Ask The Family Jewels

[Crix Dolan]

Royal Palace
Iziz || Onderon

Crow wasn’t sure why he was being escorted by two Onderonian fighters to the Royal Palace, but when two starfighters armed to the teeth with weapons primed asked him to do something he normally did.

“BeeGee, have we pulled any jobs in the sector recently?”

Truth be told, The Smuggler had fallen off the bandwagon and was feigning for a drink. He hated how much he depended on drink to get him through each day, but it wasn’t like he had anyone to hold him accountable. He let BeeGee take over flying and settled into the booth in The Blackbird’s lounge. He poured himself a glass of Dantooine Cognac and added a large ice cube.

From the lounge, he could hear the Starfighter’s barking orders at BeeGee, but the little droid was an expert at ignoring anyone it wanted to. As a matter of fact, the little droid hadn’t had a memory wipe since Crow had nearly been killed in his initial conflict with the Empire. At this point, BeeGee was as much of a free thinker as Crow was. Crow took a sip of his Cognac and then lit a cigarette. The last time he’d been incarcerated they hadn’t let him keep his ratty pack of cigarettes and he couldn’t think of a more inhumane punishment.

The Blackbird set down in a field behind the palace and from his limited vantage point, he could see a couple of armed goons, or Knights he supposed, trotting toward The Blackbird’s boarding ramp. Crow blew out a mouthful of smoke and stood. He wore his usual gear, minus his helmet. He caught his reflection in the mirror and for just a second he saw a glimmer of the man he used to be, but that second passed and all that was left looking back was Crow.

BeeGee twittered behind him, and Crow said, “Why don’t you hang back here bud?”

The little droid bristled, obviously irritated at being left on the ship, but to Crow’s surprise the little BG astromech gave up without much of a fight. Satisfied he took a deep breath and prepared for the oncoming violence.

The Knight’s stripped him of his weapons under some bull shit pretense that he was dangerous when he’d done nothing but comply with their demands. Then one shoved him from behind a bit too hard and sent Crow’s PTSD over the edge. He knew he was going to get roughed up. People in positions of authority rarely stuck to the rules they enforced. Against his better judgment, he lunged for the jerk. He got a few good licks in before they stunned him.

As he came too, Crow was surprised to find he wasn’t in a cell. Instead, he was sitting in a plush chair and a medical droid was attending to his busted lip. He could feel he was covered in fresh bruises. His throat felt raw which meant he’d been screaming, but other than a few bumps and scrapes he wasn’t terribly uncomfortable.

Crow’s eyes seemed to finally focus as he looked around the room, where in the hell was he?

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

"He's beginning to stir, your highness," the medical droid spoke in a regulated voice.

The princess turned as soon as its voice broke the silence. There was no eutony in the sound of its voice or the way it spoke—Reyna dad a disliking for droids, personally, so cold and impersonal—but its words were just what she'd been waiting to hear. Poised by a pair of French doors that led out into the garden, manicured nails gripping the white drapery that hung over the glass, she studied the man sprawled across the sofa.

A fire roared in the hearth of the fireplace, the heat from its amber flames more than sufficient enough to ward off the cold current that had swept through the room after the doors had been thrown up and the Royal Guards drug the smuggler in. They were in a sitting room on the first floor—one of the palace's many—with luxurious, resin sofas with velvet seat cushions and oil pastel paintings on each wall.

On the pearl coffee table in front of him sat a silver tray with a fresh pot of tea and an aquamarine glass bottle. Vintage Abrax. A cognac with a spicy vapor, according to Cassian. Reyna wouldn't know, as she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. Cassian had drunk enough for the two of them.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Mister Dolan," she said in an even voice, crossing the room. It wasn't as if he had been given a choice once his HWK-290 Light Freighter had been spotted in Onderon space. "I must apologize for your escort." She referred, of course, to the bruises he had sustained from the guards. "I gave them orders to be gentle with you, but I'm afraid we've all been on edge ever since the Sith attacked." She dipped her head, sitting down next to him on the sofa, a respectable distance between them.

She wore a floor-length navy dress, with sheer lace fabric along the collarbone, shoulders, and arms. "Might I offer you some refreshment?" A dark, slender hand gestured to the silver tray. She hoped he would pick the tea, but she had a feeling he'd prefer the cognac. She had smelled it on his breath the moment the guards deposited him on the couch. @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow would have jumped at the sound of the woman’s voice had a medical droid not been hovering inches from his face. From his obstructed view he could see a woman crossing the room. She radiated poise and grace, but there was something dangerous in her eyes. Crow had plenty of experience with dangerous women, but this one set him on edge. He sat up a little straighter on the sofa and felt his jaw tense.

Crow took in his surroundings, sizing up the space, scanning for a way out, and finally looking for an opportunity.

