The First Rule

[Gillian Rel]

Gil had finished his business on Coruscant but wasn't due back for another couple of days so he decided to head to a shady looking bar a few levels down for old times sake. He had practically grown up in places like this. The twinge of nostalgia caused a slight grin to bloom on his face before he raised his glass to his lips again.

He let his attention fall back to the holoscreens above the bar. He genuinely missed the swoop races of Nar Shaddaa. They had been dangerous and often ended in more people dying than living. These were more professional than those underground races he had grown up on but they were still enjoyable.

"Another one? asked the bartender, causing Gil to look down. "Another one would be perfect." he said turning to scan the room.

Maybe he could find a card game or two. He didn't get much opportunity to relax, he might as well make the most of it.

@Zay

 

[Aeron Mathis]

Coreuscant, home of the galaxy's elite. The city planet of dreams, where people came to chase their dreams. But for all of it's illustrious offerings the city is a cold and unforgiving place. Aeron hated it. Even though he walked the streets as a free man, there was an indescribable sense of oppression that seemed to emanate from the city itself. He yearned to leave this wretched planet behind and return to his own den of thieves and cutthroats. Nar Shaddaa was chaotic, but it was familure to him, this place was... not.

The Mercenary came to a crossroad and let out a small frustrated breath as he realized he was lost. He hung his head in defeat and cursed his luck, shoving his hands into his pockets and composing himself. He couldn't figure out why, but he was really on edge. Deciding to take the edge off, Mathis made his way to a bar at the end of the block. Aeron stepped into the space and let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The bar was in the center of the room ringed with Holoscreens. Their iridescent glow was the main source of light in the bar and Aeron found himself moving toward it like a moth to the flame.

Aeron slipped into an empty seat and ordered a shot of house whiskey and a glass of water. He threw back the shot and ordered another while lifting the water to his lips. It felt like his skin was crawling. He hadn't felt like this since his last match on the sands. He took a breath and tried to calm down, but it wasn't happening. The second shot arrived and he made it disappear. Mathis sipped his water then set it down on the bar. He decided to try and decompress and closed his eyes running through his post-fight meditation.

To his relife, he could feel his mood shifting. He was starting to regain control. Aeron regulated his breathing and sipped his water. When the bartender returned The Mercenary ordered one more shot. He felt exhausted like he'd spent the day doing hard physical labor rather than standing at attention. His third drink arrived, but instead of slamming it he dumped it into what remained of his water and continued to sip. The Mercenary was shook. Whatever that was made one thing very clear to him. As soon as his credits cleared from his job he'd be getting the hell off this planet.

@Raydo

 

[Gillian Rel]

He noticed the man sit down next to him before turning back to the screen. He didn't pay him much attention until after the race he had been watching ended. He noticed the man slam down another shot.

"Rough day, huh?" he said making conversation. "I hope you don't mind me saying this but...you look like shit, friend" he said light heatedly before taking another drink.

He waved the bartended down I'll have another round, and get him another of whatever he is having." he said before turning back to the man. He was vaguely aware of two people yelling at each other in a language he didn't understand behind him. It barely phased him. He had grown up around bars and people fought, it was just something that happened.

Is it women or credits?" he asked trying to guess what had the man down, it was usually one of those things. A second later he winced before asking "Or maybe both?" he finished shaking his head.

The commotion behind him grew but Gil continued to tune it out for the time being.

@Zay

 

[Aeron Mathis]

Aeron nursed his drink and took a little time to take in his surroundings. To his right sat a gammorian. The pig-faced sentient was scarfing down a disgusting smelling meal while sloppily guzzling some sort of ale that smelled as stale as the being did. To his left sat a slender Elven male. The Elf seemed to take notice of his presence after the race ended. The Mercenary, wasn't in the mood to entertain strangers, but he decided to give it a shot.

"Rough week," he remarked. "Guard duty for six days straight. Decent money, but mind-numbingly boring."

