A Pint of Ale, a Pint of Blood

[Armand Temi]

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Location: Dru'a Nayr Cantina, Enceri​

Many Keldabeians considered Enceri a soggy, backwater village with few attractions except a large and bustling trading post in the middle of the town. But Rena had called Enceri home for as long as she could remember.

It was early afternoon in the Dru’a Nayr cantina (in Basic “The Drowned Rat"), and on this unusually sunny day, it appeared that the entire city of Enceri decided to stop whatever work they were doing on farms and in the market and head to the nearest watering hole. When it rained for ten to twelve hours at a time on a regular basis, no one took a bone-dry day for granted.

Rena sat with a few locals, large tin mug of tihaar in hand, fingers wrapped tight around the handle as though she were afraid it would be snatched from her. The Namadi clan member was still clad in her beskar'gam with her helmet off. The lone braid in her long brown hair had been tight and tidy in the morning, but by now had devolved into a messy rope of hair which hung over one shoulder. A shot of red dwarf was thrust into her other hand, which she downed without hesitation. No sooner than she’d smacked her lips, the alcohol now warming her belly, a familiar song rang out in the cantina, to which Rena sang along:

"Buy'ce gal, buy'ce tal​

Vebor'ad ures aliit!​

Mhi draar baat'i meg'parjii'se​

Kote lo'shebs'ul narit!"​

What else was there to do on a beautiful Enceri afternoon than drink and chat and maybe even fight?

[member="Marev Priest"]

 

[Riggs]

He sat in a corner booth, the bottle nearly empty at his elbow. He wasn't a local, which gained him plenty of looks. The right side of his face had a spiderweb of scars that garnered him attention as well. But it was the look in his eyes that kept everyone at a distance. Pure, unadulterated, hatred glowed like stoked embers within a forge. A hatred that kept him warm on the cold, lonely nights. A hatred that consumed every waking thought. A hatred that have him a reason to live.

Gripping the bottle he drained the last dregs of liquor before rising from his seat. He wasn't a large man, but the way he carried himself as he walked across the bar was resembled a large predator on the hunt. And he was on a hunt. A hunt for more liquor. Jostling between two locals the man on his right grunted, looked at Marev, then moved down the bar. The woman on his left was drinking a shot of something red.

"I'll have a bottle of whatever that is."

Taking the bottle he tossed several creds across the bar before moving back to his table to glower at everyone while drinking the bottle of liquor.

[member="Rena Namadi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Rena wiped her mouth with the back of a tanned knuckle. She spied a foreigner in their midst, but a Child of Mandalore by the looks of him, his hard-bitten face as battle-scarred as any of the adults in the bar and maybe even some of the kids. Speaking of kids, a toddler ran past with a pint of ale in his hands.

“Someone should get Randunk’s rug rat out of here. He’s not even out of diapers yet,” she said, laughing and a few other chuckles went around as the lad was picked up like a shockball and placed in his grizzled father’s lap.

The Enceri native peered again at newcomer as he asked to sample what she had. “It’s called red dwarf. Kind of weak if you ask me.” But he didn’t. He only scowled and brought his mug back to his own table. Her next bark was aimed at the bartender: “Gar ogir! Keep the tihaar flowing to that table, okay?”

She approached the man with the blonde brush cut, slamming the tihaar bottle down on the table, then her empty mug beside it. “Euk b'amr. I haven’t seen you around before. But in Encari hospitality means challenging you to a drinking contest."

She gave him a wide, taunting smile.

“You game?”

[member="Marev Priest"]

 

[Riggs]

He looked up from his bottle at the woman as she approached. Predatory eyes watched her form, calculated precision as she moved. She had power in the feline beauty. His eyes narrowed. He wondered idly how many men understated her because of her sex failing to realize the females of the mando'ade were the more ferocious and brutal.

He kicked a chair out inclining his head as he watched the bartender retrieve a bottle of tihaar to bring to the table.

"A drinking contest? So the Enceri are used to losing then, eh?"

A cold smile crossed his lips, not making his face any softer in the expression. Draining his mug he slammed it down empty into the table top and leaned back to glower as the bartender dropped off the bottle and left. Taking the new bottle he poured some into his mug and slid it across the table to the woman.

"Sure, I'll take the challenge. You might even win since all you traders have to do around here is drink and lay on your back. And not necessarily in that order."

The cold smile never left his face as he raised his mug in a mocking toast.

[member="Rena Namadi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Bravado filled her like the Tihaar coursing through her veins, and she fell in line with his own taunting movements, not sure whether to laugh at the remark or hit him right before they’d ingested any liquor at all.

She opted for breaking the new bottle of Mandalorian spirits right open on the table and tossing it aside. The bartender scuttled over with a fresh bottle grumbling about Rena’s already astronomical IOU.

“Enceri natives never lose. I thought a Baskar B'amr like you would know that. But it all makes sense now - you’re a pretty boy. Probably from the capital. Too posh to lift a finger and or hammer an nail once and awhile.” By the shape of his body, it was clear that he had a powerful physique, but Rena would not give him the pleasure of knowing she thought he was recklessly attractive. Her roaming brown eyes were the only thing that gave her away.

