Miha Archan
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Sep 17, 2019
- Messages
- 29
- Reaction score
- 3
The Morod Cantina was empty save for Mihal’ii and the bartender. They chatted idly of battles fought and won, the sights they’d seen, and the battle raging outside. The boom of a far off detonation was accompanied by the click of two ice cubes melting into a thimble full Raava, as Miha finished the bowl of noodles he'd ordered with the dark liquor. “Well,” said the Bartender, his wary eyes drifting to the boarded windows, “I’m thinking it’s last call now, there anything you want?”
Miha’s eyes scanned the shelves in front of him, before his eyes settled on a jar of dried plant cuttings, “Aye, I think it’s about time I head out. A cup of Ajash, if it’s no bother.”
“None to me,” replied the Bartender, picking the jar off the shelf and picking the brittle leaves from the stems.
“Could you save me the stems too? I might not be back here for a while, it’d be nice to have a souvenir.”
With a shrug, the bartender flicked the stem over the counter, where Miha snatched it from the air. Slipping his short scabbard from his sash, he began working to secure the skinny little thing to his scabbard with a tattered piece of string. By the time it was tied down next to the rest of his keepsakes, the bartender had finished preparing the tea which he slid towards Miha. Ajash Tea was a funny thing, as black as ink with a smell of carbon, and yet as sweet as honey on the tongue. It’s a shame it’s such a rarity outside of Mandalor, thought Miha. The pair sat in silence as he finished his tea, until Miha asked the first uncomfortable question of the evening:
“You think this is the end for the Mandalorians?”
“So says the writing on the wall… but I don’t go by what the writing on the wall says.”
With a chuckle, Miha replied, “Good answer. You got any idea what’s gonna happen next?”
It was the Bartender’s turn to laugh now, “Buddy, even I don’t got a mind that inhumane.”
“Well, are you ready for what comes next?”
“As I’ll ever be, if the Emperor shows up in my bar? I’ll throw ‘em through the damn window, won’t even think about it.”
The two laughed together this time, as Miha slipped his scabbard back into his belt and stood up from the bar. “Thank you for the tea, you’ll need to let me serve you next time we meet.”
“I’ll hold you to that, now get out of here, won’t stay this peaceful for long.”
With a nod of agreement, Miha headed towards the door, plucking a cigarra from behind his ear and lighting it as he stepped through. He breathed out a billow of smoke from his nose, stretching in the afternoon sun that bathed the broad crossroads he stood in. His ship wasn’t far off from here, and while there were pockets of fighting between there and here, it shouldn’t be too much to handle. As far as he was concerned, he had a little time to kill before things had to get bloody, so he stood in the warming daylight and savoured the taste of the smoke. However, only a scant few drags into the smouldering cigarra, the sound of footsteps slapping on cobles echoed through the crossroad. He pinched the filter between his lips as he turned to face the source of the sound, his hand resting against the pommel of his sword.
Miha’s eyes scanned the shelves in front of him, before his eyes settled on a jar of dried plant cuttings, “Aye, I think it’s about time I head out. A cup of Ajash, if it’s no bother.”
“None to me,” replied the Bartender, picking the jar off the shelf and picking the brittle leaves from the stems.
“Could you save me the stems too? I might not be back here for a while, it’d be nice to have a souvenir.”
With a shrug, the bartender flicked the stem over the counter, where Miha snatched it from the air. Slipping his short scabbard from his sash, he began working to secure the skinny little thing to his scabbard with a tattered piece of string. By the time it was tied down next to the rest of his keepsakes, the bartender had finished preparing the tea which he slid towards Miha. Ajash Tea was a funny thing, as black as ink with a smell of carbon, and yet as sweet as honey on the tongue. It’s a shame it’s such a rarity outside of Mandalor, thought Miha. The pair sat in silence as he finished his tea, until Miha asked the first uncomfortable question of the evening:
“You think this is the end for the Mandalorians?”
“So says the writing on the wall… but I don’t go by what the writing on the wall says.”
With a chuckle, Miha replied, “Good answer. You got any idea what’s gonna happen next?”
It was the Bartender’s turn to laugh now, “Buddy, even I don’t got a mind that inhumane.”
“Well, are you ready for what comes next?”
“As I’ll ever be, if the Emperor shows up in my bar? I’ll throw ‘em through the damn window, won’t even think about it.”
The two laughed together this time, as Miha slipped his scabbard back into his belt and stood up from the bar. “Thank you for the tea, you’ll need to let me serve you next time we meet.”
“I’ll hold you to that, now get out of here, won’t stay this peaceful for long.”
With a nod of agreement, Miha headed towards the door, plucking a cigarra from behind his ear and lighting it as he stepped through. He breathed out a billow of smoke from his nose, stretching in the afternoon sun that bathed the broad crossroads he stood in. His ship wasn’t far off from here, and while there were pockets of fighting between there and here, it shouldn’t be too much to handle. As far as he was concerned, he had a little time to kill before things had to get bloody, so he stood in the warming daylight and savoured the taste of the smoke. However, only a scant few drags into the smouldering cigarra, the sound of footsteps slapping on cobles echoed through the crossroad. He pinched the filter between his lips as he turned to face the source of the sound, his hand resting against the pommel of his sword.