First Reply A Distracted Jedi

[Gario Galahad]

Gario stepped down the shuttle's ramp into the damp heat of Myrra. The thick smell of the surrounding jungle hit him immediately, making him grimace as he set off toward the crowded docks. Merchants hurried past, hauling crates for their customers, but something was off. Row after row of stalls sat half-empty, their owners looking worn out.

Leaning casually against an alley wall, Gario listened in as two local vendors vented their frustration. A local smuggling ring was flooding the city with cheap, black-market goods. They were undercutting the legitimate merchants so badly that hard-working families couldn't even afford to keep their doors open.

It was the kind of injustice Gario couldn't just walk away from. If he wanted to trace the supply lines, he needed someone who understood the city's underbelly. He turned north, planning to track down a contact who knew the local crime networks. He'd only made it a few blocks when a familiar noise cut through the street chatter.

Music drifted out through heavy durasteel doors, mixed with the sharp rattle of dice on wooden tables and the roar of a packed room. Gario smiled as he spotted the flickering sign. Of course there was a cantina. He told himself stepping inside was practical after all, a local watering hole was the fastest way to gather street-level intel.

It was a convenient excuse, even if it was mostly a lie to cover the fact that he was dying for a stiff drink. He waded into the crowded room, brushing off the stares from patrons who caught sight of the lightsaber hanging at his hip. Jedi weren't welcome in a place like this, but Gario figured their attitudes would soften up the second he started buying rounds.​

 

[Gario Galahad]

Gario slid onto an empty stool, resting his elbows on the sticky bar top. He tapped the wood to catch the bartender's attention, glancing at the cluttered shelf of dusty bottles behind the counter. The local drink looked like engine oil, but at the back was a dark blue bottle with a faded Corellian seal. He waited patiently until the bartender finally approached.

"Give me the top shelf," Gario said, pushing a stack of credits forward. "The good stuff." The bartender grunted, took down the sealed bottle, and poured a generous splash into a clean glass. Gario reached out, letting the warm aroma wash over him before taking a moment to appreciate it.

"Hand over the saber, Jedi." The gravelly voice came from his left but he didn't turn immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed two Rodian thugs stepping closer, their snout-like mouths twitching. Heavy blaster pistols were already drawn, aimed directly at his ribs.

"Fetches a fortune on the black market," the lead Rodian hissed, pointing the barrel toward Gario's hip. "Hand it over, nice and easy." Gario gave a slight nod in understanding as he put his untouched glass back on the bar counter. Before the Rodian could react, Gario pushed a hand against the thug's shoulder and gave a hard shove.

The alien stumbled back into his partner, losing his balance on the slick floor. In the same motion, Gario's curved lightsaber hilt snapped into his hand. The bright green blade ignited with a sharp snap-hiss, slicing through the second thug's blaster barrel before he could pull the trigger. The severed metal clattered to the floor with a dull thud as his saber moved into a defensive stance.​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Gario Galahad

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Braze had been following a few leads after receiving information that someone operating through Myrra had been trafficking Jedi artifacts, restricted technology, and even… information connected to one of the old Shadow safehouses.

He'd stepped into the bar hoping to gather what he could by asking around when the trouble began to unfold before him between the old man and teh two thugs.

A soft sigh escaped his lips before a violet blade sprang to life wityha vibrant arc. Braze moved taking up position behind the Rodians, placing the unfortunate would-be robbers between himself and the other Jedi.

"Guess you two made a bad choice today huh?"

 

[Gario Galahad]

The two Rodians jumped up from the floor in a panic when they saw a second violet lightsaber glowing right behind them. They nearly trampled each other in their rush to escape, pushing past other patrons and knocking over a few wooden chairs with a loud crash before they vanished into the damp street outside.

Gario let out a soft sigh as he watched the doors close. He hadn't even had the chance to introduce himself. How would the locals ever learn about the great Jedi Galahad and his surprisingly stealthy new sidekick Braze if everyone kept fleeing before they could get to know each other.

With a small flick of his wrist, Gario turned off his saber and clipped the curved hilt back onto his belt. He pivoted and sat down on the bar stool, resting his elbows on the counter. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he chuckled quietly and then looked over at the younger Jedi with a smirk.

