Private Credits Over Creed

[Zachariah Black]

Location: Nar Shadaa ~ Lower District | Time: 02:00 | Tags: Taru Cadera
​

There was a distinct stench that filled the slums of Nar Shadaa. It was the kind of stale scent that could be caught when walking along the back of a scummy cantina or brothel. It never wavered and seemed to only grow more repulsive the longer it lingered it lingered in the air. This stench was the type of thing that made Zachariah Black feel right at home on Nar Shadaa. The streets were as busy as usual, filled with all manner of scum who wanted to keep their business close to the breast. People down here were perfect. They never cared about anything and no one asked any questions, at least not without a handful of credits to jog their memories. A man could be beaten to death and his assailant would never hear a cross word about it.

So what brought a man like Zachariah Black to Nar Shadaa? He had a nasty little bounty on his head after escaping from prison in Sith space, but out here their reach was basically non-existent. They could send all the hunters they wanted but without the endorsement of the Hutt's it would mean nothing. After all, hunters and recovery agents who didn't pay the Hutt's their share didn't seem to last long on the crime world.

Zachariah lit the end of his cigarra, taking a deep drag from the cylinder before exhaling a small cloud of smoke into the air. He was an average man when it came to height and build. No taller or shorter than your standard man, standing just under six feet. His hair was raven black with some streaks of silver dashed here and there, but they were few and far between. The only telling feature about the man were his eyes. Hell itself could not conjure a fire as vibrant as the crimson orbs that rested in this man's head. They were piercing, like a beast that was holding back the instinct to pounce on everything that surrounded him. He rolled his hand on the inside of the black trench coat he wore, toying with the grip of his blaster pistol.

"Let's see....Kawalla's dead, and Rimo, and Kiwok, and even Yaloura. Fuckin' idiots." He muttered, his lips curling into an agitated smirk. Seemed just about everyone in his old gang was dead and gone. Not unexpected, most of the people in his old group were volatile idiots who reveled in violence. Not really too much different from Zachariah, the only difference being he would do anything to keep his neck.

"Supposed to be a good number of mercs on this rock. Guess that's as good a place as any to start." He sighed, pulling the cigarra from his hands and idly scratching his cheek. He looked up, wondering just what kind of mercs Nar Shadaa had these days. Guess he'd find out soon enough.

 

[Taru Cadera]

About twenty stories above the lower district, Taru was in a heated fight, midair. He was interlocked between two speeders, and was challenging himself to take out the riders without damaging the speeders, hence why he did not just blow them out of the sky with a rocket.

The Ash'amur did its job however, blasting its way through windshields and continuing through a twi'leks lower face, drilling through both the mouth and neck, effectively decapitating the enforcer and angering the others. Sending a couple shots closer in the direction of the passenger, his HUD piped up about the low amount of fuel, its urgent red-yellow flash in the bottom left stating maybe two minutes of flight left. Then a couple of accurate shots picked off his jetpack, causing him to drop out of the air. "Feirfek!" he yelled into his helmet, luckily not allowing the HUD to distribute the sound out of his annunciator, so all the enforcers got was the silent visage of a lone Mandalorian falling.

These types of attacks weren't uncommon here, especially not when focused on Taru. The Hutts could not openly do anything against Taru, he was too well connected and the reprisals would be to ghastly for most Hutts to stomach thinking about. Instead they sent off smaller gangs and enforcers to trap him, test him, and for them hopefully to take him out of existence.

One problem with that idea though...

Taru wore Mandalorian Armor of superior make to any durasteel or plasteel that these chakaar wore, and although this fall would hurt, he knew that he was of appropriate muscle mass and constitution to walk off the fall. And there was always the hope of falling on someone and having them cushion your fall, the fatter the better.

His plummet stopped as he went head first through a repulser-craft, his horns sharpened and armored to make the impact cut through the engine of the craft, sending it sideways and into the side of a building from the push given by his velocity. With his jetpack coming back online, he gave the screaming pilot a mock salute and stepped backwards off of the wreck and plummeted down towards the street level, only using the jet pack to ease his fall and smooth the landing.

“Imp, show me directions to nearest cantina, I’m parched...”

