Private Badawan Reunion: The Hangover

[Haro Aven]

LOCATION: OUTER RIM TERRITORIES > HUTT SPACE > NAR SHADDAA​

STARSHIP: SCORN CLASS INTERCEPTOR​

OBJECTIVE: GATHER THE BADAWAN BOYS FOR A NIGHT THEY WON'T REMEMBER​

TAGS: Naamino Zuukamano | Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer ​

The Smuggler's Moon was animated with revelry as a shiny new corvette carrying four enterprising young men descended upon the massive cityscape. Though visibility was limited by the ever-present haze of atmospheric pollutants, dozens of pockets of thrumming neon lights could be seen from the high vantage, bright and flashy enough to stand out against the city lights, marking the epicenters of the various parties. They passed towering skyscrapers cluttered with holo-adverts competing for attention, though most of them promoted a planet-wide star rave music festival.

After their brief reunion on Desevro, Haro had proposed a little getaway to his fellow Badawans—a chance to get the gang back together again for some proper mischief. They deserved some time off to let loose and celebrate their accomplishments, Haro had insisted, and the scuttlebutt around the Outer Rim was there was some big event happening on Nar Shaddaa that he thought would be worth checking out. He'd hoped the trip might inspire the "old Lysander" to show himself since his friend seemed to be lost in his own melancholy these days.

"Now, that's what I'm talkin about!" Haro exclaimed as he piloted them closer to the Besadii Resort & Casino—one of the finer establishments on Nar Shaddaa, no doubt named after some Hutt with way too many credits and an obsession with gambling.

The multi-tiered building had a slight curve to it and featured a cylindrical tower in the middle, guiding guests like a lighthouse for the wealthy and the reckless. Holo-banners shimmered overhead, projecting the resort's crest while subtly shifting colors to match the ambient skyline. A grand courtyard opened before the main casino entrance, beyond which was the true signature attraction of the luxury resort—a massive crystalline pool glowing softly with imported luminescent algae, shifting colors in subtle waves of teal, amethyst and gold. In its center, fountains performed a choreographed show, pressurized jets launching synchronized streams dozens of meter into the air.

Once the corvette was parked safely in a nearby shipyard, they caught an air-taxi to the Besadii and found their way to the front desk to secure a room. It took some convincing, but Haro was able to talk Naami into putting the credit chip Elmindra Xitaar had entrusted to her apprentice on file for the suite, promising that they would either pay for it with their winnings or all pitch in to cover it. Either way, they would figure it out the next day and the Zabrak had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Haro lit up as the doors to their suite slid open and they were greeted by a sweeping panoramic view of the ecumenopolis through floor-to-ceiling transperasteel windows. From this height, the chaos of Nar Shaddaa was a mesmerizing tapestry of shifting neon, sky-lanes, and distant landing platforms. The centerpiece of the suite was the sunken conversation pit—a sweeping oval recessed into the floor as though carved from the heart of a luxury star yacht, surrounded by cushioned modular sofas that subtly reconfigure themselves to guest preference, with a low table at its center that doubled as a holoscreen, game table, dining platform, or entertainment display. To one side, a bar alcove displayed dozens of rare spirits—some legal, others decidedly not—with a dedicated mixologist droid patiently awaiting instructions.

"Yoooo can you fething believe this?!" Haro asked no one in particular as they all filed into the suite, shadowboxing at Varin before he bounded over to grab Lysander by the shoulders and jostle him playfully. He was quick to find his way to the bar for a more thorough investigation of the various bottles of liquor, plucking the one from the shelf he thought looked the coolest. Then spun smoothly around on the bar stool to face the others, his grin mischievous.

"Once we're all dolled up, we should take this up to the roof for a toast."

Though the suite was definitely one of the fanciest places Haro had ever stayed, he was eager to get on his party on with the guys. So he abandoned the bottle of booze on the counter for the time being, called dibs on one of the two bedrooms for himself and Naami, and started getting into his fit for their night out.
​

 

[Naamino Zuukamano]

OUTER RIM TERRITORIES
HUTT SPACE
NAR SHADDAA
Objective: Party with old friends
Tags: Haro Aven | Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer​

Long overdue for some kind of break from regular duty, Naamino was less resistant to the idea of cutting loose than his friends might have thought. Though he was still his usual orderly and uptight self leading into wild evening itself. He'd insisted that he alone could pilot the fancy new corvette they'd gotten ahold of, but soon made the exception for Haro to co-pilot which turned into the wiry mechanic handling it all himself anyway.

Similarly, the zabrak was prickly at the thought of putting down Elmindra fething Xitaar's credit chip on hold with registration when they reached the lobby of their swanky digs, but Haro seemed to know just want to say to talk him into it. The presence and excitement of Varin and Lysander helped seal the deal.

Arrival to their room assuaged any lingering doubts and Naami gave a rare, ear to ear dimpled smile. With a bark of laughter, nodding as he took in the sights.

"Well chit… it's pretty fething astral if you ask me. Hey Lys, you're like royalty 'round here yeah? Think you could get us into any VIP spots?"

The big zabrak marveled at the view a little longer until ushered to get ready. He cuffed Haro companionably with a playful ruffle of his hair and an arm about the shoulders.

"Right fellas, no use lounging. We've got a town to paint red."

 

[Varin Mortifer]

The seats were clean, smooth, sleek. They even heated themselves! It was absolutely mind boggling to Varin as he repeatedly shifted his seat's settings. Holding buttons making the seat go side to side, up and down, reclined or inclined. He had never seen this part of Nar Shaddaa at night. He could instantly see the appeal. Lights, music, fancy cruisers. A city of promise, but still all the more cutthroat.