“This will hurt,” said the droid. Before Crow could respond it cauterized his lip. The Smuggler sucked in a hiss of breath as he fought back the slew of slurs ready to tumble from his lip. The smell of burnt flesh and singed hair let him know the deed was done. Crow rubbed at his bearded chin tentatively touching the new scar on his lower lip.

Crow realized he was missing his jacket. He’d been dropped on the sofa in his tunic, trousers, and boots. They’d taken everything else. The woman’s voice brought him out of his growing panic.

“Yeah, sure,” he managed in response. She’d just called him by his name. She’d dragged him here and was gloating about it? He didn’t like this at all. All of his experience was screaming how screwed he was right now, but on the outside his face was impassive. Blasé. Bored. As soon as he’d heard her tempered tone he knew she was someone who enjoyed control. She liked having the edge and that meant everything moving forward would be some form of evaluation.

“Thanks,” he replied to her shallow apology. It was clear she was pointing these things out to remind him what she was capable of. A little crude in his opinion, but he was allergic to being punched in the face.

“Sith attacks have a way of doing that,” he retorted knowingly. Afterall, if she knew his name she had to of known he was from Denon. The Sith had taken the planet violently, then the FWA violently took it back. Subjugation to liberation at the low low cost of thousands of lives.

The Smuggler watched her carefully as she sat. He found he didn’t have much to say to his captor. An awkward silence filled the space between them it’s only accompaniment was the soft undulating hum of the small repulsor engine suspending the medical droid.

"Might I offer you some refreshment?”

Crow followed her gesturing hand and spotted the table for the first time. His eyes locked on to the Cognac and a small repetitive mantra began to replay on a loop in his mind, “A drink, a drink, a drink drink drink!” but he knew that was a trap. He looked at the tea and frowned he'd be damned before he drank leaf water. So, he decided to go thirsty.

“Uh, no thanks,” he responded.

The awkward silence returned as if they were both trying to figure out who should talk first. Crow took the initiative, "Can we just jump to the part where you tell me who you are and what you want?"

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

The princess’ penitence fell on deaf ears, and the smuggler’s closed mind reduced any explanation she might give to futility. He didn’t trust her. She could see it in his blue eyes, darting across the room—looking for a way to escape, as if he were a cornered animal and she the dreaded hunter.

Not that she could blame him. In his line of work, smuggling and… whatever else he did, trust wasn’t a luxury he could afford. And after the way her guards had handled him, despite her instructions… Staring at his cauterized lip, dried blood around the corners of his mouth, a tightness settled in her chest, but she stood it unruffled and showed no signs of emotion.

This was not how she had expected their meeting to go. He was straightforward, at least. That was rare these days, particularly in her own social circle. Politicians. Royalty. Socialites. They all wanted something, but none of them had the nerve to come right out and say it. Instead, they played games. They said just the right things, did just the right things, regardless of if they meant it or not. Ulterior motives lurked behind every kind word and every gentle touch.

The least she could do was not keep him in suspense. ”The Crown Jewels of Onderon have been missing for over a thousand years,” she began, gaze unwavering as it met his. There had been rumors, leads—a black market sale on Coruscant, a nobleman on Serenno that kept the jewels locked away in his private collection, and a thousand others. For generations, the royal family had followed every rumor, tracked down every lead. All had fizzled and died. Reyna wanted to be the Vernize that changed that. That put a stop to the search.
”I’ve heard you know where they are.” @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow licked the cauterized wound on his lip. That strange numb absence of feeling always drove him nuts. He hoped the medical droid hadn’t killed a nerve. Then to his surprise, she got to the point. The mention of the Royal Jewels bought back an unpleasant memory of a botched job with an aggressive Toganath. He’d never lost interest in the treasure hunt and when he wasn’t plastered, smuggling, or shooting, he was researching the jewels.

“A thousand years, get out of town,” he retorted crossing his legs and leaning back into the plush sofa. Their eyes met and he didn’t shy away. Her gaze was as fierce as his was cynical. He wondered what she had to prove. That’s when her identity clicked in his mind. To his credit, Crow kept any sign of shock off his face. He decided to play it dumb, and see if she’d confirm his suspicion.

“Oh yeah?” he replied draping his arms across the backrest of the sofa. “You gonna rough me up for the information or are going to make a deal?”

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

A deal. Crix Dolan’s manner of speech was crass, his deportment blasé, and the princess was pleasantly surprised to find that he had yet to mutter an obscenity. Inclined on the tight back sofa with the confidence of a sovereign ruler rather than the smuggler with a fat lip that he was, he stared at her with cynicism in his eyes. This was a man that was disillusioned with the galaxy and disenchanted by the people in it, she decided.

