Private A Chance Encounter

[Mercy]

NAR SHADDAA
Isobel Serraris

Mercy wandered out of the bar she had been drinking in after the impromptu meeting with Lysander von Ascania , Naamino Zuukamano and Fatine von Ascania . Nobody died, which usually meant that the meeting with Mercy had gone well. She loved Nar Shaddaa. The chaos on the streets, the sheer madness, it appealed to her baser nature. The sounds themselves were intrinsically familiar to her as well.

The screams, the blaster shots in the distance, the shattering of glass, the music and the laughter.

She passed an alleyway.

Then paused, because the sound out of that one wasn't as familiar to her. It had a certain... heroic tone to it. As if someone was playing hero, which certainly was not something that Mercy was used to on Nar Shaddaa. Part of her wanted to just move on. The night had been long- first with the music and heavy drinking, then with the negotiations and the shit stirring, but Mercy couldn't really help herself.

It was that shit stirring capacity that made her interested and curious.

So instead she walked back and moved into the alley. A suicidal inclination for anyone that wasn't Mercy in a place like this. Dark, damp, with enough shadows you couldn't see clearly from the street-side.

But Mercy held no fear, she was the largest creature in the room at any time of day and just her sheer size usually made people think twice.

"Now, what do we have here..."

 

[Isobel Serraris]

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER​

Location — Nar Shaddaa
Objective — Survive the city-planet . . .
Tags — Mercy
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers

She missed Naboo. She missed the people, the smell of flowers and her family's guarlaras, even the fashion that often was the topic of the daily gossip. This was everything but that, the lights were bright and blinded her as Isobel wandered endlessly throughout the foul streets. To think people took joy in the shadowy nature of this planet, or to build their enterprise here! There was not one civilised thing to be found in both its people and environment. And yet her oldest brother had insisted it would do her good to see more of this galaxy--and she would have agreed, were it not for him abandoning her to go to some club or 'business meeting'! But anger was not the way of the Jedi, so with a lot of deep breaths and happy thoughts, she managed to dismiss it, for now.

The young Padawan kept on walking, praying to Shiraya that something would lead her back to the 'worse Serraris'. He could not be far from where she had lost sight of him, and surely his loud voice could not be drowned out by many a noise. She pulled the hood of her cloak further over her curly hair, its shadows concealing half of her sun-kissed face. A fragile shield against the lurking eyes of both criminals and the Huttese. One that was shattered as soon as it appeared with the arrival of a shadowy figure--A tall... woman standing at the end of the alleyway. Isobel's hand drew toward her lightsaber veiled by her cloak, not quite removing it from its clip, but keeping it at the ready.

"No one, only someone searching for her brother in this maze." Isobel kept her tone light and innocent, attempting to communicate that she was not an enemy--even that must be the last thought on this stranger's mind. Her Nabooan accent shimmered through brighter than a lightsaber lit up a dark room. "You would not happen to know where the nearest bar is..?"

​

 

[Mercy]

Isobel Serraris

A little head tilt there as Mercy took in the newcomer in the alleyway.

She certainly didn't seem to fit with the scene. It was all grime and grunch with this one lady in the middle of it. Even her accent had that posh noble tune to it that Mercy had known for so long during her youth.

"It certainly is a maze at that." Mercy said with some amusement as she leaned against the wall. Like that her entire posture cut the exit of the alleyway off, so Isobel couldn't just get out without returning whence she came from. "Your brother must not be very responsible, if he left a little lady such as yourself all alone here."

From anyone else it might have sounded like a vile threat. Especially in the context of an alleyway, Nar Shaddaa and those piercing amber eyes. But Mercy lit up a cigarette and watched her with amusement, rather than violent intent.

"Not very smart to just wander around these places. You do realize you are surrounded by criminals and scum, yeah?"

For now Mercy didn't respond to her query about the bar.

She had just walked out of one, so that could come up at any time.

 

[Isobel Serraris]

A CHANCE ENCOUNTER​

Location — Nar Shaddaa
Objective — Survive the city-planet . . .
Tags — Mercy
Paraphernalia — Lightsabers

Akin to a cornered Merqaal, the first instinct was to step back and find a way out of this makeshift prison. With a figure twice if not thrice her size, the odds of slipping from their firm grasp were as probable as knowing every planet's name within this vast galaxy. Still, Isobel drew a step back, trying to keep a steady distance between herself and this possible foe--though she hoped not, for that would be her swift end. And she was not going to let her story consist only of a half-written chapter. "I never said my brother had any wits about him." She attempted to forge a joke, to mend the sharpness of the tension into a shield. Though it shattered into a million pieces as she extended the gap even further.

The remark about the hostility of this planet did not come as a surprise--with the shadiness in both appearance and presence, it was a miracle she had not been mugged yet. None on this planet possessed good intentions, their hearts were veiled and the Force felt more akin to an abandoned garden than it prospered. Whatever dealings have drained the life from this planet, she would hope to not be the topic of one anytime soon. The Padawan's thumb hovered over the activation stub on her aurodium-lined lightsaber, all while she studied the way this figure only calmly lit her cigarette. "It would be hard to miss that detail. . ." She murmured, and considered her chances if she ignited it.

The woman's skin had the look of armour to it, and her gaze stated nothing more than the fact she was toying with the young lady. Unleashing a lightsaber would only draw forth more attention and be laughed off like a tooka baring its teeth. "What do you want of me?" Left her lips instead, as her hands were clasped together in front of her. "Credits? Information? Injuring me shall only doom you." She tried to make clear, if her family were to find out their only 'marketable' asset was gone--such was the way of noble ladies--they would unleash havoc. . .

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