"Aren't you a bit short to be wielding a lightsaber?" Gario picked up the glass of Corellian brew he had set down earlier and took a long, slow sip, savoring the burn as it slid down. He placed the empty glass back on the sticky wood and motioned toward the seat beside him.​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Gario Galahad

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Braze watched them flee in terror, then slowly disengaged his own saber. A heavy sigh passed his lips as he slipped one hand beneath the fall of his cloak and secured the weapon to its ventral mount. Part of him worried about what reinforcements they might bring back. He understood what it meant to guard life, yet more and more, he found himself wondering whether sparing those who served only their own self-interest was truly mercy… or merely postponing the harm they would cause once they felt safe again.

Had he been younger, he might have snapped back with some haughty reply. Braze had done a great deal of growing lately, however, and that gave him reason to pause and consider his next few words, keeping the first sharp answer behind his teeth… something that might have sounded clever in the moment and foolish the instant it left him.

“Isn’t it usually the elders who tell younglings not to judge a book by its cover?” Braze asked, exhaustion wearing the usual edge from his voice.

“You seem to be rather far from High Republic territory…” he mused moving to take a seat at the bar.

 

[Gario Galahad]

Gario tapped his empty glass on the counter and signaled to the bartender. "Pour me another one." As the dark blue liquid filled his glass, he quickly drank it all in one go, feeling warmth spread through his cheeks and relax his shoulders. A lazy smile stayed on his face, supported by the pleasant buzz of the alcohol.

He motioned for a third drink, leaning back on the stool while stroking his salt-and-pepper beard, thinking about Braze response. Gario raised his hands in a playful gesture of surrender, laughing heartily. "Touché, kid. Touché." He let his hands drop with a shrug. The Council back at the Temple never liked his teaching style either.

They had nearly kicked him out of the archives after they caught him showing a group of younglings how to use the Force to influence a roll of the chance-cubes. He only did it once, and it was an important lesson in subtle manipulation at least that was the excuse he used when they caught him. Spinning around on the wobbly barstool, Gario planted his feet on the ground and gave a dramatic bow from his seat.

"Master Gario Galahad, at your service," he said, straightening up with a confident grin. "And to answer your question, I'm here on a very important, official mission. Mostly to keep out of the way of the Vanguard Schism and make sure the galaxy's tavern owners stay in business." He picked up the freshly poured glass, swirling the amber liquid before taking another long drink.​

 

[Braze]

Tags: Gario Galahad

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Braze watched the elder curiously, seeming to study his body language, though the man proved a little more difficult to read than most. He seemed so… relaxed.

He quirked a brow at the fanciful bow before his interest was caught by something else.

"Schism?"

Braze wasn't entirely sure what the Vanguard was, though he was beginning to hazard a few guesses from the context surrounding it. When Galahad mentioned a mission, Braze took him completely seriously, too literal in the moment to realize the remark might have been teasing.

"By… chasing off would-be rabble-rousers?" he asked, visibly confused by the notion.

Sure… someone could take that upon themselves and make it their life's work, he supposed, but Braze didn't immediately understand what made it a mission of such great importance.

His gaze drifted back toward the way the thugs had departed. He stared after them for several long moments, considering whether they might return with a Vigo and a larger crew. His mouth tightened as an older memory surfaced of himself as little more than a lad with a training saber, watching thugs level that poor Bothan's home.

Perhaps lives were at stake here… regardless of how few...He could understand that as a noble goal. There were certainly worse things to dedicate yourself to than protecting people who couldn't protect themselves.

"Master Galahad it is… I'm sorry to say I haven't had the pleasure of crossing paths with you before, sir. My name's Braze."

He offered the introduction softly before glancing toward the bartender, who was giving him an uncertain look. Braze ordered himself a lemon lime pop with cherry juice, before he paid the fellow, then turned his attention back toward Galahad.

"Those thugs might come back, you know… with bigger and meaner friends. What do you plan on doing then, Master?"

The question seemed sincere rather than challenging. Braze genuinely wanted to understand what the man intended to do.

Generally speaking, older people tended to have accumulated at least some wisdom along with all those years, and Braze had recently begun making more of an effort to actually listen to what they said… even when it didn't immediately make sense.

 

[Gario Galahad]

"The Vanguard are simply... Jedi who have chosen a more independent path in the Force. There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone needs a bit of space to breathe." He leaned back against the bar, a subtle grin growing as young Braze showed a serious interest in his so-called mission. If the kid was this eager and serious, he could definitely play up his assignment a bit and perhaps turn this enthusiastic young Jedi into a temporary helper while he enjoyed his drink right here.

