New Prospectives (Pre-DotR)

[Vosrik]

The moment the pretty girl shouted, "BAR FIGHT," the entire canteen exploded in a roiling mass of tossed glasses, chairs, and bodies as the patrons eagerly went at each other's throats. Davian had a moment to think, Have they all wanted to fight this badly? before he saw something heading his direction.
The thrown glass rebounded off the center of his head, forcing Davian instantly down onto one knee as he clutched his head and moaned in pain. What did he do to deserve this? Why? By the stars, why? He just wanted to have a nice, relaxing evening. Is that more than a guy could ask?
People began stumbling and tripping over Davian, so he slowly got up while leaning on a nearby table for support. The lights made his head hurt, but he could hold quite a bit of liquor so the room wasn't spinning despite the two drinks he had earlier. He made his best effort to look around in search of Magnus, but Davian couldn't find him anymore in the bar for some reason. Confused, the merchant ambled through the brawlers, avoiding the occasional fist or foot as he made his way to where Magnus was last standing. It should be pretty difficult to hide someone so tall in a crowd.
Suddenly seeing Nova, Davian just decided to ask what had happened when a Rodian and chunks of the ceiling crashed right on top of him, knocking over a table in the process and spilling drinks all over his jacket.

NOW he was pissed.

Swearing incessantly as he pushed the alien aside and pulling himself to his feet (again), Davian reached and grabbed the front of Nova's robes, shaking him furiously and ignoring the stool the Arkanian was wielding. "LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO MY JACKET!" Davian cried as he punctuated each word with a shake. "Tell me what you did with Magnus, did you shove him through the roof too?" Talking made his temples throb even worse. He just wanted his bed now.

 

[Shalken]

As Magnus tumbled forward, his would-be victim had ducked just at the right moment. Stumbling over the crouched figure, Magnus crashed to the floor, taking out some other customers along with him. The sound of the brawl happening everywhere around him was deafening; the only thing he heard was a loud crash and an even louder metallic screeching noise. Sitting up, he turned to see Nova holding one of the bar stools while being shaken furiously by his new employer.

Wait a minute, those chairs were bolted to the floor, right? Jeez, this Padawan guy must be stronger than he looks. He must have done something to piss off Davian, because the merchant was shaking Rigil like a rag doll.

Or rather, a rag doll armed with a makeshift club.

Fearing for his job (he'd be fired for sure if he didn't help Davian right now), Magnus valiantly attempted to stand up; however, the slick liquid-coated tile had other plans in store for him. In a desperate attempt to halt the sudden assault from the bar floor, he reaching for anything to get a grip on. Luckily, he managed to latch onto one of Nova's legs. Hanging on for dear life, he challenged sluggishly, "Ey, buddy! Fight some'un your own size!"

 

[Halcyon]

~ Theme Song ~​

"Not now Prince," Nova said to Davian - was it Prince? Yeah, that sounded about right - while eagerly looking over the human's shoulders for signs of any patron that he could smack with his trusted stool-club. "Can't you see I'm busy here?"

When Davian began to vigorously shake him, the Arkanian Offshoot almost slipped on the wet floor - who, in the name of the Force, spilled all those drinks? Nova had to redirect his full attention towards his legs to prevent himself from falling and from dragging the businessman along with him, since he was holding onto Davian's forearm with one hand now. Were those stains, he saw on his suit, or had Prince changed it to that of a brownish leopard? Rich people and their weird tastes!

Wait a moment! He was supposed to be resentful of the human.

Nova flung the stool away - it was getting hard to hold on to it anyway with just one hand - and it hit some swollen green fish-eyed alien or whatever, that seemed to be getting up. The creature fell flat on the ground again.

"Why did you leave without saying goodbye, man?" he asked Prince, holding him by the shoulders and shaking him zealously. "I thought we were friends!" Nova was pretty shrewd even when drunk. Who would have thought of masquerading the need to hold on to something, for fear of losing his balance, using his annoyed state as an excuse to do so? Nova thought himself really clever for coming up with that ruse.