Dark eyes followed his arms, stretched across the sofa’s wooden onlay, either to impress upon her his belief that he called the tunes or to intimidate her. The scent of cognac, inexpensive cologne, and sweat wafted stronger, but she said nothing. As worldly-wise as he might have been, as blasé as he acted, this must have been an entirely new experience for him. Alone in a palace sitting beside a princess. It certainly was new for her.

A single hand reached out for the tea pot, and she poured herself a cup. Stirring in a single cube of sugar, she stared at him. ”I would like to come to an agreement, yes,” she spoke clearly, ”I am prepared to pay you for your services. Quite handsomely.” She sipped her tea and stared at him over the rim of the cup.
Credits. That he would understand. @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow never took his eyes off her. The Princess of Onderon was doing well, she barely flinched away from the sight of his common disposition, it was almost like she was trying to treat him with respect. Nah, don’t be stupid. The scent of her perfume caught his attention and to his annoyance it was delightful.

As she spoke a grin as wry as whiskey spread across his face, “A deal huh?”

Crow cocked an eyebrow and shifted toward her on the sofa. “Not quite a queen’s ransom though, huh?” he teased.

The Princess of Onderon seemed to forget the importance of introductions, but that was fine, he got the distinct feeling she didn’t do a lot of cloak-and-dagger stuff, which meant there was most likely an opportunity to make up for his dismal treatment upon arrival.

“Let me guess, you want me to risk my life and limb to retrieve your precious baubles.”

Crow patted his shirt pocket and sighed as he found his cigarettes were missing. His eyes slipped back to the cognac and that nagging tune desire drummed it’s melodic need against the back of his eyes. The pinched the bridge of his nose, forcing the need back.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you Princess, I’m not sure I’m interested in your job,” he let it sink in that he knew who she was and that this might not go the way she wanted. He needed to keep her off-balance if he expected to make it out of here richer than he’d been dragged in.

“That is unless you’re looking to make me a Prince,” he said behind a sabacc player’s veneer.

Crow burst out laughing as the conflagration of emotion danced across her beautiful features. He held up his hands in mock surrender saying, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Blame your rough-handed guards.”

While she was off-guard he moved in, “The offer on the bounty boards is 2 million and a 6000-acre land grant here on your beautiful planet,” he shrugged, “That about what you planned to offer?”

Crow wasn’t hurting for credits. He lived simply and was paid handsomely more often than most would be able to ascertain, and that meant he didn’t need to jump at the initial offer. This was business after all. Then again the initial deal was damn good. The land was what interested him more than anything. That was plenty of space to set up a base of operations, something to get Hardlight going again, or a new asset for Crimson Dawn.

“I gotta know, what’s driving you? Why do you want the Jewels? Can’t you just commission a new set?”

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

"Not necessarily," the princess replied in a steady tone, tilting her head to one side as she reached across the sofa to retrieve a reliquary style coffret. There was nothing holy about its contents. Cigarettes, which she offered to the smuggler that sat beside her. They'd been Cassian's, but her face was placid and unmoved. His pack, she realized, along with the rest of the belongings discovered on his person, sat on a side table in the hallway, where an armed guard stood watch over them.
To use his own words, "If you would prefer not to risk 'life and limb,' I will not ask you to. I seek the coordinates. The map." Whatever he had that would lead her to the jewels, whatever information he possessed. "I will pay you for that and that alone, if information is the extent of your desired involvement."

Should he take one of the cigarettes, she would add, "If it is your intention to smoke it now, might I suggest we step out onto the patio?" The half-Sephi gestured toward the French doors where she had stood minutes ago, staring out the glass pane at the gardens. She couldn't stand the smell of tobacco, as much as Cassian had subjected her to it over the years. Since her father, who of an evening leaned back in his arm chair and drew on his pipe had passed, the princess had not allowed tobacco in the palace.

The coffret returned to its proper place, Reyna turned to the topic at hand. "May I speak frankly with you, Mister Dolan?" Her dark gaze settled on his, and regardless of his answer, she would speak frankly. "I do not trust you." It wasn't personal. It was just common sense. He was a smuggler with a rap sheet, and she was a princess without so much as a parking citation. After the way her guards had treated him, he probably didn't trust her either.

"The two million credits I offer you, but in light of your past..." There she hesitated, studying him and choosing her next words carefully, as if to not offend him. "The land grant I cannot offer you." That, perhaps, was not wholly accurate. "I will not offer you. Onderon's citizens have been on the qui vive ever since the Sith invaded." Since their King and Consul had been murdered and left for display in the public square. "I cannot in good conscience offer to you, an off-worlder and a smuggler, the soil that my own citizens spend their lifetimes toiling over."

Her lips almost lifted into an amused smile, if only for his benefit. "I am afraid I am not currently in the market for a prince either." If she were, she certainly would be searching for one riding on a white horse, not sailing in a light freighter modified to ferry illicit material. @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow waved away her offer, “No thanks, not my brand.”