She stepped up closer and her handsome tanned face was in slapping range. But was he man enough to hit her? And then she gave him the most coquettish, flirtatious smile and said:

“The next time I’m on my back, I’ll be drunk and passed out on your grave.”

Instead of using her mug, she took a long pull directly from the third bottle of Tihaar that night.

[member="Marev Priest"]

 

[Riggs]

His eyes narrowed as he listened to her words while seeing the brown eyes roam his body. Setting his mug aside he slowly rose to stand at his full height, towering over the woman. It wasn't a display of dominance but rather a sizing up, showing her to see that he was larger, he was fit, and he was very angry. The secret was he always was angry. Snatching the bottle from her hand after she took a pull he raised it to his own lips taking a large draught.

The after taste of the earthy spice that didn't come from the liquor piqued his interest at the taste of the mando'ad woman. But his eyes flashed as he lowered the bottle.

"Oh, I know the reputation of the Enceri. Just as I know of the beskar load found outside of the city. You natives love getting loads. And I'm not talking beskar ore."

He slammed the bottle down to the table top and stepped forward, breastplate to breastplate. Hooking his thumbs into his gunbelt he smirked down at her, flawless face with a flowing mane of brown hair. A real beauty, one that surely was sought after. Lips were full and eyes smokey. Aye, she was a looker. He lowered the volume of his voice where to catch his words she would have to strain, even rocking forward slightly to hear.

"I'm already dead. And you, you will be on your back, again, a lot sooner then that. Kuur mesh'la, I want a kiss."

A Keldabe kiss to be exact. With his sly smirk unwavering he slammed his head forward savagely to ram his forehead at the articulate nose of the woman before him.

[member="Rena Namadi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

She adored watching the newcomer become a little worked up. He’s doing a good job at hiding it, I’ll give him that. But Rena could tell - the fist clenching, the deep furrow in his brow, his barely contained sneer - all of those telltale signs? She was getting to him.

Still there was brave, and there was foolhardy, and she’d drank so much Tihaar that the line between those had certainly blurred.

The Enceri native was still cackling away when the man’s chest thumped against her breastplate, but she then grew quiet thinking for a moment that maybe… like most men, he was about to press his drunken lips against hers, and she’d taste the sweet residue of fermented ale in his mouth, and sure enough he wanted a kiss, a request that had her rolling her eyes, not paying attention until…

Crack!

Gasps and even laughter filled the cantina. Yet no one stepped up to help her. Rena had started the fight, and as every Mandalorian knew, she would be the one to end it, even if it meant her own body being dragged out of the Drowned Rat.

Shooting pain blinded her for a moment, and she stumbled backwards but did not lose her footing. Covering her nose for a moment, bright red blood trickled through her fingers, and as she brought it away, she just gazed at her palm, the gloves stained with crimson. The nose felt loose on her face, but also thick, the swelling starting to form.

"Haar'chak! I should have stuck to ne'tra gal," she murmured aloud. Tihaar always made her lose a bit of her dexterity.

Forgetting about her broken nose - more liquor would help with that pain - immediately Rena went for the bottle, grabbed it around the neck and swung it at Marev’s face, hoping it would smash all over those handsome creases and wipe the smug smirk off his face.

[member="Marev Priest"]

 

[Riggs]

He laughed, a throaty sound that revealed real mirth. As she staggered back he knew he should feel remorse or even a modicum of shame, but that had been burned out of him along with empathy, sympathy, and emotional attachment. Watching your family die had that kind of affect upon a person.

Turning away as she staggered back he couldn't help but enjoy the sounds of hilarity that spread through the bar. It wasn't a visit to the local pub unless you got to see at least one confrontation. Picking up the mug he took a swig, enjoying the fiery blaze as the liquor burned it's way to his stomach. Nodding he turned back to the woman, a smug look of satisfaction on his scarred face as he heard her words.

"Ret haar mand'ika slanar geroya to ashi copikla." (Maybe the little Mando go play with other cute babies.)

He turned his head to let out a sneering chuckle only to turn his face right into the downward arc of the swinging bottle. A dull thud followed by shattering glass accompanied him as he staggered back. Shaking his head he sent a shower of tihaar and bottle fragments cascading to the floor. Raising his hand he plucked a shard from near his hairline releasing a stream of warm crimson down across his features.

"Jare'la dala." (Stupid [asking for it] woman)

Her act had the desired effect on Marev. He was no longer smiling. First she ruined his solitary musings. Then the inferior mando'ad had challenged her better. And lastly, and perhaps the most heinous crime, she wasted a perfectly good bottle of tihaar. She had to pay. He lashed out with his right synth skin cybernetic leg in a kick that should connect with her chest and send her flying across the bar ... if it wasn't for his already drunken stupor and the ringing in his ears from the blow of the precious tihaar bottle.

[member="Rena Namadi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

As the tempers between them flared, pain now fueling their desire to see the other beaten, Rena was too close to jump away and the strong kick from her opponent sent her flying, blood from her nose splattering the wall behind her.

