Private A Shanty With a Pirate On a Neon-lit Night

[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

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PROLOGUE: A Shanty With a Pirate On a Neon-lit Night
LOCATION: THE PIRATE’S MOON
TAG: Yuri Maji | Vara Rasha​

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND
THEME​

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“...so I wake up, blinking hard as my head feels like it’s split open. I roll over to my side and get my feet under me. I rub my eyes, but they’re bleary as hell. Then behind me, I hear this voice - sweet and kind as ye like: ‘Last night was fun, we should do it again.’ So what do I do? I grin through the pain, with bits and pieces of memory coming back slowly. I turn, and there lying in the damned sheet is a KARKIN Ugnaught.” Kjartan’s hands gestured wildly as he told the story to his two companions; the trio walking away from some old, shambling, borrowed freighter they flew into this place, but that now lay moored within a hangar docking array behind them. They walked along a platform which led to dozens of other docking arrays branching out from it to the left; a public docking bay commonplace in older stations within the Outer Rim.

Before them some 100 meters and to the right lay a branching section of the platform which led to the entrance checkpoint; the gateway to the bowels of a station that could only be described as ‘past her prime’. Rust ate away at the wall panels all around them, coupled with filth and grime along the floor and a diverse collection of sentients from all over the galaxy. Nikto, Weequay, Rodian, Theelin, Human - and near countless others were already represented by those around the trio. Other pilots, crewmen and women, dockworkers, and ‘security personnel’ (when they weren’t drinking their weight in rum) milled about the platform, all of whom engaged in their own personal conversations be it business or otherwise. Kjartan for his part, blended in well with the general populace of the Pirate’s Haven - a hideout for all manner of ne’er-do-wells in this sector of the Rim; scoundrels from all walks of life and with all manner of skillsets. What was one other Mandalorian pirate amongst other equally such unique denizens?

With Kjartan’s coaching, Yuri and Vara would blend in as well. Together, all three of them looked to be part of some misfit band of spacers walking toward the station checkpoint, on-route to enjoy what questionable comforts the station provided. He wore his usual attire - armor, with a cloak and patchwork clothes reminiscent of his older, more 'fast and loose' days. Although his story did much to sell the disguise, it was also a very real characteristic of the man. He loved a good, filthy story. “...I jump up out of bed, manhood swinging around and all as I try to find my clothes - but then slip and land on my ass before falling flat on my back in some grease or sommat. Needless to say, I can’t stand the sight of those slight creatures.” The old pirate began laughing his usual throaty, wheezy laugh that was as contagious as whatever communicable disease he probably held when this story happened. He nudged Yuri on the shoulder with a playful shove, and continued leading the way to the checkpoint.

Sure they were here on business, but by Manda - Kjartan was going to enjoy himself.


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[Yuri Maji]

When the Hammer-hand invited the two mutts for a trip into the Outer Rim, Yuri was incredibly skeptical about his plans. All manner of ill concerns floated in his mind until a familiar station replaced the blue swirls of hyperspace. It was familiar to the Hound, he had visited the old pirate's cove on more than one occasion for one reason or another.

Luckily it wouldn't be an issue, for once in his life he kept his nose clean with those visits.

Naturally Kjartan had to lead them in with one of his outlandish tales... though Yuri couldn't help but find himself immersed in this one. A laugh barked from his maw as the broad man got to the punchline of his story, one hand tugging at Vara's shoulder with enthusiasm. "You don't wanna know half the stuff I got up to when I sent it." He remarked, regaining his composure and fixed his coat. No armour on this one, not a full suit at least. Body glove and cuirass was swapped out for a good shirt, jeans and a jacket to hide his shoulder holsters. Only his vambraces were brought along, more for utility than defensive measures.

Especially for what they were doing.

The journey helped to fix the terrible first impressions they all made when they met, and the Hammer-hand was quickly becoming more palatable for Yuri they longer they were together. But they were still there for business... at least, that was the impression. There were far better drinking holes if the plan was to get plastered.

Golden eyes scanned the area around them. There was nothing to immediately fear, but it paid to know their surroundings. "A karkin' Ugnaught, of all things..." Yuri snickered, shaking his head at the story. He had to give it to Kjartan, the story was certainly original even if Yuri thought it nonsense.

Vara Rasha Kjartan Hammer-Hand

 

[Vara Rasha]

THE FOUNDLING
Outer Rim | The Pirate's Moon
TAG: Yuri Maji Kjartan Hammer-Hand

Where's Your Head At​

The Pirate’s Moon.