He then noticed the bruise on Davian's forehead from where the fairy cup had hit him. He giggled. Something got a hold of his leg. It pulled him down. Nova saw the ceiling entering his field of vision.

"Oooooooh," he said, while falling down, looking at the spotlights hanging from said ceiling, "so many pretty colors!"

The Padawan was still holding onto Davian when he was tripped.

 

[Galavant]

The chaos of a barfight.

It was terrible, what was supposed to be the appeal? Andrena didn't understand why this was glamorized so much. Granted she'd started it, but that was before she'd realize it'd just be people fighting, and wouldn't have all the comedic overtones, and possible musical shorts, that the HoloNet made such events out to be. she'd never even been in a full on bar brawl on Nar Shaddaa. Which probably would have been a bit odd, if she'd hung out in bars more often when she was on Nar Shaddaa. Mostly she'd spent her time fixing ships, and remembered that more than anything else. Maybe there'd been a bar brawl, but she didn't remember it. It didn't seem as important as the time she'd fixed a crack in the fuel tank of an old OLR-500 freighter belonging to a very irate Ithorian fellow.

So now what?

Well she supposed she should probably go with her original plan of getting out of the place...

Everyone seemed fairly fixated on the events of the fight, and Andrena herself was crouched down near the bar, trying to stay as out of the way as humanly possible. Which wasn't exactly easy, she had to kick several people who'd gotten a little too close for comfort, but she'd managed to avoid getting dragged into the general brawl. Of course being more than a little opportunistic by nature, Andrena supposed that this was a pretty decent time to try to rob some people and the establishment. After the foul up on Anthan Prime had nearly brought her career as a petty thief to an end, she'd decided to stick with the smuggling and ship fixing professions. They were much safer.

But there were already people on the floor, knocked out or passed out. It didn't really matter to the woman who was about to attempt to rob them of every credit they had.

Still sticking close to the floor, Andrena moved at a cautious pace to each patron down on the ground. It wasn't easy, it was like one of those games where you had to get the space frog across a traffic lane on Coruscant. Only with more kicking, screaming, bodily fluids, and alchoholic fluids going everywhere. She managed to make it to a couple people, and relieve of them of whatever they had in their pockets, or easy to access skinfolds in the case of some of the more alien.

That is until she accidentally came across the metal man, and grabbed onto his leg. The metal man himself was latched onto the leg of some guy who'd just fallen, making the entire thing incredibly awkward.

"Uhhh my mistake," Andrena shouted, before trying to move off hoping he didn't notice her, or the several wallets currently in her possession.

 

[Vosrik]

If it was possible, Davian got even more confused. Why was he being called Prince? Nova must be quite drunk.
He furrowed his eyebrows as Nova began shaking him in turn with his question."I must not have seen you on my way ou--" Davian started, but couldn't finish as Magnus pulled down the Arkanian and Davian with him.

Why did he head into the canteen in the first place? Most people wouldn't run straight into a bar fight. Davian's problem was that he always got very focused on a task when he set himself to doing it; in this case, getting Magnus a business card. Hence his pain and suffering after walking back in.

Wallowing in the spilled liquor and in his own self-pity, Davian sat back up slowly and rested his face in his hands. Suddenly he heard the same girl who smote him in the face with her glass say, "Uhhh my mistake." Davian looked up with a glazed expression and saw her next to Magnus, holding what appeared to be more than a few wallets. Good thing he didn't have--
Wait, what? Magnus? He forgot everything else and exclaimed, "Blast it all, there you are Magnus!" Davian fumbled around under his jacket, pulling out a handful of fancy burgundy-and-white business cards with the PriceCorp symbol across them. Crawling over, he shoved the lot into Magnus' face and hands.
He managed to get up off the sticky floor and stood resolutely. "Magnus and Nova, have an excellent night." Spinning in place, Davian exhaled deeply and strode towards the exit.
He ran a sticky hand through his hair.
He was so done with today.

 

[Shalken]

Magnus slipped on the floor, releasing his grip on the Padawan's leg. Trying to regain his balance, he started to get up.