If she really thought he’d do all the leg work for her and reap none of the actual rewards, she was out of her damn mind. He didn’t like the way this was going. She seemed to think he was some nobody, and not an Enforcer for Crimson Dawn.

“I’d love to see the view from your balcony,” he said flatly, finally accepting something she’d offered. Crow could be infuriating when he wanted to be, and after listening to this spoiled brat prattle about for the past five minutes he decided to embrace that side of himself.

Onderon’s prized Daughter revealed the obvious, “You don’t say,” he muttered opening one of the doors and bowing in traditional Onderonian fashion as she passed through. A detail that she’d likely miss. She saw him as some chump, an outer rim smuggler who worked for chits, and that brought a smile to his face. She was looking at him now, expectation coloring her expression. Crow picked his teeth with his tongue, then said, “Too bad, we’d make a cute couple,” then blessed her with his best shit-eating grin.

"Let me see if I'm following along, you can't make good on the bounty because of your conscious? Weird, where was your conscious when your guards were beating the shit out of me earlier?" he said licking his busted lip again. Damn that spot was annoying. His temper was rising, the one karking time he's on legit work he's pulled and treated like a criminal. She'd done nothing but make demands and offer hollow comforts.

He shook his head, "I'm not giving you anything. You might be a Princess, but you've got no class and even less business sense." He turned away from her leaning on his elbows over looking the granite railing at the breathtaking view of Iziz. If she wanted those jewels she'd need to do a lot better than she was now. He glanced down at his boots and smiled. The moron's had left his jet boots on. If the Princess got jumpy, he'd bail. No sweat off his back. Losing his guns would suck though...

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

Reyna rose, the floor length navy dress she wore floating across the marble floor as she crossed the room and swung open the French doors. Sunlight flooded the room, and they were bathed in its warm, inviting rays as soon as they stepped outside onto the patio. A cool afternoon wind would tug at their hair as they stared out at the gardens, the scent of flowers in full bloom blending with the princess' perfume. Two armed guards patrolled the garden, their eyes never straying from the princess.

The smuggler and the princess had hit a brick wall. Reached an impasse. Neither of them willing to budge. Reyna because of her conscious—a concept, judging by his reaction, foreign to her guest. Dolan because of his greed. It felt unjust, boiling another human being down to that, but she knew nothing of his character other than this: that he wanted more. More than she was willing to give.

"There is no need to malign my character," the half-Sephi replied in a cool voice, fingers brushing against the petals of a white rose. He'd resulted to insults, telling her she had no class or business sense. Had she been younger, she might have let the words pierce her heart, but she was no longer a child, and far worse words had been spoken by men much dearer to her than this. Her lips almost tugged into the slightest smile. "You might think it, but there is no need to speak it aloud. A no will suffice." Besides, she could see exactly what he thought of her on his face. Her ears swiveled to the side of her head, but her face was as unreadable as ever. A blessing, particularly in her position, that she had received from her Sephi mother.
And a no was exactly what the smuggler had given her. If she could not change his mind, and it appeared that he would not and could not be budged, their business was concluded. Another dead end. "I was hoping that you would be willing to sell me the coordinates if you did not wish to aid in the search." No 'life or limb.' No effort past what he had already devoted to the search. Credits in exchange for information. "But If not..."

The princess turned from the sunlight, back toward the palace. "Very well." She spoke with a tone of finality, clasping her dark hands at her waist. "I must apologize again for the way my guards treated you." The first apology had fallen on deaf and unbelieving ears. It was unlikely, given the circumstances, that he would believe the second either, but she would give it anyway. "They acted without and against my instructions. You have my sincerest apologies. I will see to it that you are reimbursed for your time and for the fuel you burned when you were escorted here."

She meant it, too. Gesturing toward the glass doors that led back into the parlor, she continued, "I will personally escort you to your ship." To ensure that the accompanying guards did not repeat the same mistakes. Then his belongings would be returned to him, and he would be free to leave. @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow leaned against the railing, arms still crossed over his chest as he seethed internally. Then he asked himself what Terra would do in this situation. He took a breath and started over from the beginning. Drumming his fingers on his bicep while the Princess made a half-hearted attempt at rebuking him for his crass words. How typical, he thought, ready to storm out of this hell hole and put it behind him. Then she apologized again, but this time it wasn’t some veiled threat. This time it was genuine.

The Smuggler’s indignant scowl softened. Was she serious? Was this really just a misunderstanding? Crow hated being wrong. He hated it more than most things, because in his line of work when you’re wrong, you’re dead. He eased up off the railing and held both hands up in surrender.

“Hold on Princess, you’re not really giving up so easy, are you?”