She stumbled as she rose, hand on her face, trying to figure out if he’d broken the septum or the shapely arch of the bone, side-eyeing him to give herself more time. A Mandalorian named Kurol took pity upon her momentarily and slapped a bandage on the nose, but then pushed her back out to the middle of the cantina where Marev was. “K'atini!,” he shouted to her.

“Narir gar beskar'gam bat catade (put your armor on, gorgeous). I need to stretch my legs, and if we shoot up this bar, I’ll owe more than I make in a year.”

Rena enjoyed her occasionally quiet life in Encenari, working for the Namadi clan’s trade markets and sometimes on the farm. Truth be told, she didn’t want to become a bounty hunter, though if the civil war mushroomed into a full scale galactic war, income might be a problem.

Either way, Kurol tossed her the helmet piece to her armor and dark brown eyes not leaving him, she prepared for him either attacking her still in the cantina or acquiescing to go outside.

[member="Marev Priest"]

 

[Riggs]

The kicked actually connected, not that Marev would ever doubt his ability, and sent the woman across the room. A sneer crossed his face as he roughly grabbed the mug and drained the last of the tihaar from it before slamming it upon the table which rocked slightly under the impact. Watching as she grabbed her buy'ce he collected his own, not taking his eyes off her.

"Then let's go, ner ad'ika."

His lips formed a bloody grin as he moved toward the doors of the establishment, his boots crunching lightly upon the shattered glass adorning the floor. While he moved slowly, not trusting enough to take his eyes of her, he found himself acknowledging that her shape was pleasing. The lips under broken nose were full and inviting. But it was the fire in her eyes that attracted him.

This one is a true mando'ad he mused to himself. Too bad I'm going to break her.

He chuckled to himself as he eased out the door backwards and into the street before slipping his own buy'ce over blood stained face. Moving away he gave her plenty of room to exit the bar. This was her opportunity to run out the back door, but he didn't expect her to and, not that he would say it, would be disappointed if she did.

[member="Rena Namadi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Rena had a soft side and could be subtle and yielding. She did not like cruelty to children or animals and would give the last credit in her pocket to an innocent who was hurt or hungry. But this evening, Marev would see none of that. Not until she was far too gone either with drink or injuries to say “I give up.”

She no longer did this, but before a fight she used to look up at the sky and say a prayer for Naranx, her ji'dimr gemas. That was ten years ago, his death still fresh in her widowed mind. She lay with too many men between now and then. Rena only thought of Naranx when she was alone in her bed during the witching hour and sometimes a good cry like that would lull her back to sleep.

She slipped on her helmet, strapped on fully loaded vambraces, and as Kurol poured another shot of tihaar down her throat, he helped her attach her jet pack. Nothing was seen as an advantage unless they were supposed to be fighting in street clothes. Like most Mandalorians, Rena’s armor was her second skin and that included all of the deadly add-ons.

Slapping her helm as she stalked outside, she immediately fired her whipcord thrower towards Marev, aiming for the legs to lasso him and bring him down as he was backing up.

"Liser va parer akay, 'kay va Ni liser pabida norac at pirur (can't wait to get back to drinking)," she grumbled.

[member="Marev Priest"]

 

[Riggs]

The bright, midday sun flashed down upon the town causing his visit to filter the light from blinding to a clarity afforded through the wonder of technology. As he moved backwards slowly into the street he watched Rena move from the cantina and into the street. A small flicker of his lips revealed his pleasure at the woman's tenacity at following the conflict.

Maybe I misjudged her ...

Then the Whipcord lashed out, entangling his legs and causing him to land backwards onto the hard ground. At her words an actual smile crossed his unseen face. Game on. She wanted a fight and he was more then willing to acquiesce to her request.

"Oya!"

Igniting the thrusters of his jetpack straight to full power his body jarred as he careened across the open ground. The little bit of slack in the line went taut and Marev veered right intending to yank the woman from her feet, accelerate her while tethered, then whip her body into the building he had just swerved away from.

[member="Rena Namadi"]

 

[Armand Temi]

Kurol came out of the cantina after Rena. If that gra'ave dala was in the right mindset, she can get downright suicidal over something trivial like a drinking contest, he thought. He gave Marev a knowing nod of camaraderie right before Rena lassoed him.

Behind her helm, she snickered as he landed on his back. While her whipcord thrower had a disengage switch, her opponent’s jetpacks fired, and he was off his feet before she could reach it, assuming she’d just reel him in like a gulley fish.

Arms windmilling, her armored feet left the air, and as she saw herself careening towards the exterior of the cantina, she activated her own jetpack and though she hit the building, she was able to lessen the blow to a scrape and sideways scrambled across with her legs to wheel back around.

Rena straightened herself to upright and decided to keep Marev tethered for a moment. With both of them in the air, gravity either a friend or a foe, this was about to get interesting.

"Gar cuyir va atba'a'yu gurire! ner riditr ibac buscuryr (you aren't getting off my leash that easily)," she taunted.

[member="Marev Priest"]