Zachariah Black​

 

[Zachariah Black]

There was a distinct sound that a jetpack made when it was slammed into by a blaster bolt. Now normally Zachariah wasn't the type to pay attention to something as common as a skirmish in the upper levels. However, when his eyes rose he could see the trail of smoke that followed the flailing Mandalorian. "Oh, that's gonna..." The moment the man slammed into the repulsor-craft Zachariah snorted while the man in Mandalorian armor righted himself. After watching the Mandalorian complete a fall that had not begun in grace Zachariah stepped forward.

He'd just barely heard the armored man mention a cantina and when the Mandalorian moved to pass Zachariah the older man held a hand up. "Nearest cantina is the Spiced Moon, down the block on the left." He said, before glancing back up at the direction the street gang had disappeared down. "Seems you've made some friends, not a bad landing though."

Setting the cigarra he was holding back in his lips, Zachariah arched a brow at the man. "Mandalorian, huh? Seein' more and more of your kind back in these parts lately. Nice shiny armor an' all." Zachariah smirked for a moment before gesturing his head towards the cantina down the street. "I can always use a chat with a good killer. First rounds on me." He offered.

Taru Cadera

 

[Taru Cadera]

Instead of hearing Imp's electronic voice giving him directions, Taru was surprised to hear a man instead give him directions. A half second after the man started talking Imp supplied the necessary directions to the Spiced Moon, The Orange Scarf, and two other cantinas whose names were not written in Basic, Huttese or Mando'a.

Sometimes the denizens were nice, other times they turned out to be annoying beggars trying to loot Taru of his armor and weapons. And Taru still had not discerned this Man's purpose in talking to him.

When the man commented on his armor, Taru was itching to come up with some banter but instead he said nothing, swallowing his pride and allowing the insult of being shiny go by without repercussions for the one who said it. Any thought of explaining to the man through force what his insult meant vanished after hearing that the man would buy him a drink, which immediately caused Taru to perk up both as a precaution and for the relaxing idea of a drink, especially when he wasn't paying.

"Sure. But I would like to know your name first"

Zachariah Black​

 

[Zachariah Black]

The bandit exhaled another thick fog of cigarra smoke. It filled the space between the two of them with a dark cloud, but when the cloud drifted away Zachariah was smiling.

"Zachariah." He told the Mandalorian.

The man turned down the street and led the way to the cantina. The streets were as busy as you would expect the late night of Nar Shadaa would provide. The cantina was one of the more quiet ones on this side of the planet. To prove that, two men came barreling out of the main entrance, slamming into the ground as they swapped blows to each other's chins. Zachariah glanced down at the display with a smirk before walking over the two men.

"So where you learn to fly like that? You one of the Mandos that fought for their clan thing?" He asked the man, leading the way to the bar. "Or just some random merc?"

When they made their way to the bar, Zach waved his hand back at the crimson warrior. "Actually, don't even bother answerin' that."

"Two glasses of whiskey, neat and something strong for the Mando." He said, jerking a thumb towards Taru.

"So whats the rate for your guns?" Zachariah asked.

Taru Cadera

 

[Taru Cadera]

The cigarra smoking man clearly did not educate himself on Mandalorian culture, but that didn't matter to Taru, as the only people who should learn Mando culture were Mandalorians themselves or sadly their enemies.

Taru had overlooked the two men in their drugged out and drunken brawl. Nar Shadaa was renowned enough for that as it was. But what he did not overlook were the man's, Zachariah's, eyes. They looked almost magical, force related or something, but if he stared too long at them to figure out what they were he would probably have to fight the man or become embarrassed at such a stupid thing.

Making their way into the bar, he ignored the mans statement not to reply and gave him a reply.

"I'm a Cadera."

As the drinks came, Zachariah with his double whiskey and Taru with a glass of Mandallian Narcolethe, Taru wished that he had ordered instead of the man, as ne'tra gal was way better than Mandallian Narcolethe, but it was too late. And a drink was still a drink.

"My gun huh", he replied after a good sip, "What you need with the rate of fire of it? If I tell you that it can blow a hole the size of your head in most things will that answer your question? And what about you, how are things looking for your toys..."

Zachariah Black​