Crow sighed running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for the insult. In all honestly, I thought you were about to kill me,” he shrugged apologetically. “How about we start over, I’m Crow. I gave up the name Crix a few years back.”

Come to think of it, aside from Terra and a couple of ringleaders in Black Sun, Crow didn’t think anyone still knew his actual name. Even saying it out loud felt foreign to him now.

“I understand you not trusting me, but this job is a personal one for me too,” It’d been the job he’d wanted to pull with Ines before she retired another missed opportunity. How many friends had he lost over the years? How many more would he lose in the future?

“I’ll accept your offer of two million, on the condition I get the chance to prove I’m not just some off-world smuggler and am eligible for the land grant. You get the final say, of course.”

The ball was back in her court. Finding the jewels with his info would be easy, getting them would be a whole different huttball game, and if the Princess couldn’t keep her boys in line on the planet what would they be like in a high-stress heist?

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

"If a battle cannot be won, do not fight it," Reyna rejoined, quoting a prominent philosopher and strategist from a bygone era. They were exchanging one riposte for another but making no headway, and to her that spelled the conclusion. The princess had not reached the French doors that led into the parlor, however, before the smuggler spoke up again. No retort, no thinly veiled insult or out-and-out insult this time. Even the scowl that had settled on his face and threatened to remain there was gone.
Reyna stared back at him over her shoulder, dark eyes studying him as the seconds stretched on and she listened to what he had to say. Up until now, she had done most of the talking. Now it was his turn. She did not know what had persuaded him to change his mind or if it had been his intention to agree to her terms from the very start, f he had been haggling just to see what else he could get her to throw in on top of her offer.

"Crow," she repeated, going gingerly over the syllable, as if they had just been introduced for the first time. It was an unusual name, and she imagined it had an even more unusual history. The princess lingered between the doorway and the smuggler, deliberating between two decisions, but she would not keep the smuggler in suspense for long. Given the conditions, it was an easy choice to make.

A dark hand was extended toward him—either to shake or to kiss—that was up to him to figure out, but it was an olive branch all the same. "Princess Reyna Vernize." They were starting over, after all. That meant introductions were in order. "I accept the terms of your offer, Mister Dol—Crow," she amended. Candid to a fault, the half-Sephi did not want him working under any misconceptions and would set the record straight here and now. "I would not have your hopes raised unduly. I do not expect to change my mind regarding the land grant."

The chance for him to prove himself would be given, however, and his persistence almost brought a smile to her lips. She would have the paperwork drawn up herself so that their agreement was down on paper and could not be refuted later. She gestured toward the parlor. "Shall we drink to it?" Perhaps now he might accept that bottle of cognac, and they could discuss plans. @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Three weeks later…

The Smuggler wasn’t sure he liked this plan. It put them both in more danger than he liked, but he’d learned over the past few weeks stuck in cramped quarters on his ship with her royal highness, that arguing with her never went the way he wanted. Crow was dressed in socialite finery. The ballroom on The Crown Jewel was large enough to house an entire multi-level club. He wasn’t sure why, but Princess Reyna had insisted on joining the mission. To his surprise, she’d proven to be a strong-willed participant, as well as a logical voice of reason. He hated it. Sorta...

Durga the Hutt lounged on his hover chair dangling a squealing amphibian over his slobbery maw before dropping the critter in. The Hutt burped then laughed that deep guttural laugh Hutt’s were iconic for. The slug even had a Monkeylizard sitting on his chair cackling wildly, and he was glad that for once he wasn’t in a Hutt’s presence to pay them respect. Crow was just a partygoer. Their job here was to verify whether or not the jewels in Durga's possession were in fact the real Royal Jewels.

Crow stole another glance at Reyna, then chastised himself for it and opened the comline, “Any luck?” They were both wearing hidden coms. It’d been the one concession he’d been able to win and that had only been possible because her head of security, Da-Rin had agreed with him.

They’d decided to split up, well she’d decided they’d split up, he’d thought that was a terrible idea, because they were on a karking star yacht filled with criminals, but hey, what did he know about criminals, but it made sense if they were going to cover the ground they needed. Crow ordered a beer from the bar and then headed in the opposite direction.

The room was set up like a museum. Durga had acquired so much shit, that Crow made a mental note to keep this Hutt in mind. Crimson Dawn may want a word with someone so prolific in acquiring artifacts.

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

"Not yet."
Druga the Hutt was quite the collector. From precious gemstones, the brilliant refraction of which made the most avaricious of the Hutt's guests water at the mouth, faces pressed up against the tempered glass display cases, to a seat cushion once used by the great Jabba the Hutt himself—complete with sweat stains and some type of goo that remained 'unidentifiable,' according to the description card that hung alongside it.