That is, until a drunk Padawan and a confused merchant landed directly on top of him, knocking the wind out of his chest.

Accepting defeat, Magnus just lied on the floor, trying to get the room to stop spinning. He heard people talking all around him, but he didn't really care at this point. Someone grabbed his leg, but he was stuck, so Magnus couldn't even look around to see who it was.

Right as Magnus thought it was a good time to get up, someone shoved credits in his face! He had won after all! Feeling good about himself, he gathered up his 'winnings' into his pocket as he rolled out from under Nova. Fumbling around for something steady, his hand grasped a nearby stool. He slowly pulled himself up from the floor. Clutching his makeshift crutch, he held out a free hand to his former combatant. "I'd say we're even, eh?"

 

[Halcyon]

Seven years on Coruscant.

Seven bloody years and the only thing he had to show for himself was a working lightsaber, some plain dark robes, and a fancy hipster braid.

Aside from escorting politicians around, which ultimately turned Nova into an overall decent pilot and outstanding floor mat, he did little more than meditate day in and day out. Nova Rigil wholeheartedly believed that if not for his unique implementation of physical activities - such as archery - into his meditation routine, his body would have shriveled up like a crumpled piece of old paper, tossed by the Council to the trash can of the Core Worlds - Coruscant.

Queen of the Core; what a pitiful cesspool it was!

Not that Nova ever visited such places as Nar Shaddaa but he was sure that those paled in comparison to the true nature lurking beneath Coruscant's skin. At least on the Outer Rim or on Hutt Space worlds were pure of intent. Coruscant, however, was nothing more than a harlot in disguise. Such profane energies gently nestled beneath the radiant sun-bathed upper levels. Such feigned hypocrisy. Such callous egotism of the over-indulged.

People dying from war, hunger, and sickness on the other side of the Core, and there he was - a Jedi. Unable to provide for his own family.

Upholder of truth and peace; provided those furnished the interests of the few.

Caught in the middle of a lawless bar fight; surprising even himself, the Padawan was more sober than he would like to be at that junction.

Getting up?

Why bother?


Seven years on Coruscant, twenty three on the Galaxy, never once had his lips tasted Ardees before. Tonight, had to be the night.

Why bother?

.
.
.
Davian's farewell, pulled Rigil out into the real world. He waved to the man who obviously cared a big deal for his leopard business suit.

A tin mountain beneath Nova gently pushed him aside; as gently as a truck could. Magnus offered Nova his metallic hand.

Get up?

.
.
.
Why the hell not?


"Nah," the Offshoot said while stretching his right hand to meet Magnus'; his head still ached but at least the room seemed to have given up on rotating, "you've won." The Padawan accepted the Axumite's kind offer and amnesty.

"Turns out you're right," he let out as he got up with Valen's help and proceeded to dust off his robes, "it took me a while to realize, but I finally see the Farce for what it is."

 

[Shalken]

Feeling good about himself, Magnus held on tight as he pulled Nova to his feet. Releasing his grip on the Padawan, Magnus decided that holding onto the stool would probably be in his best interest. Falling down again really didn't seem very appealing.

Drunk as he was, Magnus was stunned to hear Rigil concede the argument about the Farce. He blinked several times to collect his muddled thoughts. Why would a Jedi, who lived, practiced, and studied the Force every day, give up their entire lifestyle? Why, Magnus hadn't even put out a real argument yet. He shook his head. Maybe he'd just knocked some sense into the poor fellow? Yeah, that must be it.

Magnus reached out with his free hand and gently grasped Nova's shoulder, peering into the Padawan's eyes. "Well, bud, I'm sure you'll figure it all out someday. Le's call it a night, sleep this stuff off."

With that, he courageously let go of the chair and slowly made his way through the mess, carefully stepping over a bloated scaly body as he made his way towards the door. As he reached the exit, he turned toward Nova one last time, giving the best salute a drunken cyborg could. "I'll see ya 'round sometime, Nova. Take care o' yerself, now."

Magnus shuffled off into the night, wondering where the closest bloody hotel could possibly be.