Ask Tatooine The Nerf Herder

[Finnick Dondarrion]

Some Spaceport, Mos Eisley​

Finn was having one of those days. The kind that started with him stepping in a pool of day old caf while stepping out of bed, having to rush to land his ship before his entry slot expired, and having to spend the rest of the day with the joy of wet socks blanketing his feet. Add in the fact that he was having to deal with a trio of Jawas who wouldn't stop talking, and he was fighting the urge to draw his blade and start swinging.

He didn't speak enough Jawaese to understand everything the trio was telling him, but he understood just enough to know that he wanted no part of it. "Look, I was hired to bring this lot to Tatooine. No one said anything about digging bags of spice out of their shit." That sent them jabbering away again, pointing at another nearby pen, full of banthas. "A lack of gloves isn't the problem here. I am not touching shit, just take the damn nerfs and give me my credits."

He was of course ignored, and as their excited conversation continued he gave up, hand rising to his face to rub furiously at his brow. A small bead of frustration was starting to form in the back of his mind as he closed his eyes to think things through. After a few deep breaths he opened his eyes, about to speak up when his datapad beeped. Pulling it out, he saw the headline detailing the developments on Kessel. Suddenly, everything had changed. If Kessel was under blockade then the spice he had suddenly became a whole lot more precious.

Switching off his datapad, he pushed it back into his pocket with a smile on his lips and stepped up towards the Jawas.

"Sorry kids, change of plans. No sale today."

He tried shooing them away, which they thought to be a negotiation tactic because he was sure they agreed to dig out the spice themselves. Ultimately he was forced to resolve to extreme measures, and he had to pull out his blaster to scare them off. He began herding the nerfs back into his ship, thinking his Jawa troubles over for the day, but unaware of their determination to conclude the deal. Specially this deal.

 

[Leon Baudelaire]

The Freebird punched through the atmosphere of Tatooine. Since stealing the ship with Ezra, Leon had discovered the navigation system in the patrol craft had backdoors to a huge amount of planets. To his delight, Tatooine had been one of them. He set down in a small settlement a few clicks to the west of Mos Eisley. He needed a little maintenance done to the bird and paid for a refuel at a local mechanic. He left Peetwo onboard to keep an eye on everything. The little droid was surprisingly adept at surveillance.

As he stepped out of the shop he took a couple running steps, threw down his skimboard and jumped on. The board came online and shot off as his back foot landed on the accelerator. Leon was dressed for battle. He’d added a pair of tinted goggles and a poncho to compensate for the blinding fury of Tatooine’s twin suns.

His purpose for being here still wasn’t crystal clear to him. He could feel the force at work, but he was more leaf in the wind than sail on a ship. Tolan Kor’s words echoed in his mind as he crested a dune and launched himself into the air.

“You must find the graveyard that is an oasis and pluck the gem from it’s protector, with gem in hand the path will be revealed by the dusk of the setting twins.”

Baudelaire couldn’t believe he was even entertaining this. This recorded message was thousands of years old at this point. The chance of there being anything at the end of this was the size of a mustard seed, but a part of him needed to see it through. He needed to either prove it was wrong or accept his fate.

That’s why he hadn’t told any of his friends.

Leon banked hard, then popped the board up into his left hand as he stepped off of it and onto the ground. The Seedy sprawl of Mos Eisley stretched out before him as far as his eye could see. A line of jawa’s muttering in their strange little language barged past him. Nothing like a little Mos Eisley greeting he thought, as he scanned the buildings. He was well aware that Peef Za Fenn had his headquarters here and wasn’t interested in being enslaved again. He also had his lightsabers hidden. He wouldn’t make the mistake of showing them in the city limits again.

The familiar sing-songy voice from the deepest parts of his mind began it’s little song as his gaze drifted past a bar, “A drink, a drink, a drinkadrinkadrink!”

Historically, bars had been a pretty good source of information for Leon, so, he conceded to his desire and made his way to the bar.

@Wit

 

[Finnick Dondarrion]

Having finished loading the herd back onto his ship, Finn also headed out spaceport. As he had hoped to leave Tatooine without the nerfs he was not prepared for handling them. Food and water was easy, but if they were going to stick around in his cargo hold for an extended period of time then he needed a way to clean after them and keep the smell in check. He was sure a droid of some sort would do the trick, unfortunately he had just pissed off the one place he knew he would find something like that, with the Jawas.

So with that avenue closed, he had to do some searching, and what better place to start than the cantina. The logical part of his brain told him that wasn't true, but if he had weeks of his ship smelling of dung to look forward to then he wasn't really in the mood for logic. So he stepped into the cantina and made a beeline for the bar, accidentally bumping into another patron headed the same way.

Not only did the bump keep him from getting to the bar, it also turned him around at just the right moment to let a couple of Jawas to slip into the cantina behind him without him noticing. "Sorry!" He said almost instinctively to the black haired man he had run into, having realized that apologizing and carrying on was the best way to avoid trouble. But while he was beginning to build that habit, he hadn't entirely mastered the ability to know when not to speak whatever was on his mind, specially now that he no longer had the backing of the Sith Order behind him.

"Were you singing?"

@Zay

 

[Leon Baudelaire]

Leon stepped into the cantina and made his way to the bar. Like every cantina on Tatooine, anytime someone new entered, it was customary to stare down said newcomer until they ordered and then resume business as usual. It was super weird, and Baudelaire had just kinda accepted it, but why? Why is this a thing?

“Corellian rye, please,” he asked the bartender, the guy pulled a bottle that wasn’t what he’d ordered and poured him a cup, “Ten creds,” he said sliding it over, Leon’s hand waved casually as he said, “This is free because it’s wrong,” he said in a flat tone.

The bartender blinked, then repeated what he’d said. His brow wrinkled in confusion, Leon took the shot then tapped the bar and said, “I”ll have that Corellian rye now, my friend.”

The cantina behind him went back to the bustling clatter and clang of conversations, clinking glasses and house music.

Baudelaire sank into a booth and started to survey the patrons. His prospects for finding help weren’t looking great, and then he felt eyes on him. Leon casually leaned back in his seat and shifted sitting sideways. He acted like he was just getting comfortable but he was trying to figure out— There, two tables away, a Duro… The guy stood and started walking over. Leon eased his hand to the butt of his blaster. He didn’t need his sabers to be deadly.

The Duro slid in across from him, didn’t say anything, just sat there, giving Leon a hard look. The kind of look you give when you mean to harm. Baudelaire turned to face him, casually slipping his blaster from it’s holster under the table and out of sight.

The Duro said, “I know what you did over there.”
Leon swallowed, “That right?”
“How much you willing to pay for my silence?” sly grin spreading across his face.

Great…

@Wit