The Hutt had collected everything under the sun, but Reyna had seen crystal nor crown of the jewels yet. At this rate, with more than one level to explore in this Hutt's private din of pleasure and debauchery, they could be here all night searching. The thought made Reyna's skin crawl. She had never witnessed such a wretched hive of scum and villainy before in her entire life, not even in all the gin joints and fighting pits Cassian had drug her to.

Crix Dolan—or rather Crow, as he liked to be called—had led her to believe that this would be an upscale affair, for dilettantes of fine art and well-to-do collectors. It was anything but. She was beginning to regret her choice of dress, too—a black designer jumpsuit. Modest, all things considered, with only the arms and shoulders exposed, but it did nothing to stop the roving eyes of the other guests she passed. The entertainment the Hutt had provided—under clothed dancers on stage across from his dais was not eye candy enough for the wolves in attendance, who let their gaze pass over her as if she were one of the many artifacts on display instead of a living, breathing sentient.

While she had the smuggler's ear, she'd comment, gagging purely for effect, "What is that malodorous smell?"

In an attempt to overpower the pungent odor that hung in the air, she pulled the glass of red wine she had been sipping for the past half hour closer to her lips and nose, as if to take another drink. It was more water than wine. The Hutt's taste for the finer things in in life did not extend to alcohol. It was just as well, since being a half-Sephi, the princess did not possess a strong alcohol tolerance. This was the last place in the entire galaxy she wanted to get drunk.

"It smells worse than your ship." @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow took a sip of his ale as her royal highness inquired about the smell on the ship, “I have a feeling neither of us wants to know.”

The Smuggler spared Rayna a parting glance as he turned in the opposite direction and directly into a-a… Honestly, he wasn’t really sure, but it was pissed! He didn’t have time to defend his ship's smell as the spindly armed goon had a blaster in his hand faster than Crow’d ever seen. “Easy there friend, I’m sorry,” said Crow lifting his hands in surrender. “It was an honest mistake. I’ve had a bit too much to drink.” He plastered on that winning smile of his as he said his prayers.

“Be ssss-certain, it doe-sss not happen again-ah!” spat the stranger before stalking away into the crowd. As he left Crow caught a glimpse of an emblem on the guy’s— well he was pretty sure it had been male— jacket. He didn’t protest as the guy stepped away, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he needed to look into that emblem. With the danger gone, he took a breath and said, “The Blackbird smells fine!”

He watched the Noghri make his way through the crowd and toward the door. They stopped at a display. They seemed irritated, then huffed a bit and stormed off. Crow followed in the tough guy's tracks and stopped at the display he’d been looking at. It was labeled, Crown Jewels of Onderon.

“Your royalness, I think I’ve got something. Mind heading my way to verify?”

Crow frowned as he looked at them. They seemed… well they were unimpressive. Everything he’d read on the artifact proclaimed their elegance and grace, these were opulent and on their way to downright gaudy.

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

That wasn't entirely true, as the ship in question, so fondly dubbed The Blackbird by its captain, had a musty fetor to it that could not be disguised, not even by the princess' continued attempts to mask the odor with her signature perfume, a tantalizing combination of blue orchids and hydrangeas. She'd used an entire bottle over the course of their travels, spraying it here and there across the ship wherever it happened to smell the worst and would have used a second bottle had it not gone missing in the night. It had been stolen, either by Crow or one of her own bodyguards. No one had yet to confess.

"It would if you cleaned it every once in a while," she refuted, slipping past a rowdy group of middle-aged, balding businessmen in baggy, ill-fitted suits and loose ties placing bets they probably couldn't fill on the podracing match displayed overhead on a monitor as large as Druga the Hutt. Her tone lacked any sign of that haughty dignity that many, and often not without cause, came to expect from royalty. It wasn't the princess' intention to offend the smuggler by insulting his ship. She was merely being candid. Often her greatest virtue and her greatest fault.
A tall, paddle-footed being bumped into her, muttered something under his breath about, "Watch where you're going," and then waded right into the midst of some of the Hutt's dancers, which caused quite the stir amongst their most ardent admirers. The only thing more interesting than Druga's collection of artifacts and valuables was his collection of friends. So far Reyna hadn't been recognized. Nor was she likely to be, this far away from Onderon. She doubted any of the partygoers in attendance kept up with politics or read the weekly gossip column. A couple of her bodyguards had even been able to sneak in. Who knew where they were now? Close, she hoped.

"Did you find them?" Reyna asked, voice rising in pitch ever-so-slightly. Her ears perked up, and she carved her way through the crowd until she found Crow. He was hard to miss in that bright yellow shirt. He also looked like one of the only people here that had taken a shower within the last two weeks. "Is it them?"