"Now, regarding my mission," Gario started, puffing out his chest with exaggerated seriousness, "it's a top-priority task. These dock merchants are in trouble, Braze. It's a serious situation that needs quick, discreet action. I need someone agile to check out the north warehouses while I manage the command center here." Before he could fully convince the kid to do the legwork, Gario grabbed another glass from the counter and took a slow, deep sip.

As the warmth settled in his chest, he paused, recalling Braze warning about those Rodians coming back. Gario's face went pale for a moment at the thought. Heavy blasters, grenades, repeating cannons... all that firepower tearing through this cozy, beautiful cantina, smashing bottles and spilling all this wonderful Corellian ale onto the dirt floor.

"No, no, no. Not the booze," Gario muttered quietly. He got off the bar stool a bit too fast as the ground seemed to sway beneath his boots, a clear sign of the alcohol in his system. He wobbled a bit, steadying himself on the bar's edge with a shy smile, his glass still held securely in his right hand.
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[Braze]

Tags: Gario Galahad

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"Huh... that's fair. Though I haven't met many Wayseekers," Braze offered softly. "Following the will of the Force always seemed like a rather... open-ended calling to me. I suppose that's the point, though, isn't it? It's not too dissimilar to what I've been up to as of late... I miss being able to go home to Coruscant though..." He said as a few hot tears stung at his eyes, gathering along the edges of pale lashes. Braze gritted his teeth and forced down a swallow, blinking rapidly in an effort to hide every trace of them from the older man.

Braze moved to stand just as quickly, seeming ready to catch the Old Master should he take a tumble on unsteady footing.

"Oh yeah?" He wasn't entirely certain whether he ought to try and do something about the old man's intoxication... or simply let him manage himself.

"What's in the dock warehouses? I presume a weapons cache?" he asked, uncertain what exactly the Master sought there that could be so pivotal to the task at hand. He could at least reason that splitting up would allow them to cover more ground.

"Perhaps I can be of assistance?" Braze offered gently. "Do you want my com-link so we can stay in touch?" Braze asked gently seemingly deferring his tone to a softer register when speaking with the elder. "If you need to be stabilized I can provide the assistance. " He offered remembering how jarring it was when he'd been pulled out of a drunken stupor himself by a peer.

He did like helping people, and he was still trying to uncover more information concerning his own mission. Perhaps whatever he was searching for might reveal itself in such a place... particularly if the warehouses had become somewhere shady individuals preferred to conduct their business.

 

[Gario Galahad]

Gario noticed the quick blink and how Braze clenched his teeth to hold back tears. He understood the look on their face, the pain of someone yearning for a place they cannot go back to. He decided to stay silent about it, knowing that bringing it up would only make them defensive. Instead, he softened his posture, allowing them to have their moment without disruption.

"Home is a strange thing, kid," Gario said gently, taking a small, careful sip from his glass. "It tends to stick with you no matter how far you travel in the galaxy." He let the silence linger between them for a moment before slapping his knee and bringing back his usual cheerful grin. "Regarding those dock warehouses, it's not just about weapons," Gario said, pointing toward the cantina doors with his glass.

"It's also black-market technology, stolen supplies, and whatever else those thugs are using to push local merchants out of business. If we disrupt their control over the supply line, we can help the families down at the docks." He saw Braze offer his com-link with that serious, by-the-book tone that young Jedi often had. Gario chuckled quietly, reaching into his tunic. He pulled out a worn, scratched com-link, tapped the screen to send his frequency code to Braze's unit, and tucked it back into his pocket.

"Frequency's sent," Gario said, giving the kid a casual nod. "Just do me a favor and avoid calling every five minutes unless something is actually blowing up. And don't worry about stabilizing me. The booze just helps keep the Force-sense loose." Gario turned and pushed through the heavy wooden doors, stepping out into the thick, humid air of the Myrra street. The humidity hit him immediately, cutting through some of the alcohol fog. He paused on the rain-slicked walkway, glancing up and down the muddy road before turning back to face Braze.
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[Braze]

Gario Galahad
Braze contemplated what the man had said, finding a little comfort in the sentiment. His thoughts wandered to Jasper Kai'el , Phy , and Marissa Shoda , and the place they had moved to. It certainly seemed as though they had made a home there, but Braze had never spent any time beneath its roof.

Did he even really have a home?

Sure, he had plenty of houses in which to sleep, be they as magnificent as the Tidewatch Aerie or the Haven suite aboard the Mud Duck, or as meager and utilitarian as the Skipray’s cot. Even foreign lodgings offered him shelter and a place to rest, but none of them… were really home. Even the little treehouse on Lothal and the temple on Dantooine felt strangely lonesome whenever he returned to them.

