Private A River Beneath The Moon

[Alora Vizsla]

Ordinarily, Alora didn't wear her helmet everywhere or all the time like many other Mandalorians. Gambit griped about it, but she liked feeling the wind on her face and blowing through her hair. Plus, people underestimated her all the time when they saw this 'cute little thing' before them with all the smiles and honeyed eyes. Yeah, she totally played up the angles. Why not? If they were dumb enough to get taken in by her looks, or thought to start something giving her an excuse to end it...

But Nar Shaddaa? Alora wore her helmet. Not that it had the traditional T-visor, of course. Nothing about Alora was traditional. It'd started as a rebellious youth before Mandalore fell long ago, but now it was simply who and what she was. Literally, in some respect. Not that most people knew it. Not that Alora went out of her way to tell anyone. People got squirrelly when you told them. Which was kind of funny considering how many cybernetic prosthetics some people had these days.

Dressed in her Mandalorian armor and sporting twin disruptor pistols at her hips, people gave the silver woman her space. That was a nice thing about the armor -- and the helmet -- was people were worried because they couldn't tell if you were happy or enraged without seeing your face. With her load out it was definitely safer to mind your own business. On a moon like this that was quite the time saver. Even if she had to pull a disruptor once in a blue moon when a clueless or drug-fiend thought to lurch in her direction.

Maybe she could find a job in one of the nearby clubs. Lots of Crime Lords on Nar Shaddaa needed work done for them. Getting something in or out of a place. Paid well. Kept Gambit ready to go.

Yuri Maji​

 

[Yuri Maji]

The trip to Nar Shaddaa had turned out to be a lot more lucrative than Yuri expected. He only spent a few days with the Fleet before business called him back to the smuggler's moon. Everyone needed weapons, and it just so happened that there was no shortage of customers looking for something newer than a crate of worn-out surplus blasters dating back to the civil war.

And thus the Hound was seated across one such customer, a bulbous twi'lek looking to step up his gang's lethality in the Outer Rim. His armour was covered nicely by a long coat and his helmet sat neatly tucked against his side. He held a composed, cool grin as the negotiations kicked off. The story was always the same, bulk discount with half upfront. The only difference was that, in this particular instance, the customer was far too eager.

"Look, man. Twenty-five is way too big for the amount you're lookin' at getting." Yuri argued, leaning back to light a smoke. The tailhead sat forward, a small vein pressed against his forehead. "Don't kid yourself, schutta, you're not selling a Nubian yacht. If you don't like it-"

"-You'll take your business elsewhere?" Yuri cut him off with a demeaning laugh. "You ain't got the upper hand here, Garloc, and nobody else is willin' to deal with a glorified group of thugs. The Hutts weren't so uptight." Smoke rolled from his nostrils as a daring grin took hold. The satisfaction of watching the tailhead squirm was a difficult one to beat, they needed the Hound's guns. But an odd scent stole Yuri's attention.

A familiar scent.

The business became secondary as he looked around the club, trying to figure out where the scent was coming from. Garloc was complaining further but Yuri paid him no mind. Not until the priming of a blaster echoed from the other side of the table. Eyes closed, Yuri had to suppress a snarl as he turned to face the twi'lek again. "That's brave." He remarked, smoke billowing between them from a stiff breath.

Alora Vizsla