Wine glass in one hand, the other was placed to the glass display case. As close as she could get at present to the jewels on display. Dark eyes stared for a moment or two, unblinking and unwavering. "I... I don't think these are them," she said, verbalizing her own thoughts to Crow without hesitation or caution, regardless of who might have been eavesdropping. The Royal Jewels of Onderon had been missing for over a millennia. Reyna had never seen them with her own two eyes. Never held them with her own two hands. She only had a few old pictures to go off of, the descriptions that had been passed down from one generation of Vernizes to another.

And, of course, what her father liked to call 'the final test.' The only way to tell the legitimate jewels from the many counterfeits and duplicates that had been made over the years to collect the reward money or inflate the egos of collectors. For that, she'd have to hold them. Then she'd know exactly what to look for. In a much softer tone, she added, "Maybe... If Druga really does have the jewels, I doubt he would want to display them here, where anyone could try to take them. Maybe these are a cheap imitation?" She tore her gaze away from the jewelry to look at Crow. If either of them was more likely to know the inner workings of a Hutt's mind, it was him. @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Rayna confirmed what he feared. These “Royal Jewels” were fakes. He considered Reyna’s words for a moment and said, “If that were the case what would the point of showing them off?”

She might not be wrong. The Jewels could very well be hidden here in some safe deposit box only the Hutt knew about, or, this Hutt bought some fakes and is showing them off like their the real thing. Honestly, he didn’t like how possible both outcomes seemed to be.

“This might be a bust, Reyna,” he wasn’t sure why but he’d taken to using her name when he was serious. They were teetering at a boiling point here. If they continued searching the Hutt’s yacht, they increased their risk of being noticed. If they left now they’d— Blaster fire erupted from his right, instinctively he dove for cover tackling Reyna as he went down. He landed on all fours which hurt way more than he cared to admit and used his body to shield her from any shattered traspristeel raining down from the litany of destroyed display cases. Durga the Hutt was being raided by a rival.

“We gotta move,” he said shifting his leg so he could pull his blaster. For just an instant they were inches away, the smell of her accrued perfume was intoxicating as their eyes met for a split second. Then the world came crashing back down around them as the intensity of the blaster fire increased. Druga’s men were caught flat-footed but some of them were regaining their composure.

Crow was up on a knee, he took aim and fire twice dropping two incomers. “Go!” he barked at her waving toward a large display case 10m away. Over their com she would hear Crow say, “Dar-in, the princess is on the move, rendezvous with her at the diamond rancor display, I’m gonna draw their fire.”

A blaster bolt scorched the air right next to his face and he flinched, slipping behind cover. “Oh this is going to be great,” he muttered looking for a safe route.

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

Neither outcome was ideal, and the former—that the Hutt had secreted the Crown Jewels of Onderon somewhere aboard ship where only his pudgy hands could trace the outline of its diamonds, sodden eyes roaming over each intricacy of its craftmanship for hours on end—was unlikely. It was probably just wishful thinking on her part. Crow was right. Why would Durga spend credits on something he didn't intend on showing off? Vaunting was in the nature of every Hutt.

Just another dead end. The princess bit her lip to keep from cursing. Her mother had raised her better than that. "I was so sure that he'd have them," she said aloud, bouncing her thoughts off the smuggler. Not many people were able to pull the wool over a Hutt's eyes and live to tell the tale. She traced a dark, flawlessly manicured finger across the glass display case, as if she just couldn't let go of the idea. Not yet, anyway.
Fate had other ideas, and it did not wait for her to catch up. There's nothing like being shot at with hot plasma bolts to rouse you from your own musing and shock you back into reality. Before she could react, Crow had already leapt into action. Quite literally, knocking the wind out of her as he tackled her to the ground and they slid across the floor, the unlikely duo skidding to an abrupt stop behind a vitrine full of first-edition copies of Emryc Thorne's Secret Silicone Valley.

Everything happened so fast. Display cases broke. Glass shattered. The artifacts that the Hutt had treasured and spent the better part of his life acquiring fell to the floor, scattering into thousands of irreparable pieces. Men and women screamed, clambering for the exits and tripping over each other. There was a dull ache that traveled the length of Reyna's back, all the way down to her tailbone, which she would have been tempted to massage were she not in public and Crow wasn't on top of her, and she could already feel the onset of a migraine where her head had hit the floor.

"Why do you always reek of alcohol?" the princess groaned, oddly enough the first thing that came to mind as he hovered over her, inches away. She stared up at the smuggler, blinking rapidly as her stomach rose and fell with every breath she took, still processing everything that was happening. It wasn't every day she got shot at, and it wasn't every day she got tackled to the ground. Pointed ears pressed against the sides of her skull, a combination of confusion and fear.

