Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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"HOW IN THE NAME OF CHAOS ARE YOU EVEN ALIVE? NO ONE CAN DRINK THAT MUCH!"

Downing another shot of Corellian scotch in a single gulp, Mak's eyes were bloodshot as he looked up into the Trandoshan's face, his beard sagging as he kept eyes with the man.

"You owe me 200 credits now... You just keep losing every time we make a bet..."

Feeling the alcohol battling the inside of his stomach, Mak breathed hard for a few seconds, trying to stop himself from vomiting everywhere before it eventually passed. A frown appeared on Mak's face as he held his lower left hand and felt the credits land in it, the Trandoshan growling before walking away. Placing them in his robe, Mak didn't even bother looking at the bartender, shouting at the top of his voice.

"GET ME ANOTHER BOTTLE OF SCOTCH! I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE BOTTOM OF THIS GLASS AGAIN!"

Looking around at the other patrons, Mak slammed his cane against the ground.

"Come on! Anyone else in here think they can outdrink me?!"
 
Sighing tiredly, Mak pulled out his pipe and snapped his fingers, producing a small flame that sat in the palm of his hand as he lit up it up. As a steady stream of smoke escape his nose and mouth, Mak chuckled.

"Listen, I don't need anyone to tell me when to stop drinking... I WAS PROBABLY DRINKING BEFORE YOU'RE GRANDMOTHER'S GRANDMOTHER WAS EVEN-"

Turning around to see who was lecturing him, Mak's eyes fell on the diminutive woman and for a second, his eyes were narrowed before they opened up wide. Falling back in his seat, Mak rubbed his eyes with two fingers, wondering if the alcohol was playing a trick on them, but as she came back into focus, Mak felt his jaw drop.

"Katatine... RYIAH?"
 
Mak just sat there, staring at her at what felt like an extremely long time. As the bartender came up and dropped off another bottle of scotch, he felt his breathing quicken as the alcohol began to battle inside of him again.

"How are you... I thought... I was sure I was alone... I didn't think anyone I knew would be in this time... I've been here for close to a year..."

Opening the bottle of scotch, Mak didn't even waste the time of pouring it in the shot glass but drank it straight from the bottle, downing a good amount.
 
"FRAK THAT! We're getting a damn booth..."

Grabbing the bottle, Mak stood up, his tail allowing him to reach an impressive 7'6. Looking around the cantina, Mak spotted one that was empty, but the surrounding booths were full of drinkers talking to one another. As they sat down, Mak looked at the nearby patrons sitting near them and he rose his voice again.

"WE WANT SOME PRIVACY!"

As they flinched and got up, moving to other booths or to the bar itself, Mak poured Kat a shot of scotch as she took a seat.

"You first... How did you get here...?"
 
Mak placed his upper right hand under his chin as he listened to her story. The third lower left hand ran through his beard occasionally while the lower right hand would bring the pipe up to his mouth for a quick smoke. His upper left hand poured a smaller amount of scotch into his waiting mouth as she finished. Mak's eyes narrowed for a second as he thought on her story.

"How and why were you frozen in carbonite?"
 
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"Yeah... I'm a dimensional exile rogue Jedi Master..."

Mak took a deep inhale on the pipe, letting out a cloud of smoke to the ceiling as he closed his eyes and thought on why he was in bars and cantinas nonstop.

"I've been in this... timeframe for about a year now. You know who I am, what I'm really like; it didn't take too much to really get the Jedi Council to want me be gone, especially after the whole Dathomir debacle. I figured I only had one good option left in my life, and that was a honorable death..."

Drinking slowly, Mak's eyes opened and drifted to Kat.

"I decided to attack Malic head on. You remember him?"
 
"Of course it didn't work out... I'm an arrogant bastard. We were both trying to kill each other and he used Force Storm to create a hyperspace wormhole to destroy the moon we were fighting on and I used dimension shift to stop it, thinking that it would be powerful enough. It created... a spatial vortex that caught the both of us and so here I am, hundreds of years later in the future..."

Raising the bottle in a mock celebration, Mak downed the rest of the bottle.

"And what does that mean to me, Kat?" It didn't even dawn on him that he used the old nickname he used to call her when she was a padawan, when times had been far more simpler.

"I don't know any of these Jedi. I don't know pretty much anyone. The only person I speak to is this kid who gets me information from around the Galaxy, so I can keep tabs on where Malic is."

"You're the true Jedi Master now, Kat. Not me."
 
Mak picked up the empty bottle, staring at the Corellian label. Drinking was easy; all you had to do was put your lips to the glass and all of your problems disappeared.

So many Jedi that he had known that were now gone. Hundreds of years later, and the same problems were still going on, with the Jedi and the Sith, with the Empire and the Rebels, with the bounty hunters and the pirates, with the Witches and the Mandalorians...

"That easy, huh?"
 
Mak stared at her for a few seconds before he felt something on his face that he hadn't experienced in years: a genuine smile.

"Kat, you've been drinking water this entire time, so I know you're not drunk. I'm a 205 year old snake. Who do you think I'm going to be having children with?"
 
Mak simply stared at her for a minute, his beard rising and falling as he thought about old memories, about his actions in the past, about friends and enemies long gone.

"Alright..."

Taking a deep inhale, Mak allowed for the smoke to come through his nose.

"I'm not saying that I won't come back with you, but I'm not joining up officially for the time being. You can consider me a rogue Jedi who's affiliated with whatever Jedi Order you're part of."
 
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