A sight that sores eyes.

Vara’s footfalls melted into the rhythm of the other two men as they took to the public docking, leaving their rust bucket behind. Walking right beside her man, her eyes took the rusting panels and the disemboweled, vine-like wires of the station. Her attention jumped from silhouette to silhouette, subconsciously taking the measure of the colorful characters all around them, caught in their unique, everyday struggles.

It reminded her a lot of Junkfort.

Except the smell. Junkfort was worse, somehow.

“...I jump up out of bed, manhood swinging around and all as I try to find my clothes - but then slip and land on my ass before falling flat on my back in some grease or sommat. Needless to say, I can’t stand the sight of those slight creatures.”

Kjartan’s boisterous voice held a portion of the Foundling’s attention. The Harpy’s laughter came warm and easy. His story-telling was a feast for the ears. “Y’must’a had one hell of a bender if y’got it on with a karkin' Ugnaught at the end of it,” Her locs gently swayed as she shook her head, her eyes narrowed to a glint in her cackle.

“Borderline desperate,” Vara couldn’t help herself but add a sly remark, her tone purposefully little more than a fleeting whisper, just loud enough for the three of them. Her lips peeled back to a crooked smile in the same breath as she threw a jab at the mountain of a man. Her knuckles harmlessly glanced off his shoulder.

The bar fight and any grievance any one of them may have once held seemed like a distant memory by now.

They were on a mission now, and moved together as one.

Vara opted for a far more incognito choice of attire similar to Yuri. Her cuirass wrapped her chest and back underneath her trusty ol’ black leather jacket. A vambrace gripped her left forearm over the sleeve, as twin holsters hugged either thigh over a pair of stained, dark blue jeans. The dying fluorescent lights shone off the sheathed gunmetal in a dull glint.

And for the first time in a long time, the Harpy well and truly felt naked. She could feel its absence, the weight of her armor. Her brows knit as her glance shifted onto herself. She could see it with her own eyes. The changes. Where the weight of armor once restrained her, she found herself overcompensating in her gestures and movement.

She was faster. Stronger. Sharper.

Nice.

"You don't wanna know half the stuff I got up to when I sent it." He remarked, regaining his composure and fixed his coat.

Yuri’s warmth over her shoulders anchored her. Eyes settled upon his handsome mug as she smiled. “That makes the two of us,” a chuckle rolled from her throat, as distant memories of hookups and nightouts briefly flashed before her eyes, along with the faces of men and women, dime a dozen.

They weren’t the only ones with regrets after a drug and alcohol fueled binge.

Suddenly she became aware of her mouth at the thought. A flick of the tongue, she licked her parched lips. A small breath left her in the same moment. A cold one right about now would be rejuvenating.

They moved to the station proper before long, the public dockings behind them. Stalls of merchants lined the wide, scum-strewn halls. Her eyes were quick to catch a sign, hanging by a thread from the wall. Scum and soot of the decades clung heavily on it, but its symbology was unmistaken; a broken compass next to a tankard, ale heartily foaming from its rim.

Vara threw a nod of her head at it with a smirk. ”C’mon,” the Harpy walked past the two, her haste fueled by the promise of ale. She glanced at them over her shoulder as she took the charge towards the door. ”First rounds on me!”

She told no lie, but she prayed battle found them before they’d have to pay the tab.

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[Signy Bralor]

SIGNY BRALOR
OUTER RIM | THE PIRATE'S MOON
TAG: Kjartan Hammer-Hand Yuri Maji Vara Rasha
VISIBLY PRESENTING: Deliberately ambiguous

Signy was supposed to be on board the ship, she hadnt been invited to the Pirate's Moon, but she hadn't been categorically told not to leave the ship, so what she did during her rest time was her business. She was wearing simple brown leathers and a hood to keep her privacy. She was wearing her short hair tight up inside the hood so as not to look too young or too female to draw attention from the uncouth clientele here.

Tracking her father down wasnt hard, word got around on these places, so she had found her way to the bar where he now walked along chatting to two aliens. She slipped into a table a before they noticed and listened in for a bit as they crossed the room nursing the small synthbeer she had acquired at the bar on her way in. "Urgh!" she whispered to herself. "Did not need that image." She should probably head over before he said anything worse. Was there anything worse.

One of the aliens moved off to the bar so she thought she might as well head over. She approached where they now stood.