Their respite from the chaos around them was short-lived. Glass rained down on them both, red plasma bolts tearing through the binding of the first-edition books. Reyna yelped, an uncharacteristic sound from the composed princess, instinctively turning away from the barrage of paper, splintered wood, and glass that pelted them. Her ears were ringing, that last shot too close for comfort. She was in no position to argue with the smuggler, unarmed and unprepared for such a scenario, and ran for cover behind the diamond rancor case while Crow covered her retreat.

"An' where do ya think you're going?" a grating voice asked. Four gray fingers wrapped around her wrist, dragging the princess to her feet and face to face with the same hairless, wiry sentient that had bumped into her earlier. Dark eyes bounced away, looking for something to defend herself with as she squirmed, skin recoiling at the unwelcome leathery touch. She wasn't accustomed to that, being touched without her consent, and she loathed it. With nothing of use within arm's reach, she realized it was time to put those combat lessons to good use. If she could. If not, perhaps she could hold him off long enough for her bodyguards to arrive. There was only one way to find out. @Zay

 

[Crix Dolan]

Crow’s concern for Rayna’s life melted as she commented on his smell, “Has anyone ever told you, you’ve got a way of ruining moments?” he grumbled before blaster fire lit up the display case next to him.

To his surprise she didn’t protest when he told her to escape, he’d half expected her to argue before running, but apparently, superheated plasma was a good motivator. He’d need to keep that in mind. Now, of course, he needed to avoid being filled with smoking holes.

Crow pulled both blasters and let them dance. Anyone watching could have mistaken him for a force user. As he stepped around from cover he unleashed a barrage of shots while moving to cover. He hit a charging Zabrak, a screaming Rodian, and the ugliest human he’d ever laid eyes on when he made it to cover. All in a day's work to beautify the galaxy he supposed.

The area he was in suddenly cleared as the goons set to their primary objective: Stealing all of the Hutt’s shit. Deciding now was as good a time as ever he trotted off in the direction Reyna had run. He needed to catch up to her so they could get the hell out of here. It as clear the jewles weren't here and there was no reason to put her in unnecessary danger— DOW! DOW!

Crix slid to a stop. He couldn't explain it, but his intuition told him something terrible had just happened. Without hesitation he broke into a run.

-----------​

Dar-in watched in horror as some ashen skinned friend dared to lay a hand on his majesty. Reyna’s head of security stepped out from behind his cover, weapon leveled on the gray man. “That’s enough, let her go and walk away and nobody get’s hurt!”

The figure bristled, but didn’t release Reyna, his fingers would squeeze tighter as his scowl hardened, still looking at Reyna he’d ask, “Does he think he can hurt me?”

Faster than Dar-in could comprehend, the being snatched a blaster and opened fire. Two blue plasma bolts slammed into the Soldier of Onderon’s chest. His face was a conflagration of disbelief and shame as blood trickled from his mouth. Dar-in’s eyes would lock onto Reyna’s. His last words were barely more than a harsh whisper, “I’m… Sorry…”

Dar-in fell to his knees then watched the world turn sideways as he collided with the ground. He could see the gray man struggling to pull the princess, his princess, down the hall… Where was that… b..bloody… smuggler…

@llamallove

 

[Reyna Vernize]

"Get your hands off me!" Reyna spat, pointed ears flat against the sides of her head, but it didn't do any good. The princess wasn't above a crude word when necessary and the situation called for it, and the wiry sentient opposite her wasn't above holding a lady against her will. There wasn't much he was above she imagined.
That didn't work, so it was time to take matters into her own hands. Literally. What was it Altair had told her to do, should someone seize her by the wrist? She thought back to that first lesson of many, to that abandoned warehouse along Lost Soul Street. The memory she pieced together and unpacked in her mind in a matter of seconds, with absolute accuracy and perfect recollection.

Execution, however, was a different matter altogether. With her free hand, dark fingers looped around to snatch her own wrist away from her assailant, rotating the bound wrist and pulling. That maneuver, if successful, she would follow up with a solid punch to the face or the gut and then make a break for it. Unfortunately for her, it was not successful, as her concentration was broken, her attention drawn toward her bodyguard running up the hall.

One of the bodyguards that had managed to sneak in to the Hutt's party. Dar-in, by name. He had been assigned to Reyna ever since her fifteenth birthday, and he had had his hands full ever since. Before the half-Sephi could cry out in warning or even alarm, the ashen sentient had opened fire on the Onderonian guard, and two plasma bolts had struck him in the chest.

It all happened so fast. There was nothing Reyna could do. Nothing she could say. She stood there, rooted in place like one of the topiaries that grew alongside the palace of Onderon's garden paths. Her skin tingled with discomfort, as if it had been her that had been shot. Her slimy friend, coming to the conclusion that this was all more trouble than she was worth, cursed, "Wench!" but she didn't hear him. Only felt a sharp sting as the back of his hand struck her across the face, blood beginning to run from her right nostril.

self-defense 5/20 -_- @Zay