After Varin was finished messing with his seat leaving it in the most awkward position his eyes were glued to the windows as he marveled at the massive casino they were staying in. The fountain's colors changed as fluidly as it flowed before bursting upwards in jets.

“How the hell did you guys manage this?”

He exclaimed as he shifted over seats to look at the various buildings, accidentally clamoring a bit over some of the badawan crew. The corvette slowly descended to the casino where Varin wasted no time getting out eyes wide as he marveled at the architecture of the building before them. He looked back at the gang with a big smile on his face, he hadn’t been this excited since the Tuk’ata Fears concert.

The excitement only built up more as they entered the building. The hype almost possessing the crew as they convinced Naami to use the credit chip.

“C’mon man, theres plenty of credits out there, besides I may or may not have looked into some of these games. We can easily build the credits back up. Perhaps I can even pay my master back for taking her credits for gambling on the race.”

The last part he probably could have left out, but it was not even an afterthought as the credit chip was swiped and they all headed up to their room.

The doors opened up to reveal the suite. The conversation pit instantly caught Varin’s eye as he walked up to it. Haro's excitement was accompanied by Naami's and Varin's. Haro walked by Varin doing a small bit of shadowboxing to which Varin responded with a good bit of laughter.

“Woaaaah! GUYS A MINI FIGHT PIT!”

He raised his voice from even more excitement as his eyes landed on the bartender bot and the bar around him.

“Booze!?”

Varin stepped over the couch pit making his way to the bar looking over the bottles, his eye fell onto the bottle that Haro was holding.”

“I can hold on to that while we all get ready.”

Varin walked to his room that had a glorious view from a balcony to the city. The wind whipping from updrafts blew his hair back as he looked over the city.

No masters, a bunch of teenagers in a casino resort and alcohol. What could go wrong?

Ignati spoke in a sarcastic tone.

“Oh lighten up a bit. A couple nights won’t kill us.”

He spoke as he put on his fancier outfit with his usual house colors. Maroons and blacks. A black vest accented with maroon inlays hugged his torso as a black button up shirt and maroon tie settled beneath it. Black pants accompanied by his black boots and to go over it all was a black long jacket doubling as a cloak.

“What could go wrong?”

Lysander von Ascania | Naamino Zuukamano | Haro Aven​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Haro Aven | Varin Mortifer | Naamino Zuukamano
​

No matter how many times he visited, Smuggler’s Moon always hit Lysander the same. He could see that smog and neon from just behind the cockpit. He didn’t mind staying in the Outer Rim either.. this planet was one of those that never pretended to be anything other than what it was. It didn’t care who you were, only that you knew how to keep up. He wondered whether his absences on the weekends from the Academy were starting to register. Whether someone might eventually comment on how often he wasn’t there. The notion didn’t tighten his chest the way it might have once though. Concern implied attachment, right? Those were.. manageable. Usually..

Haro’s voice cut through the cockpit with the kind of excitement Lysander remembered far too well. Old rhythms resurfaced, especially with Naamino and Varin present too. It felt.. good. Surprisingly so. If anything positive outside came from the trauma on Korriban, it would’ve been the bonds forged there that didn’t drift with time.

The Besadii Resort & Casino rose into view. Luxury.. engineered to dazzle. Once inside, he noticed how Haro was unbothered by the fact that the place probably cost more per night than most people made in a year. Lysander followed the sound in.. the had that magnetic pull. From up here, the chaos almost looked.. intentional.

Haro’s hands clamped onto his shoulders with affectionate force. His balance adjusted automatically. For a split second, it pulled something unguarded out of him, a breath through his nose.. a laugh.

He glanced sideways at Varin, eyes flicking at how Haro bounced away toward the bar like a loth-cat spotting something shiny.

“I can,” Lysander said calmly, “But I probably shouldn’t.”

The bar was stocked with spirits ranging from respectable to questionably legal. “This place feels like it’s daring us to make poor decisions. Which means we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

In the refresher, he studied his reflection, drying his hands, expression neutral. Dressing for Nar Shaddaa always felt absurd. The planet thrived on provocation. But when he reached for his clothes, the choices were all too predictable. Black, as ever. The tunic was tailored. Dark trousers followed, boots polished. He fastened everything. Finally, he regarded himself once more in the mirror. It was strange.. dressing this carefully for a place built on indulgence. But appearances were still a language, and Lysander had learned long ago how to speak fluently in that one as well.

Once back outside. Lysander turned his head toward the Zabrak, one brow. “Royalty might be a tad generous. But yeah.. I know a few doors that don’t ask too many questions.” His gaze drifted back toward the city beyond the glass for a moment. “There’s a place not far from here.. the Red Ronin. Just finished construction too. Clean lines, half-decent security, and enough distance from the main drag that you won’t get crushed by a thousand bodies every ten minutes. Music’s tolerable too. which already puts it above most of Smuggler’s Moon.”

A nonchalant shrug of the shoulders followed. “Not a bad opening move. Could always bounce somewhere else if we’re not feeling it.”

The teen's gaze traced Varin once, maybe twice, taking in that disciplined palette of maroon and black. There was something disarming about seeing that much brute strength wrapped in elegance. The Twi'leks out there didn't stand a chance tonight. "Well," a note of dry amusement, "clean up nicely, don't you, Varin?"

In his hand was a slender roll of paper, packed tight and clean, the scent faint but unmistakable. Brosi’s finest skunk.. meticulously cultivated.. Lysander hadn’t smoked in months.. not since Canto Bight. One more time couldn't hurt. It rolled once between his fingers, before glancing over to Haro. Some things were immutable laws of the galaxy! A hand extended forward. “Figured I’d let you do the honors, Captain,” a grin curved his lips, "wouldn't feel right any other way.”