Boom Boom Bang

[Malik Rodarch]

Ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Toms and Mollies! I present to you this floating hunk of barely bolted together panels of rust. Don't be fooled by the shabby exterior, my friend! For within that unassuming shell of wear and tear was a world of wonder! Some of the most brilliant rogue minds of the galaxy pawning their wares for the prettiest of profit. If you were here, you were in the know, had connections. Enough of all this nattering however, and welcome, to the tech-head's paradise.

Nausi Station, Anonymous Space

“Hey, hey hey! Watch where yer puttin' those clompers! HEY!”

It's not easy standing a piece under three feet tall. Reason? Self-explanatory. You ever get caught in a crowd of giants? Well, maybe caught wasn't quite the right word. More like squashed, or trampled. Have a tail? Oh, you don't? Well then I'll tell you here and now that having your tail trodden on by said giants is far from pleasant.

“GWAH!”

A yelp emerged from the crowd that gathered at one of the many vendors that the station provided.

“I've been stabbed!”

Slow down there with the dramatics, Diana! The yowling patron of course had not been stabbed, but merely scratched by the claws of one rather small and one rather annoyed Cantrosian. Do you like the flu? Too bad. Enjoy that Cantrosian-scratch fever, mate. With his vengeance enacted Brill scrambled off to find other wares to tickle his fancy.

CRANTOR'S CHEMICALS

He very much doubted that his name was Crantor, but alliteration sells, y'know? Not to mention that the combination of incapacitating gases and unpredictable home-made explosives was a thing of beauty. Marvelous. The very thought of it caused a Cheshire grin to spread to the cat's face.

Time to browse these wares...

[member="Anders Sivas"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

Time to go back to the Old Ways, and by Old Ways I don't mean some ancient sect from six thousand years ago that someone just happens to have gotten the last secret holocron at auction for a few credits and their mum's favourite shirt. I mean the ways I survived as a twelve year old out in the Galaxy at large with nothing but a Lifter, a bag lunch and my flimsy wits. Incognito, and in the breeze. I hit Nausi Station with a coded ident of the unfamiliar and unknown, and walk its corridors with an illusion of Anders the Masculine, Anders the young frail dude that many would plain forget.

The crowd's abundant and average, few minds spark out to my natural empathy but one is annoyed and running circles around the others in being miffed out. I hear the scream, the shriek of being stabbed and I run for the person. "Medic! Let me through! Medic!" The waters part, I reach the person and see them sitting down on the edge of a table pale faced and incapable of looking down. "Where'd you g--seriously?" I wave my hand and the injury fades from the person's leg. They stare at me for a few seconds as the wonder turns into a more infamous sort of knowing.

"You didn't scratch yourself." "I didn't scratch myself."

"You never saw me." "I don't know who you are."

"You are going shopping for essentials." "I'm shopping for essentials, you know. So… move?" The person walks off with a sniffle.

After my third time running into [member="Mikhail Shorn"], I've learned not to take it so easy on mouldable minds. Even my own. There's a beauty in discipline, wh-which someone up ahead is ignoring completely. I let my mind wander and find nothing, pushing off the table of a peddler of old starship parts made into decorative clocks I continue my search for creative new ways to save the Fringe Military from personal and collateral damage.

Crantor's Chemicals shows in large neon letters, and I slip inside to see a masterful array of beverages to make a cheap man blind and a rich man more powerful. I - "Woa! Sorry there, dude." I stop short and circle around an ew-that's not an ewok! A . . . creature wearing a cap? The girl in me wants to squeak and cuddle this marauding knee scratcher, but I look on down and wave. "I think I'm beginning to see why Master Yoda always had that floater thing, eh dude? Happy shop---oooh I want that."

I glance at the vial from four feet away and instantly know it's the coup of this place - mayhap this station. "Oohohoh, s'cuse me I gotta go buy somethi--oooohohohoooh" The vial is more impressive closer up, larger and heavier than expected. This is going to be brilliant.

@Brill

 

[Malik Rodarch]

[OOC: Sorry for being neglectful! Was on half a vacation!]

The perils of being very small.

Legs. More specifically knees. The small creature felt the soft dunt as crowding legs pushed him about without mercy. Perhaps Brill should have invested in a very low powered bantha prod. That would have got people out of the way. No consideration for the small, ya know? You'd think the popularity of that art of the small tosh would get people thinking about the wee man. No such luck.

The Cantrosian grunted (or rather squeaked) in response, at least this one had acknowledged that he indeed existed.


This one however, had his eye caught by something that Brill was just entirely too short to see. “What? What do you want?” he inquired, trying to contain his slight excitement as he hopped on the spot to try and catch a glimpse of the source of 'ooh shiny'.

No such luck.

“Kark it.”

