A Drink With Friend

[Hannibal Oryen]

BOTHAN SYSTEM, BOTHAWUI
DREV'STARN, FJORD'S BAR AND GRILL

@[member="Serock Hoath"]

"Another."
"I think you've had enough."
"I'm a cyborg. Robot liver. Give me another."

The bartender refilled Hannibal's glass, though he made no effort to hide his skepticism. That was fair. Hannibal had several cybernetic parts, but none of them were his liver. After participating in a Confederate incursion in the Chroma Zed system, he was hanging around their capital, whittling away his meager paycheck on the simpler things in life. Eventually they would call him back for another military strike against the Slaver's Guild, but that wasn't yet. Hannibal had also spent a decent amount of time looking out for potential sightings of that Jorus Merrill guy. Hard to do from the Bothan homeworld, but he had a few eyes and ears looking out at some backwater space stations. He suspected Merrill enjoyed those.

Hannibal's mask sat on the counter a short distance from the owner, the harsh red, trio of eyes glaring at anyone who happened to look at it. He liked his mask. It was almost his signature, considering he didn't have the expertise or the care to customize a blaster or something. No, BlasTech was good enough for him.

He sipped at his drink, redirecting his attention to the television blaring news at the bar's patrons.

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Serock was tired. Tired and thirsty. So naturally he had came here to drink his worries away. The assault had been bloody and dirty, but he had experienced worse in his time. Ah.. what a time it was. He had been younger then and filled with the hope he could change anything he wanted to. It was good he had grown up from that. No one can change this sick and perverted world.

Walking up to the bar he ordered himself a drink and sat down. While being immersed in the flow of memories that whirled inside of him.

@[member="Hannibal Oryen"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member="Serock Hoath"]

Hannibal broke off his gaze at the viewscreen when a surly, tired looking fellow took the seat next to him. He looked familiar. Familiar in the sense that he looked like he had also participated in his fair share of firefights and battles. Hannibal debated saying something to the man. He hadn't expected to run into another freelancer (or at least someone who looked like one) in a bar. Especially in a city as big as Drev'starn. Perhaps he'd also been on Chroma Zed. Oh well. Bars were supposed to be social outlets.

"You look worse for wear, bud." Hannibal commented. "Fight the good fight on Chroma Zed?"

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Serock did not like to be approached by total strangers when he was just trying to get a drink. He was just about to say something about the rude intrusion, when his gaze settled on the man next to him.
He was silent for a second. Serock had almost forgotten how someone looked like when being a real fighter. This man clearly was and deserved at least his courtesy, if not some small measure of respect.

Serock then nodded to the man.

"Well you are one ugly son of a queen yourself, friend."

He then attempted a smile, that looked more like a grimace of pain, to soften his words.

"And more like fighting for the good pay."

Throwing down his drink, he ordered another one.

"And one for the man next to me. Be quick about it."

It was not every day he met someone who had seen the field of battle and lived to tell the tale about it. It was customary in Serock's culture to share tales of battle when you meet a shield-brother. Making this clear to the soldier next to him, he settled in for a night of story telling and drinking. Serock had to surpress a smile, this was going to be a fun day after all.

@[member="Hannibal Oryen"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member="Serock Hoath"]

"Well, what more canna man ask for, if not a decent paycheck?" Hannibal said, nodding in appreciation as the bartender served Hannibal yet another drink. The cyborg slammed down the rest of the one he had just gotten before continuing, now knowing that another free beer was waiting for him regardless. "So, where were you, then? They had me flying shuttles into coreships. Notta pleasant experience, I'll tell you that."

 

[Hira Mitsae]

"So, where were you, then? They had me flying shuttles into coreships. Notta pleasant experience, I'll tell you that."​

​

The Coreship.. Serock had heard of the mission and he was still pissed off that he could not have been there. He had history with the Hutt species and it was a personal pleasure when he could off one of those bastards. But when a General of the CIS army tells you to follow him, you do as told. A warrior knows his position in the hierarchy. And sadly, Serock was a long way down in the chain of command. He still remembered the days he spent leading armies to battle, proud days when his honor was still intact. But those days were long since over.

So he just sighed, took a taste of the poison and then answered the man's question.

"I was busy holding off bastards on the surface, with General Nocturno. Thrilling stuff, I yell ya. And the pay was decent enough." Pausing, Serock ordered another drink and then continued. "So, I heard there was a Hutt leading that Coreship. Did ya guys have the chance to chop that bastard to pieces?"

@[member="Hannibal Oryen"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member="Serock Hoath"]

Hannibal coughed, preventing his breakfast from coming back up at the mention of chopping one of those fat slugs into pieces. Hannibal had dealt with Hutts before. That in itself had never been a nice experience, he didn't even want to think about getting to know their insides on a personal level. Granted, he'd seen some pretty grotesque displays of mutilated humanoids in his day, mostly while hunting down Bando Gora back in his early days, but he'd seen the stuff some of those Hutts ate. Not pretty.

"Yeah, there was. Slaver-y kinda Hutt, you know how it is. Never gotta chance to meet 'im, unfortunately." Hannibal reluctantly admitted. "No one gave me a map 'a the damn coreship. Got lost, kept runnin' into mooks. Finally got there, he'd already off'd himself."

Hannibal gave a grim chuckle. "Guess he thought we were there to capture 'im."

 

[Hira Mitsae]

Serock laughed at that, a dead hutt was a good hutt in his book. Even if he had not been able to do the killing himself, in some ways it was even more amusing to hear that the fat turd offed himself. He suppressed a burp and then asked his drinking partner: "Have some stories to share? It's a custom for my people to tell war tales when two warriors meet. Of course, we would have to continue until one of us surpasses the other one."

@[member="Hannibal Oryen"]

 

[Hannibal Oryen]

@[member="Serock Hoath"]

"A story, huh?" Hannibal got all shifty eyed, looking from one part of the bar to the other. "I thinks I can oblige ya."

Hannibal did enjoy getting theatrical every now and again. Aside from punching people in the face and cashing in on bounties, it was probably one of his favorite things. Hell, if Hannibal could be theatrical and punch someone in the face while simultaneously cashing in on a bounty, all bets were off: he was having a good day. Unfortunately, he had yet to be in such a situation. He would just have to settle for being theatrical right now.

"Ya ever 'ear the story 'a Jingo Three-Cannons?"

 

[Hira Mitsae]

[member="Hannibal Oryen"]

The grouchy Caveman blinked once and then made it twice, it was almost as if he had returned from some deep stasis of which few ever returned. He looked around, and found strange faces and people he could barely remember. The drink in his hand was foreign, the glass feeling slightly off to the touch. Where was he? What had happened and most important where was the damn wodka?

While he had woken from his eternal slumber, Hannibal said something. Blue eyes watched the man say something. The words reached his ears, but it took time to register ‘em. Jingo Three-Cannons?

This had to be something good.

If Jingo wasn’t some kind of badass with bad luck concern nicknames, then Hoath would be severly disappointed. Still, he didn’t say anything just yet. He didn’t want to jinx the moment of clarity, his eyes became almost as shifty as those of Hannibal.

Staring at his drink, he decided finally to take a large gulp from it, only to spit it right out. What the hell was this crap? In that moment of awkwardness, the Mandalorian Caveman totally missed that he had spittin his drink right in the face of the barman. Who.. was already grabbing for the shotgun behind the counter.

Serock didn’t notice that though, too tired from his hallucinatory experience. It was probably something in that drink, some kind of drug.

“Three-cannons? That must be something good, let’s get on with it then.”