Nothing had felt as secure as Coruscant once had, nor as permanent. His friends and family had been scattered across the galaxy, and he felt as though there were precious little he could do to bring them back together.

His attention perked up as he focused upon the details the elder Jedi shared with him. Braze frowned, the problem becoming clearer with every added piece.

“Right. I think I can find where they’re keeping things,” Braze said, sounding quite confident in that sort of task. His newfound skills would make the search a little easier, he suspected.

He offered a quiet nod, acknowledging that the man did not wish to be pestered unless there was a genuine emergency. Braze figured he could handle this much himself.

“Just let me know if any of them come back and give you trouble,” he chirped, assuring the elder that he would return to provide backup should the thugs attempt to bother him while Braze was investigating.

 

[Gario Galahad]

"Thanks for the offer, kid," Gario said with a smile to Braze . "If those Rodians return with heavy blasters, my main strategy is to run as fast as I can. You just concentrate on the warehouses." He pointed down the street, where rain was beginning to obscure the street corners due to the extensive network of mud forming and mist from the jungle nearby.

"Just be careful down there," Gario added, his tone becoming more serious. "People who undercut the merchants like this aren't doing it out of kindness. Send me a message on the comms if you find the stash, but don't try to take on a whole building alone." Gario gave him a quick nod, turned, and walked off into the rain. He made his way toward the south docks, the scent of engine grease and old fish growing stronger as he approached the water.

The buildings in this area were dilapidated, mostly rusted loading docks and empty shipping crates. Gario slowed down, walking with a slight wobble to appear as if he was still recovering from the liquor. As he walked between two large cargo containers, he heard the unmistakable click of a blaster being cocked in the darkness ahead. Gario halted immediately and raised his hands near his chest in a form of mock surrender.
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[Braze]

Tags: Gario Galahad

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Braze offered him a faultless smile in return, followed by a lazy but playful salute to indicate he understood what the old man wanted to convey. He stepped outside, watching the man seemingly vanish into the mist before turning his attention northward. If Gario was going to check the south side, Braze would move toward the north. Combining their investigations made sense and would very likely lead them toward the same network Braze had come here to find.

The docks were dilapidated in places, the muggy scent of low tide clinging to the damp air with a pungent, briny aroma. The docks were dilapidated in places, the muggy scent of low tide clinging to the damp air with a pungent, briny aroma. It was oddly quiet, almost peaceful, as Braze listened to the gentle lap of waves against the shoreline. It was perhaps concerningly quiet. He pressed his Force sense outward, extending it to get a better sense of what lay ahead. With trepidation, he continued forward until he spotted the warehouses in the Northern District.

Braze had hoped the old man was doing alright... If he'd been here longer than Braze, the local thugs might have already painted a target on the fellow and decided he'd overstayed his welcome. Now that a smaller Jedi had seemingly appeared, however... that meant there were now two Jedi.

Certainly, things were getting out of hand for these smugglers.

He turned his attention to the towering duracrete walls of teh warehouse...Now how was he to get in? He spotted a window way up high and moved to try and press against a dumpster to try and quietly move it closer so he could perhaps climb upwards.

 

[Gario Galahad]

Gario squinted at the heavy blaster barrel aimed at him, those his eyes soon widened in surprise as a figure stepped out from behind a pair of shipping containers into the faint light of a nearby streetlamp. He could tell it was a Twi'lek known around the docks as Big Head. He had earned that name thanks to a pair of oversized lekku that made him pretty unattractive to most other Twi'leks.

He had once offered to act as his wingman to help him get a date, mostly because Gario wanted an excuse to meet some attractive Twi'leks but Big Head had turned him down again and again though he wasn't sure why. He let out an sigh stepping past the weapon and deeper into the narrow alleyway to get out of the rain coming down.

He leaned his shoulder against the wet duracrete, wringing a bit of rainwater from his sleeve. "Put the gun away, Big Head," Gario said. "You're going to shoot your own foot." Big Head grunted, shoving the heavy blaster into his belt. He reached into his coat, pulled out a mud-stained shipping manifest, and slapped it against Gario's chest. Gario caught the flimsiplast, tilting it toward the dim light of his com-link screen.

His eyes moved down the columns, stolen manifest numbers, crossed-out merchant tax stamps, and crate numbers all stamped with the same red emblem. "Building Four," Big Head muttered, nodding his large head toward a dark, rusted structure down by the water's edge.

