her greedy fingers into a little bit of everything over the course of her blossoming criminal career, from smuggling spice to running guns offworld, and probably a lot more sordid details that didn't make it into the file.

A shame. It made for interesting reading.

When the tavern's front door swung open, Cassian recognized the smuggler right away from her picture. It must have been somewhat recent, because she was altogether unchanged. Blue eyes followed her every move as she circled the bar, entertained by the way she scrutinized each and every face. Admittedly, the Zeltron's instructions had been a little vague, restricted to 'I'll be the handsome one at the bar,' but the Hog's Hock's regular clientele were an especially ugly group of brutes, so it was only a matter of time until she made her way over.

The Zeltron had never been a humble man, so the last thing he expected was for Alenath to slide into the seat beside him and turn to address the next man over. Even under this poor lighting and in disguise, it was an inconceivable mistake. That mop of hair belonged in the stables alongside a bantha or two, not in a tavern. He certainly couldn't be considered handsome.

Not even on his best day—if he'd ever even had one until tonight. Being approached by an attractive stranger was probably a first for him, possibly even the pinnacle of his sad and miserable life. Another man might have grappled with the guilt of crushing his hopes and dreams before they had taken shape, but not Cassian.

He leaned over and tapped the Onderonian woman on the shoulder. "I believe you were looking for me," he grumbled irritably. @Cybrexian