The elf remarked on his appearance which Aeron found strange, how did he look like shit. He wasn't the color or consistency of excrement. He was able to put together the man's actual inquiry and he had to chuckle. He still wasn't used to the colloquialisms used in basic outside the walls of Loovria.

He sipped his watered down whiskey and said, "Credits. What's your excuse for looking like shit?"

It was a week attempt at returning the man's casual question with one of his own. Two beings in the back of the bar, a twi'lek and a gotal, were starting to cause a scene. Aeron watched momentarily when one of them caught his curious gaze. The Twi'lek called out across the bar, "Oy, Whadda'ya looking at, mate?"

Aeron cocked an eyebrow in confusion and looked back to his elven acquaintance for some kind of clue on how he was supposed to respond, but he didn't receive any help. His calm was on the verge of breaking. He could feel the heat of his anger in his chest as he blood began to boil. The twi'lek stood from the table he was sitting at, sending his chair skittering to the ground behind him. He slapped the gotal's arm and then pointed to Aeron.

"I think'is, fool want's some trouble!" Yelled the twi'lek. The gotal rose from his chair turning to face Aeron. With a toothy smile, he said, "Is'at right?" The beast bellowed laughter and started toward him. The twi'lek followed in tow. Aeron ordered another whiskey as he threw back the rest of his watered-down liquor. He spun around in his bar stool to face his incoming adversaries.

"Gentlemen, I don't have to look for trouble. I'm it," his expression was dead serious and his fists were clenched in preparation. He was ready to go to war.

@Raydo

 

[Gillian Rel]

He remembered his days as low-level thug where he had been sent out the guard this or that. He remembered it almost always being extremely boring. The man shot back the question at him which caused a grin to spread across his face. "It's always both." he said downing the rest of his drink.

Gil was about to speak up again before the trouble brewing in the bar reached them. Two rather rough looking thugs started to move toward Aeron, the fight brewing obviously. The man did nothing to dissuade the two approaching attackers.

Well, this was about to get messy. Gil pushed back from the bar. It was involving him but Gil knew how these things went. Before Gil could react or any one person could make the first move, the entire bar seemed to erupt into a fight at once.

Gil was caught by something on the back as he stumbled forwards.

 

[Aeron Mathis]

"That's enough boys, I don't want any trouble here," said the bartender in a tone that implied he didn't get paid enough for this shit. Aeron would normally have obliged. Hell, he worked at a bar part time he should understand the anxiety his aggression was causing, but he could care less. He stood from his bar stool and shot back the whiskey the bartender tentatively set behind him. The Gotal started to speak, but Aeron cut him off.

"Stop wasting your breath, I'm not intimidated." The Gladiator's expression was malic incarnate. "Say when," He dared the buffoon walking toward him. The bar fell silent. The tension was thick enough to cut. The Bartender started to speak, but the sound of his voice acted as the ignition to the flame and the bar erupted into chaos.

Aeron didn't have time to see what hit his elven friend, because the Gotal looking for trouble bellowed a drunken warcry and charged. Aeron waited until the last second and as the beings furry mitts reached out to grab him, he slipped his grasp. Rolling out to the beings left flank, Aeron delivered a swift precise kick aimed at the gotal's left knee. His kick landed true and the being dropped to a knee. Capitalizing on the success of his attack he reached out grabbing the beast by the horns and slammed a devastating knee into the beings defenseless face.

An onlooker called out, "DAMN!" As Aeron allowed the unconscious being to fall to the floor. He turned back to the bar and spotted the Bartender crouched in the corner on his comm clearly hailing the authorities. The Gladiator figured he wasn't going to get another whiskey and settled for a smoke. He pulled out a pack of cigara's and lit one up. He blew a plume of smoke out and felt someone grab him from behind. This was going to be fun. A feral smiled split his lips as he gave into his gladiatorial training.

@Raydo