Brill leapt. Brill leapt at the entranced fellow, trying to scale his back so he could see what had enraptured him so. Not the best social skills in the galaxy, but some of the items upon Nauti Station are often unique one-of-a-kinds. Difficult to replicate. Impossible to find again.

“What'cha lookin' at, bub?!” the kitty-kat squawked as he attempted to climb the man's back.

[member="Anders Sivas"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

"Woa! Boy Okey!" I yelp as the fuzzy midget hops and crawls up my back. Seems a hard stretch to be so small in a larger galaxy, I laugh as his claws tickle my back (thank the goddesses for a leather jacket, eh?) and I steady my hands on my thighs to give [member="Brill"] an easier time of the climb. "Comfy? Anders Sivas, Stilts for Hire. Nice t'meet you, too."

Hey, I'm a healer and part of that is helping where it's needed. "That. Isn't it beautiful?" The vial glittered in the artificial light, its' contents nigh luminescing from the composite chemicals which fostered the reactions inside. I've never seen a vial that big of this stuff, how many hours did it take for a group of scientists to craft it is beyond me. "One vial of that could remake my entire . . dude. How did they get that here!? Hey! Excuse me, how much is this?"

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Not too many people in this galaxy give the little man a boost, simply content to trample and ignore, Brill didn't blame them. Everybody had their own business, their own hopes, dreams, fears. Point was, everybody had their own baggage, so it was hard to remember the little guy beneath your feet.

So he would appreciate the guy giving him a shoulder, more than he let on. “Cheers, bud! Name's Brill,” he chirped, steadying himself on that shoulder, “An' Brill stands for Brilliant.”

Brill's eyes twinkled with awe as he finally caught glimpse of the mystery vial. “Yo, ya could put that on display in museum or somehin'.” Ears twitched slightly as the excitable man's fuse seemed to be excited by the wares that Crantor had on display. Remake your entire what? The Cantrosian pondered.

“Eight hundred credits if you throw in your pet cat.”

Eight hundred, that's a reasonable price for...hey showaddywaddy, that is not entirely ethical! We cannot confirm or deny if Nausi Station approves of disapproves of animal testing. Brill, instead of using his people words actively hissed at the man who could only have been known as Crantor.

[member="Anders Sivas"]

 

[Yasha Cadera]

"Brill the Brilliant, eh? Pleased to lend a shoulder." I reach my hand over to shake Brill's, a smirk on my face and a laugh in my voice. "Anders doesn't stand for anything much, just a name from a book."

The vial, oh the vial! It's almost as brilliant as the cat-man on my shoulder and I reach to pluck it off the shelf, inspect it in different light. "A couple of drops could completely remake research and development of … Not my pet, Brill's my friend dude. Show some respect. See? You upset him, better apologize Mr. Crantor." I throw the words out without really thinking about having said them. Fast shifts rock and all.

"I'm doing a side project for some people, we're trying to develop a thinner, heartier combat armour. . . but gosh that'd look darn pretty in the Scientific Emporum Museum on Annaj." The chemical reagent mixture glistened more in my hand. I glance over at the hissing erupting by my ear and put a hand on [member="Brill"]'s shoulder. "How about 1,200 credits and a smile?"

 

[Malik Rodarch]

Brill blinked, noting that Anders' mouth moved a mile a minute. Not that it bothered him, given that the Cantrosian often found himself talking too fast for the comprehension of others, well, at least when he was giving a trademarked sales pitch.

His human pedestal spoke up for him, causing the merchant/scientist to rub his bald spot awkwardly. Can create the elixr of the Force but can't cure a case of good old fashioned hair loss. The magic of science. Hey, just shows that there are more important things in the universe than cosmetics. Embrace your bald spot, Crantor.

“Ahem. My apologies, Sir...Sirs.”

Cantrosian, buddy. Look it up. Obviously not a biology major, huh?

“Armour, huh? I like it. Lotta people come here, mind all about the weaponry,” the cat chattered, he himself was including but he preferred to create an explosive centered around incapacitation rather than death and destruction, although that wasn't to say that Brill didn't craft a more deadly delight now and again. War is an easy business. Too easy. “I like you, pal, yer a good guy.”

“1,600,” Crantor responded stiffly with a slight sniff, and Brill pondered in that moment if the price had been bumped up due to pet/friend misunderstandings. From his own pocket the Cantrosian rummaged, searching between lint and forgotten pieces of overly-sour and stale candy. “Ah-ha!”

Pulling out a 200 credit chit the sentient cat dropped the currency into his Ander's pocket. His whiskers flickered slightly, no doubt tickling the cheek of his new buddy. Of course, this donation didn't make up the 400 that would be needed, but you don't come to a market and not haggle.

[member="Anders Sivas"]