He gestured over his shoulder, where two guards in heavy coats were pacing the perimeter, carrying repeating rifles. "They're rolling the last crate up the ramp now." Gario folded the manifest, shoved it into his tunic, and tossed a small credit pouch at the Twi'lek's chest.

"Buy yourself a drink," Gario said, giving him a quick wink. "On me." He didn't wait for a response. Gario turned and slipped out the back of the alley, keeping his boots quiet in the mud as he moved toward the shadow of Building Four. He tapped a button on his communicator to let Braze track his location.
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[Braze]

Tags: Gario Galahad

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Braze accepted the signal and relayed his own location in turn. He climbed up to the top window sill and gripped tightly, hanging from the ledge as he slipped one hand down to pull a hidden knife from his boot. He edged the blade along the bottom of the window, carefully working it beneath the frame before leveraging it open a few inches.

He slipped the knife back into its sheath, then reached up and worked his fingers beneath the narrow gap. Bracing himself against the wall, Braze pressed upward with his elbows, coaxing the old window open just far enough for him to pull himself up and squeeze through the narrow space.

Once Braze had made his way into the darkened warehouse, he was met with the sight of several crooked rows of cargo containers stacked beneath rusting support beams. Thin seams of muted daylight slipped through gaps in the corrugated walls, catching dust motes suspended in the stale air. The scent of brine was stronger inside, muddled with the scents of old oil, damp wood, and the distinct iron-y smell of rust.

Braze lowered himself as silently as he could from the window ledge dropping down with a faint cushioned fall. He slipped on a set of glasses and keyed the recording as he started to walk between the crates, fingertips brushing over shipping labels that had started to peel away, or had been purposefully replaced, or scored through until the original markings were nearly unreadable. Several containers sat with their lids open, their contents seemingly reduced to discarded packing material and empty restraints where equipment had already been removed.

He crouched beside one and shifted a layer of padding aside eyeing the scrape marks across the floor and their patterns...

Military-grade power cells were what met his eyes next in the depth of a crate.

Another held encrypted communications equipment bundled beneath sacks of mundane trade goods, while a third had been packed to the brim with sensor components and slicing hardware that certainly had no business being hidden beneath agricultural manifests.

Braze's attention narrowed with a frown as he sifted through the various goods, uncovering the clever ways some of the crates had been packed to conceal what lay inside. Someone had gone through an extraordinary amount of effort to make all of this look boring.

His gaze traveled toward the rear of the warehouse, where one smaller crate had been separated from the others. Unlike the rest, its markings had not been completely destroyed. Beneath a smear of black paint remained the faint impression of an older identification code. He snapped a few still frame images and sent them to Gario Galahad

He relayed a written message to his would be Jedi Partners coms.

They're hiding restricted tech in regular shipments and scrubbing the manifests. Power cells encrypted comms and slicing gear. Found an old ID code. Look familiar?

 

[Gario Galahad]

Gario hauled himself up the rusted fire escape ladder, his boots slipping slightly on the wet metal before he scrambled onto the flat roof overlooking Building Four. He stayed low, crouching near the parapet wall as rainwater dripped from his hair and ran down his neck. Looking down through the foggy sky, Gario watched the loading bay below.

The perimeter was crawling with guards, far more than Big Head had let on. Among them, two familiar Rodian figures shuffled past the floodlights, ducking inside the main sliding doors. One had his arm bandaged where Gario had chopped his blaster barrel in half earlier. Gario chuckled quietly to himself, wiping rainwater from his eyes.

His little cantina distraction hadn't been a waste after all, it had chased the thugs straight back to their nest. A buzz at his waist made him pull out his communicator. The screen lit up with a text message and a set of attached images from Braze that told him that they were hiding restricted technology in regular shipping as his eyes squinted at the old id code.

A few moments later he would send back a reply. Nice work, kid. Takes a special kind of sleaze to pack war gear under cabbages. Wrap it up over there and head to my ping at Building Four. This looks like their main headquarters, and they're loading up fast. In the industrial sector, deep within the dark, echoing warehouse where Braze was examining the crates, the stale air suddenly changed. A crackling hiss echoed off the high duracrete walls as twin purple electrostaffs flared to life on either side of the narrow aisle.

Two tall, slender MagnaGuards emerged from behind the stacked shipping containers, their red eye-sensors fixed directly on the intruder. Designed specifically for combat against Jedi, the droids moved with deadly speed. The staff heads crackled with high-voltage electricity, the hums rising to a whine as both MagnaGuards swiftly closed the gap, swinging their electrified weapons in coordinated strikes to kill Braze .
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