"You could have the pick of any woman at any port and here you are telling that Ugnaught story again Kjartan!" she said, adressing him flatly. If she believed hard enough that she was meant to be there, he might be convinced too. She looked at Yuri "This guy causing you trouble?" she couldnt expose a hint of doubt to get away with this boldness. Her heart was racing though, she glanced across to Vara with a nod, hoping there might be an extra drink on the way.
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[Kjartan Hammer-Hand]

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PROLOGUE: A Shanty With a Pirate On a Neon-lit Night
LOCATION: THE PIRATE’S MOON
TAG: Yuri Maji | Vara Rasha | Signy Bralor​

KJARTAN HAMMER-HAND
THEME​

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"A karkin' Ugnaught, of all things..." Yuri snickered, shaking his head at the story. He had to give it to Kjartan, the story was certainly original even if Yuri thought it nonsense.

“Y’must’a had one hell of a bender if y’got it on with a karkin' Ugnaught at the end of it,” Her locs gently swayed as she shook her head, her eyes narrowed to a glint in her cackle.

“When you’ve been alive as long as I have, there’s one rule you live by.” Kjartan gave the pair a mock-serious look, as if imparting hard won wisdom to two wayward youths. “Any port in a storm.” He gave them both a wink as they continued on. But then he heard another comment under Vara’s breath.

“Borderline desperate,” Vara couldn’t help herself but add a sly remark, her tone purposefully little more than a fleeting whisper, just loud enough for the three of them

“Oh you don’t know the half of it.” His tone grew conspiratorial and laced with meaning that all three knew the story behind. Few could understand the culture of the Mando’ade, where they could beat the tar out of each other one moment, only to forge a bond of comradery to follow. One would not have known that these three had been recently involved in a bar-room brawl that made any others of the sort appear tame in comparison, with the familiarity and fast friendship they all held.

The truth of the matter was, any of the three would die for the other should a non-Mandalorian be brave and skilled enough to try.

The trio made their way through the security checkpoint, which was little more than a glance and a nod by a band of thugs, and proceeded on to the cantina just beyond.

Vara threw a nod of her head at it with a smirk. ”C’mon,” the Harpy walked past the two, her haste fueled by the promise of ale. She glanced at them over her shoulder as she took the charge towards the door. ”First rounds on me!”

Despite himself, Kjartan gave a toothy grin at Vara. “I’d be tempted to see who can hold their liquor better betwixt the three o’ us. O’course, that’d be what got me into trouble in the first place with that Ugnaught.” He gave a visible shudder at the recurrence of his erstwhile dalliance. As they approached the bar, the old pirate heard a very familiar voice.

"You could have the pick of any woman at any port and here you are telling that Ugnaught story again Kjartan!" she said, adressing him flatly. If she believed hard enough that she was meant to be there, he might be convinced too. She looked at Yuri "This guy causing you trouble?" she couldnt expose a hint of doubt to get away with this boldness. Her heart was racing though, she glanced across to Vara with a nod, hoping there might be an extra drink on the way.

Kjartan turned and locked eyes with his daughter, the two holding the stare between them for what felt like several minutes. Eventually, Kjartan broke the silence and mounting tension. “I thought I told you to stay on the ship.” His tone was forged as if from iron, the stern demeanor of a captain washing over the jolly state that was on full display moments prior.

But then, a hint of a smile caused the crease of his lip to curve upward. With a slow, overly exaggerated closing of his eyes - as if giving into sheer exhaustion, he turned to Yuri and nudged his shoulder. “You tell a whelp to sit, and what does she do? Come after you into a place like this.” He shook his head and took a few steps toward his daughter, giving her a playful nudge of his knuckle against her cheek in a rare gesture of playful endearment; rare perhaps to Yuri and Vara, but not so rare to Signy.

He hid it well to most, but the truth of the matter was - the old Hammer had a bit of rust on his grip when it came to his daughter; or in a more plain way to say it, she had him wrapped around her finger in many ways. That much was obvious as his grin turned into a warm, broad smile as he gripped her shoulder and shook her. “I suppose I can’t expect you to stay behind every time I tell you to. I know your father, and you’re too much like him.” He gave her a wink. "O’course, you’re going to make it up to him by cleaning his chambers when we get back. It's a mopping day too.”

Kjartan would never admit it, but he knew she probably suspected that he saved particularly disgusting chores for her to serve as punishment for moments like these. It was almost as if he prided himself in the affair; for it often served as a thousandfold punishment compared to any other, be it a tanning of the backside or otherwise. Those ordeals rarely resonated with her in her childhood anyway. But cleaning his beard hair out of the drain?

That did it.

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