Open Tatooine Downtime.

[Halan]

Location: Mos Espa, Belching Frog Saloon

Things never seemed to change in some parts of Tatooine, at least not on the surface. Mos Espa was much the same as it has always been to the casual onlooker. A nest of criminals, the destitute and desperate, rubbing shoulders with the cruel and the avaricious. Yet to those who knew to look beneath the surface, another story was to be told. Bringing his speeder to a halt, Halan stepped out and tossed a few credits to the waiting Jawa scavengers. Any local knew it was best to pay the Jawa to leave you alone than to think it beneath you and return to a speeder minus its coolant drive.

He'd come into town to check the predicted water-monger prices for the next cycle and to collect a new filter for one of his vaporators. Locally, the nearest supply station was raided last week, and new filters seemed even harder to come by.

It was one of the many small things that, when added together, seemed to show that Tatooine was slipping into another stage of its shared story. Halan had lived here all his life, through independence, the Consortium and the Cartel lording it over the world. But it seemed that Tatooine was again treated as the stomping ground of criminals, corporations and offworlders. Personally, he had never seen such a shortage of filters; it posed a serious threat to the water supply, and yet nobody seemed to care.

Of course, the Hutts didn't care.

The Consortium didn't seem to do much when they had been here either, their shortlived Governor had been moe focused on rearming a militia than helping the locals. Not that Government 'help' was ever of much use, the Free World Alliance and the New Republic (from what Halan had seen on the feeds) have tried that, and look where that had left them. No - Halan and others like him could look after themselves.

"Eh." he shrugged, looking up at the worn-looking sign of the Belching Frog Saloon, one of few left open in Mos Espa these days "Might as well." he walked inside, passing by a tired-looking bouncer without issue; after all, he was unarmed; all he had was a utility belt over his tunic and robe, with a hydro spanner and a fusion cutter, which he needed to show the guard when it set off the metal scanner. He was waved inside and headed up to the bar, leaning against it as he waved the barman over and ordered a drink.

Looking around, he wondered if the 'Boss' was in - it would be good to see if he could have a chat to the local Cartel enforcer about some of the more pressing matters facing his community, just outside of Mos Espa.

OOC - Tagging @Darasuum @Sreeya for sand, and @Eccles for sand.

 

[Brok Berrin]

Spoiler: Music

The unsteady growl of a rusty GoTech landspeeder. heralded the arrival of the moisture farmers from Anchorhead. It was economical for them to travel together and relatively safer as well. Brok felt more comfortable with Halan around. Next to his old man, Halan was the toughest moisture farmer he knew.

The Rodian took a deep breath of the hot dry air of Tatooine as they came to a stop. His habit of measuring the air to check it for moisture was like a plant farmer touching the soil. But it was drier in this area of the planet so he was glad to have his family's homestead in a far more ideal location.

Brok took a swig of his canteen to quench his chronic thirst and to prepare for the inevitable libations he would consume. They had arrived at the Belching Frog Saloon afterall and the young Rodian was keen to wet his whistle. Sure, Brok was here to check the watermonger prices, do a little shopping and run some errands as well but he was not in a rush. It was not like there was much of a hurry around these parts and aside from a hand of cards he was not likely to see any excitement for the day or even the week.

Like Halan, Brok was checked for weapons at the door but unlike his companion he was armed with a concealed holdout blaster. This was thankfully hidden in a way that the metal detector mistook one of the other objects on the teenager's figure. The commlink and fusion cutter were given a second glance but the bouncer let the moisture farmers through all the same. It helped that Brok had a half-way decent poker face because his heart was beating faster than normal until they got properly inside the saloon.

"Want to get a drink first...err?" Brok's large dark eyes looked towards the bar. As an after thought he scanned the rest of the room looking for other Rodians, or rather a particular Rodian. Chances were Halan was doing the same if his gaze was anything to go by. For Brok he was more interested in getting the gunslinger's autograph or a holo-pic taken with the Zaa Fenn boss. But something was making the older moisture farmer as serious as usual or perhaps even more so than normal.

@Nor'baal @Sreeya @Eccles for sand

Spoiler: Dice

Rolled dice to see if Brok could successfully sneak in his EC-17 holdout blaster.
Success: 85/100

 

[Halan]

"Sure thing," Halan replied. He'd known Brok since the youngster was born and his parents before then. Indeed, they'd been schooled together, Broks grandparents and Halans mother and father taking turns educating their kids in the ways of Tatooine. He knew that the boy wasn't old enough to drink, but he also knew nobody cared on Tatooine.

Halan wasn't even sure there was a drinking age here.

After a few moments, the barman came over, a droid with one of its arms hastily reattached with surgical tape; OO-E33 was its designation. It had been working this joint for a few days, and Halan doubted it would last a few more. "Spotchka." he signalled for two glasses alongside the drink, which was swiftly placed in front of them.

"Six credits," OO-E33 replied.

Spotchka was the cheapest drink on offer. It was little more than a malt brewed in a metal container and sweetened with whatever the brewer could find. It was cheap and cheerful - two things that went down well in the Outer Rim, and therefore made it one of the most popular drinks in the region.

"Cheers." he poured two glasses, and drank from his own.

As they waited, Halan spoke to Brok come more about the reason he had decided to come here. "Hopefully, we can speak to Callo or one of his guys. We've had two raids on our farm in as many weeks, no sign of the Cartel enforcers putting them down - despite the protection we kick up to them." he began.

"And I hear its been happening all across the flats. Supply stations, farms and transports getting lit up by Tuskens, and swoop gangers, more and more. What have you seen?" he asked the young Rodian.

 

[Brok Berrin]

The Rodian gave a trunk-faced smile at Halan's response. This pleased expression continued as the older moisture farmer ordered for the two of them. Brok was young and liked to think he was tough but he still liked the sweet drinks more than the bitter ones. He put down a few credits to pay for his drink with only a slight delay.

Taking his own glass, Brok toasted to their safe traversal of the sandy planet and took a big sip to savor his drink. The teenager let out a satisfied 'ah' like it was life saving water. It had been days since he last played cards or drank anything other than his old man's stash of vaschean rye. He wondered briefly how expensive it waste to make booze on Tatooine.

Before Brok could delve too much into his own thoughts his attention was drawn again to Halan. "Really?" He did not hide his look of surprise. He had heard about the first raid but the second was news. But the man was a badass because he seemed to glaze over the defense of his property like it was nothing. It gave the young Rodian an idea of how serious the situation was.

Brok looked off into the middle distance as he thought back. "We haven't been hit...yet." He gulped and got a bad feeling after a moment's hesitation. "I've heard of it happening. I saw some carbon scoring on a Jawa crawler that stopped by a few rotations back. Like something heavy had hit it. Not just yer' regular ol' cycler rifles or blasters I'd reckon." He shrugged but there was admitted concern in his voice. It was just a matter of time before danger came knocking at the Berrin family homestead.

"What do you think they'll do, Callo or his men?" The gambler had heard Callo traveled with Mandalorians and was one himself. "I mean, is it going to even change anything in the long run?" Brok asked in typical pessimistic teen fashion. It was one thing or another leaching off of the moisture farmers' hard work. However the youth did not have much in terms of alternatives to suggest at the moment. Brok was not sure what to expect from the Five Syndicates and took another sip of his spotchka.