Ask Nar Shaddaa Just Two Buff Boys Loitering

[Veles]

.

Nar Shaddaa
0516 local time

Sweat still dripped off his body and onto the padded durasteel floor below. Cin didn't care, instead focusing on the cigarette he was smoking, taking hungry puffs after good hours without that lovely chemical. As the bitterness coursed down his throat and he felt satisfaction, he sighed. The Sith looked down at the world below, at that empty space between all the levels where you can see the traffic below and the other places going about their business. He didn't want to think about what was going on in the lower levels, the ones down there below shrouded in darkness, the ones that were eerily quiet, even though they were supposed to be the loudest. AMS had torn through Hutt space. The news really didn't do it justice.

"Hey, uh... Good fight, brother." A voice came out from behind, interrupting his train of thought. Cin looked behind and saw a chubby Kel Dor who waved at him weakly.

"Hm? Oh, thanks," he replied, startled. The man nodded and then stepped back and walked away and Cin turned around to stare at the activity below once more.

Oh, right, the fight. Or, really, fights. He'd forgotten all about them. He'd spent a good 6 hours getting beaten with jabs and hooks and dishing out incredible hits before finally getting put down by a last-minute stranger. That was fine by him, truth be told. At least he went out in style. The fight had been a good fight, and even the usually ravenous crowd nodded along and cheered for both of them, and Cin found many congratulating him. It had been a surprisingly good-natured event for an underground fistfight on Nar Shaddaa.

He didn't know what he would do next. Maybe he would finally get around to traveling to Dathomir to seek out the Empress. It would be a risky thing, but there was no way to go up besides risky endeavors, so it was about time to rip the band aid off. Oh, well. That was in a few days, maybe weeks. Now was the time to relax. He'd earned it.

@Tom

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

Theme


The bacta that Laeonas was given following the fight was put at an exorbitant premium by the local boss. He'd half considered doing without it, but the throbbing pain in his face made it impossible to so much as think. Granted, with what he'd chosen to do for the past few hours, he hadn't really needed to.

The first hour of victory celebrations had turned into yet another competition-- a drinking one. People would step up to see if they could handle the galaxy's most exotic drinks better than the man who'd beaten the master of the ring. They'd predictably lose, but that was better for them in the long run-- it was Laeonas' liver that would pay the price, after all. That had been all well and good, and he could've spent the rest of the night doing that.

But eventually he'd been pulled off by a scantily glad Mirialan boy with the crane of a finger, and he'd been introduced to some very, very nice folks. They gave him spice, complimented his earrings, and were all and all quite... friendly. Yes, friendly was the word. He really couldn't remember much else between them. Suffice to say, he was sweating a lot by the end of it.

After getting dressed again, the next few hours were simply spent on the dance floor. It just so happened that the DJ willingly took suggestions, and after giving about two dozen in a quick, spice addled succession, he was very much pleased to see that the man took half of them. For the next hour he danced like he'd never danced before, already insane moves further augmented by how stoned out of his mind he really was. It seemed that the rest of the club appreciated his tastes-- unsurprising, considering near all he'd listened two were classics out here, other than the 80's ABY synthwave pop he listened to.

He'd managed to have the time of his life, on a world where 97% of all life had been reduced to feralized, flesh eating corpses. Stumbling out onto a balcony, he'd simply make his way to the edge, humming a song that had been blasting inside. "Just a steel town girl on a Saturday night, lookin' fer tha taime of 'er laife..." He'd go on, still dancing as he moved. He failed to notice the other man-- his opponent, even as he stood just a few feet from him. "...it can cut ya laike a knife, if tha gift becomes tha fire, on a wire 'tween what will and what will be!"

Headbanging, the man stepped back from the balcony, moving his hips in time with the beat. For a man who was stoned, drunk, and still recovering from a concussion, he danced fairly well. "She's a maniac, maniac, on tha floor!" His singing... needed work, but there was a good base... he just happened to be quite out of tune.

"And she's dancin' laike she's never danced befoooooore!" He finally cried, before falling backwards onto a bench. Blinking, he'd finally spot his opponent-- and give him a little wave.

"Ayy~"

​

@vamp

 

[Veles]

He could hear the man before he saw him, and Cin did not even turn around to glance at him at first, the lyrics he loudly screamed echoing in the bustling level they were on. When he did at last shift his head to look over his shoulder, recognition struck him like lightning. That was him. That was the stranger that had managed to put him down, whether it had been through a stroke of luck or just Cinere's weariness getting the better of him. He stretched his shoulders and turned his entire body, hissing as pain shot through every damn muscle in his body. Bruises rippled across his skin, sending his nerves into oblivion from the sheer amount of sensation--none of it pleasing.

"Well, hello," he began, lifting a hand in greeting only to regret it once more. "I would buy you a drink but I think you're pretty set on that front."

He left the railing and stepped toward the man, his movements slow and small in an attempt to preserve what energy he had left and to prevent him from doubling over in pain. Cinere was still terribly sober so there was nothing to numb it, not even bacta. He was raw-dogging it like a real Sith, and he was hating every moment of it.

The Champion who was not quite a champion tonight sat down on the bench beside his former opponent and let out a deep exhale, thankful that he had finally managed to get to his destination. He shifted his body ever so slightly to the left so that he was not facing away from him.

"Good fight." He pondered the next thing to say, and then his face broke out into a stupid grin. "Mean fucking hooks."

Thank the Galaxy he still had his teeth.

@Tom

 

[Laeonas Tannaras]

​

A chuckle was belted out in response to his former opponent's opening line, a distinctive grin slipping across his lips. He was drunk-- the other man knew it, and Laeonas himself certainly did. "Spent tha last 'our makin' sure of th'at." He teased, sitting up a little on his bench. That eccentric freak that had hopped in had been playful from the start, but now he seemed to be having the time of his life.

Even as drunk as he was, his mind still drew him towards Cinere's movements. He was slow, deliberate-- like the gout ridden old men he'd meet in bars back home. He himself only moved like that when soreness was tearing through him, usually after a day in the gym. The compliments only brought Laeonas further amusement, and he'd casually flex one of his biceps as a joke. "When ya grow up gettin' tossed or doin' tha tossin', th'at comes in 'andy." He purred, finally sitting up properly.

The two would look at each other, wide, stupid grins plastered on both faces. The similarities between them both was uncanny; two pale, dark haired men with tall, lean physiques. The galaxy was such a wide open space, and yet two force wielders who'd looked remarkably similar to each other had managed to hop into the same ring. Such was the force's tendency to toss people together for, seemingly, the hell of it. "Though, we both chose ta 'op in." He thought, scratching at his chin.

"Yer not to shabby yerself; Ai don't think Ai'll be walkin' right fer a few days." He replied, head rolling to the side and than back up. "Ai'm more impressed by what ya managed ta do without tossin' a punch though." He'd whisper, and with a simple hand gesture, a chair would skid across the ground and prop itself up under his extended legs, letting his feet rest on them. That cheeky grin he'd had only widened further, and he was now belting out a full on belly laugh.

@vamp